@Ghostwriter

Seal of Magic IV From all the books I'd read, and then from common knowledge, that rumbling could not be good. Then there was a definite earthquake. I whipped out my stolen acacia wood wand while the rest of the elders gasped. "Where did you get that?" Azael asked. "It fell off the back of a carriage," I said, winking at Panthera as she put on her armor. "We are going to have to confront and EXORCISE Cerberus now, or we might as well die trying. There can't be any sacrifices this time around." It was pretty clear to them that this was the case. There was no way around this fated confrontation. We were going to have to handle the mistakes made over a century ago and keep the villagers safe. Or we were going o die trying. Rushing out, the dog was not as big or mighty as had been described. "It's not that big of a monster you said it was, Azael!" I remarked. "Starvation..." he said, before laughing slowly. "...it's to our advantage. That's the effect of not consuming anything for more than a hundred years. It has reduced in size drastically, and we can manage it. Hopefully, that is..." We dashed towards the scene the 12-feet-tall fog was creating in the center of the city, scattering homes and stomping on people. A quick assessment of the scene showed that at least two had died, and three were injured severely. "Petrification!" Azael shouted as a mage seal appeared in front of him. Chains sprouted from it and wound themselves around the beast, under its legs, and across all its limbs. The chain became taut, and the beast was left shaking violently but unable to take steps. "Panthera! Leo! It is still very strong, so this can't last much longer." I leaped into the air. "Scorch!" Instantly five fireballs materialized where I whipped my wand and shot towards the beast. They were meant to be searingly hot, but none managed to even tint its fur darker. "How the hell did that not-" "CRIMSON DARTS!" I turned just in time to see Panthera fire four arrows from her bow. They whizzed through the air, glowing red like mini meteors as they hit different locations on the beast. There was no effect, but then she reloaded and fired again and again until the beasts howled a terrifying, pain-filled howl and broke through the restraints. "Not that easy, huh?" Azael said. "Panthera! Leo! Shut your eyes! This one is going to be a bit extreme, but I don't really have an option!" I shut my eyes immediately, wondering what manner of magic he was going to use. "SOLAR KANNON!" He couldn't have... I was glad I didn't even try to take a peek. The light was so intense, my eyes hurt even when protected by the cover of my eyelids. The Solar Kannon was one of the forbidden magics I had only read a little about, but it was said to take 10% of the user's lifespan in order to send a beam that was an incredible 50% of the sun's heat. Azael was old, so this magic had the potential of being fatal. "Why the hell is he going all out like that," I wondered. At any rate, it was obvious that he was the one more suited for combat with this beast. Panthera tried her best with those magic-infused arrows. As I turned to see her dipping the tips of the arrows in her blood before loading up the bow, I understood what she was doing. Blood Arts were also terrifyingly powerful. But why was she gearing up? Cerberus couldn't possibly have survived the Kannon. "Heh. I only managed to cut it down a bit, did I?" Azael said, struggling to stand up straight. I was right. It did take a lot out of him to use that technique. Cerberus was no more than a skeleton with flesh on it, but it soon shrunk in size to about 8 feet tall and five feet wide. It had drastically reduced now, still, and most of the village wasn't destroyed by Kannon since Cerberus soaked up most of the damage. Azael had favored intensity over quantity, and this was the result. I had to go further. "Leo!" Panthera screamed. "Yeah!" "Give me some juice here. Small and hot, more intensity than quantity, just like your scorch magic." "NOVA!" I said as four small orbs appeared around me. "Blood Art, Conjunction!" The arrows whizzed through the air, coming in contact with the orbs. The two combined and accelerated forward at a hypersonic speed before hitting the beast. The same shriek and howl from before were only heard after the last arrow hit under its eye. "The eyes...its weakness are in its eyes!" "Yes! So let's give it-" "Panthera!" Azael screamed. "Look out!" Rejoicing our little finding...our minor victory, we had a momentary lapse in concentration. As we turned, the only thing I saw was the thick tail of Cerberus slamming into Panthera from her blindspot and sending her flying into a wall with a sickening crunch and splash of blood. ***** To Be Continued.

The Seal of Magic III As Azael started his explanation, the humming of side discussions fell until you could hear a pin drop. "Ascelpia was never meant to be a place humans inhabit. It was more like a wasteland where the evils of the earth existed and thrived, All manner of vile, malevolent magic existed, curses and bewitched humans possessed by the most dangerous evils were confined here." I nodded. "Confined?" "The best the sorcerers of that time could manage was a binding spell that would confine these beings to this city location. It was the walls. When the walls were completed after months of battles with the demons that left 50 sorcerers dead, all the builders involved were killed and their blood was used to paint the four gate pillars..." My eyes grew wider in horror. "What?! How could they..." "This was a hundred years ago, Leo!" Panthera reminded me firmly but softly. "Civilization wasn't what it is now. A lot of things were done extremely for the general good of man. We can't do anything to change what was done then, after all." I said nothing. "But then, one sorcerer - a mysterious man called Abraxas - decided that this place was perfectly habitable and that he would be the one to bring an end to the demons here. He was the only one who knew of the Ocular Pentagrammic Grim Seal; that accursed magic that now keeps this village safe. But his method of doing this was something despicably wrong..." "How wrong?" I asked. "Cerberus, the hound of lucifer." My eyes widened. "Impossible..." "If you know about Cerberus, then you'll understand how logical, but evil what he did was. The hound of Lucifer is known to hunt and devour other evils for its own gain. He summoned it to Ascelpia, and let it loose. Within six hours, all the demons in this land were gone. and Cerberus was a 20-foot tall, 11-foot wide-roaming threat. It was ready to begin consuming humans too, and everything in its sight..." "But he was ready for that, wasn't he? With more human sacrifices and those Grim Seals?" "That was the first time magic like that had ever been used. The builders sacrificed at the pillars only lost their lives, but in this Grim Seal, the souls of those killed are confined to this land, and their fivefold power coupled with the circle made sure the seal could hold Cerberus in. But there was one last problem that needed to be solved. Cerberus was an incredibly strong presence here, even underground." I caught his drift. "Something that powerful was bound to break out someday. Whether it would take a hundred years or even a millennium, it would break out, eh?" Panthera nodded. "Exactly. Which was why the ban on magic was put in place anyway. It was our last defense mechanism, a contract that exchanged our use of magic within the walls of this city for assured security at all times. You can now see that the price to pay for our continued stay in Ascelpia was an expensive one. There is a 70% chance that if someone uses any magic spell at all right now, the seal would be broken." It was a long story. But something stood out. "Why then have you continued to leave the people of the city in the darkness when you could just tell them these things? I'm sure everyone would be more understanding and generally more likely to adhere to these set rules if that's the case." Azael laughed at my suggestion. "You really have this trust in humans that shows your naivete and inexperience. For you to believe that everyone is such a good person... but then I can't blame you, since you aren't in the know..." "The know of what?" I asked, sitting up. "There's even more to this than that horrifying story?" "A Chaotic order, the knights of the demonic Feretory, have set their sights on freeing Cerberus from wherever he is kept and using him to bring the world under demonic control. Apart from us elders and now you, no one else knows where Cerberus currently is. An inability to summon it will however prove that it is being sealed somewhere, and right now the knights of that ungodly order could be right in this village among us, looking for an opportunity to set it free. We won't be doing that." I understood. If the general opinion was that the people of this city could not use magic due to inability, no one would bother trying. "A=They could have their suspicions, however," I reminded them. "It's a waste of time. Only a spell cast by a citizen of this village, born and trained here, could affect that seal. Anything else is inconsequential. So..." "IN THAT CASE, THIS SHOULD DO THE TRICK!" We all turned our heads to one of the guards, who had forced his way into the room. "Free Sealed Entity," he said, uttering the required chant, before stabbing himself in the chest. The rumble that ensued was ominous. ***** To be Continued.

Seal of Magic II The long walk to the meeting venue, which was the meeting hall of the elders, was made even longer by the deafening silence that followed the little bandwagon of myself and the three guards that were sent to summon me. It was barely at the brink of dawn, and the inhabitants of the walled city still slept. It was a perfect setting for a secret execution, and I was in no doubt of the lengths the elders would go to in order to preserve the secrets of this city. That was why I had six-throw knives hidden under my clothing. There was no way I would kill all of them, but I wasn’t going out without a fight. The deaths of the city’s best archer and some of the elders could not be covered up. "Sit down," Panthera said. The Chief Speaker, and one of the fiercest warriors in our city, she was someone I respected... and feared. She wasn't even up to 45, but her exploits in battle had elevated her not only to the position of War general, but she also sat at the table of elders and had a say in key decisions. I sat upright calmly, intertwining my arms and looking on. She hit her spear on the ground, and then the King spoke up, signaling the start of the meeting. "This meeting here has been called to discuss the events of yesterday, Leo." It was a statement, but the intonation and atmosphere made me realize that a response was required of me. I decided to play it safe at first, not giving away that I felt what I did carry any weight or importance. "That being the hunt? It went well. I managed to kill a stag and..." "Playing dumb would be the most foolish thing to do at this point," Panthera snarled. "We don't have patience here." I sobered up quickly. She wasn't in the mood. Panthera and my late mother were good friends, so she had a soft spot for me. That didn't mean she didn't check me when I was messing up. "Then from your stared both now and yesterday evening, I take it that you are referring to my coming through the North Gate..." Their looks only shifted slightly. The look of admonition on Panthera's face told me that I was pushing my luck a bit too far. "...oh, and maybe the fact that I saw the Ocular Pentagrammic Grim Seal?" Panthera's eyes grew wider, and her mouth fell open. The King stood up immediately, as did Azael, a man who was known as the only sorcerer in the village. He was also in charge of the corps that made sure that magic and magical artifacts did not exist in the city. Azael boomed. "How did you know what that was?" "I get out quite a lot. Maybe I did a little research while on my journeys?" "That's forbidden!" the King said. "Within Ascelpia, yes, it is. However, outside these walls, it's a different story altogether. Any knowledge acquired is within my rights and the limits of the law." For a while, we were stuck in a deadlock, just staring at each other. Panthera's features softened, as she saw I wasn't exactly in the wrong, but it was obvious they were all thinking about what to do with me. "If I may speak, I'd like to say that I'm not quite supportive of the approach Ascelpia has taken towards the Magic Issue. An explanation would have been a wiser option, rather than the arrests, secret executions, and all that. That only functions to generate more interest in the matter, like in my case." "You're in no place to give any advice," one of the elders said ominously. "While I'm very aware of that, I'm also aware of the situation at hand. You don't know what to do with me, and since that could change for the worst at any time, maybe I should get a few words in." The King whispered something to Panthera, who nodded. Azael nodded vehemently in the negative, but Panthera stared him down icily. The King then turned to me. "How much do you know?" "A three-word chant and one human life could break the entire seal and release whatever is being kept under it. It's up to you to decide whether or not I know the chant." They all looked petrified, knowing that I knew. A lot. Azael finally found his words. "Your demands?" "I'm in no position to make demands," I said humbly. "I know some of you, and what you're capable of, so I won't go looking for trouble now. All I want...is knowledge. I want to know what's sealed under this city if you would be so generous." They whispered amongst themselves for a while before deciding it was okay to tell me. "We'll tell you these secrets, on the condition that you take a vow of secrecy." I smiled. "That sounds fair." ***** To be continued.

The Seal of Magic I [WP] Magic has always been banned inside the walls of your home city. You never knew why until you looked down upon the city from afar and noticed that framed by the circular outer wall, all the zig-zagging streets and alleyways actually construct a giant magic seal- one for imprisoning great evil. ***** Ascelpia, the place I had always called home. The only city in which magic was strictly forbidden, in all the nine provinces of the kingdom. No one was ever told why, but it was something I was sure the older generation knew, especially the higherups. Research on magic was strictly forbidden as well, so spellbooks, wands, and most literature or artifacts exclusively associated with the use of magic were forbidden. And yet, I managed to know a lot about the subject. I made frequent trips outside the city, as I was an excellent archer and I had regular competitions to attend as well as training sessions and hunts with the Royal Archery unit. I managed to sneak out every now and then and buy several books on the topics. I made sure to hide the books, and I never dared using magic. The knowledge was all that mattered, the reason why I didn't use it was that the ban was put in place to protect the lives of the citizens of the city. I would soon learn why. In the meantime, I even managed to steal a wand. Made of acacia wood and covered with a thin glaze, it was about a foot long and ivory-colored. I stole it from a wandmaker's shop which was left unattended, and it was hidden in my secret hiding place inside my house, where the books were kept as well. I was very much learned in all that concerned magic at this point, and yet I had never used it. But yesterday... yesterday was the day enlightenment finally came. Enlightenment that would not have come if not for an unusual turn of events. It was when I was returning from the hunt I accompanied the king and his archery unit on. My killing of a stag was the highlight of the whole competition, and I was assured of a hero's welcome upon reaching the city. But nearing there, I was told that the path was blocked due to the storm that happened the day of the hunt. Clearing it would take days, which was longer than the one day it would take me to maneuver around by using the path to the East Gate. The East gate was hardly used, as it was in a bit of a hilly area, a hill overlooking the city. Quite a treacherous climb, but according to stories, there were steps etched into the side so one could get down easily. As soon as I reached the top of the hill overlooking the city, I instantly realized that the city was entrenched in more mystery than I ever imagined. It was a Grim Seal, the strongest kind of magic seal to ever exist. It was used to bind demons and malevolent entities. A Grim seal could only be manifested by the death of the caster, as the entirety of a soul was a powerful item to use in exchange for the immense power and effectiveness of the seal. But together with the circular wall surrounding the city, there were five Grim Seals, combining to form one giant Pentagram Seal. A Grim Seal, A Pentagram, and A circle, the symbol of magical perfection... what in the world When I finally reached the East Gate and the guards let me in, I didn't miss the inquisitive looks they gave me. But more importantly, the looks the elders gave me were more ominous. And when they summoned time to a meeting the next day on the spot, I understood that this was the time. It was the time for me to get answers.

Life or Death [WP] Everyone talks about Death and how to avoid him, but no one talks of Life, and no one ever seems to think of him until Death is nearby. The only problem is you keep seeing Life and he seems to be following you. ***** "I'm beginning to see you as a lesser evil," I said, finally turning to face the man in the white suit as soon as I entered my apartment. He walked straight through the door even after I jammed it shut to keep him out. "Evil? That's harsh! A bit of an exaggeration, don't you think?" he asked. already taking a seat on one of the chairs and crossing his legs. His intense stare was a bit off-putting, and I went to take a coke from the fridge before coming out to meet him. "I'll assume you didn't want one," I said, lifting the can of coke to clarify what I was talking about. "But e9ther way, I really doubt that I'd have given you one anyway. You're not much welcome here, you know that right?" He waved it off. "I have no interest in the body-poisoning drinks and other frivolities which you mortals indulge in. And each bottle of that coke you drink brings Death one step closer to you." "If that means you will take a few steps away then I'll gladly drink a whole brewery. And you said you're not interested in - how did you say that- the frivolities we indulge in? And yet your hair is so greased and slick, complete with that boater hat?" Now he looked a bit irked. "I wouldn't expect you to know this, but the 1920s had the best fashion trends and look. Nothing like the ridiculous, outlandish garbs you people put on nowadays." "Oh yeah? Well, the 1920s called. You won't believe it, but they want their words back," I sniggered. "Outlandish? Give me a break. And when you referred to us as mortals, you mean you're an immortal?" "The 'an' there might be a tad unnecessary. I'm just immortal because, well, I do not exist as a human being or anything like that. Actually, I'm just a force. A force who uses this form whenever I want to freely interact with this world. I'm just the fierce that governs everything that lives, blossoms, and thrives." "And then I guess Death is the direct opposite of you." "Bingo! Beautiful in her own dark way, mysterious, and more indifferent than cruel as you humans portray her to be. But then again, you assume she's male, so what would you know anyway?" I shrugged it off as I sat down. "What do you want from me then?" "Nothing. Wait, that's a vague answer that sounds untrue on most counts. Nothing serious, or much, in that case." "I hate to break it to you but that isn't any less vague than your previous answer. 'Nothing serious' or 'nothing much' is pretty much deflecting, don't you think?" "Smart one, aren't you? And with a smart mouth to boot! Well, truth be told, I'm just bored. Perpetual existence as a force till the end of time gets boring, you know? Every once in a while, I like to visit my favorite place where life exists - Earth, of course - and talk to a few people. Anyone who can keep me interested with an interesting dialo-" I interjected, picking up on something he said. "Favorite? As in, there are other planets where life exists?" "Wouldn't you like to know?" he said, a sly grin on his face. "That's for me to know and your NASA to find out, now isn't it?" he said, walking towards the door. "Where are you going?" "Clubbing. You don't do that, and I'm interested in something more exhilarating right now, so, yeah, clubbing. I'll be back tomorrow, so don't miss me too much!" I now understood why people described life as fleeting and short. One minute he was absorbed in my affairs, following me. The next, he was bored and on his way to a nightclub.

Dracula Repellent [WP] You absolutely love garlic. One of your favorite bedtime snacks is eating a raw clove or two. One night you get jerked awake by the uncanny sensation of someone watching you. As you gaze through the room, you spot a pale, cloaked figure pressed into a corner, staring at you in absolute terror ***** It was a craving and a habit that most people found repulsive. It was something my mother hated, and anytime she found me doing it, she never failed to grab the switch and discipline me. My ex-girlfriend couldn't stand it and soon she left, but I could never stop it. And now, it just saved my life. As I looked into the glaring eyes of the cloaked figure, I really wish I could say I wanted to tell them all, "I told you so!" But I did not tell them anything, they weren't here, and I was barely choking back a scream. Maybe I'm moving too fast. A little backstory would be in order. I loved eating garlic. I cannot remember when, or more importantly, why. The trigger or set of circumstances that caused me to love eating raw cloves of garlic up till the point where it was the proverbial 'apple a day for me, something I couldn't do without, was something I couldn't remember. But for as far back as I could remember, which was about the age of seven, I was eating raw cloves as a bedtime snack. And now, at 24, I was still doing it. Like I mentioned earlier, it had caused me a=some trouble with family and fractured many a relationship. But this was the first time it had saved my life. It was a particularly draining workday. Sue, my supervisor, didn't fail to nag at me all day, increasing my workload with every passing hour and chewing me out for being slow. Our office relationship took a turn for the worst the moment I declined her offer to take our out-of-office relationship from friends with benefits to an item. This happened last year, and the only thing I regret is ever hooking up with her in the first place. But then again, I digress. It was a Friday. The weekend was upon us. Just a taste of freedom, a bare fleeting moment before another five days of torture ensued. I wasn't a drinker, and I hated loud music, so I wasn't at the club or bar. I was in my sitting room, watching Netflix, eating some cloves of garlic, and drinking sparkling water. Soon enough, I became tired and I barely staggered to my room and fell asleep as soon as I hit the mattress, clover in hand. It might have been the change in atmosphere that woke me up. My body had this weird sensor, or sensitivity feature I guess, which made it so that I could only sleep if a certain set of conditions were met and sustained. It was the same reason why only this house guaranteed sound sleep for me. Even the slightest change in atmosphere could interrupt my sleep, and I guess this situation was aggravated during my brief stint in college where shootouts between rival gangs and robberies were frequent. But anyway, as soon as I noticed my eyes were open. And the first thing they met were the eyes of the figure standing in my room, his face - illuminated by the moonlight coming from the window - a mask of horror as his eyes darted between my hands and my face. "What the f*ck is in your hand?" I stuttered a bit before replied. "Better question. Who the f*ck are you and what the f*ck are you doing in my house?" I wondered where the borrowed confidence was coming from, especially as I was quite afraid of the man. His broad shoulders and big frame, all hidden by the black cloak, still conveyed that he had the advantage physically. "You eat garlic?!" he almost shrieked. "Yes. Want some?!" I said sarcastically, stretching the half clove towards him. "Hell no!" he shrieked, jumping backward. "That thing is the very bane of my existence! What the hell is wrong with you humans? Not one I can point at and say, 'this one is completely sane! Why would anyone eat garlic? You, Victor Morales,I have been targeting you all week, and now this?!" "Wait! How the hell do you know my name?" His voice rapidly changed to a more female - and familiar - one. "I'm your freakin' supervisor!" I jolted awake, subconsciously using my hand to rub off the drool hanf=ging from my lips and latching itself to the table, and rubbing my eyes. It was 1 PM, still four hours away from the end of today's work, and Sue was standing at the edge of my table, tapping her feet and looking pleased with herself for catching me in such a compromising position. "Sh!t." ***** You could say I chickened out at the last moment and age this a comical, anticlimatic ending. That wouldn't be 100% false, since I partly didn't know where I wanted the story to go from the point where he found the vampire. Thanks for reading, a comment will be much appreciated by the way!

Restore! 2 [WP] Three menacing delinquents entered the building. Ten minutes later, three polite, friendly and helpful teens emerge. Always negative people go in, and positive come out. You were sent by an agency to find out why this keeps happening. ***** Trapped within the confines of the vent I hid in, I let out a sigh and took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. Years of parkour and practice for this very scenario allowed me to react fast, jumping on the chair, taking out the grill, and boosting myself into the air vent shorty=ly before I heard the footsteps approaching the door. The manually activated electromagnetic pads on my gloves allowed me to grip both sides of the large vent which I basically stood inside. I gripped the walls so that all my weight wasn't put on the grill which could collapse at any time. I then dropped a listening device onto the grill which would relay whatever I heard straight to my ears and to HQ. In a short while, the door opened and three people walked in. One of them was a goth biker boy, complete with the green-eyed mohawk, head completely shaved otherwise, piercings with chains, tattoos, fark eyeliner, and lipstick. He was forced into the room by a burly-looking guy - someone I definitely would not stand much of a chance against in unarmed combat. A woman in a suit followed, the grin on her face coquettish and full of malicious intent. As soon as the boy was forced into the chair, the cuffs and straps did their work of making sure he would not be escaping anytime soon. "Jenkins Harlow, you have been sent to..." "It's Jenx to you, stupid hag! And fckin' release me from these straps right now! I don't know what my stupid parents were thinking bringing me to you freakshows, but I'll sue the hell outta-" A punch from the burly guy - on the signal of the woman - nipped the rest of that rant in the bud. By the sound and the little I could see, he had lost a tooth and was probably sitting up blood. "We take a lot of care to leave our clients in good shape, or at least no less shape than when they were brought in. But you're quite annoying, and even though your parents would believe any excuse or lie we could tell them - due to our good reputation, they don't even care about you that much. If you go back to them on your best behavior, but without a leg, they could care less..." Jenkins's eyes widened as he stared at the woman. If her malicious grin betrayed anything, it was that she had done some dirty business in the past, and none of her threats were empty. "Anton, the 'educational' video, please." Her voice was laced with so much innuendo, revealing that the video was anything but educational. I set my mic to 50% volume, same with my hearing aid, and then turned on some loud rock music in the receivers in my ear. I was sure that some sort of hypnosis was going on. A helmet was forced on his head, and metal speculum-like parts on this side forced his eyelids open as the other two put in earplugs before starting the video. My hunch was correct. Whatever was played was quite loud, but the music interrupted it. I couldn't miss how Jenkins shook violently at the beginning of the video but at the end, he was calm. And then I heard it. "You'll listen to and obey constituted authority, but your true allegiance is sworn to me, Amanda Keller, the director of Restore! My instructions supersede those of any other person, body, or entity you know. If you understand this, say 'done." "Done." The process was complete. Jenkins Harlow had been rewired as a law-abiding citizen and model in the society, but more importantly, he was rewired as a pawn to obey every command Keller gave him. HQ could hear everything loud and clear. It was just the intel we needed to take... "I'll be taking him to the dressing room to get rid of all this. Anton, you take care of our sneaky guest in the vent, will you?" I sighed, smiling. This always happened. Always. Taking out a concussion grenade from my pocket, I kicked out the grill and threw it straight into Anton's face. "Concussion in the hole!" ***** I'm leaving this one to you to complete. Does he manage to escape? You be the judge! Sorry, exams haven't allowed me to do anything else. Anything. Hopefully, I can get around to posting more soon. For now, enjoy this!

Restore! [WP] Three menacing delinquents entered the building. Ten minutes later, three polite, friendly and helpful teens emerge. Always negative people go in, and positive come out. You were sent by an agency to find out why this keeps happening. ***** The agency was never wrong on any of their leads. Just six hours of surveillance had given me more than enough evidence to agree with the Director's Claim: strange events were going on at 42 Lincoln Avenue, the office complex of Restore!, the company that claimed to specialize in reconditioning people mentally and otherwise. Normally, the parents usually sent their delinquent kids to boarding schools in abstract locations like Utah in the hopes that the adverse environment and change of bad friends would encourage them to abandon the wild lifestyle and become more responsible, respectable members of society. Of course, the results wee varying degrees of success or outright failure. Th fact was that this[process usually took months or even years to achieve, and even then it was not guaranteed that there would be a success. Why then, was this new company, barely six months old, claiming to be able to recondition delinquents and transform them into the model teenagers their parents wanted and the society demanded in JUST TEN MINUTES... And why were they succeeding every damn time? The agency did not let such strange occurrences slide. There were a lot of unexplained strange phenomena happening in the world. Found 50 years ago, the agency existed to investigate and find out the root of these occurrences. Shrouded in mystery and known only to high-ranking government and military members, we had offices and rendezvous locations all over the world. And I, Operative-130. was asked to handle this one. Alone. "The last three boys have just left the building and joined with their parents," I spoke into the receiver. "All of them have been transformed. The office complex should be closing in a few minutes. I'll be dropping in on their roof from the adjacent building, at 7:30 PM exactly. I'll spend no more than two hours there, irrespective of whether all our mission objectives have been accomplished. I will take snapshots and gather as much information as I can within these two hours." "Verified, 130. The signal is green, you are free to take action as you have just described." The line went dead. It was a confirmation of my knowledge of my objectives. This was my contract with the agency, and I would be held responsible for any action I chose that deviated from this agreed template. Finishing my donut, I stepped out of the black Honda Accord and crossed the road, blending in with the crowd of people, most of which were in the evening rush hour, leaving work. Restore! would be closing in 30 minutes. I had to be ready on the adjacent roof to drop in, dressed in the janitor's uniform. The Signal Jammer would handle all alarms and security cameras while I had digital and traditional tools that could get me past any door. If I met a safe or anything that required melting, then the X-Ray cam would help. I was also to install as many bugs and secret cameras as possible. It was reconnaissance. In and out, as fast as I could. I dropped in as soon as I saw the electronic doors being closed finally. A drunk janitor off duty had been coaxed into revealing the layout of the place and whether or not there was security, which there wasn't. They trusted too much in their fancy technology and cameras, while I was confident in my stealth skills. The floor plan I had was accurate, the agency did have a reputation for getting nothing but accurate intel. Raking the west stairwell, I activated the signal jammer, which would cause a bit of static to obscure my figure. Nothing that would stand out, and the static would register as what it normally would on any model of camera. Soon, I found it. The Reconditioning Room. The place where the magic happened, if I wasn't mistaken. I stepped in and took a look around my surroundings. It was just a white room. Fairly reminiscent of the infamous torture room, but it felt the same, except that there was a chair in the middle of a room, facing a screen. The setup was familiar, and as I brought out a laser pointer with a heat function, I decided to investigate something. Pointing it at the armrest of the chair, I picked a pen and threw it on the armrest. Instantly, a cuff extended from under the armrest like a mechanical jaw, closing in on what should Have been a hand. My hunch was correct, they were only going to strap their 'subject' to the chair and force them to watch... The static in my receiver buzzed. This had never happened during a mission. "130, look alive! Hide! Someone's coming up the elevator to your floor!" ***** This has been in my drafts for a long time because I haven't found a good time to finish it and post due to my exams (which have not ended). I just hope I can finish it today, with the second part.

Imperfection [WP] You live in a perfect world. No one knows what a crime is and everyone lives in peace. You kill a person. The world collapses and nobody knows how to deal with it. Pressed by the governments of other countries, the president of your country starts sending inexperienced people to hunt you. ***** Maybe a part of me wishes it was for a noble cause; a cause that would make me an interesting anti-hero in this situation. But it really wasn’t. I did not end a man’s life to upset the world order which I – I admit – already considered was nothing more than excessively perfect – thus imperfect. I didn’t commit the first crime to start a revolution or introduce others in the world to the dark side that was probably repressed within their subconscious until they did not know that bad thoughts, emotions and actions existed. This was not something done to liberate people from those mental shackles and allow them embrace the other half of their consciousness. This was simply a vendetta against my next-door neighbour, Lambert. I didn’t know when those feelings of hatred arose. Maybe from when he shovelled the snow on his driveway into my compound two winters ago. Or when I found out he’d been peeing in my lawn. Or when he kept on letting his dog poop on my porch. Anyway, it came to a head when…crikey, I can’t even remember the particular event that ticked me off. The memory of the final straw now paled in the sight of the action I took. I don’t know how I did it, or how it came to mind, but it just felt like what I wanted, no needed to do. To get rid of this strange new feeling in my chest. This feeling that somehow did not like the existence of Lambert. Was there a word for not liking someone? For not being…right? I had no idea. What I knew was that I walked up to Lambert while he was picking up the morning paper, and then I beat his skull to a pulp with a hammer, splattering blood all over my clothes. I had no idea how I felt about it. Disgust, fear, guilt – those feelings had no names at the time. They probably weren’t even in existence, so I just felt relief. I walked back to my house and put the clothes I had worn in the washing machine, before I took a bath and went to sleep. By the time I woke up, there were news channel vans outside my house everywhere, and I was on the news. For ending a man’s life. Killing wasn’t a word at the time. Everyone wanted to speak to me, and yet there was no police. Law Enforcement did not exist at that time, because everyone knew what to do, and no i=one was capable of acting outside the law. But whatever emotions could register, the blood all over Lambert’s porch and driveway was an indication that there was a dangerous man out there who was capable of evil thoughts. The uproar it created was crazy, and yet I remained in my house, not running. I realised that there was nothing and no one to run from. I had achieved, at least to an extent, the status of a higher life form than man. But the repercussions were greater than I expected. The uproar reached the International Community, and major world governments met to decide my fate while I stayed at home, watching TV and avoiding the stares of curious neighbours who were finally beginning to feel the emotion fear. And then one day, when the five men in black entered my house, I knew they had made their decision. “How much did they say they would pay you, if you would…end me?” “10,000 dollars, each. You have to understand…” “That what? Understand what exactly? That you’re here to do to me what I did to my neighbour?” “The money…we want it,” one of the men said. “You’re the one who did that thing,” he said, holding his own hammer. They all held hammers, but their hands were shaky, and they were sweating profusely. I picked up the hammer. These people were not like me. The monetary compensation made them feel like they could do it, like they would be able to stimulate the parts of their brain that would allow them take another’s life. But they couldn’t. I could, and I was going to test out whether it was just because it was Lambert, or whether I really had the capacity for cold-blooded murder. I didn’t stop swing that hammer till they couldn’t move. Till their brains were splattered all over the carpet. And still, I felt nothing. I smiled. And then I laughed. “This world…I’m really the only one with this capacity for behaviours outside what is normal?” I asked myself. What was…normal? The word I was looking for was right, but because ‘wrong’ did not exist, then right did not either. I was just different. Better. “I’ll control everything. I’ll take over this city, the country, and then the world. And nobody can stand in my way. Nobody.” ***** It was quite difficult to imagine a world where nobody knew what it was to commit a crime, or do wrong, but maybe my efforts were steered in the right direction? Remember to Like and Comment, I’d appreciate that!

Klaus Van Helsing **[WP] A grizzled fighter walks into a tavern covered in scars. They bear the insignia of a respected order of monster slayers, and you simply must know their story. Your respect for them increases when they tell you that they hunt the most feared species of monster in the known world, the clown.** ***** Dusk Tavern was something of a family business. My family business actually. Generations of Ruxley's before me had run the tavern which also had a little inn for travelers. It was simply the one place in this town to stop, relax, and recharge in the course of one's journey. I had seen my fair share of crazy occurrences in my 10 years of tending to this tavern. We had frequent visits from the police, Bounty hunters and all that because it was more likely than not that wanted criminals stopped by the tavern for a drink or a bed. Of course, we maintained our integrity as a business, never willingly offering aid or assistance to known criminals. Little wonder we managed to stay open for over a century, maintaining a good relationship with the police. But as I said, I had seen my fair share of strange men, and the event I'm about to narrate is perhaps the most outstanding. It was common knowledge that there were monsters out there - no I'm not talking about the worst kind, humans, but the monsters one read in books and children talked about. Centaurs, Man-eating giant spiders, blood-sucking vampire bats with limbs almost as long as a man's, vampires, werewolves, witches, maybe even ghosts. They existed. We'd heard stories, and I'd had a few run-ins with creatures I knew were supernatural. I also knew that the police would not take care of these. Perhaps could, since the situation was less of a choice and more of a simple inability to handle such. Monster Hunters were those that were entrusted with ridding the world of those creatures. Nit recognized by the King or Parliament but recognized by Law Enforcement as help in matters they couldn't handle. Even though they existed, I had only seen and talked to a few low-rank monster hunters. The ones that hunted down small ghouls, or at best, vampires. So it came as a surprise when this strange man walked into the bar. He wore a tank top which showed off his impressive chest and abdominal muscles. His buff arms were covered in scars, and a scar ran from the right side of his forehead, across the eye, and down to his cheek. That eye was still open, and it seemed to be working fine. There was a crossbow in his arms, two swords sheathed on his back, and what was a utility belt containing many vials of colored liquid strapped around his waist. But what got to me was the insignia tattooed on his right arm, around his deltoid area. A cracked skull with swords stuck in the eyelids and a pair of wings behind. The Insignia of the Helsings, a well-known family of Monster Hunters. "Y-you're..." He smiled broadly. "Klaus Van Helsing, and it's a pleasure to meet you David Ruxley." "You know me?" "Generations of Helsings have also patronized this tavern, surely you must know that?" "Yes, but..." I did know that. In fact, there was a silver piece that was melted into the board atop the counter. From the very first sale and to our first customer, the first Helsing. It still did not explain why he knew my name. "Of course we keep tabs on who runs the tavern at all times. I've just not been around here for a while. The worst monsters out there have a knack for ridding you of any changes to rest." "The worst?" I asked, uncertain. "The worst. Clowns." I gasped, and the only other person in the tavern chuckled. "Clowns cannot be that scary, are they even monsters at all?" "Heh," Klaus said, downing a shot of whiskey before turning. "Fo you people really think children who fear clowns are being irrational? There's a lot to learn from kids. Clowns are worse than the monsters you see with fangs and claws, and that's because their work is more psychological than physical." I asked the cooks to get a pie ready for Klaus. "Stay awhile and tell us your story, will you? The pie and the next two rounds of drinks are on the house." "When you put it like that... I guess I'll tell you about what happened last week when I went to London." "The city?" "Most of you assume these things only happen in the rural, secluded areas. It's worse in the city because it's hard to differentiate between the actions of monsters and humans. Buildings everywhere, Filth and all that, plus the monsters there are smarter and better at hiding." The other man nodded, understanding his point of view. "I was called after a young man committed suicide three days after celebrating his 16th birthday..." "That's not..." "He was the fourth person to commit suicide in three days. The other three also went to that party." We both gasped. "That's..." "The police had their hands tied, so the family, one of these rich aristocratic ones, called me in to investigate, and the first thing I asked was if they hired a clown, to which they admitted." "How did you know?" "I'll explain as we proceed. I then asked them to write down the address of the clown and then I went to visit him. With my sword tucked in the arms of my trenchcoat." We were riveted as he talked. "Zombo the Clown lived in a rundown, depressing apartment in the rough part of town. Hardly the kind of place that an entertainer who brought joy to kids was supposed to live in. I kicked down the door and entered, and the inside was even worse than the outside. Filthy, disorganized, and gloomy, it looked like it hadn't been inhabited for years. And yet, there sat a man in front of the mirror, applying red lipstick." "Was he..." "Of course, he wasn't preparing for another gig, he was preparing for me. He knew a monster hunter was coming, and he was preparing to engage me. The whole clown mask was part of his battle preparations." "Battle preparations? Makeup? What do you..." "Most of these things you people take as normal have serious meanings to them in the supernatural. Clowns are generally dome of the most depressed people in the world, real clowns that is, not just your uncle in a wig and red nose. Professional clowns put on that makeup and you never know that it's really a pact. A demonic pact." "D-demonic?" "There are several demons that steal the happiness or joy of people. Neonaryx is the weakest one, the one that targets children. Its face is the same as that of a clown, and that's why Clowns use that mask. They want to steal the joy of kids, and so they invoke a demon to steal that joy. But in reality, an exchange occurs, since the mask is just a gateway. Children get the depression of an adult, while the Clowns drain the joy of children. It's evil," he spat. "Why...why kids? Why not adults like themselves?" "They can barely keep that Neonaryx demon under control. Any of the demons that steal the happiness from older, more stable individuals would take over their bodies. The children killed themselves due to the depression, and if I didn't destroy him while he was still in that mask, all of the others would." "You say 'while he was still in that mask' like it's a condition," the other man commented. "Yes, it is. Doing that terminates the contract and forces the release of the joy of the children. The man of course is doomed to suffer in hell with Neonaryx for eternity." I grimaced. "So...?" "So? Oh, of course, I killed him. Cut off both arms and beheaded him. His body turned to ashes almost immediately, as did most people who have invoked demons into them at any point in time." At this time it was late, and he had finished the pie. "Well David, it's been pleasant, but I have to be on my way now." "It's almost midnight, surely you'd like to stay the night?" He smiled. "I have to take care of a ghoul this time. It only comes out at midnight, so I've been here just to pass time. It was nice having this chat with you anyway," he said, stepping out. As I said, I've seen my share of strange men. Maybe I'll tell you another tale, whenever I find the time too. ***** This one was extra long, yes, I know, but it was worth it because I really loved this prompt. Remember to Like and Comment, thank you!

Don't Listen To The Music [WP] This is a priority message from the Department of Homeland Security. Do not listen to the music. Destroy any device capable of playing music. Avoid contact with anyone you suspect has listened to the music. ***** I never listened to the news. I never tried to visit the online news channels either, to keep myself updated. It was just one of the quirks I had, I didn’t really care about such things. If it was really important, it would find its way into my Twitter feed or my more informed friends’ mouths. I didn’t really want to concern myself with things that were not my school work, after all, there was hardly and good news out there. Maybe if I had decided to be less of an ignorant nonchalant Gen Z, and more concerned with current affairs, maybe things might have turned out different. Maybe. Regret was a bad feeling, a bad place to be. Right now, I find myself looking at past decisions and characters that might have contributed to my current situation, and blaming them. Because as I lay choking in a pool of my blood, my body going numb and everything going dark, I did not want to believe that I didn’t stand a chance, not for a second ***** 18 Hours Earlier. The message sat in my Notifications Tab, looking ominous as hell. Red background with white colored text, it read: `“This is a priority message from the Department of Homeland Security. Do not listen to the music. Destroy any device capable of playing music. Avoid contact with anyone you suspect has listened to the music.”` “Wh-what music?” I asked within myself. The message seemed to come from an app called Priority Notice, but when I tapped the notification, nothing seemed to open. The notification didn’t go away either, even when I tried to swipe left on it. And I couldn’t disable it either, as it was a System Notification. For the first time, I looked at the TV set in my little apartment room. I was at college, and we had just concluded the semester examinations the previous day. It was 7:30 AM and we were supposed to have a picnic – I and my friends Dave, Sally, Pamela and Marcus. I almost turned on the TV before I remembered the warning. `“…Destroy any device capable of playing music.”` I didn’t know if it was a prank or not yet, but the conspiracy theorist inside me would not allow me to take any chances. Removing the Television’s plug from the outlet, I took it into my cupboard and sat down. I collected some noise cancellation earplugs I bought because of my annoying next-door neighbors and put them on before switching on my phone and setting it to ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode. Satisfied, I entered the Twitta App and went to trends. Sitting on top was ‘The Music’, and it was a global trend. My hand shook, but I managed to get my emotions in check and tapped on it. Almost immediately the page loaded, I was greeted with a twitt from the verified account of the Department of Homeland Security that mirrored the notification I got. Okay, so that was NOT a prank, I mused. Scrolling down, I began to see twits from others. The first one had a video attachment, and read: `“Not sure what’s going on but this might be part of the problem with the music. Saw him chasing his friend down the street before this happened…remember to wear earplugs, I couldn’t hear anything that was happening and I don’t want to. Remember the music, don’t drop your guard for a second.”` So others were taking the same precautions I was? Interesting. I opened the video and after loading for a while, it began to play. The scene was recorded from an upstairs window, perhaps just the first floor, as I could clearly see the first man that ran down the street, obviously for his life. About 40 seconds later, another man chased him down, running wildly. Before he left the lens’ field of view, blood suddenly spurted with force from his nose, mouth, and what appeared to be his ears before he fell to the ground. The video ended soon after, and I went back before it could replay. Was that what the music caused? The comments section was full of speculation and craziness, but people affirmed that this was the case, based on what they were seeing. I looked outside, and for the first time I realized just how bad things were at the moment. There were dead bodies outside, all in pools of blood. Just then a car came into view, much out of control. It crashed into a wall rather badly, and then a few teenagers stumbled out of the passenger seats, one of them holding a Bluetooth Speaker. Soon, hey began holding the sides of their heads, running wildly before blood burst forth from all the orifices on their heads and they fell. It had to be the music that was playing, there was no way… I wasn’t taking any chances. Locking my door, I noted that I had enough food for the next three days. I would go and get more in the night, just in case the situation did not get better soon. ***** 7:25 – 5 minutes till death. My phone screen brightened as a notification came on. `“I’ve been knocking on your door. Open up!”` Alice. Damn. She was my next door neighbour. A bit too social for my liking, as I was an introvert, but she was nice, We talked a lot, and she was just about the only person in the apartment I had held a conversation with for more than a minute. Opening the door, there she stood, a look of fear and frustration on her face. She rushed into my arms, and although thus was strange, as we hadn’t been so handsy with each other before, I hugged her back and let her sob a little. She pulled out one of her earplugs, and I did so. After all, we did need to converse, and she didn’t pose a threat. “It’ll be okay.” “You know better than to say that, Zeke.” She was blunt, and right. There wasn’t a solution in sight, yet. “It’s just the beginning. This can go two ways, so let’s just pray for the best and try to survive. I’m going to get some supplies, are you c-“ It was then I saw what she was doing with her hands. She had her Music Player app open, and her thumb hovered around the first song in the ‘Just Added’ playlist. It clicked in my head immediately. I had miscalculated. The look in Alice’s eyes wasn’t fear or frustrating, it was resignation. Surrender. She had given up, But, why… “Why me too?” I asked, as her hand tapped the song. “Why…” “I... can’t go alone. And I’m saving you the horrors of what the world will turn into in the next few da-“ The music drowned out her words. I cannot remember what she said, or if the words even registered. All I could hear was the loud beating of my heart; all I could feel was the intense pained as my lungs rattled against my ribcage. I was having a nosebleed as I scratched at my chest wildly, desperately wanting to feel anything. Anything but the pain. As the world around me took a red tint with the crimson red blood that spurted from my heart which had exploded, the last thing I saw was Alice’s face, peaceful in death. I coughed up blood, reminiscing the day’s events and what I could have done to prevent this outcome. Nothing. Maybe Alice was right. Maybe this forced peace was what I needed. ***** Total annihilation of my characters, courtesy of several days of reading @Ozzyy and @Hanzell lol. How did you see this story? Remember to leave a like and a comment!

The Forge [WP] Everyone's talking about heroes wielding legendary swords that only they themselves can wield, but nobody's talking about the craftsman that made them all. Nobody's talking about blacksmiths. After all, someone's gotta put Excalibur in the stone. ***** The wielder would always take all the glory. I knew this, and yet I hated it. Even though that was a fate I had, with or without my consent, resigned to as the ultimate blacksmith who created mystical blades, I still did not like this lifestyle of obscurity. Arthur fought the battles, defeated the enemies with Excalibur, the mystical sword which he pulled out of the stone. The sword was imbued with magic that imparted upon him, an unyielding spirit of courage, strength, and stamina. Simply, it just guaranteed him victory in all his battles. So why was I a little bit pissed? Why were there some tiny pangs of jealousy? Well, everybody seemed happy with his exploits - which was expected. A strong leader is an extremely desirable trait, and even I had to agree with that. But what else? Ah, yes, it must have been the fact that they were all comfortable with him pulling out from a mere stone, the sword to which most of his exploits could be alluded to. There. That was all they needed to know. No one was intellectual enough, or even cared enough, to ask questions about how it got there and who must have made it. What magic could have been used to enchant it to be so selective, and to choose someone with Arthur's qualities? These were genuine questions that could have been asked, and some credit, some appreciation could have been paid to the blacksmith. *"Pride?"* the voice in my head asked. And rightfully so. When I accepted this responsibility, I knew that a life of secrecy and obscurity was what awaited me. I knew no one would have to know that I was the maker of these weapons, to preserve the ancient methods and magic from unworthy hands. I could remember the day when my I was brought to The Forge. I was an undesired child, there were two girls and three boys before me. My parents were not trying for another child, but somehow, my mother who was quite on the door of menopause gave birth to me. So my father did what he knew best, deflecting responsibility by dedicating my life to the gods once I was 8. A week after my eighth birthday, a cloaked man came to my house in the wee hours of the morning and took me from my parents for a certain amount which I did not know. I heard the coins jingle in the pouch as I cried, and neither my father nor my mother cared to kiss me on the forehead.  When we had walked a little into the forest, the man finally spoke. "The do not know which of the gods you were dedicated to. I come from the Forge, and that’s a place where you're wanted. Where you're needed. Where you'll be important." I beamed at those words. Because that was my weak point, I needed love, attention. Damn it, I needed to be wanted, to be considered important. Why should I have two parents available and still need that? After a few rituals and rites to officially make me a blacksmith, I started my apprenticeship there. Perce, the blacksmith who brought me there, was an old man with a severe back pain. I didn't understand how he managed to continue to work in that condition, nut I was in awe of him. After he thought me all he needed to know, he gave me his blessings, and then went off on a journey. Somehow, I knew he wasn't going to return. And that was the last I saw of him. Excalibur was the first blade I made then. I got the ore from a strange metal element high in the mountain range. I didn't know if it'd be worth it going through all those risks to make those swords - steep slopes, the lack of oxygen, the cold and then the wild mountain goats that seemed ready to pick a fight  But I got it anyway, and I fashioned the sword. The handle was made of cedarwood, engraved and then encrusted with a gem that housed the magic I wanted to imbue the sword with. But what magic did I use? I wanted to make the sword for a conqueror and a courageous king, a fitting weapon of war. These were the ideals I received from Perce. But at the last moment, I cghanged my mind. Power; savage power wasn't a good criteria for wielding such a sword. A sword I risked my life to forge. That criteria didn't make it selective, and neither did I want my sword to be used to cause so much grief to others. So I went for the character. Only one who was coruageous, yet meek, wuth a merciful, kind heart, and a desire to ensure that jusice was delivered would get the sword. And then I went out and pushed it into that rock, where no other hands but mine and the person who was orthy would be abke to pull it out of, It was seven years later when Arthur pulled it out; I had forged over fifty other wepaons in that time, and some remarkable heroes were already using them. But I never forgot my Excalibiur, and as soon as I heard it had been pulled out, I ran to check. The youg man who wielded it was a good one; I had looked into him and I saw the sincerity of his heart. Smiling to myself, I went back into the forest, knowing my sword was in good hands. Even niw I smiled, almost forgetting about my earlier complaints. Old man Perce was right when he said, "Beldon, there will come a time when you'll be pining for recognition, and I understand that perfectly. Bur know that you'll realize that there's nothing more staidfying than seeing your weapon in the right hands, being used for the right exploits." ***** This was a nice prompt, amd yeah, I'm now typing on a laptop, which I'm much more comfortable with. How did you like this story? Like and Comment please. *****

Timeskip II The turn of events left me perplexed, and that was putting it nicely. Of all the predictions and calculations, no one said anything about mankind advancing in reverse. Vikings. Traditional Vikibgs, not futuristic ones. Either the world had been conquered and controlled by a barbaric movement, or the world was now a free-for-all wasteland, where various groups fought for dominance and control. Neither of those outcomes sounded good. "This magic, science. Siii-ens. Science." "Siiii-ensss. This science, what?" At that, another man walked into the room. He was dressed in their garbs, but something about him gave off a different vibe. It was quite clear that he wasn't one of them per sé, even though he was dressed like them. When he spoke, I confirmed that. "This is amazing. One of the last structures standing which depict early 21st century technology. Or any technology at all. And it's been preserved perf...oh!" He had finally spotted me, still dressed in the wooly hazmat suit, still inside the chamber. "Yeah, oh is a perfect expression. What the hell is all this?" "You! What science is! Methinks you liar!" The warlord screamed again, handling his sword in a way mlthst made me wary. "Oh, sorry about this, I'll explain to him," the newcomer said. He then started talking to the Vikings in a language I could not understand. Maybe some Nordic language 9r something? Anthropology wasn't my forte exactly. But he managed to pacify them. I thanked the stars that he was here. This was probably his job. Bridge the communication gap between our both groups. Finally they were done, and he turned back to me. "There's good news and bad news." "The good news first. I know it can only get worse from here, there are friggin' vikings in my secret hideout." He smiled. "The good news is that they aren't going to kill you and you won't be suffering like the rest of the... captured non-vikings?" My ears perked at that. "Captured? Suffer?" "I'll explain later. The bad news is that you'll be forced to work for them. They want to use your knowledge of science to their advantage in the war. I'll explain that part as we go." "We go now?" "No better time than the present, that's what these guys believe in. Except if you want to be beheaded, that is." That wasn't much of a choice. "A forced no-brainer," I muttered, still following them anyway. "You can start explaining." "Oh, yeah. Hmmm. When did you enter that Cryogenic Chamber?" I was wary of that question for a second, but then it had long passed 2020, when the world powers blew hot on anyone found even delving into the project. "That was 2021." "2021...ah? It was illegal back then! That was the year after the great pandemic shook the world, wasn't it?" I sighed. "Correct on both counts. It was risky then, but I had no intentions of continuing to live in that godforsaken timeline." He grimaced. "You probably should have stayed there, or then, should I say?" The joke was lost on me. His response was not in the least encouraging. "Well, I'm Xavier. Xavier Parks. You?" "Darron Winchester." He stopped in his tracks. "Darron Winchester? You mus know Lars Crick then." "Lars? Of course I know Lars! Where is he?" "Six feet beneath us in what is now the camp of the Vikings. Lars was the geezer that built some of the best tech used to battle the Vikings in the war which conquered this city. They lost, he was caught and killed." "Your tone suggests you don't think highly of him," I said through gritted teeth, my fingers balled into a fist. "Oh, you two were close? Understandable. Let's just say I'm not a fan of what Lars turned the war into. A waste of lives on the side of the resistance. He should have known when to surrender. That's more reason why the rest of you are being ruled with an iron fist " "And what of the rest of the world?" "In various states of peace, wars and so on. The Vikings will conquer everywhere and everything, it's only a matter of time. And you will be of help, you and this lab here. Scientific advancements in our warfare will hasten that process." "And what if I have no intention of doing that nonsense?" "Then you die. It's not rocket science, Darron." He said, walking away dismissively. I had to resist the urge to kill this guy. For now. As for me, my own path was clear. The resistance was going to be reborn. Using materials from this lab. ***** I've decided to leave this as an inconclusive end (for now). Maybe I might later come back to this and create a longer series from it, I'm not sure. But how do you like it? Likes and Comments please!

Timeskip I [WP] "As you slowly awaken from your cryogenic sleep, you realize nothing is like how the scientists said it would be. Instead, a savage warlord and his retainers stand before you, and in broken english he offers you a simple choice: Teach him the magics of your people, or die now." ***** "This is as risky as it gets, Darron..." I stared at my partner, Lars, who looked at me with skeptical, fear-filled eyes. "...too many variables, unknowns and obvious dangers. This whole project has been marked as extremely dangerous. It's strictly prohibited...nah, banned. We would be in serious..." I sighed. "Don't you think I know all this already, Lars? Don't you think I thought all this through before deciding to proceed?" "Apparently you didn't think it throught long enough, Darron. Ten more minutes of thought and you'd know that this idea is crazy. Did you hear the projections of those scientists? I mean, these were Leading scientists from all fields and they all said..." "They all said what they thought they knew, or maybe actually what they were paid to say. Probably a ruse by the government to make sure no one was..." "Doing things that could potentially kill them?" I was getting slightly pissed at this point, but then again we'd played this game maybe a hundred times for the past two months. Two months since I went completely off the grid and devoted my time and energy into this project. The Timeskip. It had been an idea toyed with in most Sci-Fi movies from a long time ago. Cryogenics. Or at least a special branch of it. A branch that was involved with the freezing of a human to preserve them until a later time. Usually, it had been adopted when a person died, especially one of importance of at least enough affluence. As 'modern' medicine, more like what was available at the time, was unable to resuscitate the person, perhaps in the future, scientific advancements would make this a possibility. Right now, the project was put on a halt because the scientists predicted that the futuristic levels of development in the somewhat distant future would make waking up in that time something of a serious handicap. The many projects to commercialise space travel and living - which were moving at a fast pace - would mean that if someone woke up anything north of 60 years in the future, very few people would be left, and it'd be a poverty stricken zone, filled with war, famine and the worst humanity had to offer. ***** Lars sighed. The project was just about two days away from completion. He continued coming here to help Darron because he knew he had to. He was the only trusted colleague. And even if he had no intention to involve himself in the Cryogenics Project, or The Timeskip, he understood Darron's reasons perfectly. The pandemic hit harder, but the aftershocks - the ones that epidemiologists hinted at but never really expected to happen- they did happen, and they were brutal. Economies crashed, and microconflicts had snow alled into wars. America wasn't fully involved in any war at the moment, but by taking sides and then financing or facilitating one side's war efforts, they were slowly pitting themselves in the radar. "This lab cannot be detected. Off the grid. Built right into a 1987 Nuclear Bunker. It's the perfect setup, Lars." They both knew all this, but Lars prayed he would dissuade me before that time came. **** But two days later, I was ready. We both were. Lars was content to see that I was shaking. At least he was nervous, even if it was a bit. It was only logical that he should be nervous. "So you're doing this?" I was in the Chamber already. It already felt a bit cool, and the machine hadn't even been turned on. "Yeah, I am." This was it. The machine would thaw me out automatically in 60 years, if it had not been manually activated by the door lock. The security measure was that after Lars left the room, he would lock it from the outside. If anyone got past the door, they would trigger an emergency thawing of the ice and I'd be free in ten minutes, protected my several layers of lasers. He'd then be able to escape from a back door. Lars wasn't going to come back. Ever. By the time I woke up, if everything went well, Lars would either be dead or a ninety-something year old geezer. This was ideally the last time we would be seeing each other. "Thanks for the help, Lars." I "Anytime," he said ruefully as they both sobbed. "Anytime." Switching the machine on, he took one last look at me before walking out of the room. The sleep inducing gas was pumped into the chamber, and all went dark soon. ***** The noises woke me. It wasn't cold. The thawing had worked perfectly, but what day was it? Had the machine worked any? I left a contingency for this just in case. "***BZZT. It's 2:49 PM, January 12, 2076***." 55 years. Not quite 60, but still a long time. My brain unclouded slowly, and then I finally realized that if I was woken before time, then someone and found and entered here. Looking up, I saw past the laser grids to three men, dressed in strange, medievel garb. His men managed to tamper with something on the control box and the lasers were deactivated. My chamber was also opened. I still had some energy to get up and leave, bitbthey were faster. As they approached, I finally realized that they were... Vikings. What the hell? "You. Intruder?" The one in the center spoke up. He seemed to be the leader, or even a king, judging by thelarge helmet he wore, embellished with gold nuggets and two curved horns. "You're kinda in my space, so I guess you are?" "You...tell me what you do. Ice. Ice go away. Red light. Burn..." He raised his half melted sword to my face. The lasers were quite effective. "Should have been you instead of your sword." "You wizard? Warlock?" "Nope. Scientist." He seemed not to understand a word of what I was saying, because his next statement was bone chilling. "You tell me what magic you do. Or you lose your head." ***** Two part series, anyone? Like and Comment please, thanks!

Confidential [WP] You're an intern working at a government facility and stumble upon an unlocked office door. Out of curiosity, you enter and look at the files and computers present. They're about conspiracy theories, and that they're all correct. ***** "Don't believe whatever you saw in the movies," the head of HR said, eliciting a laugh from us all as the orientation program came to an end. "All those ideas of Area 51, Aliens, secret nuclear weapons, Frankenstein and all that are just hogwash. This place is as boring as hell. Makes we sorta wonder why you chose this job," he said with a mock conspiratorial wink. We laughed again. He was good at this, and the whole program had been fun. I was posted to the analytics department, as I expected. It was where I wanted to work. Less chances of getting too social and up close with everyone else in the office, which was one of the best parts of my department. Was I a recluse? Well, one might call me that, and although I'd be offended, there was some truth to it. So I would not argue with it, and that's what made me who I was. The boring guy who took all decisions based on logic. The best for the job. Which made the current situation which I was currently in something of a real dilemma. It was Monday. Mondays are just about everyone's worst day of the week, coming from a short as hell weekend to be thrown back into he whirlpool of work/school. I was looking forward to going back home, soaking in a nice bubble bath and then researching the next cryptocurrency coins I'd be investing in. I know, I know - pretty boring stuff. But those plans were shelved when I saw the door open. Ideally, I was supposed to walk past it and continue going wherever I was headed. I wasn't supposed to do a double take or stop. It was an unspoken rule in the job that confidentiality and discretion were essential. Mind your business's and do your job in your given department, that was all. I had done a good job of that up until then, and that door left slightly open shouldn't have interested me. I should have kept on going. But then my curiosity got the best of me. That room had remained at the back of my mind since the day of the orientation, even though I tried hard to deny it and suppress those thoughts. But on that day, when we were being briefed on what different rooms were used for asnwe walked down the hall, the HR Head just looked at the room, coughed and said "Oh, sorry," as we moved on. I didn't want to look around me to confirm of any of the other new recruits considered this strange, because I was sure we were being monitored by someone amongst us, and I would be singled out and 'taken care of' if they noticed. But Room 237 was always a concern for me. And that room was open now. I fought with an inner voice that told me to let myself in for a while, and I lost. Looking around and confirming that there were no cameras her, I sneaked in and looked around. The room was full of cabinets arranged in a haphazard fashion. Some box-shaped and other skid marks on the ground confirmed that there were some other boxes here that had been removed recently. So this room was visited regularly, most likely after or before office hours. Why? What was in these cabinets? I used a hairpin iny wallet to unlock one. Drawing out one of them, I saw its file jacket was marked confidential. All the alarm bells in my head went off, but I ignored them and opened the file. It was titled the Kennedy Incident, and its pages were yellowed. A musty smell came from them too, and I stifled a cough for fear of getting caught. Opening it up, I confirmed it was from the 20th Century, 1962 to be precise. It described the preparations and incidents leading to the... Shit! It couldn't be. There was no way... Conspiracy theories. All of them, the UFO sightings, the speculation that the 1969 moon landings were staged. Nobody ever did make it to the moon. President Kennedy's assassination was a cover up, Lee Harvey Oswald was framed, and... "What are you doing here?" I never got to finish that story. To know who ordered the death of JFK. Who planned it, who orchestrated it, and who executed it. Because the head of HR was at the door. Hanson Murk. "I-I..." His eyes widened at the sight of the papers, and then he looked at my face. "You've looked in, haven't you?" There was no need to lie. Even if he hadn't caught me with the papers in my hand, there was no reason for me to be in this room. No amount of explaining would ever get me out of this. I had to resort to blackmail. "Yes I did, and I have these," I said, waving the papers at him. "A really incriminating evidence this is, isn't it? I'm sure the public will be quite interested..." He frowned deeply. "...unless I'm allowed to leave here with a tiny compensation of about a million dollars. Can't be so much now, can it?" I was pushing my luck a little bit, but I was going to get something out of it if I had any chance. "Is that so?" He asked, coming closer. I stood my ground. "Yes. I'm not intimidated by you, Hanson. I have the upper hand here, and I'm not afraid to..." I didn't see the karate chop coming. Right down at a point between my shoulder and neck, it came with a paralyzing force that left me conscious, but unable to move any part of my body. I was basically a loving statue. 'Wh..mmgh" even speaking was quite impossible. "You should have just been the good employee that you were and stayed out of what's not your business. Now you messed up thrice, by entering here, opening and reading those documents, and trying to blackmail me." He smirked before continuing, "The ball is still in my court; I'll raise an alarm now, and you'll be hurled over to my car to be rushed to the hospital having collapsed in an 'unclear' set of events. You'll never make it to a hospital. Area 53 is where we conduct 'human' experiments for top secret, unethical projects, like super soldiers and so. That's yet another valid conspiracy theory you didn't have a chance to confirm." I struggled to scream, but nothing came forth. "We've hardly recorded any successes in all the experiments there, but it'll be interesting - what will be done to your body of course. And then, the disposal of your loose end self will be taken care of, just like that." I glared at him. "Ah, yes. Suspicions, people will talk - that's what you think, eh? We'll just cover that up like we've been doing for decades now. And if anyone gets too close, we dispose of them too." He began to drag me out into the hallway. I was slipping in and out of consciousness now, the blow was quite debilitating. All I thought about was how I'd chosen that one moment to abandon my logical process, and how I was about to die for it. ***** A week of writer's block coupled with exams around he corner and I bring this to you, one of my least favourite works. I'll just leave it here for your scrutiny while I try to make a better masterpiece tomorrow or the next. Remember to Like and Comment your thoughts on this

Murdersdale 22: Finale The cup of tea, like all of the few things about Corndale that Miranda liked, was now just a pleasant memory. On a ship en route Spain, all she could do was reminisce the time she spent in that town. Albeit most of it was spent in constant danger of being killed, she enjoyed a thrill that she had never felt for a while. The bad people they'd left in the dust: Scarecrow Thomas and his gang, Sheriff Mantle, Bucky and his gang - it had all been worth it. The Sheriff was to be hanged in a week from present day. She couldn't help but feel sorry for him, but it only seemed fair that a man who brought down the law strictly on other criminals got it too. His face fell when he was sentenced, but nothing more was said. Scarecrow Thomas and his gang were to be hanged on the same day as well. They broke into high-pitched sobs and cries, but that was futile. Bucky and his Gang got 20 years each: the state frowned on armed robbery heavily. Compared to their 'colleagues', the sentence might have as well been a slap on the wrist. They did not appeal it for fear of angering the judge. Those whose fates were still undecided: Cornelius Finnegan. He hadn't been found yet, testament to how good he was, but now the FBI knew about him. And he was on the most wanted list, so that was that. Rumor had it that some of his properties were sold to generate a bounty of 10,000 dollars which was then placed on his head in the Black Market. Finnegan was wanted alive, by crook or by hook. Martha and the others back at the town decided to stay. As was expected of them anyway. Not only was that Thier only home, but someone had to continue Lady Cynster's legacy in America. Miranda understood that perfectly. And Jedidiah? That was another story. She didn't know where they stood. And something told her she never would. If the hot, steamy kiss they shared before she boarded the ship told her anything, it was a promise of things to come when (or if) he would come to Spain as he promised. But she knew what his job was like. And its demands. And the commitment it required. "It's me or justice," she told herself. He would either have to choose between what he had devoted his life to and a woman he'd only a met less than two weeks ago. The odds weren't in her favor. As a loan tear streaked down her cheek, she dabbed at it with a handkerchief. The memories were still there, and she'd get over him if he didn't come. A knock on the door of her suite broke her outnofbher reverie. "Room Service!" The male voice on the other side called. She u locked the door, called out for him to come in, and went to sit on the bed, getting herself ready to get out and enjoy some ocean breeze before the man spoke again. "Being cautious are we? I take it the diadem is in that bag?" Looking up at the source of the voice, she saw a man with a gun leveled at her forehead. She froze. "Pardon my manners. Cornelius Finnegan here, pleased to make your acquaintance for the short period of time we shall cross paths." "You...b@stard!" ***** "One would think someone in your situation wouldn't let their guard down so, but then that's too much of an expectation from you eh? The bad guys were caught, save one who was on the FBI's most wanted list, you had solved the case, and the diadem was in your position. Surely you could relax, eh?" He sneered. "How did you get on this boat?" "Explanations and narrations are too tedious. Besides, what good will it do you? You're as good as dead. Just know that I have sworn to not only thrive in this Earth, but to excel. By any means possible. I lost a lot when I abandoned everything at Corndale, bit looks like with that diamond, I'll be well on my way to rebuilding that fortune. And in America again, just to spite you Spanish b@stards!" He cocked the gun. Well, this is where I say 'farewell'; I have places to be while I'm still on this stupid ship. Miranda closed her eyes, preparing for the sound that would take her life, but as she did so, she saw slight movement at the doorway. The doorway that Finnegan left open. Error. The crack made her open her eyes and she watched as Finnegan crumpled to the ground, his skull slightly depressed and blood flowing from his nose. "What the..." "Would you look at that? Looks like we're equal now." That voice! Looking up, she confirmed her suspicions. Jedidiah Manson in the flesh, a baseball bat in his hand. "What are you doing here?" "Final cleanup. Had a feeling he was going to pull something like this," he said casually. "Y-you boarded the ship separately after you said goodbye for this, didn't you? You saw him board after me?" "Uh-huh. I reckoned he'd stay low and go for who had what he wanted. I've been looking for him everywhere on this ship for the past three days, but when I couldn't find him, I decided to just watch over you, knowing he'd come when..." He was silenced by Miranda wrapping her arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his lips. "I thought... I..." "That we wouldn't meet again? I said I'd come to Spain. Guess I am fulfilling that promise now, aren't I?" She grinned brightly before kissing him again. "Yes. Yes you are." ***** The End! Finally! My first full book(?) on read cash done and dusted. My fingers are killing me, but it was worth it, from beginning to end! Huge thanks to all those who followed this every step of the way, no matter how long it took me to upload at times. Leave those Comments and Likes, I love to see 'em 🥺

Murdersdale 21 "Cornelius Finnegan? Never heard of him!" Someone hissed in the crowd. Jedidiah shook his head. "Of course you haven't heard of him. He was a nobody until he managed to acquire that wealth, and partly due to the method of acquiring the money, he decided to stay under the radar..." Miranda mused. "That was actually a good idea for him, and it was working up till now. He didn't know his niche, and got greedy this time, wanting something like the Eye of the Sky. How do you think he heard about it?" Jedidiah thought for a while, before shrugging. "A lot of talk happens on those ships. A lot of rumours flying, and a lot of crooks, criminals and the likes on board. He could have heard it anywhere. Like you said, it would have been better if he just stayed with his loot and off the radar. But he didn't know his niche, and he decided to go for this one." The lead district officer now stepped in. "This is interesting and all, but I'm eager to bring this investigation to an end. I guess we'll have to take the Sheriff in now, and then move to Carlisle Manor and finish off the job, don't we?" "That's right." The Sheriff stared into the the crowd as his hands were cuffed behind his back like the countless criminals he had arrested in his time. "Karma's a bxtch," he muttered under his breath, knowing that he had become the monster he sowre to fight from a young age, and that it was now his turn to get what he deserved. He then looked at the man, no, the people who had brought justice to him. "Finnegan is so much more than you can handle, it's not even funny." he sneered. "I won't be taking your word for it, seeing as we outsmarted you, checkmating you at every damn turn. You don't have a lot going for you, but at least be true to yourself and accept that this time, you were up against people way out of your league." He was being bundled off. "Not exactly humble, are you?" "It's a bit hard to be when you're in my shoes, especially considering all I went through at your hands. Like I said before, Miranda and I were too much for you and Finnegan. The game's up. He's cornered." "Knowledge isn't always Power. Know this. You're intelligent. You've got intellect. He's got Money. And so, he's got power. You're a dead man, Jedidiah. The both of you are as good as dead." "What was that about?" Miranda asked. "I'd rather we ignore the ramblings of a mad man, don't you think? We've all but rounded them all up now. On to Carlisle Manor. I want to set eyes on Finnegan and relish the look on his face," Jedidiah said, and the district officers could only laugh. Before they climbed into the carriage, they paused in front of Martha, Jane, Emma and Marcel. "Thanks. For everything," they echoed as hugs and handshakes went round. "You'll be back for a spot of tea when you're done, won't you?" Martha asked expectantly. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." ***** The plan was simple. There were seven district officers present. Two remained around the carriages, armed to the teeth and watching the men who had been arrested. Any sudden movements, and they were shooting. To kill. The Sheriff and the others understood this of course. The other five were going to raid the building, while Miranda and I were outside, armed and ready to handle whatever came out of the compound. Quickly they swooped in, first shouting outside for Finnegan to come down before forcing their way in and searching. It was theory minutes before they came out. Empty handed. "Huh?" Miranda asked shocked. "He's not here. The master bedroom upstairs is in a state of disarray, meaning that he must have hurriedly left as soon as he knew the jig was up. Probably shortly after you and the woman were paraded at the square. "He escaped? Damn it!" Miranda said angrily. "He's very cunning, I'll give him that. You both should watch your backs as you leave. We'll put a dead or alive bounty on his head and be on the lookout for him, but that's the most we can do, and you know..." "Yeah, with who we're working with here, that might just be short of enough. We'll be on our toes as well." As they entered into their carriage, they got a last glimpse of the Sheriff. "Now it's your turn to experience it, eh? The paranoia. Knowing that he could be anywhere, watching you. Waiting to strike. And kill. You'll spend the rest of your life, short as it might be, way hung your backs. Hah. Haha!" He said, breaking into a melancholic cackle. "You're going to the state penitentiary at this rate. If I were you, I'd be more worried about the size of my cellmate's tool," Miranda said, making us all laugh. The Sheriff's shivered. "On to Martha's?" "Sure. One way or the other, this case is somewhat closed. For the time being, however. Now, even we can take a small break." ***** Just one chapter left. Let the confetti loose! 🎊 This has been one long helluva journey, and I'm happy for the readers I gained and upvotes every step on the way. Like and Comment please!

Murdersdale 20 Sheriff stood transfixed to the spot, watching as the three-man gang were bustled out of the carriage. The leader, Randolph 'Scarecrow' Thomas in the middle. Johnny 'Shanks' Wilfred and Casper 'Fang' Eden by his right and left sides respectively. Three men that were not suppose to be at that location presently. They were supposed to be at Pembrokeshire, waiting until the whole investigation cooled down, the Detective and all his aides had been killed and the diadem had been recovered. They were now in handcuffs back in the town, the Detective was alive and apparently responsible for their tracing and arrest, and the diadem was nowhere to be found. When life comes at you fast, it also hits you hard. A second carriage soon rode in, and four district police officers came down, all armed. It was clear that they had come prepared for any possible scenario. The District Police officers were of a higher jurisdiction than him, and were licensed to take charge in this situation. He broke a sweat, and he knew it was appropriate in this situation. "What the hell is happening?!" A voice from the crowd shouted, and soon it all erupted into a cacophony of expressions of surprise and annoyed comments "What's happening is that you're about to hear the true story of what has been happening in this town as concerns the death of Lady Cynster," Miranda said as the District officers grabbed the keys and proceeds to uncuff Jedidiah and Miranda. "That is a criminal we're keeping in custodsyz do not..." The Sheriff began in a feeble attempt to stall the inevitable. His eyes darted around the square, perhaps looking for an accomplice who would rescue him. "Knowing the condition you're in, I'd say that the defence is completely useless, don't you agree? The jig is up, Sheriff. Now just be a good boy and play along." The words of the officer shut him up, and soon the three captured criminals took centre stage. The lead officer nodded towards Jedidiah, who then began his story. "When I first took charge of the investigation into this case, I had feeble leads, a lot of suspects - technically the whole town - and a lot of factors that would have handicapped me. But because I had reliable information and help from people like the maidservants 9fnthe late woman - Martha, Jane and Emma, Marcel and a few others who I will not mention, we were able to reach where we are now." The crowd was quiet be, everyone eager to hear him, to understand the scene that just unfolded before their eyes. He was already locked upx ready to be imprisoned and now he was free while the Sheriff looked like a fish out of water. "These are the men who killed Lady Cynster that fateful night. A meeting was scheduled at this very square that night, and they had followed the late woman because they wanted something from her. A Spanish diadem called 'The Eye of the Sky' which Lady Cynster's mother had brought into this country when they migrated here." The noise piped now. "It was clear to me from the moment I learned this that someone else was orchestrating this behind the scenes, because there was no way such small-time criminals would have any idea on the existence of this gem." People nodded, the noise dying down for a while. "That was made clear to me after the town Sheriff here made his first attempt to thwart my efforts in this investigation." The gasps of shock and disbeliefJedidiah had been expecting then came in. "Someone ransacked my room and stole a couple of things. Luckily for me, I'm quite a bit of a sprinter myself, and I was able to recover those items, and to my surprise, 5hey were items that pointed in the right direction as far as this investigation was concerned. I decided I was going to a library in the next town the next day to investigate the case of the diamonds, while the Sheriff was supposed to stay here and investigate the murder..." He cleared his throat. "...but I didn't know the Sheriff had hired assassins to take me out. Then I was saved by Miranda Hernandez here," he said, raising Miranda's arm as people got talking. "She's a private investigator for 5hwbroyak family in Spain, and she was here in searching of the diadem as well." It was now certain that Jedidiah was not lying. The Sheriff said nothing, keeping his eyes on the ground and shuffling his feet nervously. "When back, we met a spy who had followed the Sheriff into an inn on my request. A man named Bucky, who was among the men arrested at the Cynster mansion early this morning, was with the Sheriff as they planned to raid the mansion in search of the diadem, and to kill Marcel, as they believed they would have done away with me. Then the Sheriff went to Carlisle Manor to meet with someone there. That 'someone' is the man behind the scenes controlling the Sheriff and all the other small fry." "So who's this man you're speaking of?" A woman asked, hands akimbo. "First, after this debriefing, we boarded a carriage to go home, not knowing that it had been set as a trap to kill us. We managed to wriggle out of that one, and get our assassin on our side. Then, we made him convince the Sheriff and our unknown man thatwvebwerr dead while we hid at Cynster Mansion. There, we investigated and found the diamond and also took steps towards arresting Lady Cynster's killers. An added bonus was discovering the identuty of our mystery man at the Carlisle Manor..." The silence was palpable. Even the Sheriff was looking, listening intently. "Former small time port guard Cornelius Finnegan!" ***** I think I have about one or two episodes left, and I'll be done with this. Not that I haven't enjoyed the story, but everything has an end, and I'm all too happy to reach the end of this one. Remember to Like and Comment as usual.

Protagonitis [WP] "Sudden onset of spiky colorful hair can only mean one thing. Your child has... protagonitis. You have mere days to live. I am sorry." "Uh, did you mean THEY have mere days to live?" "No." * * * I promised John and Sally Winston that I'd one day tell the story to their son, John Junior. But this is more than a promise to them, it's an obligation towards myself and poor John. So that he would know that for inexplicable reasons in this strange, confusing world that we lived in, all that had happened to him to change his life in less than a week was part of an order. I still remember when it started. 12 years ago. When John Junior was eight. He was an only child, and whether it was by choice or fate, I would never know. It was just one of those questions a male neighbor like me didn't ask, no matter how close I'd gotten to them. We'd been neighbors for 14 years at the time. I was John's neighbor before he married Sally, and I was John Junior's godfather too. I'd watched him growing up, I had been his babysitter for a while, and he was even friends with my sons Finn and Adam. I know, I know, I digress, but this is all so you know the nature of the relationship I had with them, and what my reaction would have been during the onset of this development. Twleve years ago, I awoke to shouts of shock coming from the Winstons. I dashed over there as quickly as I could, barely putting on a robe and having nothing underneath it but my underwear. I didn't know what caused the shout, but seeing as there was no smoke emanating from the house, my fears were assuaged -at least a little. But as I ran upstairs and saw John and Sally inspecting John Junior, I suspected something was wrong with him. His hair, which was matted black normally, was now spiky and blue. No, it was actually blue with a purple tint, and very spiky. Much like some of the characters in the 'animes' my son's loved watching. I stared at his hair colour for a long time. It didn't look dyed, no, an eight year old wouldn't have had the coordination to do such a clean job. His hair was blue from its very roots. He wouldn't have had the money to do so either, so that was out of the cards. "Wh-what is this?" Sally asked. The question was rhetorical, because the answer was clear. John Junior's hair had gone from matted black to spiky blue in a night. It was imperative that they took him to a hospital. Not that it was the right place to go, as there wasn't exactly a place to go in this situation, but for want of a better option. I watched them put him in the backseat and drive off, John's face a look of confusion, and Sally's one of pure fear. ***** "Protagonitis." I blinked. John and Sally had come back,and while Junior was out in the yard playing catch with my sons and talking about his new hair, I was getting the details of what happened at the doctor's office. Sally was weeping profusely, signs that he wasn't just suffering a cold. My wife Aimee was dead. An aneurysm, five years ago. If she had been here, she might have known how to calm Aimee down. "Protagonitis. It's a rare condition. One in 500,000 kids are born with it." I grimaced. "How bad?" "For him? Well, physiologically, it has no effect. Psychologically, it will be damning. But we're not telling him that." "Why?" "The only one symptom of protagonitis is a sudden onset of colourful spiky hair. In fact, it can't rely be called a disease. It's more like a syndrome or condition. That's because the sudden onset of spiky hair is a symptom that always precedes one occurrence: the death of the sufferer's parents." I sat up. "What?" "Protagonitis. It's related to what happens to protagonists in most movies. The death of their parents shapes their lives in one way or the other." "That's...That's crazy. How is that even possible? It just kills the parents like that?" Sally was sobbing now, and John reached around to hold her tight. There were tears in his eyes. "It's all about fate. There are more than a thousand ways to die, and any of those ways will shape the life of our son. That's what this all is!" "How many years?" Sally's sobs became louder, and I had to reach out and rub her shoulder. "Hours or Days. It has never ever reached a week. Hours or Days after the color change, the lparents die. No matter how young or old the child is when his hair colour changes." It was clear that they had only a few days to spend with their child, and as much as that day was spent consoling them both and drinking, we knew we had to give Junior his best memories yet. Cinemas, Amusement Parks, Sleepovers. It was the time of his life. ***** John and Sally a death came four days later. Nobody ever prays for a friend to die, but at this point all we prayed for was natural causes. He'd slept over at my place. The couple had gone out for dinner. As much as this was about Johnny, they also had to make out time for themselves too. I overslept my alarm, and when I woke up by 9:00 AM and realized that John and Sally hadn't come to get their child, I knew that it had happened. I left John with the kids, asleep, and walked over to their house. Called them out, rang the bell severally without a response, and then opened the door. The lock had been tampered with. My heart raced as I kicked down the door and ran upstairs. I didn't hear the front door open, I didn't hear John race up the stairs, laughing and calling out his parents name. But I heard his scream as he came up to where I was and stared into the open doorway of his parents bedroom. At the blood and gore everywhere, and the sight of his father's back riddled with stab wounds as he protected his mother who was also dead. ***** Nowadays, I barely get to see John Junior anymore. He's 20; graduated from high school two years ago. He was the valedictorian, and I was proud of him. We both cried a little. John and Sally would have been proud. He says he's going to college in the next town. He's supposed to be in his sophomore year. But I know that's a lie. There's a new vigilante on the streets these days. Beating up gang members to pull, cleaning up the streets and painting them red with the blood of the bad guys. The city loves him. The Police are on the hunt for him. I know him. He still stays at the house across mine, coming back ever so often with a cut on one cheek or a broken rib. I wonder how many times he 'falls down the stairs' to cause those injuries. I promised John and Sally I'd tell him the truth, and now I have. ***** Second Time's the Charm? My second attempt on a prompt. Remember to Like and Comment 🤲🏾

Murdersdale 19 Jedidiah knew that there were a lot of ways the Sheriff cwoukd react to his sudden appearance. Shock, Guilt, a possible fainting - anything could have happened. But an arrest? He certainly did not see that coming. They were all over him and Miranda in mere seconds, getting their hands in handcuffs swiftly. Jedidiah did not resist anyway, smiling towards Miranda and calming her. She was hearing to cause a scene. "Sheriff, you look like you've seen a ghost," Jedidiah said, turning back to the Sheriff's. He could only guess what was going through the man's mind. Did he know that their game was up? Probably. It had probably dawned on him already. "You attacked and shot these men from your hideout!" The Sheriff said as a crowd began to gather. Obviously to incnense the anger of townspeople against them. "I shot too!" Marcel shouted. "You might as well arrest me while you're at it." The Sheriff only thought about it for a second before bidding, signalling the arrest of Marcel. They would be done with in one swift move. As the people began to murmur and curse, Martha. And the maids ran out. "Why are the thrives not being handcuffed?!" "Thieves?" Asked the crowd, the murmuring increasing with a change in tone. The Sheriff had forgotten all about these ones. They would tell the people of the real story. But he couldn't silence them, that would be suspicious. The situation had spiralled out of control, and he realized that there was not time for finesse. All loose ends had to be taken care of. "These men came here at this ungodly hour to steal. To s9teal, to rob, and to possibly kill - or carry out any of the other vile fantasies they had stored upstairs..." Jedidiah smiled. The Sheriff frowned. "...but the Detective, Jedidiah and the lady Miranda who have been working on the case anticipated this situation and did well to come and help me, saving me in the process." "But how did they know?" Said the Sheriff. "Do you have any idea who these people you've been frolicking with all this while?" "That's rich coming from you, Sheriff!" Jane said contemptuously. An uproar began in the crowd. "You might as well arrest the thieves then, Sheriff! Whose side are you on anyway? Free the Detective then!" He knew he had to arrest Bucky and his men. Nothing had gone according to plan, but none of them were dead. Lucky him. They would have to be settled handsomely later on, but for now they could be arrested. He nodded towards his officers, and they went about the painstaking job of lifting the men, handcuffing them and taking them to the carriages. "The Detective is still under arrest for the Illegal Possession of a Firearm and Attempted murder. We'll handle that in the county court, and that's that!" He said as they dragged Jedidha off. Right before the carriage door was closed, he looked at all three and smiled. "Your end is imminent, no matter how smart and brave your efforts here were." Jedidiah only smiled cryptically again. "You and your employer are done for." ***** 8:23 AM The townspeople were gathered in the square, all facing the three men handcuffef on a platform. "You have heard their charges, and now they'll be defending themselves in the court of law!" "For defending those poor maids against a suspicious midnight attack, judging by the fact that the Detective predicted it. Who is after that family, and why?!" A voice asked. "We'll judge that for ourselves, as we are more than competent and capable enough to do the job. If you'll excuse me, I'll need to submit this case at..." "STOP!" A carriage just burst into the scene, and it's driver was screaming at the top of its lungs for the parading of Jediah and his people to stop. Everybody stated still, and the Sheriff spat and weakted. Who the hell were these new chess pieces? Jedidiah stayed whiter until the door of the carriage and he saw the occupants. He smiled as Angelo stepped down. "Ladies and gentlemen, I believe the Sheriff has a confession to make, and that the case of Lady Cynster's death is almost fully settled!" The Sheriff suddenly felt uneasy and apprehensive. Is this man the reason behind Jedidha being unfazed by his imminent demise. "And to confirm my story.." Angelo paused, smiling for dramatic effect. "...I bring in Scarface Thomas and the gang to say exactly what happened and how it did." The three men clumsily came down from the carriage, causibg a massive uproar. The Sheriff knew the jig was up. ***** This was finished with a pair of sleepy eyes so please bear with the typos ❤️😭 Remember to like and comment, thanks 👌🏾

Murdersdale 18 12:55 AM. It was barely a few minutes to the agreed time. Of course the criminals could come earlier or later than that, but if that was the time they were working with, then that was it. Jedidiah moved up and down, making sure that everyone was in position, before walking up to Miranda at the door. "How are you holding up?" She smirked, placing her hand on his. It wasn't shaking at all. "You should know better than to fuss over me." "Well, I've only known you for three days, so I wouldn't say I know you that we'll, at least not by my standards," he smiled. She shrugged a little, before sighing. "I do know how to keep up a hard exterior anyway, so that's true. I'm anxious, Jed..." He smirked. Nicknames already? "Oh I'm not saying Jedidiah all the time. And yeah, I'm a mess right now. We're about to enter an abyss, no matter how you look at it. Only God knows how things turn out from here." Jedidiah nodded sagely. She was right. Another quality of hers that he admired. She wasn't afraid to confront a situation, but she wasn't also ashamed of her fears. "That's what makes us human, Mira..." He didn't miss her smile. "Try to stay frosty, everything's not testing on your shoulders. We won't let anything happen to you." Marcel smiled as he walked up to the foot, opening it and peering outside. "They're coming. The wind is carrying the sounds of their footsteps." "Then you guys get into position. Everybody watches each others' backs!" Miranda said, cocking her pistol. The effortless, buttery smooth switch between damsel in distress to commando. Jedidiah chuckled as he cocked husband went out. There was a bush opposite the front door of Lady Cynster's mansion. They hid behind it, making a space in the leaves to put their guns and lanterns through. The lanterns were off, at least for the meantime. There was a clear shit, and he knew when he'd take it. Martha and the other three slaves occupied the rooms with big windows. Martha at the West wing, Emma at the South Wing and Jane at the East Wing. Miranda was crouched behind a wall of pillows which was also being a hard wood table . The table was facing the door, and Miranda was armed. Soon enough, the invaders came into view, and they all stood in front of the house, close to the bush in which Jedidiah and Marcel hid. "So we're going about it as planned. Two to the right, two to the left, the remaining two enter through the front with me." It was clear that the speaker was the leader, probably the Bucky fellow. They began to move. Jedidiah smiled. It would be over soon, if their cards were played right. As soon as they split and set off, he knew that the signal would be Miranda's gunshot. She was a good shot, and she had a clear chance at makeing a hit. They were aiming for the legs. Soon, the men broke into the house, and it was only a few seconds before the first shot rang out. There was a loud groan, followed by two other shots. That was the signal, and then thuds from the sides of the mansion, follows by other groans. When he heard this, he'd known exactly what those were. The maids at the window had metal pails filled with stones, and they dropped them on the heads of the men scaling the walls as soon as the y heard the gunshots. Marcel and Jedidiah waited patiently. The leader, Bucky was the only one to limp out if the front door, and Marcel shot him in the right shoulder and leg and knee as soon as he came into view. He shrieked and dropped the the ground. As soon as the three other unhurt criminals ran from the sides of the building, Marcel and Jedidiah gunned them down, making sure to avoid their vital spots. They then ran up to all those outside, guns ready in case of any surprises, and cauterised their wounds with the light from the lanterns and sticks before tying them all up. Soon, the Sheriff was at the home. "These men were trying to break in, and we did away with them!" Martha spoke. But he wasn't looking at her. His eyes were fixed on Jedidiah and Miranda who have him ominous stares. "The two of you are under arrest for unlawful possession of a firearm and attempted murder!" He said angrily as the other officers descended on them. ***** Big things coming in the next few episodes, as I bring this to an end. Whew, it's been a long one. Remember to Like and Comment!

Dirty Business [WP] "The weirdest dream" you mutter to yourself as you wake up cold and sore on a metal table surrounded by college students who are STUNNED to see you awake. Writing Prompt. ***** "Sh*t. The weirdest dream..." I muttered as I made to stand up. Their screams froze me in place, my upper body barely three inches above the metal table, and I fell back, groaning immediately. My back was sore and stiff, and my muscles were pretty much dead to me. Many of the students, male and female alike, ran away from the room. There were only about five students left, and then what looked to be an attendant in a... It wasn't a dream. "Argh...f**k I can't move. Where the hell am I?" I asked. They continued to look at me, mouths wide open. The attendant looked like he didn't know how he was supposed to handle the situation. Grabbing his phone with shaky hands, he called 911. "Nine-f**king-one-one, eh?" I asked, unable to make any sharp movements. It was a bit cold in the room, and I struggled to place my hand on my crotch. Sure, I was naked. "Was I dead or something?" The students still stared at me, eyes wide open. One managed a nod. "Well, that's a surprise. It wasn't a dream, huh? How long have I been dead?" I asked, the question directed to the attendant. "Th-three weeks." Muscular atrophy certainly didn't take any time to set in. My muscles were weak, and I could feel how lean they'd become. Three weeks. That was a long time to be away from the world. "And I ended up in... What is this? A human anatomy dissection class?' "Y-yeah," the attendant said. He then understood when I was going with that question. "Your parents donated your body to the College of Medicine." Sounded pretty much like them. Philanthropists and Nice Guys in the eyes of society. "Bullsh*t," I swore, turning my head to the right to properly assess the students on my right. It wouldn't do any good to demoralize them any further, so I kept my thoughts to myself. The idiots can't even handle this. Running up and down, are they even cut out to be Doctors? I restrained myself and said, "Now you know I'm not dead, can you kindly cover me up? It's cold as Antarctica in here." Someone threw a cloth over my body, and I was content to manage that for the meantime as I brooded. ***** Three weeks. I'd been dead for three weeks. I could still remember when the man had approached me. "Anton confirmed you as collateral for his last 'losn'. And he failed to pay up, so we'll be taking our collateral - that's you - in a week from now. That's Monday, April the 23rd, 2014, 10:12:01 AM on the dot." "Is this Anton's idea of a joke?" I said, just having disembarked a train. "If it is, then it's pretty whack. Get out of my face," I said, brushing past him. Suddenly he was right by my side, walking right along with me. "When you were both 15, you had a blood covenant that you owed each other a favor. A 'serious' factor, as you called it. Blood is the greatest sacred contract. Anton made a deal with my employer..." "And who the hell is your employer?" I stopped, glaring at him. He smirked a little. "Lucifer. Satan. The ruler of the nether realm is called Hell. The bad guy, the devil, Shaitan, whatever you call him..." "Well, you, Anton, and Shaitan can go screw yourselves." Anton and I weren't friends anymore. Not after I caught him pants down with my girlfriend in our second year of college. Four years after we made the stupid 'blood oath' as he'd called it. He didn't follow me after they, and I almost forgot about it. I did. Until Saturday, when he knocked on my door. I opened subconsciously, before realizing my mistake and grabbing the baseball bat by the side of the door as I saw who he was. "What the hell are you doing here?" "Reminding you that your soul shall be required of you tomorrow," he said with a stiff face. "Anton has cashed in his favor, and as a result, you'll be dragged to hell instead." "And I didn't need to be notified to contest my collateral status?" "I don't make the rules. And hell will never reject another addition to our 'guests'. Good day." And with that, he disappeared. Maybe I didn't take it seriously, maybe I forgot. I only set an alarm for the But I'd never forget when I was in town, coming back from a botched job interview when I was hit by a car that lost control on the road. As I coughed up blood, unable to move, I glanced at my watch... 10:11:59 "Sh*t!' I thought as all went dark. I spent what was three hours in hell debating while I shouldn't be there, and why my collateral status was to be revoked since I wasn't notified. In the end, intervention from heaven won out, and I was free. But so was Anton, since someone had gone to hell - which was among the conditions of whatever deal he made with the devil. But three hours there were three weeks in the human world. ***** "When do you think 911 will be done with me?" I asked, turning to the attendant. "I need to god*k someone up." ***** This is my first time going at a random Reddit prompt. I wanted to flex my hands on this while I prepared some new Murdersdale. I'm sorry for not updating for a while, but school has been hell for this past week.

Murdersdale 17 Morning had reached. They had barely 17 hours to get ready for whatever 'Bucky' and his goons had in store for them. The fact that the maids knew a thing or two about protecting themselves was a bonus, but it wasn't enough to ensure victory. That was up until the messenger, Angelo, stopped by. Smiling at Martha who opened the door, he was ushered into the sitting room as Martha ran up to call Jedidiah and Miranda. "Oh, you're here? That was fast," Jedidiah smiled. Angelo just nodded, handing him a letter. It was obvious he wasn't a man of many words. "It helped that he was wanted in seven different counties in this area, including Pembrokeshire. His arrest will be silent, but in broad day light. This afternoon. We won't give them a chance to rethink or change strategies," Angelo said. 'This whole diamond business is done, now it's the murder that needs to be settled. You got my letter about the man in the manor, so what did you think? Any ideas?" Angelo brought out a big envelope. "I had to do a little sleuthing for myself concerning that, and I'll say that the fellow is a sneaky bastard. House was bought anonymously, which means even my best contacts could only get redacted documentation. You'd have to be damn close to any of the higher ups in that government office to get any information..." For the first time, a smile crept on Angelo's lips. "I trust you man, there's no way you'd have left there empty handed." "Nope. I went to the past owner for a clue on who bought the house, but instead I told him I was a government official looking for details on most old manors and estates in the area. Official duties and all that. Luckily, he kept an invoice of all that came to find the house, and the last person was one well known lawyer..." "John Maguire esq?" Jedidiah asked. It was a well known name in these parts. "Yes, that's the one." Jedidiah looked up skeptically. "The Maguire I know is a shrewd, stuck-up fellow with a nasty character. He's only as clean as his clientele, and personally I'm happy none of my cased have ever led to him. How did you get that information?" Angelo's smile became very conspiratorial. "In a strange turn of events, part of his office was razed in a fire, and some of his documents were lost. Most were burned, but maybe some were recovered by a detective who happened to be passing by..." he said, whipping out a folded sheet of paper. "Angelo, you didn't?" "No, for Christ's sake! Well, I didn't burn down the place -someone left a lamp on. But I was going to break in there anyway so that's that." They all laughed at this point. Jedidiah grabbed the paper and opened it. "Cornelius... Cornelius Finnegan?!" Angelo raised his eyebrow. "The name means something to you?" "Huh, yeah. There was the case of an illegal arms deal I was on. Someone was selling tons of gunpowder and weapons to the some anarchists in London, and I was supposed to bust the operation that day. I don't know how it happened, but neither party is aware of what happened to that hoard. It was there for two days, and at some time it was replaced with tons of rice and wheat and other foodstuff..." "What does that have to do with Cornelius?" "He was one of the port guards on duty those two days, and they say he loaded a few ships, including one that wasn't familiar at that port. Coincidentally, he also disappeared with the arms shipment." "What a suspicious coincidence," Martha murmured. "So he took it all for himself, made some money and came back as a wealthy man, acquiring expensive property and all that?" Angelo reasoned. "And still neck deep in crime. He's the perfect specimen." Angelo stood. "Well, that's the information I have, and I'd like to think that it's been of great help in this investigation. I'll be on my way now to Pembrokeshire, I have to supervise the arrest and make sure everything goes as planned. We'll have them back here by tomorrow, ready to testify against the Sheriff and all his cohorts." Then he handed Jedidiah a briefcase. "You will be needing that for the mission you have later tonight. "Thanks a lot Angelo," Jedidiah said, shaking his hand. When the man left, Jedidi ah opened the briefcase and smiled. "There are three guns here, so Martha, which one you guys had any experience shooting?' ***** The Sheriff watched the boy shut the door, and had to hold back the string of swear words he wanted to utter. Walking back to the carriage, he entered it and instructed the chauffeur to go to Carlisle Manor. For the last two days, Marcel hadn't been at his home. The boy there said he had traveled, and while the Sheriff knew that it was possible, since he was much of a loner, a strange thought that something was wrong kept nagging at the back of his mind. Of course there was no way he was going to tell the Boss this, not now. They could get the diadem first. Anything else would be cleaned up after. ***** This one was extra long because I needed to finish the build-up quickly. I promise there'll be some action in the next part, which I'll upload tomorrow hopefully. Like and Comment ❤️

Murdersdale 16 The job of finding the porcelain doll in the attic wouldn't have been a small one ordinarily - the attic was large, packed full and dusty, with cobwebs everywhere. But the maids knew a simple way of turning wardrobes, desks and clutter here and there until a path to the doll was made. "There's no way you guys know about this path coincidentally." Martha laugged. "Of course that's impossible. Lady Cynster showed it to us herself as a means of navigating this place. There are actually three of these oaths, and they all lead to the centre of the room where the doll is funny enough." They reached, and sure, it was there. Grabbing it, Miranda smiled. "This is pretty much basic. We had one of these there." She screwed out the head and sure enough, there was a combination lock. Turning the dial to 1-4-4-1, she heard the mechanism within click and pop out. Pulling it out, she looked into the space and smiled, reaching in and pulling out the diadem. It was big, roughly the size of a cow's heart. It shine brightly from reflecting the light of the lanterns in the room, and it was definitely a beauty. "Wow," Jedidiah muttered, obviously in awe. "That's an understatement, but I'll take it," she grinned,.putting the diadem back in and fixing the combination lock. After screwing the head of the doll back on, she looked at everyone again. "This part is done, now what?" Marcel smiled. "Now comes the action part. We need to be setup adequately to handle these guys. And we'll need all hands on deck." Miranda nodded. "There's a ship off to Spain in the next four days. I'll have to board it and hand this over as soon as I can, if it's okay with you guys?" She asked hopefully, glancing at the maids. "Surely. We're doing well here already, thanks to Lady Cynster. And this has always been her dream, as Marcel mentioned.* Which brought us back to the topic of Marcel. Jedidiah looked at him questioningly. "I might go after all. There's nothing left for me here, no offence Martha..." Martha just nodded at that. "...but Lady Cynster was my reason for being here. Now that she's gone, I guess it's time to go back to my roots." "Then that settles that." Jedidiah tried to stomp away the feeling of loss, the reality that Miranda would be leaving eventually. She stepped up to him and whispered into his ear. "Will you miss me?" He smiled ruefully. "You already know the answer to that." "I can see it in your face, but it would be nice to hear." "I haven't known you more than a day," he said, yawning. "But I will. A lot." Then he noticed they weren't alone in the room and blushed. Miranda just giggled with the rest of the girls and Marcel gave a smirk. "Y'all have to sleep already. Today has been one helluva day for you both, so just rest. We have the whole of tomorrow to draft any and all plans, okay?" Jedidiah would have loved to be the stronger, hardworking leader who would object to this and proceed to finish it all that night, but another yawn told him.he was only doing a botched job of deceiving himself. "Alright." ***** The Sheriff sat at the man's table, eating the food before him with gusto and smiling for the first time. The man also seemed quite relieved - there was no way to verify for sure because the bastard maintained a deadpan look no matter his mood. The sheriff couldn't care any less. "We'll be hitting the house tomorrow, or technically in the early hours of the day after tomorrow. Hold them by hostage, ask questions, ransack the place. Someone will know something, and we'll get the diadem back to you by sunrise." The man just nodded. "The fact that you were unable to eliminate those two gives me a little hope. Maybe you'll last longer than your predecessors after all. If that's the case, then we'll get along just fine." He raised a toast - to the diamond and the wealth they would get from it, and after clinking glasses, they drank. They had no idea how far they were from the truth. ***** I have a feeling ill be done with this in less than six chapters. And although I hunk it's just a bit rushed, I think my plot and storyline are still holding. How is it? Leave reviews and likes, thanks ❤️

Murdersdale 15 Marcel was back in the presence of the man he didn't want to see, not after the whole fiasco a few days earlier. But there wasn't anything else he could do, especially since Martha herself had to come and call him. Emma was also back from her post office deposit, which had gone as planned without issues. Like Jedidiah told her, Angelo was there, and he understood perfectly. As soon as Miranda saw Marcel, she stood. As did he. "You're a Hernandez, aren't you? I can see it in your face!" Marcel spoke is a sudden outburst. "Have you come to kill us, or force us back to Spain?!" Miranda looked visibly insulted, but she managed to swallow it. "You must have been monitoring the current situation in Spain to the best of your ability without being caught, so you're not up to date. We've long since reached an agreement. I don't even operate with the Hernandez family anymore, I work for the Royal Family as a Private Detective. Returning to Spain is a decision left for you and Lady Cynster, who is now late, but we'd like it very much if you did. It would be a sign to the people that those awful days are behind us." "Oh..." Marcel said, feeling embarassed. "Sorry, my bad. That means you're here for the diadem?" "Yes. I'm looking for it now. That's one thing we have to return. I hope you'll cooperate?" "Lady Cynster would have loved for it to return, no matter the regime. She was making plans for that before she was murdered, and I hear it's by Scarecrow Thomas, hm? Terrible! I wish I could get my hands on..." Jedidiah had to butt in. "How are you related?" "Four people left Spain that year. Lady Cynster's Mother and Father, and Her Aunt and Uncle. I'm the Grandson of that aunt. My real name is Marcello, but I had to change it to blend in." Interesting. "Well, we're here to solve the puzzle, find the diadem, and protect this house. I hope that you'll be of use in the three." "Surely. Martha told me a little about what was happening here..." Jedidiah noted that Marcello's acting skill was very amazing. This was a completely different person from the rustic old man who he was talking to when the body was discovered. Shaved beard, haircut and now he couldn't even recognize him. A true changeling. "Yes, the Sheriff and someone else is behind this. We're dying to know who, and how, but those two are subject to actually nabbing a few suspects, which we plan to do soon." "And the rhyme? You really think it's necessary?" "Completely." "Red and White is first. Jane, what was your line?" "Heaven kissed the earth." "Just that?" "Yes." Jedidiah thought about it for a while and then turned to the paintings. His eyes fell on one. "**Horizon**," Miranda said, beaming. "Yes. The place where the sky seems to meet land." There was a painting of that, and they got it down and removed the frame. There was a number on the back of the canvas." **1** "Green and Black is the next. Marcel?" "The tool of the persecuted." There was a painting of a crucifix, but when they took it down, there was nothing there. "If this isn't it..." Martha brought another painting down. "A **cauldron**." "Cauldron?" "Lady Cynster practised some forms of white magic and 'natural' healing methods. But witches, and all magicians were greatly persecuted in Spain at the time she grew up in Spain." Miranda nodded. The number behind that painting was **4**. "Emma?" "passage to the hereafter," Emma said. "A **hearse**," Miranda said, as her eyes fell on the painting. Behind it was the number **4**. "Martha, last but not the least?" "My favourite flower." "Huh?" There were several paintings of flowers there. And they could search through all of them, but how long would that take, and how many frames would have to be destoyed? "I could have sworn it was the Lily," Jane said as they pulled her another blank. They kept searching until Martha suddenly stood still. "I know what the last number is. It's **1**." "How do you know it is?" Jedidiah asked. Martha blushed. "When I first came here, we went skinny dipping one day and she noticed a birthmark on my left breast. I didn't like it, but she said it was shaped like the Number 1. She said it would be her mark for me. He number 1. So she called me her favourite flower..." "**Lirio**," Jane, Emma and Marcel echoed. "Meaning **Lily**." So the numbers were **1441**. "1441?" "The year the Hernandez family and the Royal family first formed a pact. Not a date most would look to, especially since most know it as 1443. But true historians know it's 1441, because that's when the Crown Prince and Emilia Hernandez fell in love and began courting," Marcel clarified while Miranda nodded. "If this is a code, then what's it opening?" "A porcelain doll in the attick. Colored with splashes of red, white, blue, ash, orange, yellow, green and black. How cliché." Jedidiah smiled. Lady Cynster hid the key in plain sight. ***** This was interesting, a bit difficult to think through, but interesting nonetheless. What do you think?

Murdersdale 14 Jedidiah looked around the table to see if he could get support from any of those at the table, but that was an exercise in futility. Martha was white as a sheet, standing up and looking at him; Emma and Jane had both shifted their chairs backward and were staring at him. Even Miranda lifted an eyebrow, clearly surprised at his deduction and wanting to know the reason behind it. A part of him didn't want to be so petty, but he had pieced together this part of the puzzle on his own, that had to restore some of his dignity in her eyes. "Please calm down and take your seat - and lower your voice too. We don't want any unwanted visits happening too early, do we?" He said to Martha. "No." "Good." She sat down, composed herself and straightened out her gown. "So?" "It was the paintings." Everyone turned and looked at them. Miranda looked between the paintings and the girls before her eyes lit up. "Ah! I see. But how does that..." "What happened to the paintings?" Emma asked. "Well, I noticed that they were weird - that is, the style in which they were made, and that color scheme. The exact same order, the exact same colours. I had a feeling there was a four-key puzzle here. When I noticed you were all wearing the same colour of clothes - and you confirmed that it was on the request of Lady Cynster - I knew that it was." Miranda smiled. "Smart devil." The girls looked amongst themselves incredulously. They had not noticed or had any idea on the correlation of the paintings and the clothes they wore. "You said four part key?" Jane finally spoke. "Who's the fourth person?" "It's Marcel, isn't it?" Martha said, and it was Jedidiah's turn to be surprised. "And how did you know that?" "I don't know. Intuition. Maybe it fills in a lot of gaps and explains a lot of things like why she was out with him the night she was murdered..." She suddenly looked back to Jedidiah. "I haven't heard you say a word about the murder here since. Isn't it no longer the priority in this..." "I assure you it is," Miranda said, stepping in. "We have our culprit, we know where Scarecrow Thomas and his gang are hiding out, but the issue is the Sheriff and the unknown sponsor pulling strings in the background. That's why we're here, because if we can find that diamond within the next day, then we can wrap up this case by 1 AM and have all the bad guys Imin cuffs, including who's hiding at the manor." Martha seemed to calm down at hearing that. "What about Marcel?" "That's where we need to swing into action. And fast. We need to reach out to him and get him here, now. Once he's here, we can solve the puzzle faster. And then I can monitor you all and keep you safe at once." All three maids nodded. "So Martha, I'll need you to go over to Marcel's place and call him. Be as discreet as you possibly can - cloak, hat and veil if you will. Emma," Jedidiah said, before bringing out the letter he had already written. "Go drop this at the post office. Ask for Angelo, and tell him it's an express delivery." He gave her a 50-dollar bill to facilitate the sending. "Angelo?" "One of the few people I can trust here. Confidential. Almost a part of the police force, I reckon." They both left after a while, leaving Miranda, Jane and Jedidiah. "What next?' Jedidiah smiled, looking around. "We prepare for an invasion, that's what. The gang that'll be coming here, Lord knows how many they'll be and what they'll be armed with. Right now, I don't know how strong and able you ladies will be, but Miranda is very proficient in hand-to-hand combat and wmuse of weapons, that I have verified for myself. They both shared knowing grins before Miranda broke into a giggle. "Well, my 'sisters' and I aren't too sloppy ourselves. Do you think this house was never robbed in all this while? She trained us in fencing and basic defence combat moves. Well not exactly be wrestling champions, but we'll count." Miranda smiled. "Alright then, let's make them pay!" ***** I decided to keep this one short since I was tired. I'm sorry I didn't put any action to it, so I guess it's just plot filler (ik, ik, everyone hates fillers) to build up to the action. Enjoy! Ghostwriter 👻 signing out from this school that's making attempts at my life ✌️🏳️

Murdersdale 13 Gregory agreed to help them for the sake of his safety. If he could get such a clean deal on the good side of the law, then he was certainly going to take it. Riding the carriage back to the Sheriff's house, he parked and rang for the man. "Status?" The sheriff asked, coming out. "See it for yourself," he said, tossing Jedidiah's jacket and a fragment of his clothing to the Sheriff. They were both bloody. "Bodies?" "At the bottom of the ravine, where they'll never be found." The Sheriff smiled. "Greg, you've done well. I'm happy about that. Keep this up and I'll forget you ever robbed that jeweller." Greg kept the act up, his eyes widening in mock happiness. "Really?" The Sheriff laughed mockingly. "Sure. Just keep being, eh... Available, when I have such business to take care of. Go now, dispose of the rags." Smiling to himself, Greg left. *You just played into their hands, old fool.* ***** It was 8:00 PM. Martha opened the door to see a face she wasn't hoping to see soon. The Detective. She stood at the doorway, unwilling to accept that he might want to enter. By his side was a beautiful lady in some starbge clothing. She appeared to be wearing a gown, but most of her chest was covered by a thick wooly shawl. "What can I do you for today, Detective?" "Well, in the long run, I'll be doing more for you than you can imagine, but for now I need your help. I'm in need of a place for a while, perhaps one week from the way I see things." Martha wanted to reject this development instantly, but she was curious about the sudden occurrence. "By 'in need', you certainly couldn't possibly be saying that my not helping you might affect my fate in this case of yours, could you?" Miranda shot Jedidiah a look as though to say, "You're that much of a monster?!" Jedidiah was on the defense immediately. "No, no! This has nothing to do with your involvement in the case, and that's not even much at all. You're not going to be incriminated in any way, and actually I could probably use your help in solving this case, or at least my..." Miranda jumped in to save him from saying too much. "...partner. I'm his partner, working on he same investigation more or less. You could be of some assistance though." Martha looked between two of them, frowning before stating quietly. "I'll be going inside now. When you both are ready to tell me exactly what's going on, you can knock and I'll..." "Fine!" Jedidiah said exasperatedly. "I'm here because the Sheriff thinks I'm dead." Martha shot him an incredulous look. "And why would he think that?" "Because he wants us both dead. He's tried to kill us twice today." The maid looked between the duo and sighed. "You've got my attention. Come on in, 30 minutes, a full debriefing on **everything** concerning this case, and then I'll see if I'll accommodate you lot. Deal?" Jedidiah frowned slightly. "You drive a difficult bargain." Miranda nudged him in the side before turning to smile warmly at Martha. "We'll take it." ***** At the end of the explanation, there were five people at the table. Jedidiah hadn't seen all the maidservants since the day the body was found. "You've both been to hell and back, haven't you? You're saying they'll be back here in two days, at 1 AM? Why?" Miranda broke in. "Because, just like me, they believe that the diadem is right here, in this very house. And I even think that all three of you might know where it is..." "Are you implying that we're hiding something from you?!" Martha flared up, the other two - Emma and Jane - echoing this sentiment. "Not at all. Miranda's saying that there's a good chance you all might have unknowingly been given the woman a piece of the puzzle," Jedidiah chipped in. "The puzzle being?" "The location of the diadem." Miranda finished. Jedidiah looked around the room. There were paintings all over the room. Human portraits and then some landscape paintings. All had a certain Color scheme. The canvas on each painting was divided into four quarters, and each quarter had a certain colour scheme. Red and white. Green and black. Blue and ash. Yellow and orange. It was a strange blend of bright and full colours that produced a pleasing aesthetic effect. "Do you like the paintings?" Martha asked, noticing his keen observation. "Yes, you could say that. Lady Cynster painted them herself, didn't she?" "Yes, how did you know?" "Just a hunch..." He noticed Miranda was looking at him inquisitebly now, but he had his sights set on something else that was bothering him. "The clothes you three are wearing, did she also give you them?" They looked at him strangely. "Emma's a seamstress, so she helped us see them. But the material and the colours were..." "Her idea, yeah?" Now Martha was uncomfortable. "H-How do you know this? What are you driving at?" "You all must have been so attached to her for you to maintain those colours till now. I'll assume the relationship between you was close." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. "Yes. We all came into this place about fifteen years ago. We were young, I was seven at the time actually. Lady Cynster's mother had died five years before then, when she was 60, so it wasn't nice that she should be alone..m" "Mother?" Miranda asked. "Yeah. She was a Spaniard, or at least she had the accent, according to my mother. Lady Cynster became very close to us from then, since we grew up in this household. Why all these specific questions?" It was coming together. An older woman - a Spaniard who lived here too had died. She was the victim's mother. The victim had gotten three girls to stay with her...three girls. Martha wore a yellow and orange gown. Emma wore a blue and ash gown. Jane wore a red and white gown. It remained green and black. Where had he... BINGO. He turned back to Martha. "I'm going to ask all of you a very strange question now, but I'll need a honest answer. Was there any lullaby or rhyme that Lady Cynster told you? Perhaps she told each of you a different line? Probably said it was from her..." "Mother?" Miranda and the other three servants echoed. "Yes." Martha stood up, pale as a white sheet. "Y-You're insane. How the hell did you know that?!" ***** I hope this one was extra long to count for my absence. I'm bringing the story to an end steadily now. Xoxo, Ghostwriter 👻 from this hellhole of a school.

Murdersdale 12 Jedidiah was scared still, unable to move for a moment. He cursed himself for allowing his skills to dull a bit; he was supposed to be sharper than this. How come he had lost concentration and awareness of the situation around him? "Who do you work for?" He dared to ask. "That's a stupid question to be asking when you'll be dead in the next ten minutes, don't you think? Heh, I'm beginning to think you're not even worth the hype. Here I was thinking I was up against a genius of sorts," the man said with a smug look. Jedidiah would have loved to wipe that grin off his face with a sucker punch to the abdomen, but he was well aware of his condition and the overwhelming handicap he'd gotten himself in. He gripped Miranda's thigh firmly - was that just for his own satisfaction or to assure her that things were under control? Neither seemed meaningful at the time, so he just shrugged it off and laughed. There was no other way he could react at the moment, so he just smiled and looked at the man. "We'll see about that." "Get down!" The man shouted. "No." All eyes turned to Miranda - actually, just Jedidiah and their abductor did. Her statement was shocking, and a defeaning silence followed for a while. "What the hell did you just say, Miss?" The abductor bellowed angrily. "I wasn't mincing words. No, I'm not getting down from this carriage. If you want to kill us, you might as well do it here and now..." The man was taken aback. "...unless you're scared," she said, scoffing and laughing with a mocking tone. Jedidiah wasn't in support of her approach towards the problem at hand - he didn't want to get shot right there and also thought they had a better chance of living if they weren't shot in the goddamn carriage. But she'd saved his life before, so he decided her to give her another chance. The man stuttered. "O-Of course I can shoot and k-kill you both now. G-Get... Get down now!" Jedidiah interjected. "That stutter isn't convincing. Tell me, sport. Are you afraid that someone will hear the loud gunshot and come for you? Will see what's going on here? So you'll be arrested and hanged?" He gave a weak smile. "I cannot be arrested..." The moment the words left his lips he realized that he'd made a huge mistake. "Er, forget..." "That was sloppy," Miranda said, a smug look on her face. "Very sloppy. You sounded so confident there. Perhaps because you have some connections amongst the elites of this town? Or maybe..." She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "the Sheriff?" The man visibly jumped back. He didn't see that she was exaggerating her actions. He didn't notice that the tide had changed and now he was on the hot seat. He didn't notice that he had given Miranda enough time to reach for her gun, and that Jedidiah was leaning back to give her a good view. "That's not it! The Sheriff didn't send me to get you and kill you out here is..." "Nobody said he did, sport. You just said that now," Jedidiah said, getting down from the carriage already. "Thanks for helping us with this part of the puzzle. We couldn't have done it without you." He snarled. "Of what use is it? I'll kill y'all right here and nothing will be done. The case will be gone. Got it? Gone!" "Is this your first time doing this?" Miranda asked, still sitting in the carriage. "N-No." It obviously was. "Then why are you sweating? Why the stammering? Why are your hands shaking? You say you want to shoot, but you really don't look like you're sure, eh..." "Greg!" He said before realising that he'd made a mistake. "Ah, Gregory," Jedidiah said, looking at him. "You do realize you don't have to do this? You can just go, run away from here, and we'll go our merry way." He seemed to be considering the idea, but he was still very much afraid. The Sheriff must have instilled a lot of fear in him. From one man on a hot seat to another, eh? "You owe him a favor, don't you? He's not paying for this?" "No." It was more comfortable for Greg when he referred to the Sheriff as 'he'. He didn't have to worry about divulging secrets that he had already divulged. "Because he has something on you, yeah?" "Yes." "Good. What if I told you that if you helped me with this investigation, I'd get you free?" Jedidiah proposed. His eyes lit up, but darkened again. "You can't do that!" "Of course I can. By the laws of jurisdiction, Sheriff answers to me in this case. I can get you out if you help with the investigation. I can also give you a place to hide while I sort out the rest of the investigation." Gregwas thinking about it for a while, so he didn't notice when Miranda slipped behind him until she twisted his arm and disarmed him. Jedidiah made a mental note to avoid getting on her bad side. "Now that we've neutralised the threat, we have a proposal for you, Gregory." Their smiles must have scared him. ***** I decided to keep a little suspense on this one, and hopefully I'll come back with another chapter today. In the meantime, sorry for the long break in transmission.

Murdersdale 11 The spy, Tommy sat at the table, recounting the events of that day, or more accurately, the events of that day in the Sheriff's life as told from a shadow's perspective. Of course, there were dialogues that he could not listen in on, and places he could not follow him to, but he still had a general idea of what the Sheriff's day was like. Although he didn't know anything about the investigation, and he was just doing this for a quick buck - or couple of bucks, as the Detective was paying him quite handsomely - he was intuitive enough to know that the Sheriff's movements and actions were suspicious, very inconsistent with one who had a very important case on his hands. And apparently, the Detective felt the same way too. "I followed him, that was right about the time y'all split ways, and strangely, he went into a bar. McKinney's." Jedidiah pondered it for a while. if "Odd place for a Sheriff investigating a high profile murder case, especially in the morning," Miranda said. Tommy turned to the beautiful lady by the detective's side, trying not to be too obvious while he gave her the once over. Or twice over, as he had to look again. She was stunning elegant, and yet her eyes had this sharp gaze that told him that she was beautiful and brains. He didn't know how she was a part of this case, but she was a hell of a catch. "The sheriff met with a man there, Bucky, I think that's his name..." Bucky? Jedidiah thought. Another new face - or identity in this case - had entered the mix of things. "...Bucky joined him soon after, and they began to discuss you. Bucky said he'd had a man follow you, and that any new information would be relayed to him. It was clear they wanted to do you in Armandshire." Jedidiah smiled. "I barely escaped by the skin of my teeth, thanks to Miranda here," - this elicited a smile from the lady - "so I'd say you're correct about that, but what else?" "They talked about some general failures in their plan. Bucky said that Scarecrow Thomas was hiding out in Pembrokeshire..." Jedidiah knew the small town, it was the next town after Armandshire. "...and that he would only be called in a dire situation requiring the use of force. They also said that they would need to do away with Marcel..." "Crap!" Jedidiah said, slamming the table. "I forgot about him, goddamnit. He's still damn important in this case, and I need to make sure he's protected at all times. Darn it, I almost messed up!" Tommy sat still until Jedidiah's outburst ended and then continued. "They were going to stall Marcel's execution first and focus on the diadem. On getting the diadem to their 'boss' that is. They both agreed that they'd have to revisit the home of the late Lady Cynster and its occupants, especially Martha. " Miranda shot Jedidiah a glare. "I am sure you must have interrogated these people. Surely you did not cast them out of your mind after you've gotten them, only using them for the information they could get you?!" Jedidiah looked sullen. "That's an inconsiderate thing to do." Silence. "They decided to make their move on the house tomorrow night, by 1 AM. They were going to make use of some 'hired hands' to get the job done." "They can't show their hands and wreck everything they've worked for. They're in a haste, if not they wouldn't be taking such drastic measures this early," Miranda inferred correctly. "Why would their employer be in such a hurry? Except he knows what's at stake and who's gotten involved in the investigation," Jedidiah looked pointedly at Miranda, who caught his drift. "That'd mean that their employer is a very influential man, which is something I couldn't agree more on. The biggest manor in this town is Carlisle Manor, and while no one knows the identity of the mysterious man who bought the place from the Carlisle family, the fact that this person must be very affluent is a fact. And that's why I cannot understand why the Sheriff went there right after the meeting with Bucky ended." Jedidiah's head flicked up immediately. "He went there?" "Yes, stayed there for long in fact. Almost three hours. I pretended to be a homeless man on the street across, which was luckily the side of the market so I wouldn't look out of place. The Sheriff came out looking quite distraught. That was the last thing I saw him do. He went home right after." Interesting. What an interesting day. "Miranda, I'm sure the mystery man will be of much interest to you," Jedidiah spoke up. "Yes. And it still seems our cases are linked - very much. We can solve it as one big case, but we have to go at it from my approach - targeting those at the head, getting them into custody, and using them to sniff out the small fry." "Sounds like a plan," Jedidiah said as they stood up. Grabbing three 20-dollar bills, he folded them and stuffed them in Tommy's coat pocket, thanking him as they left the bar. "Where to now?" "My Inn room. That's been enough mystery for one day," Jedidiah said as he hailed a carriage. ***** Jedidiah was too preoccupied with the events of the day. Thinking, reasoning, suggesting possible approaches in his mind. That was why the sudden squeezing of his lap was a bit of an annoyance until he looked around. The bush oath was nothing like the road to his Inn. "Hey, what the.." he shouted, rapping the roof of the carriage. It came to a halt. As soon as he opened the door and jumped down to confront the incompetent driver, he was staring down the barrel of a gun. "Curiosity killed the cat then and still does so now," the driver said, an icy cold glare in his eyes and a maniacal smile on his lips. "You should have dropped this case when you'd still had the chance, Detective. ***** I'm sorry it's taking so long to update, I'll try to be more consistent and post more frequently than not. But then, how is the story so far?

Murdersdale 10 Sitting opposite the lady in the carriage, Jedidiah couldn't help the battle that was being fought in his head. To either dismiss and disregard her for her earlier assault on his pride - one which he had not recovered from - or to recognize her for just saving his life - of course, taking another man's in the process - and her aid in the investigation. He was reading the article excerpt she'd found of course. "Thank you, Miss, em..." She smirked. "Nice try, but it's obvious you still aren't willing to accord me the respect I deserve. Such a simple trick to get my name won't work," she said, staring out the window. "Worth the try," he said ruefully, turning his attention back to the article. "But I really mean it this time, thanks. I've been a real pain since I've met you, but you've helped me twice. I guess it's time to show a bit of chivalry," he said, looking her in the eye as he took off his hat. She laughed it off, but he could see her cheeks redden. "Miranda. Miranda Hernandez. I'm a private investigator hired by..." "The royal family?" Jedidiah asked, although he already knew her answer was going to be in the affirmative. She smirked again, the singular action having an extremely seductive effect on Jedidiah. "You're living up to your reputation. How did you know?" "A Spanish looking, Spanish sounding beautiful lady appears with information on a missing Spanish artefact and hinting at the fact that she was sponsored. Either it was the royal family, or some criminal element with a relatively equivalent amount of power." She stared outside again. "And how did you know I was not associated with the criminals, huh?" He kept calm. How did he know anyway? "I guess I didn't want to believe that anyway." "Anything to do with the fact that I'm drop-dead gorgeous?" "That and more." They both smiled as the journey continued. - Rumor was a great traveller, but bad news was a faster one. The Sheriff stood opposite the man , analysing the questions he could be asked and choosing his answers carefully. A wrong answer could well be his last, the last two sheriffs before him had worked for the man and HE was the THIRD person to assume that position in TEN years. Simply put, the man did not hesitate to dispose of anything he considered incapable of achieving HIS aims. "Barely an hour, Sheriff. Barely an hour since I have you what I would have thought to be a relatively simple one, owing to your expertise, and yet we're here." Bad news travelled fast. The news that the operation at the library had led to a shootout at a bar, followed by the death of their operatives reached the Sheriff's ear and made him sick. "Every part of the operation was planned to the last 't'. There were however some unforseen variables that..." "I keep you alive and pay you to take care of these 'unforseen variables' and ensure they do not in any way inconvenience, don't I now?" The man said, butting in. "Yes, you do." "Tut tut," the man said, pouring himself a cup of tea and sipping a bit, enjoying his brew. The Sheriff knew his life hung in the balance, and his fate would be determined by the wild thoughts of this maniac in times like this. "I'm feeling merciful today, Sheriff. 72 hours. 3 days. Get me the jewel, eliminate the detective and whatever that variable was that reduced the number my operatives today. Are we clear?" "Crystal, sir." "Good. Out of my sight, then. The clock's tickin'" the man said, laughing maniacally. The Sheriff stumbled out of the manor, looking back at the building before saddling his horse and riding off. If he stayed back a bit longer and cared to look at his surroundings, he'd have seen a homeless man stand up from the dusty pavement and take off his dirty garbs and then reveal a clean teenager who walked off into the alleyway. - As the train came to a halt, Jedidiah just concluded filling in Miranda on all that had happened in the course of his investigation, and his suspicions of the Sheriff. "Hmmm, it's safe to say that we have to be on our toes at this point; for all we know, we're walking targets. I'll be happy to tidy this investigation once and for all, as will you, right, Jed?" He smirked at the new nickname she'd giving him, wondering how a woman he just met that day had already got him acting like a schoolboy. "The feeling is mutual." They disembarked and started walking eout of the station before she gripped his arm and turned to face him, a fiery look in her eyes. "What do you want to do about the jewel?" "What about it?" "What are your designs for it." Then he saw it. She was trying to make sure their interests weren't conflicting. That they weren't rivals. But they weren't. "The fate of the jewel - if we find it - is in your hands. I'm here to investigate the death of Lady Cynster, and you're here for the jewel. Both are interconnected in many ways - as we solve one, we solve both. You can take it back to Spain if you want." She smiled, and then they kept on walking. "Where are we going?" She suddenly asked. "I'd guess you'll need to drop off your luggage as soon as possible," he said, pointing at the medium sized, somewhat heavy bag he carried for her. "But first, I'd have to meet someone." "Vital to the case?" She asked expectantly. "Uh-huh." They stopped in front of a bar and entered. Only a few people were inside, and none paid them much attention. He nodded towards the bartender and they went behind the counter to a private booth, were a teenage boy in clean clothes sat at the table. "Detective!" The boy beamed. "Now Tommy, what did you leave about the interesting life of this town's Sheriff?" - I'm sorry for delaying in my updated, I do realize it's been quite long, but I've had to prepare for the semester exams. @Ozzyy can testify to how stressful all of that was! But I'm back now, and hoping to finish off this story and then write some oneshots along the way if I can.