Fallen One

The zone between Haven and Frontline was quiet. Ash and the corpses of buildings. As a member of the Staves, he had never ventured this far into the ruins. If he had waited three days a Sword would have been able to escort him but for some reason he had elected to undertake the journey alone. The Arcana, after a brief and private deliberation, for some reason, had approved. He carried the staff, more symbol than weapon, his satchel, one pistol with two spare clips (a gift from the Coins). In the boiling murk of sky the jagged bulks of corrupted Eyes hovered and drifted; the injection of Cloak coursed through his bloodstream (a gift from the Cups), masking him from their cavernous gaze. He whispered the mantras taught to him by Arcana Five, wrangling his nervous neural patterns into docile shapes in case the Eyes peered into the psychic spectrum. The Swords said that they rarely did, not over the border zone, since there was little life left to see. 

It was quiet but not silent. Moaning winds, rubble settling, steel creaking. Too easy to imagine as the sounds of ghosts. He walked on, staff in hand, mantras in his mind. Until one of the ambient haunting noises became too regular to be random. Something was following him. If it wasn't a Sword patrol (still three days away) or a Coin shipment (none scheduled), then that meant it was... 

He drew the pistol, visualized the pattern that Arcana Eleven had taught him, and turned to face the direction of the noise. He had never ventured this far into the ruins. He had never seen a live Demon. The Swords were trained to fight Demons. If he had waited three days he wouldn't be alone. He wondered why he had felt the need to leave immediately. He watched the pocked and razored carapace of the creature lurch forth from the skeleton of a skyscraper. It was somehow shiny in the permanent twilight and giving off smoke like charred wood. He wondered why the Arcana had agreed to let him travel alone. He was sure that he was getting the visualization wrong, forgetting the mantras. He had read every account there was of the Swords' encounters with Demons, he had read every research paper written about them. When it moved it made a sound like poisoned lungs wheezing for their last breath. He pointed the pistol. It began to growl. 

Except the growl was not coming from the Demon. From behind him instead. Becoming a snarl, then above him, becoming a roar, and another creature leaping through the air over him towards the Demon. Claws and fangs flashing. There was a collision, the wheezing pitched up into a scream, blood suddenly erupting, a thick stench of infection. The new creature tearing and rending, smaller than the Demon but more savage, the shape of a man, almost. 

He had read all of the accounts from the Swords who had travelled to Frontline and back to Haven, their stories of the guardians there who led the forces against the Demon Army. Most of them were likely embellished, understandably exaggerated, fables for morale. The Dragons, they called them. Exactly who he was searching for. So he recognized who stood before him, over the corpse of the Demon, by description, which turned out to be true and not a tall tale after all. The Mystic Warrior, the Tiger Man. 

“You're Callan,” he said. “My name is Marshal.”

Reunion Part Final

Suki was driving. “Their eyes didn't look right.” 

Angst was in the passenger seat. “I didn't recognize those weapons. I think they were partly psychic.” 

Goner was behind Angst. “This is unbelievable.”

Frank said, “Get to the highway. We have to get some distance, figure out if they can track us.” 

Angst saw the sign approach then recede behind them in the early morning light. “Goodbye Jones Heights,” she whispered. 

“What's the last thing you remember before this version?” Max asked. He was between Goner and Frank in the back seat.

“Shorelines,” they said. 

“Okay... I don't remember where I was before that, and I don't recognize some of those names, but you guys found me during the Event. We were together for a while after that.” 

“We thought the Event shifted us here,” Goner said. 

“What happened next?” Frank asked. 

Max looked down at his hands. “A lot. A lot of bad things.” He glanced at Angst, then Frank. “I don't know if I should say. Some version of them may still happen to you.” 

“To us? What's that supposed to mean?” Goner asked. “What happened to us?” 

“Do you know how or why you became Marshal?” Frank asked.

“No. Maybe I was hiding? Or maybe it was a trap. To me it feels like a lot of time passed after the Event. I feel like I was alone for a long time.” Max glanced at Suki. “I think I met some other versions of some of you. I don't know, it's all pretty jumbled.” 

“Well, it's good to see you again,” Angst said softly. 

Max smiled. Then he winced. 

“Max?” Frank asked. 

“There's just a lot going on up here,” he said, rubbing his temple.

“Try saying it,” Frank said. 

“I keep thinking the words Realtime, Fragmented... Citadel, Underground, Purgatory.” 

Goner chuckled. “What? Don't any of you follow pop culture? Realtime was the latest album from the DJ Mana Junkie, Fragmented is this season's big cable TV drama, Citadel is one of the hottest superhero comics out there, Underground is the best-selling biography of corporate whistle-blower Simon Light, and Purgatory is catching all the buzz on the international film festival circuit.”

“Shit, what is going on here?” Suki said. 

“Yeah, I forgot how weird and confusing things could get,” Max said. 

“No, I mean here, out there.” She pointed out the front window. They all looked outside the car to see the road start to blur, the trees start to shimmer, the sky start to ripple. 

“Can you feel that?” Angst asked. 

Frank said, “We're shifting.”

Goner sighed.

Suki smiled, tears in her eyes.

Reunion Part Five

The storage room of one of the businesses that Frank did record-keeping for. A laptop playing music. A cocktail of psychotropic drugs. A mashup of pagan ritual, Neo Linguistic Programming, and LEGACY brainwashing techniques. 

Marshal had seemed more confused than scared by the abduction. Once the trances had taken over he had become incoherent, then silent. 

Goner was on lookout. Frank was checking Marshal's pulse, pupils, whispering mantras in his ear at designated intervals. Angst was reading the notebook from the satchel – it was filled with poetry. 

The sun would be coming up soon. 

Suki finally walked towards him. Leaned in to look him in the eyes. 

“I don't know where you went. I don't know why you left. We never really knew all that much, I guess. When we found each other here we did what we always did: got safe, laid low, started researching, looking for ways we could help. We had done weeks before, not usually as quiet, but... Then it was months. And there were no calls, there was no sign of you. 

“And then Angst said, 'We need to start living in what's happening, not what might happen'. And she did, then Frank did, and Goner did. But I couldn't. Couldn't do it. I went crazy instead. Like my mind couldn't stop shifting, even though we had. I wondered if that was how you felt, all the time. 

“I took too many pills, too many times, I cut up my arms and legs, I ran away, got arrested. I think I was trying to make a shift happen, somehow. Or maybe I thought that if I got in enough trouble you would come and rescue me. 

“Finally they put me in a hospital. Put me on meds. Put me in therapy. And things eventually got to be okay.” 

Suki straightened up. A tear rolled down her cheek. 

“So why are you here now?” She screamed, “Why now?” She slapped him. 

Marshal heard a voice. Okay, we are a go. 

“I don't want to come back,” he whispered. 

“What did he say?” Frank asked. 

Alright Max, it's time to make things happen. 

“I want to come back,” he said. 

Goner shouted from the doorway. “Three vehicles approaching.”

Reunion Part Four

“This is the 'no-turning-back' conversation,” Frank said. “If we do this, at the very least we will be kidnapping a person, drugging them, and psychologically torturing them. We'll have to go on the run. Our lives in Jones Heights will be over.” 

“Or...” 

“Or we'll be waking him up.” 

“If he even wants to be,” Angst said. “We're happy, maybe he is too.” 

Frank looked at her. They were at their regular table at the cafe, regular lunch orders. “Marshal's not happy. I could tell that after one pint.” 

“What exactly did he say? How could you tell it was really him?” 

Frank took a bite of his sandwich. Sipped his coffee. “It wasn't any one thing. There was no code word or trigger phrase. There were no references he recognized. Nothing obvious. It was... It was as if Marshal is exactly the type of man that Max would have been if nothing strange had ever happened to him. If all the stories had remained stories and had never come true.” 

Angst looked out the window, thoughtful. “I never really could tell how much of what Max said was true. I'm not sure he could either. He taught me how to shoot, though. And to fight monsters.” 

“And sometimes he made you feel better when things were really bad.” 

Angst smiled and nodded. “Okay, let's go get him.” 

As they stepped outside, a car pulled up. Goner was driving. And Suki was in the passenger seat.

Reunion Part Three

“Hi Goner.” 

“Hey! Angst, how are you?” 

“I'm good,” she said. 

“It's good to hear you.” 

They spent some time catching up. Her quiet life in town, quiet job at the B&B. Let him know that Frank was good too. He talked about his busy job in the busy city. Investments, portfolios, boardrooms, deals. Money. He checked to make sure that they were both still receiving the monthly deposits – it didn't feel like charity, they had been through too much together to have any pride or shame attached to such mundane things. 

Goner was good at his job. He used to wonder if he was always suited for work in this field or if being initiated had somehow made him good at it. He had only joined the army for the education, and had only moved into private security for the money. Everything after that had been about survival. At first, anyway. He had been so young. 

“It's...” Her voice changed. 

“What's the matter?” he asked. 

“He's back, Goner.” Silence. “He's different but it's him. Frank confirmed it. His name is Marshal Montgomery, he's in town travelling. He doesn't recognize us. But it's him.” Silence. “He's here for two more nights. We... We're going to try and make him, help him remember. We thought you should be here.” 

“Why the fuck? Even if it is him... just leave him alone. I thought we were done with all of that. It's been seven years. Why the fuck?” 

“Goner...” 

“He did me a favour that day in the alley, and I paid it back a hundred-fold. It's over, all that is over. Just let it be. And don't you dare get Suki mixed up in all of it again. She's finally doing okay.” 

“Please.” 

“Fuck this. No way. It's over.” 

He hung up.

Reunion Part Two

Marshal Montgomery had booked a room for three nights at the Chambers' Bed and Breakfast in the town of Jones Heights. Angst's shift the next day started at noon; Marshal had already headed out by then. Theresa Chambers told her that he had been quiet and polite during breakfast and had taken one of the Walking Tour maps from the front desk when he left. When Angst was replacing the towels and soaps in his room she resisted the urge to go through his travel bag. She noticed that he had used the room's kettle to make a tea but hadn't used any of the packets of instant coffee.  

Frank followed Marshal for hours as he walked the streets of the small town, stopping in shops but buying nothing. Along the canal, sitting at a park bench for a while. Marshal wore a satchel over his shoulder and listened to earphones as he strolled through the Heights. Occasionally he would take a notebook from the satchel and jot something down. 

Eventually Frank came to feel that there was some sleight resemblance, but without Angst's prompting he never would have made the connection. But he was also less certain than Angst that there wasn't some need lurking there... He was, if not happy, at least content. Teaching guitar lessons, the occasional gig at the local pub, part-time work doing some record-keeping for a few small businesses. Dinners and movie-nights with Angst a couple times a week. There was a lack, though. There was the memory of his finger on a trigger. Even shadowing Marshal for the day brought back the rush, reminded him that once he had been a hunter. 

When Marshal stopped at the pub around dinner, Frank decided he would make contact. Frank was well-known there, it would be easy to create opportunities to start a friendly conversation with a tourist. 

Three hours later Frank called Angst. 

“It's him. He doesn't know that he's him, but you were right.”

Reunion Part One

“It's him. He's back,” Angst said.  

“But... I mean...” 

“He doesn't look like he usually did, but I know it's him.” 

“He didn't recognize you?” 

“No. Please. Please believe me,” she said. 

“Okay... Okay, tell me. You said he looked different.” 

“Older, like we are I guess. Heavier, bearded.” 

“And what name did he check-in under?” 

“Marshal Montgomery. License and credit card.” 

“And he didn't... He didn't recognize you?” 

“I know,” Angst said. “I know we always used to recognize each other, no matter what version we were in. Or we thought we did. How can we be sure? I'm sure about this. It was him.” She switched her phone to her other ear. “Do you remember how I used to sometimes have those dreams, and they felt true, and then they would become true... That's how it felt when I saw him. I know it's him. ” 

“Angst...” 

“Listen, I know how it sounds. I know it's been a long time. And I'm happy now. I like it here. I miss it sometimes but I don't need it. And I'm not stupid, most of it used to be pretty terrible. It was scary and violent and... So it's not that. It's not me needing it to be him.” 

“Alright,” Frank said. “I'll check him out.”

Disclosure

“Hi you.”

Max grinned. “Heya. How'd you get this number?”

“It was the decrypt key for the cortex-drives on these hybrid cyborgs that were terrorizing the city. Once I hacked them I noticed it was the same length as a phone number so I thought I'd give it a try.”

“Clever. So you're sorted?” Max asked.

“About to lead the reprogrammed cyborg army in a revolt against their corrupt creators, but it should go okay.”

“I miss you.”

“Me too, sweetie. How's things on your end?”

Max took a breath. “I've been thinking a lot. Mags... Maggie, here's the thing... I was never a marine. There was never an MK-Omega project. I was never part of any experiment, I never shot anyone. I don't really know how to shoot these guns I carry around, I don't know martial arts, and I certainly don't have any magic powers. I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me.”

“Max... It's okay. I'm not really an angel. I've never travelled in time. I have no idea how to fight demons. I'm making it up. It's all made up. Just like laws, and governments. And money and religions. And culture and even identity. It's all made up, it's all art. Everything is art. But that doesn't mean it isn't true.”

“Hm. Yeah...”

“You told me that, when we first met – or one of the first times we met – after we woke up in those weird tanks in that underwater base. Max, I gotta run – the borgs are getting restless...”

“Right on, have fun! Thanks, Maggie.”

“Love you!”

“Love you too.”

Sunsetters

Max had kicked off his shoes and felt the sand between his toes, and it felt good. 

A wave lapped up on the beach, nearly reaching his toes this time. He sat on a log watching the sun setting upon the horizon. He took another pull from his beer.

The sound of fire crackling behind him and the strum of a guitar made it all seem so surreal to him. It had been a long, long time since he had just sat with nothing to do but drink a beer at his own pace.

"This is grand, isn't it," Frank said as he approached him. He was holding out another bottle of beer. "It looked like you were just about running on empty on that one."

"Thanks man," he said as he took the new bottle and placed it beside him. "Really, don't want to move from this spot."

"Simply beautiful here, isn't it old friend," Frank said as he sat on the log beside him.

"That it is," he replied. He finished the last of the liquid in the bottle before chucking it out into the water.

"You know that's 10 cents you tossed out there," Frank chided. 

Knight's Gambit

"This is a stupid game," Darius interjected. He looked at the board again and couldn't decide what to do. "Why do you even bother to play it?"

Max reached for a cup of coffee and took a sip before replying, "It's all about the moment."

"Moment," Darius said. "By God's good grace, what moment is that?"

Max put the coffee mug down and leaned forward; he waved his arm over the chess pieces like a amateur magician at a kids' show. "You look at the board and what do you see? Several items carved out of wood on a two-toned coloured board. Each carving represents a being and what they represent. You know the stage is set and that these pieces can only move a certain amount in a certain way for a set number of moves. Though one might think that it's limited, alas the game itself is a wonderful dance, not only of the mind but also the action of movement. The possibilities are endless."

Darius looked at the board again and then up at Max.

"It's just an unanimated object, Darius," Max said. "We make it come to life with our actions." 

+ PLEX TOURS .5 The Subway

• The Bunker
• The Lab Level Two
• The Cast
• The Bookstore
• The Brownstone
• Metafesto
• The Diner
• Chronoplex
• The Lab

1. Bishop: No two people have ever described the conductor of the Subway in the same way. His physical appearance and personality seem to vary as much as the worlds at each stop on the journey. Bishop once told Max that the Subway was powered by a Mystery Engine fuelled by inputting data about heavily researched but currently unsolved topics like Bigfoot Sightings or the JFK Assassination. The origin of the Subway is its own greatest mystery, a subject Bishop is silent on...

2. Akimoto: Often found meditating or practising his sword forms in the aisle between seats. His worn army jacket draped over a stack of folded tropical shirts.

3. Aqua: Listening to the most current club mixes on her headphones, her signature cowboy hat and battle gauntlets on the seat beside her.

4. Suki: When she isn't bopping and skipping up and down the aisle, or watching the psychedelic blur outside the windows, she'll stretch out on a row of seats and use her school books as a pillow. The Godhammer is always within reach.

5. Max: Usually reading newspapers or comic books.

6. Doors: Always opening onto different platforms, different worlds, different possibilities. 

Eigenvector

"I haven't seen Cube in days," Gauntlet says.

"He's on assignment," Brogan replies without looking up from the datapad.

"Is the file available?"

"It's deep cover. Classified."

"Understood." She turns to leave. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Nevermind."

*

Three days later, Gauntlet and Viking are in the field, sniper training for an upcoming op. Gauntlet in the grass on the trigger of the .50 Cal, a mashup of Futhark runes and Bagua trigrams painted in nail polish along the barrel. Viking laying beside her, spotting, running through the Artemis mantras he will use when the time comes. If there is any surveillance on them it will be visual only, from Hermit.

"He left a note hidden in my bunk," Viking whispers. "I'll show it to you when we get a chance."

"What did it say?"

"That he wouldn't be coming back from the mission, that hopefully it was because he went rogue and not because Brogan's ambush worked. He apologized for not getting a chance to move on Brogan, and for leaving us in a difficult situation. He said that he hoped we would meet again, and that hopefully we'd remember each other if we did..."

"Hm." She adjusts her scope.

"So what's our play? You have to know he's right about Brogan."

"I think Brogan's only a puppet. I think it goes even farther. Maybe the whole MK-Omega project is dirty. So we watch and we listen, maybe look into Cube's first tour with the Cadre, try not to tip our hand, and maybe we can get a glimpse behind the curtain... And then 'To Be Continued'."

"Ha. That's what he wrote on the bottom of the note."

Archives

Section: Hostile Organizations
Sub-section: Cults
Entry 081118: The Revelation

A small cell of terrorists who operate globally. Their agenda seems to be destabilizing existing government and economic systems and disseminating anarchy. The nature of their communication network and funding sources remain unknown.

They tend to operate individually and only occasionally meet in person. Each agent is highly-trained in multiple combat styles and social engineering techniques. Agents are also expert-level psychics, employing clairvoyance, telekinesis, pyrokinesis, and in some cases even transvection.

The Revelation uses Christian symbolism in their activities. Field codes often involve linguistic or numerical references to passages in the Bible, from a variety of translations. Operatives adopt callsigns based on characters from Christian mythology. Despite these references, the cult does not appear to have an overtly religious motivation; there is no evangelical component to their actions. On the contrary, they have repeatedly attacked multiple power centres of organized religion, as well as government and corporate targets.

Current Known Roster: Gabriel (Gabby), Magriel (Mags), Ms. Morningstar (Lucy), Lilith (Lily), St. George (Pretty), Sandalphon (Sandy).


“There you are,” Cube said softly, looking at the file.

“For most people downtime doesn't mean research, my friend,” Brogan said as he entered the room.

Cube lay the pad down on the couch beside him. He didn't bother trying to clear the screen; Brogan would have Admin access and be able to track Cube's searches. Cube suspected that he had alerts set up for when certain files were opened and that his arrival in the lounge right now wasn't an accident.

“Would you believe I've seen all the movies we have downloaded? And the doc says I'm still not allowed to play videogames until my aura is fully recovered from the Inverness mission.”

“That's unfortunate,” Brogan said. “As soon as we get another secure transmission window I'll make sure I.T. gets some new content. They have digital comics online now, don't they? Didn't you used to read a lot comics?”

“That would be great. Thanks, Brogan.”

“My pleasure, Cube.”