*beep beep*
Willpower manifest. A guiding force toward...
*beep beep*
A future unknown and incomprehensible...
*beep beep*
A long sigh was drawn from the man as he sat in a meditative pose, his focus now broken. Grabbing up his vidphone he studied the information that was displayed and hit "accept" on the screen. A figure in a long hood appeared, his mouth the only exposed feature.
"Yes?" the man questioned simply. "I've another contract if you're interested. It'll require a fair amount of stealth and your special talents. 5000 creds; interested?" responded the voice. "Its not a matter of interest. The Box has set this path before me, and I accept it willingly," said the man flatly. "Of course. Everything you need is in a node. I'll send you the address."
The vidphone's screen went abruptly black followed shortly after by a notification of a message. The man stood and stretched his limbs causing a small inhaler to clank onto the ground. Kicking it into a random corner, the man sighed and ran his heavily scarred hands across his face and shaved head. His hands methodically and mindlessly pulled and fidgeted with his facial piercings, the pain bringing him back to reality. "At least I know that won't be what I die of," he said aloud.
Pulling on a trench-coat made of black daemonic leather the man strode over to a spot on one of the walls. He pulled out a small ring with an affixed spike protruding from one side and slipped it on. Drawing the spike across his already warped flesh forced open old wounds and allowed several drops of blood to drop heavily to the floor. The man's eyes displayed signs of an ecstatic state as the metal bit the skin. Wasting no time he called upon the power of the soul trapped within the ring and touched the wall. A strange symbol flared into view for only a moment as a mental alarm was set within the man's mind.
Leaving the small hovel the man called home brought him to the streets of Sub-Level 3. It wasn't rampant with crime but if he was careful he could conduct his business without prying eyes. Walking to a public terminal, the man began to navigate to the address his Credfix had sent. Information poured over his eyes as he committed it to memory. A short three minutes later and he was finished, deleting everything within the node before walking away.
The man's walk brought him to the front of the Gerald & Gerald building. Ignoring the strange looks he received from passersby the man strode up to the doors and inside. Security was light and it was easy for the man to sneak his ringblade inside. The admonium sheath it rested in made sure it could not be Mystically scanned. Walking through the lobby to the elevators, the man rode up to the third floor. He received much stronger stares of repulsion from within the building. Corporate suits couldn't handle seeing someone with the weight of life sitting upon the first layer of skin. It did not bother the man in the least, nor did it appear he even noticed, for he was focused on his mission.
Stepping into the hall of the third floor the man looked around quickly before darting into a shadowy nook. Biding his time until there was a single, hurried businessman not paying attention, the man leapt out in attack. In a fluid motion he wrapped one arm around the man's head to pull it to the side whilst the ringblade's spike found its way into his throat. The man instantly seized up, tried to scream and found he could only gurgle and writhe in pain for the last moment of his life. Focusing on the spirit leaving the body, the man called forth the spirit to his side through mental willpower. The businessman's corpse fell to the ground as his spirit floated by his attacker in sickening loyalty. A small smile crossed the man's face as he damned the entirety of the spirit in trade for power.
Stumbling back into his hiding place the man found his mind suddenly filled with visions of his immediate future. Flashes of insight gave him the knowledge necessary to complete the rest of his mission. As the visions subsided he stood and walked through the complex with purpose. He eventually came to a thick metal door with obvious reinforcements. Focusing his power again he damned a portion of the spirit within his ring. The inside of his trench-coat became a black void for a moment as he reached in and pulled forth a small thermal bomb that once rested in his home. Setting the timer and taking cover, the bomb went off as his vision had indicated, burning a hole directly through the lock and a decent part of the door. He walked inside the room and quickly found his target; a large book made of actual wood and paper.
Before he could claim his prize, two security guards entered the room shouting at him to get on the ground and not resist. The man sneered and spun around, allowing his trench to fly open as he damned the last of the spirit within his ring. Six black tendrils covered in sharp barbs flew out of the darkness of his coat at the first guard, skewering him to the wall. The second guard opened fire, able to hit the man in the shoulder, splattering his blood upon the wall. No scream of pain followed the gunshot, only a strange laugh. "Should've aimed better..." said the man as he called forth the spirit of the dead guard only to damn it instantly for power. Darkness opened on the floor beneath the guard allowing uncountable skeletal arms to reach through. The jagged bones slashed and gripped at the man, attempting to pull him down to the unknown depths.
After only a few moments the wounds were too great to bear and the man dropped to the floor as he body was shred into a bloody mass. With great effort his spirit was called to the man's side, whom then seemed to gently play with the floating soul as if a well-loved pet. "We all serve Disraeli's will," he said before snatching up the ancient tome and damning the soul to open a rift of darkness.
Stepping out of the darkness, the man was deposited safely in his hovel. The rift closed behind him and he dialed the number last used on his vidphone. He stared at his arm covered in fresh wounds from using his powers as he waited for his Credfix to answer.
"I've got the item," he said flatly. "Excellent. You've come through for us yet again. We'll be in touch, William."
Fan-fiction for Obsidian: The Age of Judgement
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