Gender: Unspecified Location: Your mom's basement.
Ch. 11
“C’mon Probie, you have to tell me if you got a piece of that,” DiNozzo said openly seeing as the Lieutenant was left behind with Abby at NCIS.
“You know me, Tony. I don’t kiss and tell,” McGee found himself smiling as e took a picture of the latest crime scene provided my Marijgell.
DiNozzo stopped his task and turned towards McGee.
“You got some last night didn’t you?” he inquired with enthusiasm.
McGee simply continued to take pictures without looking at the Senior Field Agent.
“No. it wouldn’t be that easy for you,” he said with skepticism.
“And why is that?” McGee responded.
“You did!” he exclaimed, “You did.”
McGee didn’t respond.
“You did,” DiNozzo smiled, “Our little Probie has finally popped his cherry.”
“That wasn’t my first time,” McGee turned, his ears turning red.
“Sure Probie,” he said patting McGee’s back.
“It wasn’t!” he exclaimed.
“Wasn’t what McGee?” Gibbs asked as he walked in carrying his coffee.
“N-nothing boss,” McGee stammered.
DiNozzo laughed at McGee’s expense making Gibbs smack him on the head as he walked passed to interview the witness.
“Same MO as the first two victims boss,” he said in a tight voice, “the only difference this time is that he killed both victim and the person he hung from the ceiling. But Miss Terry over here thinks she saw him as he was driving off.”
“Miss Terry?” Gibbs questioned.
“Yeah boss. She’s a prostitute who was on her way home from a… gig, when she heard the screams and saw Marijgell running out the back,” DiNozzo explained.
“How did she know what Marijgell look like?” Gibbs stopped, the fury in his eyes was apparent.
“Um-well-uh-you see,” he stammered.
Gibbs’ stare intensified and the fire grew hotter.
“The FBI put out a bolo on him,” he finally managed.
“Tobias,” Gibbs shook his head and continued to walk around the scene.
Back at NCIS, Gibbs, McGee and DiNozzo found Johnson and Captain Richardson having a heated discussion in the corner behind the stairs leading to MTAC and the director’s office.
“… and it is completely unacceptable that you would do so,” they caught the Captain’s words just as they exited the elevator.
While the others moved on to their desks, McGee hung back to catch the rest of the conversation.
“Well… do you have anything to say for yourself?” Cpt. Richardson fumed.
“Only that I am deeply sorry, sir, and that although my actions completely went against protocol, I am not ashamed for what I have done,” she said standing at attention, “and furthermore, sir, it has come apparent that because of my actions, I shall resign from the Navy.”
McGee watched as she pulled out her pass and handed it to her Captain. Richardson’s hand enclosed around the pass as he continued to stare down the Lieutenant. McGee was ready to intervene when he saw Richardson replace Johnson’s pass into its holder on her belt.
“The next time you hand me our pass, Lieutenant Johnson, you had better be prepared to lose not only it, but every award you’ve received in the Navy,” he threatened before walking around the steps and up them to the director’s office.
The next thing McGee knew, Johnson was at his side with the saddest look in her eyes he’d ever seen in a person.
“We need to talk,” she whispered brokenly.
“McGee! Johnson! Get over here!” Gibbs’ voice cut them in half.
Quickly they made their way over to the desks and saw Abby was talking in a racing voice about her discovery.
“… so I did a spectral analysis of the composition and found it to be… ink,” she smiled very proudly despite McGee and Johnson being in the same vicinity so close to each other, “But not just any ink.”
“What kind Abby?” Gibbs said, the anxiety in his voice not very well hidden.
“The kind used by D.C.’s own Washington Times,” she smiled even wider making her blood red mouth stretch across her face completely.
“Let’s go! DiNozzo and David, take the Sedan over to the Washington Times’ and fill them in on the situation,” Gibbs ordered.
“What if they ask for a warrant?” David asked.
“Tell them there’s a dangerous Vampire on the loose in their building,” Johnson offered, “That’ll get them to cooperate.”
“McGee and Johnson, I want you too to hack into their system and pull up their security cameras,” Gibbs continued once he grabbed his gun and loaded a new clip into it, “And Abby….”
Abby broke her glare at Lt. Johnson and turned her full attention to Gibbs.
Gender: Unspecified Location: Your mom's basement.
Ch. 12
At the warehouse owned by the Washington Times, McGee and Johnson sat in a black van working on getting into the system. McGee worked on getting into the cameras while Johnson hacked into their files of employees from the past 20 years. Outside, DiNozzo, David, and Gibbs waited at their respective posts for the go ahead from McGee.
“Do you ever wonder how he does it?” Johnson asked suddenly.
“What? Who?” McGee tore his eyes away from the monitor for a brief second.
“Gibbs. How’d he know what we did last night?” she asked.
“Cause he’s Gibbs. And Gibbs knows all,” he replied.
Johnson smiled, “You’d think there was some Magick in him.”
McGee stopped for a second and thought about that, “Wouldn’t surprise me really.”
“So he’s always like that? Knowing what you’ve done before you’ve done it?”
“That’s Gibbs.”
“And the head smacking?”
“It’s what his boss did to him as a Probie.”
“He was a Probie once?” she smiled.
“Yes, unfathomable but true,” he laughed.
“McGee stop flirting and get a move on,” Gibbs’ voice crackled through their headsets.
“Okay boss you’re green for go,” he said without missing a beat.
“Gibbs I found Marijgell,” Johnson said, “He’s a box boy under the name Malick Hassa. And get this; he’s registered as a Vampire from Roman times.”
“Good job Lieutenant Johnson, now tell me where this bastard is,” Gibbs ordered.
“He’s on the top floor in a room down the hall and to the left,” McGee answered.
They watched as Gibbs and David ran up the stairs while DiNozzo took the long route out back. Gibbs stood on one side of the door and David too the other; after waiting a quick second, Gibbs gave the nod and they burst through the door.
“NCIS!!” David called.
But the room was empty save for a recently mutilated body of a woman in army fatigues. David dropped to the floor to check for a pulse and found the faintest of heartbeats.
“She’s still alive,” she reported.
“I need an ambulance at the Washington Times building three top floor,” Gibbs radioed.
He walked over to the single open window and looked out into the alleyway below to see DiNozzo.
“Sorry boss, we lost him,” he apologized.
Gibbs looked around and slammed his hand down hard on the windowsill once he confirmed DiNozzo’s observation. Once the Medics arrived and carried the woman away, Team Gibbs returned to base and began discussing a new plan.
“We need to change how were looking at this guy,” DiNozzo said.
“He’s definitely going to kill again,” Ducky’s voice said from the monitor behind them where he was in conference with the team and Abby, “He didn’t have the opportunity to finish this meal this time so he feels the need to satiate this hunger of his.”
“Wait…,” Lt. Johnson said, “I hear him.”
“Hear him?” Abby’s question came out garbled in the shaky feed.
“Abby?” McGee said in confusion as he typed in a few key codes.
“Shh… he’s mad. Very mad,” Johnson said, “He wants the woman but he doesn’t know where we took her.”
Everybody froze in place, some held their breaths.
“He… he’s trying to find the right scent trail, but there’s so many intermingling. I think he’s in a public place. I can see now… he’s standing behind a statue.”
“What statue? Can you see?” Gibbs asked.
“There are columns, like the Romans had. That’s why he’s there, the columns remind him of home and it comforts him,” she continued.
“The Lincoln Memorial,” McGee realized.
“Let’s go!” Gibbs ordered.
“Wait there’s more… he’s finding his next victim, a certain scent caught his interest. He likes the smell of chamomile,” she opened her eyes, “That’s what sets him off.”
“Chamomile?” David asked.
“You see, every Vampire has a favorite scent, it’s what draws them to their victims. Whether it’s natural or artificial, when a person is drawing a Vampire in via their scent, they’re done for. Unless the Vampire has incredible control, in which I only know of a few cases like that, the scent drives the Vampire crazy and even the oldest and most discipline of Vampires will lose complete control,” she explained.
“That gives me an idea!” DiNozzo exclaimed.
“Does it have anything to do with a movie?” Gibbs asked.
“Not sure but, hear me out,” he said, “we get some chamomile and rub it on one or two of us to confuse him.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Gibbs said, “Didn’t you just hear what she said-?”
“I’ll do it,” Johnson said, “He can’t kill me.”
“Where do we get chamomile though?” David asked.
“Give me two minutes,” Johnson said opening the door to the outside world, “Go ahead and start over, I’ll meet you there.”
Before McGee could protest her actions, she was gone.
Gender: Unspecified Location: Your mom's basement.
Ch. 13
“This isn’t a good idea, Am,” McGee told Johnson as they were opening the packages of chamomile.
“Why?” she turned to him with a bit of a smile.
“I just don’t think you should be the one to risk your life,” he mumbled, struggling with the plastic wrap.
Lt. Johnson took the chamomile tea from him and wrapped her arms around him, “I know you’re worried about me, Timmy. But I have to do this.”
“No, you don’t,” McGee wrapped his arms around her as well, one hand moved into her hair.
The doorknob turned, breaking the Lieutenant and McGee apart. Abby walked through the door with Gibbs, as usual, the Lab Tech’s eyes narrowed as soon as she saw Johnson.
“Do you really plan to rub yourself down with bags of chamomile tea, Lt. Johnson?” Abby’s voice had a certain smug quality to it.
“Better than that, Miss Sciuto,” Johnson smiled, “I’m going to do exactly what Saiyan perfume makers do. Extract the pure scent from the tiny, pulverized leaves.”
“And how do you plan on doing this?” Gibbs asked with a thin, white eyebrow raised.
“Like this…,” she took one of the bags and ripped open the filter to reveal the shriveled up leaves.
She dumped the leaves into her open palm and placed the other hand over top of the first. After that, things began to get really weird for the NCIS employees. Johnson’s emerald eyes began to glow brilliantly, but that wasn’t the detail that caused even Gibbs to jump back. A thick, greenish-yellow fog began to seep through the Lieutenant’s fingers before hitting the floor and snaking out across the hard linoleum. The smell of chamomile, strong and demanding, filled their nostrils and stuck to the back of their throats. Once satisfied with whatever she had done, Lt. Johnson held her hands over a glass bottle sitting on the countertop and let what looked like water drip into the narrow opening.
“Is that how they do it… wherever?” Abby asked, the anxiety in her voice turning the gravely tone she usually held into that of a child.
“Charon, furthest planet from the sun, its capital Saiya, was the birthplace for my grandmother, and the rest of my people. And yes, it is. I basically super-charged the tea leaves and evaporated the solid molecules making them… solid. The liquid remaining is the pure scent of the chamomile that our killer is so fond of,” she picked up the bottle that held the tiny amount of liquid swirling around at the bottom, “This tiny amount is enough for even humans to smell, but in order to secure our mouse in this little trap of ours, I’m going to fill this whole bottle up.”
She gave the liquid a swirl and the light danced across its surface, casting tiny rainbows on the surface of the glass. Once satisfied in her plan, Gibbs and Abby left McGee ad Johnson to their work.
“So your aunt, how did she come to be friends with you parents?” McGee asked after the tenth chamomile bag had been ripped open.
“My mom and blood aunt went to school with Kay and Em,” she explained.
“Em?”
“Emily Black. She’s an FBI agent now, working with the BAU.”
“Wow. But that doesn’t answer my question.”
Johnson couldn’t help but smile, “It was kindergarten. My mom and aunt were new, just transferred in from Romania, so naturally, they were nervous, scared. Until they met a one, Kyrie Humphreys, sitting alone in the corner with some building blocks. Aunt Kay was always made fun of as a kid, my mom and Aunt Faye were the first to see what she truly was. A few years later, Emily Black transferred from the famous Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, having learned all she could in just four short years there; she branched off from her family’s home and came to the States.
“She met Aunt Kay first, like my mom had, she saw something… something special in my mom. Even though she was spurned by the rest of their classmates, Emily opted to stay out of the limelight and stick with the trio of outcasts turned quartet. They all joined the band in fourth grade, my mom picked the saxophone, particularly the bari sax, Aunt Faye chose the trumpet, Aunt Em took up the trombone, and Aunt Kay the flute,” she paused a second to drip the scent into the bottle McGee held out for her.
“Then the accident happened. It all started when they were in eighth grade and Aunt Kay broke her ankle, she got in shape in the months following her surgery and to celebrate… they went on a camping/hiking trip through the Appalachians. But little did they know, our dear friend Ariella Marijgell was in the area, and caught wind of Emily and Kay, then humans. They tried to hold them off as long as they could but…,” she stopped; her voice was thick with tears that didn’t come, “In the end, Kyrie’s true nature was unleashed. She turned out to be the reincarnation of… well, you heard the title.
“After all that, she discovered her knack for not only hockey, but music, as well as writing. My mom went on to marry my dad and my aunt’s their respective husbands, then me and my cousins were born. Then comes many, many boring stories that will put you to sleep which I just… cannot have seeing as you’re the only one willing to help me.”
“Where do your parents live now?” McGee asked before he could stop himself.
“Right now they’re on tour around Europe,” she said as she worked her magick on the latest batch of leaves, “And after that’s all done with, Florida. Dad loves it there for some reason.”
They were silent once more for the remainder of their task. McGee would tear open each bag and dump its contents into her open palm, after ten bags were in her hand, she closed it and changed the pile of black into the same rainbow liquid that was now almost full.
Gender: Unspecified Location: Your mom's basement.
Ch. 14
The ominous black van pulled up behind the Lincoln Memorial and the three agents stuffed in the back poured out with relief. Lt. Johnson clutched the glass vial full of the pure chamomile scent as she stumbled across the green grass like a drunk person. After she steadied herself, McGee and DiNozzo jumped down and joined her.
“Does she always drive like that or just when we’re in a hurry?” Johnson asked.
DiNozzo chuckled as he checked the clip in his Sig Saucer, “Always. That was actually slower than usual.”
With a sigh she tightened the spray nozzle on the vial and began to leave a trail to lead Marijgell towards their trap.
“See you in a short bit,” she smiled before running off to complete the bait.
McGee stared at the spot she had been standing in for a few seconds longer than normal and DiNozzo took notice.
“So you really do love her, huh,” it wasn’t a question.
“Yeah, I do,” McGee answered anyway.
“Just be careful Probie. Don’t get your heart broken,” he warned quietly.
McGee had nothing to say in return DiNozzo had never offered him advice such as this before unless it came with a punch line. By the time David and Gibbs had grabbed their gear from the back of the van Johnson had returned and was spraying herself with the chamomile. When she saw the longing look in his blue-grey eyes, she beckoned to him. They stepped behind the safety of the van and away from the prying eyes of the NCIS team.
“I still think that-,” McGee began before Johnson’s lips attacked his.
A fire began where their lips met, ignited by a spark that had been dormant for the past two days since they were in bed for the first time. His hands cupped her face while her arms wrapped around his neck to pull him closer to her. After a while though the fire began to dim as they remembered what they had to do. But when they broke apart, they still clutched to each other for support; as if the world had shattered underneath their feet and if they moved they too would shatter along with it.
“I have to do this Timmy,” she panted.
“No. no you don’t,” he insisted.
“If I don’t, he’s going to kill again,” she said with her eyes still closed as she leaned into him, “and when that happens, it’ll be my entire fault because I had the chance to stop him before.”
“You aren’t responsible for what happens because of him,” he pulled her back and looked her straight into her emerald eyes.
She looked at him for a few seconds before giving a slow nod.
“McGee!” Gibbs’ voice split them in two and reassembled the world around them.
“Let’s do this,” she whispered.
Johnson ran off while McGee jogged around the van to run directly into Gibbs leaning against the back bumper. The look in his eye told McGee that he knew more than the average bear but McGee couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or approved. As he walked passed the Supervisory Senior Field Agent, the Navy Lieutenant walked up to DiNozzo and David with the vial still held in her hands. With the tiniest of sprays, Johnson covered them in the scent.
“That is all?” David asked.
“This stuff is strong, even a tiny amount such as that is enough to drive him off his rocker for at least a few minutes,” she explained.
“I can’t even smell anything,” DiNozzo sniffed his shirt in curiosity.
“Trust me, Marijgell can.”
“Okay people listen up,” Gibbs ordered, “Lt. Johnson is the one who’s gonna take this sucker down. All you have to do is keep moving and stay alive.”
“Yes, the scent is everywhere so he won’t be able to distinguish one person from the other, and it’s strong enough in the air to muddle his senses,” Johnson said.
“If we are going against a Vampire unable to be shot then why do we have-,” David began.
“Reassurance,” Gibbs said, “The people here won’t panic as much as long as they feel an authority present.”
“I’ll be keeping Marijgell away from the humans, you keep-,” Johnson began.
“The humans away from Marijgell,” DiNozzo finished pulling back the barrel on his Sig to emphasize his point, “Got it.”
“In order to keep in contact, seeing as it’s too hard to stay under cover around a Vampire with a wire, I’ll be the Conduit,” Johnson said.
“A what?” David asked.
“A link so we can all share thoughts and communicate,” she explained, “Of course it’ll only be on the surface. Meaning the communication won’t penetrate the id.”
Before anyone could object a bloodcurdling scream split the air.
“That’s our cue. Let’s go!” Gibbs ordered.
Without another word they split up and took their respective positions.
‘He’s trying to find someone to attack but the scent is throwing him off,’ Johnson’s observation cut through their minds.
“I don’t get it,” Gibbs complained, “How’s this supposed to work?”
‘Just think,’ Johnson told them.
‘Testing?’ David’s unsure thought sounded through everyone’s mind.
‘Whoa… trippy,’ DiNozzo’s excitement rang loud and clear, ‘Echooooooo.’
‘Huh. This gives me an idea-,’ McGee’s idea began to play.
‘Keep it hidden Timmy. A wall, put up a wall,’ Johnson’s hurried thought distracted the rest of the team.
‘McGeek… didn’t know you had it in you,’ David laughed.
‘Focus people,’ Gibbs demanded, ‘Okay, I got Marijgell in my sights.’
The olive-skinned Vampire staggered across Gibbs’ with a wild look in his bloody red eyes. A viscous substance dripped from his lips and fell to the ground like rain drops, but unlike rain the substance burned through granite walkway leading to the marble steps of the memorial to one of the nation’s greatest leaders.
‘That’s the venom. If he bites you or that somehow gets into your bloodstream, you’ll be turned,’ Johnson pictured the process her Aunts had explained to her.
‘Ouch. Okay, no venom contact. Got it,’ DiNozzo cringed.
McGee moved as silently as possible around behind Marijgell to block him from the steps as the tourists took cover in the walls of the memorial. But when his foot kicked a loose rock Marijgell’s way, the rabid Vampire turned and lunged toward the vulnerable agent.
“Timmy!!!” Lt. Johnson’s screech pierced their ears as she ran after him.
The Vampire turned towards the oncoming threat and used Agent McGee to block her attack. Leaving black marks on the walkway, Johnson stopped; her chest heaved with the effort tot not lunge forward. A twisted smile crossed Marijgell’s face as he held McGee’s arm contorted behind his back. The pained look on McGee’s face revealed what his pleading thoughts didn’t.
‘Kill him Am, please just kill this bastard,’ his thoughts cried out between the external shouts.
“Kill me and the human dies!” Marijgell’s voice said in Greek; it came out in clear bell tones, like the one’s you would hear from a funeral procession.
‘What did he say!?’ Gibbs’ panicked thoughts shouted form his position in the bushes.
‘That he’ll kill Timmy if we kill him,’ Johnson reported, rage seethed in her internal voice.
“Leave now and nobody has to die,” Marijgell ordered.
“You know we can’t do that Ariella,” Lt. Johnson said aloud.
“Do it!” his funeral bell voice began to plead.
“Just let him go and I promise they won’t hurt you,” she said.
“I am dead either way,” Marijgell’s voice turned grave.
‘Boss, what are they saying? I can’t hear,’ DiNozzo thought.
‘I don’t know, just sit tight,’ Gibbs ordered as calmly as he could manage.
“Just let him go, they won’t do anything. Remember, you’re an original,” the Lieutenant continued, “If you give in now they can still spare you. But if you kill Agent McGee, they’ll have no choice.”
Lt. Johnson took a fraction of a step forward, but a breeze picked up and blew the chamomile scent towards Marijgell. This made him snap back into focus; a snarl ripped through his chest, venom splashed on McGee’s back, the acidic bio-chemical eating straight through the lining of his jacket. With a twist, Marijgell snapped McGee’s wrist, forcing a cry of both horror and pain through the trained NCIS Agent’s mouth. The scream mingled with the scent and Ariella Marijgell couldn’t hold back any longer.
He opened his jaws wide and bit into McGee’s shoulder. The diamond like teeth constructed by Ares to rip and tear through shields and barriers made the fabric of McGee’s jacket and shirt seem like nothing but fog. The cry from McGee’s throat no longer resembled that of a human but some primeval creature as it burned his throat raw and cut the air with razors. Without thinking, Lt. Johnson let her instincts, so different from Marijgell’s, to take control of her body. Time seemed to slow as she moved forward to pull Marijgell’s teeth from McGee and pulled her love away from the doomed monstrosity.
Shots rang out from three sides as soon as Johnson and McGee were clear from the line of fire. An automatic reaction programmed into the Special Agents’ wiring, they didn’t realize what they were doing until it was too late. Marijgell made another attempt to grab at McGee but they had moved too far from him. As soon as DiNozzo was supporting the weight of his fellow team member, Lt. Johnson turned and pulled the chamomile vial from her pocket. Instead of pressing the trigger to release more of the scent into the air, she tore off the top and poured the rest of the liquid onto her head before casting the empty glass vial aside.
In order to truly confuse and divert his attention, the Lieutenant ran circles around him. Once… twice… three time… and a fourth before Marijgell’s hands grasped at her. He pulled her towards his body with wide open jaws ready to receive her Romanian blood. But just as his teeth grazed the skin of her expose throat, he froze with a cry of surprise. He released Johnson and looked down at the red blossoms spreading on his chest arms and legs. With a choking noise, Marijgell collapsed onto the ground… dead.
Last edited by That ACDC Chick on Jun 11th, 2009 at 08:02 PM
Gender: Unspecified Location: Your mom's basement.
‘Timmy,’ Lt. Johnson’s mind screamed breaking the connection between the NCIS team members with an audible snap.
She rushed over to DiNozzo setting McGee down onto the lawn as gently as possible. The pain in his features confirmed to her the only solution. She ripped open his shirt and took one hesitant look at the wound; the blood still flowed easily, sped up both by McGee’s adrenaline and the venom’s ability to keep his blood from clotting. Without a second to spare, she covered the wound with her mouth and began to suck the venom from his system. DiNozzo cleared his throat and called in an Emergency Response team. When the blood hit her system, Johnson felt an immediate wave of nausea wash over her, but she held on to save McGee. It was only when his eyes opened and he looked up at the sky that the Vampural Lieutenant pulled away.
With a smile she pulled his head into her lap, “I thought I was going to lose you there for a second.”
Gender: Unspecified Location: Your mom's basement.
Epilogue
“We have had many great men and women join our ranks to serve this great country of ours. But it was only recently that we included Magicks into our nations military. Tonight we recognize the achievements and new rankings of some of the Navy’s Magick Officers. Former Ensign Eric Burrows, now Lieutenant Junior Grade Eric Burrows. Former Commander Dane Crones, now Captain Dane Crones. Former Lieutenant Commander Sarah Dane now Commander Sarah Dane…,” the Master of Ceremonies called each name one by one in the same dulled over voice he had been using the entire event.
“Geez! When is this supposed to be over with?” DiNozzo complained.
“Be patient Tony, it’s only been two hours,” David said.
“Two hours? Only two hours?” Tony whispered sarcastically.
“Quiet here she comes,” McGee shushed them.
“… Former Lieutenant Amelia Johnson now Lieutenant Commander Amelia Johnson…,” the MC called.
The team at NCIS, including Ducky, Jimmy and Abby, all stood to applaud her achievement as LCDR Johnson stood and walked straight as a board to the stage to receive her plaque and patches before exiting and rejoining the rest of the Naval Officers. As Abby sat back down, she couldn’t help but feel a weight press down on her chest when she saw the way McGee looked at the Lieutenant Commander.
‘It really is over,’ she realized.
“Hey Tim,” Johnson called when she was finally free of the other Navy personnel.
“Hey Morning,” he greeted her with the new pet name he gave her.
Her cheeks flushed from ivory to rose, “I though I told you not to call me that in public Timothy.”
“Then when can I call you-,” he was cut off by her hand covering his mouth.
“Come on. I need to check your bandages,” she giggled.
“You changed them before the ceremony,” his muffled voice said from behind her hand.
“Well… I think they need changed again,” she said with a wink.
With a chuckle McGee let her guide him to the parking lot.
“How the hell does he do it?” DiNozzo asked in disbelief.
“Do what?” David asked following his line of sight.
“That,” he pointed to the closing door that lead to the parking lot, “Get such a hottie. Even if she is a Vampire.”
“Not everything is about looks to women you know Tony,” she pointed out.
“Most of the time it is. This is simply an anomaly,” he shook his head.
Once they rushed back to Johnson’s apartment, she sat McGee down on the couch and got the gauze for his bite.
“But I though…,” McGee looked confused.
“Oh it is. But you still need looked at, and for the next three weeks, I’ll be your nurse,” she said sitting down beside him.
“But the doctor said I’ll be healed up within a couple days,” one of McGee’s eyebrows rose.
“I’ll be off for three weeks and so will you. I convinced your director that these kinds of wounds take… time to heal. I told him that three weeks is perfect and that I’ll be off from the Navy anyway cause our next deployment isn’t until July,” she explained, “Now, take your clothes off,” she purred in his ear.
“Does it really require for all my clothes to be off?” he smiled.
“With Nurse Amelia it does,” she straddled his hips and began unbuttoning his shirt.
Giving in, McGee took her face in his hands and pressed his mouth to hers.
Gender: Unspecified Location: Your mom's basement.
Sequal
Prologue
Lieutenant Commander Amelia Johnson inserted her keys into her Washington, D.C. apartment as quietly as possible so as not to disturb Mrs. O’ Neil, her batty old neighbor who has had a thing against the Lieutenant Commander since she first stepped foot in the building. Although she was a Vampire in the Navy, Johnson still had trouble getting by the 75 year old woman with a vendetta against Magicks. As soon as she pushed opened the door, Mrs. O’ Neil bespectacled head popped through her doorway at the end of the hall.
“I found your latest victim!” her screech stopped LTCR Johnson in her tracks.
“I haven’t eaten all month. I’m not due to do so until next week,” she smiled sweetly.
“Then how do you explain the dead raccoon behind the dumpster?” Mrs. O’ Neil shrieked.
“Please, Mrs. O’ Neil. It’s late and you don’t really want to wake the whole building up do you?” Johnson pleaded.
“Don’t play coy with me! You’re a murderer! A sicko! They should lock you up for good!” the old woman continued even when Johnson had shut and locked the door to her apartment.
With a heavy sigh, she shed her long trench coat and flipped on the television. Just as she poured herself a glass of iced tea, a tiny blip from her computer told her that her one and only was awake.
‘Rough day?’ his IM said.
‘You don’t know the half of it, sweetie,’ she typed with a little smile.
‘Wanna talk about it?’ he sent with a little smile face.
‘Are there any flies?’ she asked, meaning if anyone was listening or watching.
‘Not unless they’ve bugged my apartment. Lol,’ he typed his fingers almost as fast as hers.
‘Okay. Webcam, please?’ she typed.
A second later a little window with her love, Special Agent Timothy McGee, in it popped up.
“So then… tell me all about it,” he said.
“Well, I just got home and right as I was opening the door, Mrs. O’ Nutjob pops out to accuse me of dead raccoons,” she said.
“Again?” one of his eyebrows rose in suspicion.
“Yeah,” she took a sip of tea to calm herself, “the garbage men run over them every week and, of course, I’m the one blamed.”
“What’s her problem with you anyway?” McGee asked.
“I have no clue, sweetheart. All I know is something attacked her and her husband when she was young. Like our age young,” she said with a sigh.
LTCR Johnson leaned back in her chair with the glass in her hand.
“Is that some of your Aunt’s Iced Tea?” he asked.
“Yeah, she came over to visit while you were busy in Tampa,” she smiled.
“Well, at least you had your Aunt Kay to keep you company while I had to listen to Tony describe to me and Ziva all the Rambo movies,” he rolled his blue-grey eyes.
“Awww. Does Timmy need me to come over and drive the psychological disturbances from his mind?” she purred setting down the glass.
“Or you could help from here,” he smiled.
“As you wish, Special Agent,” she smiled back, showing the fangs that set her apart from every other tenant in her building.
She stood from her chair and retreated to the bedroom to change into something more suitable for her geeky, NCIS agent boyfriend.
“And does this suit thee well?” she asked sporting a sexy lingerie getup he bought her for Christmas.
McGee took a long look at her slender figure with a gulp, “It does.”
With a giggle she sat back down and let her silver-blonde hair fall over her shoulders, “And what does my Special Agent want me to do?”
McGee’s eyes widened, “To turn around.”
“What?” she asked caught a little off guard.
“Turn around Amelia! Someone’s there with you!” he shouted.
LTCR Johnson turned around in time for a bat to crash into her head, knocking her unconscious.
“Amelia? Amelia!” McGee shouted as he watched the black figure drag her away before picking up his cell phone to call the only person he knew who could help.
Gender: Unspecified Location: Your mom's basement.
Ch. 1
“Are you sure we should really be doing this?” Mussad Officer Ziva David asked as she and Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo sat at McGee’s computer.
“He isn’t Gibbs. He won’t know we were here,” DiNozzo dismissed.
“He’ll find out one way or another,” David whispered.
“Find out what, David?” Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs asked as he walked between the desks to get to his own across from McGee’s.
“Uh, nothing, Boss. We were just checking up on McGee,” DiNozzo explained nervously.
“Gear up, we got a case,” Gibbs said ignoring DiNozzo’s lame-ass excuse.
“Really? Where?” DiNozzo asked as he dashed to grab his pack from under his desk.
“Lieutenant Commander Amelia Johnson’s,” Gibbs said.
DiNozzo and David stopped in their tracks.
“Is everything alright?” David asked her partner.
“I don’t know. Could explain why McGeek hasn’t shown up for work,” DiNozzo replied.
“Now!” Gibbs shouted from the elevator.
At Amelia Johnson’s apartment they found McGee already inside taking photographs of the scene before him. When he looked up from his camera, David and DiNozzo could see that his eyes were red.
“What happened?” David asked.
“Amelia was kidnapped,” he whispered hoarsely.
“I’m so sorry Probie,” DiNozzo said clapping a hand on McGee’s shoulder. “There’s other fish in the sea.”
“He said she’s been kidnapped, not murdered DiNozzo,” Gibbs walked in holding his morning coffee.
“Right, Boss. Begin processing the scene,” DiNozzo said aloud the unspoken command.
“Start in the alleyway, the kidnapper could have been parked out there and left on the fire escape,” McGee said.
David and DiNozzo looked from one another to Agent Gibbs.
“You heard him. Start in the alley,” Gibbs ordered, “Hey McGee.”
McGee turned back to computer where he last saw Johnson.
“McGee,” Gibbs repeated, “Go get some coffee. This’ll all still be here when you get back.”
“Boss I-,” he began, “I’m just worried we’ll be too late.”
“Hey,” Gibbs smacked McGee on the back 0f the head to focus him, “Don’t ever have doubt. Ever.”
“Yes, Boss,” McGee handed over the camera before walking out the door as he rubbed his head.
Meanwhile, thirty miles away in an old Army Bunker, LTCR Johnson was just waking up from taking a bat to her head. When she tried to open her mouth or even move, she found herself taped and tied from head-to-toe to a rickety old chair. From the smell she could tell she was underground but she couldn’t tell how far. From the feel of things, nothing was broken but her head was pounding like nobody’s business. With a groan she strained against the rope and duct tape around her wrists to no avail.
“Ahh. You’re awake,” a voice said.
From a dark corner in the room she saw a man step from the shadows, his face obscured by a ski mask.
“It’s no use to struggle Lieutenant Commander,” the voice behind the mask said, “Negatoralis is abundant in these hills. You’re completely powerless.”
Back at NCIS headquarters, McGee repeated his eyewitness account to Gibbs for the thousandth time.
“Like I said. She had just gotten in from duty and was telling me about her day,” he repeated.
“And you were actually listening?” DiNozzo asked in disbelief.
“You’d be surprised how interesting she could be,” McGee turned and told off his colleague.
“Yeah, for a female Navy Lieutenant Commander,” DiNozzo chuckled before he saw the look in his superior officer’s eye and stopped, “We found nothing but a horde of dead raccoons and a lot of beer bottles in the alleyway, Boss.”
“Okay, McGee. Take Amelia’s personal effects and computer down to Abby,” Gibbs stood and walked up the steps that led to Director Vance’s office.
“Uh oh,” David said.
“Uh oh, what uh oh?” DiNozzo asked.
“Ever since McGee and Amelia have been going out, Abby has been like a cold dish towards him,” she explained.
“You mean ‘a cold fish’, Ziva. And why? She never had any interest in McProbie,” DiNozzo watched McGee walk by carrying the crate of the Lieutenant Commander’s things towards the elevator.
Ziva let out a laugh once McGee was out of range, “You really don’t see it?”
“See what?” DiNozzo asked, “What?!”
Gender: Unspecified Location: Your mom's basement.
Ch. 3
The journey through the American wilds was a treacherous one. The Young family had to make their way through many old cities and abandoned towns from the 21st century. It was made even more difficult with them having to hull around the CryoChamber holding the reincarnation of Jesus Christ himself. It wasn’t a very large one, but the extra space it took to keep it secured in the back of one of the two large 16 wheelers they drove. Faye and Angus rode in the front truck while one of their twin sons rode behind them in a modified Hummer, and the other twin navigated the other 16 wheeler. Music blared from the front 16 wheeler that could be heard from miles around, scaring the wildlife and alerting Magicks of their procession.
“Ang! Do you think the music’s too loud!?” Faylene shouted over the bass line.
“There’s no such thing!” he shouted back with a smile.
“I concur, Dad,” Ronald Belford Young called over the CB radio sitting atop the dashboard.
“How dare you steal my line,” Jonathan Matthew Young’s voice said next.
“You wanna go?” Ron, also known as Bon to his friends and family, challenged.
“Bring it on little brother,” John retorted.
“That’s enough boys,” Faye ordered, “I know you’re all a little cranky, but we only have a few more miles to go.”
“Where are we stopping? France?” Bon asked.
“There’s a trail leading up the mountains we’re gonna be taking. But first we’ll stop and rest in a nearby town,” Angus reported.
“So let’s kick things into gear and get a move on!” Bon exclaimed.
“By the Gods this is boring,” John called out five minutes later.
“‘By the Gods?’ Who the **** says that?” Bon laughed.
“Your Aunt Kay,” Faye replied in a somewhat solemn voice.
The trip from then on was quiet except for the pounding music that still filled their ears. It had been years since they last saw the Crosby’s, being they were on the run. After the second attempt at Romanis’ assassination, the Crosby’s went into hiding, taking only what they needed to survive the wild’s they lived in. For the next few minutes, all was quiet through out the trucks. The only sound rushing by their hypersensitive ears being the sound of the guitar solo Angus had recorded over 300 years prior, the hot, dry wind, and the distant towns miles behind and ahead of them.
“Hey, why don’t we play a game?” John suggested in order to release the tension they all felt.
“Sure, what do you have in mind?” Bon asked trying to be sarcastic but the tone of his voice was too flat.
“How about the quiet game?” John said and a series of groans followed.
Pop. The little tension bubble went as the Young family protested against on of the twins favorite games.
* * *
“How do things look out there?” Grey asked as he joined Mike on the cliff face.
“Quiet. Like they always do,” the Welsh kid replied.
“Okay, just let us know when the lights go out,” Grey said.
He stood as carefully as he dared to keep the loose rocks from falling down the mountain face and alerting the Sentries floating dangerously close bellow them and walked over to the rest of the crew he and Mike brought along.
“How are things looking over here?” he asked Riley.
“Fine, we’re all set,” she said without looking up from the stew she was cooking over the smokeless fire, a Faylene Young invention.
‘Faye… I wonder how they’re all doing…,’ he thought before he could stop himself.
It had been three years since their attempt to take Romanis down failed miserably in Romanis’ stronghold in Paris. Since then, the members of the Resistance recruited by Kyrie Crosby have lived in seclusion. They moved from place to place but always keeping near or in the mountain chain that now ran completely around the world, thanks to Jack, the nickname they gave to the black boy with green eyes who was really Jesus Christ.
‘Dammit, there I go again,’ he scolded himself for delving on the past.
In order to stop the memories full of pain and sorrow from taking over like they have so many times before, Grey walked over to the small cave set in the mountain face and lit a cigarette. As he took a long drag on the smoking stick, he let out a small chuckle as he remembered the stories of how these things used to cause millions of deaths each year.
“There used to be these TV commercials that advertised the ‘Truth about smoking’. Some of the claims were outrageous! But all true,” Kay’s voice floated through his mind.
Another drag from the cigarette manufactured to calm one’s nerves and release tension and the voice quieted to a gentle hum that Grey barely noticed. He did notice, however, when he tasted only the filter after the medicinal herbs wrapped in the paper burned away to nothing but ashes on his dark jeans.
“Hey, we’re ready to go,” Mike called from his vantage point.
When Grey looked up from the mouth of the cave, he saw the sky was now dark and the lights below in the small mountain town all out except for those of the Sentries that patrolled the streets.
“Okay… let’s get this over with,” Grey stood and pulled the ParaGear from his pack.
With one final look over to his team, Grey kicked off from the cliff they were all perched on and flew downward at speeds intended to kill a normal person. But with the ParaGear, he knew everything was fine, so he let the wind whip back the growing black hair that usually hang over his eyes. And for the briefest of moments, he forgot completely about the Resistance and Romanis as he just… let… go….
Gender: Unspecified Location: Your mom's basement.
Ch. 15
“No, stop it. Go away!” Romanis shouted.
Although his father was in the Earth realm now, the voices hadn’t subsided, they only grew in number. They whispered to him at all hours, telling him to do or say things, in his dreams he dreamt they were real people who had died at his hand many years ago. They accused him of their deaths and the death of so many others. Old… young… Magick… mortal… rich… poor…. They all came… their voices grew louder and louder until it drowned out the sounds of his concerned staff. They had seen their leader like this once before, when he first took power over the UESC, but then he only would answer an unspoken question or comment. It drove him mad… but not like this… this was something else.
“You’re all scum of the Earth! Unfit to walk amongst us! I did us all a favor by killing you,” he bellowed.
The pain… make it stop… so much pain….
It’s so cold… please… help us….
Some of the voices were in languages he didn’t understand even though he knew all of Earth’s languages. They sounded like a mix of all the languages while others were in some ancient dialect that belonged to the original Magick’s. A language created by the Elders and Gods long ago to convey their power. Romanis let out a long and painful moan as the voices finally subsided for a while.
“Sir, is everything okay?” the voices of his guards called out.
“Tell then you’re alright and to go back to their duties,” Lucifer whispered into his ear.
But Romanis simply lay their face down on the Oriental rug that adorned his private chambers. The young child that was Lucifer wrinkled his nose in disgust at the pathetic heap he called his son on the floor.
“Everything’s fine! Go back to your duties!” he called out in Romanis’ voice.
“But sir…,” one of the guards protested.
“NOW!” he bellowed in an otherworldly voice.
“Father why aren’t they going away?” the real Romanis groaned.
“They will in time, once you eliminate the rest of their kind,” Lucifer promised.
Of course his promise was a complete lie but he needed the sniveling creature of his son in order to complete his plan. For now he let Romanis lay on the floor as the voices became quieter and quieter for the time being. Once they became nothing but a low wine in the back of his head, Romanis finally picked himself up and sat in one of the chairs. Lucifer slowly walked over to the adjacent chair and climbed onto the centaur leather all while keeping a careful eye on his son.
“They’re getting stronger, the Resistance. We must crush them as soon as possible,” Romanis said from behind his hands.
“I agree, that is why I sent a mole,” Lucifer replied.
“A mole? Where?” the President asked.
“To the Resistance. He was able to win over some of their members and infiltrate his way into their ranks. I just sent a party to retrieve them,” he said with a nonchalant wave of his fragile hand.
“Then let’s go, I want to be there to kill them all myself,” Romanis snarled.
“No, they’re being brought back here so we can squeeze as much information from them as possible. Remember, they aren’t the only group of Magicks bent on our destruction,” Lucifer waggled a delicate ivory finger.
After a second to think things over, Romanis gave a small nod and he retreated to his bed where his wife Dalia Ibelhauptaite, known in scripture as the Whore of Babylon, lay. With a sigh, Romanis joined her and drifted into a sleep filled with nightmares about the Resistance overthrowing him and retaking the world.
* * *
“What do you think we should call him?” Piggle asked as she and a few others set up for dinner.
“Who?” Riley asked carrying a pot of fish stew over to the table.
“The boy. You know… the Jesus kid,” she whispered.
“Oh… I dunno,” she replied.
“Jack… they called me… Jack,” the boy suddenly appeared carrying a stack of napkins and silverware.
“Where at, hun?” Piggle asked.
“On my way here… I didn’t really have a name… so the people I traveled with… nicknamed me… Jack,” he said with deliberateness.
“Why do you speak slowly like that?” John asked.
“I was at the bottom of the… Mediterranean… for 200 years… I’m still getting used to… breathing real… air,” he answered.
“Wow,” Riley muttered as she set the pot of stew on the table.
As they watched him go on his way, the members of the Resistance held a new respect for the child they knew as Jack, but was really the key to their victory.
Gender: Unspecified Location: Your mom's basement.
Prologue
I can’t help but think of Auschwitz every time I look at these walls; especially when I look into the eyes of my fellow inmates. Although I was not there myself, many of my friends were there and at the time of the Holocaust I was spending my time in the Eastern Alps. But the reason I am reminded of Auschwitz is not simply because of the horrific conditions, the inspiration for the lovely design for Marko Romanis’ Moon based prison came from the hellhole itself and is named after one of its subcamp: Leslau.
Right now all is quiet in the barracks and the sky outside is dark. Then again… it’s always dark. Since Leslau is based on the Moon orbiting the planet Earth, which has no atmosphere of its own yet, is caught in a forever nighttime, we judge our days on the temperature. Most of the time it’s cold, but for three of the twenty-four hours that make up a day, the air gets even colder. The times when it gets colder than cold, around -150 ° Celsius I believe, is when we sleep. Or at least that’s when we’re supposed to sleep.
For those of us Magicks who can afford to go without sleep, we spend the coldest of cold hours strategizing, doing business, gossiping or simply thinking. That’s what I’m doing right now; thinking. It’s the best thing to keep you preoccupied when things around you are particularly nasty, thinking. Many of us are able to escape into our own minds as they force their work on us. Moving rocks, digging holes, building new sheds, repairing old ones, fixing whatever they throw at us; you name it, we do it.
As I lay on my crowded cot and only half-listen to the conversations above, below and on both sides of me, I feel my throat swell uncomfortable against the collar as I think of the green hills and blue oceans below us in my home land. I try to swallow and use a finger to adjust the horrible metal device placed around all of our necks to make the feeling pass, but my throat only bets worse.
‘Stop it. Not now. Not ever,’ I scolded myself, ‘You must never cry. One day… one day….’
After a few deep breaths that shredded my overused lungs with the icy razors that coated the air, the feeling finally released its grip on my throat. I used to cry a lot when I first came here, but then I had a vision of my mother, long ago lost to the burners on the other side of Leslau. She told me to not worry and that a group called the Resistance will free us all one day. She didn’t say when or how only that I’ll know beforehand when it happens.
The temperature on my skin warmed ever so slightly and the deep, dark shadow that shrouded us uncovered to reveal another shadow only a fraction lighter than before….
Gender: Unspecified Location: Your mom's basement.
Ch. 1
“The line seems shorter than usual today, huh Enya?” Jerome, an American troll, commented as I stood in line.
I looked down into his earthy eyes and nodded, “It means we’re receiving another shipment,” I confirmed.
“I wonder if there’ll be any Americans… or even any trolls,” the young troll pondered scratching his tangled beard.
I smiled and ruffled his bird’s nest of hair, “You’ll just have to wait and see, Jerome.”
Ahead of me I saw the twins talking in their hushed Romanian voices so low that not even I could catch the gist of their conversation. The twins were Anastasia Johnson and Faylene Young, both incredibly gorgeous and married. Not to mention ancient… almost as ancient as me ancient. They were originally born in the 1970’s to InuYasha and Sora Shenron but had to go through a reverse aging stage in order to protect their charge, the reincarnation of the Greek Goddess-Muse Kyrie Crosby. Years ago they were captured, along with their husbands and children, and brought here to be watched over closely by Romanis himself.
A lot of the other prisoners joke that I could be a long lost sibling to the Shenron twins, the only problem being I’m much older than even their mother and father combined. Although I don’t look like it, naturally, I am 2151 years old and the last of my tribe. The last person to die from Aidan was my cousin Branden who was taken to the burners when his arms finally gave out on him seven months ago. At first I thought it was going to be like when the news hit me of another member of my tribe being taken away… but for some reason the tears refused to flow. As I stared up at the chimney dumping its contents into the giant glass bubble to be filtered and turned into breathable air, I felt hollow.
“Good morning, Enya,” Ronan said to me as he passed.
“Good morning, Ronan,” I responded, once again being ripped from my thoughts.
Like me, Ronan was an Irish Vampire, but unlike me, he wasn’t forced to do the bidding of Romanis’ men. Because he was able to bargain and reason without the aid of the Mesmer, Ronan had been able to climb his way up and become a guard. Instead of the freezing temperatures we were subsequent to, he lived in a cozy one room cabin and fed three times a day. Many of us other inmates envied him but kept on his good side just in case.
“Here’s an extra blood sausage from my breakfast. You know how we need more blood than the norm,” he slipped the wrapped piece of gold into my pocket.
“Thanks,” I murmured as my cheeks turned red.
I let my silver curtain of hair slide in front of my face to hide my chagrin. For some reason, ever since Ronan walked off the C. Pod and onto the surface of the moon, he had had his eye on me. Now that he held a position of power within the walls of Leslau, he frequently went out of his way to give me the best possible treatment. This of course, led to more jokes being passed around the barracks at my expense. After he noticed the red in my face, he smiled and walked away to take post by one of the buildings.
“Stand straight! Remove your shirt!” I was ordered.
Before every mean they make us stand straight as a board and remove our shirts to inspect us for any frost bite or sores and our shirts are combed over for any parasites and diseases. If you even have the smallest patch of frost growing on you or the most insignificant disease is detected on your shirt, you’re immediately carted off to the ovens. I stood straight and stared ahead at nothing in particular as I undid the buttons of my shirts.
My eyes automatically and unwillingly darted over to Ronan leaning against the wall of a barrack and saw a tiny smile on his face as my bare flesh was revealed. I forced my eyes to look ahead of me at a star peaking over the horizon as I waited for the inspection to be over. As usual, my shirt was returned and I quickly covered myself before taking my cup of soup and loaf of bread. The soup they give us is vegetable and it’s served to us in metal cups that come with lids. Most of the lids don’t completely cover the cups, some are too small while others are too small and still others are warped from overuse, but today I was lucky enough to receive one that snapped securely to my cup.
After taking a tiny sip of the soup to warm me a little, I slipped it and the bread into my pocket for safe keeping. As I passed Ronan on my way to the job board to hunt down my number and job for the next 21 hours, I saw a full out smile on his face and a twinkle in his icy blue eyes.
“Did you enjoy the show?” I asked in a sarcastic tone.
“Possibly,” he replied.
“Too bad it’s only a once a day gig,” I said.
“I’d be happy to make it a twice a day thing,” he said in a low voice.
“Play your cards right,” I said looking him up and down, “we’ll see.”
And so was the normal morning routine. A greeting from Ronan, followed by the inspection, and then the witty banter. Throughout the day I saw him far off but not so far off or well hidden that I didn’t miss his presence. This fine day I was chosen to put new roofing on one of the new wings of the hospital. Below me I saw him standing there as I hammered away at the tin. Beside me Angus Young set the pieces in place and held them there as I inserted the nails and brought the hammer down to secure the nail with a single blow.
“After centuries of innovation and millions spent each year to develop new materials you’d think they would put some of it to good use instead of making us sleep under tin,” he said to me.
“Man is certainly not a species who likes to change their routine,” I smiled, “Trust me.”
Gender: Unspecified Location: Your mom's basement.
Ch. 2
After the roofing was done on the new wing, we were sent over to the small crater than acted like a resting hole as we waited for the next job. Some collapsed in a heap on the ground while others like myself sat one the ring of the crater and watched the new shipment of prisoners roll in. The oversized C. Pods flew in through the port above us and made their way over to the “sanitation house”. There they would be examined thoroughly and registered. Those considered too weak for work were put into the burners; those who were considered too dangerous to interact with the other prisoners were put into isolation, or like the twins partial isolation; and those who were fit as a fiddle were brought out here to join us in our fruitless efforts to please the President.
“I hear talk that Resistance is planning an uprising,” a voice I knew all too well said from beside me.
“Let’s hope they succeed this time,” I said without taking my eyes off the transport.
“You up for that next gig?” Ronan asked, I heard the smile in his voice.
“Don’t get your hopes up. You and I both know that there’s far too much work for that,” I smiled back at him.
“Tease,” he accused jokingly.
“Alright you little daemons, get off your asses and get a move on!” the shrill shout of one of Romanis’ SS guards hit us like a ton of bricks.
“See you later then,” I said with one last look into his icy blue eyes that seemed to glow in the reflection the thick layer of dust that covered the moons surface gave off.
After helping some of the weaker members of my work team out of the crater, we followed the guard to our next station. The events proceeding our transfer were the same as before. I hammered the nails into the tin as Angus held it in place; hold, insert nail, hammer, hold, insert nail, hammer, and rinse and repeat until your row was done. Every once in a while a gunshot would hit your ears and reverberate throughout your chest as you hoped that the poor soul who was shot wasn’t of your friends or family. Just as I finished off the last of our nails, a group of prisoners being led by some SS guards came around the corner.
“New meat,” I heard someone say.
You could tell they were freshly transferred into our lovely camp because A: they looked frightened out of their wits; B: their clothes were intact; and C: they lacked the fine sheen of lunar regolith that covered inhabitant of Leslau inside and out. I set my hammer down and took out my loaf of bread, about the size and thickness of a small paperback book, and ripped off a piece with my teeth. As I ignored the pain that came from the hard kernels of wheat cutting my mouth to shreds, I strained to listen to the conversation at hand below us. When I took a quick glance around I noticed many other doing the same, some not even finished with half of their row yet.
“We have a new transport of prisoners,” one of the guards reported.
“From where?” the other asked.
“America. I rebel group was found in the Rocky Mountains building weapons,” the first guard read.
‘Looks like Jerome got his wish,’ I thought as a mouthful of bread went down hard and hit my stomach with a thunk!
After coughing up a layer of regolith that coated my bread I laid back and looked up at the clear glass dome that separated us from the vacuum of space. High above the many buildings covering the area once known to astronomers and lunar scientists of the old times as Mare Frigoris, the Sea of Cold, I spied the sentries that scanned the area around us and used their thermo imaging cameras to keep track of our heat signatures. No doubt the inmates showed up a frigid shade of blue while the SS were a toasty red.
“Get back to work you daemons!” one of the guards looked up and noticed the lack of hammering on our behalf.
Without hesitation he drew his pitol and fired a round at the tin roofing causing a shower of sparks to spray us, setting some on fire and causing others to fall off the roof. Below us the new peisoners jumped as if he were shooting at them and cowered in fear.
‘There’s no way these cowards could be building weapons,’ I thought suspiciously.
I then realized that it was yet another case of the SS exagerating the charges in order to send them our way. After brushing some of the slag left behind from the molten metal shower, I picked up my hammer and began heling to repair the now rather large hole in the roof we were building.
“I feel sorry for the poor bastards they just brought in,” Angus whispered as he held a fresh piece of tin in place.
Gender: Unspecified Location: Your mom's basement.
Ch. 3
“When imma walkin I strut my stuff and I am so strung out/I’m high as a kite and I just might stop to check you out/Lemme go oooon/Like a blister in the sun/Lemme go oooooon/Big hands I know you’re the one,” the Romanian voice of Anastasia Johnson hit my ears as I stood behind our barrack and smoked on of the cigarettes given to us.
Long ago in the days before Romanis’ tyranny, the UESC outlawed tobacco, leaving many nicotine addicted citizens to revolt and produce their own cigarettes much like the 1920’s American Prohibition on alcohol. This prompted scientists to come up with an alternative, and to do so they thought of the early centuries before conventional cigarettes that held many toxins and nasties in order to preserve them. The first thing that came to mind was how the Native American used tobacco for medicinal purposes and after many studies, they found that the burning of smoked and dried out tobacco was actually beneficial to ones health. So they marketed the “new” tobacco cigarettes that you rolled yourself in biodegradable paper.
But why stop there? They thought. So after many more tests and studies and experiments, they discovered that you could dry out and smoke just about any herb to extract the many different medicinal properties. And once the bill allowing geneticists to break down the genome of plants and animals, much to the dismay of PETA and other tree huggers, they were able to further the medication released into the systems by smoking the different herbs. For example, smoking a cigarette made of thyme will amplify the herb’s ability to heal and sooth a cough or even bronchitis.
A miracle!!! They proclaimed, Revolutionary!!! A way to not only soothe the angry cries of the nicotine addicts but shoot a major dose of adrenaline into the medical community. Soon they were coming out with new medicines by doing what the original tobacco companies did and thought way back to the olden days. Soon they had new and improved antibiotics, stronger painkillers that didn’t cause the user to become dependent and new machines that were able to kill off tumors or seal an internal wound without having to make an incision.
“Who sang that song again?” Anna’s twin asked.
“Violent Femmes,” she laughed. “You should know. We toured with them.”
“Let’s keep it that way,” Faye said.
Anna stuck her delicate pink tongue out between her full, red lips and Faye retorted by baring her razor sharp fangs. I allowed a small smile as I stubbed out the spent cigarette on the wall behind me before I walked through the trash heap that surrounded the barracks to make my way back to the crater. Even though it was supposed to be lights out, many restless prisoners still roamed the grounds careful not to be caught by the SS. If one of the guards were to catch you and you didn’t have enough to pay them off with or they were in a mood for blood splattering, you were a goner.
As I walked the collar around my neck gave a hum and a squeeze, something that happens quite frequently but is easily ignored, out of habit I stuck a finger between the metal and my neck to ease the tension. The collars were designed by a scientist to keep the animals Romanis had trained for searching out Magicks in line and constantly obedient. Then an SS guard had the wonderful idea to place the collars around the prisoners’ necks to keep them in line. With a sigh I vowed to personally kill the one to come up with that brilliant notion.
Then something went wrong…. The usual low hum of voices that was the connection I had with all the prisoners in the back of my mind was suddenly silent. I stopped in my tracks and looked around but nothing could be seen for miles except trash cast aside in steaming heaps until the incinerator was finished. Carefully so as not to alert anyone to my location, I made my way up one of the piles to see above the sea of trash. Once I could make out the entire camp, I saw everything was quiet… it was like no one was there.
“Hello?” I projected my internal voice across the camp, “Is anyone there? What’s happening?”
But no reply was returned. Feeling panicked, I tried to stand to my full height atop the pile of garbage but felt a pull at my arm before I could to do. I looked to see what my arm was caught on only to look into ice.
“Ronan,” I whispered in relief, “What’s going on?”
“The Romans finally got their Blocker up and running. Everyone else is asleep,” he explained in a hushed tone, “Come on down before a Sentry sees us.”
He held my wrist as we descended and continued to hold it as he guided me through the maze towards his cabin. Once we were safely inside and the door was locked we stood in the entryway to his cabin, his hand still wrapped around my wrist. After a few tense moments, he released his grip on me seemingly hesitantly and afterwards my skin felt icy cold without his warm touch to warm it. It was only then that I realized the situation I was in. Secured in a guard’s cabin all alone; even if the guard was of the same species as me, he was a guard all the same. Although we exchanged friendly talk and witty banter day after day, I still felt he was unable to be trusted for he was too close to the SS Guards for comfort.
I slowly and deliberately made my way to an opposite wall and sat on the floor, not really feeling the warmth from the heater, to think… a real heater. One of his dark eyebrows rose at my careful actions and my never taking my eyes off him.
“You don’t have to be afraid you know,” he said walking over to me.
“You’re one of them,” I said simply.
“No, I’m one of you,” he said pulling the long shirt sleeve from his left arm to reveal the number imprinted onto his skin like the rest of us.
I saw the number clearly and instantly had it memorized. 171568. Despite his trustworthy attitude and the pleading look in his eyes, I still felt wary. With a groan of frustration, he kneeled by me and took my face in his hands.
“Look, you and I are the only Irish Vampires left here in Leslau, the last batch of Incineraries held about six of them. I checked the records over and over again,” he said, “There are only two Vampires left that are of the Irish species. And they’re both in this room right now. You know firsthand how close we stick together in tribes, but now that both of our tribes are gone, we need to stick together. I may be a guard, but I’ll be damned to the deepest pit of hell before I give either of us up.”
Okay I admit it, as much as I’d liked to have stayed true to my notion, this speech of his got to me. It wasn’t just words that burned me though; it was his eyes connected to mine and his hands clasping my face securely. He really meant it.
“Let me see your arm,” I said finally.
He removed his hands from my face, once again my skin felt frozen after his touch left me, and held out his arm. I gently took his arm and pulled the sleeve away from the number once more and examined the numbers.
“171568,” I said with a sigh, “You’re a powerful man, Ronan.”
“How so?” he asked.
“My people created the very first numerological chart. The numbers are separated into three different aspects of your personality,” I explained.
“Go on,” he urged sitting on the floor.
“17. It is broken down into 1 and 7. One stands for the individual, and seven stands for thought or consciousness. So you are very self aware of not only your surroundings but of yourself and how you stand in the eyes of others,” I continued.
I let one finger trace over the 17 to highlight it.
“15. This is broken into 1 and 5. Again, one means the individual while the five stands for action this time. You’re anxious about the situation you’re in and you want to do something about it,” I said tracing the 15.
Ronan squirmed slightly in his spot on the soft rug we were on.
“And finally 68. The six means responsibility and the eight for power. You hold a great responsibility and that comes with power. The power to oppress, the power to change,” I concluded as my finger traced over the 68.
“Huh,” he said.
“All in all, you’re very powerful, and although you don’t know what you must do to begin the change, you’re anxious to so something and will be more than ready to participate in the change if not lead it,” I said.
“What does yours mean?” he asked without removing his arm from my grip and taking my numbered arm with his other hand.
“170258. The 17 is like yours, I am very self aware. The 0 and the 2 stands for complete balance and harmony between myself and other. And the 58 means I have power and am anxious to use it,” I explained.
“I guess it’s true what they say,” he said more to himself, “The Irish are a very significant part of life.”
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Jun 4th, 2009 06:44 AM
