Wishes And Dust - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Seven Souls

“I'll never understand your choice in women, brother.” Zekial stood above Bradley. Bradley rolled to his side and nuzzled into Rachel's neck before opening his left eye to see who spoke. “You going to get off my sister and put some pants on or am I going to have to do that?”

Bradley rolled onto the floor in a near panic. He crouched low and predator-like. The sheet he used to sleep under was just barely covering his manhood.

“Celeste, are you a hallucination?” Bradley stood to full length. Acting content in knowing his boxer briefs were at Zeke's feet.

“Right now, I wish I was,” Zeke looked down to not see Bradley's full frame and saw the black underwear Bradley did not have on. He slid them to his cell-brother's feet. “Please put those on before I poke my eyes out.” Bradley did so but had the smirk of knowing his anatomical superiority.

He also pulled on his black Cargo pants.

“So you're not a figment or some something like that?”

“You've been seeing things too, huh?” Zeke lit a cigarette and handed it to Bradley as they stepped out of the room.

“No but I saw you dead and the dead always come back to haunt me, it seems.” Bradley wiggled his toes at the cold cement ground.

“Yeah, about that, it took me three months to heal up after that…” Zeke and Bradley did not want to bring up the old business of Bradley slicing through Zeke' eyes.

“I'm sorry for what its worth.”

“It's worth nothing. Look, we have to find out those seven people in the next three hours.”

“Then I'm going to need some coffee.”

“The first one's name is Godric Valentine, age 17. He's a runaway living underneath the streets of London,” Zekial spoke aloud to Rune, Rachel, Nicholette and Avatar; they were supposed to be the rest of Children of Liberty but they had prior engagements. Zeke turned to the large monitor in the conference room at West Point. “Bradley, how's it hanging down there?”

“It smells like teen spirit and sushi down here!” Bradley laughed but the narrow passageways and the raw sewage underneath made him feel uneasy about entering the Alley.

He left the Swamps, the rather large tunnels, and came to a door. The door had the outline of light in the medieval darkness. He reached out, the camera attached to his earpiece shook along with his body, out of fear that this mission will turn out just like every other one in his life and end with death and mayhem.

The twisted handle turned violently with Bradley's mundane strength.

The chaotic sounds of Juggalo Nation that beckoned the crowd into frenzy. They danced and roared along with the heavy remake of Angels Falling. The noise quieted as a gray-shrouded man stepped onto the catwalk above the amplifiers and speakers.

“Advention Day is upon us once more! This time it is my own. If Godric were strong enough to give a speech right now, he'd say that this is not just my day but a glorious day for all the Advented!”

“Where's Rachelle and Jericho?” A member of the crowd asked.

“They are with out sovereign in his chambers,” The man on the catwalk made a gesture to the door to the Bradley's loose left. “And with all three of them…” Bradley did not, nor could, listen to the ranting of the proud youth. He crept into the bulkhead that contained a room of their leader, Godric. It was too dark to make out a feature but something hit him to his knees as soon as he entered the dark chasm.

“Who are you, new-comer?” A bellowing voice asked from across the room.

“My name is Bradley Nephilim and I am here to speak with Godric alone.” The lights flashed on. The bellowing voice had come from a sickly teen on the bed. The person who hit Bradley still stood behind him and was the one called Jericho.

“You…!” Godric's face was ripe with vice and scarring. There was the click of a switchblade behind Bradley.

“Wait! I have not seen you before in my life! Why does everyone want me dead so quickly?” Bradley held his hands up.

“It was someone who shared your face and body who wounded him.” Rachelle stated; her tiny pubescent body curled next to Godric. Bradley's eyes bulged when he heard this.

“Where'd he come from?”

“Months ago, a man named Gespenst dropped him off. About two weeks ago, Gespenst came to take him away but the police barged in and…” Godric hacked.

“That was not I but a doppelganger of my shell.” Bradley could not hide the scars of fire from the fluorescent lighting, even under the long mats of hair.

“Where did you receive those?” Jericho asked, the knife disappearing up his sleeve.

“They were a gift from a friend.” Bradley then tightened his healing hands. “Godric, I am acting on behalf of Rune Grant. He wishes you to join a group for his war.”

“What I hear is that you want me to leave my people without a leader.”

Bradley smirked.

“There is a boy out there giving a speech that would inspire Hitler, and yet you say that they will be leaderless. He is ready for whatever it takes to succeed you.” Bradley was sick and tired of Godric's naïvity already.

“My people need a worthy fighter to protect them from the police.” Another chuckle escaped Bradley.

“That does bring us to the payment for helping us. Rune has procured a boat and the entire sewer network under New Amsterdam City to move the Alley so that he himself may make sure the police do not interfere.” Bradley sounded so official that he nearly gagged.

“Over ten runaways and orphans come to us a month and even more hear about us each day. We cannot leave them in London.”

“That is what the ship is for. Have your successor stay here and after a certain time, or whatever, have them sent to the vast NAC.” Godric began to stand, his silver cane now by his side.

“When will this be effective?” His eyes were low in pain, the charts and files Bradley had hacked into never mentioned any medical condition that Godric had.

“As soon as you sign on. Oh, and don't worry about those two. They can live in housing or something.”

“Let me say good bye to the Advented and then the four of us shall leave.” Godric kissed Rachelle on the cheek at her look of astonishment.

“I'll be waiting topside.”

“I'm going with you, Mister Nephilim,” Rachelle looked down as Godric tried to change her mind. “I'll be okay.”

At the surface, Bradley stretched and sneezed in the sunlight.

“You know, it's been three months and seventeen days since I have seen the Sun.” Rachelle had followed Bradley to the surface and she had a fairly normal complexion considering she was a child who had been underground for years.

“I hate to pry but what was your reason for going into the Alley?” Bradley honestly had no idea what to say to makes friends anymore.

“I went down there because of my mother,” Bradley had never heard that answer before. “My mother was a perverted old witch.” Rachelle looked passed the Sun.

“Look, I don't wish to hurt you but if there was a place like this back in the Colonies, I probably would be completely different.” Bradley had now that look in his eyes.

“Its okay. I've just never told anyone but Godric.”

“I'm sorry for bringing it up.”

“I told you it was fine. Why would you want to be in the Alley?”

“When I was about your age, my father raped my sister and beat me. I fled to a church with my sisters. Had I had a place like the Alley, I may have actually had a life.”

“I would have loved your life better than mine. My mother used to let her boyfriends have their way with me… I don't want to talk about it.” Bradley was always hearing things he's never heard before from Rachelle.

“Why on God's earth…?” The emerged Jericho and Godric cut his question short from the raunchy sewers.

“Let's go before I change my mind.”

*****

He twirled the ring in his fingers. There was no cure for the hole in his heart. He tried to fill that hole with order he caused by the Queen's commands. Too many times has this hole come back with the memories but a tangible object was the worst. That past, which he tried to hide in his broken mind, flooded back with seething pain.

His tower in the castle was a recent build but it made sure no light could penetrate the meditating beast. He placed on the ring, even though the floodgates would be wiped into oblivion.

The royal bedroom was far too red and pink for him to truly take his eyes up from his dark shoes. The Queen was asleep. He had no idea why he went into her room. It could have been the rising threat of the Colonies, or the fact that she reminded him of his daughter; he felt there would be an attempt on her life. He pulled up the same chair he had many times before and sat down staring deep into the sheets.

*****

“These two, I've decided to go after myself,” Zekial talked through a tape recorder that attached to the now standard earpiece. “These two are called the `Chaos and Mayhem Duet', Quentin Travers and Zylo Darkholmes. They are currently held up in an abandoned warehouse.” Zeke held his firearm low as he stalked into the warehouse. He made sure that his head turned down every crevice with his crosshairs in lead. He heard sounds of laughter and automatic gunfire. His head poked around the corner quickly.

The two men were smoking Nails cigarettes and drinking 40 oz. bottles of beer. Zeke knew all those facts by the smell of the smoke and the size of the bottles. It reminded him of the days before his life became war the days when there was a party at Alexander's every week. It was the fall of Rome on that gloomy day but Zeke had more fun with a gun in his hand than a bottle. Gradually, Zeke shuffled to a well-stacked pile of oil drums. He had no idea how to start a dialogue with two drunks with several armaments, more than what Zeke had brought.

“Hello.” Zylo pressed the barrel of a Colt Anaconda against Zeke's head. Zeke swore under his breath, stood and threw his gun away.

“Z, what have we got here?” Quentin asked, leaning on a crutch.

“My name is Zeke Celeste and I am here to ask the second greatest duo in the world to join in the Revolution.” Zylo and Quentin looked at each other.

“The SECOND greatest duo? Who are the first?” Quentin asked, raising his crutch.

“Funny side note, me and my friend Bradley are. And,” Zeke brought a gun from his belt's back. “What the hell do you think you are going to do? Blast me full of lead and then turn the crutch around and shoot me with a rocket?” Zeke had always wanted to see a crutch that would do that but sadly, that would probably never happen in his recent lifetime. Zylo holstered his gun and Quentin pulled the handlebar and the peg, normally adjusted to get the perfect height, shot out and hit Zeke's gun out of his hand.

“Zylo, have you ever heard of either of those two?” Quentin asked, retrieving the gun and the peg. “So, my monochromatic friend, what type of things will we be doing?”

“As part of the Gladiator Unit, you get a very nice paycheck and the ability to kill things without cops coming. Other than that, you get one wish from Rune… just make sure it's a material wish because its granted as soon as his job is done. Other than that do you really need a reason to kill some Brits?” Zeke's picked up his tossed aside gun and was handed his gun back from Quentin and waited.

“We'll join to prove that we are the greatest, not you and… Bartleby?”

“Bradley,” Zeke declared while walking out. “Follow, and may all your egos be denied.”

*****

Bradley walked through the side halls of the underground. He was tired of the simpletons trying to get a word from him. The only thing he truly wanted was to get acquainted with the Children of Liberty. Bradley entered their training room with Zeke nowhere in sight.

Avatar was busy lifting about five hundred pounds of dead weights. Nicholette and Rachel were sparring in a boxing ring and Rune was sitting there, enjoying the sport. Bradley decided to sit in the padded chair next to Rune.

“This is great, my saintly friend. I cannot lose with these people on my side.” Rune chugged a bottle of water.

“Rune, I remember you saying that there were seven members of your COL.”

“I do. Five of them are out running routine recruiting.” The last words were spoken over the sounds of laughter. Whoever they were, they were most definitely the referred last members. Bradley knew all the people who walked in.

The first was Dorian Skye; a genetic vampire created to attack Saint Beasts. The next was Dietrich `Mephisto' Courte, a German who defied the Fuhrer and actually joined a team ready and willing to kill the Alpha Beast. The slow frown of shock came to Bradley's face as he saw the dead Amara Derres walk through the door. She was killed, and undoubtedly turned, by the man she now made out with. The most deadly man to walk in was a man who only went by the title of his weapons, Harpoon. The final was unknown but the Grudge blood must have ran through him.

Bradley clenched his still-healing fist with the pain shooting. It sizzled up his arm, breaking at the shoulder. It was a course of magma with frore wings descending down his spine.

“We need a medic.”

Rune reached out for the falling Bradley before his voice died.

*****

Rachel was the one who went to grab Doctor Crystal for the Unit. Bradley was not opposed to the idea of having him on the force but Zeke found that it made him a bit uneasy. Rachel walked in casually, as per usual. She walked right into his basement exam room but was mortified to see the bleeding healer lying in a crushed mound of glass.

“MY GOD, DOC!” Rachel ran to his side.

“Sorry, no birth control today,” Doc Crystal tried a smirk but he gagged and spewed blood over Rachel, who panicked and tried to move him. “Don't worry, just grab some gauze, nothing bad can happen.” Doc hoisted himself so he was leaning more comfortably against the wall. His whole hand went for his sneakers, where he recalled the last resting spot for his custom shades.

Rachel was never good at first aid. Her knots were terrible and flimsy but they did as they were suppose to.

“Rune has the best medical staff. If you could get up then you can get better.” Crystal smiled, actually able to stop the blood from his mouth.

*****

“I need you to help me, my knight,” The Queen stared deep into his eyes for once. “Parliament has ordered my vote on the invasion of the Colonies.” What happened in his featureless face was that of devilish enjoyment.

“I know of one reason for all of this to even out.” His eyes went back to the ground.

“Sincere, though it is, I cannot be told what you wish to do.” Garnet worried while her sole warrior walked away with the gleam of the devil in his eyes.

“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” A member of parliament asked, motioning for one of the guards.

“I am here for several reasons but the main is the pressure you inflict on those who do not share your bloodlust. I am the only one willing to say this once: LEAVE THE COLONIES ALONE!” The twin voice startled the guard and before anyone could react the guard gripped his throat and fell to the floor. “What's the answer?”

“Bugger off, you brolly.” That sent the shiver of anticipation through the god of man. His blazing pistols embedded his roars in the annals of history. The massacre was the thing that made him reclaim that ounce of humanity, though tainted as it was. The screams from the dying men brought back the thrill of fighting thousands at once.

“You are dead.” A shot added to the devious chest of the speaker.

*****

Bradley hated being in the infirmary. It seemed to him that this passing week, he'd been unconscious and put into some form of traction just for siding with Rune.

Zeke was standing in the door to his room.

“My god, I should put stock in general care. It doubles every year because of you, you know.” Whenever Bradley was hurt and Zeke was around, all he ever wanted to do was joke.

“As opposed to you, who try drowning after a small incident,” Bradley had no idea where that spite came from. “Sorry, man. Why are you here anyways?”

Zeke responded bitterly, “There were troubles with the sixth member.”

“What's that?”

“The men we sent came back a little shaken.”

“How shaken?” Bradley began to stand and look for his clothes.

“Top drawer, to the left.” Zeke said, a slur mid-sentence. Bradley threw on his pants after he found them.

“How shaken?” Bradley glared into Zeke's glassy eyes.

“They were scraped a little. The two suits say that they didn't see him draw the katana. He might be quicker than you.” Zeke spoke with a smirk slowly growing.

“You may be right, old friend. Being mortal has drawn me to exhaustion before the prizefight.” Nicholette nearly made Zeke run and hide but he calmly stepped aside.

“Hey, we're taking a private jet to Cambodia. I'll go set that in motion and be out at the hangar SOON!” Zeke passed an evil glance to the skimpy skirt and walked out.

Nicholette, walking to the shirtless Bradley, smirked with that same devilish charm.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” Bradley held his jaw tight, trying to fight the lust. She coyly smiled over her shoulder as she walked away to the window. She looked out into the daylight and shut the blinds. Her hands did something that Bradley could not see but it peaked his interest as her blouse hit the floor. Her bra was barely containing what she was most definitely using as a weapon against Bradley. One of her hands went to the back of her bra. “Still not going to say anything?”

Bradley's head diverted when the black lace constraint let loose. He hated her, he loathed her and yet he wanted her. He had no time to dwell on that evil feeling of yearning as she kissed his chest. She licked `til she reached his lips then it was Bradley who lost control and planted a kiss deep and shaky to her lips. She was warm and she was willing but Bradley pulled away, not thinking.

Nicholette grinned and bent to pick up her top.

“If that's the way you want to play…” Her skirt had been too short to truly cover anything but when she bent to touch her toes, her entire bottom was uncovered. Instead of picking up her shirt, she just repositioned herself back to standing straight because she knew that Bradley had given in. He turned her around and began to growl softly. “That's what I thought…”

*****

Zeke stared at his watch. Zylo and Quentin were leaning against the jet, waiting to tag along.

“So, best team in the world, huh?” Quentin exhaled the smoke from his mouth.

“It's that damn BITCH!” Zeke ripped the cigarette from Quentin's hand and took a long inhale. “Have you guys felt something weird about Nicholette?”

“I get a boner whenever I see those Double-Ds, does that count?” Quentin smirked but Zylo stood firm.

“There is nothing normal about this place.” Zylo locked eyes with Zeke and they both held the death lock until Bradley came out.

“Mister Sune?”

The man at the steps of the Pai Mei Temple looked up from his straw hat. The katana he had leaned upon was out in a flash. Bradley tightened the hold he had on the Sword of Alexander. It was not the flashy Black Blade but the Japanese forged blade of Alex's father.

“Your men were annoying me and be glad they lived.” The cold steel of Alec Sune's voice had Zeke itching to shoot.

“Now this, they are not my men. They were sent by Rune in my stead,” The blade that Alec had was a mark that he had completed Pai Mei's training. “You are a man of the sword. If you draw one drop of blood from me then you will not see me again yet if I draw a drop from you then you serve me.” The twinkle in Alec's eye was that of confusion. No man had ever dared to challenge him but now, the second day after fulfilling his training, he was offered this.

“I accept.”

*****

“Daddy?!” Sephriana's voice would echo there forever before Alex had a chance to form up his wings to escape. As he burst from the hole, he grabbed his daughter. They soared higher than sight before spotting the battle-scarred SUV that had brought them to the desolate city of mercenaries. Alex descended carefully; the band was there, waiting for Alex and Sephriana's return.

Falling took seconds but it took hours to ready oneself for the deadly impact. It took great care not to break the fragile youth in the angel's hands. The stoic saint stood with a javelin in his side. He sat Sephriana down to remove it but the short-spear's high whistling caused a toss that broke the barrier of sound and time. When all things were aligned again, Alex had lost the fruit of his love. He ran to the SUV with the team of Strike Force Alpha ensuing him. Alex was safely firing at Strike Force Alpha, holding them away from the point of leaving. Stephen slithered to the driver's seat by route of the back seats.

Alex held his fire. The radiant vision of his daughter came running to him. It came closer and closer, barely touching the ground. He held his arms out, to catch his own daughter. All at once, it was gone. Blood splattered, a sickening crunch broke her sternum. There was no saving her, there was no saving them! Alex cradled his daughter for a time but only to hold the rage down.

“GO!” Alex yelled to his comrades. There was no hesitation on Stephen's part as he nearly blew the clutch dodging a barrage of automatic fire. The maelstrom hit Alex as he took the ground between them and he. Each single Strike Force member had a fear when the wounds had no effect but an eerily warm wind gusted from overhead.

It happened so fast, the flash of light; a swift silence.

*****

“We need one more, Rune. I cannot find one that meets my standards.” Bradley had on an outfit that made it seem like Billy Idol was hiding in his closet.

“Don't worry about that. I was going through some old files and one of your companions from the war was in the morgue. I just so happened to bend the flesh and bring it back.” Bradley's eyebrow rose with speculation.

“And who might that be?”

“Jared Heru.” Bradley hung his head low to hide a blooming cheer. “You don't seem to be surprised.”

“Why would I be? You are amassing an army for no greater reason than your own personal vendetta.”

“Is that all you think this is?”

“I know that the Colonies have gone under heavy tariffs before and no one rebelled but your tongue is as silver as Hitler's or Ugresi's. There is no greater reason for war from you than control.” Rune picked up a file and wrote something down, seeming to ignore Bradley entirely.

“Oh, go on, I like hearing conspiracy theories.”

“Then how about your ties to the New World Order.” Rune shot a look up. “Thanks for your attention again. You entire plan is simple. You want to drop England so that the greatest controller would be the Colonies and you would have risen to that leadership before the Revolution ended.”

“Suppose that you are right. Why join me then?”

“The right-hand of God is the left-hand of the Devil,” Bard stood, something urgent in his mind. “Just do not break your promises to those men who serve under you or no matter how high you've climbed, you'll be dragged down.”

*****

The Saint hung his head low as he washed the blood from his hands. What he did for the Colonies was nothing short of execution. With all the orders Queen Garnet was giving him, he had forgotten to weigh every answer and now he signed the death sentence for the place he was raised.

“So now what, my wicked friend?” The ghostly shape of a Spectre leaned against his bathroom's doorframe.

“Avalon, or Spectre, whichever you prefer, GET OUT.” Saint shoved passed Jason Spectre with a malicious glare to the floor.

“Why, 4th Lyte? So you can stay and be the Hand of Doom to your beloved Colonies? You loved them once, enough so to kill the Fuehrer.” Avalon followed him, whether either liked it or not.

“Be gone, you specter. I killed for the relish of the kill, not for a higher power.” Saint slipped on a dark, long-sleeved shirt.

“Then why did you not allow any of your men to die in the Boxer Rebellion? I recall… oh what was his name? Never mind the name but when you and him were on that rocky mountain, you didn't let him die. You took several bullets before the Air Cavalry arrived but you made sure he wouldn't die.”

“You mean Speck. He was not even sixteen in a enemy-deprived war. It was sympathy that let him live, not a greater power.”

“I am that greater power, Lyte. Without me, you never would have found your Sainthood. I pushed you into that storm drain to make sure the railgun didn't get you. You owe me something.”

“I owe you something for the hell, the DEATH and total chaos. You're right, only you're still fast enough to dodge my punch.”

“I've been around CENTURIES, seen dynasties fall. It took me ages to come to grips with forever, and I did it, by uniting China. Let your life lead somewhere. If my existence was to just make sure that you didn't die in that damn tunnel then BE GLAD and stop taking orders from someone who hasn't gotten her period yet!” Spectre wasn't expecting it, and Alexander didn't believe me made contact with the Seraphim's jaw.

“You ever talk about Garnet that way again, and it will be worse for you.”

“You don't even have the sword anymore. That is in the Vault and you don't have a key,” Spectre rose back to his feet with uncanny ease. “Garnet knows that you and the blade are too close for comfort. She hates being damn uncomfortable, remember, Lyte?” With that, the tower windows burst forth with wind and Spectre, in all his angelic revelries, left to give the fallen an idea of wonder.