Red Twilight: A Dawning of Power

Chapter 4 Awakening

Millie Malagaurd is a is a Stith, a kangaroo like animal from an unknown world, she stands ten feet tall, she has magenta hair long and straight, she dresses in a pink body suit with military patches on it. Millie leads Tail to her room as Blake is getting ready to leaves for his mission.

Millie's room is barley abdicate for someone of her size and shape. Millie needs to crouch and walk sideways to slip under the door into her room. The bed is only half her body length and the room is only twice as wide as she is tall. There is a basketball hoop on one side of the room nailed to the wall over her bed. There is a trunk under the bed containing some treasures of the kangaroo's, a radio on the nightstand and a T.V. hanging from the ceiling. As the kangaroo walks by she turns on the T.V. a music video is playing

"I am a space traveler,

On the lonely planet Earth

I have traversed the universe,

Flown into the unknown,

I turn the key

I flip the switch

I feel the roar!

I fly to the edge of the cosmos

I let it roar!

Flames bite the sky

And still the roar!

The closer to you I get

The father away I am

I want to scream!

I need to scream!

I feel the roar!

I am the roar!

Let me roar!"

Tail looks up at the video "what is this?"

"Daughters of Odin, their singer is a banshee, I helped her fill out her papers when she moved to earth." Millie digs around in her trunk pulling out some band shirts. She hands them to Tail "I have Fear Factory, KMFDM, Black Sabaoth, Alice Cooper."

Tail takes off her shirt and tries on the Fear Factory shirt "Amazing, you and I have the same shape." Tail notices a marking on the back of Millie's hand "What is that?"

"My branding mark. I am property of the von Richton's."

Tail looks surprised even appalled "you are property?"

Millie nods "Freaks don't have rights. You are property too, they just haven't burned you yet."

Tail snarls "And you are ok with this?"

Millie nods "Yes, and you will be to. You will do what the von Richton's say or your life is going to get very complicated." Millie flops down on her bed "almost a third of the people working in this building are here for life." Millie finds a basketball on the ground near her bed, she scoops her tail under it then rolls it up into her hand. Millie can reach clean across the room so as a game she lays on the ground and throws baskets from there. "You want my advice. Make friends with Joe. He will protect you from the worst of things, if he likes you."

***

Joe Dove uses his cane to punch open the door to library, he walks briskly, he is a man with a purpose. Joe yells to Amarant and he walks with the greatest of haste. "Unlock the Archives. Fire up the micro film reader. Bring me every folder from every Watcher that has been inside Claw Co. Tower in the last 20 years!" Joe is made. Amarant can see it, the young Faykin steps down for the librarian booth and races ahead of Joe to get to work.

"Is there anything in particular you are looking for?" Springfield asks

Joe acts as if he didn't hear as he starts thumbing over the spines of books searching them "Do we have eyes on Marks Karingson right now?"

Amarant thinks "I don't recall that name coming up any time in the last few months." Amarant starts to lay out sleeves of film for Joe to look over "Hunter Ceruse was the last person we had follow him."

Joe looks over "Sato? Is he still on active duty?"

Springfield lowers his head "KIA"

Joe sits down with a microscope to start looking over the microfilms

***

(Section taken from the Watcher's journal of Agent Sato Ceruse 07-28-99)

I have been shadowing Dr. Karingson for over a year. I am constantly amused by the complexity of his character. Day and night, I watch him lounge in his office chair, one hand fold under his chest, one hand draped across his face, his lips wrapped around one finger. It seems he is relaxed but never at rest. Whenever reporters show up to talk to Marks about the latest project this rock star scientist is working on he has a loving wife and talks about his amazing child in order to exploit his but as soon as the cameras are off and the microphones pulled away Ako vanishes into the depths of the tower not to be seen again for days. Marks only ever shows any affection for his lab assistant Allen.

The good doctor seldom wants to dine alongside the technicians and researchers, choosing instead to sit in a dark room, only the glow of a TV offering light and warmth to his chamber. A stage performance Swan Lake playing on a loop. I listen in as he talks to his cat about how lonely he is, he its and cries as he whispers the names of people he must have known in a past life. But as soon as an alarm sounds anywhere in the tower for any function the secluded Doctor jumps to his feet and runs at the danger.

When spoken to in a crowed the Doctor puts on the mask of a social butterfly floating from speaking to a hundred people every hour, never does he stop moving. He holds a glass in both hands but never have I seen him finish even one drink. A casual disinterest stains his face. He is a warrior working a garden.

The speed at which he moves from place to place, the energy he demonstrates with his every action, the things he knows, one would be forgiven for assuming him a time traveler. Marks Karingson seems to live a split-second outside of time. Two days ago, he had only just clocked out, I imagine he had barely made it back to his apartment, before he runs back into the office in the nude, hugging his cat and dashing up the step like a man possessed.

In the disguise of a fellow researcher I had trapped him in the elevators in order to try to get a few moments of his time to get a first-hand account of what he is doing and try to understand his strange behaviors. I am acting as Jon Snow, a contractor that floats departments. Everyone excepts me as being just another nameless suit walking the halls. But not Marks, he knows better.

Marks takes me by the hand and twist my arm making me lean over backwards. He looks at my tattoo, satisfied he grins at me like a cat. His eyes a soul searing orange. Marks leans into me, he whispers in my ear my name. not my pin name, my name. I am so filled with fear I think I am going to die of fright.

But then he lets me go. We talk, Marks wanted to share with me a dream. He tells me it is the most powerful image he had ever experienced. In his dream, he tells me, he is a grayed old man, his skin is turning to ash as he walks. Marks grips onto the fire escape of the tower and he starts to climb, with labored breaths he pulls himself hand over fist to the highest point of the tower. He looks up to a radio tower, he knows he needs to keep climbing. A plasma storm boils in the clouds.

As the doctor reaches the top of the radio tower he sees a lightening rod, he grabs it tight and shimmies with the last of his might to the top of the lightening rod. Balanced precariously on the head of pin Marks in the shape of a child stands. The aging doctor laboriously reaches into his coat and pulls a book from a hidden pocket. He hands it to his younger self.

And with that last action the old doctor loses his grip and falls into the darkness. Black wings sprot from his back and in loving embrace he is consumed by the gloom feathers of a black bird. The last thing he would ever see is his young self grow white wings as the doctor is Odette and Odile.

What strange symbolism.

A strange howl shatters the air, I jump and instinctually reach for my sidearm. Marks is unshakable. He asks me, "would you like to meet Tarra?" Marks references his daughter by name. something done remarkable infrequently as he proffers the phrase "my daughter." Or "my child."

In spite of my better judgment, I nod.

Marks types a code into the keyboard on the elevator, we start to drop into the lower levels. Marks tucks his hand behind his back and watches the door. "so, Watcher, when you go to record your records there is something I would like you to add on my behalf." He starts to say. I still don't understand how Marks knows anything of us. "you may ask how I know the things I know. I have drunk the blood of dragons, I have touched the aethereal plains." To me this all make too much sense. But how… you and I, we are watchers, we spend our lives staring into the shadow looking for monsters. Where did this man come to find such things?

He continues "my daughter was born with a genetic disorder. I had tried treating her with every form of medicine available to man. With my options running out I have done the unthinkable. I have reached across the vail. I had stolen fire and steel from the gods. I have become Prometheus."

I should have known then. What I was going to see when the elevator stops, it was going to be something truly horrible. Marks leads us across the hall, in a hidden laboratory. Locked in a room, a beast lays on the slab. A part reptile monster, a part bird part human. Four men stand with heavy fire arms watching the door.

Marks places a hand on the glass looking into the room, he rests his head and lowers his eye "Tarra." He whispers. The beast lifts its head. It can hear him.

Someone nearby starts shouting. I hear the braking of glass. I look to the left, one of the solder is arming his gun. I feel myself get struck…

***

(section taken form an unsigned letter delivered alongside Sato's book)

To: the honorable overseer of the Watchers

I should like you to know that Sato Ceruse was a fine representative of your organization and its will. He fought honorably on his last day. Tarra had escaped her binds, a half dozen of my men died at her hand, Sato stood alongside the Black Hawks under the employment of Claw Co. international. It seems even a lowly pickpocket faced with an unmistakable mirror of mortality may find himself succumbing to the better angels of our nature.

Sato's name hand face will find a place on our wall of memories, as any who tried their lives for the lives of other should.

I should like to ask on the behalf of one how will not have the opportunity to do so, Respect the wishes of the dead. I have returned his book to you, now you must return his ashes to Giza

***

(note by Archivist Amarant Springfield: there seems to be a dozen pages missing from this article. As best as I can extrapolate there are 32 hours between this and the previse entry in Richard Blake's diary. I will leave this notation here as a bookmark wall I am attempting to track done the missing pages from Blake's journal. Update 09-15-01: I (Amarant Springfield) have collected the notebooks from all the hunters in blocks: AA, B, C, E, S, and U. I have been able to construct a timeline that seems to fill in the pages in the chronical.

After departing from Wright von Richton's office Blake had founds his way to the utility depo. He had payed for a new overcoat and picked up a gun case. He then meat up with Agent Charlit Davis, Davis described his mannerism as 'charming'. as reported by Agent Marin Duphran, Duphran on the other hand called him 'grabby.'. Next Blake had gone to the detention center along side Agent Joe Dove, who according to Agent Allen Frog he had met in the library. Blake had spoken to von Richton and payed the bail for Tail Vixon. Joe Dove had signed off on Tail's release conditionally. As the origin of Tail Vixon was still under investigation Tail would not be aloud to leave watcher compound, but she could stay on as a guest. Agent Millie Malagaurd had then taken Tail and Blake to the studio that would act as their dormitory until farther notice.

According the note by Agent Edger Frog, he at that time had escorted Blake to the commissions office. Blake had there been handed the chronical that contained his first commission as an official member of the Holy Order of the von Richton Watcher's Society. Wright von Richton had offered to escort Blake to The Lamia's Back, Blake's first job as a watcher is a hunt.

There is still a noticeable gap in the time line. But this would satisfy the minimum requirements to submit this journal for archiving.)

Where the hell am I? I rub my face. I'm lying face down in the dirt. I climb to my feet and notice that my clothes have changed. I'm in a sports coat and slacks. This stuff isn't mine. I look at my watch. It's September 11th, 2001. I've been out for seven days.

This makes no sense. I feel my face, and I must have just shaved today. My gut hurts, so I think I haven't eaten lately. Come to think of it, my arm hurts, too.

I strip out of my coat. My arm has a bandage wrapped around it. I tear it off to reveal a tattoo a W. There is a fresh scab on my neck and a briefcase at my feet. I open the case and see a gun inside—a 30-06, I think. My brother knew more about guns than I do. But I know how to fire it, at least. Looks like it is bolt-action.

There is a map also. There are all sorts of scribbles on it: red lines, circled spots, Xs, and an address. "County road UU 1006 Navu 5557." I must be in Missouri. There is a stack of photos, as well. no one I know, and an envelope as well. It contains instructions.

"Kill anyone tainted," it explains, to be brief.

I hear a ringing coming from one of my many pockets. I must have twenty of them on this thing. In my inner breast pocket, I find a phone and a picture of a redheaded fox dressed in blue jeans and a shirt that says, "Fear Factory." The picture's caption reads, "My name is Tail" across the bottom. She looks sweet.

I pick up the phone and say, "Who is this?"

"Blake," a young, excitable girl's voice says across the line, "it's me, your operator."

But that isn't the voice I hear, not at first the voice I hear first is that of Chriss "Bullshit," I reply, "you're dead." It takes a few seconds for my head to clear and my mind to focus, thin I start to remember things again.

"Yeah, well, we will be too if we bungle this up." I look at the photo as she speaks to me.

"Is this Tail?" I ask. "Pay attention. I can't remember you. I can't remember anything—how I got here, what I'm supposed to do." I can't help sounding a bit panicked; I'm flustered.

"Blake, they poisoned you. It's a neurotoxin produced by my mother's company, Claw Co. called INT-23. I bet your head hurts like hell, and you're not going to remember shit for three days. But you'll be OK so long as you don't OD and try not to get shot again, that may be a good idea."

"How do I know you?" I start to get a grip on myself as things are starting to make sense again, but things are still not adding up right.

"You sprung me from the detention center."

"What the hell is going on?"

"Blake, you are a member of an exclusive organization known as the von Richton Watchers Society, an underground union that monitors and polices the actions of planeshifters as well as studies the movements of immortals and the undead."

I'm baffled; how would something like this happen to me? "Where do you fit into all this?" I ask.

"I got beaten within an inch of my life by your buddies and you decided, like your boss, that you wanted a pet freak."

The memory is still fuzzy at best, but the subject seems touchy, so I change it.

"Tail, what is my mission?"

"Right!" She must get into this, I think as she goes on. "Your GPS shows you on county road UU. It is thirty-five miles to your goal, south by southwest."

I look up. I'm in the middle of the nowhere and I'm wearing Italian kicks. Not a good combo. Tail continues, "After you arrive, simply go inside and do your voodoo on the place—you know, purify the hell out of it and all. Your ETA is 2300 hours and pickup is at 1300."

I've never been good at that techie stuff. "How long is that?"

"Fourteen hours, boss man," she explains to me.

I hang up the phone and set my feet in motion. The scenery is familiar; I think I walked this road once before. I find that it's not long at all before my coat is wrapped around my waist, and my shirt around my head. I guess I should be happy that there isn't sand in my boots.

Think, Blake, what has been going on? Ms. Wright von Richton … she tranquilized me after I met her monster. But that was not the first time, ether. I remember that I've drawn on that map before. I'd been on my way to that address hitchhiking when a Jag pulled up next to me. Wright von Richton was in the back seat. She asked if I was Christopher Blake, then she shot me. When I awoke, I was in her castle being branded.

Then I had sex with her—no that's not what happened at all … is it?

Tail—I went to see her in her cell. It was refrigerated, and there was a wall of icy vapor behind the door. She had been stripped prior to being thrown in. The bed was made of steel, and she had only a hemp blanket. It was amongst the least humane things I had ever seen. The men that imprisoned her were going out of their way to make her uncomfortable. I had seen the inside of a county jail before, and I knew that those jailers at least offered heated rooms and a decent bed.

I think I'm starting to see things clearly. I remember that Tail had looked up to see me observing her. She seemed to be quite the wisecracker. The first thing she said after noticing me was, "If you're here to **** me, believe it or not, you're the first in line. And I'm a virgin, so you don't have to worry about me gumming up your works … much to my discontent."

"I'm not here to **** you, I'm here to get you out," I had explained. "That is, unless you would like to be raped first," I'd joked.

Then what? How did we get out? I don't think I did. I had attempted to break the security lock, but someone had interrupted me. Was it England? Or Wright? Or what …?

It's hot as hell out here in the middle of nowhere. I have been struggling for two, maybe three hours to recall what has been happening to me, with little progress. Well if nothing else, it has still given me something to think about aside from how much pain I'm in right now.

Wings? In my dream, Wright von Richton had wings. I've seen demons before, lots of them. Might Wright be my first angel? She did say something about heaven and hell, after all. No, that can't be.

I hate the road and I always have. But I have a job to do. I have a promise to keep to my brother, to von Richton, and to Tail.… I made each of them a promise—a promise to fight, to protect, and even to kill in their names. The smell of death is still so fresh in my mind. I feel as if it is my fault. I know it wasn't my fangs that pierced his chest, but the way it plays out in my memories, it very well could have been.

In the end I guess this is for the best. I have power, and this is the price. I can never have a life like others do. Children, a wife, a job with benefits—they're just not me.

I love you, big brother. After I'm done here, maybe you can show me the way home.

It's starting to get dark right about now. It's still a dozen or more miles to Navu. I wipe the sweat from my face. The temperature is dropping fast. At this rate, it feels like my sweat is going to freeze to my skin. But just now I see headlights over my shoulder. Looks like I have a ride.