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Esoteric Chronicles

Act 2, Book 2 Family Bonds .

Chapter -1- Make Like Dillinger

December 8, 2023 - 8am PST San Francisco Bay Aboard the "Busty Belle" ...

** Karla glared with a moue of disgust** , looking from the spider on her dresser to the hairspray in her hand. "How the hell did you get out here on a boat, anyhow, huh?"

Her phone rang, causing her to flinch. A hairbrush inched back along the surface from a slight telekinetic wave. "Damn that startled me," she murmured, drawing the phone from her pocket. She brought it to her ear. "Yeah?"

The voice on the other end asked, "Have you left for Florida yet?"

"Oh, hey Lancey-pants. Me? I'm packing. Right now, though, I was trying to kill this spider with hairspray."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." She glared at the aerosol can then back at the wet spider. "He's still alive, but his hair looks outstanding."

"I see. I hope you'll be leaving soon."

She waved a finger towards the spider and it disappeared, leaving a small dry spot on the dresser surface. "Y'know, you rarely call me unless you're suffering from insomnia, or need an impromptu ride to the airport. Now we're suddenly best buddies again. What's up with that, huh? What's going on?"

She pictured him shaking his head or rolling his eyes.

"Karla, I've been watching Reno's friend, Wilfred Greg. He's studying Reno's blood sample. The man is a hobbyist inventor and is building things for Mister Nevada in the vein of Evan Balmoral's love of comics - one might think of Wilfred Greg's trinkets as ... hero gear."

"Balmoral? That's Evan's last name? Sounds like a dark country beneath Mordor." Karla changed her voice, trying poorly to emulate a movie advertisement narrator. "Crossing the dark bowels of Balmoral was a deadly game, with the Eye of Mordor watching them in the distance."

"Karla! I need you to focus."

"But it's Tolkien! Hey, do you think invisibility is a real ability? I've never seen anyone with invisibility; that would be cool."

"No. No such power ... and even if it was, you wouldn't 'see' them anyhow. Bending light like that breaks the laws of atmospheric-based physics. As you would say, 'Moving on...' I've decided I want to help push Reno into Evan's state of thinking."

"Wait, what? People flipped out when I started attacking mercenary groups. Now, suddenly, you want to champion a public superhero?"

"He'll draw Falcon out of hiding. So long as it's just Evan and Reno doing it, people will think it's some sort of publicity stunt or gimmick. People are quick to assume lightning can be manufactured. Just have him solve a few cold cases and stop a few attackers. Consider stealing some files from 'Cold Cases' at the police station. Have him expose something or bring justice to ... something. Something that gives him _just enough _publicity that someone like Falcon will come out of hiding but won't attack him publicly. Understand?"

"Yeah, yeah. What's your strategy?"

Lance grew quiet for a moment then, in a softer tone, said, "I've tried to put a wedge in Falcon's plans in every other way I can think of. It's time to try a new tactic. This is that tactic, alright? A new situation is developing and things are about to change dramatically. Also, you need to head to Florida and pick up Eric. Patience is with him."

Karla carried her cellphone back to her bed, flopped down onto it and put her feet up on the wall above the faux headboard. "In a nutshell?"

"In a nutshell, Rufus and Sinopa are aboard a freight ship that just left dock under the cover of a storm. It's headed out to sea. It's delivering supplies to Falcon's new underwater base. The Government is doing an outstanding job of concealing information about this base - I can't find anything, but my last remaining spy has told me that there is, quite literally, an underwater city that can move while fully submerged. It has a drill designed into the base of this city - think of the old cover of that one Boston album. On the outside, it's simply a tinted black mass, which appears as an enormous rock beneath the water. On the inside, it's a dome that can see out; within is a city of workers and people. To me, it sounds like he's preparing for some sort of cataclysm that will affect the rest of the world. Meanwhile, Falcon is saving select humans."

"Great. And if he gives himself powerful enough abilities, and locks himself away inside of an underwater city with ten thousand humans who don't know any better, they'll all worship him as a god or something. What a pretentious prick."

"This is a dangerous situation, Karla. He's playing a dangerous game."

Again, Karla lowered her voice and said, "He's playing ... a deadly game! This movie is rated for mature audiences."

"Do you take _anything _seriously? You really need to act your age."

"Technically, Lance, no one knows what it's like to be my age - you sure as hell don't remember. So maybe, just maybe, I'm on my third childhood and this is normal for four centuries. Look, hon, maybe this whole 'artifact' thing is a bunch of bull. Let's do what we can, but there's no use getting ourselves killed to stop something that may just be a myth."

"That's the most ignorant thing I've ever heard you say."

"I'm just looking at it from both sides. I never said I won't help."

"Why are you acting this way with me? Karla, I need your help."

"Listen, pal. Trust takes years to build, seconds to break and forever to restore. Do you understand? I haven't told anyone what I saw you doing. But I also know you need to lie to both sides in order to make things happen. I understand subterfuge. You have it down to an artistic science. But I have no idea whose side you're on. I take this shit seriously, but I don't take you _seriously right now. _Now are we on the same page?"

"What ... did you see me do?"

Karla grinned, wondering if her psychology trick worked. She cleared her throat to seem serious again. "That's for me to know and you _not _to find out. And if I catch you doing it again, I'll show the video to my pals. I can't act on it because I have to assume it's part of one of your crazy strategies. But I've got my eye on you."

"Get to Florida. Find Eric. Find Sinopa. Reunite the twins. Get Reno in the news. That is what we need to do right now."

Karla brought her free hand up to her canary blond hair, toying with a lock. "Who was Sinopa again?"

"The girl that controls fire, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, I think I do. A little. It's a bit hazy. But I do remember a girl with fire." All at once, Kuda hopped up on her bed and rubbed his little head against Karla's face. She giggled softly and brought a hand up to scritch behind his ears. "Oh, hi there cutie-fox! Do you wanna go see the fire lady, too? Do you, babyboy?"

"You are still raising that ferret looking creature?"

"I've done some research. He's called a kuda-gitsune. It's, like, Japanese for 'pipe-fox' or something."

"Hmm. It all makes sense now"

Karla furrowed her brows. "What does?"

"If I'm right, you should take your pet with you to the east coast. He may help you to locate the kitsune. She is a spirit fox Shinto messenger in the form of a human woman. Her involvement is for either one of two reasons. Either the gods are invested in what is happening, or she is looking for the twins."

"Why would she be looking for the twins?"

"That doesn't matter right now. You can ask her for yourself, if you like. You shouldn't be wasting time. Take Fox Parker with you. I want someone capable of watching your back; you cannot do everything on your own."

"Okay, I'll leave right away. What about Falcon?"

"If you see him, kill him. The man is stealing abilities from supernaturals. He's killing them to the point where our kind is nearly extinct. It's possible that he has help. It's too large of an undertaking to wipe out the world's supernatural population by himself. So be careful, he might be too well guarded to attack directly."

"And you want me to make Reno into a superhero? Why don't you let me take the spotlight?"

"Because people in the spotlight have a difficult life. If you got yourself killed, it would ultimately hinder our efforts to defeat Falcon. Whether you like it or not, you've taken it upon yourself to act as the leader of the group."

"Yeah, fine. Whatever. Nice save. So. You want me to help you convince Reno to become a vigilante huh? What happens if Reno dies?"

"He already has. It made him stronger. It made him angrier."

"Okay, okay. Where is he supposed to go next, General?"

"I don't know," said Lance. "He's dropped off the radar. A little birdie told me that _you _were going to track him and keep an eye on him. What happened? You lose him?"

"No. I dropped him off at a hotel and gave him a brick of clean cash. He told me he's looking for Topaz, and, this morning, he'll be searching for her at the Parker Mansion. I came right back here to pack for Florida. I figure he'll need some time to snoop around, ogle at the fancy house - that sort of thing. But that's where he is right now, so chill out."

"Alright, well, I stand corrected. I thought you didn't know his whereabouts."

"He'll probably be there a while. So where should I guide him next?"

"Just let him be for now. Head to Florida. You can pair him with Evan when you return."

"Yeah, sure. I'll park the house at one of those fancy Yacht Clubs - you're picking up the bill by the way. Just text me an address. I'm going to go and get Fox ready. You know boys ... they sometimes take forever to do anything. Later Vader." She disconnected the phone then called out, "Fox, dear! We need a flight over to the other coast, then we have to take the wonder jet, AKA me, out to some island in the middle of the Atlantic. I need you to go with me, babe. Are you going to be worthless without your wonder-twin sister?"

"Say what?" He called out from down the hall.

She smiled. "I need to know if you're going to take the form of 'worthless' without her to activate your powers!" The succubus slid out of her bed, stretched, and walked back to her dresser.

Fox came to her cabin and opened the door. "Karla, I have no idea what you're talking about. I don't necessarily need Topaz around to throw a punch and watch your back. What are you talking about?"

"Nothing dear. Pop culture from before your time, sweetie."

"You're weird, you know that? So when do we leave?"

"Thanks, and soon! Go get ready. Pack light." Karla picked up a hand towel, wiped the hairspray off the top of her dresser then wondered aloud, "I wonder what Reno is up to right now."

X

---

X

** Topaz Parker, on her knees in the doorway with her hands behind her head, ** glanced up while keeping her head down. Three soldiers in front of her, one behind her with a gun against her upper spine and the team leader stood between herself and Reno.

She cut her eyes over at Nevada, who was facing the garage wall with a double barrel shotgun against the back of his neck. "Hey, Reno, hit the deck."

Not having much to lose, Reno dove to his left, away from Topaz.

She twisted her body to her left, towards the outside, and brought her left elbow along the length of the assault rifle. All in one smooth motion, she closed her hands over it and guided the butt-stock up into the face of the gunman.

With a quick follow through, she guided the weapon out of his hands as he fell backwards. Topaz opened fire, spraying rounds at the attackers surrounding her. She mowed down all the mercenaries and riddled the first row of vehicles with bullet holes. The double barrel shotgun fired harmlessly into the garage wall. It fell, with its owner, to the floor in silence.

"Stupid amateurs," she murmured. Topaz ejected the magazine then leaned over and took a replacement from another assault rifle on the floor. She loaded the new magazine, pulled back on the slide, and then told them, "Okay, assholes! I know you're all stunned from taking big boy bullets to your vests. Some of you are dead; some of you took a round in the arm. But you're still going to listen to me or I'll leave you here to rot like the bodies of the cleaning people upstairs. And I liked those two. You guys, I don't like at all. So don't screw with me. Are we on the same page, everyone?"

Reno moved over to the man adjacent to the shotgun. He pulled the man's mask off and threw it aside.

Jerry Balmoral was African American, medium height, and obviously injured.

Reno ran his hands up over his bald head and sighed in frustration. "God, man, look at you. You're almost eligible for retirement. What about your stepson? What the hell were you thinking?"

"I told you we don't even talk anymore." Jerry reached a gloved hand over to his shoulder, favoring a wound. "So you going to finish the job now?"

"You dick," Reno grumbled. "I punched you in the face last year because you made an off-hand remark about my girlfriend not being a real cop. You were jealous the DEA took over one of your cases. You called her a bitch. So I popped you in the face. That's just man-to-man honor. Why'd you take it personal? That breaks man-code law of honor. WHY are you working with these guys? Why are you shooting people up and down the coast? Is this why the cops have been making it so hard to help the gypsies? Because some of them have abilities?"

Jerry scooted back against the garage wall, keeping pressure on his shoulder. "No, man. Sanders takes orders from someone who has something to do with the gypsy murders. Frank Sanders didn't want you solving those case because it might have led you back to him."

"Oh. Well." Nevada sniffed disdainfully then, quite simply, said, "Fuck him." He cleared his throat and reached beneath Jerry Balmoral's good shoulder and helped the man to his feet. "JB, you screwed up. I get it, you went through a rough patch. Your pregnant wife died. Your biological kid died in the womb. It really sucks, man."

Jerry said nothing.

"Hell, I'm still flipping out over Nicky's death and we never even had the chance to get married. I can't imagine losing my wife and child in one tragic accident. But you know what? The guy you work for, Aris Falcon, is looking like my lead suspect in Nichole's murder. So, as much as I can't imagine what it would be like to lose one's pregnant wife on her due date... you really _do not want to be in _my way while I'm getting justice for Nichole. Okay? You need to distance yourself from this whole thing. Topaz, here, is rich as shit. She'll give you one of these cars and a little start-over money. Go somewhere quiet and start a new life."

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Topaz, casually using a foot to push down one of the mercenaries, sprawled out in front of her rifle barrel. "Why _are_you doing this?"

Reno gave Jerry a pat on his good shoulder. "Because we all screw up every now and then. And he deserves a second chance. And because he was ordered to blow my brains out but he hesitated. He bought you enough time to pull off that fancy disarming trick. He gave me my life, so I'm giving him his life. Topaz, please. I don't have anything to give him, and you don't even know what to do with all your money."

"GOD," she exclaimed, passing the rifle to Reno. "You're such a ... rrgh! Drama! We don't have time to play these stupid games with these stupid people." She leaned over, pulled a handgun from the team leader's holster, switched off the safety, and shot the squad commander in the head. Just as casually, she switched the safety back on and put the gun into her pocket. She shook her head and walked across the garage to get a battery off the shelf by the door at the far end.

Topaz brought it back and put it down in front of Jerry's feet. She looked at the incredulous expressions and the wide eyes all around her. "What? You jerks are lucky I'm letting the rest of you live. You're all shocked I shot your commander? What the hell for? He ordered our deaths. Now he can't order shit. This is a war whether or not any of you see it. My house is just the battlefield of the day. Get over it." She turned to Jerry and said, "This battery will fit in any of the last six cars in the fourth row. The keys are on the driver's seat. If you want money, you've got to go back into the house with us to get it. Your buddies are in there, gunning for us. So what's it going to be?"

Jerry slumped against the wall, breathing heavily. "Okay, I'll help you."

"Great choice!" Topaz pulled the handgun back out.

"Whoa, whoa!" Reno shook his head. "No one else!"

"Oh hush, Reno. Seriously." She spun the weapon on her finger then said, "Boys, get your asses back into your van or I'll pop you like I did your leader. And take his body and put it in the back for me. I don't care if you're hurting or bleeding. Do it or I'll do_you_." She flipped off the safety and pointed it at the group.

The remaining men worked to pick up the team leader's body. She followed them to their van, waited for them to put the corpse into the back then had them line up against the van. "Get the guns, Reno."

Nevada walked the line of injured mercenaries, took their weapons and frisked them for concealed gear. He opened the side door to the van. Everyone piled into the seats. He glanced back at Parker and asked, "Now what?"

"Now this." She walked back to the station wagon, retrieved something from one of the bags in the back then returned to the van. She moved into the driver's seat, started the engine, and drove it away from the rolling door. She put it back into park, turned off the engine and threw the keys as hard as she could.

"And now," she added with a smile. Parker held up a small canister in her left hand and displayed it like a game show model with her right hand.

Topaz pulled the pin, tossed it into the van with them, then shut the driver door and walked back to Reno while the van filled with gas. Everyone slumped over. "They'll be unconscious for a few hours. Let's clear the house then leave. I mean it. I'm not trying to hang out with these morons. I'm getting tired of these people."

"Yeah, well," Jerry fidgeted nervously then said, "We received the order when we got here that all teams will be headed to Florida tonight. There's some sort of place out there where we're going to start our lives over, fresh."

"You can still do that," Reno mused. "Just don't do it with Falcon. I'm going to find that place and I'm going to flatten it."

"It's too big to flatten. It's some sort of island or something."

Reno offered a dubious glare. "Yeah, so then I'll carpet bomb it. I'll fry it. I'll do whatever I have to do. So stay away from it."

"Okay." Jerry held up one hand. "I'll get away. Look, if you guys come across Angela's son, you tell him I'm sorry. Evan owns a store but he hasn't been there very much in the past couple of weeks. There's a sign on the door that says something, like, 'by appointment only.' I was going to say goodbye before heading east to the new town but ... still. I _did_try."

"Good for you, let's go." Topaz pocketed the handgun again, picked up another assault rifle and checked it. "Reno, maybe it would be quicker if I went and cleared the house alone. You guys could get the car ready. Or maybe you could go pick up some bottled water and gas then come back for me."

"Topaz..."

"Okay, okay. Just a thought." She huffed and shook her head. "I'll clear the lower levels. You two head upstairs. Balmoral, use your radio and tell them that we killed the team. Tell them that you killed one of us and injured the other. Tell them that you tracked me to the panic room and you've got me holed up outside of it and you need everyone to converge on the panic room entrance. When they come running, you guys waste everyone."

"That won't work," said Jerry. He pulled his radio off his belt and said, "See the flashing blue light? That's the silent distress transponder. Blue is the color used when someone with abilities is able to take control over one of us, or if the team is overrun by someone with abilities."

"Shit." She ground her molars in frustration.

"Someone must have activated it when I said I'd help you. Also, you'll need stealth. You can't go shooting upstairs. The neighbors will call the cops and the remaining team will hear the gunshots. So flushing them out won't be easy."

Parker threw her free hand up in disgust. "Just great. Fine. What're our options then? The weapons and flash suppressors that daddy keeps in the house aren't anywhere near the garage. So now what?"

Reno reached for Jerry's handgun and took it from his hip holster. He unloaded the rifle and put the magazine into his pocket, along with the round from the chamber. "We use our abilities."

"I don't have any," Topaz snapped.

Reno and Jerry turned to face her, with a blank stare. She glared in reply. "What!"

Reno shook his head in disbelief.

Jerry's free hand returned to his injured shoulder then he said, "Uh, you just took down_everyone_. How old are you and how long have you been training?"

"Twenty-four; a few years." She followed Reno's lead, disarmed the assault rifle, then wiped it down with her shirt and withdrew the handgun from her pocket. "Why?"

"In my briefing," said Jerry, "You're labeled as having an ability. Look at you. You wiped out a team of highly trained men. Alone. Without Nevada's help."

"Oh, I have abilities, now, huh? What's my super power, pal?"

Jerry frowned. "Ms. Parker, you have superhuman dexterity, grace, and agility. On top of that, you were given training from your father that would rival that of clandestine government intelligence agents - training in self defense, offensive skills, and you're a marksman with handguns and ranged weapons."

"What? They didn't mention my proficiency with blades, huh?" She offered a smirk. "Shame. I'm pretty good with a dagger." She approached Jerry, took the combat knife from his ankle sheath, turned it about, and, with the snap of her wrist, she flung it towards the van just outside the door.

Reno and Jerry craned their heads to see where it went. The combat knife wobbled back and forth, stuck in the center of the van's gas cap. She switched the safety back off on the pistol and said, "Let's go. Again, I'll take downstairs. You guys take the top level."

"We should stay together."

"No, Reno. I'm not having him ... or you, for that matter, around me when I open the house vault. Now let's go."

X

---

X

December 8, 11:20am, EST Baton Rouge, Louisiana Ryan Field baggage claim ...

** Eric leaned back ** against the privacy stall and switched the pay-phone to his other ear. "We stayed at the Hilton Garden Inn last night. It's just a mile from the airport. We came back to pick up Patty's bags, which became available this morning. This weather is crazy. I'm not sure how long before the storm breaks." Eric Loupe took a deep breath then sighed. "Look, I'm sorry I disappeared. You've been nothing but helpful to me and instead of properly internalizing my problems the way men are taught, I've been acting out like a child."

Over the line, a female's voice replied in a cheerful tone. "Oh sweetums, I know you're under a lot of stress right now. And let's not focus on that, because you didn't do anything wrong. I'd be more worried about using your passport. I mean, it's great they let you in and out of the country after you were on the news as a suspected gunman in a shooting. But there was a red notice out for your arrest at Interpol, love."

"Yeah," he murmured. "It seems weird I wasn't detained."

"Mm-hmm. And since it's obvious that your identity is suddenly unknown to the police or Interpol, and there are suddenly no flags on your passport, you need to ask yourself why. Then you need to worry about the Government bastards behind your problems. Someone is probably flagging your whereabouts, so they can follow you rather than inconvenience you. Why don't you wait until I get there and I'll get'cha out of Florida ... low-key - what do you say?"

Eric cut his eyes over at the keypad, as if burning a hole in the metal with his gaze. "Yeah, I've already had the passport thing on my mind. Look, with all due respect, nothing you do is low-key, Karla. That's why I needed to leave in the first place. I needed answers to all these questions I have about myself. I didn't want to attract attention. I found this girl named Patience Ubysh with a man, Greg Watson. He was lying low from your pal - Aris Falcon ... seemed scared out of his mind about the guy. Now I'm crawling back to you with no answers, but even more questions."

"Did you at least learn a lesson?"

"I'm ready to be a team player this time. Watson and Patience helped open my eyes to that idea."

"Hey! Wait just a second here! I just realized something - I know those two!" Karla laughed over the line. "I thought you might have been gallivanting around with some hussy when I heard you were traveling with a woman. But, shoot, I know Patience. She's cool."

"I see."

"So ... Watson lived through that building explosion huh? Good for him. He's still a skirt-chasing liar, though. So what happened with those two?"

"Patience came with me. Watson was working for this guy calling himself 'Steven' who is currently living in Florida. Patience and I wanna find this guy and talk to him. He's supposed to be a doctor and he might be able to help with my head problems. After the storm passes, I'm headed back to California. I promise I won't start any more fights with you if you'll have me back."

"Of course I will sweetheart. And don't worry about the fights. You're just dealing with things - I get it. Listen, I know Steven, too. He's the oldest person I've met in my life. Maybe the oldest there is, I don't know. You won't know that from looking at him, though. Anyhow, tell me everything he says. He's somehow involved in everything that's going on. In fact, he and Lance are at the center of it all. But I'm not sure how everything is related just yet."

"Can I trust him?"

The female on the other end of the line offered a sigh. She grew quiet as if to ponder the question, then she said, "Steven is intelligent. You can trust that nothing will happen to you while you're around him. He's not powerful, per say, but he's smart, shrewd and he knows more about the Esoteric people than anyone else, but his information isn't for sale. Also, you're right about his profession. He is a doctor and might possibly be a good person to talk to about your PTSD if you can find him."

"Anything else you know about him?"

"He doesn't age; he is immune to all known sicknesses, just like Lance. He's also an inventor. You can trust that you'll be safe in his presence, but don't necessarily trust what he says."

"He lies about things?"

Karla sighed over the line. "You don't survive as long as he has by telling the blunt truth. We all have a different handle on subterfuge; I imagine his is pretty damn good." She paused, causing the line to go silent. It distorted with the sound of her sigh. She cleared her throat then added, "To be ... honest, I don't know if he lies or not. But I don't yet trust his innocence in all this mess. Let's face it - you can twist the truth all day long without telling a lie. Lawyers and politicians make a paycheck out of doing that. So keep your guard up, just in case."

"I appreciate the help."

"Let me just get you out of there, would you?"

"Karla ... I miss you. As weird as that sounds, it's how I feel. But I don't want to fight with you again."

"Look, I'll already be in the area. Let me help you before you wind up in the crosshairs of discord."

"What?"

She sighed in frustration. "Nevermind. If I explain all my jokes, they won't be funny to me anymore. I'll be local to run some errands. If you want a seat on Parker's private jet, you give me a ring, okay?"

Eric smiled inwardly. "I'll see what I can learn then I'll call you back and let you know one way or the other. I'm nowhere near Miami. We were diverted to Baton Rouge. We're being offered alternative means of transportation to our destinations but Patience offered to pay for a rental car."

"I've just landed in Jacksonville with Fox, diverted from Orlando. We're about to head south. When is this thing over?"

"I'm told it isn't even here yet."

"What? Then what is this mess outside right now?"

"It's the outer section of the storm. The eye of the hurricane should be reaching Miami right about now. We're both going to be stuck. At least until after the storm. So just hold tight, then you can book me a reservation on that private jet, okay?"

"Okay. I'll be available to you in a pinch if you need me, I promise. Thanks for calling me, Eric. I did worry."

He smiled slightly. "Any news on Uncle Donovan?"

"No. But that doesn't mean we can't try finding him. Together, Eric Loupe. Together."

"Alright," he replied "I made this call on Patience's credit card and I don't wanna run up the bill. I'll keep you in the loop. Take care."

"You too, cutie. You let me in the loop, and I'll let the Loupe in me - if you're a good boy. Stay out of trouble, doll."

Eric coughed into his fist. "Uh, yeah. I'll try. G'bye." Eric waited for her to mirror his last word then hung the phone up and waved at Patience over on a bench. She waved back.

He walked away from the pay-phone and approached the African-Russian woman. Eric offered her a shrug. "Okay, so I still have a place to go when I leave here. Karla was amenable to everything. I guess she's more mature than I gave her credit for, even if I don't understand her humor."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, she made a comment about me being in the 'crosshairs of discord' - whatever that means."

Patty shook her head and smiled. "The Greco-Romance goddess of chaos and discord was named Eris. Your friend basically said she doesn't want you in the crosshairs of Aris ... As in Aris Falcon."

"How do you know all this stuff?"

"I've been studying everything to prove the existence of supernatural beings in humanity's past. Had I only been more open-minded to consider that they would have gone into hiding after the Inquisition, I wouldn't have been caught off guard with the reality that your kind still walks among humans."

"Okay so what's the story with this goddess of chaos you just mentioned?"

"Mm, well, Eris snuck into a godly garden, stole a golden apple, carved into it the idea of who is the most beautiful and evaded a hundred headed dragon to deliver the apple-inscribed message during a wedding to which she was not invited."

"Uhm. Sure. That was important why?"

"It led to the Trojan War. The fall of Troy marks where the mythical age ends and the historical age begins ... to a degree."

"What, uh, ever happened to all that stuff anyway? The Greek gods and all that?" He reached for the bag on her shoulder and carried it for her. They began walking together through the airport.

"When the Romans conquered the Greeks, they converted the Greek Gods by changing their names, but continued to pray to the same Gods as the Greeks did. Think of it as the way the Spanish decided the Son of God should be named Jesus Christ. They simply changed the name of the god and made it their own."

"Right, I get it. Like how Zeus became Jupiter, Ares became Mars, and so forth."

Patience smiled. "You're smarter than you look, Eric. So yes, the Romance began worshiping the same gods as the Greeks, but under new godly names. In 391 AD, after the Romance Empire converted to Christianity, they outlawed and persecuted people who worshipped the 12 Olympians in any variation of the pantheon. Worship continued in secret for another two hundred years at best."

"You sure are a wealth of knowledge. Jesus."

"It amuses me that you say a fake name in vein."

"Pardon?" He held the door for her. They walked into another section of the airport, side by side.

"I simply don't believe Jesus was ever a real person."

Eric rubbed his forehead and side-nodded for her to follow him. They headed for baggage claim. "You did all that research and study and you don't think Jesus was a real person? How the hell is that possible? Why would people believe in someone for two thousand years that was never born?"

She picked up a bag off the conveyer belt, one of three left on the entire carousel. "Eric, Jesus Christ has stories attributed to Him that mirror far older stories written about Horus, Mithra, Ishtar, Krishna, Buddha, Romulus, Dionysus, Zarathustra, and even mortal people like Odysseus. The gospels of the New Testament have four versions coming from multiple sources, some of which are theories called 'Q,' while some sections contradict one another. The parts that are in agreement about Jesus' life and miracles are stolen from religious stories that are hundreds and, sometimes, thousands of years older. Horus, for example, was forty-five hundred years ago. Yet stories told about him mirror the stories of the Christian Messiah? Forgive my disbelief. I was not raised a Christian."

Eric pursed his lips together. "I thought Jesus died for the sins of humanity? So if he was never born and became the world's darkest lie, then nobody died for our sins. That means that the God I believe in still requires me to make a sacrifice like, say, Cain and Abel."

"Have you made any lately? 'God is forgiving, God is love.' You're not going to hell. Funny, though, how in the Old Testament, God was wrathful and rarely showed forgiveness. For example, in Genesis He flooded the world - a story stolen from the Gilgamesh and Atrahasis Epic - and turned people to salt and destroyed cities. Yet in the New Testament, God is love and forgiveness. Interesting, no?"

"Interesting."

"The Christian bible ends with God destroying the world - the Book of Revelations. Love and forgiveness is where? Billions die. A handful of survivors will stand with the return of Christ, the Messiah, and the rest were fooled by an Anti-Christ villain, and die tragically. It's gruesome. Combine that with the fact that there are too many contradictions to take it all as word-for-word fact. Too many writers wrote it. What do writers do? They tell stories. Historians didn't write the Bible, it was written by people who were telling 'The Greatest Story Ever Told,' a few decades after the death of Jesus. If you're open minded, you will see my side."

Eric stared at her as they walked through the terminal. "You have every right to believe that. I won't persecute you because I'm not like the Christians of 391 AD or whatever. But you tell me that you're open-minded because you consider yourself right. So, let's test how open-minded you are, Patty. Consider this. Perhaps Jesus was real. Consider he was ... perhaps a supernatural human. Maybe he did these miracles attributed to him because he was trying to live up to the stories he grew up hearing about all those names you mentioned a few minutes ago. Or maybe he did things so great that nobody would believe them, so the writers of the gospels wrote their stories in a way that people could relate. It wouldn't be the first time the Christian religion has made changes to The Word to adopt Pagan beliefs in order to draw in the Pagans to convert. That doesn't mean Jesus never lived; it just means some of the details weren't preserved accurately. Most of today's Christians do not celebrate the detail's of Jesus' life. They celebrate the meaning in his death, and the teachings and values he stood for."

"Eric, everything attributed to Jesus was taken from something else that was much older and can be traced to its source. Perhaps He did exist. But perhaps it was a cult of people who made up information about Him and those were the stories that were told, meaning the writers of the Gospel simply didn't know their history concerning stories already in existence. They had no idea they were penning recycled mythology."

"You want me to be open-minded to your views. I listened." He paused to open a door for her. They walked through together and headed towards the rental car section. "Patty, just give me the same respect. I could be right, too, you know."

"Eric, this isn't a matter of open-mindedness. If David Koresh died in the Waco compound two thousand years ago, we might be praying to him instead, because it might have made for an interesting and entertaining story to tell. All one would need to do is borrow miracles attributed to older deities and write a gospel about him. But it happened in 1993 instead year 33 of the Common Era. And because the compound's burning happened in the modern day of suspended belief, where people idealize the past more than the present or future, Vernon Howell died as a 'crazy cult leader.' I'm not saying he was anything special. I'm saying timing and history determines who is a god, and who is a man. You have faith that what you were told is historical truth. I have faith that anything is possible. So suspend your disbelief, and consider the fact that everything we know, as a race, could very well be wrong."

Eric rubbed his chin. "The fact I'm a Christian is a small puzzle piece to my past. I don't remember pop culture names like Jason Bourne. And that means I lost everything I considered fictional, if I knew about the character to begin with. But the fact I remember things about the bible gives me some peace. Thank you for bringing this up. It's made me realize I know more about my past than I realized. I'm apparently a Christian. And that's a start."

Patience withdrew her credentials and thumbed out her wallet. She waved her credit card over an automated kiosk, which dispensed a rental car key and printed a rental agreement. She signed a digital screen then shifted her handbag to her other shoulder. "I hope I didn't offend you."

"Patty, with any luck, one day your quest for answers will lead you to an actual Truth. Maybe you'll meet an old immortal that was there. I look forward to hearing what you learn. Until that time, stay open-minded and consider the possibility that some of the 'greatest story ever told' was true."

"That's always a possibility," she nodded. She turned away from the baggage claim and walked with Eric across the concourse. "Perhaps Cyrus the Great is the Messiah, as said for freeing Jews during the Babylonian Captivity. And we all forgot about him. Perhaps God has a sense of humor and has created several sons exactly the same way - as the step-son of a carpenter who died for our sins and became our savior. Eric, perhaps you will become the savior of us all."

"I, uhm, don't think I'm related to King David. Then again, I don't even know who I am. Patty, you're a very intelligent academic, but my theories are just as good as yours."

"Fair enough. So now what?"

"We find Steven. I'm told he's quite old. Perhaps he'll be able to settle our differences of opinion."

"I look forward to it more than you could ever know." She smiled and opened a door leading outside. Storm clouds rolled across the sky. Drizzle fell from above. "I guess we head east. But first, keep your eyes out for a sign that will lead us to the Rental Car parking deck."

X

---

X

December 8, 10:10pm, EST Several hours east of Miami, Florida ...

** "Okay, I got nothing."** Rufus turned off his phone and put it into his pocket. "And the battery's at forty percent, so I turned it off. Maybe it'll be more useful at a later time. So ... what'cha think of modern human beings?"

"Exciting," replied Sinopa. "We have been at sea for a few hours. I think I'm ready to explore."

"Jules is a lucky feller." Rufus moved to the door and eased it open then sniffed. "Coast is clear but there are men on this ship. No doubt about that." He pushed the door open a little more then waved for her. "C'mon. Damn, what's that smell?" He lifted his head and sniffed at the wind. "Smells like beach sand. I also smell fish being cooked." He paused then smiled, "Land-ho, foxy."

The kitsune ran her fingers back through her hair and pushed the locks into waves to better hide her orange-furred fox ears, peaking out of her matching red hair. "The nose of a werewolf is most impressive."

"Ayup."

The two stepped out of the storage container and made their way up to the front of the cargo ship. They stood side-by-side and peered out over the gunwale, into the darkness. "It's only overcast, now, Mister Darken."

"Just Rue. We've been over this already. Just Rue or Rufus." He folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. "Okay, I had no idea we docked. But this can't be Florida because the hurricane should be full blast right now. The eye of the storm would be creeping over the everglades. Where'n the hell are we, that we're away from the wind and the rain?"

"What island is this? Bermuda? Bahamas? Cuba?"

"I dunno. Bahamas might be a little too far out. This looks too small to be Cuba. We need to find out where we are."

"Are you patient?"

"Well, yes'm, I'm a patient man. Why?"

Sinopa nodded. "Stay put. Or explore the ship. Do not cause trouble. I am going to scout the island quickly and find out how large it is, or if it has a name." She turned to a container at the front of the ship, burned off the lock and said, "No peaking." She stepped inside and, seconds later, a three-tailed feral fox stepped back out.

"Wow. Nice trick, darlin."

To his surprise, the little fox spoke. "Yes, I thought you might like it." She hopped up onto the shoulder-high metal lip around the edge of the ship then said, "Please do not cause trouble. I'll be back soon." She walked along the edge with the agility of a cat then leapt over the side.

Rufus hurried over to where he saw her jump then smiled, watching her trot down a mooring line. She hopped off and landed on the pier then looked around, sniffed at the air and suddenly bolted off in a full run. He watched her from the ship until she faded in the darkness.

He sniffed firmly, inhaling deeply. "Damn, she's quick." His eyes widened then he sniffed again. "Wait, that one's familiar." The southerner turned about and sniffed once more. "...Oh no." He looked around then headed back towards the aft section, eyeing the bridge high above. "Is that you, kid?"

Rufus rubbed his face, quickened his pace across the large Panamax bulk carrier ship. He stopped at the base of the tall, towering bridge section and sighed. "Stay out of trouble she says," he muttered then opened a metal door and stepped over the ankle-high lip.

Sniffing out the path ahead, Rufus made his way down the deck, making mental notes. Thirty-two distinct scents, not counting his own. He recognized Sinopa, no longer on board. He recognized another, but couldn't be totally sure just yet. The other thirty, he deduced, were crewmen.

One of them was coming his way. He looked around, quickly, and ducked into the head. Rufus flinched at the chemical scents used to keep the bathroom clean. He waited until the scent of the crewman passed then stepped back out into the hall and sniffed at the air again.

He stopped in front of a stairwell and peered up then sniffed. "Hell," he whispered then found a nearby janitorial closet and let himself into it then shut the door. A moment later, a group of men went by. He remained silent, waited for a few minutes, then stepped back out and sniffed again. More than two-dozen individual human scents were ahead of him. He moved into the stairwell and headed up.

As he grew nearer to the bridge, he recognized the scent belonging to Evan. On the top floor, he stepped out of the stairwell and sniffed. Four people, one of which was the boy.

Rufus headed for the command bridge then quickly ducked into a closet full of printer paper and other supplies. A man in plain clothes walked by with a jacket covered in identification patches. Rue waited until the Captain entered the stairwell then slipped back out of the closet and stalked across the bridge. Rufus came up behind the last man and reached out only to freeze when the crewman spoke into a radio transmitter.

The language was foreign. Rufus couldn't make heads or tails of its origin. However, he could tell that the man was talking to the crane operators from the way they spoke back and forth to one another. He slowly backtracked, making his way off the bridge, and then followed Evan's scent to a makeshift brig.

Darken carefully shut a metallic door then locked it and turned to the young man. "Hey, hero." In the poor lighting, Rufus couldn't tell if the boy was African American descent or Jamaican.

"I messed up," said Evan. "I'm sorry." He glanced out an open porthole.

"It's no big deal. I'll jus' go wolf mode, rip th' damn cell door off its hinge bolts and we'll be on our way."

The twenty-year-old ran his hands along the cell bars and shrugged. "I could turn these bars to glass. I could turn their guns to glass. I could have turned their controls to glass. I could have left whenever I wanted."

"So why didn't you?"

"The guy who put me in here punched me in the gut really hard. I attacked him with a pocket of sand that I turned into glass shards. It really made him mad and he hit me so damn hard that I threw up. At first, I thought he might have broken one of my ribs but I'm feeling better now. I didn't want to escape because I didn't want that guy to clobber me again."

"Are you kidding?" Rufus folded his arms across his chest. "You're feeling sorry for yourself when you could have escaped?"

"Look." Evan lifted his shirt. Even with black skin, the bruise was quite obvious over his abdomen. "I was really embarrassed. That guy hits really hard."

"Why didn't you just turn the attacker into glass?"

Evan blinked, wide eyed. "What? That would kill him!"

"Better him than you," Rufus quipped.

"No!" Evan hissed in a loud whisper. "He didn't try to kill me. I won't kill him. That's awful. I can't kill someone unless it's a last line of self-defense. I know heroes are supposed to be dashing and stuff, and I'm not ... but I have the same code of honor. I'm not a rogue."

Rufus brought the palm of his hand to his forehead. "Were you bullied in school?"

"Yes. And I refused to fight people to prove a point. I only ever defended myself from being hit in the face. But I never became violent."

"Get out of that cell, then."

Evan stood up and put his hand on the bars. The steel turned to glass then he elbowed it and it gave way. He stepped through then dusted himself off and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"Look at'cher self, kiddo. Standing there with your chin tucked down, your back hunched, and just totally lacking confidence. That's crap. I won't wear tha' t-shirt with yer logo on it if you gunna be'a pussy, Evan. Show some spine. A hero got swagger cause he's confident he can protect himself and everyone around 'im. What'cha got? You could'a turned tha' dude's fist into glass, right? Just the fist?"

Evan turned back towards the cell and gestured to the broken cell bars. Halfway up the bar, it transitioned back into metal. "Yes. I could have. Just like this. But it's different with a person's limb. It's very dangerous to their health. There's layers. Veins and muscle tissue, and capillaries. You can cause serious infection. That is, if they don't bleed to death first, and the suffering is just..."

"No offense, kiddo, but no wonder you got bullied in school, son. You take things overboard. If you gotta think a lil' too deep 'bout this stuff, then turn th' guy's fingernails to glass. When he punch ya, they all break. He's in pain, there's a lil' blood. Those things grow back. Turn his teeth t' glass, then punch'em in the face. He'll need dentures but..."

"He could choke."

"So let'em choke! Make it really dayum fine glass. Just his front teeth will do, then he'll have to spit'em out. Don't take things so frickin' over th' top. Turn his clothes to glass then body slam'em. He'll be covered in shards, naked and vulnerable. Fight like a beast, I always say."

"You supposedly _are _a beast. And you're going to need to be that beast if you wanna fight your way through a fully armed crew and survive."

Rufus rubbed his chin. "We're gunna need someone to get this boat back to Florida."

"...What? Then where are we?"

Rufus shrugged. He tilted his head, chuckled and said, "Sinopa is findin' out for us right now. Let's make like a library and book, nerd boy."

"Okay that was really lame and..."

"Yeah ... I dun' give a shit." Rufus tilted his head at the way Evan flinched. "They's just words, kiddo! No damn wonder aliens don't come and visit. They see we invent meaningless words and tell our kids not to say'em. Then we invent a set'a words in every language and designate them as the almighty 'curse words.' Why anyone gotta put words on an alter? Y'know what a real curse word is? 'Hex.' It means 'curse'. And a hex is serious shit, kid."

Again, Evan cringed.

"And tha' whole ... flinching all melodramatic-like when someone says a word tha' ya don't like ... it's silly. Stupid as hell, really. Get yerself some big balls of steel, son."

Evan frowned, pursing his lips together. "If you expect me to say, 'Let's get the eff out of here,' or something, so that I suddenly look cool ... you can forget it. I respect your outlook on cussing, but you really need to respect mine. I have a higher level of self-respect and a better code of morals than you. I won't say derogatory things, I won't use racial slurs, I won't cuss and I won't do nasty things to people. I won't kill anyone unless my method of self defense just so happens to cause them to..."

"Ah shaddap. I like you, kid. I'm jus' raggin' on ya. Seems like you could use th' emotional fortitude. Now." Rufus rubbed his palms together. "We should take a hostage. Maybe th' Captain or the guy sitting on the bridge right now. Then we turn this boat right 'round, and head back t' Florida. You ready to rock?"

"What does Sinopa think?"

"She thinks I should stay outta trouble while she searches the island."

Evan folded his arms. "Really? And you wanna take hostages and rough up the crew? What would she think of that idea?"

Rufus grimaced.

"I take it, based on that sour look you just gave me, that she wouldn't approve. Why don't we just lay low until she returns?"

"Okay. We gotta make our way back up to the front of th' ship. They're unloading containers so we best be careful, now, hear? She left her clothes in box number 3773 and we gotta get'em for her. Before they unload tha' one. Then we'll hide out on the island and watch the pier for her return. She'sa fox right now."

Evan tilted his head, looking at him with a roll of his eyes. "A fox huh? A naked fox, leaving her clothes on the ship?"

"Naw, man. An actual feral freakin' fox. Trottin' around the way'a cat prances."

"Say what?"

"Yeah, hoss. An actual animal, smaller than mos' dogs. She's scoutin' the island. I thought you seen her do tha' trick 'afore."

"Here's the plan: let's try to get to the front, gather her clothes, and get off this ship for the time being. Without being seen."

"Yeah, yeah. A'right, kiddo. Follow me 'n stay quiet. The nose knows. C'mon, now."

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Next chapter: https://www.sofurry.com/view/648951