Guardian: the Beginning

By Pernell Gibson

In the year 2017 most of mankind has become complacent and reckless, depending mainly on logic and finite wisdom. Psalmulus Grey, an emotionally scarred, fifteen-year-old participant of this world order, lives within its guidelines until one night when an angel of God appears before him and makes it clear that he is one of the Fathers chosen. Meanwhile a much more sinister plan is unfolding within the city of Neo Creek between Maxwell Steeleworthy, a wealthy capitalist, and Zegudalia, a demonic being from the Abyss. In an epic battle of divined proportions, Psalmulus manifests vast supernatural abilities as he struggles with the decision to fulfill Gods will for his life and become a Guardian of Light or succumb to his own vengeful desires. Many forces from the side of light as well as darkness rise to the occasion to see their goals met as Psalmulus is forced to do battle with humans and demons alike, but most of all--himself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 27, 2008
• ISBN: 9781462835973

Book preview

GUARDIAN

T H E B E G I N N I N G

P E R N E L L G I B S O N

Copyright © 2008 by Pernell Gibson.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.\

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Every since I was a small child I’ve always had the feeling that something or someone was watching over me. I’ve always knew who God was or at least in the most basic form in regards to the category the world puts him in, but anything further than that was never really touched upon in the early years. My mom and my grandmother made sure I knew that Jesus was real, but anything in regards to church or organized religion was never elaborated on—at least not in the right way. As I emerged into my pre-teens I began to think that the modern day church was much too tainted for God to ever be apart of it. That mindset was based solely off of those who claimed to be his representatives, but displayed none of the characteristics of the Jesus I knew. By the time I reached my tenth grade year in high school I was just like any normal teenage boy trying to understand his role in existence. I believe the only difference was I felt like I actually had a true purpose, but I didn’t know where to start looking and I was too frustrated with God to really see it right off the bat. I’ve always felt like God was there with me and due to the absence of my actual father I believe he acted as my heavenly father and my earthly father. However, just like earthly fathers and their children, there were always things that were a mystery or not understood on my end, which caused anger and frustration within me toward God. I questioned God about many things in my life, why we were poor, why I felt so different—as if I didn’t belong, why was there a struggle with everything that I did and why couldn’t anything ever come easy? It wasn’t until later that I got my answers. He was shaping me and molding me for what was to come, and I haven’t quite figured out what it is yet, but I believe the time is almost here. During my tenth grade year in high school God began to show me supernatural things and how things worked in the spiritual realm in regards to the light and the darkness. Of course back then I didn’t even know where the ideas came from, but I knew the stories that began to form in my mind were more than just fiction—it was something that was divinely inspired as well as a personal biography. As I’ve gotten older I have come to see that God used everyone around me, whether they believed in him or not, to get his point across to me in some way shape or form. I am now twenty-four years old and because of the tests that God has put me through I absolutely adore my friends, family, and all those he used. Before starting this book I was talking with the Lord and I was explaining to him how I loved martial artists and all of the things they could accomplish in combat using their body alone. I remember the Lord said, There was a time when those type of talents were needed most in the world, but now—those are not the type of warriors that I am looking for. The story that you are about to read is indeed a tale of those types of warriors that God spoke of.

Chapter 1

GENESIS

The sun is shining on a beautiful summer day; the city is in full swing as the bright colors of the season glimmer off everything they touch.

A young boy and his mother stand amid a crowd of people right in the heart of the city around lunchtime. The small African American boy who is dressed in blue shorts, a white T-shirt, and worn-out white sneakers eats on an ice cream bar as he watches his mother pick fruit out of a bin in front of a sidewalk grocery store. His mother looks down at him and smiles a grin that could soothe and warm the coldest heart; her eyes have all the love a person can bear. She’s a very beautiful woman inside and out, with long jet-black hair that comes to the middle of her back. All her inner beauty is displayed whenever she smiles. She’s very classy, but not in the traditional sense of clothing; it’s all in the way she carries herself. However, that warm smile of hers slowly fades into a look of disbelief as she notices the detail on her son’s face; she’s unable to believe that he was able to get that much chocolate and vanilla on his face from that one ice cream bar.

She asks with a slight giggle, Boy, what did I tell you about wiping your face when you’re eating?

The son smiles an infectious smile surrounded by melted chocolate and vanilla ice cream. But, Momma, you said to wipe when I’m done eating.

He laughs as he holds up a half-eaten ice cream bar. "I ain’t done yet!"

His mother also laughs as she pulls out of her purse a wet nap she keeps handy especially for her son just in case situations like this occur. She throws it over his face, wiping the last bit off his forehead.

There, that looks a lot better, she says right before she kisses her son on the cheek.

He flashes that same infectious grin again. Love you, Momma!

Smiling already, she touches his cheek and says, I love you too, baby.

The vigorous colors that were all about the city slowly fade, and the surroundings become shadows of black and gray. The people in the city appear to move in slow motion; the small boy looks around as he seems to notice all of the vibrant colors have faded away. His mother looks up in the sky at the clouds that appeared so quickly over the area. There’s a loud crash in the street as an SUV collides with a luxury sedan; glass flies all over the street and even hits some people on the sidewalk. The boy drops what remains of his ice cream bar as he covers his face out of fear; his mother grabs him and shields her son from the flying glass and metal. When she lets go of him, she looks him over and smiles at him, realizing he isn’t harmed. The small boy begins to smile back at his mother, but he sees over her shoulder while she’s crouched down a figure moving rapidly in their direction. His face gradually takes on a frightened expression as he sees the dark figure rushing through the crowd of people; the face he sees coming toward them has no visible facial features, but the eyes are big and yellowish white. His mother’s face looks disturbed as she notices her son’s expression; she stands up straight to turn around and sees this monstrous figure reaching for her. In shock, she throws her hands in front of her as she yells, Shanana loma barasa! The figure staggers off course and flies backward, disintegrating into nothingness. She quickly spins around to scan the area of passing people and to get an idea where her son is, and she notices that he isn’t where she left him. He was being distanced from her due to the frantic crowd of scurrying people. Just then, she spots him and notices another shady figure emerging from the crowd headed straight for her son at a rapid pace. The only details visible about this figure are the fiery orange eyes it possesses and long talons extending toward her son.

She cries out in desperation, Psalmulus!

Her son just stands there in a state of shock as he glances at his mother. With the quickness of the wind itself, she takes off toward her son, dodging and weaving through anything in her way.

In the blink of an eye, she’s standing in front of her son with this shady figure hunched over her shoulder with bulging eyes as if it’s in pain, and then it vanishes into thin air as the ashes it leaves behind are carried away in the wind. Her son, Psalmulus, watches in shock at the event and notices blood dripping on the sidewalk as people start to gather around.

A voice yells out, Someone call the police!

As his mother falls to her knees, someone in the crowd yells, Somebody call an ambulance! She’s hurt!

The mother falls backward to lie flat on the ground, exposing a bloody wound to her stomach. Her son crouches down over her and begins to cry after seeing all the blood. She slowly reaches up to wipe his tears, and for the last time, she flashes a smile that can calm a volcano. Her eyes begin to close, her smile slowly fades, and she breathes her last breath. In a burst of tears, the young boy begins to cry out; the sound seems to echo as if his very own heart has been torn from him as the scenery gets blurry from his tears. A loud buzzing noise disrupts all other sounds and the very atmosphere itself.

A young man rises up from a bed; quickly throwing all of the covers off in the process as he reaches to stop the sound of the buzzing alarm clock that reads 7:00 a.m. He slowly sits over the edge of his bed, wiping the cold sweat from his face.

With a look of frustration, he mutters, The same dream again. Get a grip, Psalmulus.

As he stands up, he grabs his glasses from the dresser and begins to walk into the bathroom to get cleaned up. The young man stands in the mirror as he brushes his teeth, foam from the toothpaste splatters on his bronze skin. He stands about five feet ten inches, with short wavy black hair that fades into his scalp; Psalmulus Grey isn’t the most confident person, and he has all of the worries of a normal fifteen-year-old. But even though he seems haunted by something in his past, his best qualities show when he’s being kind and in the effect he has on everyone around him.

As he walks out of his room fully clothed, he hears, Breakfast is served. Come and get it!

He yells back while grabbing his book bag, Here I come, Grandma!

Walking down the stairs and into the hallway, he passes the living room; it brings back a fond memory of him, his mother, and his older sister—who ran away not long after their mother died—playing a board game. Psalmulus continues to walk down the hallway of the old but comfy home until he reaches the kitchen. Running up to him before he enters the kitchen doorway is his dog, Trinity; she’s a big beautiful German shepherd mixed with collie and is always filled with vigor. Psalmulus pats her on the head as they play in the hall for a few seconds. He finally walks in the kitchen, and he sees Grandma Grey standing there preparing the table. She’s a kind African American woman in her early sixties; she has shoulder-length black-and-gray hair. When Psalmulus looks at her, he sees many likenesses of his deceased mother.

She looks over at him and says vibrantly, I made your favorite. Pancakes, cheese eggs, and bacon.

He smiles and says, Thanks, Grandma, but I can’t eat much. I have to get to school early today.

Jokingly she responds, Well, judging from that last algebra test, you could use the food for thought.

C’mon, Grandma, that was a cheap shot! Psalmulus says with a chuckle.

She holds Psalmulus by the shoulder as she sits him down. Oh come now, grandson, you know I’m kidding. Besides, you have a whole hour, and we don’t talk like we used to anymore.

He looks down in a guilty manner as he realizes that since those strange dreams started, he’s been distant toward everyone around him.

What do you wanna talk about? he responds.

Grandma Grey sits down across from Psalmulus at the midsized wooden table; adjusting herself in her seat, she says, Well, for instance, how is school going?

Fine, I guess, Psalmulus replies as if something else is on his mind.

His grandmother notices from his facial expression that Psalmulus’s mind is elsewhere.

Now, baby, I know there’s been something bothering you for a while now. And I’ve tried to mind my own business, but you are my business, so tell Grandma what the matter is.

Hesitantly he says, I just miss Momma.

She puts her hands on the table over his, saying, I know you do baby. But when your mother, Gladice, died, she went home to the heaven land. She wouldn’t want you worrying about her. She’s with Jesus now.

Psalmulus sits there in silence, but his face begins to show a little frustration toward his grandmother’s words.

All those stories your mother told you and your sister weren’t for entertainment alone. It was from the Living Book of God. Those words in that book possess so much power if you have faith in Jesus, she says to her grandson.

Psalmulus says in a more than frustrated tone, Then where was Jesus when she was killed?

Grandma Grey looks at him with very sympathetic and understanding eyes.

He continues, Momma had more faith than anyone I know of, and he still didn’t save her that day! Why should I trust someone like that?

Don’t talk like that, boy. Jesus is real, and he never mistreats any of his people, not even those who don’t believe in him, she explains to her grandson.

Psalmulus, already upset, says nothing else but just sits there and eats his breakfast. Grandma Grey gets up from her side of the table and begins to comfort her grandson.

Psalmulus, you are a very special boy. Your momma and I knew it when you were born. God has chosen you to do great things in this life. I know you’re mad right now, but you’ll see that everything your mother ever taught you is very real.

There’s a knock at the door; Grandma Grey and Psalmulus both look at each other and then toward the front door inquisitively.

Now who could that be this early in the morning? Oh, it’s probably those two friends of yours coming to see if you’re ready for school, she says.

As she goes to the door, she notices the sheriff’s squad car parked in front of the house.

What in the world? she says reaching for the doorknob.

The door opens, and the sheriff is standing there in full uniform with black sunglasses on and holding some papers in his hand.

He extends his hand to Grandma Grey and says, Here you are, ma’am.

What is this? she asks confusingly.

The sheriff says, Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am. Your bank, they’re foreclosing on your home. This is an eviction notice. Didn’t you get a call or something in the mail?

At that moment, Psalmulus comes to the doorway; he looks at the sheriff and then at his grandmother.

What’s wrong, Grandma? he asks.

Ignoring Psalmulus’s question, she says, But how? I’ve made all of my payments to the bank on time. How can they do this?

I’m sorry, ma’am, you’ll have to contact them to find out more, the sheriff says.

As the sheriff walks away to get in his car and drive off, Grandma Grey and Psalmulus are left just standing there in the doorway.

Psalmulus asks again, Grandma, what was that about? What’s wrong?

After his grandmother doesn’t reply, he simply looks down at the papers himself; his eyes grow wide with shock as he becomes enraged at the writing on the paper. There in bold print at the top, it reads Eviction Notice.

Eviction notice, but how? he yells out.

After a long silence, Grandma Grey takes a deep breath and finally regains her composure. She folds the papers and turns to look at an upset and confused Psalmulus.

She says in a comforting tone, Don’t worry about this. Child, I’ll just go down to the bank, and it’ll get fixed later on this afternoon.

Psalmulus replies, Grandma, this makes no sense. They can’t do this. It’s just not right!

Calm down, baby, this ol’ piece of paper doesn’t mean anything. If we have faith in Jesus, it’ll all work itself out fine, she says smiling at her angered grandson.

I’m sorry, Grandma. All we’ve ever known is poverty and the worry of where the next meal will come from. I believe he exists, but unlike you, I don’t think I can serve or trust a god that’s never been there when he was really needed, Psalmulus says.

Oh, Psalmulus, you don’t mean that, Grandma Grey says with a disappointing expression.

Walking away, Psalmulus only replies, Love you, Grandma, I’ll see you when I get home from school.

Grandma Grey just stands there with somewhat of a saddened look on her face as she watches her grandson walk down the street. While standing there, she glances past a couple of other rooftops as she’s about to turn around to go inside. She’s not quite sure of herself, but she thought she saw a bright hooded figure in some sort of white cloak walking along the rooftops across the street in the same direction as Psalmulus.

Quickly dismissing the thought, she thinks to herself, I must be getting old. Now I’m seeing things. She chuckles to herself as she walks inside and closes the door.

Downtown Neo Creek is always a busy place no matter what time of the day it is, but mornings are the equivalent of rush hour in New York City. With the city’s main trade being the buying and selling of metals and other rare artifacts, it’s easy to describe Neo Creek as being a jungle made up of metal and glass. People are marching every which way with no guidance; there are cars, cabs, trucks, and police cars that fill the streets. The most action occurs, however, at the First National Bank in the mornings; the building is one of the tallest buildings in the city measuring at thirty-three floors. This building is made up of glass almost entirely; the interiors of each floor are that of a normal office area, smelling of breakfast bagels and coffee. Secretaries and other employees scurry about taking papers and files to their designated bosses while on the bottom floors, people come in depositing and withdrawing money. On the thirty-third floor is the most important floor in terms of rank and activity because on that particular floor, in the biggest office, is the bank’s president, overseeing all that goes on with the bank down to the smallest detail.

Like every morning, the president’s assistant, Michelle, is busy on the phone with very important calls, talking to various higher-ups from other banks and facilities from other cities. She’s an attractive young woman with short brown hair and a natural tan. She’s around eighteen years old.

Yes, Sheriff Randal, I’ll tell Mr. Steeleworthy right away, she says as she hurriedly gets out of her office chair.

Approaching Mr. Steeleworthy’s office, the door is cracked open just a little. She hears him talking to someone, but she’s sure no one is in there because she knew he had no appointments scheduled, not to mention she didn’t send anyone in.

As she looks through the crack in the door, she can see Mr. Steeleworthy sitting in his chair partly facing the wall. Maxwell Steeleworthy is a distinguished man in his early forties that when he’s standing, he is around six foot three, very professional looking; and his dark brown hair is always slicked back. His assistant hears him talking in a low tone to someone with the lights dimmed and the curtains closed; he has his headset on, but the call light isn’t on.

The assistant slowly pushes the door open, saying, Umm… Excuse me, Mr. Steeleworthy?

Maxwell Steeleworthy, appearing to try and conceal his surprised look, begins to talk louder, Yes, not a problem, Mr. Yen. It’s a pleasure to do business with you!

Taking off his headset, he turns his office chair to face his assistant as she opens the door completely and walks into the room.

Can I help you, Michelle? he says with a calm face and in a stern tone.

Stopping as far as ten feet away from his desk out of fear, she says, I’m sorry, Mr. Steeleworthy, but Sheriff Randal wanted me to tell you that everyone on the list has been notified as of this morning.

Thank you for the information, he replies calmly.

You’re welcome, Mr. Steeleworthy, she says as she quickly turns toward the door to leave.

He prompts, Oh, and, Michelle?

Turning back toward him, she says, Yes, Mr. Steeleworthy?

I suggest you learn to knock next time you need to see me if you expect to keep working here, he says to her.

Yes, sir, I’m sorry, Mr. Steeleworthy, she says as she quickly leaves his office.

Mr. Steeleworthy turns his chair away from the door back in the direction it was facing before his assistant came in. A dark figure emerges from the shadows in the room near the curtains close to the wall.

That was a good save, Maxi boy. I was beginning to think you were losing your edge judging from how jumpy you appeared when your lovely assistant walked in on you and me, the figure says tauntingly.

Steeleworthy replies in a frustrated tone, Don’t worry about me. You heard her. All is in place. I’ll do my part, and you do yours.

The figure replies, Oh, believe me, Maxwell, I plan to do every bit of what I promised and more—with or without you on board.

Steeleworthy looks away from the figure, clearly offended by the words that he’d just spoken.

Oh, and, Maxi boy, remember one thing for me, would you?

No sooner than Steeleworthy looks back in the direction of the figure, he is right in his face with both hands pressed on the arms of his chair, leaving claw marks. His face is a dark gray color, and all of his visible skin looks textured like dried cement; his hair appears to be thick and spiked like a porcupine’s body, and his eyes burn a fiery red color. With his sharp teeth shown, he speaks with a smiling snarl, but in a very clear tone saying, You work for me.

Maxwell Steeleworthy, a much-feared individual himself, is left just as afraid as the people he intimidates; he watches the figure jump back into the shadows and disappear into the darkness as if never there.

Five miles farther away from downtown Neo Creek is Rising Sun High School. The school resides in a very peaceful setting; there are some buildings and traffic near the school, just nowhere near as busy as the downtown area. Rising Sun High School looks peaceful on the outside with its four-story structure, a floor for each grade; but on the inside, teenagers from grades nine through twelve run these halls. It’s not a bad school having some of the most sophisticated technology to work with, but it’s still a whole other world when you’re inside the school; the students appear to have a system that most of them follow. There’s an unwritten law that the strongest and the most popular are in charge of what goes on among the students.

After his first class ends, Psalmulus is in the hallway on the third floor at his locker; he’s having trouble opening it up because he still has what happened earlier that morning on his mind. Out of frustration, he kicks the locker, and it leaves a dent; suddenly, he feels a hand tap him on his shoulder. When he turns around, he see his best friend, Zenken Mihoshi, standing there grinning at him and his other friend Krystal Faré standing there shaking her head with a slight smirk. Zenken is a short Chinese teen four months younger than Psalmulus. He stands about five feet five inches and has jet-black hair about two inches past his ears; he’s a sophomore and practices acrobatics, martial arts, and the sciences. Krystal is a beautiful and flashy-dressed African American teen. She wears her hair in a ponytail that comes past the middle of her back. Having just turned sixteen years old, she’s the oldest out of the three friends, and she’s a little taller than Zenken; she’s a sophomore and also a brain when it comes to electronics and technology but mainly sticks to playing volleyball and doing gymnastics.

Oh, hey, guys, what’s up? Psalmulus says after he turns to see them.

Zenken says in a tease, Apparently, your blood pressure. We saw you kick the locker.

Yeah, what’s your problem this morning? Krystal adds to the conversation.

Psalmulus stares at the ground, frustrated; then he replies, My grandma got an eviction notice this morning. The bank is foreclosing on our house.

What? Krystal says surprisingly.

Zenken adds, They can’t do that to Grandma!

I don’t know, I’ve just had a pretty annoying morning in general, Psalmulus says, closing his locker after finally getting it open to get his books.

Hey y’all, what’s going on? a voice behind Psalmulus says.

As he turns around, he sees Tamara Harvey; she’s a childhood friend of Psalmulus and Zenken since they were very young. Tamara is the youngest, having just turned fifteen years old only two days prior. She’s a sophomore at the school and a cheerleader, along with being a cute perky teenage girl with a caramel skin tone and shoulder-length black hair.

Zenken says, Well, hello, stranger, long time no see. How have you been?

I’ve been okay. I just saw you guys gathered over here, and I thought I’d come and say hello, Tamara says.

She looks at Psalmulus who is picking up his book bag; they make eye contact with each other.

Psalmulus says nervously, Hey, Tamara. Then he regains his composure, saying, What have you been up to?

She giggles and smiles at him, saying, Nothing really, just being here at school and cheerleading.

Then there’s an awkward silence that seems to last a lifetime; Zenken and Krystal both look at each other and snicker at Psalmulus and Tamara who seem to be lost in a trance staring at each other. The school bell rings, and that breaks the two out of the trance.

Oh, I, uh, have to go to my next class. See you guys later. Psalmulus starts to walk off.

Psalmulus is halfway down the hall before he finally hears Zenken calling his name.

Hey, Psalms, wait up! Zenken runs up to Psalmulus. While laughing, he says, Man, what the heck was all that about?

Nothing, I just have a lot on my mind, that’s all, Psalmulus responds.

Oh, I believe that, but I think… You like Tamara, you like Tamara, you like Tama—

Psalmulus cuts in, Oh, will you shut up? No, I don’t!

It’s silent, and Psalmulus looks over at Zenken who is looking at him with one eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face.

Whatever! I do not! Psalmulus says again.

Zenken says, Ya know what? I’d almost believe you if you didn’t look at her the way you did. I mean she’s not the same little girl she was when we played at the park all day all those years ago. I almost started to put a bib around your neck from all the drooling you were doing.

Zenken, laughing hysterically at his own comment, turns the corner to the next hallway along with Psalmulus. There, by the water fountain, they see Phillip Steeleworthy and two of his friends. Phillip is in the twelfth grade and is the star quarterback of the varsity football team. He has many of the same likenesses of his father, Maxwell Steeleworthy; only he has blonde hair and is just a little shorter.

One of Phillip’s friends taps him, and the three turn to look at the two underlings coming in their direction.

Well, hey there, kiddies, what are you two losers doing in our hallway? Phillip asks.

Zenken fires back, "Well, meathead, if you don’t mind, we’re going to class."

Phillip scowls at Zenken, asking, What’d you just say, you little midget?

Phillip looks over to his two friends and motions them toward the direction of Zenken with his eyes and a nod of his head.

Unaware, Zenken says, I said you smell like toenails!

Just as those words leave his mouth, Phillip’s two lackeys have Zenken by the arms, one brute locking up each of his arms.

Hey! Zenken yells.

Leave him alone! Psalmulus yells.

Phillip says cockily, Oh, I can, and I will for a little fee. How much do you losers got on you?

We’re not giving you anything, you meat-headed jock! Zenken yells.

Phillip says smirking as he motions to his friends with another head nod, Wrong answer. They understand and nod as if they’ve done this before; they slam Zenken into a locker and, one at a time, begin to punch him in his stomach as he cries out in pain.

Psalmulus tries to rush over to his friend, but Phillip immediately steps in his way; grabbing Psalmulus by the shoulders, he slams him into a locker, cornering him and holding him there.

Phillip looks at Psalmulus, grinning. What will it be, twerp?

Gritting his teeth out of anger and a little pain, he slowly reaches in his pocket, pulls out five dollars, and gives it to Phillip. With one hand holding up Psalmulus and the other taking the money, he appears to get angry when he looks at the bill.

Five dollars, that’s all you got is five dollars? I was born with more money than this on me! Phillip says as he looks over at his two friends as the three begin to laugh.

Psalmulus looks at him as if he’s about to explode with rage, so much that he sheds a few tears.

Phillip looks at him, saying, What’s this? You’re crying? Guys, check this out! The baby is crying!

The two guys drop Zenken as they walk to where Phillip is holding Psalmulus.

Zenken, who looks to be a little in pain, slowly stands to his feet; he weakly takes his martial arts stance, appearing to really mean business and is done cracking jokes.

Let Psalmulus go, Zenken demands angrily.

Phillip looks over at Zenken, then back at Psalmulus, and he starts to laugh a little.

Psalmulus, your last name is Grey, isn’t it? Phillip asks.

Psalmulus looks up at Phillip confusingly.

He continues, You wouldn’t be related to the same Greys that have been evicted from their house, would you? If you are, I wouldn’t have bothered you for your measly five bucks. I saw the last name on the list my father had for the houses that were to be torn down to make way for a project of his.

Psalmulus says gritting his teeth, Your father… is responsible?

Phillip says, Yeah, Maxwell Steeleworthy. He only runs the largest bank in town. He may as well be running the entire city, and one day, I’ll take over from where he leaves off.

He and his friends begin to laugh loudly; and with a battle cry that echoes through the hallway, Psalmulus loses control and headbutts Phillip so hard, he staggers back several feet, holding his nose.

After seeing his nose is gushing blood, Phillip becomes enraged that someone he considers a peasant has made him bleed his own blood. You freak! You’ve broken my nose! he yells.

Psalmulus is standing there, breathing heavily as his body looks to be giving off a large amount of heat due to the steam rising from him; he appears to be in complete rage and out of his mind as he walks toward Phillip. Zenken stands there in shock as he watches the usually passive and mild-mannered Psalmulus in rare form.

As Phillip’s two friends rush toward Psalmulus, he takes the blows they deliver to him and returns several blows just as hard and sends them, one at a time, into the walls of the school. They hit the wall so hard, teachers and students begin to emerge from the classrooms in wonderment as to what caused the loud noise.

One of the students yells out, FIGHT!

As teachers rush to get other staff for backup, the students crowd around Psalmulus and Phillip who are now going at it blow for blow, throwing flurries of hard-hitting punches. One of the blows Phillip delivers to Psalmulus knocks him so hard into a locker, his body print is left there. After that, he rushes back toward Phillip, delivering a blow to his face that spins him around off balance into the trash cans, making a loud crashing sound.

Psalmulus stands there in rage as he looks at Phillip struggling to get up; he catches the eyes of Tamara as she watches in shock looking at the quiet yet goofy boy she grew up with become something she thought was out of his character. Psalmulus’s face changes as he sees her; then suddenly, he becomes completely aware of the situation he’s in. Right at that moment, Phillip cracks Psalmulus over the head with one of the trash cans, knocking him to the ground hard. Phillip prepares to hit him again with it but is tackled by the principal and some of the other staff as they drag him to the principal’s office.

As Psalmulus lies there on his stomach in pain, he feels embarrassment and lingering anger as everyone stares at him. Feeling tired of always being picked on by those in a higher position than he, he makes a secret vow to himself that from now on, he’s going to take action and change his situation into what he wants it to be.

Zenken and Tamara come over to help Psalmulus up; but even though his eyes are a little blurry, he sees past the crowd of students a woman dressed in white and gold garments who very much resembles his mother, standing there smiling that same comforting smile he hasn’t seen since the day she was killed.

Then finally, overcome by emotion and pain, he begins to pass out. As his vision fades, he says, It can’t be… Momma?

Chapter 2

TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS

It’s lunchtime for the students of Rising Sun High. Many of the seniors take the privilege of going to lunch outside of the school’s walls. The permission was granted to them by the superintendent to all seniors because it’s their final year. Many of the juniors also sneak off to lunch with some of the seniors as well as in their own groups—partly because they don’t like the school’s cooking, but mostly because some of them like the rush of knowing they’re disobeying school policy.

Atop of the high school, however, away from all the confusion on the streets and sidewalks, stands a bright, glowing figure draped with a white hooded cloak that blows around in the wind. The angel Mikal stands at about six foot six; concealed within his cloak is a defined muscular body. His skin color appears to be nicely tanned, and he has a bluish white glow that surrounds him so brightly that if he wasn’t a spiritual being, he could be seen from miles away. Mikal stands there watching the life below; suddenly, he feels a negative energy all about the rooftops as he realizes there are several small creatures not too far behind him that smell of sulfur and look like disfigured insects, some with wings and some without. They try to sneak about while his back is turned, but he feels the need to make it aware the he knows they’re there.

Tell me, imps, why do you come here? Mikal asks.

The imps jump at the sound of his commanding voice; one brave yet cowardly imp spins around and points a sword at him, shaking it around in fear, saying, We not have to tell you anything, you dirty angel!

With a smirk, Mikal starts to chuckle as he’s turning around to face the imps. The thought of one of these creatures calling him dirty is rather humorous to him; he looks at them while crossing his arms, saying, You’ve got to be kidding me.

All of the other imps jump behind the imp who was brave enough to speak to the large angel. We will kill you if you do not leave here! We have business here, you don’t! the leading imp shouts.

Raising his right arm out to his side, a huge sparkling broadsword forms near his hand out of what appears to be the particles in the air itself. Mikal grabs the sword and holds it straight out in front of him, saying, On the contrary, my business is where Lord Jesus sends me. I’ve not been instructed to start a battle, but I do have permission to finish what is started against me.

The imps stand there hissing and snarling at Mikal while he stands there with perfect posture and with his sword raised directly in front of him. All the rest of the imps draw their swords as they stand there shaking. It gets silent as the wind blows through all who stand on the rooftop; then suddenly, the silence is broken by an unseen voice.

Now now now. Calm down, imps. I’m sure General Mikal didn’t come all the way down here from the heaven land just to disrupt our fun with the local teens, says the same figure that was with Maxwell Steeleworthy in his office. He stands at six foot five, with cement like gray skin, spiked porcupine hair, black eyes with crimson pupils, and sharp fangs. He appears out of thin air walking to the front of where all of the imps are standing together.

Mikal frowns as he realizes who has interrupted the environment. Zegudalia, he says grimly.

Zegudalia grins, baring his sharp fangs. Aw, General Mikal, you remember me. I’m touched, he says in a shocked but taunting manner.

What is a rebel demon like you doing here with some of Belial’s army? Mikal asks.

Zegudalia walks to the edge of the roof and looks over at Mikal, saying, It appears my no-longer ex-employer has decided to put me back in his good graces as long as I do a little deed for him.

What might that be? Mikal says, lowering his sword.

Looking over the edge of the school’s roof, Zegudalia begins to laugh loudly. "Look at all those fools down there. They have no clue as to what’s going on. To answer your question, let’s just say that Belial is taking his first step to reclaiming this world. If you let him tell it, this planet is rightfully his in the first place," he says.

Pointing his sword at Zegudalia, Mikal speaks in a stern, commanding voice, saying, Belial owns nothing that the Father has created.

Calm down, angel, don’t get your wings in a knot. I don’t care who wins this godforsaken war. I have my own plans to deal with, Zegudalia says callously.

You, Zegudalia, are the worst kind of being. You fight only for yourself, Mikal responds.

Walking away from the edge of the building, Zegudalia stands in front of the imps once more and says, Perhaps, Mikal. But because of that, I roam freely.

Then in a dash mixed with blurring speed, Zegudalia charges at Mikal and proclaims, And I serve no master!

Zegudalia draws a sword of his own; it has a red blade, and it connects with Mikal’s blade, creating a huge spark that resembles a lightning bolt. The two spirit beings clash blades, jumping around with amazing speed. Zegudalia slashes at Mikal’s side but only catches his cloak. Mikal spins around and slashes Zegudalia’s back, causing him to go tumbling forward. The angel gets a running start and jumps high into the air with his sword raised, preparing to deliver the final blow to the stunned demon.

Zegudalia rolls out of the way as Mikal’s sword slams into the ground, creating a large spark and gust of wind. Pulling a sharp dagger out of his skin, Zegudalia throws it at Mikal. Attempting to dodge the dagger, Mikal gets the dagger impaled into his leg. He glances down and quickly removes it with a slight grunt as white sparks shoot out of his leg for a brief moment, but when he looks up, Zegudalia and the imps have gone.

As the angel Mikal begins to stand up straight holding his hand out to his side, making his sword disperse into the air, he begins to look up at the sky, saying, Lord Jesus, I believe I have my work cut out for me. I just pray that the boy is ready for what’s ahead.

On the outskirts of Neo Creek where the city begins to look more like a country setting is the sheriff’s department. The inside of this place looks to be refurbished, but the design of the rooms makes it obvious it has been around for a while. The smell of Hot Pockets from the microwave fill the office of Deputy Mark Stevens, a young man in his mid-twenties who’s only real view on life is how he can do his job and still do as little as possible.

Sitting there eating and watching the news, Deputy Stevens rises up at one of the topics for the afternoon. A nice-looking woman reporter for the Channel 3 news stands there in downtown Neo Creek speaking.

Who are the Black Dragons? Many of us want to know. Some think they are a band of rebels, some believe they are an extension of the Mafia, while others recall personal accounts of encountering the Black Dragons, and they call them heroes, the reporter says.

Sitting back in his chair, Deputy Stevens watches rare clips of some members of the Black Dragons caught on tape in full uniform.

These folks can’t be serious. How can a band of people like that be considered heroes? If they’re heroes, why the disguises? Deputy Stevens asks suspiciously.

The door in the front flies open and in comes Sheriff Bill Randal, an older distinguished man in his late fifties, with graying hair that’s visible as he takes off his hat and sets it on the counter.

Walking out of his office in the back, Deputy Stevens sees Sheriff Randal standing there as if he’s thinking.

Oh, hey, Sheriff, I was hoping it was you. I got a question for ya. What do you think of those Black Dragon characters? Do you think they can or can’t be trusted? he asks.

Snapping out of his trance by Deputy Stevens’s questions, he answers while walking toward his office, I don’t condone rebel activity in any way, but there are people far worse than those of the Black Dragons. You’ll do well to learn that.

Sheriff Randal closes the door behind him.

What’s his problem today? Deputy Stevens says with a puzzled look.

Sitting behind the desk in his darkened office, Sheriff Randal ponders to himself the events of earlier this morning. He knows many of the families on the list of people that were to be evicted, and many of them always paid their mortgage on time; a few of them were well-off and had no reason to not pay. Sheriff Randal knows Maxwell Steeleworthy runs the First National Bank of Neo Creek and is also a pretty powerful businessman, but he has also heard the rumors of him having the entire police department under his thumb and even having dealings with the Mafia.

Thinking of his own suspicions and mixing them in with reality, he frowns as he looks over at a picture of a beautiful young girl in her early twenties on the wall and says, What are you really up to, Maxwell?

There are some areas in Neo Creek that residents shouldn’t venture to and especially tourists. One of those most popular areas is what everyone calls Slum Valley. This place is home to many homeless people who have no hope of entering the world outside of Slum Valley. In this area, anyone young or old is liable to get mugged, kidnapped, or murdered depending on the fiend that’s lurking in the shadows at the time. Although Slum Valley is very close to downtown, most traffic stops running through there at a certain time of the day. However, in an old decaying and abandoned warehouse that was used for storing car parts dwells Slum Valley’s only hope for reform and prosperity, the Black Dragons.

The interior of this place is slightly dim with the exception of the sunlight that is seeping through the painted windows around the warehouse. Standing in a crescent, the members of the Black Dragons deliberate with their leader about their recent attention due to the city’s recent news coverage. There are seven members in the Black Dragons in all, but only three have actual ranks; the overall leader of the team is Luke Sanzo who was given the street name King early throughout his life for unknown reasons. Luke is nineteen years old and is of Italian descent. He has straight jet-black hair that travels a little past his shoulders, a nicely trimmed beard on his chin, and a very muscular body; and he stands at six feet four inches tall.

Luke is an overall nice guy and is coolheaded most of the time, but if you cross him the wrong way, he can be very vicious.

Okay, everybody, listen up. We’ve been gettin’ real careless lately. Our main objective is to expose Maxwell Steeleworthy for what he really is. To get exposed by him and the rest of the world by getting caught on candid camera is not in the plan, is it? Luke says in a serious but joking tone.

Another one of the members named Gear responds in a mystified manner, I don’t understand how we were caught on camera by anyone, even if it was a civilian bystander. I thoroughly checked all perimeters those two nights!

Yeah, I was with you when you did it! Man, I’m telling you, Luke, I believe the old man is onto us somehow. I mean, we’re already certain he deals with the Mafia, and who knows how many other illegal projects, says Ace, another member of the team.

The other members begin to agree and discuss their thoughts among themselves. Luke stands there with a composed but inquisitive look on his face as he wonders if Maxwell Steeleworthy is catching onto them, and if so, how?

Out of a hole in the warehouse ceiling, two figures drop down out of it—two females who are also the other two in command behind Luke. Terra is second in command due to being Luke’s childhood friend; she’s eighteen, has short brown hair, is slender, and is five feet five inches tall. Third in command is newcomer Jade; though she is considered the rookie of the team, her fighting abilities exceed her inexperience. Jade is fifteen and is of Latin ancestry. She has shoulder-length black hair, a slender yet full body, and stands at five feet seven inches tall.

Terra hurriedly walks over to Luke pulling something out of a big pouch on her side, extends her arm to hand him a large sheet of rolled-up paper, and says, We retrieved the blueprints for Steeleworthy’s so-called top secret project we’ve been investigating.

Grabbing the blueprints from Terra’s hand, Luke opens the rolled-up paper in a hurry as all of the other members gather around to see what’s on the blueprint as well.

How did you get this? Luke says surprisingly.

Terra responds, smiling and looking over at Jade, Our little prodigy Jade here snuck into Steeleworthy’s office at Steeleworthy Industries while I played decoy to the guards.

Looking down at the ground blushing, Jade speaks humbly, Oh, it was nothing really. Terra distracted the guards so that I could get in. She did most of the work.

Luke smiles at Jade and then continues to look at the blueprints. He says, Whatever Steeleworthy is planning, this blueprint doesn’t tell us that much other than he’s gonna build some kind of contraption.

A sentence at the bottom of the blueprint suddenly catches his eye. Luke’s eyes squint in confusion as he reads it under his breath aloud, The gate…

Jade points out some weird writing at the bottom of the paper

What the heck does that say? she asks.

Luke looks at it, focusing on a language whose characters are completely new to him, and says, I don’t know, Jade. I really don’t even know what language this could be considered as.

At the First National Bank of Neo Creek on the thirty-third floor, a business meeting is being held, put together by Maxwell Steeleworthy. The room consists of many powerful business associates of his, some even more powerful than himself.

Let’s get this meeting started, everyone, Steeleworthy says with excitement in his voice.

All the eyes in the room shift to Steeleworthy who is standing at the head of the long marble table. At that moment, his secretary knocks as she opens the door.

I’m sorry, Mr. Steeleworthy, you just got a call. And they said to tell you your package has been delivered on time, she says.

Steeleworthy smiles at his secretary as he claps his hands together. Thank you very much, Michelle, and keep up the good work.

You’re welcome, Mr. Steeleworthy, she says, surprised, as she closes the door gently.

Steeleworthy looks at all of the individuals and begins his presentation, saying, Ladies and gentlemen, I stand before you today with the ambition to set Steeleworthy Industries in a position that will ultimately change the way we live for the better.

Various people look at one another and smile while some look at Steeleworthy with skepticism and doubt.

For the past few months, I’ve had my architects drawing up a blueprint for what people can consider to be the building of tomorrow, Maxwell continues.

Steeleworthy pulls out a remote control and points it at a blank wall; it opens up, and a screen is there displaying a rough three-dimensional model of a large building with many levels. It also shows a tower in the center of the complex that extends up through the roof of the building.

"Everyone, I present to you what I call the Gate," Maxwell says proudly.

The people in the room look at the model in amazement, even those who doubt begin to marvel at the complex.

One of the women smiles as she looks over at Steeleworthy and says, I believe you’ve done it again, Maxwell, but how exactly is this building going to revolutionize the way we live?

Smiling and already prepared for that question, Steeleworthy walks around, making eye contact with everyone who sits at the table.

I’m glad you asked that, Ms. Troy. I plan on this building being the new way we draw our energy in this city and, soon, the entire planet. As you can see, I have so much faith in this project that I’ve already begun its construction on the lot that I own right next door. If you all agree with my idea, that building is where all of this will be taking place.

Everyone starts to whisper and look at one another.

Steeleworthy points to the tower in the center of the complex that extends through the roof and says, This building, or tower if you will, isn’t really the main generator. It will have a machine within it on the highest floor called a wave converter.

An older man inquires, What is the significance of that machine? What does it do exactly?

Steeleworthy continues, What it does is it takes the energy from some dying stars and planets in space and converts it into a specific kind of light energy, making it the new way for how we get our energy on our planet. Considering the galaxy is vast, we virtually have an unlimited source of power, giving way for new inventions that could take us into a new place of human evolution.

The people at the table begin to smile and nod at his explanation, but one white-haired older man sits there unaffected by Steeleworthy’s performance.

I’ve gathered you all here today to ask that you help fund this idea. I need the help of this bank and all of you to make this happen. I guarantee what you put in will be made back ten to one hundred times over, Maxwell says confidently.

The white-haired man begins to speak in a skeptical tone, saying, Tell me, Maxwell, have you considered how this new type of energy would affect the people on Earth, not to mention our atmosphere?

Almost noticeably, Steeleworthy glares at the wise old man with an evil eye, then washes it over with a laugh. I assure you and everyone else here, Douglas, that this project is in the process of being government approved. All that’s left is for it to be funded, he says.

Douglas says, That’s Mr. Collis, and you still didn’t answer my question. I didn’t ask whether it was government approved or not. I asked, Did you consider how this new type of energy would affect the life on this planet?

Steeleworthy stands there at the head of the table becoming obviously a little irritated.

"Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Collis. But why would I do this if it would be harmful to the people in this city as well as on Earth? This, what you call ‘new type of energy,’ is nothing new to the scientists of this planet. It’s all been tested before in the past," he explains.

Douglas stands up from his seat and begins to slide his papers in his black leather briefcase and begins to speak in a stern, unwavering tone.

Well, Maxwell, call me set in my ways. But I like going about life the old-fashioned way. So I couldn’t in good conscience help fund something that I believe, despite your so-called tests, will be harmful in the long run, Douglas says.

Standing there in a business pose with his fists clenched tightly behind his back, Maxwell Steeleworthy, already not a patient man along with having a bad temper, tries to hold in his anger as he speaks in a noticeably controlled tone, "Well then, I guess this meeting is adjourned seeing as our beloved CEO has spoken. Thank you, everyone, for your time. And feel free to call me about any more questions on this project."

All of the people begin to walk out of the room; some stop to talk to one another while one of Douglas Collis’s associates speaks to him in a hushed tone, saying, Forgive me for asking, Mr. Collis, but don’t you think that being a part of something like this would be very profitable to this bank as well as us individually?

Responding in a hushed yet firm tone, Douglas speaks his point of view, saying, You have a lot to learn, my boy. Everything isn’t about money. Maxwell Steeleworthy is a snake, and I can feel that whatever he’s trying to do isn’t solely about a new source of energy for the world. That’s just a cover if you ask me. I’ll help him fund his cause over my dead body.

Overhearing the conversation, Maxwell says with eyes full of greed and hatred, That can be arranged, Mr. Collis, that can be arranged.

The sun still shines brightly in the sky over Rising Sun High School as the teens prepare to go home for the afternoon. Krystal stands under the skywalk awaiting her two friends while she watches all of the other students of the school walk by, delighted that the day is over. After waiting for a few more minutes, Krystal spots Psalmulus and Zenken walking out of the school.

Running over to them impatiently, Krystal says, You two were in a fight today?

Psalmulus looks at her, sort of holding his neck, and says, Jeez, I bet the whole blasted school knows already!

Word travels fast within these walls. I think the school has hidden cameras in each of the student’s lockers, Zenken adds as