Record of Val-Kyrie: Rov

By Giovanni Colón-Franceschi

Two neighboring nations, the Kingdom of Velecia and the Republic of Debye, have been in feud for over a century, fighting for the Property Trade Route through the natural land bridge in Volgo-Don. Whoever controls the Property Trade Route controls all taxation rights. Unfortunately, the battles have left Volgo-Don in ruins.
Civility needed to be restored, and in doing so, an agency needed to be created. Order and law would come into place with the help of the peacekeeper Agents of FISTT (Final Investigation, Survival, and Termination Tactics). It was their sole duty to contain the war from spreading past Volgo-Don. Yet, in the midst of the conflict, FISTT must also investigate the prophecy of the Anti-Goddess. They must stop the mass-murdering sociopath that was known only as the Val-Kyrie.
This is where the Record of Val-Kyrie begins--

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 24, 2008
• ISBN: 9781462839230

Giovanni Colón-Franceschi

Angelina Colon-Franceschi, a native of Del Rio, TX, enlisted in the U.S. Navy in 2008. This Navy sailor has witnessed firsthand how much devotion it takes to be a deployed military woman away from her family, and how much families are affected back home. She was compelled to acknowledge women’s contributions, pride, dedication, and courage needed to be deployed in our country’s greatest time of need. As a remarkable artist, she alternates her acrylic painting and pastel style of work to bring out the passion and loyalty she has for the Navy. Angelina is currently seeking her Bachelors in Accounting in order to be commissioned as a U.S. Navy officer. U.S. Air Force veteran Giovanni Colon-Franceschi, author of Record of Val-kyrie, assisted his wife to help bring awareness to the difficulties female sailors in the U.S. Navy face when deploying away from their homes and families. Giovanni, a Social Psychologist, is currently finishing his Masters in Professional Counseling in order to become a licensed mental health professional that will provide psychotherapy in the United States.

Book preview

Record of Val-Kyrie

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Giovanni Colón-Franceschi

Copyright © 2008 by Giovanni Colón-Franceschi.

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

Acknowledgement

Prologue

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

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Epilogue

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my newborn son, Kal-EL Colón-Franceschi. If it was not for my son, I would surely be lost. From the moment I first saw you I knew you would change my life. Most men cry when they see their child, some jump around in joy, but your dad’s first words, when I saw you, were Ew, he looks like an alien! Don’t let that bug you; you’re still my little Superman. Luckily, thanks to the Gods, you changed and look like a beautiful baby. Your dirty-blond hair and blue eyes have brought in so much attention and given daddy enough attention from the ladies. Thanks!

The first day your little hands wrapped around my finger, I realized that this novel needed to be finished. You’ll never remember this but your old-man would hold you on his lap, your wobbly head constantly shifting around, while I wrote novel. You nearly broke my heart when I saw your bottom lip puff out and you made a sad face when I would stop reading to you from my book.

I will always be by your side till the ends of time and you will carry me inside your spirit long after I’m gone from the plains of this reality. Daddy loves you, never forget this. You are the light for the people of this world. That’s why I have sent them you. Your imagination and brilliance will dwarf my own and you will change history. I feel this in my bones. Like your name refers, you are the Voice of God, you are the Son of Tomorrow, and you are my little Superman. This is novel is for you:

Kal-EL

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

THERE’S NO WAY I can thank all the people that have been by my side when writing this novel. Let me address the women that were around during the duration of my late-night writings. To the women who stuck around, thanks. To those that left, when this novel becomes a bestseller and I’m rolling in the millions, I’m going to clown you all. Still, I have to give many thanks to the first person that dealt with all my issues. The passing of our unborn child was the inspiration for the original concept of this book. To my girlfriend: thanks for putting up with my shit. No more smartass comments from you anymore or I’ll just tell you to Shut yo lips! Thanks also to my family, my best-friend and most importantly God. Thanks to all the writers and artists from the major comic book corporations, because you all laid the grounds for all my ideas.

PROLOGUE

Record of Val-Kyrie

ATHERA, A PLANET full of mystical beauty and unimaginable wonders, a world of pure ecstasy. Life blossomed and prevailed from the Guild of the planets core, the very life-force of the globe. Many ages ago, after the four beautiful moons, Sithe, Euxo, Ribia, and Fjia, had finally formed… a woman was created, born from the planets Guild.

Something miraculous was occurring within the center of the eternal field of Guild Crystals. It was a section of the planet where the essence of Guild Crystals was the most potent and purest. They protruded from the planets core, reaching high into the sky. These crystals have been illuminating for quite sometime now, waiting to release what’s been growing inside. With a marvelous explosion, the world was plunged into a cloud of power for all time. Within the crater of the detonation, a coffee hued woman finally emerged, walking out onto the grounds fertile soil. She was naked as a newborn child with long black hair flowing wildly as the wind ran through it.

Fragmented crystals were strewn against the smoldering rubble near her. Small cuts and contusion marred her immaculate complexion. Sweat sparkled on her flawless face. With a sway of her pristine hand, the imperfection that had occurred to her supple skin had vanished, healing within seconds. This woman was able to bear the planets energy within her, enabling her to mold this Guild for her own benefits. A new sensation pressed against her newly acquired flesh. Goosebumps formed along her from the cold torrential rain that loomed high above. With a single glance and thought, the clouds seemed to dissipate, giving way for the suns bright warmth.

Unclothed and bare-naked was problematic for the woman. Only a single thought was what was needed to correct this. Manifesting matter through nothingness seemed to break the laws of physics. A shimmering bronze tiara formed along the scalp of her head. A plethora of shiny materials attached itself to her limbs. A silken white sheet draped her bareness, wrapping around one leg as it made its course around her noticeable features. Esoteric occult energy had intricately marked her sides with ceremonial black markings that streaked from her shoulders down to her toes.

Thousands, if not millions of years have passed, and the world has flourished since she began creating life in her image. She was the first of her kind and soon became Mother to all Atherian life. Her people loved and prayed to her, for she was all knowing and all powerful. She was dubbed the Goddess Athera by her children and praised for her coming. Athera had crossed the world many times over, teaching her word so that one day, when her children were ready, they would reunite with her.

The Goddess taught her offspring’s many lessons about life, but the greatest lesson she emphasized was that of the Atherian Sins. Avoid the sins of life, the sins that will inevitably banish one to the netherworld. For in this netherworld, one would become a formless entity of pure evil, known only as the Ing. From this . . . there was no return.

Goddess Athera came to a wise and benevolent conclusion that would benefit her children. She would pass on the ability to manipulate Guild onto her offspring’s. She taught them how to tap into the very fabric of their Guild, how to harness it for its purity. Unlike her, Atherians were only allowed to posses one form of Guild so that they would never become overwhelmed with so much power. With this, she had separated the Guild into six different Markers:

~Celestial~

~Chaos~

After many millenniums, the time came to reunite with the planet. Once she felt her purpose was complete, she returned to her birth spot, and prepared to return her body, mind and soul to the planet itself. Hopefully, her children would cherish the gift that she left behind. Hopefully, they would help one another, and use their gift to benefit mankind in their harmonious life.

Atherians had built a holy temple in honor of their Goddess Athera. The Shrine of Athera was built atop her birth spot, a sight of grandeur. Classical Atherian architecture rose from the western hemisphere. An eccentric stone acropolis looked down on the carefully idyllic organized subdivisions of graceful sanctuaries, palaces, and arbors. Towering Ionic columns surrounded tranquil gardens within the marble propylaeum before the portico.

The cathedral chamber and other public buildings enclosed a large open square known as the agora. Magnificent stone frieze graced the sides of ivory fountains. Coliseums and outdoor theaters celebrated both the artistic gifts of the Guild. A somber necropolis, located on the outer fringes, housed hooded acolytes that chanted daily for the passing of loyal followers to the faith of the Goddess.

Upon her return, the Goddess Athera was curious to where her children would go in the future; she used the last part of her Guild to bend the streams of time and space at her own will. She peered into the future of her offspring’s. The sight was of total terror!

The Goddess Athera saw her children’s demise, she saw her children’s executioner. She was saddened by all the death that had commenced after her departure, saddened by how far her children fell away from her teachings. It was too late; she had to leave her planet, she had to leave her children to fend for their own. As the Goddess Athera’s priestesses ritually chanted their farewell, she had ultimately felt compelled to leave them one last gift for their devotion. It was a warning. Thus she prophesized:

~ In the mist of a terrible war, a Val-Kyrie will appear, one that would blend in with my many children.

It shall bring only pain, suffering and death to Atherians with the help of a Cauldron of Seven.

Yet the death of this Val-Kyrie by mans hand will bring the destruction

Of the universe ~

Since that faithful day, peace and tranquility had been kept on Athera, but not for long. Many ages would pace on and many of the Goddess’ teachings would be lost. Very few would continue to practice her tradition and for this reason alone her children eventually lost their way. Eventually, crime, hate, sinning and even war had prevailed.

CHAPTER 1

GODS CAN BECOME devils far too quickly. History has shown this. Yet, within the outskirts of the universe, a humble and peaceful Goddess would stray far away from that appellation. In the vast darkness of space, this Goddess would watch over a small planet. Thick white clouds cloaked the lush, verdant oasis within the planets surface. It was a fertile, fructiferous planet that housed millions. The planet circled its radiant young star, as does its four moons circle the planet.

In the Eastern part of the planet Athera, deep within the hidden snowy Luerac Mountains, one would find a young man endlessly traversing through the snow-covered plains. His chestnut colored hair seemed to draw in attention from the local wildlife, instinctively knowing that this man was an outsider. Though slender in figure, he was what some would call well-defined, a well-toned man with a body of a professional swimmer. There was no mistaking this man for a mere undeveloped adult. His jaw was stern, rough, unshaved, but his eyes were soft, passionate, completely opposite of his outer image.

There was no need to try and imagine this mans body type, it was rather obvious. He walked around topless, proud of his perfectly sculpted frame. All that he needed was a yellow raggedy scarf that was wrapped tightly around his neck. His skin was hairless, tanned to a perfect bronze hue. Was he a tribesman? He must be. Why would one be covered in so many decorative tattoos if you weren’t a tribesman? One would think so, but no, you would sadly be mistaken.

Cold steel pressed against his back, it was his precious toy. A freakishly large serrated harpoon hung over his shoulder as if it was his trophy. This man spat snowflakes from his mouth. It was unnerving; obviously it was cold, so why would he walk around topless? Still, ambling unconcernedly pushed forward, kicking up what one would consider the frozen equivalent to dust.

An endless amount of stairs passed by him, still continuing his advancement up on this cold artificial stone steps. It was a rough pass that crossed between trees and flowers that seems somewhat unnatural. His eyes gazed eastwardly towards the distant mountains as his body gathered speed and momentum to leap over several steps.

Within the distance, he could clearly see the largest mountain on Athera. It has been measured at a little over 25,000 ft. A beauty called Thro-defa Mon Athera, in the ancient language of Atherians, which translated to Tower of Mother Goddess Athera. Only a select few have ever climbed to the top, but there have been rumors that some people have actually made it a home. What a foolish person would do such a thing in that hazardous environment.

This young man was glad that he wasn’t climbing the mountain, but these stairs are equally as challenging. Destination for him was not the peak of the mountain, but a facility that was within mere grasp.

You would think they would’ve had an easier way to get up to this place… being SO advanced and all. They should be like our FISTT instillation. Whatever . . . FUCK! the man whispered with a grim face.

Such thoughts were all that he had to help pass the time. His nose sniffled, not because of his running reddish nose, but because he smelt something burning. At the top of the stone stairs, something was amiss. Smoke was soaring high into the skyline.

Oh no, by the Goddess… he said under his breath.

He ran as if it was the end of the world, almost tripping to reach the top. Snow came in like ocean waves, cold wind finding its way through the minimal amount of clothing that he had on, stinging him like insects. Without thinking, he cast a glance over the last step, seeing the remnants of the old FISTT instillation. His face showed signs of dismay, smirched by the sight of grime and rust, burned bricks and logs, and smoldering trees. What seemed to be thousands of grave mounds across ash filled grass left his legs without feeling. He fell down on the hard freezing ground; it was uncomfortable and unyielding as the cold itself.

In the middle, stood a teen shoveling the last pile dirt upon a grave, wiping his hands clean against his shorts. Snow gave way to melted ice as the tattooed traveler fearlessly drew closer to the teen, cautiously cradling his weapon in one hand JUST in case. As he got closer he was able to make out what the boy looked like. Sinuous infinity flames gracefully reached up his short navy-blue pants. The light flame designed signified two powerful symbols: the flame and infinity. Fire was always eternal in life and infinity meant that there was no beginning, no end.

Strangely the boy’s hair was that of an old man, a pale ghostly gray color. Skin had a base tan, nowhere near as bronzed as the tattooed traveler, but good enough. The teen was shorter in height, probably around five foot nine. The teen had an eccentric glow about him that left the traveler staring, noticing his skin etched with nicks and cuts that have left scar tissue behind in its wake. The young teen’s hands were covered in third degree burns, a rather appalling sight.

What’s the meaning of this? What happened here? Answer me… ANSWER! the man’s tone was spiced with fury and agitation.

They’re all dead… all the Agents of FISTT, they’re dead… murdered. his expression was unchanging.

Exhausted, the teen dropped to his already dirt covered knees with his head hung low, silent as the snow that he was on.

I should’ve been here. None of this would’ve ever happened if I was still here. I shouldn’t have left FISTT, I could’ve been here to at least protect them. the boy whispered with a look of confusion and sadness.

Wait! You’re Dyne . . . Dyne Fairchild, I heard of you… you’re the only one to have ever left FISTT before completion to Field Agent! You’ve been gone for two months now.

And?

What happened here?

What do you care?

I care.

Who are you… ? the teen asked while his aqua-green eyes watered up.

The names Graff, I’m a FISTT Recon Agent from your sister instillation in the Vale of Katri Desert. I was dispatched on a field mission to find out what happened to this instillation. We lost contact with ya’ll about a week ago, total communication failure. I need to find the Director of –  Graff said before he’s cut off.

Director Dante is behind you and his other half is over there. Dyne sniggered improperly; pointing off to the right.

His eyes followed Dyne’s finger, he could have grimaced when he saw what Dyne was referring to. A grand total of five seconds elapsed before he realized what he truly was looking at. The director of FISTT was ripped in two. His decrepit bodies lying on the floor like an old dusty rag-doll.

WHAT HAPPENED HERE?

I don’t know.

What you mean you don’t know?

I don’t remember anything.

Don’t remember? Well what the fuck are you doing back here at FISTT if you dropped out?

I live around here.

Oh but you don’t know what happened around here?!

I already told you NO. I can’t remember what happened several days ago… I just remember seeing smoke… and I came and found everything like this.

Look, you need to come with me and explain – 

NOT until I bury the remaining people. I’ve been burying everyone all this time . . . I’m not gonna stop now. Dyne firmly stated.

Graff was silent for a brief moment, took the time to notice how serious and emboldened the teen was.

Fine, fine… Fine! Look I’ll help you, but I need to know what happened. Then we need to report back to FISTT Graff explained as he picked up a shovel near by.

Taking a deep breath, Dyne rose to his feet. A cool breeze passed by, untangling several knots in his hair. He began to remember what transpired earlier as he looked around. There were rusted metals strewed around, various grave mounds protruded from the soil, and there was a strong smell of putrid rotting bodies in the air.

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EARLIER ON IN THE WEEK

The sight of Wave Latinums, bird-like manta rays comprised of energy, was always breathtaking to the natives in this part. These creatures were a sight that had always been admired by many, but for this day, something else traveled with the wind. The unholy smell of fresh blood travels along the dancing wind. Blood attracted insects, famished creatures, and a snow covered haired boy, named Dyne.

He gazed upon the pilled bodies of his former comrades. They were all dead, men, women, and even children. Slaughtered, like animals, mutilated beyond recognition. No survivors, how can there be any?

No . . . what . . . this . . . can’t be . . . Dyne muttered as his teeth grinded against each other.

He crouched down to a victim, grabbing the charred hands of a child. He removed his hands and saw black ashes smeared across his gloves. In the distance, he could barely see a figure crawling along the floor. Franticly, he ran to aid the injured person, jumping over bodies and rubbles, powerfully and purposely plowing through the snow. His thoughts were plainly linear when he came across an older woman in her mid-forties. As he turned the woman gently over, his eyes widened. Even though her face was mutilated, Dyne recognized the fire-jeweled necklace that hanged from a soft nylon which floated along her neck.

The necklace was in a cube fashion. He remembered that other jewels would fade at night, but the fire-jewel irresistibly glowed at night. He knew the owner of unique necklace.

Sei’ UN! Master . . . what happened here? What happened to you? he rambled.

Dried up blood was blotched between her legs, she had been rapped numerous times. In fact, all the women in the installation were viciously violated; their insides were turned into mush. One teal-colored eye had been removed from her eye-socket, dangling only by its optic nerve. Several fingers had been severed and thrust down into her throat to gag on; even one finger had been plowed up her inside. Sei’ UN spat up blood, she grabbed Dyne by the back of his neck with the singed hand. He tried to cover the rotting wound that spread across her throat.

Dyne . . . Dyne . . . listen . . . evil has appeared . . . she barely spoke.

What are you talking about? Save your ener – 

THE VAL-KYRIE *cough* HAS APPEARED! she violently shook and coughed. Must . . . stop . . . the . . . please stop . . . find Byroe . . . Byroe . . . find.

Please . . . don’t die, I need you . . . Dyne whispered as if his words were for a lover.

Her eye dimmed as she took her last breath of air in her students’ hands. Dyne slowly laid her body down, shaking his head as he stood up. He’s seen so much death; there must be over a thousand bodies of students, not including staff, instructors, and so on. It was apparent what he needed and wanted to do. He took off his jacket, dropping it on the floor along with his gloves.

He stared at his hands; they were covered in third-degree burns, revolting. He had to close his eyes tight to ignore his scars. Flashes overwhelmed him. Images of a family burning alive from a time long before. Flames rose high into the sky and the screams of several people echoed over and louder in his mind. Dyne opened his eyes and shook his head. These images, they were bad memories.

PRESENT

Dusk was approaching quickly; it was not long after the two men had finished their task. Graff wiped his stiff hands on his faded yellowish pants before wiping his forehead with his torn scarf. Though it happened, the Agent was relatively unsure how burying all the corpses was remotely accomplished.

Alright, we’re done. We’ve buried everyone. Graff shrugged. We need to report to FISTT, ok? You’re coming with me now.

Don’t think so. I’m gonna find out what happened around here. Dyne said as he picked up his belongings and started to walk away.

There were several choice words and names Graff wanted to conjure up to say to Dyne, but he kept them to himself. Instead, he grabbed the back of his arm, big mistake. That slight movement made Dyne sharply turn to clasp Graff’s neck. Dyne raised his free hand and pointed it directly at the man’s face. There was silence and shock as the boy’s charred hand began to bubble up and burst into flames.

Don’t FUCK with me! I’m going to find Byroe . . . IF you want, follow me, but I will NOT be going ANYWHERE ELSE! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!

Dyne screamed as he clenched tighter around Graff’s throat, making his point crystal-clear. Eyelids were fluttering, almost closing; Graff was about to pass-out when he was released. Once again, Dyne made his departure.

You *cough* GoT *cough* to be shitting m… ME! Graff coughed as he fumbled backwards. You’re a Flammas Guild Bearer.

What about it?

Not many of you exist anymore… your powers are too erratic – 

I don’t have time for this. I have to find Byroe.

I’m comin’ then.

Whatever.

So who… Graff’s throat was still sore. Is this Byroe character?

Byroe was the Assistant Director of this instillation back in the day. My master and he were once together, but several years back they separated. He left the agency. Don’t really know exactly why, but all I know about him is that he’s running a casino in Jidia. There’s a reason why she mentioned his name. I intend to find out why. He’ll have the answers. Dyne explained.

A brief silence cradled in the air as the two finished walking down the fleet of stairs and came upon a raggedy vehicle that had several different paint jobs. It seemed that this Makina would breakdown at any minute. Doesn’t seem appealing to either the eyes or nose. Dyne shook his head in disapproval as Graff leaped into his topless vehicle.

There’s one thing I’ve still been trying to figure out. Graff shrugged his shoulders.

What?

Why me?

Why what?

Why did FISTT send me? I mean they could’ve sent ANY other Agent, but I was specifically asked by my supervisor to head the investigation. Apparently he had received notification from higher ups and I was distinctively pointed out to head up the Recon.

And your point is?

Just making conversation… DAMN!

Graff reached for a sapphire colored jagged crystal rod that protruded from the dashboard, gently twisting it counterclockwise. Apparently it was the ignition. The crystal felt like liquid, a frictionless surface. The rod seemed to have been unearthed and placed into the vehicle, rather odd for those who have never seen this before. It was rather ingenious to be able store Guild into these crystals, thus powering the Makina, the brilliance of combining both fields of Guild and Makina.

Turning his attention towards Dyne made Graff realize the teen was mesmerized by the rundown shape of the Makina.

What? I know it’s not too much to look at, but as long as it gets us where we need to be, then what’s there to complain about. Shit, do you have something better? Graff paused. Yeah, thought so.

Can you put the top up at least?

What? That takes away from the feel of the ride, this is a classic!

Around here, it gets down to 30 degrees. Dyne made a point.

Actually, the top is broke, sorry.

They drove off onto the bumpy road. Something was rattling; it was all wrong, or at least not right. It was getting on Dyne’s last nerves. Where was that noise coming from? He turned slightly, shifting his gaze towards a harpoon rumbling around in the backseat, cutting the faux leather apart.

We have about a six hour drive. We should get there around midnight. After you receive your information, we WILL contact command. Understand? Graff said.

First of all, I take orders from no one. Second of all, I don’t work for FISTT anymore, I’m not an Agent. And third most, you’re coming with me. So if you wish to report back; that’s on you. the teen remarked.

Waaaa. NOW I remember you! You’re the kid who destroyed the east-wing with your . . . powers. They banded you from using so much of your Guild. I remember people got hurt and someone almost died… you – 

Stop talking. Just drive!

It’s a long drive without talking… Graff noticed Dyne gazing at the harpoon. Um, I noticed you were checking out the Ragna-Rok . . . it’s the latest in Ground Combat Technology, created by the brilliant scientist that FISTT contracted. Dr. Wrythe.

And? the teen threw his hood over his head, ready to take a nap.

Well, because I was somewhat of a fisherman before joining FISTT, Dr. Wrythe felt that this weapon would suit me the best. Tiny microscopic serrated teeth’s have been formed into the blades design. I’m able to cut and rip an enemy at the same time.

Dr. Wrythe.

Cant believe they never caught his murderer. He was a genius, the only one of such a high stature. Being able to combine Guild and modern Makina technology into valuable –  Graff was once again cut off by the ill-mannered teen.

WHY are you giving me a history lesson? I DID work at FISTT once before… I KNOW who he is. My question for you is . . . why has FISTT incorporated weaponry with Field Agents? You obviously don’t bare any Guild abilities. Why’ve you been subjected to carry a weapon? One that is ridiculously large… this is what the agency has come down to? he remarked with a smart-ass attitude.

WHOA! Who ever said I DIDN’T… have Guild –  Graff screamed with an annoyance in his voice before ONCE again being cut off by the teen.

Because Guild Bearers can sense Guild in others . . . YOU don’t give off one, Agent Graff. You should already know this. the teen mentioned as he leaned back in the seat.

WELL, I’M UNIQUE DAMMIT!

Graff’s words were ignored by Dyne. The snow white-haired teen had gone into a deep slumber.

OH COME ON! NO ONE FALLS ASLEEP THAT FAST!!

Hours have passed since the departure from the mountainous region where FISTT was located. Traveling through the Snowpass region and into the luxurious Willowing Plains was a long and daunting task. Within eyes view sat Jidia, the city that seemed to have been created entirely for entertainment and sinful pleasures. Every corner that passed by seemed to harbor a bar or some form of entertainment for the demanding masses who wished to lose themselves in a night of ecstasy.

Graff stared out the fractured window, watching the beautiful women parade around the streets. Short miniskirts barely covered their bodies. They proudly wore these revealing outfits regardless of how low the temperature was. Dyne, still with his hood over his head, stared out the corner of his eyes to see the Atherians that strutted about carelessly.

These people care not of the war that pursues nearby or the people that died at FISTT. They only want to party. They know nothing about serving a cause that gives them the freedom to do what they want. These people will never know what it means to stop injustice. the teen implied while passing a large fountain decorated with elegant lights beaming over a group of Atherians drinking away.

You’re awake! Cool, yeah this one-sided conversation was getting rather OLD!

They make me sick.

Dyne… I understand how you feel, but we’re keepers of the peace. Protecting them from the war is what we’re meant to do. One day they’ll all have to protect themselves, and they’ll realize how important the authorities are and –  like clockwork, Graff was cut off once more.

We’re here! That’s the casino, Plague! Find a place to park.

You know . . . Graff rolled his eyes before commenting. There’s a thing as COMMON decency! SHIT!

Cry me a river. Just park.

Dude, do you see the line at this place? It looks like it goes around the damn corner.

Don’t worry ’bout the line, looks like something’s going down at the front door.

There was a commotion at the entrance of the casino that had brought a rowdy crowd. Three rather well-built men stood at the entrance of the casino completely enraged. They stared up at the local bouncer of the establishment, a stunning woman around her late twenties. She had beautiful searing crystal blue eyes that were half covered by her short blonde hair. She probably weighed around 120 pounds and no bigger than five feet nine inches, she should’ve been a model rather than a bouncer. Though slender and extremely appealing to the eye, she had an inner hardness that only other REAL fighters could sense. The vixen stood upright in front of these men with no intimidation.

I said you mother fuckers robbed us. the stockiest man of the three blurted.

That’s not my problem. the woman fixed her pinkish tie.

The fuck it is. he grabbed her studded neck-choker.

I wouldn’t do – 

Shut the fuck up! he slammed her head against the billboard nearby. I never understood why this place only got’s one damn bouncer.

This is your last warning. she would’ve bared her fangs if she was an animal.

Give us the money back or –  a knife caressed her throat. I’ll take something from you.

Sweat beaded the onlooker’s scalps. Most people, when confronted with a threat, tend to just walk away to avoid a fight. This time was no different. The frantic crowd wanted to intervene, but were too afraid. The man cradled the knife along the woman’s chest. His free hand ran along her tightly fitted white blouse, down her defined stomach, then along her black leather skirt. Skin became exposed as the skirt was lifted, revealing the pink thong underneath. Fingers pushed aside her underwear, allowing entrance into her. His tongue glided along her face.

The crowd hollered, fists were clenched tightly, but no one did anything. At least not with the big-mans friends giving him cover. The woman didn’t budge, even as the man’s finger came out of her and slid up her rear hole. I like that tight little booty-hole, the violator thought. Her face contorted, it was clear that she was uncomfortable. Instinctively, Graff’s macho ego kicked into overdrive, he was going to do something about this.

As the broad-shouldered man’s gaze left her sight, he felt the error of his mistake. Gravity took a toll on him; he tumbled down the marble steps. Screams left his mouth as he realized his knee had been kicked inward, bending into the opposite direction. Sprinting forward, his comrades were ready to take out their aggression on the woman. Throwing her elbow into the face of the shortest man caused his nose to break instantly. A furious haymaker across the jaw dropped him quick. A foot drove into his stomach, sending him sliding several feet away.

One man left, and she egged him on. After a second of hesitation, the man puffed out his chest ready to deliver a flurry of jabs. There was a reason why the casino only needed one bouncer, and that’s because she’s the best. A downward elbow strike to the top of his head left him dazed. The blood from the man’s head trickled down his face just before he passed out.

It was over, the fight lasted less than a minute. As she turned around to head back inside, Graff had noticed that the broken-nosed man had already regained his composure. Brandishing a large knife, he dashed directly towards the woman’s back. Rushing to her aid, Graff yelled a single warning that caused her to spin around. Leaping in the air, she drove her knee into the man’s chest. A snap echoed as the man’s sternum fractured, he was completely knocked unconscious.

Approaching the woman was not wise for anyone at this point, especially with all the hype that just occurred. Graff ignored this commonsense notion. As his hand rose to stop her, the youthful blonde spun around, hand cocked back. The sight of a stranger with a large serrated blade strapped to his back was not the friendliest sight around Jidia.

Listen up everyone! she addressed the crowd. None of ya’ll are getting in tonight. Get the fuck out of here.

WHAT! the crowd complained.

You actually think I’m gonna let ya’ll into the casino after you all just stood there. Ha, get the fuck outta here. And take these filths with you, kay.

Yo, what’s your name? Graff asked.

You deaf? she gave him an ill look.

No. Graff replied. Why’d you let that guy touch you like that? You obviously can handle – 

You want some too?

No… check it; I’m Agent Graff of FISTT. The gloomy looking guy next to me is Dyne. We’re here on official business to speak with a man by the name of Byroe – 

You’re not getting in, get out of here.

What was your name again? Dyne asked.

First of all, I didn’t give you a name. Secondly, no one, I mean NO ONE meets the boss without an appointment. the woman remarked.

WAIT… I sort of helped you back there by telling you about the man on your six! Graff proclaimed.

I never asked for your help. I was perfectly capable of fending for myself. she replied.

Dyne laid his hand on Graff’s shoulder and stepped forward to speak to the blonde.

Listen, Byroe was the Assistant Director of FISTT a while back. FISTT has been laid to ruin… everyone is dead. Men, woman, younglings, all have been murdered. The woman that died in my arms mentioned his name. We need to find out what happened to my home. He might be able to help. Please, we must speak with him.

FISTT? He never said he worked at – 

He did . . . please, the woman that died in my arms… they were once an item, that’s why I’m here. He has the right to at least know what happened.

No conversation passed between the men as they waited for her to soak up their request. They were confident in their purpose, confident that they expressed themselves, but they were unsure of the outcome. After a brief pause, she caved in and agreed to take them to meet Byroe. Vice pushed the fifteen foot high doors open to reveal the inside of the casino Plague. They finally caught her name as they passed the middle-aged greeter that stood by the coiling emerald water fountain. Her name was Vice.

Bright neon green and blue decorations were wrapped around large pillars just over the bars and gambling tables. The sight of endless people drinking, dancing, and gambling the night away was breathtaking. Vice escorted the men to the center of the building where a fleet of translucent stairs led to the second floor which was mainly comprised of glass. An office could clearly be seen through the bottom, it was completely retro. Impressed by this site, Graff was stopped before taking another step up.

Graff is it? Vice spoke. You stay down here, Dyne shall meet Byroe.

Why?

Two reasons. ’Cause it only takes one person to ask a question and ’cause I don’t like you.

Are you serious?

Hold on, let me preannounce you.

As she walked up the stairs, Graff couldn’t help but stare at her perfectly rounded ass as she entered the office. Approaching the seated seven foot tall man left Graff’s mouth wide open. He’d never seen a person that tall before. A whisper went into the tall-man’s ears. A nod of approval came and she was instructed to bring them forth. Walking back down the stairs, Vice’s eyes momentarily left Graff’s sight, allowing him ample opportunity to stare at her perky breast.

Dyne, please proceed forward and speak with Byroe, Graff go relax at the bar.

Words seemed to trail off in Graff’s mind; he was too fixated on the man upstairs.

That’s a HUGE ass dude. That’s Byroe? his jaw was left open.

Rolling her eyes, she tugged on Graff, leading him towards the bar. Rounding the corner, they faded into the crowd, leaving Dyne to make his own way up towards the office. It was rare to find an empty seat in this casino, but with Vice by Graff’s side, it was only a matter of WHICH seat he wanted. Who would dare argue with this bombshell?

Whirling around, Graff stopped to observe a cute waitress serving food and drinks to a group sitting at a nearby table. Her high-heels were designed with silk brocade along with a silver chinchilla and velvet ribbons. She placed the last florescent drinks on the table, giving the oldest gentlemen a friendly smile, which he interpreted as much more. She was startled, almost dropping her tray the instant Graff’s hand slid down her back.

HEY suga, wanna keep me company? a cackling laugh came out.

He pulled her close with such hilarity, he felt her rigid body soften and eventually melt in his arms. His hands slowly moved up the curve of her back until he brushed his fingers against her slender neck. She was falling for it all, until Vice gave her a smug look. The waitress had to be professional, so she smiled and looked deep into his eyes.

You need better pickup line… plus you seem to be OVERCOMPENSATING for something with that butter-knife on your back.

The waitress pointed to the Ragna-Rok that cradled along his spine. Walking away only left him dumbfounded. He wasn’t use to not being fawned over, well at least from where he’s from.

Upstairs, Dyne approached his destination; the door glowed to life, responding to his presence. The door opened, admitting one into the large glass office. It was intriguing how the room lacked the sound of music from beneath. It was soundproof. An heirloom-quality musical egg rested against the edge of the fine table. When opened, the egg revealed a hand-dyed pewter showpiece. The egg was crafted of glossy porcelain, decorated with 22K gold accents and dozens of jewels and crystals. The base of the egg housed metal blossom petals that bloomed outwards in solid sterling silver with borders that were richly plated in pure gold.

With only a shaggy white beard and Mohawk to show, the rather large dark-skinned giant seemed to be rather well looking for a man in his fifties. The man signed another sheet of paperwork as the teen approached, but before Dyne could even introduce himself, the dark-man spoke.

The Child of Fire.

Excuse me? he responded resignedly.

Dyne Fairchild.

How – 

I’m truly sorry for what happened to FISTT. Its demise wasn’t ever expected. You’re here to find out if I can help with any information, right? Byroe said.

No eye contact was ever made. Without thinking, Dyne looked around the room and began wondering why anyone would have a room completely made of glass against the back of the building.

I can see everything that happens here. I have an eye on it all. the capsule pen, with die-cast metal inside, was tapped against the table. Now your wondering how I knew what you were thinking.

Yeah.

Telepathy is a nifty Guild of mine. It comes in handy when running a casino. You don’t know how many people try to cheat. Byroe leaned back in his fine-leather chair.

Dyne swallowed hard and gathered himself. He couldn’t stammer when speaking to this man, he needed to sound confident as he fired away with questions.

No disrespect sir. But I need answers quick. My master… master Sei’ UN mentioned your name before she died. I came here hoping you would know who could’ve destroyed a powerful agency like FISTT? Who can kill so many Agents? All of them! That’s impossible . . . they’re all highly skilled combatants. Yet, they were all wiped out like they were nothing… did FISTT have any – 

ENEMIES?! Boy… you tend to forget who you actually work for. In the dreaded end, you and the rest of the FISTT Agents are killers, regardless of how you sugar-coat it. Byroe declared. You exterminate threats, regardless of sides. You have an abundance of enemies. As for WHO can take down FISTT, I have no idea. It would take an army of an immense size and strength to do so.

The sound of this caused Dyne to shift his gaze away. Through the glass floor, he noticed Vice standing in the corner, staring at him through the corner of her eyes. Her glare suggested wonder, not confusion. Distraction came to her when an abrupt commotion commenced at the other end of the casino. There was no choice but to depart to mediate anything that would ensue in the establishment, but she would rather stay close by to keep her keen eye on the teen.

Dyne thought he could hear his own heartbeat; it was that quiet in the room. He remembered the words of his dying mentor. There was a noticeable quaver in his voice when he blurted out what he recalled.

Master Sei’ UN mentioned something before she passed on. Something about a Val-Kyrie, the Val-Kyrie has appeared… I believe that’s what it was.

Byroe’s fingers grip the chair tightly, he licked his lips, and he needed a drink to quench his thirst. A half empty bottle of liquor slammed against the table, he began to sweat profusely from his forehead as he hesitantly asked.

Wha… wha . . . what did you JUST say? he took a drink to the head.

Instead of replying, Dyne could only stare, his expression suggested one thing: Byroe clearly knows about the query he seeks. Dyne met the man’s gaze without a single flinch; there was only an inoffensive gesture from Byroe.

It can’t be… he was locked away forever… it cannot be.

The leather chair creaked as Byroe stood up, walking towards the window that’s faced outside the building. It was the only window that gave a view of the street across the way. He shrugged slightly, pondering for just a moment, sweating heavily as the seconds ticked away.

What must HE be thinking now? What could be rushing through his mind? He must’ve gone mad from being locked away that long. The Val-Kyrie… he could’ve done… he could’ve destroyed FISTT, he could do it!

Patience was wearing thin; Dyne’s temper was running around in circles to the breaking point. Byroe leaned against the window with his head resting on his forearm. An inappropriate grin came, but vanished immediately. His eyes caught a comet crossing the sky, high in the west. He took a deep breath before speaking.

I knew I should’ve never told Sei’ UN about him . . . I knew I could trust her with the secret… but I was wrong in thinking that she would understand why we did what we had to do. She left me soon after that… and I felt there was no need to stay at FISTT; she was the only reason I joined actually. She said she would never tell anyone as long as I stayed away from her. So I quit and she stayed at FISTT, she felt she could help others by being there for them. Not letting THAT injustice happen again. Finding and training children like you at a young age, so they never become corrupt like… the rest of us did. She didn’t deserve to die.

What the fuck is going on?

It was a terrible risk to speak to Byroe that way, but he had no choice, regardless of how unpredictable his host might be. Fist clenched and words came loudly out from Dyne, demanding to know about the Val-Kyrie, not about his relationship with his master. Another deep breath of air flowed into Byroe’s lungs, readying himself for another speech.

Dyne… what I’m about to tell you has been kept a secret from all FISTT Agents and the public.

The teen’s expression twisted slightly, this wasn’t the time to sound impatient, and so he held his ground.

Legends foretold that a chooser of the slain, called the Val-Kyrie, would appear. With the help of his followers, he would begin a bloodbath that would stretch across the globe. Over thirty years ago . . . we thought we found him… so we locked him away.

You’re telling me that ya locked up some guy and he’s back?

If it really is him, back from the past, he would’ve surely gone mad from being… being… by the Goddess Athera… thirty years! What’ve we done?

So who is he then? Dyne asked.

Damn it! This isn’t good; we should’ve never listened to Cidus.

Cidus Rosewater? Dyne mentioned confusedly.

Yes. The millionaire mongrel, his family was the one who established FISTT long ago. They’ve funded us since the beginning. When he finally inherited his family business he corrupted and manipulated the system. He knows all our dirty little secrets.

BYROE! Who is the Val-Kyrie, I must know NOW!!

The Val-Kyrie . . . his name is – 

Something outside the window made him hesitate, his eyes widened and pupils constricted. A wave of green fire came crashing into the room, disintegrating Byroe head into ash. The force of the draft sent Dyne hurling backwards. The explosion was heard all around the casino and just like any natural reaction, fear and confusion followed. Gamblers began to panic and rush towards the exit, trampling each other over in the process. Agitated and disturbed, panicking employees jolted around, each who sought a different exit. At a time like this, survival precedes cognition.

The fire began to dimmer, allowing Dyne to rush towards the hole that was just formed. In the distance of the cold dark night, he could vaguely see two figures standing within the shadows. Focusing, he was barely able pick out a couple things about the assailants feature. With a spark of green fire from the goon’s hand, Dyne was able to see a tall, slim male wearing a dark-gray leather jacket with a pair of matching colored pants. Black buckles were festively attached all around, but his dog collar completely stood out as much as the wild dark-green hair that covered his gleaming cold-dead gray eyes of his chalk-white face. It was a sadistically chilling sight.

A woman stood directly to his side with a crystal orb in hand. She was dressed in a gothic outfit, decorated with elegant purple, red and black designs. Her thick wavy bright-red hair stood out underneath her demonic headgear, but what caught Dyne’s attention was the large eye designed into the fabric of her dress. He seemed to be hypnotized for a moment, lost in the unblinking eye on her garb. The woman’s lips moved as though she was speaking, but the teen could not hear what she said. A wall of mist covered them both while she rubbed her hands across the floating orb; the two evil figures vanished without a trace.

As his stomach settled back, Vice came crashing through the door, left in disbelief at the destruction within the office. She soon came to realize that Byroe laid decapitated across the littered floor. Quick to pass judgments, she believed that Dyne was responsible for Byroe’s death.

A vertical vein seemed to throb at the center of her forehead. Anger swelled, her teeth began to grind as she clenched her fist. Dyne, still left speechless, slowly turned his head as he realized that something was bringing in a strong gust of wind from the outside and into the office, as though it was being wielded inwards.

Guild… I sense a Guild Bearer… wait a minute!

A twitch drew his attention; he turned around to witness Vice standing behind him half bent over. Wind began to swirl around her faster and faster. A loud scream left her, it created a huge gust of wind; the draft hurled Dyne’s body through the glass wall and into the casino, smashing him into the liquor bottles and empty glasses that were displayed at the bar.

Realizing what had just occurred, Graff rushed to Dyne’s aid, wending through the crowd, occasionally pausing to push another person out of his way. Finally he arrived, moving debris off Dyne’s body, cutting his own finger with the shards of broken glass.

DYNE! Are you okay? What the Ing happened? What’s going on? Graff asked as he helped the teen to his feet.

Dyne coughed up some blood; he shivered a bit, watching the wind within the casino intensify. It wasn’t noticeable at first, but both men had to take a second glance. They noticed Vice floating