onizel

"I realise what I'm asking you to do is... Messy, brother," Malcolm said, looking out the window of the highrise apartment he'd recently acquired. His stylishly messy hair contrasted against his expensive, well-tailored silk shirt, black with a twisting vine pattern embroidered into it.

"You want me to kill a man?" Zachary asked. He was aware that his voice carried an unusual note of uncertainty. He'd sworn to make Mal's vision a reality. An end to the gang wars that had taken his family. But asking him to kill someone again... Zachary wasn't sure he could do that. But somewhere in the back of his mind, something was urging him to carry out the request.

"It's not like I'm asking you to kill a priest," Malcolm said, fiddling with a button on his cuff. He still wasn't used to the clothes he wore. It was a far cry from the raggish t-shirt he'd been wearing less than a week ago. Zachary wasn't privvy to where the sudden jump from rags to riches had been funded, but he didn't really care. He'd been offered some of the money, but he'd knocked it back. He had enough to get by. "It's a corrupt pollie. He's being paid off by Nirvana."

Zach made a small sound of irritation as he opened Mal's fridge. "Mind if I have one?" he asked as he pulled out a can of beer. With some satisfaction, Zach noticed that Mal's taste in alcohol hadn't jumped up with his taste in clothes. He didn't wait for an answer before he pulled on the ring, letting the carbon dioxide hiss into the conditioned air of the flash apartment.
"Just don't get legless, you piss-head," Malcolm said sarcastically. His mouth twisted into a wry half-smile that didn't reach his eyes. "If you took some of the money I keep offering you, you could drink the expensive stuff, man."

Zachary walked over to the window overlooking a busy street, taking a long swig of the cheap beer as he stared at the ants down below, running between the buildings as they went about making the city the flagship of the Kingdom. "I don't..." he began, not sure if he was about to lie to his sworn brother or not. "I don't really want another bloodstain on my hands, Mal."

Behind Zach's back, the smile flid fom Malcolm's face. "We've been blessed, brother. Since that night, we've been blessed with these powers. " Zach turned around, an eyebrow raised in surprise. "Don't think I hadn't ntoiced. You've become stronger, faster, haven't you? Got any other strange powers?" When Zach didn't answer, Malcolm continued, venom seeping into his voice. "Why do you think we have them? We were given these powers so we'd be able to protect people. The people we care about. If you're not going to make a stand against Nirvana, then I will, brother, but what do you think Graham'd say?" He paused for a moment, letting the verbal slap sink in. "What do you think Brigitte'd say, knowing that you let me fight your battles for you, brother?"
Zachary stared at Malcolm, a cold rage on his face. He crushed the can in his right hand, the undrunk beer spilling onto the plush white carpet. "Tell me who to kill."

Malcolm turned to a small desk, the smile coming back to his lips. He reached for a folder, lying next to a thick black book. He looked at the book for a moment before snatching up the folder and handing it to Zachary. "You'll need a codename. Think about it."

I slid the door to the warehouse closed then threw my coat off. The girl was leaning against a wall, her chest heaving from the sprint. Her duffle bag slipped from her arm, falling heavily to the bare concrete. No wonder she was so tired. What did she have in there? 'You right?' The girl looked at me with brilliant blue eyes beneath a frazzled blunt auburn fringe. She nodded jerkily.
'Look at you, Zach, bringing a girl home. Time flies so quickly.' Malcolm descended the stairs with a lop-sided, sarcastic grin on his mug.
I pegged the bundle of keys at him. 'Shut yer trap, Mal.' Would he believe what I saw? 'Give us a bit'a space.'
He chuckled and threw his hands up in the air. 'No going past second base, mate!' I scowled at him as he went back up the stairs. Black-haired git.
'Wanna cuppa or anything?' I asked, picking up the girl's bag.
'Yes, please.' Her voice sounded far away. Probably still in shock.
'Take a seat, get comfy, and it'll be done in a sec.' I put her bag next to an old couch. Yeah, it had a few bare threads here and there, but at least it was comfortable. She gave the couch a quizzical look. 'It's safe. There's no gigantic roach monster in there.' At least she still had some of her wits about her.
The kitchen area--at least that's what we called it--was just a mishmash of shelves, cupboards, draws, slats on bricks, an old stove and a dinky sink. The water from it tasted of iron, but you got used to it. Dishes and pots clattered around in a cupboard as I rifled through it for the old teapot we used. 'Alright, mate?' Mal called before leaping from the rails of the second level. We'd been able to do crazy stunts like that since that day.
'Just making a cuppa.' I didn't want to put up with his crap. 'You want one, too?' I didn't bother looking at him.
'Nah, I'm good. Hey, that girl, what's her name, then?' I shoved the kettle on the stove and lit the gas. 'Might wanna put some water in that, bro.' I grunted. I filled up the kettle and put it back on the element, watching the flame carefully. It looked like there were things inside the flame. Yeah, it'd been a long day. Bug men and fire pictures. 'You're a talkative fellow today, aren't you? She get you in a sensitive spot or something?'
'Mal, whaddaya want?' Earl grey? Irish breakfast? They were the only two teas we had.
'That book,' he said in a more serious tone that made me stop for a moment. 'Did you want to look at it?'
'What's in it?' Earl grey it was.
He scoffed. 'This'll sound insane, but it's like a journal.' A man like Ralph kept a journal? 'Some parts of it look ancient, some parts look like they were written last week. It looks like Ralph had been writing in it. It says he was given the book by some German guy.'
'Sounds like a rippin' read,' I said sarcastically as I took the whistling kettle off the stove.
'That's a no, then? I'll hold on to it.' He began to shuffle off.
'Why hold on to it? Just chuck it out.' I turned to him, holding the tea cup.
'Have a little faith, Zach,' he said over his shoulder.
'Faith in what?'
'History.'

Starting from scratch was hard. Without Graham, Mal and me had to try and work it out for ourselves. Then there were our new... Well, we called them powers. Kinda a stupid, I know, but, eh. We didn't have the first clue about them. We just kept doing what we had done while we tried to work out what to do.
Sometime when I was fifteen--it would've been a few months after we started to gather more members using our old rep--I'd been selling some necklaces in one of the Camden Markets I'd flogged from some ritsy jeweller's. The fuzz was on to me, so I was high tailing it out of there as fast as I could when some space cadet wandered out in front of me as I was checking behind me. The tumble ended up with her sprawled out on top of me. Not quite sure of what to do, I just lay there like a stiff.
"What the hell's wrong with you, you creep?!" the auburn-haired girl asked as she jumped up, grabbing her bag. Not wanting to make a scene, I got up, dusted off my coat and went to leave, but she grabbed my arm. "Hey, I'm not finished with you!"
I turned to say something to her, but the bizarre sight of a figure in a black cloak shut me up. "Is there some kinda dress up party on, mate?" The girl started screaming as she saw the hooded shape. Not wanting to put up with anymore crap, I shoved the girl toward the cloaked figure. "Take yer school girl and clear off, then." A pale, wrinkled hand reached out of the cloak toward the girl. Something shifted in me, and I heard the voice in the back of my head whispering to me. The voice from that night. The girl has to die. Kill her. Without even thinking, I'd pulled out one of the daggers strapped into my coat and began advancing on the two strangers. For the sake of the Advent, kill her. I drew the dagger back as it was engulfed in a layer of dancing fire, then thrust with inhuman speed, drawing an equally inhuman shriek from the cloaked grandpa before it dispersed into a shower of creepy crawlies. Roaches, centipedes, flies and assorted beetles scuttled and buzzed away into the shadows as quickly as they could. From the girl's scream, I don't know what scared her more, the cloaked creeper or the bugs. I flicked the dagger, extinguishing those flames that were becoming commonplace in my life. Killing girls just isn't my style, I decided. Regardless, I needed to get out of there even more now, and those cops wouldn't be far away, still, I couldn't leave that poor girl standing there. I grabbed her hand and ran as fast as I could.

The book that Ralph held as he killed the closest thing to a father he'd ever known was held up by Malcolm as he lay on one of the couches he and Dio had saved from the garbage man. No wonder Ralph was off his rocker. The book was a lot longer than it seemed, or maybe it was more like it shrunk and expanded somehow. The text in the book changed all over the place, looking completely handwritten. The first pages were in a faded, curly script. The language wasn't even in English.
Malcolm flipped through the book. The further he got into the thick book, the more he cold understand. From what he'd gathered, the book had been used to record the life stories of people. As he neared the end of the book, he found himself proven right. 'The book was passed to Ralph von Wettin from Gunter Weihen.' Malcom slammed the book shut and tossed it to the ground. He didn't want to read about that wanker's life. He rested his eyes as he lay there, ignoring the usual nagging feeling that something was watching him from the shadows.

'It wasn't supposed to... Be this way...' Ralph spluttered as he breathed his last, his own sword stuck through his chest.
'Then don't fuck with the Blades,' Malcolm sneered, red eyes glowing. He gave the blade a final twist before yanking it out of the pack leader. Malcolm turned to me, staring into my eyes. 'What's happened to your eyes, man?'
'Same to you, Mal. Your eyes look like one of the Wolves' goons.' I wiped off my bloodied daggers on a corpse's coat. 'You heard a voice, right? Blood and paper?' My black-haired friend nodded. 'Feel any different?'
Mal looked at his forearm as he flexed it, holding Ralph's sword in his hand. 'This is as light as a feather. I saw how fast you were moving. Now we're ahead of the game, Zach. The Blades'll be stronger than ever!'
He was so excited about it, but there was no way we could do it. 'The Blades are dead, Mal. Graham's gone, it's just us. We had almost a hundred members before. Let's just call it quits, mate.' This was a hollow victory. It was just death on top of death. Ralph's death's wasn't worth losing Graham.
'What are you talking about? You're pulling my leg, right? What else do you think you'll do? Get a job at Burger King? We've been blessed, Zach.' He walked over to me, sword in one hand and the other held out to me. 'Don't leave me alone now, brother. Don't leave me alone in the dark.' I stared at Malcolm. A brother, huh? I wondered how Josh was doing. He couldn't've gone off the rails as badly as I had. Malcolm had a point, though. What else would I do? 'We've been blessed. Don't let it go to waste.' I'd already screwed up with one brother, I didn't have it in me to do it again.
'Let's do it.' I took his hand and he pulled me up. 'But not tonight, man. I need to sleep.' Malcolm chuckled as he tucked a black book into his back pocket.

The world I woke up in was strange. Dark and suffocating, like breathing in someone's breath. Scratching noises echoed all around me, but they were almost unhearable.
'Do you want to live?' The voice came from all around me and from within me at the same time. It sounded like the crunch of Autumn leaves as you step on them. What sort of question was that? Of course I wanted to live. A glowing, but old looking scroll unfurled in front of me, and I felt a sharp sting on the tip of my right index finger. 'Press that finger against here, and not only will you live, but you'll have untold power. Imagine, Zachary, having the power to erase anyone you wanted with no more effort than killing an ant. That power will be yours.' Ralph... Without hesitation, I pressed my finger against the parchment, leaving a red stain on the yellowed surface. The blood shot out from the red spot I left, creating swirling intricate patterns.
'What is that?' I asked, eyes locked on the display.
'A parlour trick compared to what you'll be able to do, friend. Now go, Zachary. The world awaits.'
Never trust a disembodied voice that sounds like dead leaves.

Somehow the bullet had missed Ralph. It had to've; he wasn't dead or even in pain. The Wolves leapt at us.
I'm not entirely sure what happened in the middle of that scrap up. I was slicing wildly with my dagger at two large men. No matter how much skin and muscle I cut through, the two men kept beating down on me. I eventually lost conciousness to a lullaby of gunshots and bellows.
When I came to, the first thing I noticed was the pain. It was like my body was on fire. I groaned, trying to move an arm to no avail. I opened my eyes to darkness and shook my head, trying to clear it.
'This is the way all are first brought into the circle.' The voice was Ralph's. Then there was a scraping sound. Steel against concrete.
'Turn that damn racket off.' Graham made it out, too. He made a brave effort to sound confident, but with my sight gone, I could hear the strain in his voice. 'Zach, Mal, you boys okay?' I managed a grunt through a gag, echoed by an equally weak one from Malcolm. He sounded further away than Graham, but at least he was alive. The grating stopped.
'Perfect trust and perfect love, the two passwords.' Ralph again. 'Brethren, we are gathered here today to trace history in accordance with the book. It is written that on this day, the passwords will be entrusted to the holder of the book, bearing hope and despair in either hand. The word will be erased, quickening the beast.' What the hell was that arsehole on about? 'The world is narrow, the future is recorded, this blade is guided by the record. We now draw down the moon and sacrifice to the beast of the end.' I heard Graham yell out. It sounded painful, whatever happened to him, but I needed to focus on getting myself out. I thrashed, hearing the jingle of steel. Chains? 'Shh.' I felt Ralph's breath on my face, smelt it as swept over the cold sweat. It reeked to high heaven. Something was smeared across my face. A metallic smell invaded my nostrils, and the fire that had been running through every nerve stopped suddenly as I fell into a deeper darkness.

  After that day, Graham changed. He became harder, colder, far more millitary than before. Malcolm and I were swept along in the wake of Graham's thirst for answers and revenge. We didn't mind. We wanted them just as badly as him. We pulled in favours lent to us. There was no shortage of dirt we'd gathered on politicians, high-profile businessmen and cops over the years, and we could use all the help we could get.