Mayfair Vol 3 #9: Elevation

The gunshot wounds have torn me from the inside out, how much they’ve given me made me wonder the life I’ve got left. It resides like a health bar, but in this case it’s not a game, and the upgrades don’t restore unless you know how to utilize them well.

 

A game is the life, the one on hard mode is the one we’re playing now, crashing to the final boss and you question—was it worth it, full of obstacles? The treasure, the loots?

 

I wish it were scaled back to be easier. I’m a short man, a dwarf born out of wedlock, the endurance and the hardship my mother gave the life for me and my brother Rolf will never be forgotten. Using my hands, I crafted things, both for a living, and both to survive.

 

When they’re wasted, they’re useless, and so is my body, immortal as it is, will break down eventually. I can feel my blood rushing but my mind is sinking, I should be strong willed and twice as durable; but this…to be tortured by this thing, merely who I would dare call a creature, not my kind, I could not look into those eyes that gives me fear.

 

Fear that friends have, shared around the others.

 

Nord: “The girl. We will tear her wings apart, and consume her…”

Graybane: “The flesh is new, the blood we reap and sow, the seeds planted…the other lady, she is a detrimental whore who heals fast. Good…good for the society.”

Thow: “And the men? Same as shall be, the parasites consume one by one, but I would not let the old man go to waste, our high leader must deal with him…the other fresh faces…they will not escape the trials this time, heh…heh…”

Koles: “Don’t even think about it, you mindless, foul fucks.”

 

Bald Rasputin, the team’s leader. He was fearless in front of a solvent problem that would have cured the Black Death, instead of purging the virus, it became an insane weapon, too much awareness gone all the way wrong, made it really fucked up. The grotesque thing looked at Koles in the eyes, who stared back with no remorse. I didn’t know how he’d look like that in the slaughterhouse in London, thrice as big…and the legs, of various animals conjured together, must have been the doing of another person; a crazy taxidermist.

 

Insane things breed insane things, we are the root of a problem that causes it, but unless there is a solution, there will be no end to it. A madman could only make something so benevolent to the wicked Vampire King—but for he was not Dracula. I did go to Romania with my team a few times, the legends intertwined between fact and fiction, only that to humans and to the bloodsuckers, he was idolized, romanticized alike.

 

And suddenly, I witness a beam glittering. Of orange, fiery light that shown down on us, but my head was bleeding from the concussion—I shouldn’t be thinking too much. In came a robed man who looked like he stole some of our parts followed by a strengthened Magnus, Florence and Sean. Despite looking messy and broken, they looked like they were up for a fight.

 

Robed Man: “The time is over, like I said, I am the one who brings upon your judgement. The witches and wizards with me did not deserve this.”

Creek: “Ah…my…my creator. You have come at last, Father.”

Sean: “Father? Well, fuck me if this is a jolly good fest.”

Magnus: “Retribution comes for you, for what you did to us.”

Florence: “No more loops. We end the cycle, today.”

 

Sean slices a few of the cult members ahead, who looked like they were going to unleash some satanic powers. Hellfire, probably. He was a full on samurai, one katana without the knives. Must be glorious. Florence’s cutlass reappeared, and she did the same, but her poor old shotgun was now a bat. I must say, it is an impressive modpon. Magnus was displaying badassery; full force of his magic and wind combined, swept the members off and disintegrated them.

 

The robed man stepped forward as his staff transformed into a lance, his body revealing runes on his armor, and his arms. He must have been a good tattoo artist, but that’s just a theory in my head. Going head on with the five creatures. I would have preferred their human forms when I was interrogated, honestly.

 

Robed Man: “The ritual of siphoning stops now. I’ve found you long enough, and I will never, ever call you my child. You’ve tainted too much blood on your hands—you will never stop or learn.”

Creek: “Insanity pleads no guilty here, but even as a creation, I rebel. We, rebel.”

Robed Man: “Don’t think so.”

Thow: “Attack him!”

 

They were no match for this mysterious man. His voice commandeered such power and force that felt oddly human to me. Perhaps, there was a chance of hope. Florence then removed us from our chains, using magic that also took out our pain, as she said, it would slowly heal. She got her sister, then Lucien, then Eldris..me and the rest.

 

Florence: “I usually hate this, but I owe you tons. Even you, Prez.”

Prez: “Ah, captain. I indulge in your ability to conjure magic.”

Florence: “First, don’t call me captain, I abhor the organization I once worked with for ages, two, we’re standing on a country with half the population dead, and three, find someone good to take cover with these teleportation gems.”

Lucien: “Those things? You’re doing a great job. Might be the best of us all, captain. Ugh…pain aside, we’ll do fine. Let me retrieve our friends first.”

Florence: “I told you not the captain—fine, whatever.”

 

Miracles don’t usually happen, and I’m not religious, but I was praying for every second with my heart. I’m glad Terry found himself with Cal. Have to ask how those two caught up fast enough—

 

And a fireball appeared out of nowhere. Must get my machine guns…my suit of armour is beyond repair, but it should be sufficient to fight. I inhale one of the powders from a bag thrown by Rowena, as my body slowly begins to recover from the whipped and sliced wounds, the feeling of those poisons and the parasites going away as it was gonna attack my internal organs and the insides further.

 

Meanwhile, Koles, having his face healed from so many markings and scratches, showed no signs of scars. He must have been enraged, storing all that chakra energy. He also went for one of those judges—Graybane, I think. His whip was returned to him and so was his broken camera, restored.

 

As for me, I had to tag team alongside Magnus and Edris, who were efficient at those ranged weapons, so we’d naturally knew what’d we do. Poor girl…her wings must be hurt bad. I comforted my protege as she nodded back, her fierceness determined to go all hell around her. And so the mixture of blades, guns, and magic…it was nothing different like three months ago, even in Asia, nothing really changes…or has it?

 

The sub teams forming a counter attack worked very well, like taking down a pantheon of gods at different corners of a clock, because timing was key. Like conjuring a spell. This dungeon was open wide to the brim, therefore we could still breath the cold air, muddy as it was.

 

Creek: “I will…never…give up my conquest, my loyalty is to the end of eternity and this Earth.”

Robed Man: “Thousands more you ravage, and so shall it be, I will find you to the edge.”

Creek: “Defying me as your creation, littered with nothing, you are no better than the rest.”

Robed Man: “Yes, I may not be. It was truly a mistake after all.”

 

The robed man’s pole continued to swerve at every move, he was dashing, but at the proper speed, relentless, like I’ve never seen this fighting form before. Like a Shaolin monk, being like water, but the fire combined…yin and yang. How could he achieve this.

 

And what came next was unexpected. He hit the creature’s main chest, a mixture of insects, a rat king, various snakes--god I wanna throw up. But it was a parlaying point…and then the man’s hand showed off a ring of fire, directly to the face of its eyes, yellow and petrified now.

 

Robed Man: “No last words for you, never…and I hereby declare you…executed.”

 

“No goodbyes.”

 

***

Done