The Supernatural Case of an Accidental Time Traveler

[Paul_Tromba]

Down by the south river, there was a boat that served as a bar for sailors, or at least that's what most people thought. It was actually a bar where supernatural creatures could be themselves, without having to worry about any human seeing them. Although, it wasn't outright banning humans either. Humans just stayed away because most thought it was for sailors who wanted to start fights. Because of this, anyone with half a brain stayed away.

Scott, however, had done the opposite, not because he was an idiot, but because he knew that the bar was a hive for underworld supernatural business. Everything from drug smugglers to slavers would use this place for meetings, because no one cared as long as you paid up. If anyone knew about the Changeling or Sir Micheal, they would be here.

The ship had three levels: upper deck, lower deck, and cargo hold. The bar was located on the lower deck, but the upper deck was filled with drunks and criminals who didn't mind making someone they didn't like disappear when they happened to wander onto the ship. It just so happened that none of them liked Scott, who was both a drunk and on the verge of being a criminal.

Of course, they also knew what he was capable of, drunk or not, so they let him pass for the most part…

"Hey, you, Mr. Agent, are you here to kill us?" A drunk troll yelled out to Scott, as if to taunt him. Trolls were usually large and stout, with long beards. This one, on the other hand, had mutton chops that extended out several centimeters. He also happened to be short and stout, rather than tall and stout like most Trolls.

"No, I don't have any business concerning any of you," Scott replied as he continued towards the door to the lower deck. Though, the Troll continued taunting him.

"So we are not good enough for you, Langston. We know you were a street rat before you stole that name. The name that instilled fear in every creature throughout London, until you took it over. What would your bitch of a wife think if she saw you now? A lowly dru—"

Scott's body disappeared in a flash, as if it fazed out of existence for a moment, appearing in front of the drunk troll. Startled by Scott's sudden reappearance, the troll began to fall back, before Scott grabbed him by the throat. The Troll screamed in pain as the silver within Scott's gloves burned his neck. "You can insult me all you want, but never insult my wife. You got that?!" The troll nodded fearfully, so Scott released the grip he had on his throat. It left a burn mark in the shape of a hand for all to see, but Scott didn't care. The troll scrambled to get up and run away, but was unable to go more than a meter before falling on his face.

Scott continued on as if nothing happened, and those around him parted away from him. He felt like he was going to throw up. Using the runes on his body while under the influence of alcohol, as he learned in the past, can lead to nausea and dizziness. Neither was ideal for a boat, but he couldn't help but lose his temper.

Upon entering the bar, no one even bothered to look at him. They were mostly too busy with their drinks or private conversations to care. It was much different than the atmosphere upstairs. Thus, no one noticed his somewhat drained face, nor did they notice that he was an agent. Scott strut past several tables over to the bar, and took a seat.

The barkeep, Bonaparte, was human from a noble family, but his face had been deformed at birth to the point that his family labeled him as a monster, and eventually kicked him out. He had found a place in London, though, as a friend to all supernatural beings, because they never judged him by his looks, and took him in. "What can I get for you, Scott?" he asked.

"Information," Scott replied.

"What kind?" Bonaparte asked, as he picked up a glass and began wiping it clean.

"A changeling or perhaps a masked man with long hair. Have you heard anything about them?" Bonaparte kept wiping out the cup as he thought, eventually remembering something.

"There were a few changelings here as a pack several months ago, but two of them disappeared. Although, it's strange for you to ever see more than one changeling in the same spot. They like to keep to themselves."

"Has the Changeling been here since?" Scott asked, as he tried to reach over the counter for a bottle. Bonaparte slapped his hand away, before setting the glass he was wiping down in front of Scott, then pouring him some of the bottle he was reaching for with a sigh.

"Yes, after the two disappeared, it came here often, before a robed man wearing a mask came in and made a deal with him."

"A robed man?" Scott repeated curiously.

"Yes, he was wearing a mask as you mentioned before, but he was wearing a long robe with a hood covering all but the mask."

"And what kind of deal did they make?" Scott asked, before raising the glass as if to say thanks and taking a sip.

"I'm not entirely sure, but the Changeling was very excited about the deal, as if it only benefited him."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because he was smiling from ear to ear the whole time," Bonaparte replied with a callous smile.

"So I guess the Changeling wasn't entirely lying. It isn't being forced to do it, but it still made a deal with a masked man," Scott said to himself as he stood up. He quickly downed the contents of the drink and set down his payment for the information as well as the drink. "Thanks, Bonaparte."

"Anytime, Scott," Bonaparte said with a nod.

***

From above the streets of London, familiars similar to birds watched the night streets while the people slept. Invisible to the naked eye, they mobilized at the behest of Elysif, and Iscariot. Many of which focused their sight upon Hanbury Street. During the day, Scott, myself, and many of Mama Louise's underlings watched the busy London streets. Although we had people all over, we made sure to keep a low profile by being inconsistent with our routines, but also by acting as naturally as possible.

It was only with the help of Iscariot that Elysif was able to create enough familiars in order to cover the cityscape of Whitechapel from above. However, doing so gave her a tremendous headache after a while. Thus, Mama Louise's people watched the area anytime that we weren't able to. Scott and I worked in shifts to go around the area. Scott was still worried that this was a ruse, so, on top of our new duties, we also scouted other areas.

So far, it was going well. After switching out with Scott, I ended up going to bed quite early, to deal with the amount of patrolling that I had been doing the past week. Not only were my feet sore, but I felt like I was going to die from exhaustion. It wasn't long before I was asleep, then I started to see the stars all around me. For some reason, I was in the "Realm of Stars", as I had dubbed it.

Turning around, I saw the genderless child-like being known as Sela sitting behind me. Like last time, Sela was dressed in a toga with long flowing hair draped down behind, and plastered on the being's face was a slightly amused smile. I was a little shocked, not because I was afraid, but because I was starting to get used to this. "Do you have to be so dramatic that I arrive facing away from you?" I asked.

"Well, you're no fun," Sela scoffed with a mocking scowl.

"So, why have you summoned me? I thought I was giving you a pretty good story, with the whole murder mystery that I am working to solve," I asked with a barely sarcastic tone.

"Technically, you have solved it. The Changeling is the murderer. However, I summoned you here to help in a way," Sela stated, as if the being had already been so willing to help before this.

"And how do you plan on doing that? I can't travel to any time that I already exist, so I can't stop the first murder, and I can't travel forward because I don't know when they're going to attack. To add to that, I can't time travel at all yet, because I haven't figured out how," I voiced my complaints with a tad bit of annoyance. Ever since we had met Rubin, I had been trying to learn how to time travel. It had yet to work.

"Seems like you're a little mad about this," Sela scoffed in amusement.

"Maybe. I am a bit angry because you will not give me any straight answers," I continued to say, in the same sarcastic tone that seemed to humour Sela.

"Well, I don't have to help you," Sela said with a sassy pop of the being's lips.

"I know… but you want to," I said, calling out the child-like being's bluff.

"True," Sela agreed.

"So, what can you do?" I asked, unconvinced that Sela would actually help me without some kind of catch.

"I can show you the date that the Changeling is going to attack, and where," Sela casually said. I was surprised that they were willing to help me this easily. What made it so shocking was that they were so willing to help that they offered to do so out of their own free will.

"Really?" I asked in surprised.

"Of course, but it's up to you on how to deal with it."

"Okay, when and where do they attack?"

"The Changeling didn't lie to you about where it would take place. As for the date, well… the 8th of September," Sela answered as if trying to remember what it was.

"But that's today! Why would you tell me at the last minute?" I asked angrily.

"The suspense," Sela said with an amused but sadistic smile. With a snap of the toga-clad being's fingers, I was falling again.

I slammed into my bed with a painful amount of force, similar to the way that your body jerks awake mid-sleep. Despite this, I threw on my clothes and rushed out the door. As I was heading out the door, I checked my watch which read 5:27 AM. Hoping that I wasn't too late, I ran out the door.

When I finally reached Hanbury, my watch read 6:14 AM. Scott was standing with Elysif near the stairway to a backyard on 29 Hanbury Street. When I ran up beside them, I saw why they were standing there. The corpse of a woman, who was more mutilated than the last, lay in front. Her organs were lying on her right shoulder, while her flesh was lying to the left of her corpse. She also had two cuts to the throat, just like the other one. A note lay beside her, written in blood, it said, "Why didn't you stop me?"

Elysif said nothing out of respect, but I was feeling too sick from seeing such a sight to say anything. Scott just turned away and started walking. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"To find the nearest officer. They'll want to report it," Scott answered with a heavy sigh.

Elysif turned back to face me, but I had already wandered off. I had teetered towards the end of the alley, where I began releasing every form of matter built up in my stomach out of my mouth. I couldn't look at it. This was my fault. I couldn't stop it, even though I knew it was going to happen. "This is my fault," I said with a shaken tone.

"What? How is this your fault?" Elysif asked, confused.

"I could have taken the Changeling in when I saw him, and I knew the murder would happen today but I couldn't stop it," I said as I began to pity myself.

"How did you know it would happen today?"

"The one who gave me the ability to travel through time…" My lips quivered as I tried to speak. Forcing myself to calm down, I finished my sentence, "... told me while I slept," I answered, as I leaned against the closest building.

"Rubin?" she asked with an even more bewildered look.

"No… no, the one who gave every one of us so-called Time Lords the ability to time travel, Sela," I corrected her.

"Sela? Really?" Elysif mocked, not amused by that name.

"Well, that's the name it gave me," I said, a little bothered that she could still be amused by anything, even after what we just looked at.

"Alright, but why tell you now and not a while ago?" she asked logically.

"'The suspense,' or so Sela said," I answered, shrugging.

"Then, this is on this Sela thing, not you. You don't need to take the blame for it." As she said this, Elysif placed her hand on my shoulder to comfort me. It didn't help at all, as all I could feel was to be angry at myself.

"But I do! I didn't capture the Changeling when I met it before, I didn't get here in time, and I can't save anyone with this useless power," I snapped, before punching the brick wall of the alley. My knuckles bled slightly from the impact, but I was too angry to care. Elysif just stood there, without saying a word.

"Just leave me alone for a while," I said, stumbling away. Elysif began to go after me, but stopped herself, and instead, just leaned against the building. She knew there wasn't anything that she could say to change my mind. She knew, because she was the same.

 

[Paul_Tromba]

Spoiler: Authors Warning/Note

The following chapter contains mild gore that some may find disturbing.

I wandered through London till I realized that I was starving, so I bought something to eat from a bakery that happened to be open. It wasn't much, just a small pastry, but it would hold me over for a while. The feeling of guilt didn't seem to go away no matter how long I traveled, so I decided to take a page out of Scott's book. I found a liquor store and bought some booze. Within an hour, I was hammered, and meandering down the side of a river.

My vision was going in and out. To add to this, I could barely walk straight. All of the people who saw me just stood as far away as they could from me, to avoid my drunk swaying. I couldn't handle hard liquor, apparently, so I sat myself down in an alley with a good view of the river. It was so calm and peaceful that it made me wish that I could be part of it. However, my wish slowly drifted away, as I drifted out of consciousness. The last thing I saw was a masked person strutting up next to me with an eager swagger. Thankfully, I didn't see that bastard, Sela, again.

***

"I wonder where Lou went?" Elysif asked aloud, as she looked through various reports on Scott's couch. The mid-day sun illuminated the apartment, allowing much of the dust in the air to be seen with every small gust in the air. At the desk, Scott sat with a determined look on his face, and a pen in his hand.

"Who cares? That isn't our problem at the moment," Scott replied, as he looked over various maps of London.

"But it's been three days now, and he still hasn't come home," Elysif complained with a worried look.

"Look, I understand that you're worried, but he is a grown man and can take care of himself better than most. We just need to focus on finding the Changeling, with or without him," Scott said, as if he could hide the fact that he too was a bit worried.

"Okay," Elysif let it go, but with as close to a pouting face as she could possibly express without looking like a brat.

"What did you find out at the coroner's office?" Scott asked, changing the subject.

"Nothing new. It was just as we had suspected, the uterus was removed," Elysif replied, pretending to read the report.

"Well, some people said that she was seen with a dark-haired man wearing a dear-stalker hat and a dark overcoat," Scott added, hoping that would trigger some kind of connection.

"Yes, I heard something similar. However, some said he was dressed rather shabby, and others said that they overheard him ask her if she would do something for him and she agreed. I don't really know how helpful that is," she said with a disappointed look.

"That's odd. Did we finally get a name for the victim?" Scott asked.

"Yes, Annie Chapman," Elysif answered.

"Did she have any history with the supernatural?"

"No."

Scott rubbed his chin for a moment, before taking a swig of alcohol. He figured that something would come together in his mind, that maybe there was something he was missing. Sadly, nothing new came to mind. "Well, I'm out of ideas."

"Really?"

"Yep, we can't track him based on looks, because it's a Changeling. Narrowing down where it could go would never work, since we have no proper leads. Mama Louise's shadows have found nothing either."

"You're right, this is hopeless," Elysif said with an annoyed grunt, as she dropped the report on the floor.

"Want to grab a bite to eat?" Scott asked after a moment.

"Why not?" Elysif agreed with a shrug, before getting up from the couch.

"Maybe Lou will be back when we return. Then, he can finally help us," Scott said with a wary but hopeful tone.

"You really think that?" Elysif asked as if she didn't believe him.

"Of course. He couldn't have gotten into that much trouble..."

***

I groggily opened my eyes to see that I was in trouble, lots of trouble. A person, whom I presumed was Sir Micheal, sat beside me as I lay on a cot, handcuffed to the bars at my hands and feet. I had little to no basis for the assumption that it was Sir Micheal, other than the fact that he wore a creepy white mask. Strangely, his hands looked old and worn, with dried blood on his semi-nailless fingers. Shrouding his head, chest, and arms was a grey cloak-like robe, painted with various runic symbols, but his pants were simple brown slacks, throwing off the aesthetic a bit. Attempting to bounce the cot, I realized that it was nailed to the floor, which was starting to make me panic. Whilst I rattled the cot, the masked figure just sat there, eyeing me. I couldn't help but scream in terror.

I continued screaming until my throat ran dry, and began having a coughing fit. Annoyed with my behavior, Sir Micheal got up and stepped towards the back of the room, which if it were any more disturbing in here, could be perfectly described as a horror movie murder shack. The cracked walls were covered in brown and red stains that contrasted with the yellowish hue covering every centimeter of it. To add, the floor was made of dirt, and there were no windows, so dust was kicked up every time someone took a step. The roof, however, was just some creaky boards that, when shifted, allowed for more dust to sprinkle down. It was like a basement. Cold, dusty, and mildly damp. To add to the eerie effect, the only light was that of a few candles.

After a few minutes, Sir Micheal returned holding a glass of water that he offered to me. I reluctantly accepted. Thus, he unlocked the shackle from my right hand so that I might hold the cup to my lips myself. As I started to drink it, he sat down, as he was before, and watched me with a disturbingly intense stare. Everything about this situation was weird. I wasn't sure how I was supposed to react anymore.

"Are you finished screaming now?" he asked in a calm manner, but with an almost threatening tone. He sounded as old as his hand looked, but it felt off somehow. It felt as if the voice wasn't entirely his own.

"I would believe so. What do you plan on doing with me?" I asked, trying to be cool about it. Though it was in vain, as I had already ruined any chance of seeming cool by screaming.

"That depends entirely on you," he replied, as if he were ready to make a deal.

"H-how so?" I asked, lacking understanding and fearing for my life.

"I have learned through a mutual acquaintance that you can travel through time. If you can do something for me, then I will let you go free and stop the killings done by our Changeling friend," The masked individual offered.

"What mutual acquaintance?" I asked, distraught. Who would I know that could possibly know this man?

"Rubin Reuben," he stated, making sure to accentuate the R's in each word.

"You know Rubin?" I asked with a surprised look. How could Rubin know a guy like this? Actually, never mind… that makes perfect sense.

"Knew Rubin? I killed him after I learned of your existence. Too dangerous to let such a genius have access to such a power," he stated as if he didn't care about Rubin at all.

"What?! Why?!" I asked angrily. Why was I angry? I don't know. Perhaps it was because I knew him? It was only for a day, though.

"Like I said, I couldn't allow anyone else to know that a time traveler was in our midst, or else I wouldn't have been able to do this," he answered cruelly.

"Well, I don't know what he told you, but it's a waste of time," I retorted.

"How so?" he asked, as he tilted his head to the side. I couldn't read any expressions due to the mask, but I assumed that he wasn't pleased by my response.

"I can't do it. I haven't been able to travel through time since I came to this time period. I don't even really know how I ended up here," I explained. The more I fell under the impression that I was pissing off this man, the more I was washed with a sense of dread.

"That may be true now, but I will make you learn to do so, or else you will suffer far worse than anyone in history," the masked figure threatened. The dread shifted to fear, despite my best efforts to conceal it. Just what was he planning on doing to me

"What does that mean?" I asked with a worried look. Tilting his head down towards my wrist, he slowly graced his old fingers across my arm. It was almost as if he were admiring my arm. As his hand slid up towards my elbow, he spoke.

"Did you know that according to Rubin, your body as a Time Lord can regenerate entire limbs after a period of time? Well, it's more like turning back time on your injuries. You have noticed that when you get hurt, it heals faster than normal, right? As such, I can torture you as much as I want, so long as I don't do anything lethal, and you'll be fine," the masked figure softly said, his words oozing sadism, almost as if he were in a state of rapture. I couldn't help but cringe. Though, I was more terrified about what that meant for me.

"I would rather that you not do that," I replied in a nervous tone.

"If you learn to time travel quickly, then I don't have to go through with all that, so try," he firmly stated.

"What do you even want me to do?" I finally had the nerve to ask.

"Go to a time before the Table was created and save someone for me. Just one single person and I will have the killings stopped. You will also go free without any issues, of course," Sir Micheal explained as he gestured with various hand motions.

"I'll have to sleep on it," I answered, trying to buy myself some more time. All of this sounded like a bad idea. If I couldn't time travel, then he would torture me… probably. If I refuse, then the same thing will happen, though.

"As you wish, but tomorrow I will need an answer. In the event that I don't like your answer, then I will make you change your mind," Sir Micheal said with an evil grin. I couldn't see it under the mask, but I could tell because he was a sadistic freak. He took the glass from my hand and, before I could react, he shackled my right hand back to the cot. I had no choice, so I laid back down, hoping to see Sela in my dream again.

***

"What a mess you've gotten yourself into." I heard a miffed voice say from behind me. I was in the Realm of Stars again. "First, you fail to save the girl or even capture the killer, then you get captured by the enemy. You are not good at being a hero."

"Did I ask to be the hero?" I asked rhetorically. Sela floated above the pool with its legs crossed. Although the immature deity could be leveled with myself, it instead chose to spin around slowly, as if it were experiencing zero gravity. Despite that, the brat never lost eye contact no matter which way it spun.

"No, but everyone wants to be a hero at some point. Some people just give up on that dream too early, or they haven't been put in a place where needing to be a hero matters to them yet," Sela said, pretending to be profound.

"I guess, but why is this happening to me? You warned me about the Changeling at the last minute and then I got captured because I was given this useless power," I complained as if I were begging for an answer.

"It would have happened to anybody with a good conscience."

"What?"

"I didn't choose you, you just happened to be the one who I landed on. So don't go blaming me for your new power, I just give it out. There was no way to save that woman, she was going to die whether you were there in time or not. Plus, it's your fault that you got captured. All because you didn't understand how you were supposed to deal with the fact that you can't protect anybody," Sela rambled with a smug grin.

"So why even tell me? If I can't protect them, then why even give me a chance to try?!" I asked, unsure of Sela's logic and morally bothered by it.

"I wanted to see what you would do, and you surprised me."

"How could I possibly surprise you?" I asked, even more confused than before.

"Because you knew it was impossible, yet you still tried. It may have felt possible, but deep down you knew there was no way for you to do anything. Scott is powerful enough to singlehandedly commit genocide, Elysif is capable of healing people on the verge of death, and Iscariot is feared by some of the most powerful organizations in the world. You, on the other hand, have a knife, a pistol, and a shitty memory of the future. So, what could you do next to them?" Sela said in a mocking tone.

"I know that already. I'm useless," I couldn't deny it. I was basically useless compared to everyone around me. Yeah, I'm probably stronger than the average person at this point, but I can barely hold my own in the world of the supernatural. In my pity, all I could do was sit down on the watery pool below me. As I touched it, I noticed that the water was not wet, but instead, cold and dry to the touch.

"You may be now, but with me, you have an eternity to become powerful," Sela said with the most comforting tone that I've heard from this child-like deity since I had met it. That said, it still sounded like Sela was lording itself over me.

"So will you help me escape this maniac?" I asked, hoping for something helpful.

"Of course not! This is just getting good," the being said in a belittling manner, accentuating its child-like nature. I am getting really tired of this kid.

"Will you at least tell me if I can save the person that the masked man spoke of; and if so, how to do it?" I asked, hoping that I could at least get something out of this.

"No, they're impossible to save, because the person in question is an Elder One, something similar to myself. I mean, there is one way to do it, but you would have to be desperate and devoid of natural human morals to attempt it, so I'm not telling you," Sela explained. The name Elder One, I have heard it before. I just can't remember where.

"Wait, like yourself? Wouldn't that make you want to save them?" I asked with a confused expression.

"Of course not. They were created for the sake of this dimension, and as such, they must live it out in their own way. The reason they can't be saved is that all Elder Ones' destinies, much like Time Lords', are set in stone. They can't be saved, except through special circumstances. Do you remember what was said about changing things that affect stuff you do?"

"Yes, I can't change anything that affects something I have already done, because the universe will correct it," I responded as if I had memorized the line.

"Exactly, so by him capturing you, he has forced you to be affected by the person's death. In turn, since all Elder Ones are connected, and the death of an Elder One is permanently set in stone, he has sealed the fate of the one he wanted to save, as well as any others," Sela said. I didn't quite get it, but I assumed it was some butterfly effect logic or something. All that mattered, though, was that I couldn't save the person the masked figure wanted me to.

"Then, how do I get out of here and escape from Sir Micheal?"

"You must learn to unlock your ability, or die here. Also, he isn't Sir Micheal, just a knockoff," Sela answered in a sadistic yet somehow oblivious tone. Despite the grave nature of this conversation, Sela continued to spin above the water, without a care in the world.

"Can't you help me explain this situation to whoever the masked figure is?" I asked, still hoping to get something out of this.

"Nope," Sela said before I jolted awake with a cold sweat. Unlike before, I didn't have that falling sensation. What an asshole! Looking around, I saw that I was no longer resting on the cot. Instead, I was tied to a barber's chair in a room slightly different than the one before. I assumed that the door, or doorway, was behind me, because I saw no windows or doors, just the wood panels overhead and the yellowish-hued plaster walls, covered in stains.

"Have you come up with an answer?" the one claiming to be Sir Micheal asked from the dark corner, before emerging threateningly on the left side of the barber's chair.

"I couldn't help you even if I could use my ability. An Elder One can't be saved, especially since you did something to me that was entirely dependent upon their death. Now, I can't change it, even if I could," I replied calmly. However, I couldn't hide my ever-growing terror. It was as if he was radiating with rage.

"First, I want to know how you knew that the person I wanted you to save was an Elder One, and second, what did I do that was so dependent on their death, as you said?" the masked figure asked with a fair amount of rage seeping from behind his gritted teeth.

"My power told me that the person you wanted me to save was an Elder One, and by capturing me, you have set their death in stone. Nothing more can be done," I replied honestly. Though, my shaky voice didn't help him believe me.

"That wasn't the answer I wanted to hear," he said, apologetically, with a sigh. Grabbing my left pinky finger, he snapped it completely back, breaking it. I cried out in agony before he grabbed the next one and broke it too. This continued on, without pause, snap after snap until every finger on my left hand was broken. Tears ran down my face as I begged him to stop, but instead, he was drawn to my right hand and continued the process without a word.

"Do you want to go back in time now?" he asked once he had finished. I nodded in response as I sobbed. Trying to curl my fingers, all they did was hurt with just the slightest twitch. My left hand was starting to turn blue and swell from the pressure, with the right soon following.

"Then do it!" the masked man yelled angrily, as he reached over to a countertop for a butcher's knife. Slamming the knife down on my left index finger, he laughed like a maniac. Screams of agony echoed throughout the room for a moment, before I finally stopped and looked down at my missing finger.

Attempts to beg for mercy flashed through my mind and face, but nothing came from my lips. Taking my silence as defiance, the masked man brought the knife down again, this time on my left middle finger. I screamed again but as I did, an old rag was stuffed into my mouth in place of a gag. It tasted like dried blood, but I didn't care. The pain was too unbearable for me to worry about that. All I could do was cry and let out muffled begs for mercy through the rag as each finger was cut off in succession.

 

[Paul_Tromba]

Jack the Ripper/Masked man

 

[Paul_Tromba]

Scott Langston sat at his desk holding a strange cocktail. Unlike every other time in which he favored the bottle itself, he had decided against it for once. Rather than drink it, though, he just stared at the glass with a sprig of mint resting in it, while deep in thought. Sitting on the couch reading a book on disappearances, was Elysif, who made a habit of glancing over at Scott every now and then.

"Are you ever going to drink that, or are you considering going cold turkey?" she asked in a somewhat prude tone.

"I'm worried about Lou," Scott said in a monotone voice, staring at his glass as he swirled it. This caused the stagnant mint leaves at the bottom of the strangely bubbling glass to lift upward with a light brown syrup.

"So am I, but didn't you say he would be fine?" Elysif asked with an annoyed look.

"Yes. Though that was before he was missing for over a week. I was hoping that the changeling would attack in the same fashion as before, where it attacked after only a week of waiting. That hasn't happened, though. The changeling hasn't attacked, and I assume it has something to do with Lou's disappearance." He wasn't entirely sure about this, but his gut feeling told him that he should lean towards this theory.

"I have thought the same thing, but it doesn't make much sense. The only way that would sound rational is if Lou found the changeling and fought it. Either he lost, or they both lost. Even if that was the case, we would have seen evidence of it, such as Lou's body being found somewhere," Elysif rationalized.

"True. Maybe he successfully time-traveled? If he did, that would be a good reason for why he hasn't come back yet,"

"He seemed really torn up about the whole thing. He kept saying that he knew it was going to happen," Elysif pondered aloud with a depressed look.

"He might have. That may be the reason as to why he attempted to time travel… if he did, that is," Scott said with a sigh.

"I wish that I had stopped him before he left. Then we wouldn't be here wasting our time thinking about what could have happened," Elysif said, lamenting, as she set her book down and stretched out on the couch.

"Don't beat yourself up about it. There was nothing you could have done to make him stay there. What I am truly worried about is the possibility that he was captured."

"By whom, the changeling?" Elysif asked with an unconvinced look.

"Maybe, or perhaps by Sir Micheal."

"What I find strange is that no one was really talking about this Sir Micheal character, except Mordred, until Lou showed up. Now, we see or hear about Sir Micheal all the time. He saved your drunk ass once, and now there's the possibility that he is working with a changeling serial killer," Elysif wondered.

"I know, it's as if Lou is the catalyst for Sir Micheal reappearing. If Mordred were to hear that, she would probably find him, lock him up, and use him in some sort of trap for Sir Micheal," Scott said as if deep in thought.

"Really? You think so?" Elysif asked, impressed.

"Yes, I do."

"If Mordred is so motivated to find Sir Micheal, why don't we have her come to London and find Lou? we could tell her what you just said with the promise that Lou stays with us," Elysif suggested.

"No, that is out of the question. We have to find Lou without bringing Mordred into it. She is just too unpredictable when it comes to anything involving Sir Micheal. Remember what happened seven years ago? " Scott said. Elysif knew what he was referring to, but she didn't think that incident was similar. That said, bringing up that memory caused Elysif to tense up and shiver. As it became harder to breath, she squeezed her arm and forcibly slowed her breath, calming herself down before she reacted worse. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a small metal vial and pulled the cork. Removing one of the pills from inside, she swallowed it dry, before speaking again.

"I understand where you are coming from, but this is different. Do you not trust the one who is running the Table with Lou's life?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. I can't trust Mordred to worry about the life of her subordinate when it comes to her vendetta. She is too hate-driven to think rationally about it. I should know. Merlin knows this more than anyone so he always handles things involving that subject rather than have her do it."

"Can that pervert actually be of use? I would never have thought Merlin would care so much," Elysif asked as she had a very low view of him.

"You don't understand them, do you? Merlin was good friends with Mordred's father, so when he was killed, Mordred was filled with hate and he didn't have time to mourn, because he was too worried about Mordred to come to terms with it properly; Or at least that's what I've heard," Scott said with a shake of his head.

"I see."

"He took care of Mordred in her father's place. Merlin may seem perverted, but that's just a ruse he puts up to take Mordred's mind off her hate. Haven't you noticed that the only times he's been truly perverted or obnoxious is after someone mentions Sir Micheal?"

"I didn't realize that," Elysif replied, thinking back to see if her memories could recall that.

"He took as much weight off her shoulders as he could, and is the laughingstock of the Table for her sake. It's his way of coping, and the directors respect him for being that kind of person for nearly thirteen-hundred years," Scott continued as if he looked up to him.

"I guess I never understood why you didn't want to bring in Mordred... You only wanted to protect her and make Merlin's job easier, I'm sorry," Elysif said apologetically.

"It's okay, but we have to find Lou, as well as this changeling. If we just so happen to find Sir Micheal on the way, then we'll bring him in," he said, before finally drinking the glass of liquor he had been examining for something earlier unknown. He made a face of refreshment and surprise, which quickly shifted to being unsure of the flavor.

"Got it," Elysif replied with a determined smile.

***

I sat in the barber's chair completely unconscious. It had only been a week since I was captured, but it felt like an eternity. As the masked figure had said, my limbs were growing back. Albeit at a slow rate, they were. However, every time they started to grow back, he would cut them off again. He would cut the skin all over my body, then cover my wounds in salt and vinegar. It burned as my nerves cried out from under my skin. Death would have been a relief. On several occasions, I had tried to escape when he would leave me alone, thinking I was unconscious, but none of my attempts worked. Now, my arms and legs were nailed to the chair to keep me from attempting it again. Moving was agony because the nails scraped the inside of my flesh like coarse sandpaper.

Every so often, though, the nails would be pushed out from the holes where they once were, as they healed. Seeing this, my torturer would nail them in again as he felt necessary. Over time, I realized that the more he hurt me, the sooner it was until it had to be done again; As if my rate of healing was becoming faster. After the fifth day, I began to notice not only this, but I also realized that my pain tolerance increased ever so slightly. Each experience hurt slightly less than the last time.

No matter what, though, I would eventually succumb to the agonizing pain and lose consciousness. Those moments where I was asleep and not being tortured were the only moments I had to look forward to. Whenever I would, I always ended up talking to Sela. The kid was more annoying than useful, but atleast I wouldn't be lonely during this endeavor. I wondered if Scott and Elysif ever came looking for me. They had to have done something. Wait, I take that back. Last time I was in trouble, Scott watched from a distance while drinking, and Elysif took a nap. It's hopeless. No one is coming to save me.

To add to my list of issues, Sela refuses to help me at all. All the kid ever does is complain about my annoying screams and asks to play games. Why is everyone around me so selfish and useless? It didn't matter though. I was slowly going crazy. With every severed limb, a pain like a lightning bolt would shoot through my body as if it were screaming to release my soul. I would get a second or two of relief, before another part of me would be cut off and the cycle repeated. How… How many? How many fingers, toes, limbs, fingernails, and teeth had been ripped out and grown back? By this point it was somewhere between 2,986… 2,987… 2,988… 2,989… it continued on and on. Counting each time I fell asleep caused my hand to shake in fear, despite being in the Realm of Stars.

"Whatcha thinkin about?" Sela asked whilst floating upside down. The long hair on one side of Sela's head was nearly touching the floor, and had turned a sleek black, while the short hair, on the other hand, turned a silvery white.

"I'm thinking about how the hell I am going to get out of here, and also about how useless you are in this situation," I replied. Sela continued floating until arriving back on the watery floor in a criss-crossed sitting position.

"Well, that's rude," Sela said with a sarcastic tone, making a pouty face as she did.

"You know, your sarcasm isn't helping."

"I know, but this whole torture thing is getting boring. Maybe you could get out of here faster if you actually talked to the guy instead of screaming at him," Sela still seemed to feel the need to be sarcastic despite my comment.

"Oh, I didn't think of that. You are so wise in the ways of being a dumbass. What the hell do you think I've been doing?" I snapped, standing up.

"Hey, don't get mad at me. You were the one who got yourself into this mess," Sela replied with a haughty expression.

"You do realize that if you didn't have the body of a child, I would kick your ass, right?" I stated, angrily. On many occasions I had considered punting the pint-sized being, but I couldn't due to personal ideals.

"As if you could do that," Sela stated pridefully as she stood up.

"Don't tempt me you little shit. I will punt you to the moon," I threatened. Although I couldn't see any moons around... But I assumed there was one, and I would sure as hell try to hit it.

"You know what? I'll help you. I know what you could try?" The spiteful look on Sela's face made me both fearful and curious as she spoke.

"Oh, so now you want to help? This better be good," I replied, giving in.

"Just piss him off," Sela said with a strangely smug look.

"What?"

"You have realized that you heal faster and faster, right?"

"Of course."

"Well, once you can heal near instantly, you could piss him off enough to where he severs your held limbs. Once he does, you can heal quickly and escape," Sela explained, like a know-it-all.

"That's not a bad idea. Though I would rather not suffer through all that."

"And that's my cue to have you wake up," Sela replied with a partial sadist's smile.

"Can't I stay a little longer? You may be an insufferable bastard, but it's better than being tortured," I begged.

"Nope," Sela said, snapping its fingers.

I opened my eyes, as I have many times over the past week, to see the masked man standing over me. He was in the middle of sharpening the large and menacing cleaver that he had already used several times to sever my fingers in a way that made me very uncomfortable. I strained in the chair in hopes of getting some leeway, but to no avail. It was only half a second before I realized that was a mistake.

The masked figure stopped sharpening the cleaver and looked me in the eye. I could feel his gaze eating at me like a fear toxin. All I could do was tremble, as dust blew up from the floor below him. "Good! You're awake," he said in such high spirits that it made me sick. I couldn't believe that someone like this could even exist.

"P—Please let me go. I want to go home," I begged, as tears began welling up in my eyes. I was too afraid to control my emotions. Being calm and rational within the Realm of Stars was easy, but only because pain didn't register over there. Here, on the other hand, was different. I was mortified by this man and anything he could do to me. Some of the things he could do to me were probably beyond my imagination. Actually, my imagination wasn't that far off from what he could actually do, since I could grow back my limbs.

"Oh, I would send you home now if I could, but do remember that I need you to do something for me, and you aren't exactly complying as well as I had originally hoped," he spouted in a menacing but nearly insane manner.

"I told you already, I can't save them—" I started to say, but I was cut off by the sound of one of my fingers being smashed by the backside of the cleaver. My body jolted in pain, and all I could do was grit my teeth and glare angrily.

"Lies!!!" he yelled whilst punching my face. "You can save them! You just aren't trying hard enough!"

"Jesus Christ, I've done everything I can. Please just let me go," I retorted hatefully through my bruised jaw, causing spit to shoot in his direction.

"Perhaps, but even if I can't make you go back, cutting you into pieces is absolutely therapeutic. To add to this, your ability to heal is improving marvelously. Your fingers have grown back completely overnight. I wonder how fast it will be in a fortnight," the masked figure asked threateningly.

My fight-or-flight response kicked in with an uncontrollable urge to flee. I struggled in the chair desperately, in the hope that by some herculean miracle I could break out. I didn't want the torture to continue as it had before, but I couldn't break the bindings. They barely budged from their original spots. It was hopeless, though I kept trying, desperately.

"Now, let's begin," he said, picking the butcher's knife back up. "I think I'll start here," he exclaimed, as he held the cleaver to my shoulder and drew it down my chest at an angle, slowly. The cut was only deep enough to allow blood to leak out, but not enough to cut through my muscles. I couldn't help but wince in pain as he did it, even though I was trying to tough it out.

"You bitch!" I cursed at him with a large amount of spit right on his mask.

"How rude, but it's to be expected. I am hurting you. Although, I would like you to know that, as Sir Micheal, I have people I want to protect," he said in a strangely carefree way.

"You're not even Sir Micheal, just an imposter!" I spat. He grabbed my throat without hesitation.

With almost a whisper between seething teeth, he spoke in a deeply threatening voice, unlike before. "And what, may I ask, would bring you to that conclusion?" His breath stunk of rot and disease, similar to a rotting corpse. I gagged but held in my lunch out of fear of when my next would be.

"My power told me you aren't the real Sir Micheal." I heaved out through the stench and fear.

Releasing my throat, my captor's mood shifted as he became more relaxed. Resting the cleaver on his shoulder as if he were a lumberjack, his mood shifted from threatening to casual. In a kind, almost respectful tone, he agreed. "Well, you're correct. I am not the real Sir Micheal. The real one disappeared from existence when King Arthur died. There have been many imposters since then. I am simply the newest one."

"But why?" I asked.

"Fear, the name itself can instill fear in anyone who knows of it. Even the legendary Mordred is terrified of the name. Why do you think she hates him so much?" the masked figure explained.

"Because he killed her father?"

"No, she has lived long enough that revenge has become pointless. She hates Sir Micheal because he was able to kill Arthur, who was capable of destroying an entire empire if he so desired. That is something anyone would find terrifying."

I couldn't reply. I didn't think about it like that. Was Mordred really as scared, or even more so, of the real Sir Micheal as I was of this imposter? If that were the case, then he must truly be a monster. I couldn't think about it for too long, though, as the masked figure dragged the cleaver from my other shoulder down to my stomach. Unable to push through it, I cried out in pain. As he ran the knife's edge across my skin, I saw the door open, and a rather plump woman in her mid to late thirties strolled in, holding a basket full of food.

She had her hair covered with a bonnet and was dressed similarly to that of a midwife, with a brown gown and white apron. Her face was covered in freckles and she had glazed-over hazel eyes. She wasn't exactly a sight for sore eyes, but maybe she could save me. That idea, however, changed when she gave me a smug grin and sauntered over to me.

"Didn't think you would have believed me so easily at that tavern. You actually went your own way sooner than we had hoped, and now, my part of the deal is done. I have you to thank for that," the woman said with a smug look.

"What?" I asked in confusion.

"Oh, you probably don't recognize me. I was the old man that you noticed at the tavern. To think that you would have known the man that I changed into," she continued. It was then that I realized that this woman was the changeling.

"Wait… how did you know that I would be there?"

"I didn't. I was just getting a drink. The plan, originally, was that I would follow you until I could get you alone and convince you, but instead, you just sat down beside me. I told you before that it was divine fate that we had met there, and I meant it," the changeling stated with an erratic tone.

"But what about your code?"

"All lies. There is no such code for any changeling. That's why we are almost extinct. If there were any with that sort of code, then they would have been wiped out just for being one of us," the changeling spouted with a disturbingly proud expression.

"Enough, Elick. You're ruining my fun," the masked figure said calmly but firmly.

"Oh, come on now, masked one. I am enjoying this just as much as you. I wouldn't have made a deal with you if it wasn't a win-win situation for me," the changeling said before slamming a piece of moldy bread into my mouth. It tasted like ass, but I didn't know how long they were going to keep me from starving, so I chewed it as best I could without gagging.

 

[Paul_Tromba]

Spoiler: Authors Warning/Note

The following chapter contains mild bodily gore that some may find disturbing. Read at your own discretion.

Scott and Elysif entered Iscariot's home upon his request. The walls of Iscariot's home were covered in papers and strings that connected in a fashion that most wouldn't be able to identify. Various papers were adorned with mathematical equations along with overhead mappings of Whitechapel. To add to the weirdness, Iscariot's home wasn't just the usual single room but rather, was made of several rooms, some of which contained rare stones, while others held vials of many different colours, and each had their own unique lighting style to fit the mood of the room.

"So what was this amazing discovery you found? We're a little busy trying to find Lou as well as a serial killer," Scott asked Iscariot, who was sitting at his desk with a wide grin on his face.

"I have found out how the changeling has been able to kill without being seen as well as escape. I would think that this could be useful to you?" Iscariot replied in his normal raspy pubescent voice.

"How?" Elysif asked eagerly.

"Well, I was trying to figure out how anyone would be able to avoid your familiars when we had so many at large. Then it hit me. What if they distorted space? So, after testing the area in which both bodies were found, I discovered that this was the case," Iscariot explained.

"But I thought you were the only one who knew how to use and control that kind of magic? The only reason that all the Table holding cells have them is because you designed them," Scott asked with a confused look.

"It is true that my ability to manipulate space is far too difficult for most to use, but there are other forms that are quite easy to master. For example, if one wanted to make a copy of the space they were to be in, they could easily create a false space that seemed like an empty area to anyone who happened by. In other words, you'll be invisible. However, with this kind of spatial effect, if someone were to enter the false space other than those already inside it, then it would disappear. The same could be said if the creator left the space," Iscariot explained as he pointed at some of the documents on the walls.

"I see, but that still doesn't explain how they could have escaped," Elysif said.

"That one is a bit more difficult to do, but it is still an easy possibility. Do you know how our eyes see by reflecting light?"

""Yes!"" they both answered.

"Well, if one were to manipulate the space directly around their bodies, then they could make it so that the light passes around their bodies except for their eyes. If they did that, then they would be blind. From there, they could escape with ease as the familiars are on the lookout for a person, not a pair of floating eyes," Iscariot theorized like a madman.

"That's helpful, but how are we going to catch them if we can't see them?" Scott asked. Elysif, on the other hand, was thinking this theory over because it didn't make any logical sense to her.

"I'm not sure yet," Iscariot said with a disheartened look.

"That's not exactly reassuring," Elysif replied with a roll of her eyes.

"What do you want? I just told you how it's committing the murders and you expect me to magically know how to prevent it?" Iscariot asked.

""Yes!"" they both replied in unison.

"You both are bastards," Iscariot stated with absolute disgust.

"Well, yes. We are both in fact by definition, bastards," Scott replied in a strangely proud way.

"I didn't mean—Don't be smart-alecks," Iscariot replied with a shake of his head.

"Hooray, we're bastard siblings," Scott and Elysif sang as if celebrating, before locking arms and spinning in a very mocking dance.

"I hate you both," said Iscariot with another shake of his head.

"Well, have you found anything else?" Scott asked, changing the subject and returning to standing still.

"Not on that subject, but I may have a way to track young Barrett."

"Really?" Elysif questioned, surprised by Iscariot's success despite being well, Iscariot. He ignored her sassy remark, and continued explaining.

"I figured that since Lou was from the future, he may have a different effect on space than the rest of the population. Excluding myself and perhaps a few other sorcerers with my capabilities, Lou is the only one whose body naturally distorts space. He vibrates on a scale not too far off than you or I, but that difference is just enough to possibly track him," Iscariot explained as he pointed at a drawing of Lou shaking next to a drawing of a random person who wasn't shaking.

"Well then, get to it!" Scott demanded, excited by this news.

"It's not as simple as I explained. What I told you is a theory. Actually creating something to prove the theory could take days to several days here. For you, that would be a month to a year. I would tell you to speak with the College about this, but they wouldn't be able to track Lou due to his natural distortion of space," Iscariot said as he lowered his head in a bit of shame.

"Then attempt it out here, where time is normal," Elysif stated as it made logical sense.

"I could, but I would need help moving the equipment to your home."

"Can't you just teleport it there with your, oh-so-great spatial magic?" Elysif argued as she started to get angrier and angrier on Lou's behalf.

"No. A lot of the materials need to be taken carefully. The two of you need to do some real work from time to time. Scott, you are starting to grow a beer gut and Elysif, you are becoming slothful." They both gave him an angry stare in return. Though he wasn't wrong. In fact, it wouldn't hurt for Scott to lose a few pounds, and Elysif could pitch in a bit more.

"Hey Scott, because I'm so slothful, I think I'll just go home. He can easily do it himself," Elysif said, as she turned to scott in an overly dramatic fashion.

"That's fine, Elysif. With my beer-belly growing, I don't think I can carry all this stuff anyways, so I'll join you," Scott replied in the same dramatic fashion, but with a swig of his flask, before they both headed for the door

"No, please, wait." Iscariot pleaded… but they had already left. Because of this, he shook his head with a sigh and began writing out the equation for transporting things between his place and Scott's temporarily. He wasn't going to argue with them, especially since he just didn't want to go through the trouble of doing it himself. They simply called his bluff.


***


The thick butcher's blade slid across my arm with clean precision. A sliver of blood started to run out of the cut, but within a matter of seconds, it returned to the wound and healed completely. I had screamed in agony when this first began. Before, every cut was agonizing, but now everything was numb. There was no pain to feel, but there was no bliss either. My eyes had grown cold and distant in the process. To think that I had reached a point of mental nonexistence. The only sliver of hope I had left was drifting away with every second. The last bit of mental and physical strength I had left in this body was going to be used to annoy the shit out of this asshole, whether I lived or died.

I tilted my head to the side and stared at the masked one. Even though I couldn't see his face, I could tell he was exhausted. "Do you really wish to continue? There isn't even any point to this, now that I can't even feel it," I asked in the sassiest way I could muster beneath my weak expression.

He stopped the blade with a defeated slump before gracelessly pulling the knife to his side. "Have you forgotten that I still need you to go back in time? I will hurt you anyway I can and make you wish you weren't even alive," the masked figure replied with a tired but determined voice. He was ready to see this through. no matter what. Part of me felt as if he too was pointlessly grasping at any sliver of hope he could find.

"I don't want to live anymore. I feel as if nothing matters now that my hope of escaping here has disappeared. I just want it to end," I said honestly, but I kept my sassiness just to annoy him more if I could.

"If that's the case then what if I torture your friends?" he said as he began to perk up with the new idea.

"How would that help you?" I asked, dropping the sassy tone as I realized it was probably just making things worse.

"Maybe it will make you more compliant?" the masked figure said aloud, but I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or himself.

"Why don't you just kill me now?" I asked, hoping he would give in.

"Because that would only benefit you. I will capture the witch and the Table agent. Then I will make you watch as I tear them apart, limb from limb," he answered sadistically with a sudden increase in energy.

"Don't do it. It won't make it easier for me to time travel," I stated while my head fell back against the wood headrest of the barber's chair from exhaustion

"Oh, but it will. You see, when you told me that the one I wanted to save would die no matter what, I thought about it, and I came to an easy solution that helps all of us. Why don't I have you take me to a time before their death so that I can be with them?" the masked figure asked with an opportunistic glare that I felt piercing my soul through the mask.

"I might be able to do that, but I still don't know how to do it yet," I replied tiredly. If it were possible, then I could drop him off and never see him again. Though I can't even use my ability yet.

"Then you shall learn, or I will do whatever I deem necessary to your friends in order to force you."

"We've been over this many times already over the past two weeks, and nothing has come of it. My power is dead set on watching me suffer at your hand. Just let me go home," I begged with a sleepless and tired expression.

"No!" the Masked man exclaimed, bringing the knife down on my wrist and severing my hand. I didn't even flinch, as blood dripped from the newly formed stub. The stub then started producing bones, covering them with flesh and veins, followed by several layers of skin and my fingernails perfectly trimmed. My old hand, which had been cleaved off, dissipated like water under the hot sun.

"Did that calm you down some?" I asked with the same sassy tone as before. My lack of reaction made him even more annoyed than before.

"Why, yes it did. Now go to sleep and demand that power of yours to take me back in time," the masked figure said, before storming away in a huff.

"Sure thing, dickweed," I said, happily closing my eyes and hoping to see the Realm of Stars.

 

[Paul_Tromba]

Spoiler: Authors Warning/Note

the following chapter contains mild gore that some may find unsettling. It is the last one, I promise.

"He's rather impatient," I heard from behind me. It was Sela, who had decided that my back was good to rest against. The stars around us, like every other time, hadn't shifted, but now it seemed like there were more of them.

"You can say that again?" I replied as I admired the scenery. The beauty of the night sky all around us was just calming enough to take away my mental anguish for a bit of time.

"Well, if you're going to be here for a while, would you like to play a game?" Sela asked.

"Sure, but can what that masked man offered even be done?"

"In theory, yes, but do you really want to do what he said? He has tortured you for a while and him going back could cause problems for the earlier version of himself. Even if you could do it, would you try?" Sela answered as if it wasn't too keen on the idea. Both Sela and I turned around to face each other.

"Of course not," I replied adamantly.

"Then you should escape soon. He'll kill you otherwise." Sela warned. The expression the being held seemed to show a caring side, but I knew that any form of consideration for me was absent from the deity's mind.

"Well, how do I escape, then? He isn't likely to just chop off some limbs above the bindings now that he knows I can just grow them back," I asked, impatient but calmly. Sela bobbed a bit back and forth before holding up one finger.

"I'll give you a single hint," Sela said with a grin that was either smug or sinister. I couldn't tell. Either way, it seemed like they were messing with me.

"Okay?" I replied warily.

"Your watch. Why has it not been touched even though he has had plenty of times to destroy it or cut it from your wrist? He cut off the hand that the watch wasn't on and subconsciously avoided it. Why?" Sela asked as if the answer was obvious.

"So basically, it's the catalyst for my abilities? Why didn't you say anything before?" I asked in annoyance. All Sela did was sit there with a proud and poorly produced innocent smile.

"..."

"You suck, you know that?" I spoke.

"Yep! So, want to play rummy or backgammon?" Sela asked, changing the subject. I didn't really care so I let out a defeated sigh.

"I guess rummy for now," I replied, giving the child-like demon a bored look.

"You seem down. Is everything okay?" Sela asked in a surprisingly caring tone compared to every other conversation we've had. It made me start to think that maybe Sela actually did care about my well-being to an extent. Though the question itself set me off. After asking me this, Sela raised a small table with a deck of cards from the pool between us.

"Is that some sort of joke? Take a look at everything that has happened over the past few weeks and think about why I might be down," I asked, annoyed but mesmerized by the cards Sela was shuffling and dealing out.

"No, I get that you would be a practical husk of a man, but you seem down in a different way," Sela noted with genuine concern. It was as if this being was trying to understand me. Just what was going on inside its head?

"And why do you say that?" I asked.

"Well, like most people that I have been with while they were tortured, you freaked out and got mad at me... but after that, you just started brooding. That was something very few of them did, and those that did usually died very soon after," Sela explained, not as if they were people to reminisce over, but as if they were toys that it had lost interest in.

"So, what you're saying is, that I'm racing towards my death?" I summarized, hoping that Sela would give me some kind of straightforward answer.

"Not exactly. Even though you started brooding, you haven't stayed that way. Instead, you are thinking about how things might play out, despite going through severe tortures and trauma that might affect you for the rest of your life. It isn't normal. At least, compared to those I've watched in the past." Even though Sela seemed to be in control, there was a sense of the unknown. If I was considered an outlier then what did that mean for my future? Could Sela be planning something worse for me? I didn't want to think about it.

"Is that why you gave me that hint?" I wondered aloud. Perhaps, Sela would help me out after all.

"Yep. If I just let you idle to your death while you're still trying to avoid it then what kind of god would I be?"

"You are already a terrible god. I don't want to know what other impression you were trying to give me," I said like a smartass.

"Despite all the trauma that was just inflicted upon you, you've somehow become incredibly sassy," Sela said with a smug look as the being took their turn.

"Was I not sassy before?" I asked, knowing that I have always been pretty sassy.

"No, you were sassy. You just weren't blatantly sassy like you are now… Gin!" Sela exclaimed as she threw her hand down to show me.

"We're playing rummy," I replied, unamused.

"Oh, then I would like to be kinged," Sela corrected poorly as if they didn't realize.

"What?"

"Checkmate!" Sela exclaimed. By this point, I knew they were fucking with me.

"Did you get a concussion when no one was looking?" I asked in a louder voice than before.

"..."

"Can I just wake up now? To be honest, the torture would be more relaxing than having to deal with you," I asked as I was starting to get annoyed with Sela. I now knew what needed to be done thanks to this pint-sized being, but I was getting sick of their attitude.

"That's rude," Sela replied, taken aback.

"Yeah, coming from the demon child," I snapped.

"You're the one who subconsciously imagined me this way."

"I refuse to believe that my mind decided that I would like to be harassed by some lonely, sassy, demon child," I stated with a scoff. Sela rapidly stood up, nearly flipping the table.

"I am not lonely!" Sela exclaimed. Really? That was what got to them? Wow.

"Then why do you keep asking me to play games when I am obviously not in the mood?" I asked like a smartass.

"You weren't nearly as mean before all this," Sela said with a pouting face.

"Maybe you should have helped then, you little shit!" I exclaimed, standing up. Suddenly the stars around us began fading and Sela stared at me with their right eye glowing red and the left glowing blue. It became pitch black and behind time was a creature beyond the pitch black darkness. I couldn't see much except its outline but it wasn't a humanoid. Its eyes glowed in the same fashion as Sela did but on the opposite sides. I couldn't even quake out of terror but for some reason, I didn't feel afraid, just frozen.

""Do you really think we can't destroy you in an instant? We brought you here, and although you have suffered, you will also experience great things. Humour us and you shall be rewarded. So do not question us!"" Sela and the creature declared in unison. It was Sela's young voice mixed with that of a demonic being, shaking the whole of the world we were in. When they had finished yelling, the creature's voice disappeared and the stars returned to their bright and elegant display. I was in shock while Sela just stood there, pouting even more like a child than I thought was possible. Just who the hell was this kid really?


***


Elysif sat against the right side of her bed. Her knees were close to her head and her arms were wrapped around them. She hated this feeling. The feeling that she had already lost someone, or perhaps she was about to. Sadly, she knew the feeling all too well. Everyone who seemed to care for her seemed to disappear like she was cursed. Seven years ago she lost her entire family, then she lost Scott's wife, Silva, and now she may lose Lou.

She didn't want anyone else to disappear. She had convinced herself that Scott was immune to the curse due to his body being as it is, but no matter what she did, the curse that she had believed followed her was always going to take people from her. It's not as if a curse really existed, but rather, it is a curse created in order to place blame on. There were no heroes in her past, so she didn't expect one to show up now. However, that didn't stop her from asking.

"Please, someone, bring him back to us," she whispered to herself as she clutched her knees like a stuffed doll. A few teardrops streamed down her face and onto her kneecaps as she did. A knock at the door startled her for a moment before she heard Scott's voice.

"Elysif, are you in there? I think I have a lead," she got up and scurried to the door.

"What kind of lead?" Elysif asked, opening the door.

"Were you… crying?" Scott asked with a worried expression.

"N—no," she stammered, too prideful to admit that she was.

"Anyways, there's an old barber who lives at the edge of Whitechapel. Iscariot said that he thinks Lou might be in his barbershop according to his assessment. We should check it out."

"Well, then what are we waiting for?" Elysif asked, as she grabbed her coat off the rack and stuffed her feet into her shoes.

"You. Also, Iscariot said not to get our hopes up, because he isn't sure how accurate it is," Scott said, trying to emotionally prepare her for the worst.

"Do you really think that I would do that?" Elysif asked sarcastically.

"Yes, I do," he said as he hurried out towards the door to the building, with Elysif in tow.


***


"Do you feel up to it now?" the masked figure asked. He still looked a little worn out, but my body didn't want to respond. In the Realm of Stars there is no such thing as pain, so I always forget about my trauma, as well as my physical pain by the time I return to the real world. Thus, my body felt numb and everything in my head was screaming. It hurts… or did it? I couldn't tell anymore.

"I w—want t—to help y—you," I stammered out painfully.

"Good, now take me to the one I need to save," the masked man demanded.

"F—first you must d—destroy my watch," I stuttered.

"Your watch?" he said, confused.

"It's the catalyst for my power," I replied honestly. My throat was parched and my throat hurt, but I kept up my act.

"Alrighty then, take me to the one I love in the year 454 AD," he said, picking up the cleaver. As he did, I thought of the apartment and everything that was there. From the couch, my bed, the empty as well as half-full bottles of rum thrown all over the place, and the bookcase covered in dust. Eagerly, the masked figure brought the cleaver down on the watch. It shattered along with my forearm. After doing so, he realized that I had tricked him, and began yelling obscenities, but it was too late.

The feeling of passing through time could only be described as enthralling. My body felt as though it had turned to dust in a similar fashion to that of any monster. I swore that I had passed into the Realm of Stars momentarily, before seeing the apartment, or at least its floorboards. Falling face first into the floorboards, several empty rum bottles were sent flying away from me, nearly knocking over a large stack of papers left beside the couch.

"Ow… Next time I have to figure out how to land on the bed," I said to myself. As I started to push myself up, I realized I couldn't feel my hand. It was gone. "Come on, grow back," I said aloud, but before I finished saying it, the bones began forming. Once it was completely healed, I scooted over against the wall beside the door and started chuckling to myself.

"How far ahead in time did I go?" I asked myself, realizing that I may have been gone longer than I thought. To add to that, I was barely wearing any underwear and if they walked in on a naked Lou, thinking I was still missing, I don't know what would happen. Thus, I grabbed a folded-up quilt that was resting near the door to cover myself. The apartment didn't look all that different, though, so maybe I haven't been gone too long?

I guess I'll find out how far ahead I went eventually. I'm just glad to be back and away from that psycho. However, if I see him again, I'll rip him apart and make him wish that he was dead, just like he did to me. I couldn't help but smirk at my own thoughts. The idea of payback was intoxicating. My mind felt as if it were becoming twisted. Now that I was free, I could pay him back tenfold. My revenge was going to have to wait, though, because the door began to open up behind me.


***


Scott knocked on the door of the barbershop. No one came to the door, so he knocked again. Nothing. "Maybe there's no one here?" Elysif wondered aloud.

"No, if that were the case, then the door wouldn't be unlocked," Scott said with a stern look as he twisted the knob. Opening the door, the two peared in. "Take this," he said, handing Elysif a revolver.

"What? I can't use this," she stated in protest. Scott knew that she had no experience with guns, yet he still had the audacity to ask that of her.

"Do you think I care? You are unarmed, and I am better with physical attacks. You taking that gun will help us both," Scott stated rationally. Although, it probably wouldn't make much of a difference with the entities that they were planning on fighting.

"Fine," she said, taking it from him. The two searched the building. No one was inside. The floor was coated in a thick layer of dust, and it seemed abandoned other than a line of footprints in the dust.

"Was this building supposed to be abandoned?" Elysif asked, as she peered around the building.

"No, it wasn't, but that seems to be the case here," Scott said as he looked around each corner.

"What's this?" Elysif asked as she pulled over a rug that was set in the one part of the room without dust. Underneath it, was a hatch.

"Cellar, I guess. Let's go," Scott said. Elysif readied her pistol as he opened it. There wasn't anything there, just a ladder. Climbing down the ladder into a dark room, they found two cots, but nothing else of note, except a door on one end. Opening the door, there was a barber's chair soaked in dried blood resting in the center of the room. Beside it, to the left was a counter covered in torture tools but the only one covered in blood was a large meat cleaver.

The candles in this room were still lit, to their surprise. Next to the torturer's tools, was a pistol with a silver blade attached to it, Lou's knife, his coat, as well as his badge. "Well, Lou was here. Whether or not he's alive is a different story. His body isn't here, so I guess he might be breathing, at least," Scott said with a dissatisfied scowl.

"Aren't you worried about him at all? He was tortured here for God knows how long," Elysif asked angrily.

"Of course I'm worried, but I'm more worried about the people who did this to him," he replied, giving her a scary look that reminded Elysif of the night that Silva died. Malice and desperation were written on his face.

"Don't do it. If you do, the Table high council won't forgive you a second time. You will be executed for threatening the peace," Elysif said, knowing exactly what he was thinking. She wanted to tell him to do it, but she also knew what doing so would entail.

"I know, but you misunderstand. As far as we know, Sir Micheal is the one who did this along with that Changeling. If I tear this city apart in order to kill him, Mordred will thank me rather than have me executed," Scott replied earnestly.

"I guess, but where could he be? Where would he have been taken from here?" Elysif asked with distasteful agreeance.

"I don't know. Let's have the constable take a look around here and see what they can find. While that happens, we're gonna go to the apartment and get some things. Once we do that, I'll have a plan on how we can wipe these people off the face of the earth," Scott said, grabbing Lou's stuff off the counter.


***


-Moments before-

"Damn it, that son of a bitch tricked me! Elick, we're leaving," the masked figure said, enraged after he watched Lou Barrett disappear into thin air. He had tried to behead him as he disappeared but it was no use. He didn't want to risk Lou escaping before, and now, he'd aided his escape himself.

"What, so soon? What about the plan?" Elick, the Changeling, asked from the other room. Jumping up off the cot he was lying on, Elick began packing away his stuff without further question.

"We'll figure something out. We don't have time to grab everything, so get what you can," the masked figure said.

"I already figured that would be the case, so I have my bag mostly packed," Elick replied casually.

"You may be insane, but at least you're not stupid," he said with a humoured expression.

"Same for you, you masked lunatic. Guess I'm going to have to get a new appearance then," Elick said with a chuckle. The masked figure could only shake his head at Elick's sense of humour.

"No, big breasts suit you. Now let's get out of here," the masked figure said in a fairly joking tone, despite his demeanor.

"You really think so? They've been giving me back pain like you wouldn't believe," Elick said as the two climbed up the ladder to the main floor. They didn't have much time, because had they left a moment later, they would have been seen by Scott and Elysif.


***


Scott burst into the apartment, wearing a face I had never seen on him before. One of malice and hatred, like someone had killed his dog in front of him twice. However, his expression changed the moment he turned and saw me, sitting on the floor, wrapped in a quilt, and barely my skivvies. He seemed in shock. Charging in behind him wondering what had shocked him so much, Elysif froze upon seeing me as well. I could see tears welling up in her eyes which somehow made me feel bad.

"Hey," was all I could say, but it was enough. Elysif pushed through Scott and lunged at me for a hug, while Scott just smiled from ear to ear. He was flabbergasted by my sudden appearance, but happy nonetheless.

"Where have you been?" Scott asked, his voice breaking a bit from either excitement or joy. It didn't matter though, I was back.

"I was being tortured for three weeks by some masked psycho and that Changeling in a barber's chair," I replied somewhat sassily. Guess I had created a habit.

"We went to go find you, but you had disappeared by the time we got there... along with the two you were talking about," Elysif said as she held onto me for an uncomfortable amount of time, before letting go.

"Well, I just got out of there by using my ability," I answered.

"Ability? You mean the time travel one?" Scott asked with a curious look.

"Yep, I finally figured it out… Well, sort of," I replied as I still wasn't entirely sure how it worked. Was I supposed to break a watch every time I wanted to time travel? Was it limited to just watches or could clocks work? Did I even need to break watches anymore, or was that a one-time thing?

"Well, here's your stuff back," Scott said, handing me my knife, gun, coat, and badge. "I'm getting a drink."

"Wait, were you sober?" I asked with a surprised and kind of worried tone. He kept on towards his liquor cabinet, which at this point was most of the cabinets, with a roll of his eyes.

"He's been sober all day," Elysif answered for him. She looked to be a bit in shock from seeing me back, but ultimately seemed happy.

"You can't do that to yourself. I mean, you are destroying your liver, but still," I said, even though I knew it didn't matter what I said on that subject.

"What I want to know is, if you were tortured, then why are there no markings on your body? We saw tons of blood on the barber's chair," Scott asked as he pulled out a bottle which he rarely ever pulled out and started making himself a cocktail.

"About that…" I said before using my knife to hack off a finger. Again, I didn't even feel it. My body had grown accustomed to being hurt. Both of them gasped in shock as they saw my finger fall onto the floor with a string of blood trailing behind it. Of course, as they watched, the bones started to form back where my finger had been. This made them stare in disgusted bewilderment as it reformed the muscle, ligaments, tissue, and veins followed by the skin and fingernails. Whilst the finger grew back, the old one dissipated like a liquid. I figured that would be easier than explaining why I had no scars.

"S—so you can heal all your wounds like that?" Scott asked with a disturbed shake of his head before returning back to making his cocktail.

"Pretty much. However, the more I was tortured, the less painful it became and the faster it healed," I explained with a gaze that let them know I didn't want to discuss it further.

"Amazing," Elysif said as she looked over my hand.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Scott said before handing the cocktail he was making to me. "You told me about a Mojito one time, so I figured out how to make one. Couldn't find soda water, whatever that is, so I used cheap champagne."

"Wow. Thank you," I said before taking a sip. It was pretty good. "I won't act like it was a good thing being tortured, but you don't have to be sorry. All I can say is that when I see them again, I am going to repay them tenfold," I said with a grin that made Scott look a little concerned.

"Well, let's get you something to eat," Scott said as he toddled over to the wood stove and started working on a small fire. As he did, he started drinking from a half-empty bottle of rum rather than the one he pulled out for the cocktail. Setting my drink on the floor beside me, I pushed my back against the wall and stood up. I attempted to walk over to the couch but instead, I tripped on the end of the quilt and fell over on my face. I wanted to say "ow" but it didn't hurt. Even if I did say it, it would only get drowned out by Elysif's sudden shriek.

"What's wrong?" I asked as I pushed myself up off the ground. Scott looked up from the fire and immediately knew what Elysif was shrieking about. Then I realized it as well. You could see every inch of me from behind, due to my lack of covering. Elysif looked away from me, covering her eyes innocently whilst her face turned beet red.

I didn't understand why, though. She was a doctor. Shouldn't she be used to seeing that kind of thing? Guess not. Ignoring her reaction, I pulled myself onto the couch and laid down. Damn, I was heavy. I guess my ability can't stop muscle atrophy.

"Cover up, damn it!" She exclaimed as she threw a coat that was hanging up on the coat rack beside her at me. I did as she asked and covered up, but with the quilt, rather than the coat. Elysif quickly left and ran downstairs without a word. I, on the other hand, fell asleep. I was exhausted in every sense of the word, so I couldn't help it. It just felt so good to fall asleep for the first time in weeks without being afraid of waking up.

 

[Paul_Tromba]

Now, I wouldn't say everything had gone back to normal after that. Due to my muscle atrophy, I was barely of any use to anyone at first. My muscles weren't all that bad. With a little exercise, doing things became easier and eventually, I was soon back to normal. For a good day or two, though, I was back and forth between my bed and the couch. During that time Scott, Elysif, and I brainstormed ideas on how to catch my masked torturer and the Changeling, but came up with nothing.

Sela pretty much kept every moment of my sleep to themself. Constantly bothering me and asking me crazy philosophical questions. On top of all that, the constant nagging about me being a broken-minded husk of whom I once was pissed me off to no end. Sela would always say that if it wasn't for them then I would be having panic attacks every few minutes. I ignored it, but it got me thinking. Why haven't I broken down yet? After all that trauma you would think I would be going insane, but I mostly feel fine…

Anyways, time continued on peacefully for a while, and as I talked with everyone who entered the apartment, I realized that I was truly home. There was nowhere else on earth that I could give that name during any period of my life. This was all I needed. Of course, as I thought this, realization struck.

"You want to what?!" Elysif asked in bewilderment. She had made it a habit of coming upstairs to talk whenever she wasn't busy working on one of the many potions Scott had been requesting of her recently. I didn't dislike it. In fact, I enjoyed having her come and talk, but she also liked to appear at the worst possible times.

"I want to go forward in time and ask future versions of yourselves where the murder occurred or at least if there was one. If not, then I'll repeat the process until I can come up with something," I explained. I figured that if I could figure out how to properly time travel at will, then I could ask the future Elysif and Scott anything I wanted.

"That sounds easy enough. It might be truly our best bet," Scott said, looking up from the desk. He had been continuing to study the maps of the city whenever he wasn't patrolling or sleeping. It had started to feel like an obsession.

"Well, it's not that easy. I still don't entirely understand how to travel through certain increments in time. I deduced that when I escaped before, I only traveled an hour ahead at most. To add to that, when I did travel, I had no control over the activation. Last time my watch got destroyed and that triggered it. I don't know whether I have to destroy another watch, or if I can just do it on command now," I explained, sadly.

"Well, can't you ask your power… er, the time god, Sela?" Elysif asked, as she wasn't sure if she remembered Sela's title correctly. Though she wasn't entirely focused on our discussion, but rather, on some documents Mama Louise had sent to us. Including a list of eyewitness accounts claiming to have seen a masked individual, but all of the accounts were scattered across London.

"Yes, but Sela isn't exactly the poster child of helpfulness. It's more like a mosquito bite, you know it's there, and you want it gone, but all it ever does is itch," I said with a sassy but truthful tone.

"So you'll just be shooting in the dark until you figure it out?" Scott asked. With that, he shook his head and returned to looking over the maps.

"Pretty much," I shrugged from the couch.

"Why don't you try thinking about what caused the activation?" Elysif offered. By this point, she had set down the document in frustration and was now taking her mind off of it with our conversation.

"I would rather not," I stated firmly. Reliving that nightmare in any capacity was not something I ever wanted to do. Strangely, I couldn't recall a lot of it. It almost felt blurred.

"No, I meant the watch getting shattered. If that's the catalyst, then maybe you should mentally recreate that?" Elysif elaborated.

"I'll try but I don't know how it's gonna work," I said, closing my eyes. Picturing my watch as it was cut in two by the cleaver, I felt strangely light so I opened my eyes. Nothing had happened.

Maybe I need to be desperate in order for it to work? I thought about being tortured, the knife being raised up before being slammed down on one of my body parts. The imagery started to make me feel dizzy, like I was experiencing a flash of light, and I was terrified. My mind shifted for a second. A similar sensation to that of decomposing into dust came over me so I opened my eyes to see that the room was different. No, it wasn't different. Scott and Elysif had changed places. That was all. "Did it work?"

"Well... yes, and no," Scott said with a curious and slightly uncomfortable look. He just continued to drink like always, but it seemed like he didn't want to bother with saying anything.

"You disappeared for about a minute, then… came back," Elysif said with a similar look. However, she seemed more intrigued than anything.

"Well, I think I know how to activate it now," I said with an unenthusiastic smile.

"It's a start," Scott replied.

I wanted to ask Sela how to get the timing right, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I couldn't trust that child-like god. This was all a game to them. Toying with my life and making me suffer for some kind of twisted pleasure. I knew nothing about how any of this worked, and I couldn't trust the information that I would be given. For now, I would try doing it without Sela. If I become desperate enough, then maybe I'll consider asking.

I guess Sela realized what I was thinking, because that night, just like the past several nights, I was in the Realm of Stars. I mean, I guess that was normal at this point, but this time, there was an ominous door standing behind Sela. The door itself was completely flat, and bore an equally flat ocean-blue colour for all but the door knob. For some reason, the normally steady deity seemed livelier today. Since I had nothing better to do, I sat down in front of Sela cautiously.

"So, what do you want? You wouldn't bring me here unless you wanted to tell me something or you were bored. Lately it's been the latter," I asked with a friendly nature.

"What about when I brought you here while you were being tortured?" Sela asked with a disheartened look. Each of the being's bodily expressions showed that Sela expected me to respond a certain way, so I gave them the answer they expected.

"I would like to think you were showing a little mercy to me," I replied with a smug but thankful smile. Amused but disappointed, Sela chuckled over my response, not sadistically like normal, but like a friend enjoying themselves. I could not get a read on Sela at all.

"That's entirely up to your train of thought. Anyways, why I brought you here is because I usually know what you are thinking and I'm gonna tell you that it is 100% possible," Sela said with a signature look of superiority.

"Really?" I asked, as I didn't believe that at all, or else they would know what I really think of all this. I still didn't entirely trust Sela, and I always felt like I was on the receiving end of their absolutely bullshit divine punishment.

"Of course, but you don't have much time, so I'll tell you how to pick a destination and time," Sela stated firmly. Did this being really know what I was thinking? If so, then why does it ask me questions? Is it just that Sela hears my conversations, or do they read my mind? It didn't make sense at all.

"It would have been so much easier if you had told me how to do this in the first place. Perhaps, when I first arrived in this time period." Although I was not trying to instigate anything, my tone made it sound like I was.

"But where's the fun in that? If I did that, you wouldn't have met the other main characters," Sela said with a smug and devilish smile.

"Is this really just a story to you?"

"Yep, all humans have worth and use. Each of them is unique despite being the same in almost every aspect outside of personality. It's why I enjoy giving my power to humans. It's interesting to see what they do with it when given the opportunity," Sela said as if it were some kind of ancient Greek philosopher.

"That makes sense, but sounds like you're just trying to have fun," I replied. Although I was at peace and happy with my current life, part of me wished that I had never received this power.

"Believe what you want, though you cannot judge me. Don't you agree that things are more interesting when the unexpected happens?" Sela asked with a self righteous look.

"I guess."

"Now, about your ability. You can easily travel to any period so long as you have the time and place pictured clearly in your head. If you don't have that clear picture of where you want to go, then you'll go to the correct time, but will be somewhere completely random. If you don't know what time you want to go to, then you'll just teleport to wherever you were picturing."

"Is it that simple?" I asked, bewildered by its simplicity. Had I known that it would have been this easy, then I would have done it sooner.

"Of course not!" Sela snapped. My reply seemed to only infuriate the petite powerhouse of a time god.

"Huh?"

"You will be able to travel through time, but it will eventually break you," Sela explained.

"Then why give me this power in the first place if it was just going to hurt me?" I asked, confused and frankly annoyed.

"The ability itself isn't what is going to break you. You will break because you aren't complete or whole," Sela explained further whilst holding up some overly designed pie charts labeled with my name and missing a chunk.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked. Sela's entire body sagged in defeat, dropping the graphs onto the reflective pool beneath us. The depressed deity let out a sigh before lifting its head and pinching the bridge of its nose as if it had a headache.

"Did you really think you were just… alright? Especially after getting tortured like that for three weeks straight? When you were being tortured, your mind split off different parts of yourself like copies; but now, all that you are now is an incomplete husk, devoid of any positive driving force. Your friends have already realized that you could be putting on an act, that you may actually be in a lot of pain despite looking so at ease. You yourself haven't noticed it yet, because you're that far gone," Sela said in a way that sounded kind. However, the child-like being's face wore a sadistic and entertained smile.

"Are you saying that I'm a fake? That who I am now is not the real me?" I asked angrily before standing up.

"That's exactly what I'm saying. Your mind is split up into different parts. At this point, the only things keeping you sane right now are your intact mind's current need for revenge, and myself. If you were to satisfy that desire for revenge, then you would have nothing else to live for." Sela paused for a moment as I took in this information. I didn't know what to say as I wanted to deny it, but I could feel that Sela wasn't lying. Noticing this, Sela spoke up again. "However, if you had the other parts of your psyche, then you could go on. You may even purge yourself of your past suffering," Sela explained as if it were some demented game.

"How do I get them back?" I asked with a desperate look.

"Go through the door behind me and you'll see. Don't tell me you didn't notice it when you came here," Sela said, gesturing at the door behind it. Not knowing what else to do, I reluctantly walked past Sela, up to the bare door, and turned the knob. It opened up to reveal a small dark room. Gazing inside, the door slammed shut behind me. I should have been expecting that, though. Especially since this was Sela's domain.

From the dark recesses of the room, a light began to glow from the ceiling. It was faint at first, but slowly, it illuminated the room to reveal that I was in a cell. Turning around, I saw Sela on the other side of the cell door talking to another version, or a copy, of myself. The cell itself was completely bare. It had no bed nor chairs, and the walls were a depressing grey. Through the door, Sela and the other version of myself disappeared, before Sela reappeared in the cell with me.

"Let me out, Sela. this isn't funny," I stated, unhappy with being trapped by any means.

"I don't have the key. He does," Sela said, before pointing at a small man who I had not noticed in the cell before now. He wore a mask similar to the masked figure that tortured me. But unlike that monster, this person was balled up in the corner, hugging his knees. Tears were flowing from the eye holes in the mask, dripping to the floor every few seconds. To add to that, this small man was mumbling something to himself rapidly like a madman.

"Don't fuck with me, Sela!" I yelled, grabbing Sela's himation collar, and lifting the being towards the cell door. "You need to let me out, now!" I was seething. I didn't want to be trapped again. What did Sela think that was going to accomplish?

Sela smirked at my attempt, and the next thing I knew, I was flung back against the cell wall. The masked person in the corner didn't even take notice of me and kept mumbling nonsense. "You can get out when you get the keys from him. Until then, one of the other parts of your psyche will take over for a bit. He's the cold, rational part of you, so he'll make a perfect stand-in for when you're awake."

"You bastard," I said to Sela through gritted teeth as they disappeared. Looking over at the broken down man in the corner, I sighed and sat across from him. What was I going to do now?

 

[Paul_Tromba]

Lou's more logical self woke up to the sound of fearful screams ringing in his ear. It wasn't until a moment later that he realized; the screams were his own. Gathering himself, he got up from the bed and hobbled into the living room with a bit of a pained limp. It was still dark outside, so he assumed it was early in the morning. It made him feel glad, less to explain and more time to consider his options. Sitting down on the couch, he picked up a bottle of rum from the floor beside it. He delicately pulled the cork with a pop, lifting it up to his lips, he figured it would help with the pain for the time being. Just as he was about to taste the spiced liquor, a hand from above grabbed his wrist, stopping him from taking a swig. The hand squeezed his wrist to the point that, had he been a normal person, he would have been crying for mercy.

"What do you think you're doing?" the owner of the hand asked with a stern but worried voice. Lou tilted his head back to see that it was Scott, giving him an angry and partially exhausted look.

"I'm sorry. I should have asked before drinking your booze," Lou said apologetically. Although he wasn't entirely sure how his emotions would play into this conversation, he figured that the best way to avoid an issue was to just apologize. At least, it seemed like the easiest way to deal with the issue.

"That's not what I care about. You were about to drown whatever feelings you were having in liquor. You can't do that," Scott replied. Although, anyone who knew him would call him a hypocrite for saying that. Lou just sat there confused as he was only trying to deal with some physical pain.

"Why not? You do it," Lou replied with a melancholy tone. Scott's free hand clenched into a fist before hitting Lou in the cheek, sending him to the floor. The bottle he was holding fell with him, pouring its contents onto the floorboards.

"I drink because my body can't regulate itself without it. Maybe, when I started drinking, I used my sadness as an excuse. But now, my body is the only reason I continue drinking. Now, let me tell you, what you're bottling up can't be solved by drinking it away. The more you bottle it up, the more likely you are to lose your sanity," Scott said empathetically. He truly seemed to care and wanted to help, even though he knew he had no right to speak.

"I'm perfectly fine, I just needed a drink," Lou stated as he got back up and returned to the couch. Being the logical part of Lou's psyche, he was desperately trying to give himself some semblance of feeling other than pain for the time being. If that meant drinking, so be it.

"No, you aren't. You put on an act yesterday for me and Elysif. Whether it was to make us less worried or to make yourself feel better, it doesn't matter. No person, after being tortured for as long as you were, would be okay. Right now, your emotions feel distant, when before, you seemed happy and well off," Scott said with a worried look. He truly looked to be appealing to Lou's trauma, but as he was, Lou could not relate to nor understand his appeals.

"So what? I'm dealing with it just fine as I am," Lou said, hoping that response would discourage Scott from continuing. After doing so, he picked the bottle of rum back up and drank some of the contents.

"No, you aren't. You're just trying to cover it up with rum. Eventually, you will be unable to keep the cap on the emotions that you've bottled up. When that happens, you may lose your sanity, or worse, your humanity. I've been there, so I speak from experience. Don't just bottle it up," Scott pleaded with the same manner that he usually spoke.

"I'm sorry. You're wasting your breath on me. I am nothing more than a splinter of Lou Barrett, a small piece of his psyche. When he returns, then you can say that to him," Lou replied honestly. He knew that Scott would not understand the situation if he didn't explain it as straightforwardly as possible.

"What?" Scott asked with a befuddled shake of his head. He was starting to believe that Lou had actually lost it. Scott didn't want to think about that possibility but he was still capable of accepting it.

"Lou Barrett is currently trapped in a cage of his own making and Sela, the time god, has asked me to take over while he regains the missing parts of our psyche. I am nothing more than his logical thinking. I don't have emotions and I can't relate to what you're saying. So wait to tell him that, until he's actually able to hear it," Lou explained. Though, his explanation was a bit difficult to understand, so Scott nodded slowly as he wrapped his head around it. Part of him felt as if Lou had absolutely lost his mind.

"I see, do what you want then. Just don't get yourself or any of us killed," Scott said, before meandering back to his room.

"Are you going to tell this to Elysif?" Lou asked. Explaining this to Elysif, though, would be a lot more challenging. Not because she wouldn't understand, but because it would make everything way more complicated than it already was. Scott, upon hearing this, stood still, refusing to look back.

"I don't know yet," Scott said with a sigh.

"I feel as if Lou would want as few people to know that he isn't okay, so please, don't tell her for his sake," Lou requested.

"I can't promise that," he responded before continuing to his room.

"Of course you can't. You know it's logical, but you have emotions that say otherwise," Lou said to himself before laying back on the couch and taking another swig from the bottle. "I think this cheek might be bruised," he thought to himself. Though it quickly healed over, as if he had never been hit.

***

I sat next to my depressed cellmate, who has yet to even acknowledge my presence. The silence was starting to get on my nerves, and his lack of care was not helping. No matter how much time passed, the tears kept running down the edge of the mask, causing a small puddle to form under him. How anyone could cry that much was baffling to me. I didn't know what to do, so I just started patting his back. As I did, he stopped crying and raised his head to look at me.

"Where did you come from?" he asked with a quaking voice. I didn't know how to answer that since this was, as far as I knew, a part of my mind... or a part of the Realm of Stars, I guess.

"The door?" I replied cautiously. Pointing at the door to the cell, the man who I had realized looked starved and weak, looked at the door before shaking his head.

"But how? I locked it." the masked version of myself asked in confusion. Each word he spoke, although clear and precise, sounded to be spoken out of fear.

"I don't know. Sela told me to go through the door and the next thing I knew, I was in here with you," I replied. An awkward silence rose between us for several long seconds, before the man shifted around, his worn clothes rustling against the cold stone floor of the cell as he did.

"You can't trust Sela," the masked figure said as if I already didn't know that.

"I don't trust Sela," I replied, before sitting across from him against the hard cell wall.

"Yet, you are now trapped here… because you trusted Sela," he said, as he finally sat with his stomach exposed, revealing that the masked figure was dressed just like me. Was he a part of me? If so, I'm a smartass piece of shit. Is this how everyone else feels around me? Mildly annoyed and awkward?

"Well, don't you have the key? You can just let me out," I said, hoping that I could get an easy way out. He thought for a moment, but quickly shook his head in fear before pulling his knees back up to his chest.

"I could… but if I open the door, they will come," the man replied with a frightened, shaky tone. If this was a part of me, then I didn't want it. There was no way that I was this terrified of anything… right?

"Who?" I asked curiously. Just what were these people that my other self feared so much?

"The one who wears the mask," he said, as if he were too scared to even mention his name. If this was what Sela meant by me being broken, then how in the hell was I supposed to become whole again...? With this?

"The masked man is gone. We escaped from him," I tried to rationally explain. Could I even be rational without the rational part of myself that Sela sent in my stead? Did I still have my rational side? I had no clue.

"No, you believe you are free from him… but he is always here. He lives within us, as a memory we don't wish to remember. We do not feel the pain anymore, but we remember what it felt like. It will haunt us, and no one can rescue us from it," he said, as he began scratching at his arm until blood poured from the scratches. Each scratch he made soon healed, like my wounds have, before he would scratch open another part of his fragile, skin-and-bone body.

"Then, we have to escape from it ourselves," I replied, hoping to pep-talk myself out of this. He stopped scratching and looked at me. The intensity of his stare made me question my logic and the process that led me here.

"Do you see that we are in a cell? We have built it to keep others out, and to keep us safe within. Even so, the pain is here. It lines the walls and sticks to our skin like maggots on a corpse." The walls changed to fit his description. Flat cell walls began to morph with a layer of spikes, and maggots fell from the ceiling. I got up quickly, trying to knock the organisms from my body in disgust while the small masked piece of me sat wallowing in pity and fear.

"You are a rather morbid part of myself," I replied in disgust as the bugs and spikes began to disappear from the cell.

"Who said I am a version of you? We are one and the same. There is no difference between us. You have just cut ties with all of the emotions you don't like, so you could ignore the truth. You even separated yourself from logic, because the ignorance seemed so blissful," he said, in what I couldn't make out whether was disdain or self-pity, as he began to weep again silently.

"I won't just sulk here like you. I am not you. Now give me the key!" I demanded, getting progressively louder with each word before standing above him like an enraged parent.

"No!" he shrieked like an arrogant child.

Grabbing him by the collar, I lifted him up with a threatening look. "Give me the key."

"No. You will not let them in here!" he yelled in defiance, though he did nothing to fight back. It wasn't like he could do anything to stop me if he tried. His body was skin and bones, with little to no muscle left on him.

"Too bad," I said, before throwing him against the wall. When I did, I saw a key clatter to the floor. As I stepped towards it, the corpse-like body of a man lunged forward, grabbed it, and stuffed it into his shirt. From the impact of the wall, his mask was now partially broken on the top right, revealing some of his bloody forehead, which quickly healed back up.

"You can't have it!" he bellowed as fearful tears streamed down his mask, and then curled into a ball. I had forgotten this feeling… this fear. This part of me is so afraid of being tortured by that masked freak, the same as how I felt when I was captured.

"I'm sorry," I said, sliding my back down the wall opposite of him until I had returned to my resting position on the floor as well. "I forgot that you are a part of me, whether I like it or not. We were scared and unable to change our fate. I hate that we're weak, but all we can do to change that is to get stronger."

"Well, you can become stronger without me," he replied with a broken voice.

"No, we cannot get stronger unless we are united. Sela probably knew this. They weren't talking about me destroying myself because of time travel, but because we're so unstable. You need to be a part of me. We can't stay separated forever," I said as if I was pleading with him. I didn't know how else to solve this.

"You can, and will. Now, stop bothering me," he said, before turning away.

"You're a dick," I replied.

"Well, so are you," he countered.

"Touché."

"Are you going to try to take the key from me again?" he asked whilst peeking at me from across the cell.

"Yes, we need to get out of here," I replied with the truth.

'Well, that's too bad," my masked counterpart said with my usual sassy tone. Arguing with him was leaving me fatigued as a result.

"Let me guess. I'm going to have to fight you for it?" I asked with a defeated sigh.

"No, you'll have to kill me for it," he said, before taking the key from under his shirt, lifting up the mask enough to expose his mouth, and swallowing the key whole. I didn't have time to comprehend what he was doing, before the cell echoed with a loud gulp.

"Oh… fuck." There was a mix of shock and confusion on my face. It was as if my entire body froze up without warning, and I began to feel an emotion that I could not identify. Hatred, fear, desperation, disgust, intrigue, natural instinct, this was none of these. Perhaps it was all of them at once. All I knew was that I hated this feeling, and that I may have just lost my last chance at freedom.

 

[Paul_Tromba]

Lou sat on the floor of the apartment in a meditative position. His legs were crossed and his back was straight. The room, however, seemed to be in a more rambunctious state. Elysif and Scott were both circling around Lou like watchful guards, hoping that whatever he was attempting would work, but all it seemed to do was break his concentration. Lou could not be annoyed, though, nor could he be bothered by their watchful eyes, since it wouldn't be logical to. However, he attempted to fake his expressions around certain people, like Elysif, but to no avail.

Elysif assumed that he was sulking or sad because of his demeanor. She was right in a way, but no one could have possibly guessed what was really going on. He wasn't depressed, but the part of him still trapped in that cell was. Elysif tried consoling him as well as giving him space, because although she didn't know that he wasn't the true Lou, she understood what he had just gone through. The cold and logical part of Lou respected Elysif for her understanding. Mainly because it made his act seem natural.

Lou had been attempting to time travel based on the plan the trio had made before. Even as a different piece of himself, Lou had memories of this. Within a few moments of meditating on the 5th of August, Lou began to feel light as he had the last time. His body morphed into looking transparent before quickly disappearing. Scott and Elysif stared in awe at the sight, not just because they were impressed, but because no magic style that they knew of could even come close to replicating it.

Opening his eyes, Lou was in the exact same place within the apartment as he was before. The shades were closed, though, and Scott was laying on the couch asleep. Lou stood up and began lightly slapping Scott's cheek to wake him up. The poor drunk shot up in a panic before looking up at him. "Lou? What in the blazes are you doing waking me up?" he asked with a groaning stutter.

"I'm not Lou. I'm from the past to ask you some questions, remember?" Lou asked with a serious look.

"Huh?" Scott looked up at him with an I'll-be-damned expression. "So I'm guessing you want to know where the murders happen?"

"Yes," Lou replied in a calm but pressing tone.

"You know where Dutfield's Yard is, right off of Berner street? A woman was killed there. Her name is Elizabeth Stride," Scott said with a yawn before looking around for a nearby bottle.

"When was she killed?" Lou asked with an interested expression before picking up one of the bottles and handing it to Scott.

"A little after midnight on the 30th," Scott said with a small stretch and another, much louder, yawn. Though he refused to rub his eyes for fear of keeping himself awake for too long.

"That's only two days after I left," Lou thought aloud.

"I know. There's one other thing you should know," Scott said before pulling the cork out of the rum bottle and drinking some of the contents.

"And what's that?" Lou curiously asked.. If there was something else then something must have gone wrong.

"There was another murder that we failed to prevent. Another woman was killed in Mitre square right after. The victim's name was Catherine Eddowes," Scott said with a depressed sigh.

"We'll find a way to stop both," Lou reaffirmed him with a nod.

"You told us the exact same thing when you came back, and it didn't work," Scott said, shaking his head.

"Do you know why it didn't work?" Logically there had to be something that they could do to prevent it. The more information he had, the better. Though, Lou knowing more information may be a bad thing since it becomes set in stone.

"You lost your senses and began to attack the Changeling after we had captured him." Shaking his head, Scott recalled the incident with a regretful attitude. "You kept demanding he tell you where the masked man was, which eventually allowed him to escape." Scott replied with a pained expression before taking another swig from the bottle.

"Then you'll just have to stop me," Lou replied. It sounded so simple and logical, but probably wasn't either.

"You say that like it was easy," he scoffed with a shake of his head and a yawn.

"Well, I guess I better get going," Lou said, before sitting on the floor in the same position he was in before. Within a few moments of meditating like before, he began to disappear just as he had done before. The lighting changed from a dark and somewhat cold room into a bright and warm, midday room between the closing and opening of his eyes. Scott and Elysif were standing in similar spots as they were before, but they seemed different. As soon as the two realized he was back they burst into tears with laughter.

"What's going on?" he asked befuddled, before looking down to see that he was sitting on around twenty empty rum bottles that had been placed upright in the same spot as he had been before.

"It seems that when you travel through time you can't pass through objects," Elysif giggled humourously.

"And what would have happened if I could? Would I permanently have a rum bottle inside me?" Lou asked, feigning anger along his logical question.

"Well, you would either become part rum bottle or cause an explosion," Scott answered.

"And you really wanted to test this?" Lou asked, questioning the care and sanity of his companions as he did.

""Absolutely,"" they both said in unison.

***


I stood in shock after watching my cellmate lift up his mask a little and swallowing the key whole. My only chance at escape was now resting within his stomach. I couldn't think properly from my mixed emotional confusion, but my body instinctively stood up and marched over to him. My eyes were filled with rage as I grabbed him by the throat. He struggled to break free, hitting me, and gasping for air as I gripped his throat. Slamming him into the wall with all my force, he fell unconscious.

I was going to get that key by any means necessary. He had denied me every other option by swallowing the key. Reaching down to my waist, I pulled out my knife from its sheath. Rolling my unconscious cellmate over onto his back, I jabbed the knife deep into his torso. It didn't matter that he was alive, he was just in my head. His eyes shot open as he suddenly gasped for air.

With my left hand, I held him by his throat to stop him from moving much, while I dragged the knife down. Trying desperately to break free, this weak and terrified part of my psyche jolted and writhed. I didn't have the fortitude to look him in the eyes, so I focused on the wall. Neither at him, nor at the gutting process that I was going and working through. With one rapid cut of the knife, I had finished the large incision and he'd stopped moving completely. Shuddering at the sight, I reached my hand into his torso and began feeling around for the key, but all I felt was the disgustingly warm, muscle feeling of his internal organs. Reaching up towards his lungs, I finally found it. However, rather than cutting it open, I just wrapped my hand around the organ that it was lodged in and pulled with all the force I could muster. As I did so, the me under me raised his torso and stared into my eyes with a hauntingly terrified expression, yelling at the top of his lungs. It was almost as if he was looking right through me, and into the distance towards something uncanny. Letting go of his throat in a panic, his pained screams quickly turned murky and suffocated, almost as if I still were. As his voice died into a silent scream, I ripped my arm from his insides grasping an old bronze skeleton key, covered in blood and other bodily fluids.

Following his gaze, he stared down towards the key, and back at myself. "Why..?" he silently muttered, as I could read in his lips, before his head and body fell backwards towards the cell ground with a thud, his eyes still open and staring far into the abyss above us, until his pupils dilated, making it seem as if he had no irises at all.

My hands shook, dripping with blood as I looked behind me, in an attempt to see whatever it was that he was looking at through me, only to see the locked door. Looking back at the corpse of my cellmate, I could see his cold eyes in shock beneath the mask. The dried blood on his forehead where the mask was broken, and the tear stains on the mask left a haunting after-death image. Squatting next to his corpse, I felt heavy and regretful, but all I could do was try and rationalize my decision, "I'm sorry, but I need to get out of here." As I said this, the body dissipated like water, leaving only the broken mask on the floor.

A sudden rush of strange feelings came over me. All of them made me want to scream and cry at the same time. Are these his feelings? They hurt! Everything hurts! Why does it hurt so much? My body writhed in agony as I crumpled to the ground. It was as if I was experiencing every bit of torture I had over the past three weeks all at once. I howled like no human ever should, unable to stop it and myself. Extending the key to the lock in the door was all I could do in an attempt to stop it, but my body hurt so much. Why was I feeling this? I had thought I couldn't feel pain in the Realm of Stars. I'm afraid.

My hand trembled as I slid the key into the keyhole. Staggering forward, I slowly turned the key, before hearing the click of the locking mechanism. Then, it stopped. The pain was gone, but I knew what it felt like. That feeling of terror and agony would never leave me. After pushing the door open, I fell to the watery pool that was the floor with a thud. However, every part of my body forced me to stand back up when I felt a terrifying sensation radiating from inside the cell behind me. Turning to look at it, I froze at the sight of the masked figure, who had less than a week prior, tortured me. Wielded in his right hand was the same cleaver that he had used to cut me so many times before, dripping with fresh and coagulated blood.

I screamed in fear as I stumbled the rest of the way out the cell, before attempting to slam the door behind me, but he had already charged after me. The masked figure swung the cleaver at my head, stopping me from completely shutting the door and causing me to fall back. He lunged after me as I tried to get up, but he kept swinging the blade around erratically, never reaching his target. All I could do was run in fear. How long could I run for? Did the Realm of Stars even have an end or a place to run to? I didn't know, so I kept running in fear. The speed in which he ran was far greater than my own, especially in my panicked state. Now that I was out of the cell, I realized that I wasn't alone, as Sela was sitting whilst staring at me, with a book in hand and a look of shock on her face.

"How did you get out without defeating your inner demons?" Sela asked, perplexed, as I ran away from the cleaver-wielding maniac behind me.

"Facing my issues head-on has never been my strong suit," I replied sassily before diving towards Sela. Without missing a beat, Sela's eyes turned a glowing red, stopping the masked figure and myself from moving completely.

"You are an idiot! You were supposed to join forces with the broken part of your psyche and defeat what you fear the most together. So how in the hell did this happen?" Sela asked, infuriated, whilst keeping the same perplexed look. It was obvious that the child-like had been set off by my decision.

"Well, the cowardly version of myself swallowed the key! So I killed him and ripped it out of his stomach. Then, I guess he… fused with me. Oh, and that maniac appeared as I opened the door." Sela just blinked, trying to comprehend what I just said, before finally speaking.

"You fucking killed yourself?! And why the fuck did the broken part of your psyche swallow the key?!" Sela asked as if I were stupid. There was no doubt that the deity was pissed.

"... I may have lost my temper," I said, in hindsight, with a click of my tongue.

"Yeah, no shit!" The being bellowed before looking disappointed and annoyed. "Now, I was trying to read a good book before this all happened. I don't want to deal with all this anymore, so I am going to end this right now," Sela replied with a tired expression.

"How?"

"Like this," Sela said with a snap of her fingers, before the masked man was crushed into a ball about the size of a pill by an invisible force. "Now, I guess you'll have to face what you fear the most in the real world, which you will now be completely unprepared for."

"Well, my rational side was separated from me too, so…" I replied, pointing out that it probably could have been avoided had I been able to think rationally.

"Hey! I only separated it from you so you could figure out your emotions and trauma," Sela rationalized with a look of annoyance. We both stood there silently, before Sela realized that I was still frozen in midair and unfroze me.

"So… what now?" I asked, raising myself from atop the watery pool I had fallen onto.

"How the hell should I know? You just killed a part of yourself because you were pissed off, and did your own little thing when I had everything planned out for you; It was going to be great! You were going to deal with your problems and learn a valuable lesson about life," Sela complained. I could tell that I had somehow managed to make this demon-like child more annoyed than they already were, but it's not like they weren't going to take it out on me at some point. Plus, their little tantrum was adorable, to a degree.

"Terrible choice, really. I screw up almost everything that is planned around me," I replied sassily. The only reaction I received for that was a scoff, before Sela turned away from me to pout.

"I think I know how Rag's feels now," Sela mumbled to themself.

"I get that I was terrified of the masked man, still am, but why did you do all of that?" I asked curiously. I figured that as long as I was entertaining, Sela would leave me alone. However, ever since I started getting tortured, Sela has been around near-constantly.

"It was supposed to reveal that under the mask was yourself. You were supposed to have this huge philosophical moment about how you are your own problem and all that... but I guess not," Sela said with a defeated sigh.

"Ha?... I'm too dense for that," I stated as if I were proud of my statement.

"You don't say." Sela rolled her eyes, before rubbing the bridge of their nose in annoyance.

***


Elysif sat against the side of an old brick building on Berner Street. The way she acted made it seem as if she were depressed, but that was not the case. Rather, she was focusing her sight on the area around her, whilst trying to act like a beggar. With Iscariot's help, she had once again created several familiars that were scouting the area. Due to all of the information she had to take in at once, it was beginning to give her a headache just like last time, but still, she kept observing. Suddenly, Elysif opened her eyes.

"I found him. A woman and a man just disappeared into thin air around the corner of the block on the left," she said, before clenching her head in pain and slumping down. The energy it required, as well as the mental fortitude necessary to control the familiars, wore her down to near depletion. Running out of the alley, Lou charged off in the direction that Elysif described as Scott checked on her.

"Go on, Scott. My head hurts too much to run at the moment," Elysif said with a confident smile, as sweat beaded down from her brow. Rubbing her palm against her forehead for emphasis.

"Okay," Scott replied with an understanding nod, before running after Lou. Just as Scott ran around the corner, he saw Lou disappear into a wall of nothing near the street corner. As he did, everything behind the invisible wall started to appear as if it had been there the whole time. The woman whom Elysif had mentioned was on the ground, lying in a pool of her own blood whilst the Changeling, disguised as a casual drunk, was being held by Lou in a chokehold.

"Scott, check her," Lou said.

Scott nodded, as he was already in the process of doing that. Putting as much pressure as he could onto the knife wound, he tried to stop the bleeding, until he realized that she was already dead. "It's too late, she's lost too much blood," he replied with a look of disappointment and regret.

"I see," Lou agreed with a sad look that Scott knew was false. "At least we caught the Changeling, though." he reasoned, gesturing his head at the Changeling which was fighting poorly to get free from Lou's hold.

"Yeah, now let's get him in cuffs before he tries anything," Scott said with a distrustful gaze towards the Changeling, who was currently struggling to breathe. He then grabbed a pair of iron cuffs from his bag.

"Of course—Aggh!" Lou cried out in pain before grabbing his forehead with his free hand. His head began pounding. All Lou could do was shake his head and clench his eyes closed in pain, as the pounding echoed in his skull like a growing expanse within his head.

"What's wrong?" Scott asked with a worried look.

"So that's why he said I lost it… I become whole again," Lou said with a weak and pained voice at the sudden realization of what future Scott had said.

"What are you talking about?" Scott asked, confusion and apprehension plastered on his face, as he put one side of the cuffs onto the Changeling's left hand. When he tried to put the other side of the cuffs on the Changeling's other hand, Lou let go of him, falling to the ground unconscious. The Changeling, seeing his opportunity to escape, attempted to punch Scott with his free hand. However, Scott held onto the other side of the cuffs and dodged, before giving him an uppercut to the chin.

The punch to the chin caused the Changeling to stagger back, gripping his mouth. Before he could gain any sense of direction, he was immediately pulled back in by Scott who had refused to let go of the cuffs. Scott's grip was so strong that blood was dripping from his palm as he reeled him back in and put him in the same choke hold that Lou had him in before. After doing so, Scott looked over at Lou, who had just fallen to the ground clutching his head, and was now slowly standing up.

"Sorry you had to deal with the rational part of myself," I said apologetically.

 

[Paul_Tromba]

(Moments earlier.)

"So, Sela?" I asked with a stereotypically curious tone.

"Yes?" Sela replied, still annoyed, from where they were pouting. To me, it felt as if they had been pouting for twenty minutes. It must have really bothered them that I disrupted their plans.

"Could you, maybe, let me go? I think I have been locked in the Realm of Stars for long enough," I requested in a nonchalant manner. I was pretty sure that wouldn't annoy them.

"I guess you did stay a few days… Fine, you may go," Sela said with a loud groan. Rubbing the back of their head, Sela gave me an even more annoyed expression, though I didn't sense any hostility. Instead, their reply seemed more apologetic, despite Sela's expression.

"Oh, before I forget. Why did you even want to do any of that philosophical bullshit where I have some kind of revelation? All I feel now is depression and pain," I asked in an attempt at some humour. Though, my humour may have missed its mark. I really need to speak with some normal people after this.

"I read it in a book where the hero has to fight himself under the guise of the one they fear the most as a way to promote character growth," Sela replied as if it were an obvious decision.

"I could see how that might work in a book, but again, I'm way too dense for that. And plus, if anyone is the protagonist, it's Scott, or Mordred," I replied as if I were a bit proud of my denseness. Maybe I was a little proud of it; don't ask me why.

"If you say so. Now get out of here," Sela snapped their fingers with a devious smirk. The watery pool making up the floor gave out from beneath me. As usual, I experienced the same falling sensation, before realizing that I was back in my own body. It felt nice, but my body felt heavy. Looking around, I saw that I was in the middle of the city at night. The cold, moist air felt awkward against my skin, and beside me was a woman's corpse.

I was clutching my head as if I were in pain, but there was none, then I started to feel it. Everything that had happened while I was away, came to me like a flurry of lost memories. I couldn't believe that my logical self had managed to travel through time. At the same time, though, I feel like my logical self was judging me, even though we were the same person. I guess I always have been one to loathe my own being, so it wasn't much different than before.

"Lou, I need you to help me get the cuffs on him. Snap out of it," Scott yelled angrily as he held the Changeling still. Finally noticing the Changeling, I drew my knife on instinct. I wanted him dead for handing me over to that masked freak. Three weeks of torture nearly made me go mad. In fact, I probably had gone mad; but right now, I was furious and desired retribution.

"Don't stop me, Scott," I stated with a hateful glare toward the Changeling.

"No, this is not the time to lose it. I get it. I really do, but that can be done later when—" Scott started to say, before I interrupted him with a furious shout.

"When, what?! After we hand him over to the Table? I don't care about him. He isn't the one who needs to suffer. I just want to know where his masked friend is. If I can't find him soon, then I may never find him again," I snapped. All I felt was hatred for this man and his masked compatriot but that didn't mean I was blinded by rage. He knew where he was, or at the very least, knew where he was going. I had no intention of killing this one. That said, the other one was a different story.

"Okay, fine. But only after you help me cuff him," Scott reasoned with an angry spat. The Changeling, desperate for air, flailed about in an attempt to wriggle free. Its appearance shifted bit by bit into various forms in an attempt to expand Scott's grip before shrinking down. Sadly for it, Scott shifted with its changes.

"Fine," I said, putting the knife away and stepping up to him. The Changeling kept attempting to struggle by swinging his free fist at me, despite barely being able to breathe. A swift punch to the gut, however, solved that issue and it was cuffed within a few seconds.

"Now you can ask him," Scott said with a sigh of relief as we set him on the ground against the building.

"Okay." Drawing my knife, I turned to the Changeling and held it out toward its face. "Where is the masked one?"

"I don't know. He said that he was going to help me get some of the ingredients I need to perform another ritual," the Changeling answered fearfully, eyeing the knife in front of his face.

"And what are those ingredients?" I asked with a disturbingly menacing voice. The Changeling shuddered as it backed slowly against the wall to get away from the knife blade. The moonlight glinted off the silvery blade as I slid it closer.

"The same things you have been trying to stop me from collecting," the Changeling answered as if it were obvious. However, the fear he had for what I might do kept him from being too sassy about it.

"So he left to kill another woman for you? Why would he help you do that, though? Wouldn't that attract too much attention?" Scott asked from behind me.

"He wanted to lure you out again…" the Changeling said as he gave me a frightened but calm look. "He was pretty pissed when you disappeared, and was even more pissed when your friends found our hideout."

"So… he still has it in his head that I can bring back his dead friend. I am not a necromancer, I am a time traveler who can't even properly change the past," I said angrily before stabbing him in the shoulder. He screamed as the skin and flesh around the knife sizzled similar to that of meat being cooked in oil. Since it wasn't a vital spot he didn't turn to dust, but it was probably pure torture, like a hot iron that never cooled no matter how long it was pressed.

"Now, you will tell me where he is or I will stab you a second time," I threatened. Scott grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back with a forceful tug. Removing the knife from the Changeling's shoulder as he did, much to its relief.

"What are you doing, Scott?" I asked with a confused and still vengeful tone from the street where I had fallen. Standing up, I strode back toward Scott with a determined swagger.

"You aren't going to torture the thing. We aren't monsters, Lou. We kill monsters, and I will not let you become one of them," Scott replied with a determined glare. He wouldn't back down no matter what I may try. The only things I could see in his eyes were regret and the desire to prevent me from feeling that same regret.

"We need to know where the masked man is so we can stop him," I stated logically. I knew that he was right morally, but if we didn't do anything then I would regret not killing him when I had the chance.

"We already know where he is going to be, Lou. You already told us, remember? This is just an excuse for you to torture this Changeling for what it has done. I know it deserves worse, but that is not how we work. We… you are not a monster," Scott stated as if it was an order. Despite his stern nature, Scott's lips quaked on the last sentence as if he were troubled by saying, "we".

"Then why haven't we sent someone?" I asked. The memories I had were all clammed together so I could barely navigate the memories I was only given a few minutes ago.

"Because I couldn't trust that you can go there without trying to get your revenge. When you were logical, I could trust you to do that, but your logical self told me that you were going to go crazy and attack the Changeling, so I didn't risk it." Scott said, trying to reason with me. It may have seemed safer to leave me behind, but more people were going to die because of it. Whether my actions were for revenge or otherwise did not matter here.

"Then who's going to stop him?" I questioned as I didn't understand why there wasn't someone watching Mitre Square. Just what had Scott and my logical self been thinking with a plan like this? Scott stood his ground, though he let out a regretful sigh before lowering his intensity.

"No one. We just have to take what we can get for now and bring the Changeling in," Scott said as he turned around. He froze for a moment upon turning back to the wall. The Changeling was gone!

"Oh… fuck," I said upon realizing it too. Scott turned back to me wide-eyed. The colour had drained from his face completely as if he had seen a ghost.

"We have to get to mitre square. If we can stop him then we can bring in at least one," Scott said, quickly changing his mind as he began running. I quickly followed him in a sprint.

"Why are we not going after the Changeling?" I asked as I tried to catch up with him. My body was not used to the cardio required for such a run, and I had not been in a real body for who knows how long. so I began wheezing. Sweat began to build up as I ran, warming me up until the cold London wind hit my skin. My coat may have been able to block the wind, but it wasn't very good for keeping warm, especially whilst running.

"Do you know which way he went?" Scott asked rhetorically. He was getting faster as he ran, causing me to fall behind him at an exponential rate.

"Fair point. Elysif, go after the Changeling," I yelled back as we passed by the alley that we had been hiding in before. She was still there, but rather than approving of my statement, she held up her index and middle finger in a V shape (the British equivalent of the middle finger, or "Fuck you") as I ran by.

"She can't, the familiars have put too much strain on her so she doesn't feel well. She'll rest there for a while and possibly make her way home. If she doesn't then we can take her back." Scott said as he had also seen her when running past the alley. Knowing that he had already asked a lot of her, he didn't want to ask any more right now.

"Well, that doesn't help us any. Wait, what if she gets attacked by the Changeling?" I asked with fair concern. By this point, I had only run six blocks but I was already getting tired. Scott, on the other hand, was perfectly fine running at a faster speed than I could possibly manage.

"She'll be fine. Even in a sickly state, she can hold her own," Scott stated as if she were unkillable. Although I didn't doubt it, I was still worried. With how cruel they had been to me, I doubt the Changeling would be any kinder to her. She was also a viable target so I didn't understand how he could not be worried. I bet he had his reasons, though.

"That is true," I agreed right before Scott's body began to glow a faint blue under his clothes, just as it had back in Haringey forest. With a small burst, he sped off ahead of me at an insane speed that could only be followed by the blue light emanating from Scott's body.

Running all the way to Mitre Square, I was unable to catch my breath. Scott, on the other hand, wasn't affected in the slightest despite getting here at an insane speed. In fact, he got to the square so quickly that when I did arrive, he had already searched half of the square for the invisible space. Rather than being found, the masked man emerged from the invisible space only three meters from Scott, as if to greet us. He bowed like we were guests of some regal ball, just to add to his mocking actions. I wanted to stab him, but he was on the other complete side of the square, so that was out of the question. I could try throwing my knife, or I could use my revolver. Was it a good idea to draw either just yet?

"Welcome! I am so glad that you have come to meet me. It makes this so much easier for me," the masked figure said in a mockingly haughty voice. Under the mask, I assumed that he was smiling from ear to ear, but the thought made me even more resentful. Parading around without a care in order to mock us, to show that we weren't a threat. It was humiliating. That didn't matter, though. I would kill him no matter what.

"I would agree. Killing you is going to be so much easier now that you have revealed yourself," I replied in a way that sounded cockier than threatening. He just shifted his vipers gaze toward me as if he questioned whether I had the gall to speak to him in such a way. Though, without missing a beat, the masked figure spoke with a relaxed voice.

"Now, now. I didn't come here to fight. I came to make a deal." There was an unassuming but mischievous aura about him. I couldn't trust it, not willingly at least. Was he still mocking us or was he just desperate to appeal to us?

"What kind of deal?" Scott asked, cautiously. He stood alert on the opposite side of the masked figure with a distrustful look. Scott didn't trust him any more than I did. However, he was a lot more willing to listen than I was at the moment.

"I will hand over myself as well as the Changeling to you, on the condition that you bring back a special person of mine from the past using the Time Lord's power. How does that sound?" The masked figure asked, like some sketchy businessman. However, he seemed genuine. It was ultimately the same request that he had given me. I couldn't do it whether he wanted me to or not. It just wasn't possible.

"And if we don't?" I asked. He wasn't going to listen to reason, not if it wasn't what he wanted to hear. My hand sat resting under my coat flap on the wood grip of my revolver like some kind of quick-draw cowboy. Even if I didn't need to draw it yet, it calmed me down ever so slightly.

"Well…" he said, clasping his hands together as if he was hoping that I wouldn't ask that. "Then I would continue to aid the Changeling in his mission. The Changeling is nothing more than a means to an end for me, so whether I continue to aid him or not is up to you."

"I thought you were the one that was paying him to do it," Scott inquired, trying to understand his motives.

"Haven't you been paying attention at all? I just want one thing, so I came up with this scheme in order to force you to do it," the masked figure asked, mockingly. His demeanor proved that he saw us as beings that were far beneath him. The disturbingly vile nature of his massive ego spilled out with every word he uttered and every bodily expression that he made.

"Sounds a bit over the top just to bring someone back from the dead, don't you think? I mean, you could have just asked us nicely before doing all of this," Scott said as if he now understood everything about the masked figure. Though, he did point out a major flaw in the masked man's plan.

"Your friend had yet to even unlock his abilities. I had become tired of waiting for some opportunity such as this to show itself, so I had to take action," the masked figure said with a disheartened sigh that sounded almost pitiable. Though, his tone gave a hint of malicious intent behind his words.

"Sounds like you're just bad at planning," I said, mocking my old captor before looking at Scott with an intense grin. "Can I kill him now?"

"I don't see why not," Scott replied with a shrug before charging the masked man.

"You do realize that I am going to keep killing people until you say yes, right?" the masked figure asked with a dumbfounded voice, but I had already thrown my knife at him. The blade spun in the air and curved towards his face as it got closer. Whilst the blade was flying between us, I pulled out my pistol from its holster and ran towards him as I aimed. Scott was nearly on top of the masked man, but as my knife got close to him, several blades covered in runes shot out of the ground like a wall. My knife slammed into them and bounced back with a loud clang.

Scott stopped and stared with an increasingly worried expression. I also stopped to stare, in awe, but was able to concentrate enough on my own blade to make it return to my hand. The wall of blades quickly returned to the ground, and the cobblestone they had emerged from looked untouched, as if nothing had just appeared from there. What was that? Magic? The Nordic style runes were similar to the ones on Scott's body, but I had never heard of anything capable of that from Iscariot.

"As you can probably tell, you can't beat me as you are now. So, what will it be? Do you go back and prevent an Elder One from dying, preventing several innocent women from dying to a horrid Changeling? Or you could try option three and fight this Elder One," the masked figure stated calmly, but his threatening aura remained. He did not falter or show any fear of us. Was his mockery earlier just to show how much of a gap there was between us? Even though my body wanted to freeze up in fear, I stood still, refusing to become like the part of my psyche I had killed.

"I already told you it's impossible," I stated with a look that said I was ready to fight. Even though I was terrified and sweat dripped from my brow in anticipation, I showed no sign of backing down. There wasn't an option to back down.

"That may be for the moment, but you will find a way. Or else," the masked figure said with an understanding but still threatening voice. He was completely open. Nothing about him seemed guarded. Even with Scott standing barely a meter away, the masked figure did not care. He wasn't afraid of us in the slightest, unlike us, who were scared shitless.

"Give us a week to figure it out," Scott eventually said, somewhat scared and desperate. As he said this, he was slowly backing away from the masked figure.

"Three days is all I'm going to give you," the masked figure said without giving any room for debate.

"That seems rather cliche," I said. Hoping that he might change his mind given the circumstances.

"If I gave you two any longer than that, you would be able to get reinforcements from the Table, so it would be wise to do it in three days. If you make me wait any longer, I'll have the Changeling go on a rampage," the masked man said with a threatening delivery that was nowhere near the calm and collected tone that he had held himself with before.

"I understand. Three days it is," Scott agreed, indignantly.

"Scott! We can't just do what he says. We have to kill him, now," I averred, trying to reason with him and let us fight him. He didn't seem that strong. Yeah, the blades were cool, but they were probably nothing more than a show.

"No, Lou. If we did that, then we would die within a matter of seconds. That is an Elder One's magic. In other words, we stand no chance. They're semi-immortal beings with powers beyond most, if not all, mortal beings," Scott warned with a serious look in his eyes, telling me not to do anything for fear of our lives. If Scott was this wary of him, then I stood no chance. But my hatred felt too overpowering to just give up.

"Your friend is right. You should listen to your superior," the masked figure said mockingly. His egotistical nature made me grit my teeth in rage as I had nothing to combat it. I didn't truly know how powerful this guy was, so my mind considered the possibilities. Scott may just be playing it safe by avoiding this fight. Even so…

"I can't just let you walk away from this," Scott eyed me again, emphasizing that I needed to calm down and shut up.

"Who said I was walking?" the masked man said smugly before teleporting to God knows where, leaving the deafening sound of a micro explosion where he stood.

"Damn it!" I yelled, before running over to the closest building and kicking it repeatedly while yelling. The racket I caused made some of the people living near the square to yell out their windows angrily but I didn't care. Scott, ignoring the people and myself, fell on his ass like he had just faced death itself. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out his flask and began to chug its contents.

"We are fucked," Scott said with a sigh as he had picked up some of my dialogue habits.

 

[Paul_Tromba]

"So what are we going to do now?" I asked in annoyance. Trudging into the apartment with Elysif on my back, I felt tired and sick at the same time. Behind me, Scott drudged in, shaking his head. Our clothes were slightly damp, our bodies were worn, and we all had a chill from the cold air that wouldn't go away.

"I don't know," he replied before sitting on the couch. Sliding down, the currently pained Elysif got off my back. She slumped onto the empty spot on the couch next to Scott. As soon as I did, she leaned back and held her head with one hand. The other hand was given a bottle of rum by Scott, which she immediately started drinking. Mid-sip, she leaned forward with a coughing fit. Her hoarse coughing fit soon finished, and she drank some more. This continued on repeat for a few minutes.

I, on the other hand, strode over to the woodstove and started to get a fire going. The mixed emotions I was experiencing ate at me as I began stacking tinder under a small tower of kindling. My cold, damp fingers shook as I pulled the matchbox from beside the stove. It was so cold. Not just the apartment, but so were the emotions I was feeling. It all felt cold. Lighting the match, the small flame warmed my fingertip ever so slightly, making my skin feel as if it were cracking whilst lighting the tinder. The flames grew, consuming the kindling with a natural eagerness. Stacking some logs around it and above the flame, I left the wood stove door slightly ajar for the time being, before sitting at the desk.

Noticing that I was done with starting the fire, Scott looked back from the couch at my ragged slouch of a sitting position. "Could you do it if you tried?" We all knew exactly what he was referring to. My time travel ability and whether I could even alter the past.

I was too tired to consider anything properly, but I knew the answer, so there wasn't any point in staying quiet. "No, it is impossible. No matter how good I get at it, I cannot change the past if it affects me," I said with a hopeless slump against my chair. Lazily, I slowly removed my grey overcoat until it was no longer on me, but rather, resting on the chair.

"How does it affect you?" Scott asked curiously. I knew what he was thinking. As with everything, he was trying to figure out if there were any loopholes that could be exploited. He usually did this for market deals, or to get out of trouble with the police, who mostly hated him. It wasn't a bad idea, but I was too tired and emotionally exhausted to discuss this. The only reason I hadn't gone to bed yet was out of my desire to warm myself first. Elysif was probably feeling the same way, but she was too busy dealing with her headache to care.

Looking over at the couch, Elysif was holding out the bottle she had to me. She could tell I could use it too, so I took it, had a few sips, and handed it back. After doing so, I slumped back in the desk chair. Scott took his turn with the bottle, as he stared at the fire, before looking back at me, expecting me to answer his question. Returning to a comfortable position, I answered, "Once he captured me and began torturing me, it affected me. Because the masked figure would have never tortured me if this person that they want me to save hadn't died."

"Okay, then we trick him," Scott replied as if it were easy. He had already explained in detail that we would be dead if we crossed him.

Peering toward Scott in bewilderment and consideration, I lifted my brow and tilted my head back against the wooden chair. I knew he had just explained that we couldn't beat him, but the idea of tricking him sounded nice. Perhaps it could work? "How? As you said, we can't kill him in our current state."

"We find out who he is," Elysif piped in with a pained groan as she rubbed her head. We had already told her to use a potion or some painkillers, but she refused to use them because they were too potent and expensive to use on a simple migraine. However, the way she was acting made it sound like this was more than just a simple migraine. Drinking some more of the rum, she straightened herself as if ready to say something. I watched, eager to hear, but Elysif then stretched her arm with the bottle, and passed it to Scott. Upon him taking it, she slumped back against the armrest of the couch.

"Exactly. If we know which Elder One he is, or which one he is connected to, then we can use that against them," Scott added. I still didn't understand this whole Elder One thing, but I wasn't going to ask and sound stupid, so I just nodded. They would eventually explain it more. I just had to be patient.

"Why don't we have Iscariot help us fight him? Isn't he an incredibly powerful sorcerer?" I asked curiously. Actually, why haven't we asked him to help us already? I assumed they had a reason. All he's done so far is help Elysif make more familiars.

"That would be helpful, but we still need to find out who this Elder One is. Elder Ones each have a distinct capability that is their own. For example, Titania, the Queen of the Fae, created her own dimension that transforms you into a Fae the longer you stay there. Another one is Merlin's ability, which he inherited from his mother, Helen of Troy, which can be used to summon an army of warriors from the earth," Scott explained. Were Elder Ones just gods of old pantheons? Perhaps, but there must have been more to it.

"But do they have weaknesses that we can find within these descriptions?" I asked to keep on the subject.

Scott thought for a second, took a few gulps of the rum, and then passed the bottle to me. "Well, we know of a few. Not all of them have been killed yet, and if they were slain by another Elder One in the war of the gods, then we have no idea if they ever truly existed."

So they were just old pantheon gods, I thought to myself. If that were true, then we were basically fighting a god.

"So, if they were killed by another Elder One, we would have no clue how to kill them," Elysif groaned before sitting upright again. I took my turn with the bottle, before handing it to her. She looked to be feeling better, but she was also bobbing her head slightly. Scott, noticing this, took the bottle from her. Taking another sip for himself, he corked it up and set the bottle on the floor beside the couch.

"Yes, and if one dies, they then pass their ability to someone else, but of a lesser quality," Scott added in agreement. By this point, the fire had begun to roar, so I closed the wood stove's door and let out a disappointed sigh. It was finally starting to warm up, but it felt so cold nonetheless. Scott just sat there, silently, pondering our options, whilst Elysif looked as if she were about to pass out.

With a loud yawn, Elysif began to speak. "So, if we have no clue…" She paused to silently yawn once more, before continuing, "... how the Elder One the masked man is derived from died, then we won't know their weakness?"

"Exactly. Even if we know how to beat them, though, it doesn't mean that we can win," Scott replied with a depressed demeanor. He continued to brood over the issue without moving.

"Basically, we're screwed," I added, before looking up at the ceiling with a sigh.

"Yep," Scott said with a pop from his mouth.

"Well, aren't you two just buckets of sunshine?" Elysif piped back in with a slight drunken slur of a groan. She was right, but we couldn't help but feel down about this whole situation.

Scott turned his head with a matter-of-fact look in his eyes. He knew we were all worn out in more ways than one. However, he was not in the mood for any smartass comments at the moment. "Well, you aren't exactly thrilled about this either," Scott replied.

Elysif gave him a smug look. It was easy to tell that her headache had gone away, or she was too intoxicated to care. With a tipsy mix of happy and smug tones, she replied, "Of course I'm not thrilled. Elder Ones are capable of God knows what, while we have nothing. Though I can at least act like I'm not lamenting life itself."

"I wouldn't say we have nothing," I said with a somewhat hopeful spirit. Personally, there wasn't much hope that I could find, but the thought that maybe we could do this was still barely present. That said, Elysif wasn't wrong about how we were acting. "Let's do a head count here. We have a witch with very little to any fighting experience, a drunk who can only fight at his best for nine minutes tops, a sorcerer capable of sending half the planet into the sun but doesn't because of ethics, and a useless time traveler with a magic flying knife."

"Don't forget you also have a gun," Elysif joked as she tried to push Scott off the couch, though he refused to budge.

"How is the gun going to make any difference?" I asked curiously. Guns were pretty useless against some of the forms of magic that I'd seen. Yeah, they could be used to kill a lot of supernatural beings, but magic was different as it could be used to protect oneself better than any armor of this century. It did infuriate me a tad. Why the hell was it so difficult for me to learn magic anyways?

"It won't, but I didn't want you to forget about it," Elysif said with a smirk. Finding her response humorous, Scott began chuckling to himself before picking the bottle back up from the floor and passing it to her as a show of pride.

Taking a swig from the bottle, Elysif passed it to me with a proud expression. I could tell that she was trying to lighten the mood a bit, and it was working too. Scott seemed to look less stressed because of her, but all I could do was pretend. Drinking some of the bottle, I let out a depressed huff before handing the bottle over to Scott. "So we can't kill him and we can't do what he wants. That only leaves the option of him bringing back a nearly extinct race of dangerous monsters by killing innocent people."

"Well, that isn't an option," Scott said firmly as he took the bottle. Rather than drinking some more, he re-corked the bottle and set it down.

"We could try going to the future again," I offered, having realized that option was still available.

"That might narrow down our next move. What I don't get is that you went to the future already and asked me what was going to happen, so why didn't I say anything about this?" Scott asked with a rub of his chin. The fact that he could fail to inform me about something like this didn't sound like Scott at all, causing him to be concerned for various reasons.

"Maybe you had done something different?" Elysif suggested before taking the rum bottle from the floor, much to Scott's astonishment. However, she had already pulled the cork and was taking a large swig.

"I'm not entirely sure how the whole time travel thing works, so it may be a possibility," Scott said whilst taking the bottle back from Elysif with a judgemental look. She just gave him a proud smile to which he shook his head and re-corked the bottle. "Anyways, you could give it a try. Elysif and I will go to get Iscariot. While we're there we'll need to see if he can get word to the Table in time. Maybe then we'll have a fighting chance?"

"Alright," I said, before holding myself in a meditative position on the chair.

Standing up from the couch, Elysif meandered towards the door directly in front of her. "I'm not going anywhere except my bed. My head still hurts, and I am too tired from all that to be able to do anything but sleep," Elysif spouted with a tired huff as she opened the door, and staggered down the stairs to her apartment.

Scott sat in a state of discomforting bewilderment, before shaking his head. "Okay, I guess I am going to Iscariot's alone, then." Standing up from the couch, he plodded out the door after her. After doing so, he closed the door and all I could hear was the loud thumps of his shoes on the rotting wooden staircase, followed by the creaking of the front door opening and closing.

I had a few moments to focus before dissipating and reforming two weeks in the future. Same place, same spot, different time. I was thinking that I was starting to get the hang of this. This time, no one was in the apartment, just me, in an empty room. Looking around, I searched for something, anything that might indicate that all of us were at least alive. The apartment was as it always was. The creak of the floorboards didn't change. The various knife marks I had been leaving on the wall from knife throwing practice had grown in number, but strangely, there were surprisingly fewer rum bottles on the floor than before. Perhaps we cleaned up a bit?

Among some books on the desk was a note. It was covered in rum stains so I assumed it was Scott who had written it. Though, upon further inspection, I realized that it was my handwriting. It would make sense that I would have written this note for myself in the future. It read:

Dear Me from two weeks ago,

I would like to inform you that we succeed. Sadly, we are not the ones who defeat the Changeling and our captor. The plan we came up with starts with us telling the masked man that we will take him back to a time before the Elder One he wants to save is killed. He agrees, and you stab him in the back before he realizes it's a trap. Elysif gives you and Scott support. Iscariot will help you with trapping the masked man using his magic. As always, nothing goes as planned but somehow we succeed nonetheless. I can't tell you much else since it may alter the timeline just enough to screw us over. This note will still be written no matter what, as you were the one to do it. Good luck, and watch your head.

"Okay, so at least I know we survive and succeed," I said to myself. It took some weight off my chest, but I still didn't understand how this whole thing worked. Since I didn't have anything else that I needed to do, I sat down in the same position that I was in before and focused. My eyes shut as I imagined the room as it was before. When I finally opened them, I was back. The only reason I could tell was that it was all how it had been left before. Nothing was off. Rum bottles were still scattered in a now unsettling amount, and there were fewer knife marks on the wall. Somehow, though, there was more dust than in the future. We definitely cleaned.

Getting up, I meandered over to my room and fell onto my bed. It wasn't all that comfortable, but I had grown used to it, so I fell right asleep. My dreams brought me once again to the Realm of Stars.

 

[Paul_Tromba]

Sela was all sprawled out on what I assumed was a giant bean bag chair. The child-like body was so small in comparison to the bean bag that it was sort of comedic. Like a medieval monarch being painted in an incredibly slouched chair.

"What do you want? Are you here to ruin my fun again?" Sela asked with an annoyed look from their reclined position as they seemed to sink even deeper into the bean bag. Where did Sela even get a bean bag chair? Why did they get a bean bag chair? Is there something I'm missing here?

"Are you still mad that I killed myself?" I asked as if that was a completely normal question, refusing to voice my questions about the chair. There was undoubtedly the desire to ask, but I didn't want to dive down that rabbit hole. Not yet, at least.

"What else would I be mad about?" Sela asked with a frown, before shifting back to the position they had been in before.

"Okay, that's fair, but I came on business," I replied. Sela rolled their eyes before rolling to their side on the bean bag, resting their elbow on it while holding their head, as if pouting. I couldn't tell if this was supposed to be a terrifying god that could kill me at any moment, or a pampered child who just got told no.

"Jeez, you're always so uptight. Even when you joke around it seems almost forced. Lighten up a little," Sela stated with an annoyed groan. Despite saying this to me, Sela still stayed facing away from me in the center of the bean bag.

Seeing this as a chance to poke fun at Sela, I gave a smug look and spoke in the most sarcastic tone I could muster. "So… should I also be sprawled out on a bean bag chair that is nearly triple my size."

Turning toward me, Sela gave me as stern of a look as a child could give, before grabbing the side of the bean bag. With a full body tug, Sela tried to pull the edge of the chair over itself in a way similar to a blanket, but instead, pulled so hard that it flipped the bean bag on top of themselves. I couldn't help but chuckle as I heard muffled curses from under the chair, which wobbled about for a moment before Sela popped their head out from under it like a turtle.

"Anyways, what is your so-called business?" Sela asked. The pint sized deity looked like they were about to break down, but still held firm. Maybe I shouldn't tease the time god?

"I want to know more about time travel and how it works," I asked, refusing to bring attention to the fact that Sela was acting disgustingly adorable.

"Okay, do you have any idea how little that narrows it down? Understanding time travel is basically the same as understanding the universe to a human," Sela stated as if I were stupid. Though that didn't have that much of an effect on me, because the being who said it did so from under an oversized bean bag.

"What happens to my body when I go to a time in which the future me already exists?" I asked. It was on my mind since I had just gone to the future and had yet to even see my future self.

"Well, how do I put it? Your future self is sent here as a sort of limbo state until your past self has returned. Basically, you fall asleep and either you come here or dream normally."

"Okay. why?"

"It makes it easier. Rather than a bunch of time travelers getting stuck in the same time, you can be dispersed and not cause a paradox. However, I know I've told you that you can't go anywhere that your past self already exists but there is an exception," Sela explained before getting out from under the bean bag and resetting the chair to the way it was before.

"And what might that be?" I asked curiously. If there were some kind of loophole, then I was gonna abuse the hell out of it.

"You can go anywhere that your past self is, so long as what you do there doesn't affect you in the future. You may also go to any period in which your past self is here, in the Realm of Stars as you have called it. Although your body is still on earth, your mind is here, so it isn't really affected. Really, any time that your past or future self is asleep," Sela explained further.

The time god's explanation wasn't very helpful, as I was still trying to figure out what I had just been told. "So, if I wanted to do something that would help someone in the past… I can do it, so long as it doesn't affect what I've already done?"

"Yes, basically. It doesn't really matter if you change the past so long as you do the same stuff that you have already done. For example, if I eat an apple but go back in time and do something that would make me not eat the apple, the universe would correct this and I would end up eating the apple either way. Nothing would change. However, if I altered the past so that I ate the apple but at an earlier time, then the universe would have nothing to correct," Sela explained in a way that I could understand. I was still a bit confused but I was starting to understand based on their other explanation.

"I get it. So as long as the events stay the same for the earlier version of myself, then everything else is fair game?" I thought aloud.

"Exactly, but don't try to cheat the system. I have seen too many people try to come up with some workaround and end up facing defeat," Sela warned, as the undersized deity crawled atop the beanbag and tried to get comfortable once again.

"What? Did they just give up their power and go home?" I asked, as I didn't understand how they could give up. Did they just not care enough to keep going, or did they run out of ideas?

"No... they killed themselves, or died from sleepless desperation," Sela answered solemnly. The Realm of Stars was quiet. Neither of us bothered to speak, until Sela sat up from the bean bag chair, "Time is a cruel mistress, bound only by fate, and no one can control her. Those who believe they can bridle it are in for more suffering than you can imagine. It will push them to their limit and break them with no hesitation. So let me ask you. Do you still want this power?"

"..." I couldn't speak. The warning was fair, and I could tell that Sela had spoken from experience. I didn't know what was in store for me, but I had met plenty of people here who counted on me now. The old me was worthless, and was just some random person keeping to themselves. I couldn't help but reply with the only answer I could think of, "Of course. I mean, I still have to sate your boredom, don't I?"

"That's right," Sela grinned, perking up a little. "Well, I guess I better send you back."

"Wait a second. Do you know how I can beat this guy?" I asked before I could lose my chance to ask.

"Since you put me in a good mood, I'll give you a hint. The Elder One's power he has is 'weapon creation' from the Norse Goddess Freya. Use that knowledge wisely," Sela said and with a quick snap. I opened my eyes right before crashing into my bed with a loud thud, nearly bursting through the ropes holding up my mattress. Damn it, I really need to ask that little shit to give me a nicer wake-up. Falling every time isn't fun. From where I lay, I could smell something cooking. However, I couldn't tell what it was. Getting up from my bed, I begrudgingly roamed out of my room to see Iscariot and Scott in the living room discussing some things. Both of them looked tired, but it seemed like they were surprised to see me.

The couch was turned to face the desk where Scott was slouched. Iscariot, who again looked like he was his actual age, rather than his younger self, had taken residency upon the couch with his bare feet warming near the woodstove. Resting atop the woodstove was a pan full of eggs and sausage chunks that I assumed were for breakfast. "So, how did it go? Do we have any chance of getting out alive?" Scott asked with a tired yawn.

With an unconvincing hopeful look I leaned against the backside of the couch. "Yes, but it will be difficult."

"Did you get any more information other than that?" Scott asked as he sat upright, and began scraping the egg pan. Flipping the eggs, he turned back to me, expecting to hear some bad news. Iscariot was also expecting to hear some bad news too. However, he was too busy watching the eggs that Scott had flipped. It was easy to see that he was hungry.

Stepping around the couch, I sat down next to Iscariot. The warmth of the stove felt good compared to the cold wooden floorboards I stood on. "No, all the info was left in a letter by my future self explaining that we only win because we trick him."

Slouching back into his chair, Scott gave me a somewhat satisfied look. "Well, at least we know we can win. The plan I've come up with will entrap the masked man, but only for a moment. We have no idea where we are going to meet him, so the current plan requires me to trade you for the Changeling." I gave him a look of disapproval but he kept explaining without a care. "This way, if the plan fails, I can kill the Changeling and we will not have to worry about him attacking any more people. You'll have to escape on your own, though. I suggest doing it by time traveling."

Feeling a bit left out of the conversation, Iscariot looked up from the eggs to each of us. In his prepubescent old man's voice, he spoke, "So, where do I come in?"

"You and Elysif will be behind us. Elysif will release multiple familiars to guard the area. The familiars, however, will be imbued with your dimensional magic. Since the familiars are invisible to most, she can use them alongside yourself to make a dimensional trap," Scott replied confidently.

"You expect me to trap this person in another dimension along with you, Lou, and the Changeling?" Iscariot asked, understanding, but somewhat befuddled.

"Well, yes. The whole plan hinges on it," Scott said before picking up a random rum bottle and drinking a few sips of the contents.

"It can't be done," Iscariot stated as if he had tried it before. Scott looked bewildered by his answer as he knew very well that trapping people in other dimensions was his specialty.

"But I thought this would be child's play for you?" Scott asked as if to mock him. It was easy to see that Scott was trying to push him into doing what he wanted whether it was possible or not.

"Normally, it would be but you told me that this masked man could teleport. If that is the case then he could just teleport somewhere else and you would be trapped there until I could return you to this dimension. That is, if he doesn't kill me first," Iscariot replied logically.

Thinking about it for a moment, Scott stood up and lifted the frying pan from the woodstove. Setting it on the counter, he made his way back to his chair and sat down. "What do you suggest then?"

"A similar strategy, but one where I use an anti-magic gate around the area. It would be nearly impossible to hold up for too long, but it was able to stop Merlin's Elder magic once before, so it should work on another Elder One," Iscariot replied in a convincing manner.

"But your anti-magic gate doesn't work on sigils or runes, such as the ones on my body. If he were to have a magic item, then he could possibly defeat us," Scott thought aloud as he rubbed his chin. After which, he took another sip of rum before returning to his thoughts.

Iscariot pondered this for a moment. "True, but like you said, it will not affect you. You could take him out before he can use his abilities. Or at the very least, Lou could kill him with one of his weapons," he reasoned before getting up from the couch and stepping over to the pan of eggs and sausage. Reaching into the cabinets above, Iscariot pulled out a plate and served himself some breakfast.

Ignoring the fact that he wasn't considerate enough to offer us some, his idea caused a devilish grin to grow on my face. "Good, a plan that involves me killing that bastard. I like it," I said enthusiastically, before getting up to fix myself some of the eggs and sausage.

Whilst I was scraping some breakfast onto a plate, Elysif opened the door to the apartment wearing a very tired expression and an old nightgown. She gave Scott and Iscariot a look of resentment before giving me a harsher look. Slogging to the couch, she sat down where I had been sitting, leaving me without a chair. Once this was over, we were definitely getting some new furniture, because there were too many people gathered here and not enough seats.

"Why are you so tired?" Scott asked with a curious look that both Iscariot and I shared. Scott and I had thought that she had gone to sleep.

"I tried to take a small nap but couldn't sleep, so I got up and started doing research on different Elder Ones. However, I found nothing of use. Since I couldn't contact the Table, I couldn't get any information from them. I thought about visiting the College, but it was far too early in the morning for that," she said with a dissatisfied huff as she reclined on the couch.

"Okay, though what's with the look and attitude?" I asked as that didn't explain why she had given us resentful looks first thing in the morning.

"I'm a little annoyed because I couldn't find much information. There's also the fact that you all look very well rested compared to myself, and it got on my nerves," Elysif answered sassily.

Scott turned his head towards her with a look of disbelief. Though it was quickly interrupted by a tired yawn. Once he could speak without sounding like a gruff seal, Scott disagreed, "I wouldn't say Iscariot or I are well rested."

"Oh? I know you just stayed in Iscariot's room long enough to show up here within the past hour. It's barely been three hours for you," Elysif said in a matter-of-fact tone, as she crossed her arms and legs. Her haughty expression made this scene look as if she were scolding him for an obvious lie. Whether it was a lie or not was unknown to me.

"How could you possibly know that?" Scott asked, refusing to believe that she could call his bluff.

"I heard you opening the door to the apartment," Elysif said as if he were dumb. Scott looked as if he was about to counter her statement, but realized that he wasn't going to win this one and conceded.

"Oh…" Scott said, before taking a swig of the bottle in his hand. Though there was none of it left, so he just sat it down with a face of disappointment. Iscariot found the whole thing to be hilarious, though, as he was trying not to laugh at Scott for his failed attempt at a lie.

"Elysif, you may not want to hear this now, but I know whose power the masked man has," I said to get the conversation back on track. The entire room shifted to look at me, listening with expectant expressions. Elysif's looked a bit disappointed, as if her pride was a bit hurt. I personally think that she was just disappointed that she did all that extra work when she could have rested.

"Well, whose is it then?" Elysif asked as I hadn't said who it was.

"Sela told me this Elder One is using the Norse goddess', Freya's, power," I said, returning my attention back to the topic at hand.

"I don't believe that's possible," Iscariot butted in.

"And why is that?" Scott asked curiously.

"By all accounts, Freya was a war goddess. Despite being an Elder One, she was said to have been defeated by another Elder One during the age of the gods. She was also recorded to have the ability to control her enemies," Iscariot explained with an intrigued rub of his chin. The wrinkles on his face seemed to flow in the same way as his strokes, as if they were a byproduct of him doing it so often.

"That isn't entirely correct either. No one actually knows her ability, since she was killed before it could be recorded. Even her death is just speculation," Elysif said with an interested expression.

The room was quiet as all of us thought about it. "Well, it won't matter since the ability is called 'weapon creation'. Does anyone know of that ability or how to stop it?" I asked. They each looked back and forth between each other, before looking back at me.

They all answered simultaneously, "No."

"Well, that means Iscariot's plan is the best we've got," I replied with a sigh.

"Agreed," Scott said, before getting up to finally fix himself some of the food he had cooked. Unlike Iscariot and I, he gave the plate he made to Elysif instead of just making it for himself, before eating out of the pan.

Taking the plate with a thankful smile, Elysif realized she didn't know what Scott just agreed to. "What is the plan? I wasn't here for that discussion."

"We trick the masked figure into handing over the Changeling in exchange for myself while you keep him trapped within Iscariot's anti-magic gate or whatever using a bunch of familiars. That way, we can kill him," I summarized quickly.

"Seems simple enough, but I am going to have an even worse headache than the one I had yesterday, aren't I?" Elysif said with an egregious groan. However, she stopped her complaints in order to eat.

"Without a doubt. We'll need you to make battle familiars instead of surveillance familiars, though. Which means you'll need to manifest them properly," Scott said apologetically. However, it almost sounded like he was scolding her for a shoddy job.

"Well, shit. I better get a bonus for this," Elysif said, tired and still somewhat pissed off, before taking another bite of her eggs.

"I can't promise anything," Scott said, looking away to hide the fact that we weren't getting paid anything extra for this. He then lifted the pan to his face, and began shoveling it slowly into his mouth with a fork in order to hide his face.

"I do have a question. How do we even know where to meet this masked vagabond?" Iscariot asked, bringing us back on topic with a very fair point. We had no clue as to where we were supposed to meet them.

Lowering the pan from over his face, Scott chewed the food for a few seconds before loudly gulping it down. However, before he could say anything, his face changed in colour, as he experienced minor heartburn. "We have no clue," Scott answered honestly with a slight grunt from the heartburn that he was forcibly shaking off.

"Then, what do we do? If he shows up here then the building may not survive," Iscariot surmised. The old sorcerer had a point, but that wasn't likely… right? Right?

Just as Iscariot finished his statement, Scott already had an answer. He must have known that someone would have brought this up, so he prepared an answer ahead of time. "If that happens, the Table will have it rebuilt for us and we'll just stay at your place for a while," Scott said quickly with a carefree shrug. Personally, I didn't think that Scott believed what he had just said, but I knew for a fact that he didn't want us to think about it.

"Don't simply invite yourself into my home," Iscariot snapped in response. Elysif gave him a judgmental look, seeing how he had plenty of space to spare. She also didn't like the idea of her stuff being destroyed, but rather than ask Scott about it, she looked like she was planning where to store it.

"But… I already have," Scott said back with a smug grin in an attempt to poke fun at the scratchy-voiced sorcerer.

"Bloody shit stain, you are," Iscariot grumbled angrily under his breath, before eating the last of the sausage on his plate. After swallowing it, he just sat there with a begrudging look whilst muttering angrily.

Everyone, except for Iscariot, who was muttering under his breath, was quiet. The room felt cold and depressing despite the warmth of the wood stove. We all felt it too. The pressure of it all, mixed with the foreboding nature of our dilemma ate at each of us differently.

"So, what now?" I asked.

"We wait, for now. Maybe get your affairs in order, and if you don't have a will… well, I suggest you write one," Scott said with a somber look. With the Willowisps, we knew there was a chance of victory. We knew what we were dealing with. Unlike now, where there's so much uncertainty in our enemy. The fact that we could all very well die was setting in more and more. Revenge had been my major objective till last night, and now... now I wasn't so sure.

 

[Paul_Tromba]

Sir Michael

 

[Paul_Tromba]

Three days had nearly passed since we saw the masked man, or even heard of anyone being murdered. Even with our strategic planning, we were still lacking a fair bit of information, so we were as prepared as we could be… which was... to put it in one word, poorly. Scott seemed to have a slight hangover, so he hobbled back to bed while I strangely had my best sleep in weeks. My personal belief is that this rest only came from the fact that Sela did not appear in my dream last night. However, I didn't get any of my additional questions answered because of this. Iscariot had left late last night for his home in order to gather some tools for himself. I was a bit concerned since he had yet to return, but he could be taking longer because of the time displacement in his home so that alleviated some of my worries.

Waiting for my kidnapper to give us some kind of sign for where to meet was driving me crazy. We had no idea where we were supposed to meet the masked man and it would soon be time. The thought that my kidnapper might bail was on my mind, but it didn't seem logical since he couldn't trap me again and he needed my compliance.

As I was eating some breakfast, there was a knock at the door. Getting up in a rush, I accidentally spilled my food on the floor whilst trying to get to the door. To my surprise, when I opened it, I was met with a young paper boy dressed in soot-covered coveralls. However, the boy was equally as surprised to see me in nothing but my skivvies and unbuttoned coat.

"I have a letter for you," the boy said awkwardly before handing it to me.

"Who gave it to you?" I asked as I took the letter. Looking it over, there was no sender or address, just a flat slab of wax sealing it.

The boy cocked his head to the side and bit his dirty lip as he tried to think. The expression on his face shifted a bit, as he couldn't recall anything about the man for some reason. Though the boy recalled a few details, "Some old crone with a mask," the boy replied in an attempt at sounding like he didn't forget.

Tossing the kid a penny, I slammed the door and ripped open the letter, whilst ignoring the inappropriate remarks the boy made on the other side. Written in red ink… or perhaps blood, was the meeting place and a threat. I didn't think this guy was one for aesthetics but to each their own. The letter read:

Meet at the bridge near Mitre square at 11:00 PM. If you fail or refuse to comply, then I will kill everyone related to the time traveler.

Charging over to Scott's door, I banged on it a few times. After a good thirty seconds, he opened it, showing me his tired face of death. He looked like shit, however, he looked to be a bit more concerned with the reason for my knocking than usual. With a slow and tired gaze, he looked more confused than anything, as he asked, "What?"

I held the letter out to him so that he could read it. However, he just gave me a look of expectation without reading the note. "I just got a letter with the meeting place," I said, ignoring the fact that he hadn't read the note at all.

"What time?" he groaned, before letting out a yawn.

Without a look of consideration, Scott looked like he hadn't a care in the world. "An hour before midnight," I answered with a serious tone.

"Alright, then I'm going to finish sleeping off this hangover. You can go get Iscariot sometime around eight. Until then, do whatever ya feel like," Scott said with a tired grumble.

"Are you worried at all?" I asked as I could tell that he didn't seem to care.

Giving me a questioning look as he swayed against the door frame, part of me felt as if he was about to vomit. However, he instead slurred his words slightly as he answered me in a fairly sarcastic voice, "The only thing I can worry about right now is this pounding headache, so no."

"Sorry. Sucks to be you," I replied with a monotone chuckle as he didn't care about anything at the moment.

"Ain't that the truth," he said with a humoured snort before I shut the door. Part of me felt bad about my response, but another part of me felt that he knew it all too well.

Deciding that the others needed to know, I bolted downstairs to Elysif's apartment and knocked on her door in the same fashion that I did to Scott's. A few moments later, she opened the door wearing her nightgown and holding a lit candle as if it were the middle of the night. The light that enveloped her upon opening the door caused her to rub her eyes in the same fashion that anyone who had just woken up would… Only her expression gave off the desire to return to bed immediately.

"What is it? Do we need to go to our deaths now?" she asked with a serious look that was interrupted by a shallow yawn. Her hair, which she usually kept up, was down and in a mess, resting upon her shoulders. Several cowlicks, which she had yet to notice, stuck out at random, like Medusa's hair.

"No, but I now know the date and times of our possible demise," I answered with a joking look. However, it didn't seem like she enjoyed my dark joke as she gave me a begrudging look of annoyance whilst listening to my answer.

However, she gave me a questionable look, before asking, "What time?" Her question hung in the air as if it were impossible to answer despite knowing it.

"An hour before midnight, tonight," I eventually replied just as I had told Scott before.

She squinted her eyes at me as if judging me. "Why did you wake me up, then?" she asked indignantly. It was nearly nine, so I had assumed that she would have been up, but it seemed that Scott's bad habits had rubbed off on her. To those viewing us, it may feel it was customary for people within this building to stay up late talking, before sleeping till midday. This is not the case. For myself, it had just become a common activity to pass time.

"I just thought you would want to know," I replied with a quaint smile.

She shook her head out of disappointment before yawning once more. "I would have rather you not. Please, only wake me up an hour before we need to leave," she requested as if it was common knowledge that she didn't want to be woken up. Although, now that I think about it… it might have been, at least for today.

"I'll wake you for lunch," I replied as she shut the door. As soon as the door had shut there was silence before she replied with a tired "Thank you, please do," from behind the door.

Turning around, I'd begun to return upstairs, when I saw Iscariot toddling through the door of the building with a large stack of boxes, or at least trying to. He was dropping stuff, and couldn't seem to get through the door because the items he was carrying were large and awkward. The monstrous pile of various items that he held painfully on his person looked as though they were about to fall. How did he manage to carry all of it here by himself? It didn't matter, because he was on the verge of dropping them all.

Turning towards him, I tried to figure out what the stuff was, but most of it was boxes of tools and old books. There were a few items that I didn't recognize, like a kettle with a stem on either side and a weird bottle full of what looked like galaxy putty. "Would you like some help?"

"Oh, Mr. Barrett. That would be wonderful," Iscariot replied in his usual squeaky voice as he dropped a box that made a sound like breaking glass. Under his breath, he cursed at the box before returning to his task of getting in the door. Taking several of the items from him so that he could then slip through the door, we slowly made our way upstairs. However, it took even longer because Iscariot kept having to stop and rest every few steps.

"What is all this stuff?" I asked as I set the last of the items that I had carried up here down on the floor of the apartment.

Upon setting down the stack of items that I was pretty sure he didn't actually carry here, Iscariot plopped himself down on the couch with a satisfied breath. He looked worn out to a regular person, but I've slowly noticed that this was faked compared to when he is truly tired. "Tools to help me make the anti-magic gate. I would have done it at home, but time flies there, as you can guess," he answered with a tired breath.

"What is this anti-magic gate, anyways?" I asked as I looked over the various tools he had brought. Many of them looked more like a drug dealer's stash than magic items, especially some of the glassware.

With his usual squeaky voice, he began to explain in simple terms. Though his voice made it difficult to listen to. "It allows me to temporarily stop the use of any magic so long as it has no sigils. Your knife would work just fine within it. However, if you were to attempt to manifest a magic flame then it would go out, or couldn't even be conjured in the first place."

"I see. Can anyone use this gate?" I asked as I plopped myself down beside him on the couch. Upon doing so, he gave me a look of aghast as if I had offended him by sitting next to him. However, he just clicked his tongue before answering my question as if nothing had happened. Nothing had happened, though, so I don't know why he acted this way.

"Well, yes. However, I am one of a few people that know how to make one, and it's a one-time use tool that breaks down faster the longer it is used for that once. The longest one can stay active is ten minutes," Iscariot answered as he lifted one of Scott's rum bottles from beside the couch, smelled the contents, made a disgusted look, and then put it back down before getting up to raid our pantry.

"Seems like that would be very helpful to the Table. Why don't they make them mainstream?" I asked curiously, ignoring the fact that he was taking out our mildly expensive dried sausage. Cutting himself a few slices of the dried meat, he put the rest back and plopped himself next to me once again.

"They would. However, crafting one takes so long that they would have to create an entire faction of the Table just to make them en masse. That would require a massive amount of funds, which the Table lacks," Iscariot said with an appealing smile, before passing me one of the slices of sausage. It was obviously a bribe since Scott would throw a fit if he knew that we were eating his fancy sausage. However, I couldn't deny his offer, as I had spilled my breakfast on the floor earlier. In fact, I hadn't cleaned it up, so I was pretty sure that my breakfast was currently underneath Iscariot's tools.

"When we visited the Table, they seemed fairly well off," I noted. He stopped chewing the sausage in his mouth and thought for a moment. With a loud gulp, he swallowed the piece of sausage he had chewed and turned to me.

"You would think that, as they have to keep up appearances. The Table has very few supporters during this age, and one of them is Mama Louise. Other than the fact that she is almost as terrifying as Mordred, she is also very wealthy and influential. Keeping her on good terms with the Table keeps a lot of us, including Scott, afloat," Iscariot explained with a serious look, before putting another slice of sausage in his mouth… And no, he did not chew with his mouth closed.

"Then how are we even getting paid?" I asked curiously, trying to ignore the fact that he had just spit sausage all over my lap and the floor. We weren't getting paid a lot, but we were getting enough to get by.

He thought for a few seconds, caressing his disturbingly shiny chin. Though, after realizing that some of the sausage grease had dripped onto his chin, I felt stupid for pointing it out. "I think there have been some budget cuts to some of the departments. One of which is the South American branch. I believe I heard from Scott that Compton became the director of that branch."

"You heard correctly," I stated before he handed me another slice of sausage as if it were a treat for answering.

"Well, he has his work cut out for him. The South American branch is currently the smallest of the branches, since it was just recently founded. On top of that, it only has seven agents currently working there. Since the South American people aren't too thrilled with some Europeans coming to their home, they have started making deals with different creatures that we have never even seen before to force the Table's agents to leave," Iscariot explained. His tone expressed that he was sorry for Compton. I expected that it may be a hard job, but Compton seemed excited about the job when it was announced. Did he not know what he was getting into?

"Sounds like it would be one of the most dangerous departments to be at right now."

Iscariot let out a light chuckle from my apparent understatement, before answering, "Oh, it is; and it doesn't help that their budget just got cut. Compton may be the Director of that branch now, but everything in the Agency is decided by a vote between the directors, with the Consuls having the final say. Director Langston and the Consuls have his back, but many of the other directors want him out due to his age. They have decided among themselves that he is unfit to be a director, because they think he is too young and lacks management skills. Compton got stuck with the hardest task of keeping South America in check. Sadly, many of the directors think this will be a prime way to make him look bad."

"It does seem like everything is stacked against him," I replied with a solemn look. I didn't know that so many people had it out for him. As I finished speaking, a gust of wind blew through the street outside, causing the widow shutters to slap against the side of the brick building loudly. Following the slaps from outside, we could both hear a faint groaning coming either from Scott's room or Elysif's apartment. The walls here are like cardboard, after all.

Ignoring the groaning, and with a pitying look, Iscariot let out a deep sigh, similar to a parent lamenting sending their child to war. "He has very little chance of staying in that position for long if the directors have their way. He's a smart lad with way too much experience for his age. He, and Scott. I know Mordred chose him for a specific reason, and I can assume it was a good one. Mordred has a good head on her shoulders. As for Merlin… he's a genius. When it comes to understanding people, however, he is an absolute buffoon."

"You think so?" I asked as both Merlin and Mordred were incredibly laid back each time I saw them.

He looked as if he didn't like me questioning him, however, decided to answer anyway with a spiteful tone that was strangely normal-sounding compared to his usual voice. "I know so. Merlin has always left matters involving people to Mordred while he, on the other hand, has handled the tactical decisions. Any time he has handled things with people, he has tended to scare them off. Especially women. Though I sometimes believe it may be an act; and that he understands people more than he lets on."

"I'm not surprised by him scaring them. How does Mordred deal with his behavior?" I asked as it seems like that would be a burden on negotiations and gaining allies.

"He was her father's best friend, and she saw that throughout her time as a knight. She respects him endlessly for that, seeing him as someone who truly cares for her, and someone who can always be relied upon," Iscariot explained as if he were reminiscing a part of his own past. On only a few occasions had I spoken to Iscariot alone, and this was the first time that he sounded sorrowful.

Not being able to piece together a single question to further this conversation, I simply agreed, "That does make sense." There was a moment of silence that felt appropriate, as neither of us had anything to add. Out of seemingly nowhere, though, a smile began to creep up on Iscariot's face.

"Now… there is the rumour that Merlin and Mordred once considered romantic relations at one point, since they were both immortal, but again, that is just a rumour. Don't tell anyone that I told you. Mordred may request my head," Iscariot said in a somewhat joking tone. Despite sounding like a joke, he seemed to be serious at the same time, which made me question it even more.

"I won't tell a soul," I answered with a chuckle.

 

[Paul_Tromba]

Around two hours till midnight, we arrived at Mitre square so we could prepare ourselves. As we had planned, Elysif was sitting on the top of a nearby building with a good view of the area, ready to summon her familiars from a safe distance. Iscariot, on the other hand, stood behind us ready to activate the anti-magic gate. To most, he looked like an observer, so it wasn't bad to have him there. Pulling out his pocket watch, Scott opened it just in time to see it strike eleven. The moment it did, we began to hear two sets of footsteps approaching from the other side of the bridge.

From out of a fog-covered back alley, the masked figure stepped with a determined stride whilst the Changeling unhappily hobbled behind him. Much to our surprise, the Changeling was bound with a rope that the masked man held with little concern. Looking at the Changeling, its shoulder still looked bloody and possibly infected from where I had stabbed him. Like before, the Changeling looked like the same sleazy dude, however, there were various bruises and new wounds all over its body. The Changeling's hands had also been bound in rope and a gag had been stuffed in its mouth. Despite its bindings, the Changeling was snarling at the masked man with rage in his eyes. Much to its dismay, it couldn't seem to get any closer than a meter from him. It was as if some invisible barrier was blocking it from doing so.

Stopping at the edge of the bridge, the masked man stood with a smug stature. His rune-decorated robe waved in the fairly brisk breeze, revealing the plain dirtied work clothes beneath it. Clasping his hands in front of his waist, he began to speak with satisfied vigor, "I see that you aren't late."

Stepping over to the bridge ourselves, Scott and I stopped at the other side of it. Behind us, Iscariot stood eagerly, waiting to activate the Anti-magic gate. Although we couldn't see her, we knew Elysif was ready to assist us from above. "Of course not, we are men of our word," Scott replied with a serious tone so rare for him to use that I became a bit more worried than I already was.

"Then why bring that old man? Did you think he would be of any use to you?" the masked figure asked with a faint chuckle, as he pointed at Iscariot. From behind us, we could hear Iscariot chuckling at that slightly. Thankfully, neither the masked man nor the Changeling heard him.

With a faint click of his lips, Scott looked back at Iscariot, who waved as if he were enjoying himself, then back at the masked figure with a disputing sigh. "Call it insurance in case you don't want to follow through."

Trying not to make it seem like we weren't about to try fighting him, Scott stood in a less defensive way. "At least you're not stupid. Send over Barrett," the masked figure said with a wave of his hand. However, Scott did not comply, nor did I. The masked figure tilted his head in confusion.

"The Changeling first," Scott said with an unyielding look. Strangely, the masked man pulled his hand across his chest and gave a slight bow in agreeance. Whether we were bargaining or not, we weren't gonna complain about him giving in to our request. As he was bowing, I noticed a slight glimmer from the moonlight of a small bird-like creature stooping atop a building. The creature in question, upon closer inspection, was one of Elysif's familiars. A semi-invisible bird that stood around seventy centimeters tall.

"Of course," he replied, before he dropped the rope that held the Changeling. Looking a bit confused at first, the Changeling quickly realized that the only way out of this alive, was to go with us, and began to hobble across the bridge. As the Changeling reached the center of the bridge, the masked figure gave a quick snap of his fingers. Upon hearing the snap echo between the buildings, the cobblestone below the Changeling shifted slightly and a blade shot out. With a loud squelching sound, it pierced him between the legs, protruding out through his neck like a pike. Stepping back in shock, we watched as the Changeling's body turned to ashen dust and the blade returned to the stone.

Iscariot didn't seem to care that the Changeling had just been killed without warning. In fact, he seemed to be amused by the display. With a curious but unsurprised look, Scott shook his head. "I thought you said he would be handed over to us?" Scott asked the masked man.

"Yes, but I never said in what form. You can pick up the remains when we are done if you so wish," the masked figure replied with a crass hiss that seemed like it was meant to agitate us. However, neither Scott nor Iscariot seemed to be bothered by his comments. I, however, wanted egregiously to kill him that biting my own tongue was the only way I could stay calm. Elysif seemed to still be watching us with the familiar, but it seemed to be cocking its head like it was worried for us.

"Fine," Scott said, motioning for me to cross the bridge. Trying as hard as I could to remain calm and casual, I made it past the middle of the bridge. However, I couldn't help but scowl at the masked man, who in turn, just glared back at me through the mask's eyeholes. I think he was scowling back, but I couldn't see the rest of his face through the mask. Stepping within half a meter of the masked figure, I heard Iscariot begin a chant under his breath. It was faint but I could still make out the tone changes in his hushed breathing.

Without any warning, I grabbed the masked man's wrist who, in turn, stared at me in shock. Pulling out my knife in a hate-filled rage, I attempted to ram the knife into his throat. Had I waited to do so, then I may have won, but because I struck so early, a blade shot out of the cobblestone below me. Because Iscariot was still forming the gate under us, the masked man could still use magic. I attempted to jump back but there was barely any time, as the blade severed my left arm completely off. With a pained look, I stood holding my shoulder whilst my arm fell onto the cobblestone bridge. Blood dripped from the wound onto the stone like a gelatinous waterfall, before it eventually reformed the bone, flesh, tendons, and skin.

"That's it! I'm killing the lot of you," the masked man bellowed with violent discontent as several more blades erupted from the cobblestone below me. Barely dodging the longsword-like blades with several hops backward, I received a few minor cuts across my body, whilst my arm finished growing back. From behind me, Scott charged at him with thunderous speed to both back me up and to keep the masked man busy long enough for Iscariot to finish his chant. The masked man, however, saw Scott and a wall of blades burst forth to protect himself like a wall of sharp iron.

The metal wall gleamed in the moonlight, covering the entire left side of his body as a stationary shield. With his right side exposed, Elysif's familiar kamikaze bombed the masked man's head, exploding into a ball of blue flames. Unfortunately, that didn't phase him in the slightest, it did keep him still long enough for Scott to shoot around to his right side. Without a second to think about it, the masked man conjured another wall of blades around his right side. Smashing through not one, but two layers of metal with a barrage of heavy blows, Scott jumped back in pain. The third layer had been angled, cutting his knuckles despite the protection from his gloves, this allowed the masked man to refocus some of his efforts back on me.

Dodging more of the masked man's blades, I drew my gun whilst running away from him. Cocking the revolver's hammer, I aimed it between the shields that were appearing and disappearing based on Scott's attacks. Seeing that the masked figure was no longer focused on me, Scott dodged to the side to give me a clear shot. As my finger applied pressure to the trigger, Iscariot finished his chant. From the center of the bridge, a red light emitted, covering everything, including the water flowing below, with the same red hue in the shape of hundreds, possibly thousands of runes. The light expanded to cover the entire block, before fading, burning the runes into everything the light had touched. Even the water had unmovable char-coloured runes above it, as if it had made an invisible barrier over the flowing river.

At the edge of where the light had reached, several of Elysif's familiars appeared. However, rather than birds, each one was shaped like a knight, but they all had a strange bluish tint to them with a stature of roughly three meters. With ethereal halberts, they guarded every point of escape at Elysif's command. Having finished the gate, Iscariot sat down on the cobbled alley and focused solely on keeping the gate active. Each blade that had been erected from the cobblestone returned to the ground in the wake of the anti-magic gate, causing the masked figure to retreat away from both Scott and me.

Holding out his arms on both sides, the masked man stood with an overtly confident aura, making both Scott and I pause out of caution. "You had a good plan. It was far superior to most, but what you didn't account for, was that I had prepared for such events to unfold." Elysif, who was just beyond the gate, watched through the eyes of her familiars from the gate's edge. They were sadly unable to enter. Though, like Iscariot's job was to keep the gate up at all costs, Elysif's job was to keep the masked man from going beyond the gate.

Despite the overbearing show of superiority that the masked man gave, Scott lept towards him with the same incredible speed as before, punching the man's mask. The force of which resulted in a loud shockwave, forcing a plume of dust to be freed from between the cobblestones. As the dust was settling, Scott and I both stared in disbelief. The masked figure had caught his fist without any physical repercussions. Scott attempted to punch him with his free hand, while I fired two of my five bullets at the masked man's back. Like before, he caught Scott's fist with his other hand, and a shockwave was sent through the area with a wave of dust before I could see if the bullets did any damage. Hell, because of the smoke, I couldn't see either Scott or the masked man.

Within the cloud of dust, Scott inhaled some of it, causing him to have a coughing fit. However, he did not dare to close his eyes, as the masked man was still holding his fists. Without warning, the masked man pulled himself close to Scott. "You may have enhanced your body with runes, but I have plenty of runed items. You could say I have equal power to yourself," the masked figure said softly into Scott's ear before kicking him in the stomach hard enough to send him flying out of the dust cloud.

As soon as I saw Scott tumbling backward out of the cloud of dust, I fired the last three bullets from my gun. One after the other, each bullet penetrated the dust cloud, but as it cleared, I realized that they had no effect on him at all. Two of the bullets landed on the cobblestone by his feet, and the man didn't look phased at all. Looking at me, he began marching towards me with a threatening stride. I attempted to fire another shot out of disbelief, only to hear a click from the hammer hitting an empty chamber. Before I could run away or try to fire the empty gun, he was already in front of me, grabbing the barrel and ripping it out of my hands. Beyond him, I could see Scott lying unconscious at the edge of the bridge. Iscariot sat with his eyes closed, focusing on maintaining the gate instead of noticing us losing, whilst Elysif's familiars shuffled around, eager to fight, but stuck beyond the gate.

With everything I had, I tried to stab him with a right jab. Upon hitting him, the knife was knocked from my hand and the masked figure clenched his hand around my throat. As his hand choked me, an invisible force slammed into my throat from his palm. The breath I had was knocked out of me as I barely stayed conscious. Unable to fight him in this state, the masked man lifted me up by my neck until my feet couldn't touch the ground.

"You can't hurt me, time traveler. I had planned on beating you with my power alone, but you forced me to use one of my trump cards right from the start. I can absorb physical attacks as power, and then release it at any point through any means that I wish. When I kicked your friend, I released the force of his punches back at him. Now, be grateful that only two of your bullets hit. It will make the old man's death a little more painless," the masked man said with an amused sense of rage, before throwing me against the bridge wall like a ragdoll. As my limp body folded over the side of the bridge, I released my dinner into the water below. I could barely lift my head, let alone fight anymore, despite my collapsed windpipe being healed by this point. Even though I had a hard time feeling pain, my body had been worn out, so I just hung over the side of the bridge, barely conscious.

Realizing that I wasn't going to be moving for a bit, the masked man turned to Iscariot. "Well, I guess I better deal with this barrier," he muttered under his breath. With Iscariot too busy chanting in order to keep up the barrier to notice, and Scott out of commission, he strolled across the bridge toward him. Though, as he passed by Scott's body, the masked figure was stopped by a hand grabbing his ankle. Looking down, he saw that Scott had a firm grip on him, despite the rest of Scott's body being limp, like some kind of last-ditch effort of strength that was greatly hindered by internal bleeding and broken bones.

"I see that you're still conscious. You must be in so much pain, and yet, you bear it so well," the masked man said with condescending praise, before kicking away his hand. "However, I don't need you alive, do I?"

As he finished speaking, an explosion of gaseous fumes covered both the masked man and Scott. The masked man coughed and wheezed, grabbing his throat as he ran out of the smoke in a stupor of coughing fits, whilst Scott painfully dragged his way out of the smoke with a cloth covering his mouth and nose.

Once he had crawled his way out from under the rising smoke, Scott began to painfully chuckle through a coughing fit. Looking at the masked man who was currently hunched over uncontrollably coughing himself hoarse. "You may be immune to our attacks on… the outside—" Scott stopped, coughing before continuing his sentence. "—but what about on the inside?"

Taken aback and rather confused by the effect such a tactic had on him, the masked man looked at Scott with cursing bloodshot eyes. "W—what was that?" he asked the moment his lungs gave him the slightest break. Quickly returning to his convulsive barking after asking.

"A toxic smoke bomb that Elysif made for me. It burns the lungs of anyone who inhales it. I have plenty to spare, so I hope your lungs are ready," Scott answered sadistically, as if he were a child tormenting ants. The smug grin Scott gave despite his pained look enraged the masked man, who could do nothing but attempt to expel the toxin from his lungs.

Clutching his chest, the masked man held himself afoot only by a fleeting narcissistic pride, as he looked at Scott's broken body. With gnashed teeth and between breaths, he spoke hatefully to Scott, "You… are an absolute… pain," the masked man spat, before running over the bridge towards one of the alleys that one of Elysif's familiars was guarding. With a bewildered look, Scott watched from where he lay as he realized that the masked man decided to run away rather than continue to fight, despite having such an advantage. As he rushed past my limp body, I shot up and latched my body onto him like a human octopus.

Surprised by my sudden revival and entrapment, he yelled out angrily between coughs. More annoyed than anything, the masked man yelled out as he tried worming his way out. "What in the blithering hell?! I thought you were unconscious!"

"I almost was, but remember that you tortured me so much that pain means nothing to me. I was just resting while waiting for you to take your eyes off me," I replied with a smug grin. From my pocket, I pulled the pin on one of Elysif's smoke bombs. With loud cries of pain between violent coughs, the masked man inhaled the smoke that rapidly filled the area around us. I too was coughing horridly from this, but wasn't that concerned considering my healing. Actually, could my body heal toxin damage? Oh shit!

"Why, you little," he coughed out before slamming his elbow into my face. The impact had no additional force behind it, but it was just hard enough to knock me off him. With a near-Scott-level speed, the masked figure spun around to face me before breaking my jaw with an enforced blow. As I was falling to the ground, Scott, covered in bruises and blood, charged at the masked man, punching him as hard as he could in the chin. Scott looked broken and beaten without remorse, to the point that he couldn't actually tolerate the pain. Despite this, he wore a twisted smile that bore the joy he had in doing what he was meant to.

The masked figure didn't flinch in the slightest. In fact, he seemed confused and enraged by our repetitive annoyances. The sheer stupidity that he believed we had, based solely on our desperate style of fighting. "You already tried that, and it didn't work. What difference is it going to make now? Are you enough of a dunce to try the same attack, time after time, in hopes of a different result?"

Whilst standing back up, I watched as Scott pulled his fist back from the man's face. With a heavy step back, he stood there like a tired boxer after the bells rang in the last round. The fact that he was in so much pain that he could barely stay conscious was reflected on his face, dripping blood from his nose, lips, and right ear. Yet, he still bore the same smug grin as if to mock the masked man in his last breath. "No… I just needed you... to stay still long enough."

We could do nothing but stand there as he scoffed at the two of us before bursting into maniacal laughter. His body contorted back as if trying to view the moon overhead. "What for? This barrier stops magic other than that of runes, so what other than that gas could hurt me?" he mocked between his laughter.

Looking at me, Scott nodded, to which I nodded back. Reaching into my coat pocket, I held onto one of Elysif's gas bombs, and the biggest smile Scott could produce grew. "The Dimensional Demon Sorcerer," Scott replied with a mix of disdain and joy. The laughter stopped and the masked man contorted his body back to face Scott, his back cracking and popping as he did.

"What?" he asked threateningly, before an ethereal arrow pierced through his leg from the cobblestone below, making him fall to the ground. "The old man…" Looking at Iscariot, he snorted hatefully. "I thought he was maintaining the barrier. Perhaps I underestimated how powerful a foe he is," he said under his breath as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.

More and more ethereal arrows impaled the masked figure. Each time, they caused him to flinch in a similar manner to when a nerve is being electrocuted. Scott and I both looked with thankful, yet tired eyes upon the masked figure as he crouched down in agony, crying, unable to defend himself. "This barrier, as well as your coat, only affects one plane of existence. But we can still use whatever tactics we need to on another plane," Scott said with a chuckle, before stepping toward our ensnared enemy.

Grabbing the masked man's coat, Scott began to undo the fastener bound in a hilariously over-tied knot. A ways back, I watched him closely with the smoke bomb in hand. Whilst I examined the masked man, I watched as the arrows pierced his body, leaving no sign that they had actually penetrated him. His cries were somber and frequent, like a madman experiencing all five stages of grief, gasping for minuscule amounts of air. No… it was not weeping that I heard, but a faint chuckle.

"Scott, get back!" I yelled, throwing the smoke bomb at the masked man, but I was too late. Despite the continuous volley of arrows, he lunged at Scott and punched him in the chest. The shockwave it created blew the toxic smoke over my body, whilst Scott was sent flying back into a building, toppling to the ground, and coughing up a small pool of blood. Laying there, his only sign of life was the twitching of his fingers, as he collapsed to the ground. Elysif's familiars began shuffling with rage. I could only imagine Elysif's level of hatred for this man after seeing Scott like that. Iscariot, still focusing on casting the ethereal arrows Into the masked man, probably had no idea that Scott was out of commission… and that soon, I would probably be as well.

Frozen, I couldn't run, but I couldn't fight either. He was probably going to incapacitate me or kill me if I stayed. If I ran to another time period, then what? I wouldn't be able to live with myself. "Even though I may feel the pain of these attacks, did you really think that I still wouldn't be able to absorb the energy from them?" the masked man asked with condescending pride as he turned back to face me.

"T-that's bullshit, right? The-ere's no way that something that convenient exists," I stuttered, unable to comprehend the absolutely overpowered bullshit that he was spewing. What could I do? I couldn't even run away out of fear.

"Now… it's your turn," he said, grabbing my collar. I tried to escape his grip, only for him to punch me in the chest with his free hand, the force of which sent me flying into the wall of the bridge again, with possibly shattered ribs and crushed lungs. However, the force flipped my broken body over the wall, falling onto the water below. Because of Iscariot's barrier, I didn't sink, but rather, slumped over top. Conveniently, the effect of the running water caused me to be dragged by the current, like a water conveyor belt.

Floating away, I could hear the masked man talking to himself, "I can get him later. For now, I better take care of that sorcerer, this barrier, and then the witch behind these familiars." Shit! I need to get up. Though my consciousness was quickly fading away, as I was carried downstream. Only to find that I was among the stars. Wait… why was I in the Realm of Stars?

Turning around, I was faced with the Time god, Sela. Without a beanbag chair this time, the being was pacing around the Realm of Stars deep in thought. "Sela, why am I here?" I asked in a philosophical manner. Stopping immediately, the deity gave me a whimsical, unsure look. The stars flickering above reflected off Sela's vibrant hairs, hanging low from the left side of the child-like being's head with an irregular divinity.

With a sincere smile, Sela spoke caringly. "You are here because I thought you could use a break. Also, you fell unconscious… so I thought I would talk to you till you woke up. There isn't much else you can do at this moment."

"What the hell does that mean?" I asked, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the fact that I was chilling in the Realm of Stars while everyone else was fighting that masked freak. Scott was possibly dead, Iscariot may be able to handle himself, but he won't be able to keep up the barrier for much longer, and Elysif couldn't do anything else while controlling her familiars, so she'll be a sitting duck. Even if I couldn't win, I had to try and at least give them a chance to escape.

"Simple…" Sela began to say, as a devilish grin formed upon the being's child-like face, sending me into a stupor of unease. "... someone much more powerful is about to show up."

Did this being see this as a joke? My friends are about to die and they stand here, entertained by our fight. The lack of care this deity held for humanity was exemplified by its enjoyment of someone stronger entering our fight. My biggest question was whether it was a friend or foe. "I thought we were going to win? the note from the future said so," I asked, confused as to why the future would possibly change after Sela said it couldn't.

"It did, but it didn't say how. Didn't that note also warn you to watch your head? You should have been more prudent about that. Your jaw might not have been hit so many times," Sela said with a mocking, yet giddy look. Sitting down cross-legged in front of me, the time god gave me an empathetic but innocent look that only caused me to sigh in defeat. I was stuck here so there was no helping it. Plus, most of my fears had been alleviated.

Sitting down across from Sela, I crossed my legs over the water-like floor below me. Ripples formed in the water as I did, expanding out into the stars until I could no longer see them. The sight grounded me, calming me before letting out a tired sigh, "So nothing has changed?"

With a vaguely annoyed look, the time god rocked back and forth. "Of course. It has already affected you, so it would have eventually happened," Sela replied as if I should have already known this. Technically, I did know this but I guess I was still having trouble fully comprehending it.

"So who exactly is this powerful person that is gonna show up?" I asked curiously, figuring that Sela wouldn't give me a straight answer.

Sela began to look excited in a proud kind of way. Strangely, the excitement radiating from the time lord felt accompanied by an empty sadness, barely hidden by its pride. "The one your captor has been imitating; Sir Micheal,"

"What?!?"

 

[Paul_Tromba]

Iscariot stood at the edge of the gate, eyes closed and completely tuned out to the world. His sole focus was on the gate and attacking the Elder One from an alternate plane of existence. A feat in itself, yet he let out a sigh, breaking the gate and his attack. Unable to continue the task, he assumed that Scott, Lou, and Elysif had already killed or apprehended the Elder One. He was not greeted with such a sight. Before him, lied Scott, barely alive at best, with no sign of Lou, the masked figure of the Elder One menacingly approaching, and each of Elysif's familiars charging at him with a vengeful fury. "Oh, bugger," he muttered with a distraught but stoic expression, for he was too mentally exhausted to do anything magical for the time being.

Elysif's familiars rushed the Elder One, ethereal knights in blue light. Each of the thirteen held their halberts for different swinging and stabbing motions in order to completely cut him off. Only to have every last one of them impaled by the Elder One's pikes, summoned from the dirt and cobblestone street. For only a second, there was silence. Followed by a guttural scream of pain erupting from Elysif atop a nearby building. With one hand she grabbed her forehead, scratching and tearing at her scalp and skin. Her other hand felt around her bag desperately for a potion, prepared in advance for this exact situation. Popping out the cork, she downed the contents and began slamming her fist into the roof as the pain increased and then vanished near entirely. Getting up, she began to climb down from the building.

***

The Elder One strode slowly towards Iscariot, past the incapacitated Scott. Iscariot, having accepted his defeat, began to formulate a way for him to escape with Scott and Elysif, leaving Lou to his fate. However, he noticed that the masked figure had stopped. Slowly turning around to look back at the bridge, a faint echo of metallic footsteps softly rang through the area. These steps carried with them an aura of impending doom, one which terrified the Elder One. Within the shadow of the alleyway across the bridge, he saw it emerge, a rough mask in the fog, dirty white, and cut by a single black streak from the top left down to the right jawline. From each of the eye slits were red lines, mimicking an endless stream of bloody tears. The most off-putting part of the mask was the large horrifying smile that acted as a mouth slit, yet, there was no mouth beneath it, just the hollow darkness. His body was covered with a dirt-covered grey coat, whose torn and tattered coattails hung down just past his knees. On his forearms and lower legs were dark purple ethereal platemail that covered his shoes and hands. Adorning his side was a sword with a simple wooden hilt. To match his outfit, Sir Micheal's mud-stained silver hair hung just below his shoulders.

Seeing Sir Micheal approaching him, the Elder One shifted his attention away from Iscariot and began to yell angrily. "So… Sir Micheal reveals himself. Are you mad that I had been pretending to be you? Everyone swears you're dead. Have you come back from the dead, or were you just hiding? What is the answer, Micheal?"

Sir Micheal did not respond and continued to march forward, only stopping upon reaching the middle of the bridge. Pulling his sword from its sheath, he revealed that it was the same purple colour as his armor. Out of respect, he did a formal knight's salute without a word. This only angered the Elder One, much to Iscariot's amusement, as he summoned several blades to impale Sir Micheal in response. The knight cut through the Elder One's blades like butter, which fell to the ground with a loud series of cracks and clangs.

Raising his arms in ecstatic eagerness, the Elder One tapped his feat for joy. "So it is you! Only you wield that blade. Arthur did entrust it to you, after all!" Regaining his composure, he shifted back to being threatening. "Even if that blade can kill an Elder One, it will be as useless as I am," he declared, before charging at Sir Micheal. Rapidly closing the distance, the Elder One gave a flurry of blows to Sir Micheal. Instinctively, Sir Micheal deflected the blows, returning the Elder One with a stab of his blade. Unlike before, where he would have just absorbed the attack, the Elder One jumped out of the way of the sword before sucker-punching him in the jaw. As a result, Sir Micheal's mask began morphing. The dark pit that made up the mask's terrifying smile opened up, revealing several layers of sharp teeth similar to jagged rocks. With quick vigor, the Elder One jumped back to avoid the mask, which was itself attempting to bite him.

In both curiosity and intrigue, the Elder One observed the mask, as it nearly separated from Sir Micheal's body. "Well, that's a new trick. Did your mask come to life as part of its curse?" he asked in a somewhat taunting manner, despite being in too poor a position to defend against the possible repercussions. Sir Micheal said nothing, all he did was stride closer to the masked man without any signs of defense. He didn't seem to care about the possibility of being attacked.

"Still not going to talk to me? Fine then, die!" The masked Elder One yelled in a fit of determined fury before several hundred crimson strings surrounded him, enclosing around his body like a net. Noticing his predicament, the Elder One spoke with a criticizing tone. "Blood magic? This seems a little low, even for you."

"..." Still, Sir Micheal said nothing.

"Oh, I know about these. A witch can sacrifice their own blood or someone else's in order to create weapons and traps for them to use. Strangely, I have no clue where these came from. The only people that I know of who can use such an ability are the Avian coven," the masked man said. His words obviously angered Sir Micheal, because the crimson net around the Elder One's body tightened ever so slightly.

Closing the gap between them, Sir Micheal held out his blade and stabbed the masked man in the shoulder. Crying out in pain, he fell to the ground. The blood wrappings that bound him dissipated into seemingly thin air as he did, revealing that he was bleeding from his wound.

Sir Micheal stood over him like an executioner, sword in hand. Looking up, the masked man stared in stupefaction. "It won't work. It's too late to save her," Sir Micheal finally spoke. Strangely, his battle-hardened deep voice sounded less like an enemy and more like an old friend.

"What do you know? The first thing out of your mouth since we started this fight and that's what you have to say, you ass," the Elder One muttered angrily.

"..." Sir Micheal returned to saying nothing. Instead of speaking, he simply held his blade out toward him to signify that he was ready to continue fighting.

"Fine, have it your way," the Elder One exclaimed in a hate-filled roar as he lunged at Sir Micheal with the speed of an old man. Without any hesitation or mercy, Sir Micheal swung his blade, making a deep cut to his torso. The masked imitator collapsed to his knees against the cold stone bridge, like a sack of wet potatoes.

"I-Inconceivable…" he sputtered out before he gave an overly dramatic last breath before Sir Micheal swung his blade again, beheading the masked figure. Blood pooled off from his wound and out onto the bridge in a trail, weaving its path between the cobblestone, leading into the now darkened canal below.

Without a word, Sir Micheal returned his sword to its sheath, spun, and began sauntering back over the bridge from where he came. Iscariot, not wanting to miss the chance to speak, ran after Sir Micheal. "Micheal, is that really you?" he asked with a hopeful expression, contrasted by his scratchy voice.

Sir Micheal stopped immediately and turned back to face the old sorcerer. His mask shifted to create a set of normal lips. "Been a while, Iscariot. How are you doing, old friend?" his voice sounded sad, but also overjoyed, as if he were on the verge of breaking down. The mask he wore, bore each word kindly, moving perfectly to his will.

"Fairly well myself. You look great, though," he replied with a comforting and kind voice, that of an old friend. Then returning to his usual mannerisms, he looked over at Scott, and then back at Sir Micheal. "Say… Would you mind healing the two idiots before you disappear again?"

"Of course I would mind. You have a perfectly good witch with plenty of skill to do that. I don't need to do that for her," Sir Micheal said with a slight chuckle. Reaching out his hand, he took Iscariot's hand and gave him a slight nod.

With a similar chuckle, Iscariot squeezed his hand tight. "You're an absolute bastard." Letting go of the old sorcerer's hand, Sir Micheal turned around and continued over the bridge. The clanking of his metal shoes echoed throughout the streets in the same manner as when he entered, before coming to an abrupt silence, vanishing into the dense fog.

Turning back to Scott, Iscariot rushed over to examine the state of his injuries since he was just lying face down on the cobblestone. Rolling him over onto his back, Iscariot checked to see if his heart was still beating. Thankfully, it was, so he gave a sigh of relief. Though, despite his relief, he wished that Elysif would get over here and heal him already. Then, he could go look for Lou. He couldn't have gone that far, could he?

Finally laying on his back, Scott groaned in pain. The act of which gave Iscariot some more room to breathe. Scott opened his eyes to view the old man and the cloudy night sky above him. "So you know Sir Micheal personally?" he asked. Each slight motion, along with every utterance, gave him a harsh stinging, burning pain in his chest and arms.

With a quite reluctant and smug look, Iscariot smiled at Scott. Sitting beside him, there was a calmness that neither of them expected to feel after such a fight. Scott was still in a lot of pain, though. "You would be surprised at how many people I know, as well as who I know."

"So, what is he? That man can't be human. I noticed at least two different forms of magic being utilized at once and without preparation," Scott asked between gritted teeth. He knew that it was gonna hurt to ask, but he felt like he needed some kind of answer. It didn't make any sense, and not knowing hurt worse than the broken bones and internal bleeding.

Iscariot thought for a moment. It was strange for him to have to ponder such a simple question for so long. That said, he was getting up there in age. His memory could just be fleeting. Then his expression changed to a fairly disconcerting look. "I have no idea. All I can say is that he is powerful."

"I saw him. It was impressive," Scott said with a loud groan. Following his groan was a series of pained coughs. "Oh, it hurts to cough," he mumbled with an elongated groan.

"How could you see any of that when you were face down in the dirt?" Iscariot asked curiously. He knew that Scott was facing away from the bridge when he was knocked down. At least, he seemed to be when he opened his eyes.

"I could see it out of the corner of my eye. Now, where is Lou?" Scott crassly said. Between each word came a groan and wheeze. Despite his pain, Scott reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his flask. Quickly taking it from him, Iscariot opened it and put it to his lips.

With a thankful nod, Scott began to sip the contents. As he drank, Iscariot looked around with a dumbfounded look. Coming to a conclusion, he answered cautiously. "I think… he may have… floated down the canal. I haven't seen him."

"Well, is he okay?" Scott asked with a worried expression, as he took the flask away from Iscariot. Drinking the contents a bit faster than any doctor would recommend, Scott tried to relax as his belly warmed and his pain lessened ever so slightly.

"Maybe. I was too busy keeping the barrier up to see. Who knows how far he was carried, and in what condition... Hell, he may have just run away. Elysif may know. Damn… where is that girl?" Iscariot stated with an annoyed huff, blowing off all the responsibility.

"I have my flask, so I'll be fine. You go find Lou. Elysif can heal me up once she gets over here," Scott said with a slightly less painful groan than before.

Standing up, Iscariot gave Scott an accepting nod, before jogging down the side of the canal as well as the old man could. Leaving Scott alone, with no ability to move, and only his now half-empty flask. All he could do was close his eyes and rest as much as possible. With his eyes shut, a wave of relief was cast over him, only to be interrupted as Elysif ran up to him.

Stopping over top of Scott, Elysif pulled out a vial and dumped the contents all over his body. Scott clenched his teeth as the liquid sizzled like hot oil upon his doused clothing touching his skin. A salty aroma wafted off of him, like steam that burned both their nostrils. As the liquid soaked into his body, he felt the pain subside from his skin. All the bruises and fresh cuts on his body began fading as a result.

Between clenched teeth, Scott hissed and cursed at everything in sight, writhing like a fish out of water. "Damnit Elysif, give me a little warning next time!" Scott yelled angrily once the pain completely subsided. He would gesture around for emphasis, but moving still hurt his insides too much.

"A thank you would be appreciated. Now that the external stuff is dealt with, let me see what the internal damage is," Elysif replied sassily, before feeling around his body. He winced in pain every time she touched him, and in almost every location that she felt, Elysif, realizing how badly injured he was, let out a frustrated sigh.

With a pissed glare, Scott tried to sit up, only to seize up and lay back down from the pain. The only thing he could do was give Elysif a spiteful look and say "You suck," with a pissy attitude.

Ignoring his unnecessary attitude, Elysif gave a soft but reluctant sigh, as she began looking through her bag. "Well, you have several broken ribs and a broken arm. There may be muscle and organ damage, but I will have to do a more thorough examination at the apartment. Until then, take this," she said, before pulling a vial filled with dirty brown liquid from her bag and handing it to him.

Taking the vial with a pained expression, he eyed the contents warily. "What is it?" Scott normally never questioned it when Elysif handed him something to drink after getting hurt, but the colour, as well as the consistency, made him question its safety and potability.

"Same thing I just poured on you. It won't heal your bones, but it should take care of the organ and muscle damage," Elysif said as if the idea of drinking something that painful wasn't awful.

"Then why would I drink it? It burned like hell," Scott retorted as he eyed the vial with intense fear and disgust. Yet, he didn't throw it as a part of him knew he needed to drink it to stay alive.

Putting her hands on her hips, Elysif raised an eyebrow and frowned at him. "Do you want to repair your damaged organs or not?" she asked with an overly sassy tone, which annoyed Scott to no end, and she knew it. It was the same way that Silva would act toward him when he wasn't listening or being overly stubborn.

"Fine," Scott gave in with a disgusted groan, before popping the cork off the vial. In one large gulp, he drank the contents and instantly cried out in pain. His yell was similar to that of a deep Wilhelm scream, combined with a coughing fit. It could even be compared to a dying moose.

"Well, that's what you get for fighting someone that powerful," Elysif said with a shake of her head, as if she had told him that it was a bad idea earlier. Though she hadn't said anything before, so it just made her sound like an ass.

Finishing his yell with a loud cough, Scott turned to Elysif with tears streaming down his face. "No, it hasn't kicked in yet. It just tasted like absolute ass," he stated, as he desperately tried to get the contents of the vial off his taste buds. Downing a few more sips from his flask in the process.

"Just wait," she said right as Scott curled up in a ball and shrieked at an unhinged and inhuman level. The sound of which could only be described as a warcry from death itself. Hearing and seeing his state in horror, Elysif clicked her tongue with a bemused look. "There it is."

 

[Paul_Tromba]

Opening my eyes, I saw water. It splashed up onto my face, causing me to spit and curse in return. Damnit, Sela! Every time I come back without feeling like I am falling, I end up waking up to some annoying shit. Looking up, I realized that my body had floated onto one of the sidewalls of the canal. Using every bit of strength that I had, I crawled up the short wall of the canal and laid down onto the cobblestone road. My clothes were soaked, it was cold as hell, and I felt like shit. Thankfully, my body had already healed, but a headache began to form along with my built-up fatigue. As I lay there, I couldn't help but wonder if we had truly won. I couldn't possibly know the answer from where I was, though. That is, until I saw Iscariot's old decrepit body jogging toward me, his mage cloak flapping in the cold night air. Stopping a meter or so before me, he fell to his knees where he began coughing and wheezing from a lack of breath.

"I need to get in better shape," Iscariot said to himself between long deep breaths. Looking at the state I was in, he nodded with a satisfied look. Whether he was glad I wasn't dead or whether he was just satisfied that I could walk back without help was a mystery to me.

Refusing to get up from where I lay, the headache I had made the idea of standing sickening for the moment. All I could do was roll ever so slightly to look at Iscariot. "Did we win?" I asked with a tired groan.

"Well, you seem fine; and yes, we won," Iscariot replied as if it were obvious. The sass emanating from this old, out-of-shape man annoyed me to no end, but arguing with him would only make my headache worse.

"Don't be so sassy with me. I am in a lot of pain," I snapped harshly. Then I remembered the state that Scott was left in when I passed out.. "Speaking of which, how is Scott?"

"He is in a lot of pain too, but Elysif should be taking care of him now," Iscariot replied, either forgiving my attitude or ignoring it.

Sitting up with a tired grunt, I gave Iscariot a look as though he should be empathetic to anyone whom Elysif heals. That said, Scott would probably have died otherwise. "Good, then I better get over there."

Iscariot helped me up and the two of us walked back toward Scott and Elysif. My clothes dripped considerably as we did. It was annoying, as the damp clothes stuck to my skin, causing me to slowly chaff in areas that no one wants to chaff in. As we arrived, Iscariot and I found that they were in a very strange set of circumstances, where Scott was writhing on the ground in obvious pain while Elysif stood above him as if she were taking notes on the effects. I was starting to think that Elysif was even more sadistic than I'd thought. She would be the type of person who would poke a dead body with a stick for fun.

"Is he okay?" I asked cautiously as we approached. Elysif turned towards me with a gratefully happy expression.

"He's fine, the medicine is just taking a bit longer to work through his system, is all. He'll be in pain for the next few minutes, but it will heal up his organ damage. The broken bones are a separate issue," Elysif replied, looking back at Scott who was currently hissing through his teeth in the fetal position.

"Oh, I see… Where is the masked man?" I asked, realizing that I had yet to see a corpse.

"Over there," she answered as she pointed at the bridge. A trail of blood seeped down the edge of the bridge and into the canal but I couldn't see a body. He may be dead but I didn't want to get my hopes up. Wandering onto the bridge, I couldn't believe it. Before me were the decapitated remains of the masked man.

All I could do was stand above his corpse before finally lifting the mask from his head. I just wanted to see what he looked like underneath the mask. Just who was it that wanted to use me so badly and tortured me for weeks? I found that it was the face of an old man. He had tears staining his cheeks and his wrinkled skin was cold and rubbery, as if he had been dead for a while. All the hair on his face was white and looked as if it hadn't been trimmed in months.

On the backside of the mask, though, I noticed something. A set of runes or sigils, perhaps? Nothing else, though. "Hey, Iscariot. What do these runes mean?" I asked, throwing him the mask. With a poor excuse of an attempt, he barely caught it, studied it for a moment, and his eyes grew wide.

"This marking is nicknamed the puppet master. It allows one to control a body, living or dead, from anywhere. There is also a transference rune in here, which allows someone with the same rune to trade places with the person who has this rune," Iscariot answered whilst shaking the mask as if it were an eviction notice. In a disgruntled manner, he sat down against the wall of a building.

"Which means someone else was controlling the person we were fighting this whole time… or possibly switched with the old guy before getting killed," Elysif added with a disappointing realization.

Upon her saying this, Scott sat up slowly but without pain. Without any hesitation or self-control, he drank some of the contents of his flask before speaking. "Great, so we aren't done." His tone and expression made him seem far better than he did a second ago. Though, with that kind of pain, anything would have been an improvement.

"Oh good, the medicine has finally finished working," I said, ignoring his statement out of the hope that if I didn't acknowledge it, it wouldn't come to pass. Scott gave me an annoyed look.

"Hey, fuck you," Scott said to me before taking another swig from his flask.

"Hey, I got my ass kicked too," I said as if that were something to be proud of. The only thing it did though was make Elysif snicker at me. She knew I had been beaten to hell but I could heal myself so she found my comment rather humourous despite it not being funny.

"Yeah, but all your wounds are healed, while I have several broken bones that will have to heal naturally," Scott replied angrily.

"Sucks to be you," I replied with a monotone voice that sent Scott over the edge. However, he couldn't do anything about it, because he was at least two meters from me with various bone injuries.

"Don't talk to your superior like that," Scott yelled before taking another swig of his flask with a more dramatic flair.

"He is right, though," Elysif said, agreeing with me. Iscariot shook his head. Mainly, he did so due to the fact that he didn't see the fight itself, and saw that I was basically unhurt.

Scott gave Elysif a shocked and betrayed look. "Not you too, Elysif?" Though his expression quickly shifted to that of someone having an epiphany. "Actually, you have always been an ass, so never mind," Scott said, finishing his train of thought before letting out a defeated sigh.

After we finished our little conversation, Iscariot held the mask up. "So what do you have to say? I know you can speak through this mask still," Iscariot asked the mask itself with a satisfyingly smug voice. We had no idea what he was talking about but we all looked at the mask he held in anticipation.

"... I guess you are much smarter than I first thought. However, had Sir Micheal not appeared, all but the time lord would be dead and I would have forced him to take me back in time already." The mask said in a detestable voice that reminded me of an old 1960s radio voice-over.

"So are you going to come after us or are you just going to send more puppets?" I asked in a threatening voice despite being terrified of knowing the answer.

"I am not sure yet, but I can assure you that your lives will not be easy from here on out," the mask stated with an equally threatening tone. Unlike my own, his voice had no sign of fear or regret embedded within.

"As if it were easy before," Scott replied with a haughty expression.

"Well, if you know of hell, then you are about to meet the devil. You should expect something soon," the voice said before a large crack split down the center of the mask. Continuing like a tree branch, the crack spread out over the entirety of the mask, which came crumbling out of Iscariot's hand in a thousand tiny pieces.

We were all silent. None of us had any idea what our next step was gonna be. We were just waiting again, waiting for anything to happen. The feeling of anticipation ached, and it seemed like everyone else felt the same. We were useless in the fight and we had to rely on someone that was considered an enemy of the Table to clean up our mess. How exactly were we going to get out of another attack alive? I sure as hell didn't know.

"We should probably just go home for now," Elysif finally said to break the silence. All of us just nodded in agreement.

Seeing all of our reactions, Scott looked back and forth between each of us as if searching for something. "Now, will one of you help me up? I may be hurting with broken bones, but both my legs are fine… somehow."

"Sure," I said, helping him to his feet. Once he was standing, Scott held his left arm at a ninety-degree angle with his right hand and the four of us began heading back home.

"Wait, what about the body? We can't just leave it there" Iscariot asked. He had a good point, so we stopped and pondered our options.

"Chuck it in the canal. Nature will do its thing," Scott replied without a care in the world.

"Seems a little disrespectful," Elysif noted. I wasn't for being disrespectful of the dead but this corpse was different. It could be buried in shit for all I cared, so I charged over to the body to throw it in the canal myself.

"Says the girl who dissects people all the time," Scott replied jokingly, not realizing that I had wandered off.

Elysif, also unaware that I was currently assessing how best to lift the body without drenching my already wet clothes in blood, gave Scott an angry look. "It is a medical examination, and it is for science!" It was obvious that that comment got on her nerves, but Scott wore a smug grin that he was trying to hide from her by sipping on his flask.

"And isn't the circle of life part of Science?" Scott asked, trying to push her a bit more. This time, instead of getting mad, she pondered his remark. Iscariot also pondered this, but was distracted by me throwing the man's head like a basketball free-throw into the canal. Scott and Elysif, on the other hand, were still blissfully unaware of my current actions, so I began to lift up the body.

"I can't really argue that," she finally replied to Scott's remark, accepting his logic.

"Good, now chuck it in the canal… and let's go home. I'm tired and I still need my broken bones looked at," Scott said with a spoiled groan, before he and Elysif turned just in time to see me awkwardly heave the headless body into the river. I have to say that it is much harder to pick up a body when it is dead. It was like if you were to pick someone up, but instead of them helping you by taking some of the weight, they just go full dead fish and give you all the weight.

Turning back around, Scott gave Elysif and Iscariot a satisfied look. "Well, now that that is taken care of, let's go home."

Once we got home, Scott got properly bandaged up with a splint and sling for his left arm, and we all went to bed for the night. Turns out that Scott had several broken bones in his left arm and ribcage. His right hand also had a fracture, but not anywhere that would hinder common use. He just couldn't punch anything for a while.

Since Scott was out of commission for a while, I had to give the full written report to the Table. It wasn't an easy report as I had to explain everything that happened, especially since I had to tell them how we may have started a war with an Elder One. Scott had also warned me to be careful about mentioning that Sir Micheal was there. I never really saw him, so there was no reason for me to mention it. The difficult part was getting it to the Table. Since mailing it would take too long, I took the train to Warwick to deliver the report myself, and hopefully stock up on ammunition.

"Okay, you got this," I said to myself as I marched into the Table's main room. The giant circular room with various hallways connected to it glowed in its unnatural blue hue. Mordred was talking to a few agents whom I had never seen before, near the hallway leading to her and Merlin's office. Upon finishing her conversation with them, Mordred turned to me with a surprised look. I guess that she hadn't expected me back for a while.

"So, I heard from Iscariot that there was an issue with the one known in the papers as Jack the Ripper?" Mordred asked before I could say anything.

"To say the least," I replied honestly. It was far more difficult than just an issue.

"What happened? If Scott's not here, then I assume that he was injured, or perhaps he just didn't want to come here himself. He never could stand the train," Mordred asked with an interestingly tired look. Her attire, which currently looked similar to Elysif's style of clothing. was plainly with brown pants and a white button-up, was a bit dishevelled, but clean.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he had come up with an excuse just to not ride on the train again, but Scott was in fact, heavily injured," I replied honestly. For a moment, Mordred didn't believe me, but she quickly realized that I was telling the truth. Thus, causing her to give me a very confused expression, as she began rubbing her chin in thought.

"How could he have been injured, as powerful as he is?" The expression on her face only seemed to grow more confused with every word, as she tried desperately to rationalize it.

"An Elder One kicked our asses," I replied, which turned her confusion into startling shock.

Finally rationalizing the situation in her head, Mordred understood that we would have barely stood a chance. "An Elder One you say? That would explain how he was injured." Putting one hand on her hip, she returned to rubbing her chin, immersed in thought, with her other hand. "Do you know which Elder One it was that you fought?" Mordred asked, finally coming to terms with the situation.

"We believe that it may have been Freya from Norse mythology, but we aren't entirely sure," I answered with what Sela had told me earlier. It was probably the closest we could come to figuring out who the Elder One was.

"That is disturbing," Mordred said, before crossing her arms and rubbing her chin. She seemed to be deep in thought about this information. For what reason, I did not know.

"How so?" I asked curiously. The idea of an Elder One on the loose was scary, but her voice seemed less worried and more speculative of my answer. There was something else going on in her thought process.

"Freya was the one who crafted all of the swords for the knights of the round table. We all knew of her as the Lady of the Lake," Mordred replied. That had come up before, but now, I was hearing it from a first-hand witness, so it had to be fairly true.

"But, someone inherited her power, right?"

Mordred seemed to be pondering this question herself, as she gave me an unsure look, "That power was supposed to be inherited by Merlin, since he was closest to her, but since he already had the abilities of his mother, Helen of Troy, he couldn't have another. It seemed as if the power had vanished entirely," Mordred said with an interested and thoughtful look.

"So we don't know who inherited it?"

"Nobody knows. We have no idea how the inheritance process works, and neither do the Elder Ones. Some can pass their powers down to their children while they are alive, and others will seemingly disappear out of existence or appear again at random," Mordred explained with a saddened demeanour. Leading me over to a bench, she sat down, so I sat down as well, honestly worn out from the past month of constant pain and stress.

"So even now, we can't figure out who it was that attacked us?" I asked with a defeated sigh. My back leaned up against the wall in an uncomfortable position for my neck. However, it made me wish that I had some time to finally relax.

"All you can do is wait... though we have some news you may want to hear. After your encounter with the dwarf named Rubin Reuben, we sent some agents to talk with him. They found all of the Willowisps missing, and the dwarf impaled on a pike within his library," Mordred said with a heartfelt tone to change the subject. Though this was not a better topic at all. The Elder One had told me that Rubin was dead, but I didn't want to believe it.

"That doesn't seem like good news to me," I replied, wishing that she had told me something to cheer me up.

"It wasn't supposed to be. I am simply telling you the truth. We are sorry that he is dead, but we were able to take his entire library into our possession." She seemed a tad bit smug as she said it, but I could tell that she cared despite having a hard time showing it.

"Seems a little rude to take all of his stuff, doesn't it?" I asked, as it felt wrong to me. Plus, what were they going to do with all his stuff? Sell it?

"Yes. Though it will also aid us, he wasn't going to be using it anymore anyways. You may have heard that we are low on funds. It's why Scott was the only Agent in all of London until recently, so we could use all the help we can get. I'm personally hoping there's an ancient alchemy spell for turning items into gold among them," Mordred said, before her stomach growled loudly for an uncomfortably long four seconds.

"Are you okay?" I asked out of concern for her health, as the loud groaning that emanated from her stomach didn't sound good.

Holding her stomach whilst leaning forward, Mordred gave me an awkward and semi-pained chuckle. "I'm fine. I just haven't eaten in several days because we've had to make a few budget cuts within the past few weeks."

With a frankly concerned look, I turned to her. "You need to eat something! I'll even pay for it, just don't starve yourself," I said in a forceful manner, as I didn't want her to keel over and die.

Mordred gave me a thankful look. "You are a saint," she said, trying not to tear up as it seemed that she wasn't expecting to eat at all for another few days.

She seemed a lot happier once I mentioned feeding her, but what she said about Scott raised my curiosity. Scott had already discussed it before, but he never truly explained anything in detail about the Table and how it functioned. "I do have one question about your statement involving Scott being the only Agent in London. What about Iscariot and Elysif, aren't they technically agents of the Table?"

As if remembering some past trauma, Mordred sat silently for a second before answering. "Iscariot is more or less on our watchlist, so Scott is making sure he stays out of trouble. As for Elysif, she does work on the side, and is mainly supported through Scott's funding and by selling medicine, from what I know. She is not an official agent."

"Why does Scott fund Elysif, then, if she isn't an agent?" I asked with a curious look.

"Elysif is technically Scott's adopted sister-in-law. Scott's wife, Silva, had a habit of taking in children and convincing Director Langston to adopt them. Director Compton, Scott, and Elysif were adopted into the family. However, Compton's case was… a little different, as the Director had already taken him in before adopting him at Silva's request," Mordred explained. I had a vague idea already about them having a family dynamic, so it wasn't all that hard to believe. However, this information gave me a new image of Scott's wife. The thought of her just finding kids and getting her father to adopt them was mildly amusing and a tad bit concerning.

"Okay, I think I get it now," I replied, as it all started to make more and more sense to me. Nothing was said between us for a moment, causing an uncomfortable silence that was broken only by the sound of various footsteps around us and in the hallways.

"Before I forget, how did you and Scott manage to defeat someone with an Elder One's power?" Mordred asked. Although she was asking innocently, it felt like I was being interrogated. Her demeanor was threatening, despite her being calm and simply curious. Perhaps, it was due to her history on the battlefield? Either way, not telling her the truth felt wrong for some reason. Whether it was out of respect, guilt, or honor is unknown to me.

"We… didn't," I answered, as small beads of sweat began to form on my brow. I'm so sorry, Scott. Mordred looks like she wants to know, and I feel like I need to answer honestly. Whatever was causing this commitment to truth would probably bite me in the ass, but whatever.

"Excuse me? How did you survive then?" Mordred asked curiously, as she didn't expect most people to survive a fight against an Elder One. In fact, the way I answered only made her more suspicious that something else may have happened.

"Well… Sir Micheal showed up and killed him within a few minutes," I answered rapidly with a tinge of fear. Mordred just stared at me with cold eyes. She didn't say anything, but strangely, I felt as if she was about to explode. Leaning forward, she placed her hands over her face, and rubbed them up and down as if she had just woken up after a strange dream.

Lifting her head after a few seconds, she turned back to me. "Did you see him?" she asked kindly, as if she wasn't about to explode as Scott had warned.

"What?" I replied, unsure of what she meant.

"Did. You. See. Him?" she repeated, getting as close to me as she could to say it. This time, far more threatening than before. She was practically on top of me as she asked. Was there no definition of personal space in her mind?

"No, I was unconscious in a canal when he showed up," I replied honestly. She was getting too close for comfort and I didn't feel like getting hurt today. I had had enough beatings recently to last a lifetime.

"Then who saw him?" she asked with an eager glare, her eyes practically touching my own. Disturbingly, her gaze felt as if it were peering into my soul. Was she using magic to make me tell the truth? I didn't know, and asking would probably not be wise.

"Iscariot and Scott. They told me about him when I woke up," I replied, hoping that she would back away from me. Sadly, she only slunk back slightly.

"Did he wield a purple-ish sword?" she asked with even more eager eyes. For some reason, it felt like there was more admiration for the knight than hatred in her question.

"Uh, yes, and he also had glowing purple armor on his forearms and lower legs according to what Scott told me," I continued explaining, as my fears of her began to slowly increase.

Hearing my answer, Mordred sat back against the bench, giving me some space. "So it is him," she said to herself, before standing up and calling over one of the agents in the room who looked to be busy delivering some items, "Go fetch Merlin, and tell him it's urgent."

"But Merlin is currently in the study hall helping sort through the books collected from the dwarven Sorcerer's home. He requested not to be disturbed," the agent replied with an inquisitive tone.

"Did I stutter? Fetch him, now!" Mordred replied with a stern but otherwise calm voice. Her relaxed figure combined with her naturally threatening aura caused the agent to run off, looking quite frightened.

Turning back to me, she gave me an earnest smile. Though it was neither from joy, nor pleasure, but out of something else that I could not identify. Obsession, perhaps? "Now, Mr. Barrett, I will be accompanying you on your return to London, so that I may speak with Scott directly. Is there anything you need while you are here?"

"Just a few more silver and iron bullets will do," I said with a vaguely distraught look, before standing up.

"Good. Why don't you go take care of that while I wait for Merlin?" she offered with a strangely comforting tone, that confused my meager ability to understand social cues and emotions. Mordred in particular was an enigma at this point, since her emotions, aura, and mannerisms conflicted in every way that they were shown, befuddling me to no end. So I just gave a nod of agreement and hurried on my way.

Returning around ten minutes later, with my pockets now containing a few boxes of bullets, I arrived at the same time as Merlin, who had large dark bags under his eyes. Wrapped in a large blanket, Merlin wore nothing else. In his hand, as if he had forgotten that it was there, was an old book. His body seemed to be teetering from side to side, as if he were about to collapse from exhaustion. Had he not slept in days? "What is it, Mordred? You know I am busy at the moment," he asked with an exasperated sigh that was followed by a long yawn.

"I understand, but I thought I would let you know that I am taking my leave to London, so you will have to take control for a day or two," Mordred replied, doing her best to not leave any room for debate.

"Wait a moment. Please tell me that this doesn't have anything to do with Sir Micheal. Also, I am up to my waist in books that need to be sorted. I don't have time to look after the whole Table while you're away!" Merlin complained with a tired and frustrated expression.

"It does in fact have to do with Sir Micheal, but all I am doing is following up on a lead. You'll be fine for a day or two without me," Mordred said, before patting him on his shoulder. He looked a bit confused by this gesture due to being so tired, but accepted it nonetheless.

"Don't you think it's time you stopped thinking about that man?" Merlin asked. Mordred gave him a glare that I had never seen on anyone before, and I definitely didn't believe I would ever see it on Mordred's face. It was one of pure blind rage. She wasn't entirely sane, not in the slightest! Strangely, I think that Merlin knew this already.

"Did you forget what he did? How he killed my father, your friend. He lied to us, to me, and made us think he was an ally," Mordred said in a dictatorial voice.

"I just think we need to focus on the Table for now and not on Micheal—" Merlin started to say before being interrupted.

"Please do not try and reason with me on this. I do not doubt that it is him, so I am doing what I need to in order to protect the table from him," Mordred stated with a threatening tone. Merlin, knowing that there was no reasoning with her on this matter, quickly backed off and decided to let her do what she wanted.

"Alright then, do whatever you must. I will do my best to take care of things here," Merlin said with a gracious, yet exhausted manner, before meandering back from whence he came.

"I'm sorry you had to witness that," Mordred said, as she turned to me. I wasn't sure how to respond to her. Scott was right about Sir Micheal being a touchy subject.

"No, it's fine. Shall we head to London, then?" I asked, hoping to not set off any emotional landmines.

"Yes, of course," Mordred replied, before escorting me to the exit.

 

[Paul_Tromba]

After waiting for nearly an hour, we boarded the train. The trip itself was relatively easy, and I was able to relax for most of it. Over the course of our ride, I explained the entire situation to Mordred, starting with myself getting captured and ending with our big fight with the masked Elder One. She was very interested in the whole scenario, but after finishing the story we had some idle chatter. After our conversations, she fell asleep. I guess running an organization would make anyone tired. That said, I hope Merlin does okay by himself. He seemed rather exhausted already. When the train finally arrived in London, I woke up Mordred. I learned very quickly that she wasn't the type of person who was in a good mood directly after waking up, so I did as I had promised earlier, and bought her a meal. She happily gorged herself on enough food—rather, nearly enough—to wipe out my savings.

After eating, we continued to the apartment by a cheaply hired wagon, since neither of us felt like walking the distance. She seemed used to the bustling streets of London, despite being out of her comfort zone. Though, nothing could prepare her for the surprise that was the old shoddy apartment we stayed in. She seemed particularly concerned by the state of our building, as it, in fact, looked like a crack den. The inside wasn't looking much better either, as the stairs were still rotting and the floorboards had some more rotted holes in them from what I first remember. Guess time did pass, huh. However, the living spaces were still nice and hospitable, so I couldn't complain. This building would never be sanctioned as livable in the modern day, but it still worked.

Opening the door of our apartment, I saw Scott, asleep on the couch. His left arm was still in a sling with a primitive cast, and his right hand was wrapped in bandages. All around him were empty bottles from before I had left, and various books strewn all over from when we had been doing research. Sauntering over to him, I slapped his good shoulder. In a state of panic, he opened his eyes before looking at me with a disbelieving and confused look.

"I didn't expect you to be back until tomorrow, you bastard. What are you doing back so early? Or… did I sleep for two days?" he asked as he rubbed the shoulder I just slapped against the couch. His expression was that of a confused sick puppy.

"Nope, it's the same day. Someone wanted to talk to you and insisted on coming urgently," I said, gesturing over my shoulder at Mordred and stepping to the side. She was standing in the doorway waiting to be welcomed in, despite me already showing her in. It was as if she was doing it just to be dramatic and make Scott uncomfortable.

Sitting up frantically, Scott began tidying up whilst continually locking eyes with Mordred. "Forgive my inhospitality… come in. I was unaware that you would be visiting, Mordred." His attempts to clean left an awkward wake in the air, as there was no way he could clean this up in a few seconds. Though I don't know why he bothers when Mordred's desk has an unkempt pile of random, possibly forgotten items stacked atop and beside it.

"You don't have to be so formal. I am simply here to inquire about Sir Micheal," Mordred said with a calm expression matching her voice. The last sentence echoed in Scott's ears for a moment, before he slowly turned his head towards me with a stupefied look. If I could read his mind, then I was sure it was something similar to, "What was the one thing I told you not to tell her, you dumbass cunt!" so awkwardly, I ambled into my room. Both Mordred and Scott eyed me with different disoriented expressions, as my door squeaked closed behind me.

Changing his expression to that of a businessman ready to strike a deal, Scott turned to face her. "I see, and what questions may I answer for you?" he asked with a casual smile that anyone who knew him well would know was fake.

"Why didn't you call for backup?" Mordred asked as a superior should. She seemed to actually act like a leader when it came down to it.

Sitting back against the soft back cushions of the couch, Scott let out a concerned sigh masked by his relaxed nature. "We weren't given enough time for backup to arrive after we learned an Elder One was behind the attacks. The Elder One also threatened to kill innocent civilians if we contacted the Table, so we had to make do," Scott answered honestly. Not only was it the reason, or at least one of them, for why we hadn't called for backup, but it was also a great excuse.

"I understand. However, I am still displeased. Now, do you know where Sir Micheal is or where he came from? Was there any information that could be gleaned from him?" Mordred asked with a disappointed look that only a mother could give. Her proud-toned figure guarded the doorway like a Sphinx.

Unfazed by her tactics, as he was too drunk to care, Scott shook his head in respectful irritation. "I knew you would probably want to know something like that, and the answer is I don't know. I was laying on the ground with several broken bones and severe internal damage. He appeared, defeated the Elder One's puppet, and disappeared over the bridge," Scott answered. Purposely leaving out the part about Iscariot speaking with Sir Micheal as a way to protect him from Mordred. Otherwise, he spoke the truth.

"I understand. If he said or did nothing else then there is little that can be done. As for the Elder One, I wish to inspect the body of the Elder One's puppet," Mordred said, relaxing her body enough to sit on the couch alongside Scott.

Rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand, he gave an embarrassed chuckle. "That may be a bit difficult," he said, before reaching down to the floor for one of the many half-drunk brown glass rum bottles.

"How so?" Mordred's brow furrowed, as she considered why that may be.

"We may have… thrown his body into the canal," Scott answered honestly. He didn't seem to care much about his actions, but it was far easier for him to forgo lying about it than going through the hassle of coming up with a believable excuse.

"What? Why?" Mordred asked in confused hysteria, as her jaw dropped. Blinking her eyes repeatedly, she was completely baffled by such an action.

"I didn't want to have to deal with all the paperwork the police were going to require me to fill out, and it's not something they need to know about," Scott replied, as he began to become more comfortable with this conversation due to the rum.

Shocked but not surprised, Mordred took in his response and collected herself. "I see… Well, I already received the report from Lou about the case. Including how he has learned how to use his ability to travel through time. Even so, I would like to hear it from your mouth as well. It just isn't something I am entirely convinced of."

"Of course," Scott said with a nod to Mordred, before turning towards the back of the apartment and yelling, "Lou, would you take Elysif to Monty's pub? I promised her I would treat her to dinner as thanks for her work, but it seems like I am going to be talking with Mordred for a while. There should be enough for you both in the envelope on the desk."

Leaving the room, I figured he just didn't want me here while they spoke, which I didn't mind at all. "Of course. You want us to bring something back for the two of you?" I asked as I sauntered towards the desk.

"No, we'll meet you there in a wee bit." Hearing this, I grabbed the envelope with a thank you, and headed downstairs.

As soon as I closed the door behind me, Scott calmly turned back to Mordred. "Where do you want me to begin?"

"Let's start with something simple. Is it possible for Lou to prevent my father or Silva from dying with his ability?" Mordred asked. Desperation accentuated her cheeks. Though Scott could tell that her desperation was similar to his own. He would do anything if it meant bringing back his wife, and Mordred would undoubtedly do the same for both her father and Silva.

"You sound like that masked Elder One," Scott said with a decisive look. Mordred gawked in offense from such a comparison. Though she recognized that his response was not made out of disrespect, but out of concern.

Reevaluating her question and what it may entail, she recognized that she was not incorrect in her line of questioning. Rather, Scott was being cautious, just as Silva had taught him. "I have no intention of forcing him, I simply wish to know if it can be done."

"I don't believe so. He had said that he can't use his ability if it affects his current or past self. Since your father dying was the driving force behind making the Table what it is today, and Lou is now an agent of the Table, I would say no, but you can ask him yourself," Scott answered honestly.

Her face grew somber. The exhaustion and weariness began to show in both her face and body. The thin but strong facade of control that Mordred continually held faded off for but a fleeting moment. "That was all I needed to hear. I was hoping that you would have said yes, but I will ask him personally and see whether I can have some hope once again."

Reaching out, Scott took her hand in comfort. He was one of the few people who would have loved to say it was possible, yet he also considered himself unworthy of such a blessing. "I am sorry." His words stung, causing his eyes to water. Turning with a sigh, he stood up from the couch. "Would you like some tea?"

"That sounds wonderful. Would you like any help?" Mordred asked. She wasn't entirely accustomed to being served. Usually, she was the one doing the serving due to how short the Table was on staff, so helping out was common practice. She could also tell that Scott was too injured to be able to do anything easily.

Taking the kettle from the counter with his free hand, Scott pulled off the lid before turning back to Mordred. "It would be much appreciated, and we can continue this chat. Would you grab the pitcher of water and fill up the kettle?" he asked, pointing toward a large pitcher on the far side of the counter. As she stood up to do so, Scott reached into the cabinet for some black tea.

Grabbing the pitcher, Mordred poured some of the contents into the kettle. Putting the pitcher back, she set the lid back on the kettle and rested it to the woodstove. "Now, what is your official report?" she asked, as she watched Scott measure out enough tea for the teapot.

Continuing to measure the tea, Scott began giving his report in simple bullet-point fashion, something Mordred had grown functionally accustomed to over the past few years. "Some women were murdered. Lou was captured and tortured for several weeks. Nothing interesting happened during that time otherwise. Then Lou showed up here nude and showed us how he could reform his limbs. He had gone to the future, came back, and we attempted to stop the Changeling or, Jack the Ripper. We failed. Two people were murdered. We were challenged by someone claiming to be Sir Micheal, who happened to also be Lou's kidnapper, an Elder One, and Jack the Ripper's boss. Fought him. Got our asses handed to us, and Sir Micheal defeated him. I was severely injured and everyone else left with barely a scratch."

It was a simplified version of Lou's report, so she nodded her head. However, it lacked some things that she believed were important. "That is rather vague."

"It is my official report," he said with a smug grin. Seeing as how she had the rest of the information from my reports, she let it go.

Having both made and served the tea, Mordred, and Scott sat in silence. Neither spoke, as neither had anything to say. They were simply enjoying the relaxing quiet, and thought to themselves. Mordred, having nothing better to do, looked over the room littered with rum bottles. Books on magic theory and mythology were scattered over every shelf, desk, and sill. The only spaces free of them were where people could sit and the counter.

"There is one thing that's been bothering me..." Scott finally said to break the silence.

"Yes?" Mordred replied curiously before sipping her tea. Trying not to point out his current living state, since she neither wanted to be a hypocrite, nor wanted him asking for a raise in order to better take care of the building.

"The Elder One controlling the puppet is still at large and will eventually reappear. However, the puppet had an item on him that I had assumed only the Table was in possession of," Scott said, insinuating she knew something about it.

Setting her tea down, Mordred furrowed her brow, confused. "And what might that be?" She asked, her stern demeanor returning ever so slightly, as if a defense mechanism.

"His robe. It was covered in runes that allowed him to absorb the energy of any physical attack and release it at will," Scott described with a vengeful sideways glance. Mordred's confused expression grew, so Scott began speaking again. "That kind of reminds me of Ragnar's enchanted shirt. The one in the Table's treasury. A dangerous tool that would be a great threat in the wrong hands," Scott finished. Concern was ripe behind his words, but he thinly veiled it with passive aggressiveness.

Picking her tea back up with a raised eyebrow, Mordred took a sip, and smiled in a polite manner. "Are you insinuating that this Elder One stole Ragnar's enchanted shirt from the Table itself? Or are you insinuating that this Elder One has already infiltrated the Table? Both of which are very unlikely," Mordred asked, wanting to make sure that Scott wasn't trying to create a scandal.

Placing his hand on his chest, Scott's mouth was agape in shock. Although he knew she meant nothing by it, he didn't like it when anyone doubted his loyalty. Acting offended would probably make her feel bad. "Nothing of the sort. I simply wish to know if it is replicable. You know that I am devoted to the Table." She didn't feel bad in the slightest.

Mordred gave him a thoughtful and sympathetic look. "It is not. Ragnar's shirt was created by a master of magic before the Round Table was founded. However, I will indulge you with a little bit of information to satisfy your curiosity."

"And what might that be?"

She let out an opposing and dissatisfied sigh. Although Mordred had just said she would tell him, she was having second thoughts. Mordred's shoulders slumped, her lips pursed. "As you know, the Table is rather low on funds at the moment. Even your own home has suffered because of this. If we had the funds, then we would have allotted some funds to have this place repaired. Because of our insufficient funds… we had to sell some of the items in the treasury," she said before turning away. Despite it being someone below her in rank within the Table, she hated having people point out her mistakes. She already knew that selling the items was going to be a mistake, but they needed the funds, and she was tired of only eating once or twice a week. All telling Scott did was make her more embarrassed about the decision.

"What? Do you have any idea how dangerous some of the items in the treasury are?" Scott asked judgmentally. He knew that she was his superior, but she was also similar to family, so he knew that she needed to be chewed out for something like selling the most dangerous magical items in existence.

"I know quite well how dangerous such items are…" Mordred began speaking complacently. Tensing up momentarily, she thought, before relaxing again. "… but we felt we had no other choice. Merlin and I had wanted to keep this classified, but I know how tight-lipped you can be. We had several of the Directors sell selected items at underground auctions, and it proved more than lucrative for the Table. Since then, we've been able to adjust our budget and manage the organization as a whole in a much better fashion. Sadly, I'm still eating a bare minimum. Being immortal has way more disadvantages than one would think," Mordred finished explaining with a regretfully awkward chuckle.

Neither said anything for nearly a minute. Mordred just sipped her tea, waiting for Scott's response while he thought about what she had said. With a sympathetic voice, Scott frowned. "I understand why you did it. The Table needs the funds and you need to eat. However, does this mean that you sold something as dangerous as Ragnar's enchanted shirt, as well as others, to some random people?"

"Yes, but you must understand that there are far more dangerous items within the treasury that we could never part with, for the sake of the world. That shirt, although precious, is not a large threat in comparison."

"That's a fair assessment. Though, on another matter, I must apologize for not taking the threat of Sir Micheal more seriously. After fighting an Elder One and witnessing Sir Micheal defeat him, I now understand why you are so afraid of such a being," Scott said, before drinking the last of his tea. Since he was finished, he reached for a rum bottle that sat on the side of the couch.

"Apology accepted. I had heard from Lou that you witnessed him kill the Elder One in a matter of minutes. It does not surprise me that much, as he has always been powerful. He was even able to take on my father, Arthur, as well as Merlin, both at once, and win," Mordred said in a way that almost sounded as if she were reminiscing her past with Sir Micheal in a good light. However, her calm nature drifted further into rage the more she thought about it.

The only thing left that he couldn't figure out about this whole ordeal was Sir Micheal's objective in all this. Why save them? If he was an enemy of the Table, then why bother stepping in in the first place? Was it out of moral obligation, happenstance, or something else entirely? Not knowing, he held up his rum bottle to the light, examining it for an unknown entity. "Do you know Sir Micheal's goal?" Scott asked.

"No, that has always been a mystery. He has appeared on a few occasions since he killed my father. Merlin has theorized that Sir Micheal is like him or myself, as we cannot age or die, so long as we aren't killed, due to Merlin's abilities being shared between us," she answered, as she had already thought about his goals many times herself. There was no motive that she could find from her knowledge of him. All she could do was continue to speculate.

"Perhaps, his objective is to destroy the Table, but can't challenge either you or Merlin yet?" Scott wondered aloud.

"I don't think so. Despite everything he has done, Sir Micheal ultimately produced a peaceful time for the Table nearly every time he has reappeared," Mordred said in a strange way, almost as if she didn't want to admit that. They both sat silent for a minute.

"Would you like something to eat? We could go meet Lou and Elysif at the pub," Scott asked to finally break the silence. Then, he followed it up with a large gulp from the bottle of rum he had.

"That sounds delightful. Though, I would like to avoid having this tea go to waste," Mordred said, trying to hide her desire for food by being polite. In truth, she had been hoping to eat some more while here.

"As you wish," Scott replied, before taking a swig from the bottle once more. The two sat and enjoyed the silence. Their worries seemed to fade away with every sip taken from their respective drinks. Moments like this were rare to them, and they wanted to enjoy every second of it. However, upon finishing her tea, Mordred held out her hand to Scott.

"May I perhaps have some of that? I could use a little," Mordred said with an embarrassed look. She tended to avoid drinking alcohol, especially at times like this, but she really wanted to sate her old habit. With an amused, somewhat surprised chuckle, Scott shook his head and handed the bottle to her.

To Be Continued…