《The Facility of Myth Reduction》


 Book 1 Ch 1: Blood, Flesh and Prayer

    Blood and prayers filled the now-empty stone temple that had become filled with charred human flesh and bone. A lone old man stood in front of an ancient humanoid in betrayal of the rules of his community as twin teardrops fell down his ash covered face. He would soon be filled with pain at the cost of his self-sacrifice and he did not know if his soul would be taken but at this point, the man no longer cared.


    In a way he was thankful that his village had been wiped out, nobody was left alive to observe his degeneration into heresy. His promised afterlife was no longer within his reach. Not when his soul was devoured.


    But he would gladly welcome damnation in return for the granting of a single wish. He went onto his hands and knees among the dirt and the guano and lowered his head so it touched the floor.


    ¡®Defiler of form. I offer myself to you as a sacrifice of my own will. I only ask that you take my strength and punish my enemies. My blood, flesh, mind, and soul are yours ancient one.¡¯


    The creature that had once thought of itself as a living god before it had been near-starved and reduced to a base state animalistic state for at least hundreds of years began to slowly reawaken.


    I¡­.hear¡­.I¡­..smell¡­.I¡­..listen.


    Shards of expression shot through the mind of the man who had long fallen to the floor. Froth coming from his mouth as his eyes and skin melted and slipped into the mouth of the waiting statue. He was suffering either agony or ecstasy but it was too late to tell.


    A form appeared in the before the time-worn face of the statue. Eyes and a mouth. One yellow and one green with a mouth that was simply an absence of space. The mouth as it was creased into a smile as the consciousness of the living god began to return.


    I¡­.awaken¡­..I¡­..I¡­..will grant your wish. Here-tic.


    To kill those who tried to kill you. The creature understood this concept very well, its mind gradually becoming sharper and more aware with direct interaction with sentient flesh and bone as it flowed into the mouth of the worn statue. The features were hard to make out clearly as they began to flow from male to female and then in-between.


    Revenge. Death and pain upon your enemies. Yessss¡­.


    If the man had still remained lucid the words that it made would have sickened him to his core. He was breaking every single belief that his tribe held all for the sake of revenge, it was the only sane choice that he could have made when his small world had become insane.


    The being that was living god was more akin to an animal than a sentient humanoid. It had been starved for close to a millennia and hidden away inside this remote jungle temple. The only ones who had interacted had taken on the roles of both carers and wardens with each generation educated to fulfil the role when they died of old age in turn.


    The old man saw a living god for the first and last time in his three or so decades of life. He had entered the shrine inside the cave with only his prayers and the remains of his tattered clothing on his body. Blood slowly dripped from his eyes as they were altered into new eyes better equipped for the dark night. They narrowed and shifted, as they reformed.


    He knew his remaining life span was being rapidly consumed in order to fuel the change but it was not out of malice or hatred. A fish would swim, a bird would fly and the being trapped within the depths of stone and prayer existed to mutate and adapt all forms of flesh, blood and sinew.


    One¡­final¡­blessing. I give you the opportunity to remember. Your thoughts will flow into me as your last enemies become mine.


    Time. The god did give the man one kindness, out of a sense of humour or because it had forgotten the strength of a human form, but it allowed his mind to think back, to recollect his decision and actions that had led to this point.


    A single statue untouched by time, dust or moisture stood within. Light in colour with the roughly hewn shape of a humanoid figure who stood with arms crossed on its chest. A faint glow appeared as any living creature approached and then retreated. No insects or other creatures had marred the grace of the carefully cut stone. Any form of guano or droppings was avoided despite the mess on the surfaces of the temple.


    The man recalled how the evil ones who had come to his isolated village had thought him dead amongst his friends and family, but he alone had survived. His method caused him severe grief. To be a lone survivor was not to be a hero, nor was it a mark of success. He had failed his family, his tribe, and his entire village in the pursuit of greed. It had been he who had revealed the location of the temple to the outsiders in the firm belief in their promise to remove the statue and release everyone he knew from eternal service.


    In short, he wanted to be a hero that would be recognised and lead the village into a new future, free of otherworldly concerns. He wanted to once more become the young man that had wanted to destroy the temple but had been too afraid at the time to approach by himself.


    He had met the outsiders when he had been scouting a fair distance from the hidden village. Despite being deep within a jungle forest there were deserts beyond that were reachable within several days¡¯ journey. Oasis there offered the opportunity to find palm dates and other types of meat that were unattainable in the immediate surrounding forest. His caution and stealth had enabled him to observe a medium group of outsiders who were well-equipped and armed at least from his perspective.


    Over several days he had carefully hidden in the surrounding vegetation and listened to their chatter and bickering. Their words too rapid for him to fully understand but he was able to pick out several phrases repeated over and over.


    He was able to learn that they were searching and become increasingly frustrated as a result with their lack of success.


    The only time they were silent was when they were given direct instructions larger older heavily muscled man who had tasked them with searching the surrounding areas before returning in the evening and drawing in the dirt rough locations that he recognised.


    Listening to their talking he realised that several of them were able to speak and be understood in the same language as him. They were not of his tribe but removed, as though they had learnt second-hand.


    Even their writing was the same. It sounded strange to his ears but understandable. Realising his courage he called out and approached those few and the leader swiftly turned in his direction, one hand on a modified handgun resting in a leather holster and the other upon a sharp parang blade.


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    Weapons had initially been raised but the leader swiftly put a stop to any act of violence toward the man.


    Instead, the strong leader held out his arms as though greeting long-lost friend and in the broken version of the same language called him into the camp to eat and drink with them.


    He would be a guest and they would follow rules of sanctuary and protection for as long as he chose to give them the pleasure of his company. The older man hesitated before he stepped out into the open, revealing his appearance which drew more than a few murmurs before the leader swiftly silenced them with a harsh gaze.


    ¡®Enemy. Not yours. I¡¯m not fighting. Please respect me.¡¯


    The strong man patted the side of his waist where a sharp blade hung from his belt before he nodded and bowed respectfully towards the older man.


    The act was appreciated but his accent was atrocious. To him it came across as either heavily practised or he had been given the ability to speak sentences and his tongue was forced to speak them. The old man despite his relative isolation was aware of sufficient levels of current technology in the greater world, the words spoken were not actively from a machine voice.


    No. The muscled leader had either been taught or trained to talk, still, his manner of speech was strange. The words were understood but they sounded out with a wrongness to his ears. Artificial. Still, the old man had heard enough stories and ventured to the hidden temple to know that magic could be a real force.


    The old man stood proudly. Lines and tanned skin belied his lean body despite his age and mainly grey hair.


    ¡®You ask for peace? You who bear weapons and clearly show signs of experiencing combat?¡¯


    He directly fixed his eyes upon those of the muscled leader. The other one might be strong but the outsiders had always had a reliance on technology. Always did and always would.


    The leader turned towards a thinner man who translated his words directly. This time the words came clearer, slightly archaic, but still understandable.


    ¡®Peace upon a fellow traveller. Our weapons are for protection. Please let me show you our hospitality and¡­and¡­¡¯


    The one trying to translate as his leader continued to gesture with his hands and talk stumbled on the word for a moment before he tapped his cheek with a rough finger.


    ¡®Generous. Yes, we are generous to our new friend. Peace upon you.¡¯


    He held out his arms in a sign of welcome before he noticed the hesitation from the older man and beckoned a younger soldier to come over to his direction. He then unbuckled his weapons hanging from his belt and handed them over to the younger man before he made a sweeping motion with his hand dismissing him.


    ¡®Old man, Please, peace with us. Eat and drink and only talk. No¡­violent on you.¡¯


    The older man felt that the words of the leader sounded strange, as though his tongue had been forced to speak them or he was simply out of practice.


    He stepped forward again, this time with a smile on his face. Outsiders or not, the smell of the meat cooking inside smelled delicious to him. He was unable to control his own appetite it seemed. His own hidden community was self-sufficient but lacked in modern conveniences.


    Food and drink had been shared, along with laughter and fruit juices to sooth tired throats and the leader of the outsiders talking through the translators told him that they knew of the burden that the village had suffered.


    His own attempts at further language came across as strangled in his throat. His emotions at finally being able to release the burden that generations of his ancestors had held on was almost brining tears to his eyes.


    ¡®I, yes. I welcome your hospitality and offer of peace. We will have no violence.¡¯


    The old man put down his own weapon, it was hidden within his clothing, a sharp blade with a blunt end. He would have to remember to not let any of them touch it due to the poison that had been applied. Even a small misunderstanding would mean that he would need to kill as many of them as possible before retreating.


    There were many hidden traps within their surroundings that were checked on a weekly basis and environmental hazards designed to kill the unwary. As long as the raiders remained in their camp they would be safe.


    He made sure that his weapon was sheathed and placed it on the ground.


    ¡®Peace upon fellow travellers. Tell me, are you perhaps lost?¡¯


    The old man failed to see the smile on the face of the muscled leader who allowed his head to bow forward in recognition and respect as he gestured towards those who were able to translate his language in greater clarity.


    They came forward and sat a respectable distance from the old man, they were dressed even closer in style to himself. He recognised them as outcasts, or the children or those cast out from the greater tribe. They hadn¡¯t died after all although their memories of the specific location and details of what was truly guarded in the temple would have been removed.


    Their capacity for language and culture remained the same. Out of respect the old man sat and listened, he looked towards the muscular leader who made sure that they were given sufficient privacy as the raiders stepped back several metres out of heaving distance.


    ¡®Talk.¡¯


    The raiders had told them that they were there to relieve them of their curse and offer support. The man understood after a point that they talked of a prison, a place to keep the evils of the world locked away from harming humans. They had promised the spirit in the statue would cause him and the villagers no harm once they had removed it and taken it far from this place.


    ¡®You have told them our secrets? You choose to fail in your duty despite your outcast status?¡¯


    ¡®We did not speak. They knew. None here talked but they still knew wise warrior.¡¯


    ¡®I do not want your flattery but the truth. Blood yourselves, show me you still respect the sacrifices made for your lives. For mine.¡¯


    Previously any who had arrived in the village who had been an outsider had simply been directed towards the temple and the wealth of treasure that was considered to be there. To be able to speak the same language as them was a rarity but it was not unexpected. If they were instead interested in the cultural value, they were again directed. Otherwise, they were given a sleeping draught and then thrown inside the temple once deeply unconscious.


    For those who were more aware there was always the standard course of food, drink or odourless smoke that was used on the most suspicious types.


    After they had entered the region of the temple with a lack of any protection that only the villagers themselves were disinclined to share strange sounds would echo before swiftly falling silent. Then when it was the right time, they would clear out the bones and bury any objects or personal possessions that remained behind.


    They had seen enough travellers over the long millennia that technology and advancements held little interest for them. It was only their role to guard and protect the spirit within the temple from accessing the outside world.


    It was early in the morning, far earlier than any would-be awake that the armed band of outsiders snick into the temple site under the instructions of the villager who had led them in silently without disturbing or waking any animal or human. The only one fully aware of their presence was the old man, confident in his actions.


    ¡®Come. This path is safe. Do not step out of the boundaries that I¡¯ve marked. You will suffer.¡¯

 Book 1 Ch 2: The Coward

    His words were carried along by the two translators who accompanied the raiders, none of them had been permitted to carry firearms nor any bladed weapons. To remove a statue would not take weapons, he had been surprised that the muscular leader had agreed but it had set his kind at ease.


    This was his territory, he knew the hidden paths and traps and caches of weapons. Even without a blade he still had several pouches of powders and dust which could blind a person permanently.


    ¡®Ah, I missed that one. Please tell the foolish ones that they are quite safe as long as they cease all movement. Once their friends have pulled them out then we can all begin our journey. Remember, follow where I walk.¡¯


    He failed to notice the glances sent in his direction from the muscular leader.


    He had used a far smaller amount of sleeping draught in the communal food to make sure that everyone slept an hour or two more than normal.


    The old man became filled with regret at this memory but as his soul was slowly devoured and the living god inside the statue absorbed his essence his memories continued to flow. Revenge would be his, even at this cost. He could not turn back time but he could focus further on the target of his revenge, the raiders. His death was assured, theirs would surely follow.


    By equipping themselves with the same methods that the villagers used to approach and clean the temple and statue surroundings they had been able to remove the large stone carving without mishap. It was due to the elders trying to intervene in what they considered their sacred duty being interfered with and the warnings that became legends of the dangers that would be at risk to the outside world and humanity at large.


    The violent men and women had turned on the villagers when they had tried to block their exit once they had secured the statue. The atmosphere had heated up and arguments quickly became bloodshed when the leader of the raiders cut down the elder blocking his path, soaking the ground with her blood, and causing those nearby to scream in terror.


    Covering himself with the blood of his family as they were killed within their homes, he cursed himself for his cowardice. His friends and his neighbours had been bludgeoned and hacked to death. They had been told to leave their homes or the buildings would be set on fire and the entrances would be barred and they would suffer a worse death by fire and smoke.


    The well was the only part of the village that hadn¡¯t been contaminated by blood, fire, and destruction. The middle-aged man was able to clean himself and quench his thirst with cold water that washed away the taste of ashes from his mouth.


    Only he had been left with nothing, they had killed, burnt, and taken anything of value and ruined the rest. The man remembered the stories that his father and grandfather had told him. The main reason for the relative isolation of their village from the rest of the world is the harsh environments close to the deserts. They had thought themselves safe from the violence of the outside world, but war and conflict had made the world a smaller place.


    The task that they had been set by their ancestors was simple. If any of the villagers heard any traces of a whispering voice in the air they were to gather together at the site of the old temple and pray to a particular statue. There was no trace of answer or response from the whispering sounds, but the villagers would place several different animals in cages made out of wooden materials, bound by vines in front of the ancient pristine statue and then remove their presence.


    All villagers would show their respects and then immediately leave the isolated temple and remove themselves to a set distance. Then they would resume their lives of rearing small animals, repairing homes and organising food stocks.


    Occasionally the elders of the tribe would pass down the stories at festivals to carry on the culture and understanding of the necessity of why the villagers needed to remain. Their role was to protect the outside world from the being that dwelt within the statue.


    After a week or so, the bravest and strongest villagers, both male and female would enter the temple site to clear the area in front of the statue. There would be no sign of the original animals and only remnants of the broken wooden cages. Bones of varying shapes and sizes that showed traces of melting and melding into strange new forms were removed and then broken into dust to be applied to the crops of the village. No questions were asked.


    Occasionally a young man or woman, barely out of their teens would question the life of living in an isolated village and seek the wider world. They were given a task by the elders of the tribe to attempt to break the statue and release the villagers from their age-old task.


    The individual who entered the cave was never seen again but sounds that would not come from a human throat were heard shortly before the villagers understood that they had failed in their task. There was one particular safe way to enter the temple and only for short periods in an emergency.


    All members of the village were told to beware of the temple but that the spirit that dwelled within the statue would be willing to answer prayers. It was not a forgiving being though and the method of repayment would not always be the one that you wanted.


    He had not been told the name of the god but only that it remained alive as so many gods had been removed from the world. To see a god in the flesh was to lose your existence, the man had been warned when he was younger only to approach the shrine in times of dire emergency.


    Also, it would be better for him to use a stranger. He chose himself as a cost instead. There were no other options in the burnt-out ruins of his now-destroyed village. Perhaps if he had been brave or capable enough, he might have been able to capture one of the raiders after they had been drunk and full of bloodlust during the post-destruction and the capture of their goal.


    He dragged himself into the temple, each foot dragging behind a trail of blood that was not his own but that of his family. He had no animals in cages with him as the raiders had taken them for their food supplies. The smaller cages filled with colourful birds had been smashed and broken apart. The pure sound of deathly silence and crackling flames were the only sounds that hit his ears. The screams and cries of the rest of the village had long become quietened.


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    When the god within the statue finally emerged from the darkness and answered his prayers the mind of the man shattered and collapsed, and his blood bubbling with rich, heat began to pool on the floor of the ancient temple.


    The smell was warm and faintly of metal. It was unfortunate that the man never got to see exactly how his prayers were answered in full but his enemies, the raiders who had lied to steal from his home village, suffered and ended up becoming far less than human in divine punishment.


    The raiders who were laughing in their camp on the edge of the desert did not realise the retribution that was coming their way. It was the leader who first began to feel the changes within. At first, he thought that the alcohol that they had stolen from the last village had gone bad, either that or the grains and meat that they had taken had mixed with the blood of the animals that they had slaughtered for their celebratory feast.


    The mission had been successful and the pay-out from the client would be enough for all of them to finally choose a life of retirement and a way out of the mercenary world. All they were waiting for was the strang stone statue to be collected and removed. For something that was meant to be so old as though it had been newly built and polished.


    The whole process of removing it from the temple had been a headache though. If all of the inhabitants had slept longer and not challenged them with weapons the situation would not have gotten out of control, and nobody need have died.


    There was a tiny sound in the air that all were able to hear. A hushed whispering noise spoken from ancient, cracked lips made dry from the lack of moisture in the air. The lack of response from the raiders came from the sheer amounts of alcohol and adrenaline developed from the satisfaction of bloodlust and bounty that made them unaware. It was ignored.


    The strongest member of the raider group first heard the soft undertones of the voice. He was a strong man covered in scars and muscle, although some parts of his body were shifting into fat as he reached his fourth decade of life. He still maintained enough control and direct authority over the group that his orders were followed.


    The voice from the statue reached him initially. Either he was being targeted deliberately or he was unlucky enough to be chosen. A desperate prayer was answered. He grabbed his head, but he found that his hands had begun to shift, fingers melding and hardening as his torn clothing began to fall off his body.


    Dropping to the ground he tried to let out a scream but the only sounds that came out were the  of a newly born animal.


    ¡®Meeeehhh.¡¯


    ¡®Meeeeeeeeeeehhhh.¡¯


    Yeeesss¡­.the flesh and blood¡­become. Interlopers. Become and reduce. My gift. My divine punishment.


    Next, his legs and lower body shortened into hooves, the flesh becoming twisted and bones melting together.


    The rest of the band of around twenty froze in amazement as their leader transformed in the space of a dozen heartbeats into something less than human. Not a pure animal but an abomination of nature, a form produced through madness and magic. They froze in horror and their bodies refused to move as their minds broke apart in turn.


    My¡­response to the request of the faithful.


    Sometimes, death was not the worst that could happen. The life of a beast was a hard and often brutal one, but mercifully short. The pain and agonies of transformation became a lifetime of suffering for the raiders who were being changed on the lowest genetic level although they still retained their intellect and sentient awareness.


    The other raiders began to transform in turn, each one taking a different shape as their clothes, in turn, tore open and bones stuck out from raw flesh. Eyeballs melted and slid down into newly formed orbital sockets as skulls shifted downwards on their forms.


    ¡­.An old design but it works..yessss¡­.


    By the main campfire, a single being stood as the mutations continued throughout the raider¡¯s camp. Twisted forms are framed in deep shadow by the flickering fire and other sources of light.


    Sounds torn from throats no longer human-created an impression of a herd of animals struggling in their birth into new life forms. The process destroyed the minds and hearts of the humans before they swiftly died upon full transformation.


    Blessed. My blessings on this group.


    The living god smiled. The sacrifice wasn¡¯t necessary, but when called upon for divine retribution it had fulfilled a final prayer from one of the last remaining faithful. It remembered Oannes, the testing had worked well with that one before it had escaped. If anything it had been too successful, intelligent enough to hide and pass on the teachings that it had learnt. Thankfully the lifespan of the fish creature was heavily reduced. The other god of cleansing water had not been pleased that one of its priests had been used but the results spoke for themselves.


    This time it was unsuccessful with its experiments. It could have been the quality of the stock, these humans were malnourished and lacked sufficient growth potential. Creating a chimaera took more effort than it had originally thought, their souls would remain as useful fuel though, it would make good use of them.


    The flames of the campfire flickered before slowly dying out as sand began to fly in the near darkness and reduced the flames into grey charred ash. Torn and ripped clothing was left abandoned in the wake of the fury of the annoyed god.


    No footsteps were left behind in the shifting sand. Time passed onwards. The only remains of the raiders were their abandoned guns and ammunition left on the ground by the now rapidly decaying organic forms that had once been homo sapiens. This time there were no broken cages left behind. The broken weapons sank deeply into the ground.


    The living god  far into the distance, far beyond any mortal eyes could see and saw entire cities filled with vibrant life, music, and bright lights. There it would find more potential subjects. The sculptor of flesh and creator of new life had woken again from its millennia-long sleep.


    The night itself shivered in fear. Silence ensued afterwards once the screams of the flesh changed had died and a single man standing by himself walked forward towards the statue with outstretched arms and a smile on his face, the purple scarfwrapped around his neck flapped in the desert winds.


    You¡­..? Whhhhy can¡¯t I see you?


    The distant sound of a helicopter was heard off in the distance.


    ¡®Welcome blessed one. You will not harm the crew or myself. Be at rest and sleep for now, for our work will soon begin.¡¯


    The young man simply smiled and placed a tanned, manicured hand on the surface of the statue. If the sounds of the transformed mercenaries had disturbed him, he showed little sign.


    ¡®Sleep ancient one. We will talk when time permits.¡¯

 Book 1 Ch 3: Arrested

    ¡®Concrete walls and floor, check. The smell of coffee and cheap vape smoke, check.¡¯


    Inside a blue-walled interrogation room, a young man with brown hair and an unusual white streak in the front was sitting in a metal chair. He was in his early twenties at most, but his grey eyes and youthful features had an almost timeless quality about them. His fingers were lightly running across the arms of the chair as it felt cold and sterile to the touch.


    He was currently  the room to see if he could distract his mind by thinking about what he could see. Presently he was running through a checklist of standard features for a standard police interrogation room and quietly murmuring to himself. It would be a recognisable tactic for someone who was trying to stay calm in a difficult situation.


    ¡®¡­Cheap wooden table pinned to the floor, check. Belongings were removed from me and bagged before entering the room, check. Two lightweight aluminium chairs, check. Cheap painted walls, check. Double mirror on the wall, check. Hidden camera, check.¡¯


    The police officers who had brought in the young man hadn¡¯t said a single word to him since they had removed him from the convenience store where he had been browsing the sweet snacks section. His attempt at discussion had been politely rebuffed with a shake of the head but he had not been read his rights.


    The young man had been escorted into the room while being held in both arms by two armed uniformed police officers who let go once, he had been put into the back of the police vehicle which had been removed once they had entered the interrogation room and then one of them brushed off one of the seats as if to invite him to sit down before they left the room.


    The entire process had been quite short and there was no case of booking him into the police station. The desk sergeant on duty had not recorded his arrival and any further police officers at their desks or leaving the station had only glanced at him before turning away. He was especially good at recognising details, he recognised that all of the police personnel that he had seen so far had expressed a sense of tenseness in their body language. When he had been escorted past normal conversation resumed again but he hadn¡¯t been focusing on any of the spoken words.


    What surprised the young man is that they both left the door unlocked after they had left the room. Not a single word was exchanged, and neither was he stopped from leaving.


    He had tried his best during the whole ordeal to express a sense of non-hostility in both his body language and the expression on his face. Thanking the police officers for their time and consideration he  before taking a seat by  facing the door.


    It was only himself in an empty clean but sterile room. He felt a little bit disappointed that nothing else had happened, usually in crime stories he would be left alone in a locked room before a pair of detectives came in and began questioning him.


    ¡®Concrete floor, check, secure unlocked door, check. Embedded lights in the ceiling and edges of the room, check.¡¯


    He raised his head as he heard a sound coming from outside of the room. It sounded like someone talking, but he couldn¡¯t quite make out the conversation. He was able to work out that it was several people talking, perhaps it was the police discussing with a senior officer.


    The young man was slightly annoyed but not overly worried about the situation. He had been picked up when he was walking back home from university. The police officers had been rather surprised at his lack of reaction to their presence and the fact that he had put both hands in front of him as though expecting to be handcuffed before he was put into a police car and driven to this particular station.


    He was presently wondering why they hadn¡¯t handcuffed his hands to the table in the room before he heard a sound outside of the door. Given the silence in the room, it was likely that he would soon have a visit from a police officer or several.


    That would be a standard tactic of the police forces and an interrogation in general. Torture did not produce the results that were wanted and even though he was located in a major city governed by a democratic legislative process it remained a minor possibility.


    Next, he heard the sound of a pair of boots thudding on the floor. A rush of air came into the room as a middle-aged woman walked in. She was dressed in a dark leather jacket, trousers, shirt, and matching heavy boots. If another person saw her, they might feel that she was a woman growing older that felt the need to younger. Either that or they would stare at eye-patch before trouble began.


    She was in her thirties at most her matt black hair was cut short with one side shaved closer. One of her eyes was a light green while the other was covered in a red eyepatch. It made an interesting contrast; Duke was unable to help himself before his eyes dropped to the table in front of him. He had no idea why someone would want to dress up in a black leather jacket unless they wanted to  tough. She might take offence if he chose to stare at her eyepatch, so he tried to avert his gaze towards the floor and continue counting the items that made up a police interrogation room in his mind.


    He continued to murmur to himself. ¡®One person of authority here to ask questions, check.¡¯ Speaking these words so softly to himself just under his breath that it would have been impossible for an average human to hear the sound of his voice.


    ¡®Hello, Duke.¡¯ She grinned with a toothy smile. Aside from the sound of him breathing softly, it was all that could be heard inside the room.


    Soundproofed walls, check.


    Duke chose not to respond. It would be better if he let her start the conversation so that she could ask her questions and he could work out the appropriate responses that would cause the least amount of conflict. Sometimes, he said something that would rub a person the wrong way. Not on purpose but his very nature seemed to encourage conflict with others just through a few words, he was trying his best to become a better person though. It was hard work so far, but he hadn¡¯t made another person angry in several months at his workplace in the museum.


    To make the situation come across as easier in his head Duke began to re-run through his checklist of the room in his mind. Everyone had their coping mechanisms for stressful situations, and this was one of his.


    No police officers, un-check.


    The woman didn¡¯t seem taken aback by the lack of response from the young man despite her greeting. Her grin grew even wider. It seemed wrong somehow, as though he was seeing a cat that enjoyed seeing a mouse that it wanted to toy with. He had read about that type of expression in a book with a cat and a lost girl called Alice. A funny-coloured cat had grinned before it vanished, the woman¡¯s smile reminded him of that picture. He wondered if the woman would vanish before his eyes as well.


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    ¡®Lucky. Do you think that you¡¯re lucky?¡¯


    The woman asked him while looking straight into the double mirror that was part of the wall on the side. She started to scuff one of her boots along the floor making a dragging noise on the hard concrete floor. The noise echoed in the room.


    ¡®Duke, I asked you a question.¡¯


    The metal chair opposite mine, check.


    Keeping to his policy of refusing to respond until he was clearer on the situation, Duke kept his mouth shut. The best option when in police custody was to keep quiet first, also he didn¡¯t want to create an awkward situation where he commented on her appearance and caused accidental insult.


    The woman didn¡¯t choose to sit down in the opposite chair but continued to stand by the open interrogation room door instead. She looked down at the young man sitting down before leaning back against the door and crossing her legs. Her black boots looked heavy and strong, and she continued to scuff one along the floor. Duke looked at her boots a bit more, strong, they looked good and strong. He supposed that she enjoyed walking a great deal.


    ¡®Would you like anything to eat or drink?¡¯ spoke the woman.


    Duke felt surprised at the gentle tone. She didn¡¯t come across as a police officer, given that she wasn¡¯t wearing the uniform of one. A plain-clothes detective then, it would make sense regarding her appearance. Duke thought that she might have lost her eye in the line of duty. Or an accident involving a game of pool. A mystery that had nothing to do with him.


    Her tough appearance didn¡¯t match the tone of her voice. Strange, she was trying to rile him, to increase his emotional range beyond what he was comfortable with.


    He struggled to think of a decent response. People skills weren¡¯t his strong point, he wasn¡¯t bad at making friends but occasionally he would say the wrong thing and accidentally upset people. He decided that his best option right now was to sit down in the same chair indicated by the police officer, put his hands on his lap and sit with his back straight. A firm, but open-to-listening pose.


    He stopped gazing at her black boots and tried to avoid looking directly at the red eyepatch she wore over one eye. She might consider it offensive. Best to focus on the space directly above her head.


    ¡®¡­I don¡¯t know.¡¯ He said uncommitted. ¡®I don¡¯t  much when I eat or drink.¡¯


    If the woman heard the strangeness of his answer, she ignored it and carried on with her questioning tone.


    ¡®Did the police treat you nicely? Did they bother you in any way?¡¯


    ¡®No¡¯ Duke replied. ¡®They didn¡¯t talk. Nor were they hostile towards me in any form. I expressed my gratitude for their hard work and tried my best to be a model prisoner.¡¯


    ¡®A prisoner? The woman clicked her tongue. ¡®Oh, you aren¡¯t a prisoner. I¡¯d like your help. It¡¯s good that you know how to play with others.¡¯


    Duke frowned at that. If he felt confused, then he would show it on his face.


    ¡®You know, you ought to smile more. Being blunt to people doesn¡¯t lead to good results.¡¯


    Her grin wavered for a moment as her face became sterner in appearance.


    ¡®Yes. Thank you. I¡¯ll try and remember that.¡¯ Responded Duke. He sat up straight in his seat and gave her the brightest and happiest smile that he remembered seeing from a recording of video and images.


    ¡®Someone has done a brilliant job training and conditioning you. Haven¡¯t they? Either that or you¡¯ve self-taught yourself to respond to human responses in the right way. You do have a nice smile, and very clean teeth.¡¯


    ¡®Yes, ma¡¯am. Thank you for your compliment, ma¡¯am.¡¯


    He had the sudden thought that the woman knew about the rules that he was meant to follow. One of them had been not to talk about the rules it had been repeated twice by his mentor. He decided that it would be best not to talk about anything to her but to continue being polite and concise.


    Still, he felt something odd about this whole experience. If he wasn¡¯t under arrest, then why did the police need to handcuff him and bring him to the police station? An interrogation room was for criminals who were meant to confess their crimes. He didn¡¯t think that browsing for a chocolate bar of his choice in a convenience store would be considered a crime. Unless he stole it on purpose which he had not.


    The woman stepped up beside the interrogation room door and placed her hand on the metal handle. The door had been left open when the police officers had escorted Duke into the room, and it was presently attached to the wall with a magnetic lock.


    ¡®Would you prefer if the door is open or closed?¡¯


    Duke hesitated for a moment trying to think of the right answer before he opened his mouth. His answer ideally would placate her.


    ¡®¡­I don¡¯t have a preference thank you, ma¡¯am.¡¯


    This time . Her sudden shift in her facial expression made him feel uncomfortable. Had Duke made a serious error in social judgment again? He didn¡¯t want to ask the Professor for help. Not this time.


    He thought that he had said the wrong thing and that she would get annoyed as a result. He tried hard to remember the social rules that he had been taught, offending her wouldn¡¯t lead to a good situation.


    ¡®I don¡¯t like that you think that being non-committal is going to get any results.¡¯


    ¡®Ma¡¯am?¡¯


    Her grin faded away and she crossed her arms clenching her hands into fists. She stood firm by the open door. He tried to read her body language but found it difficult to work it out, she was either angry or frustrated. It was more likely that he had offended her in some way.


    ¡®Would you like some police officers to come in here and shout at you? Waving their hands, hitting the table, and getting angry. Does that sound good to you? It¡¯s easy to arrange.¡¯


    She waved her hands around in the air in front of her as though to show him an example of how an angry person of authority would behave in front of him. Duke felt confused at the display, he registered her actions as hostile but not with any actual intent behind them. Facial expressions and body language remained hard for him to process.


    ¡®We¡¯ve had reports coming in. From several different alleys in the next district across from the museum. Disturbing reports. The police called us to investigate because they¡¯d never come across cases like this. They feel disgusted even. Crimes against the natural order I heard one of them say.¡¯


    The young man dropped his gaze to the table. He found  people in the eyes for too long  uncomfortable experience. It was always harder to read their emotions and body language when you felt your soul was being stared into. He had to follow the rules that the professor had laid out for him. He owed her. She had saved him.


    ¡®Boy. ..¡¯

 Book 1 Ch 4: Real Magic

    Duke paused for a moment, glancing at the woman again after she spoke his face showed surprise at the words of the middle-aged woman and realised that something was wrong with her.


    She had done something earlier when she had scuffed her boots on the floor, but he had been so focused on her face and body language that he hadn¡¯t paid attention to her feet. The air felt colder for a moment, his breath increased slightly when he finally noticed it.


    Magic. Real-life magic. The rules guide me. Cheers mum.


    It was her black leather boots; they weren¡¯t touching the ground but floating above it slightly. Her feet weren¡¯t touching the ground. His breath sharpened as he breathed in hard, and his hands felt sweaty for a moment as he wondered how she did that trick. Something softly stroked his mind as though to calm him down. A simple magic trick, nothing to be impressed by came a feeling from deep within him. His breath slowed, realising that whatever trick the woman had used to levitate it was still nothing special. Until she began to float around the concrete floor.


    The rules. Follow the rules. Duke firmly told himself. He needed to keep a firm grasp on reality. To panic was to create fear, and that led to unintended consequences. A normal person would show signs of panic and gasp at this point. He felt a sense of curiosity and a vague familiarity. It reminded him of


    Duke instead smiled at the woman. He tried his best to come across as a personable and friendly human being. If he did that then she wouldn¡¯t become annoyed and this whole matter would be dealt with promptly. At times like this, he wishes that his mentor was still around, but she had left some time ago.


    The woman showed traces of annoyance on her face at the lack of reaction from the young man. She decided to try a different approach to see if it would shake him up and get a decent reaction.


    ¡®Would you like to know a secret Duke?¡¯


    He responded calmly with a toothless smile on his face. With his hands resting on his lap he tried his best to portray a relaxed and comfortable posture.


    ¡®No, thank you, ma¡¯am.¡¯


    ¡®You really should know it. A closed mind is like a book that has never been read before.¡¯


    ¡®I do not know that phrase but I will try and remember it for the future. Thank you ma¡¯am.¡¯


    ¡®How about we bring in a few friends to join you as well? Marcus and Zarisa. They seem to be good friends of yours.¡¯


    Duke stiffened at the sound of the strange woman saying their names. His hands clenched into fists, but he tried to regulate his breathing slowly to keep calm and stop his face from showing any traces of anger. Although he followed certain rules it didn¡¯t mean that he entirely lacked emotion. His colleagues, whom he supposed were also his friends were several people aside from his mentor who was able to tolerate him.


    The rapid movement and physical reaction of the young man did not go unnoticed by the woman in the black jacket. Her feet softly touched the ground making concrete dust rise into the air.


    Duke stared at her eyepatch, attempting to control himself better. The shape and design of it made him feel annoyed, as though he wanted to change it, his heart rate increased as he began focusing more on it. He felt something from the eyepatch, a noise that only he could hear. A small voice that resonated with him asking for an unknown favour.


    It angered him as though he was being taunted by an unknown voice that he couldn¡¯t hear property aside from a sarcastic tone. The voice continued to try and plead with him, not through words or thoughts but shards of emotions. His anger gradually increased although he was extremely careful not to let it show on his face. These were not his emotions but an outside force trying to influence him.


    ¡®It seems a shame to have all those police waste their energy just for one person. did you know that your friends are currently under police custody? Guilty by association with you. All it takes from me is a single word and you could all have a new experience of harsh police methods. No physical violence though, not yet anyway.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t like you.¡¯ He replied. Trying his best to keep his tone of voice level and calm. ¡®I don¡¯t know what you want, but I¡¯m sure of that at least.¡¯


    The woman stopped talking as though she had originally thought that the young man in front of her lacked all traces of emotion.


    ¡®Don¡¯t you have any questions for me?¡¯ The woman moved towards the table and sat down on the metal chair opposite. She leaned forward on the table putting her arms


    Duke decided that giving a non-verbal response might work better in this situation. While he could fight back, he didn¡¯t think that it would be a wise choice e focused his attention on the parts. Specifically on the joints that connect the legs. Crossing his arms he straightened himself up once more but kept his eyes focused. The previous noise that he had heard from the woman¡¯s red eyepatch immediately ceased as he concentrated. A small trickle of sweat began to run down his forehead.


    The chair opposite screeched across the floor as the woman dragged it away from the table and towards the wall.


    The woman dropped the chair and leaned it against the wall right next to the open door in the interrogation room, then she leaned right back so the chair legs were off the floor. A sound came from the chair, as one of the joints connecting a leg broke apart with a small wrenching movement. It seemed like the chair was simply old and had broken when the middle-aged woman had placed her weight on it at an angle and put too much stress on the frame.


    ¡®Oops. The chair just broke. A shame that.¡¯ The woman had a grin on her face as she suddenly rocked forward and lightly jumped off the chair just as the leg broke off it. The now-broken chair lightly clattered down with a soft metal sound onto the concrete floor of the room.


    Her boots failed to touch the floor again and standing up she began hovering above the ground slightly. Her grin faltered as she became aware of the complete lack of interest or expression coming from the young man who had continued sitting down.


    Duke remained focused sitting straight up and failed to notice either the chair breaking or the woman talking. The screeching sound of the chair being dragged across the room hadn¡¯t elicited a response either as he was heavily concentrating and sweat began to form on his brow. He was too focused on making the connections with the chair legs break, his anger fading slightly as he lost focus.


    The table this time began to shudder slightly as the connecting bolts began to loosen before they halted. It was as though four invisible hands had reached out and used a tool on the table legs and then stopped their work.


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    rin dropped from  face as her boots thudded onto the floor.   concentration on the face of the young man  .


    Reaching into her leather jacket pocket, the woman took out a purple-wrapped chocolate bar before tossing it onto the table.


    ¡®Here you go. Everyone likes chocolate.¡¯


    The light slamming noise that it made on the table resounded with the table shuddering for a few seconds before it finally stopped. Duke dropped his head forward  chocolate bar on the table.


    he wiped a sleeve across, and leaned back in his chair with a feeling of exhaustion.


    ¡®Thank you, ma¡¯am.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re welcome. Do you need a towel as well or a drink of water?¡¯ The woman began grinning again like a certain cat who saw a girl called Alice.


    He reached out to the table and picking up the chocolate bar, cradled it between his hands. Duke noticed the label said milk chocolate and was a standard store-bought brand.


    Nothing special but it was something that he enjoyed eating sometimes when he wanted to cheer up. He had a bit of a sweet tooth sometimes; it helped him to deal with difficult situations when he felt stressed.


    The rules were hard to follow sometimes, that had been the case in the convenience store earlier when he had been escorted outside by a pair of police. He hadn¡¯t meant to cause such a disturbance, but he hoped that the mess would be tidied up with his sincere apologies. It was the professor that he was afraid of upsetting, she had grown so old now.


    ¡®No, thank you.¡¯ A small part of Duke wondered why the woman hadn¡¯t responded but then again, he realised that he had violated one of the specific rules that his mentor had instilled in him. He felt ashamed of his actions, he stood up from the chair and used his hoodie to wipe his face before dropping back down into the metal chair.


    The woman slowly reached into her pocket again before pulling out a flip phone, holding it up she stepped forward several times with slow measured steps before placing it on the table in front of Duke and going back to her original position next to the open door.


    ¡®Your friends¡­.¡¯


    The woman started to speak before Duke interrupted her. He realised that his actions may come across as rude, but he felt the need to drive forward a point. Everyone had their limits.


    ¡®I told you that I don¡¯t like you. I need to know if they¡¯re both fine. You could be a police detective but right now I don¡¯t care, I¡¯ve not had a phone call or had my rights read to me. Tell me.¡¯


    ¡®They¡¯re fine. If you¡¯d like to see them Marcus and Zarisa are just in the cops¡¯ break room waiting. But of course if you don¡¯t trust me then feel free to call them. Numbers are on the phone.¡¯


    Duke reached forward for the phone before pushing it away again. He decided to eat the chocolate bar first to get some energy back in himself, performing an act of luck had always drained him. It tasted surprisingly good, sugary, and soft.


    The woman looked at him. ¡®It¡¯s good, right? Way too sweet for my taste but you look like you¡¯re enjoying it.¡¯


    Duke with a mouth full of chocolate just gave back an affirmative grunt.


    ¡®You have a sweet tooth don¡¯t you young man? Do you think Marcus and Zarisa like to eat sweet snacks as well?¡¯


    He responded by shaking his head as he continued to eat the sweet, sugary mess in his mouth. He neatly folded up the foil and paper wrapper and placed them on the table.


    ¡®I¡¯d like to ask if you¡¯ve heard of an old name before Mr Duke. Mar-¡®.


    It was at this time that a loud shouting noise came from the corridor outside of the interrogation room. A heated discussion was going on before a voice yelled with an extremely angry tone.


    ¡®WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU¡¯RE DOING? THIS WAS NOT DONE UNDER MY AUTHORITY. RELEASE ALL OF THEM. YOU¡¯RE PLAYING WITH FIRE THIS TIME, MORE THAN FINGERS CAN GET BURNT.¡¯


    Pausing for a moment as though a discussion was going on Duke strained his ears to listen.


    He relaxed more in his chair and rested his hands on his lap. The outside conversation had nothing to do with him. He worked in a museum basement cataloguing and deciphering materials that were passed onto him by his colleagues and approximate friends.


    The woman dressed in black with boots froze for a moment. She suddenly stood up straight as though she had been lifted by a rope and forced to straighten her spine.


    ¡®OH, DID SHE? WELL, PASS ON MY SPECIFIC INSTRUCTIONS. GET ON WITH IT. NOW.¡¯


    The voice outside echoed into the room through the open doorway.


    A pair of police officers walked back into the room and seemed surprised to see that Duke was sitting in a chair eating chocolate with a mobile phone in front of him. One of them picked up the broken chair and carried it out while another placed a bottle of mineral water and ripened yellow banana on the table along with a small green backpack.


    One of the pair was a young female police officer no older than her early twenties who walked up to the middle-aged woman whispering to her quietly before stepping next to the open doorway.


    ¡®Damn it.¡¯


    The woman with the red eyepatch growled out loud. Her tone showed her sheer frustration.


    ¡®Someone called her. It¡¯s too early. I just needed a bit more time.¡¯ She thought inwardly.


    Her thoughts had a keen frustrated edge to them as though she was always in a state of mild anger and impatience.


    ¡®We¡¯ll talk later kid. Great chocolate, right? Feel free to ask for more. A uniform here will be free to help you as long as you don¡¯t scare her off with one of your little tricks.¡¯


    The woman said to Duke giving him a final wink with her one remaining green eye before she walked out of the door leaving a single police officer in the interrogation room standing by the door on the side.


    The police officer standing by the door cleared his throat. ¡®Ahem. Mr¡­ah¡­Duke¡­ You¡¯re free to leave. Your friends can be found in the break room. Apologies for this minor case of mistaken identity.¡¯


    Duke felt stunned for a moment. This was turning out to be an odd afternoon. He could only think of one way to respond to the police officer.


    ¡®Yes. Can I have another bar of chocolate?¡¯


    The officer showed signs of sweat on her brow before she nodded repeatedly. Her hesitation in leaving the room showed, curiosity getting the better of her direct instincts.


    It was at this point that the metal table in the room collapsed to the floor, legs falling off and the crash to the ground made the officer reach towards his sidearm.


    The police officer appeared to be well trained despite the shock as she didn¡¯t immediately react but kept her eyes on Duke the entire time.


    Interesting. No visible reaction or questions to ask. Or threats.


    Duke was amused rather than annoyed. This one was interesting. A police officer with an inquisitive mind.

 Book 1 Ch 5: Rules and Guidelines

    ¡®I guess that the chocolate bar was too heavy for the table.¡¯


    Duke smiled at the police officer. He was trying his best to be polite given the circumstances. Under all situations involving other humans, he was to follow the rules that the professor had educated him with. He didn¡¯t want to disappoint his mentor.


    ¡®Sir, you are free to leave. You can pick up your belongings and I¡¯ll ask a janitor to check out that table. We don¡¯t tolerate violence here though. Are we clear on that?¡¯


    ¡®


    Duke considered that if there had been a recording of him inside the room all it would have shown was him talking to the middle-aged woman with the eyepatch, stressful body language and then a mysteriously self-collapsing table.


    He had not used any visible physical forces on it so clearly there was no evidence.


    ¡®I think I will leave soon. This type of room brings back ancient memories.¡¯


    The young police officer just nodded as she walked over to the remains of the table and roughly dumped in into a corner of the interrogation room. The chocolate bar was near-crushed so she picked her up and tossed it with the rest of the broken furniture.


    The small green backpack, banana and bottle of water were completely untouched so she zipped open the side of the pack and placed them inside before putting them next to Duke¡¯s chair where he remained seated.


    ¡®Sir, I need to remind you that you are free to go. I¡¯m sure that someone at the front desk can verify this. This is not a visitor centre, this is a police station. Respect our authority please, and please take your belongings with you.¡¯


    Or the General as she preferred to be called by both civilians and officials.


    ¡®Of course. I just¡­need a moment longer to make sure I¡¯m settled. I had¡­a shock. Yes. A moment longer if you would please.¡¯


    Limited use of power in response to a stressful or difficult situation was permitted only under the circumstances that it was not done under a forced situation. Causing a minor discomfort or shock to a fellow human being was permissible but nothing that would cause any physical or psychological damage. It was against rule six.


    I promise and I stick to them. But I¡¯m getting bored now.


    The police officer nodded her head sharply in response before slowly moving towards the open interrogation room door with one hand on her closed holster before she became self-aware and realised her action. Her hand dropped away quickly. Unconscious instinct had caused her to react. Whoever had heard of a suspect being left in an unlocked room with no supervision or even being formally arrested. Something was wrong with this whole situation.


    She had been warned about the particular dangerous environment that could occur, and her tactical training gave her some insight, but she had been one of the unlucky few uniforms to see the biological mess left behind in the alleyways in person. The memory of it still made her stomach turn.


    ¡®Hello?¡¯


    ¡®Officer? Excuse me?¡¯


    She ignored the words of Duke, her mind stuck in her own thoughts.


    Any suspect could be considered friendly until they were entirely proven innocent. They had all been briefed by the station Captain who had told them under all circumstances not to talk to a specific individual who was entering the station but was not under arrest. They were to be understanding towards his needs and the undisclosed agents that would be responsible for him.


    The hag with the eye patch had been a headache for her. She was old and dressed like she was trying to be younger, but she held authority on some level. At least according to her police captain. Inter-service cooperation he had called it. A training exercise in which they would all be evaluated and checked against their service records.


    If Duke showed any signs of discomfort on the pale face of the hesitant police officer, he failed to show any form of emotional recognition or understanding. He decided to be considerate once more and asked the uniformed officer her name.


    ¡®Hello, the other officers refused to talk for some reason, but might I know your name please?¡¯


    He tried his best to give a bright smile once again and rested his body in a relaxed position.


    The female police officer paused for a moment.


    muttered words under his breath so quietly that any living being would  able to


    ¡®One polite police officer, check. One scared human, check.¡¯


    The  turned


    ¡®Well, it¡¯s not usual to tell a suspect the name. But you are free to go. For what it¡¯s worth I¡¯m sorry about the table, we might have a ghost in here.¡¯


    She chuckled at her own attempt at humour as a deeper smile was returned by the young man sitting in the metal chair. He looked like he was trying his best to be polite and accommodating in her eyes, crossing his arms and legs the way he was and his clothes made him seem cute even in a way.


    Chris thought for a moment and considered her options. He¡¯d not reacted with any extreme violence or shown a harsh temper and it wasn¡¯t as though he¡¯d been brought in on murder or any other charges that she was aware of.


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    Letting him know her name wouldn¡¯t hurt. Would it? As long as he didn¡¯t expect her to give out her contact details, she was still a police officer after all.


    Her dark skin glistened under the lights as she adjusted her uniform slightly by the doorway. She looked Duke directly in the eyes. Unafraid


    ¡®My name is Chris. Officer Chris. I¡¯ll get you your chocolate. Be right back.¡¯


    ¡®Thank you.¡¯


    Duke smiled at her with what he considered his best social smile.


    She smiled back brightly back at Duke before she left the room


    didn¡¯t like it when he was wrong. It made things out of order and made him feel annoyed. This game had gone on too long now. He felt tempted to take further action but all of his movements were being monitored right now.


    Unless he decided to change the rules of the game a little. A few wiped memories and security cameras would be a small price to pay rather than him losing his temper.


    Duke considered his options for a few more seconds before he stood up from his chair and waved a hand at the one-way glass. It wouldn¡¯t do much but for now it would gradually weaken until it broke. That would serve as a reminder for trying to keep him locked up against his will.


    The funny part was that it would only shatter with a certain amount of impact. The next time that they had a suspect in this room who threw a chair or their body weight against the glass from the inside it would immediately shatter.


    Duke decided that since they had been so kind to leave the door opened he needed to step outside and have a quick view of the place. As long as he acted accordingly it was doubtful that he would be assessed.


    One of the tricks that he had learnt from his mother had been that as long as you acted if you belonged in a place than it leant you an air of authority. Not even close to a real magic trick but he figured that he¡¯d spent enough of his time locked up inside a room against his will.


    He had no desire to make it last even a few more hours when he¡¯d experienced centuries of boredom. Duke needed two things right now, chocolate and mental stimulation. He did wonder what types of chocolate that police stations stocked and if they were any better than the small convenience store.


    Walking over to the door he suck his head outside to see several uniformed police officers walking seemingly in a hurry while they paid no attention to his interrogation cell.


    He watched as they headed towards a set of stairs and judging by the sound of their footsteps they headed up. Looking out through his door he saw a corridor with several locked doors on alternate sides before they ended with a set of stairs going upwards at the end.


    ¡®Basement interrogation room. Check.¡¯


    He walked out into the corridor, with a mild feeling of surprise that there had been no guards standing by or anyone to watch him.


    Given his security clearance level within the organisation, this situation wasn¡¯t making a great deal of sense in his mind. Yes, he recognised that the woman with the eyepatch had clearly overstepped the bounds of her authority and the General had been called in to deal with it.


    He followed the rules and didn¡¯t cause a fuss though. Even inside the convenience store he had shown one clear trick which although confusing would have occurred instantaneously. The store cameras would have been unable to detect the change.


    ¡®Police escort out of the building and to the relevant authorities. No check.¡¯


    For one thing, this wasn¡¯t meant to be how an interrogation was meant to go according to the movies. There should have been a higher level police official watching over him while several police took turns shouting at him.


    The unlocked door should have been a sign for that. Duke wondered if there were any other suspects imprisoned in the other rooms or if they contained anything interesting.


    He was a curious sort of person, if lacking in social skills but he figured that if anyone had been kept isolated for a long period of time they too would become the same out of sheer boredom.


    ¡®Imprisoned for ten thousand years. Check. Or it feels like it. I¡¯m bored, time to go back to work.¡¯


    Duke considered granting the gift of freedom to other prisoners. Not arming them obviously, this wasn¡¯t a slave revolt against a tyrant. Time hadn¡¯t been kind to Duke.


    All he had wanted was to walk from his job within the cities history museum and then go into the nearest convenience store to purchase a certain brand of chocolate. Still. He had not been given a formal apology nor explanation, a few more little magic tricks might teach them a lesson not to disturb his peace of existence.


    Duke knew that his mother, the Professor would have done far worse with her temper if he had been ill-treated. He decided the safest course of action was to return into the waiting interrogation chamber but this time he would close the door behind him.


    Into a slightly more advanced form, the room itself could do with a little light decoration.


    The room would have dirt that came from outside shoes. Dirt that would contain seeds and the possibility of plant life, even outside microbes.


    The alternative being the lone, unripe banana that remained inside his backpack. Duke had been most fortunate that he had been left with the one essential that living plants needed, a supply of water in the form of the small bottle.


    According to the rules he was permitted to reform matter as long as it was non-organic in nature and not applied to either sentient or living creatures above a certain size.


    Some greenery and scents would make it a more refreshing environment. Duke smiled at the thought, a little use of the wood and metal along with a fresh banana tree would surely be a pleasant surprise and the alteration would not be too extreme.


    Just enough to make it more accommodating towards its next guest but not enough to cause serious change. With luck even, it would be considered a prank or a practical joke which police officers on their off-duty hours would deign to consider.


    Mixing the remains of the mushed chocolate bar and its contents with the banana to create a new type of plant would go against the rules of nature though. Banana plants could be shipped in, but too may changes would get him into more trouble that he already was.


    Besides, Duke was bored and idle hands and minds would create chaos unless he was able to channel his energy. Better to do friendly tricks than let himself get consumed with annoyance.


    ¡®Cameras and monitoring devices. Check. Transfiguration according to strict guidelines, check.¡¯


    Duke mused to himself if the friendly police officer would appreciate this act. He doubted that anyone would believe her if she came out with any theories but he would ask the Professor to make sure that she didn¡¯t get in too much trouble for his actions.


    ¡®And all I wanted was a bar of chocolate. Soon.¡¯

 Book 1 Ch 6: Kindness

    Marcus and Zarisa had no idea what was happening today. They had been escorted by heavily armed escorts but were repeatedly told they were not under arrest but needed to be put under police protection for a short period. Their lives were apparently in danger, and they had been investigated and a police escort was involved. The sheer rushed nature of the police made them mildly concerned but not overly worried.


    Rather than a simple interview at the museum in a private room they had been escorted to the city police station, from then, it had been a marathon session of paperwork, cheap snacks and soft drinks and a pair of bored-looking police officers escorting them. They had both been removed from their workplace under police escort which had thankfully been done quietly so as not to disturb members of the public and other staff.


    The work at the museum research facility had been running smoothly if slowly. They had discovered records of a pair of ancient angels that had fallen to Earth and introduced the concept of magic to humanity. At least according to historical records, the time that it took to read through the sheer amount of linguistic data was Duke¡¯s job.


    Gathering the physical evidence and field research was the role that Marcus and Zarisa undertook. They had met previously at university and married before taking on the role at the Museum of National History. It hadn¡¯t been the ideal career posting and they had ended up having a childless marriage, but the work was fully engaging and brought its rewards.


    Through field trips and expeditions overseas they worked with cultural heritage groups and museum and archaeological dig sites to uncover more artefacts and history on the hidden role of myths in the world.


    Both of them were in their mid-forties and showed small creases and the beginnings of grey hair. A strong work ethic and a shared love for ancient history had kept their marriage strong through the years, it was the mystery of solving and bringing the past to life that fully engaged the both of them.


    Once, the sheer amount of physical artefacts and records had been gathered the task of sorting through it was deemed enormous. At this time, the Museum¡¯s director Mr Finch had introduced the young Duke to them. He seemed quiet if somewhat insular and occasionally gave a response that some would consider rude. Still, given that they had been working for the National Museum of History for so many years as a couple it was harder for them to accept another person who was taking on part of their workload.


    The young man apologised for causing any mistakes and told them about his enthusiasm for ancient history, his focus being on myths and ancient spirits. It was during their first meeting that they met Duke¡¯s teacher Alexa. She was in his early sixties and although walking around with the aid of a walking stick still kept herself straight with a good posture and a clear voice that carefully enunciated each word. Her figure was trim but showing signs of age. Her fashion is carefully conservative in a dark blue business suit with flat dress shoes.


    ¡®I am Alexa. You could call me a teacher of sorts for young Duke here. I would like to ask for your understanding in collaborating with him, he occasionally makes some social mistakes, but he has a good soul. Please treat him with kindness, he deserves your respect despite his age and relative inexperience.¡¯


    The five of them had been sitting in the Director¡¯s office quietly sipping cups of hot tea and crunching away on biscuits. Zarisa, Marcus, Duke, Alexa, and the National Museum director Steve Bradford. The main reason for the employment of the young man had been two-fold, the first point being a rather substantial monetary donation that would be provided on yearly basis on the level of a patron.


    The actual amount was never mentioned but it had surely convinced the director who was well known for his complaints about the lack of funding that was received from the government. Even he was stunned by the sheer amount.


    The second had been the amount of research information that Duke had brought with him. The couple tried to assess his knowledge of ancient history and records and found that he simply knew far more than his twenty years of life should hold. It felt as though he had either lived through the different periods of history or had internally absorbed all the information and sorted it out in his mind before recalling all details with perfect memory.


    At the time, they had assumed that it was a factor of his upbringing. Having never had a child of their own they lacked the same emotional maturity that developed with parenthood and despite trying to understand they felt that the young man was a gifted individual with social difficulties and a certain lack of awareness that was hard to pin down.


    When they had asked Duke about his background he had responded with simple answers. He didn¡¯t tell them exactly where he was from or his family but rather brushed aside the questions with sheer politeness. Judging from his physical appearance he was young enough to be attending a university or even the last year of High School. It was his gift with ancient languages that had surprised them the most.


    ¡®I follow rules from my mentor. I hope we can work together well. My hobbies are eating chocolate and learning magic tricks.¡¯ Duke would give a closed-mouth smile and stand straight as though mimicking the actions of his mentor Alexa.


    He wouldn¡¯t mention the exact nature of the rules and after his first disclosure, he failed to mention the topic again even if it was casually raised in conversation. The most that he would say is that he followed the rules to keep order in his life. Zarisa and Marcus had assumed then that the young man was on an autistic spectrum of some level but if so, it wasn¡¯t shared with them and he gave them no further cause for concern aside from occasionally coming across as being overly blunt when talking.


    After several months of working together, the three of them have developed a closer relationship with each other. Duke was always respectful and almost entirely focused on his work in the museum, sifting through and sorting fragments of data into clearer images and translated text. They would have thought him too hard a worker if not for the fact that he occasionally took breaks to walk around the city and return with several bars of chocolate. There had been a few occasions where he had come across as directly rude or upsetting to other staff in the museum, but they had been told by Alexa that Duke was better working by himself to not offend others.


    When a member of staff threatened to quit regarding an incident with a young man when a delivery order had been disposed of in the trash rather than being brought into the staff room a strange accident occurred. One of the side doors had broken off when opened and fallen on the shouting man¡¯s foot. According to CCTV footage and eyewitness accounts, it was because the man had slammed the door in anger and out of coincidence it had broken off due to a weakened hinge. The man had been dealt with by Human Resources and transferred to another museum site and the matter had been considered settled until Alexa had come and entered a private talk with the Director of the Museum.


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    It was eventually agreed upon that Duke would have his own working space and although he would have close working interactions with Zarisa and Marcus he would be limited in his interaction with the other members of staff at the museum.


    The young man had his accommodation provided for by the museum through Mr Hodgeson so they would often see him earlier in the mornings and late at night as he only lived a short distance away from his workplace.


    The last few months had been quiet with Duke cataloguing, translating, and compiling new records of any ancient histories or artefacts that had been uncovered and shipped back through the efforts of Marcus and Zarisa. Then today a police officer arrived at the museum, told both of them that they were under police escort regarding an important enquiry, and they needed to vacate the premises immediately.


    A junior member of staff had been notified regarding their sudden disappearance from their post. Every member of staff was then made aware that they would be assisting with an ongoing police investigation except the museum director who was currently off-site and in a budgetary meeting with the local government to secure further funds.


    Duke on the other hand was in the back minds of most of the staff who barely saw him due to his work in a separate area. At most, they would assume that he was a member of the public who frequently visited the museum as his profile was kept relatively low and he didn¡¯t attend any staff meetings or birthday parties. His lack of social skills combined with the request from his mentor Alexa who had supplied both resources, materials and monetary contributions kept his working situation fairly quiet.


    When the police officers first arrived at the museum, security staff had directly been approached for the location of their whereabouts. There had been a minor state of alarm that there had been a break-in or illegal theft at the museum, but staff were reassured that it was simply a routine exercise, and no one had been placed under arrest but were simply assisting with an ongoing investigation.


    Duke had been picked up earlier by a pair of polite uniformed police when he had been buying his favourite chocolate bar in a local convenience store that was some distance from the museum.


    At first, the cashier thought that it was a robbery or a terrorist act that had been caught and had become concerned at the event of them directly escorting the young man but not placing him under arrest. As he had not responded and there were no violent actions or responses it was more of a case of curiosity than anything else. An unusual event but not dangerous. The cashier felt mostly amused at the whole process. She had seen a lot of strange events during her time working in the convenience store and this was likely going to be another.


    Once the matter was explained that the young man was merely helping with an ongoing police investigation and was not under any suspicion of criminal activity the cashier calmed down. It had helped that the pair of uniformed officers had purchased several cups of coffee and boxes of doughnuts and paid in cash.


    ¡®Will that be all officers?¡¯ said the cashier as he rang up the fifth box of doughnuts on the cashier.


    ¡®No, add on the chocolate bar that guy was going to buy. It looks pretty good; he¡¯s got some nice taste in sweets. We¡¯ll also take a few iced coffees to go.¡¯ Responded the taller of the two officers. He was an older man in his late forties, his uniform slightly stretched judging by his waistline.


    Duke had felt pleased that his favourite chocolate bar was being purchased on his behalf by the police officers but rapidly became disappointed as one of them stuffed it into her uniform jacket and didn¡¯t hand it over to him. They were able to talk to the shop clerk but didn¡¯t say a single word to him.


    It was this series of actions that would later lead to a broken chair and table in an interrogation room, but it was unknown at the time how large the consequences became as a result. Sleeping monsters were best left undisturbed.


    When the police officers had left along with Duke, the cashier had a small surprise as he was closing up the store that night. It seemed that the person who was in the store had caused an incident somehow, but he was at a complete loss to explain it. The entire shelf full of chocolate bars had been altered so that all of the bars had been perfectly sliced in half with no signs of the other half in the store.


    A man and a woman had visited the store dressed in plain black business suits after the police had departed. Following a short discussion on the nature of the incident which was written off as a routine training process and the young man had a paid actor, she had been made to sign an NDA ensuring that her silence was kept.


    They permitted her to call her brother though to make sure that she would follow along with the established procedure.


    The head office of her company had been pre-notified, and her cell phone rang with the news that she would be receiving further information from Human Resources regarding a promotion.


    ¡®Jerry? Something odd happened today.¡¯


    ¡®Addie. Let me know if you got robbed. I told you to quit the business and come back to work with the family business. It¡¯s what dad would have wanted. ¡¯


    ¡®No, it was¡­well, I can¡¯t talk about it. I¡¯m fine, no robbery.¡¯


    ¡®Then why are you calling me?¡¯


    ¡®Forget about it. This is good news for once. I¡¯m going to get a promotion in another city. A larger store with a management position. Pretty lucky right?¡¯


    ¡®Sure, you work hard and get promoted. Sounds about right. Are you going to be able to come back home on the holidays then? Mom was asking about you.¡¯


    ¡®I will. Better salary and more holidays. I¡¯ll be there for Christmas. Just giving you a heads-up about the good news. I gotta go and prepare my current store closure.¡¯


    The pair in the business suits then asked her to shut down the store for the day and that her head office had been contacted and would be giving her paid vacation times of five weeks to allow her time to move to her new management position in another larger store in a nearby regional city. The convenience store was closed down and the contents were entirely removed and disposed of in an incineration facility the following week.


    The empty store was shut down and boarded up before becoming another closed-down business in a country full of them. The matter became completely forgotten and the ashes were smothered and disposed of in an experimental energy reactor.


    All traces of the story in the convenience store were suitability disposed of and it didn¡¯t even have the time and space to grow into an urban legend or a rumour.

 Book 1 Ch 7: Police Officer Dan

    Within the police station inside a securely locked side office, a woman was currently experiencing a dressing-down from her superior. The blinds had been closed and an armed police offer had been requested to stand outside of the door to stop any unnecessary interruptions.


    The rest of the police department had been briefed to give the office a wide; it had caused a degree of friction within the uniformed officers and detectives. As far as they knew it was an unknown agency with ties to the central government, but no questions had been answered.


    An older uniformed officer with a slight stomach and tanned olive skin and a short crew cut was standing nearby the office with crossed arms. He didn¡¯t look annoyed exactly, more tired.


    Chris had been standing on the side of the office glaring at the securely locked side office. She hadn¡¯t liked that woman with the eyepatch giving her direct instructions and then the suspect or whatever he was meant to be in the open interrogation room had shocked her a little bit.


    When she had asked her fellow officer what charge he had been brought in on they had just shrugged their shoulders and said that was being investigated and was in the process of being discharged. Leaning against the side of the office she crossed her arms and took a breather.


    She waved to a nearby uniformed officer and told him that she was taking a quick five-minute break just to give her time to process the scene of the incident. He nodded and got back to his work after letting a nearby sergeant know.


    She didn¡¯t like it when she had questions that had no valid answers. It was one of the main reasons that she had signed up to become a cop in the first place. Before her dad was discharged from duty following an incident with a suspected arson attack that her father had suspected was part of a larger fraud deal going on with local criminal elements.


    He had become almost consumed in his quest in chasing the insurance company that was the main pay-out for the arson cases. Specific residential blocks of flats in which the leasehold was ending had been burnt down due to a suspected electrical fault. The occasional death was ignored as a freak accident, but Chris¡¯s father was a man who wanted to make sure that the criminal elements of the case were punished for their crimes.


    In the end, he had been given a choice between either early retirement and signing an NDA or indictment on the case of providing false evidence and harassment. He had chosen to take the retirement plan and live a life of fishing and painting. The now non-suspected arson cases had continued, and new blocks of flats were being developed on the ashes. All his efforts had been ignored or swept away through legal jargon.


    Chris found that she shared a similar trait with her father, once she chose to stick to a particular focus, she wouldn¡¯t give it up. She wanted to know exactly who the man in the interrogation room was and what was going on. An inquisitive, stubborn nature that she was unable to stop would result in her getting into trouble. Not at first, but it would.


    There had only been two agents in black suits, a man and a woman accompanied by a middle-aged woman wearing civilian clothing with a distinct eyepatch and an older woman in her late fifties who was dressed in an expensive-looking suit and flat shoes. The three dressed in suits had appeared later after the middle-aged civilian had arrived with instructions to bring three civilians in for questioning.


    After a short discussion with the Captain in her main office Officer, Chris and three other uniformed police offers were directly instructed to locate and bring three normal civilians who worked and lived in the vicinity of the city¡¯s main museum back to the station for questioning regarding an ongoing investigation.


    One of the police officers Chris had first challenged the agents when they had arrived, and she had a badge flashed at her with the words FOMR with the instructions that they were there to deal with an investigation nearby where a biological outbreak had been detected.


    A containment leak from a nearby experimental lab with a focus on stem cell research, it had meant that all locals were to be barred from entering the area as the police were tasked with sealing off all entrances and exits including the crime scene. It had been called an unfortunate incident, highly unusual.


    For one thing, there hadn¡¯t been any witnesses or scientists from the lab held responsible for the biological outbreak. It would make more sense if it was a government-funded facility that simply wanted the whole situation to be swept under the carpet. She didn¡¯t want to become like her father and become too focused on dealing with a situation that was clearly under the control of a higher authority. Money is more like this whole incident came down to money.


    In this situation Chris found herself tasked with crowd control, keeping away the gawkers and talkers as her dad had once told her. Any media presence within the nearby vicinity would be discouraged and anyone asking would be noted and referred over to the government agents. Questions were strictly discouraged and anyone who had seen either the incident scene or photos had been told to sign a non-disclosure agreement with a paid fixed bonus as a reward for their service.


    She had firmly refused the reward although it came with a government commendation. It was provided in the form of additional salary disbursement. Payment would be provided over six months as long as they kept to the rules of the NDA.


    Mainly because for her it felt too much like a bribe. Yes, there was corruption but that was for internal affairs to deal with and for her to put off a little bit longer at least until she had been in the service for a decent time. Her father had warned her about the dangers of the job, both from criminals and the temptation of looking the other way to top up your retirement funds.


    ¡®Chris.¡¯


    She heard a voice call her name drawing her attention swiftly back to the station. Realising that she had been leaning against the wall for far longer than she had anticipated she felt cramp pains in her upper back and legs.


    Stiff, she¡¯d lost track of time thinking. Not the best sign when all she had been told to do was keep quiet and deal with inter-agency cooperation.


    ¡®Chris!¡¯


    Looking up and stretching out her arms in front of her she rolled her shoulders back to loosen them out. Her eyes fell directly on one of her colleagues who looked slightly panicked in his eyes.


    He seemed more worried than actually concerned. She briefly wondered what the big issue was about, it wasn¡¯t as though the police station was currently under attack by an escaped group of convicts out for revenge. The day would be pretty interesting if it was but sadly no excitement on that scale ever happened to police in reality.


    ¡®Yeah?¡¯


    ¡®You got a special request. It came from the freak that was in the open interrogation room. Don¡¯t know why they left the room open but I¡¯m telling you something was off about that guy. The way that he was looking at me made my skin crawl I¡¯m telling you, the SWAT team should be outfitted to take him into protective custody or an isolation unit. No way are we equipped to deal with someone like that.¡¯


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    ¡®Dan¡­¡¯


    The middle-aged colleague who Chris knew vaguely from her time there was normally put at the station front desk and saw little on the street. He¡¯d had the mandatory training but put more time in the office than out dealing with incidents like the alleyway that she¡¯d seen earlier that day.


    ¡®Prison. Or a psych ward. He¡¯d have to be moved with a whole armed squad in a convoy. Even call in the National Guard to make sure that he didn¡¯t bust out and start a city-wide riot of one. His eyes, did you see his eyes? He looked at me like I was an insect. How can he look at a person like that? He...no¡­it...¡¯


    ¡®DAN!¡¯


    The man jumped when Chris shouted out his name. The panicked look in his eyes toned down a little and he ran a hand through his hair as though trying to smooth it down for a better impression.


    ¡®Jeez. I was, I¡­¡¯


    He seemed to realise for a moment that he had been caught in a moment of panic and the words that he had been babbling caught up with his conscious mind. Looking down at his feet, his largish face turned red, and his breathing increased before he put both hands on his head and stood straight up again. Both hands were moving with uncertainty, so he chose to fold his arms and tuck them in tight.


    ¡®Sorry. I¡¯m sorry Chris. I guess something odd just came over me then. Must have been the tacos I ate for lunch. Whew, they were extra spicy. Yeah, that was it. Oh right! I need to tell you about a message from those agents who were here earlier. I reckon the two ladies are in that office having a chat, right?¡¯


    Nodding his head towards the office with the blinds shut and a low-level conversation that continued before a thumping noise was heard.


    ¡®Not too happy. Nope. Nope. I think the one with the eyepatch dressed as a civilian is in trouble now. You¡¯re being assigned to a special task force on the orders of the chief, I was asked to tell you in person because I reckon that I¡¯ve worked at this station the longest so far.¡¯


    Chris nodded her head. She had a slight headache now given the amount of talking that Dan just gave her. She figured that it was partially down to his age and also the fact that he¡¯d worked at the front station desk for so many years without being promoted.


    Now she had a clearer idea why he¡¯d worked in the same position for so long. He was a chatterbox and panicked. Not the best material for a solid street officer. If she was in charge of him then she¡¯d take the same approach and let him work the front desk away from the occasional street disturbances that broke out.


    ¡®Right. Thanks for the heads up, Dan. Do you need to get back to the front of the station now? There should be a few more enquiries that need your urgent attention and tactful thought processes.¡¯


    ¡®Huh? No, I was given a message directly from the Captain. She said that the Chief gave her direct instructions to be passed on to you. Most of the other officers are in a briefing right now and we¡¯re a little understaffed so it was handed over to me to hand over the message.¡¯


    Chris clamped her hand on the older man¡¯s shoulder as a gesture of respect. Even if he was getting older and hadn¡¯t been on active duty for quite some time, he still knew to follow the chain of command and do his duty as a police officer.


    ¡®Got it. Dan. You seemed a bit worried about the guy that was brought into the interrogation room. You can tell the Captain when you see her next that the message is received.¡¯


    Dan smiled a bright smile at her. At least the best that he could with the various fillings in his teeth. It wasn¡¯t the best or brightest smile that she¡¯d seen but in a police station it was genuine. Chris recalled that the older man was only a few years away from full retirement, the whole package. She flashed a smile back at him.


    ¡®Yeah, I just¡­huh. I don¡¯t rightfully remember. As you get older sometimes things get a little bit fuzzy. All those perps that get processed through the front desk have blurred into a long line of old black-and-white memories. I remember the eyes of that one guy though, as he walked by me it just felt wrong. Not the eyes of a killer though, not strictly speaking. I¡¯ve seen enough of those over the years. No, I think he was a little bit crazy but the orders to leave him in an open interrogation room unsupervised was even worse.¡¯


    Chris frowned at that. Age didn¡¯t always mean you ended up with a bad memory. Genetics and diseases were more likely causes for forgetting.


    ¡®Dan. Did you talk to the perp? You know that standing orders are to leave suspects in interrogation rooms alone and under the direct control of the arresting detectives and senior personnel.¡¯


    Shaking his head, he untucked his hands. Shuffled his feet on the floor a little, looked down and then back up again at her. His emotions looked far more settled now judging from the look on his face. His uniform was tight against his slim, almost thin frame. Some police put on weight in the job over the years, Dan was the opposite. He had started as a tall, strong man and gradually began to shrink down a little in size the longer he worked at the police station.


    Looking directly at his fellow police officer in the eyes he fixed his gaze as though trying to show her the importance of the matter. His eyes looked slightly off giving the impression that he was under the influence of an intoxicant, and his pupils were larger than normal. Chris didn¡¯t think that it was likely that he had a drug or alcohol problem but given that he had worked on the force for so long these issues as long as they remained low-key often got swept under the rug.


    Everyone had their secrets after all the police authority combined with high levels of stress created bad living habits, everyone needed an outlet in some form even if it was only doughnuts and bad coffee.


    ¡®No. When he came into the station escorted by two uniforms, he just gave me this look. Made me feel all strange inside. Sometimes they shout you know or scream and holler. The rough ones feel the need to fight or put up a front for all their buddies watching. Once they get into a cell or an interrogation room all the fight goes out of them. The one who walked in though was calm. Far too calm, he was more interested in the environment.¡¯


    ¡®He sounds like an interesting case. Dangerous perhaps if he was unafraid or had connections if they brought him in without handcuffs.¡¯


    ¡®I never told you that. No, I never described to you that he wasn¡¯t secured. I recall that I told you he was being escorted by two uniforms. How do you know that Chris? Has someone been gossiping again?¡¯


    Chris gave him a strong look and raised her eyebrows.


    ¡®Everyone likes to talk in a police station It¡¯s what we like to do. No, I met him in person when I entered his interrogation room, twice. The first time was with Matt, we were told by the Captain to render all possible assistance to that woman in the eyepatch.¡¯


    Hag. She was an old hag.


    She didn¡¯t like the look of that woman, but Dan would gossip even worse than she did, so she wisely chose to keep her words to herself. Not when the women and her boss were in the nearby office. Walls had ears, and so did listening devices and nearby colleagues. She was old and trying to dress young and fashionable. Ugh. Nothing worse than a woman trying to dress and act cute, not when she was older.


    Dan nodded his head. His thinnish frame made his uniform bellow out slightly. He didn¡¯t want any trouble with the Captain, not when he was only two years away from full retirement.


    He was interrupted by Chris who had enough chatting and wanted to go to her assigned task force.


    ¡®Where did the Captain say I had to meet the task force?¡¯


    ¡®Oh, I thought that you knew.¡¯


    ¡®Knew what, exactly Dan.¡¯


    ¡®You. You¡¯re the assigned task force. The Captain said that you¡¯re to act as an inter-agency liaison between our local police and the government spooks. You need to directly report to the woman in the eyepatch. Sorry, Ms Nil. You can head straight to the office that she¡¯s using as they¡¯re both currently waiting for you.¡¯


    Crap. Sorry, Dad. I did it again.

 Book 1 Ch 8: The Professor

    The nights grew colder and longer each year and with each passing day. She didn¡¯t know where the endless sun-filled summers had fled, but her world remained the same. Cold and isolated with her research bases. Left alone unless asked to clarify old questions.


    The woman who others called Professor and her adopted son called mum, both with degrees of respect, fear and reverence was deep inside a secure location which was located on the outskirts of the city near the mountains.


    The entrance was relatively isolated although the path leading up was heavily patrolled with radiation signs warning of dangers.


    The department which she had set up and ran for longer than most of her colleagues remained alive was a quiet location, reserved for the researchers who provided the information pored over by analysts and the militant section alike.


    ¡®


    The old woman waved a hand in total disregard. She had entirely rebuilt this department since her entrance and was likely the longest-serving civilian in the history of the present day organisation.


    ¡®Young woman. The Facility had records dating back to before your ancestors crossed the seas on wooden boats. Yes, the knowledge was partially lost but we won the war. I don¡¯t need to hear your newly half-baked opinion on the Dromor Region. I¡¯ve written at least a dozen reference texts on the place.¡¯


    ¡®Yes ma¡¯am. I was told to report that this was linked to the early protocols which you built on.¡¯


    Professor Alexa sighed. Once she had created and rebuilt entire containment and restriction sections and her work was handed down to the younger pups who came and went over the years.


    Mainly due to the fact that they died of old age and she carried on. Her connection with her adopted son giving her physical form more leeway than it should have otherwise possessed.


    Either that or she had been corrupted by various forgotten living myths over the years. She felt a need to pull out a ritual blade, cut into her own arm and let the blood drip to show proof of her own sacrifice.


    ¡®Ma¡¯am?¡¯


    She was possibly insane by this point but she managed to at least provide a veer of sanity and a firm degree of self-control. When you fought against monsters you never really became one, you just became a survivor, broken or dead. Two out of three wasn¡¯t bad considering she had her son in her life.


    ¡®Do you know that blood type the elders were Esra?¡¯


    ¡®I, I don¡¯t know ma¡¯am. We¡¯re basing our findings mainly on hearsay these days. The containment protocols that were developed back when human consciousness development were simple but otherwise effective. Did you need me to check it out?¡¯


    Professor Alexa sighed. She didn¡¯t know quite when she had reached such levels in the Facility of Myth Reduction that her every word was taken seriously.


    ¡®No. I¡¯m taking a break now. Just leave me alone and good luck with your research. You have potential, just keep an open mind and don¡¯t listen to an old woman too much. Age doesn¡¯t always translate into wisdom.¡¯


    Her only source of joy had remained the same all of these years, initially her pet project then her only child and the light of her life. Her only regret was that she had continued to grow old and have the ability to change while he stayed the same, he would never change nor grow old and pale or feel the cold.


    Professor Alexa pulled out her security card, granting her clearance into her personal research chambers. These were the one place that she could guarantee peace of mind, only in the case of an extreme emergency was she to be disturbed and left alone with her thoughts.


    ¡®The musings of an old woman¡¯ she muttered to herself under her breath. She didn¡¯t need anyone listening to further question her sanity regardless of the respect that was due her.


    The bareness of the room resembled her own mind, she disliked excess clutter, this room was for her to either think, work study or be left alone in. Even her closest friend still alive respected that, food and drink were prohibited in this place, even to herself.


    She took one of the few chairs that was allowable in her room. She so rarely granted permission for anyone to enter that she didn¡¯t care for the trimmings of comfort.


    A simple old hand carved wooden chair, one of a pair, more than suited her needs. She knew that it should have been in a museum but it was one of her earlier finds and even if the value of it was high she still needed a place to sit.


    Alexa sat down, feeling her body protest as it settled down. She knew that her appearance didn¡¯t show her true age but sometimes she truly felt it. She sat and looked at the slowly rotating stone cube, it¡¯s size several metres across as it moved through the air in a fixed position with nothing holding it up.


    This was her first true find and entry into the world of myth. As a girl she had always dreamed of becoming an archaeologist and finding an ancient burial tomb filled with treasure.


    ¡®I wish all you bastards could experience being locked inside that as you tried with my son. I¡¯m going to find you and lock you all away of cast you out of this world.¡¯


    She had told herself the same familiar words over and over when she was in her room, this time was no different as the stone cube failed to respond to her words or shift it¡¯s gradual slow rotations in any form.


    An eternal star froze in time like a prehistoric fly trapped in a shard of amber. A beautiful sight to see but eternally the same, ignored by the ravages of time.


    ¡®This is why we don¡¯t need gods interfering with human life. Eternal beings that never change, never learn or adapt to fit the needs of an entire race.¡¯


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    The change was, she knew, essential to the growth of all living beings. Without change how could growth take place? A static mindset created conflict both within and without, and conflict would eventually mean war or imprisonment.


    Once she had enjoyed their time together, but she realised that it was simply out of her vanity and desire to keep her child to herself. To let him develop she had established a series of rules that would enable him to protect himself and others around him. To err was to be human, to open doors that needed to remain locked was not, even if it was by accident or deliberate design.


    Rules. A social environment, love, and attention. Guidance. Alexa had tried to pass all of these on to her only child, in the end, she thought that he deserved a peaceful life, one suited to his abilities but set back enough from social responsibilities that he would never feel pressured or upset.


    She had never fallen in love in her life before that moment. Not since she first found her child, lost, and abandoned by an unforgiving world. Never married nor looked for a suitable partner. Her parents had thought her odd how she lacked the inclination for romance, without love she would never give them grandchildren.


    She let her body sink into chair looking around her personal work space, the books that she had spent decades researching and writing, the boxes full of archaeological finds that were catalogued and removed from human history.


    In truth she had thought of children as a form of legacy, to pass on your beliefs and understandings and provide them with what you lacked. It was the biological process that she was unable to understand. Human contact was not her forte, not because she hated other people, but because she simply felt a distance that could not be measured.


    No, it was her work that had driven her. When you realised that you were able to protect entire civilisations and you were the difference between barbarism and an educated society then you would choose to serve humanity.


    Suppression of information was the key. A lack of belief and interest focused on the latest technological development had proved the best path to take. All those government agencies passed on their reports and information regarding incidents where it all vanished into a black hole known as the facility of myth reduction.


    Her hair now turned mostly grey, and her skin stretched thinner with each passing year. The work had both rewarded her and punished her in equal measure.


    ¡®I¡¯ve become an old woman. Mostly.¡¯


    Talking to herself in this room had become a habit. In truth the two statues would have been aware of her conversation if they had been awake. The beings that inhabited them had either starved to near-death or gone insane over the constant interrogation and lack of feeing.


    The fact that the stone had even been damaged had been a blessing for her when they had first been found. Rogue power leaked from them, causing both damage and repairing her body and mind.


    Curses, prayers, and spells had a lasting impact over the years. Both rewarding and damning in equal measure, to age without getting older, to live beyond your years but you struggled to remember your daily tasks. Pain became a constant companion. A reminder of the battles that she had won and forgotten.


    Her friends and colleagues passed into mere mention.


    ¡®And in the end, who¡¯s left? You ancient things, locked away. Got any ideas?¡¯


    Professor Alexa wasn¡¯t expecting a response. If she had received one it would mean an immediate and total lockdown of the facility. Armed and equipped soldiers and priests would rush in and the detonation of a weapon of mass destruction a possibility.


    Immortal didn¡¯t mean unconquered or unable to suffer or take damage. The broken off parts of the statues showed proof of that.


    No, her personal quarters was possibly the most secure location within this base. Any whispers or thoughts which leaked from their dreams would be unable to affect her mental well-being or reach into her soul.


    Both her son and her own workings protected her.


    She had chosen the name of her child as recognition of his status in the world and in the form of a passing memory that she had of one of her childhood film stars. He had been strong, unrelenting, and punished his enemies. The scene where he had walked away after an attempted ambush by a determined band of tomb raiders had stuck with her. Strong, domineering but at the same time possessed with an innate calmness to overcome trying situations.


    It had only been several decades later when she had come closer to the truth after speaking with spirits and shamans that they found that her choice of name was far closer to his real name than she had first imagined. Fate or sincere familial love had given her that much at least.


    He had been a scientific impossibility, but she had been determined not to divulge his details to her handlers at the time. The organisation had been in the process of modernisation following a war that had shaken the world. New technologies were replacing the old to make sure that events would not spin out of control and give rise to further conflict and the loosening of old bonds.


    Suffice it to say that the facility succeeded in keeping the bonds from being broken but they were unable to stop the war from being waged. They were not the keepers of human destiny, only the ones who made sure that the roof wasn¡¯t torn away from their heads.


    In a war that had been waged over millennia, any weapon that would give an edge was immediately possessed, tested, and used against an enemy.


    She recalled when she had found him first, she had been oh so young back then. In her mid-twenties at most. Weapons used against her mind had caused her to forget a great deal but never the time spent with him and certainly not when she had encountered him. The decades have flown by as she recalled her precious memories, all she had left really after all this time aside from her strong feelings, determination will and of course the facility.


    Alexa found that her child had been possessed by an innate innocence. Isolation and time had stripped him of any guile that he might have once possessed, his nature while not benevolent leaned at worst towards more mischievous concerns. He had learned to pay little tricks of magic when he felt bouts of frustration and annoyance pass over him.


    It had been the main reason that she had been determined to identify and establish a series of rules and guidelines with him. One accident had almost destroyed an entire research centre for fear of cross-contamination. The military branches of her organisation had wanted to take Duke away from her, to train him in the ways of war and use him in the same way that any unthinking soldierly leadership would.


    Charge him up, arm him and point him at their enemies. If he died or was injured, then so be it according to their beliefs. They only wanted to use up their power to limit or fulfil their paramilitary mission requirements.


    How short-sighted they were in their beliefs; it was the extremists in the organisation if she could call them that. They saw themselves as being more pragmatic, destroying and tearing out the roots rather than sticking to the old methods of limitation and isolation.


    When you needed to fight darkness and barbarism you needed to use the same heretical tools as them. To defeat devils you could use a tame devil if needed.


    Oh, how she had fought back against them through committee meetings and old favours owed through years of work at the facility.


    Her research at the time had been considered too valuable, her mind and body honed to a keen age through protocol development, in-house testing, and fieldwork. She had given her life, her health and most of her sanity to the facility.


    All she had asked in return was for her child to be given a safe, boring position in a museum. Money and political power had changed hands and she had succeeded in her initial goal.

 Book 1 Ch 9: Human Brain

    A secure boring job in a museum. With two colleagues who she thought would appreciate the work that her son would offer. They would do the field research and he would translate and decipher any materials found which would, in turn, give new insights into ancient history. The gift of tongues had been one ability that they failed to strip from him during his long time of imprisonment or banishment.


    Alexa had never been quite clear on which of the two it was meant to be, either would be a form of punishment but her son failed to hold any resentment or anger towards his captors. He has been lost and forgotten in turn, memories and battles turned into dust and reborn into a new state of curiosity and lack of understanding. He possessed an inner purity and state of innocence free of malice and hate. Closer to a newborn than an adult.


    She had planned to let her son find his place in the world, free of the facility, free of the complex paths of the world and work and eat chocolate as he saw fit. Such a funny thing for him to latch onto that caused so much of his benevolence to appear, coco beans mixed with milk and sugar. It wasn¡¯t for the physical enjoyment she thought but then her son had kept so much of himself hidden away and forgotten so much of his past and mind.


    Until more radical elements of the facility found an excuse to get involved with all the machinations and factions that an age-old organisation developed over time. Humans had fought wars for less so since the first protohuman had picked up a rock and attacked another.


    The wars weren¡¯t the main issue though. The beings that called themselves gods which intervened either directly or indirectly were the cause for concern, technology was one thing while belief in a higher level of being was another.


    Mix in a variety of religious beliefs, fear and a dose of self-righteousness and you ended up in a situation where the need to keep a roof of safety above the head of the world overcame specific morals. Some sought to put barbed wire on the ceiling and other traps, some of whom only wanted to make repairs when and if necessary.


    An element of uncertainty had appeared more recently according to the information reports that Alexa had read, been small-scale at first and barely noticeable in the wider scheme of events.


    The role of the facility was to keep the status quo after all. They had no rights nor enough power or resources and a constant edge was fought between countries and economies. It was enough for them to check the doors and windows were locked but they never owned the house, only passed through it as a real estate agent did during an annual inspection.


    When you were dealing with entities that could form tsunamis and storms that would wreak havoc and death across small nations the death of a small band of mercenaries and a small, isolated village in a remote region held little interest. Once it occurred frequently within a medium-sized city it held a far different premise. Power once unleashed and feared would be believed, then it would grow, and further aberrations would appear.


    The vicious cycle would continue until stopped. Use of force usually meant that the situation had gotten out of containment protocols and a viable excuse would be used which meant that human casualties were likely. Cover stories were implemented, and cash transactions were followed to ensure that silence was permanently kept. Civilization depended on it.


    The cults were the worst ones. When gods became real people began to depend on them. Even minor spirits could create undue influence in times of need, then they would need to be shut down and doors and windows barred before they were able to gain a foothold.


    Any country in a state of war or economic chaos allowed for  at best as humans as they often did seek a solution to their immediate problems. Their prayers for an answer or an uncaring being to come and help their situation often went unanswered and for good reason.


    Sufficient belief in any spirit or presumed self-proclaimed deity caused a ripple effect. A single prayer would lead to power being exercised which would lead to further belief and it would continue until immediately put to a halt.


    Humans ended up as slaves to these creatures, they may develop sufficiently advanced civilisations but remain beholden to their new masters and mistresses.


    The awakening of the human consciousness had put a hard stop to that according to the research that she had undertaken. At a roughly determined point in history, humans had changed physically and psychologically. A rational and scientific mindset had replaced the old rules of the world and myths and legends became mere stories.


    All of the mythical creatures became known as relics of the past, and conversations and voices from the heavens became dismissed as mass hysteria and hallucinations. Mere phantasms from a brain that had not become physically developed enough to take on the challenges of the world.


    Rationalism and scientific interest in the natural world created an entirely new narrative for human beings to follow. Although there remained a degree of spirituality that was still fed according to religious and cultural practice it was no longer on the same scale as in previous aeons.


    Alexa hoped that her son Duke would remember the rules he desperately needed to follow. Her power and influence within the facility were far weakened now, in allowing him to escape and find his purpose within the wider world she had reduced the amount of protection that she was able to offer him. It was ironic in a way, that her son would find a curiosity in a world that would fear him if they knew his power.


    The part of him that wasn¡¯t human would be interested, as a wolf would bare its fangs when faced with a challenger. Any animal would fight back for its immediate territory, it was humans who scaled up and fought for reasons too diverse to mention.


    Laughing lightly to herself despite the pain that came from her lungs Alexa was pleased that she knew at least one thing about her son that the radical elements including that pagan witch with the stolen eye didn¡¯t know.


    Her patch might dampen and limit her power from overwhelming her but she was playing with stole fire which would burn her alive if she didn¡¯t keep it in check. The witch knew nothing clearly about her son, he wasn¡¯t a scorpion for them to use in their militant operations.


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    Nor was he even a wolf. They had made the wrong classification of his power scales using her developed protocols. He was far worse than they imagined.


    Alexa had spent her life researching the past and the myths and legends to know that there were some questions regarding her adopted son that she didn¡¯t want answers to. The world was a stable enough place and she would protect him until her death of old age.


    The thought of longevity through magical means or other means crossed her mind but she had seen the true value of so-called immortality. If it meant being trapped inside a locked box for at least ten thousand years trapped with yourself for company and walls of images then she would prefer the end of her natural life.


    The feel of the harsh sands and the heat on the sun on her once soft skin as her parents struggled in the deserted regions of the world, bringing her along, a girl who was becoming a young woman in both body and mind, to their dig sites and places of research.


    She had lost both her parents when they had approached a site without precaution, a failure on the place of the facility to properly guard and warn away trespassers. The land had been in more conflict then with warring nations causing chaos and the desire for power and land and blood.


    The Facility of Myth Reduction had almost been lost back then then, struggling to deal with outbreaks which were put down to disturbances, pestilences and disease. Outbreaks of myth which meant human imagination was realised and consumed into new forms of power.


    She had found her son though shortly after the loss of her parents, they hadn¡¯t seen the sigils in place or the warnings. It made her laugh how her motherly instincts at the tender age of fourteen had been what had saved her life.


    Standard operating procedures would be enforced with a severe lockdown penalty in place if they found out that Alexa had falsified his records and readings.


    It was a given that it would be a near-impossibility for them to find out the truth mainly because she had given her life to developing and reclassifying cases.


    At worst they would consider him to be a tame djinn who was capable of minor reality breaks but had been found in a dusty tomb somewhere locked away for millennia and forgotten until released by a young woman barely out of her teens searching for answers and clues.


    For her son, there was little that Alexa wouldn¡¯t do. The pagan witch was aware of some aspects of his powers, she thought that he would act as a kind of wish fulfilment device. The classic story of the djinn who granted your three wishes was a mere myth but the existence of the spirit who wanted freedom after being trapped was not.


    The tale of King Solomon''s ring that allowed the ruler of a country long ago to control a demon or spirit to obey his commands and bound to his will would perform great feats of magic. In some stories, it was said that an angel had been granted to him by the will of benevolent heaven.


    Alexa had met angels in the flesh as it were and had not been impressed. The amount of time that it had taken her to kill or banish them back into memory and superstition had been measured in the number of colleagues who had died. It was her position of authority that had given her enough time to be a family with Duke, to show kindness and support but also to provide him with a semi-moral framework which would guide him once he chose his independence. No ring would be controlling him.


    The heavily developed structure would allow him the flexibility to protect himself from harm but also limit his action against innocent or unaware humans.


    In any case, a fail-safe had already been built into him, it was not of her devising though. Alexa thought that it might be a safety measure that had both protected him and isolated him from the shift in human consciousness millennia ago when gods, spirits and monsters were no longer believed in and rational thinking took control. The power of prayer had no impact on Duke, not in any real sense. For her, he was simply her son nothing more, nothing less.


    Prayers gave spirits energy and power, and emotions built upon that energy. Her son, who had killed the dragon in stories of old. His fascination with magic was an odd one, he was aware that he could affect minor changes in reality, but the scale of his abilities had been limited.


    Mainly, through her own intervention or either the sheer length of his captivity and his relative isolation. His memory loss and personality regression had been be a fortunate opportunity and either he had chosen her or she had chosen him. In the end it was the same result, a teenager become a mother and a lost being became a son.


    ¡®The work here begins to sicken me.¡¯


    Alexa grew tired of her work in the facility. The conservatives wanted to stick to the old stable methods and the radicals wanted to use fire to fight a fire. She had grown weary of the constant issues and the nights grew longer all she wanted was to be left alone in peace.


    Over-preparation, isolation and removal of any traces formed the basis of protocols that she had designed for the facility. She had never even considered forming a standard operation procedure against her son though despite her failings. If you were to turn against your child who you gave love, energy, and attention then you would never be considered a parent but instead a failure.


    All she asked for was happiness and the opportunity to live a fulfilled and meaningful life for her only son. Now, interference from internal groups would cause conflict and possibly harm him psychologically. This, she would not forgive but she was too long in the tooth now to continue to protect him from other spirits and beings that called themselves gods.


    Animals by name and nature take no other form.


    Physically it would take another creature of power which had been long absent from the world to hurt him. She wasn¡¯t aware of the last time that he had experienced pain on that scale, it could have been during his being locked away, but she had never asked, and he had never remembered. Sometimes, scars were buried so deep that new skin just grew over and it would be as though they were never there. She knew that her appearance never gave off the impression of the amount of suffering and loss that she had once experienced as a child, no she was only known as a key scientist and researcher who had once been considered essential to the cause of the facility.


    She didn¡¯t know how he would react to a conflict on such a scale. Whether he would still stick to the rules and guidelines that she had spent decades imprinting on him or if he would react accordingly and more in line with his actual nature.


    Alexa would need to take the time to remove herself from her research centre. She was not without her power and influence despite her relatively quiet demeanour and passive-seeming personality. You didn¡¯t work hard for a century without developing the necessary tools and experience to take out threats. The witch with the stolen eye would burn if she caused her only son distress or discomfort, her energies were taken not gifted.


    It was time she learned that power was earned and not stolen. First, a quick phone call to another old woman who acted as her military counterpart. Then Alexa would have to see what else needed to be fixed in the name of motherly love.

 Book 1 Ch 10: Lost Purpose

    The being that called itself a god felt confused. The world had changed to the point of almost becoming unrecognisable, the people moved so fast these days, not better but faster. Their brains were connected to electrical signals that they carried with them or connected to all around within the atmosphere. The speed was both faster and slower than previously before, with more near-constant signals but the quality had dropped.


    As though there had been a shift in the state of the world, it realised that humans had developed technology and more advanced tools in their way but the amount of communication had become shorter and less refined. More machinery although the amount of free available biological entities had been transformed into small numbers but far more concentrated than before.


    The spiritual environment although noisy was far quieter than before. Where it had been more akin to a busy ecosystem like a jungle with all of the animals, plant life and insects causing a constant drone of noise now there remained a faint buzzing sound that although smaller was immediately noticeable.


    Visible colours were different as well, everything had become a similar shade. Occasionally blotches were seen but there were no longer the bright lights and vivid colours that there had once been. Stars once shone in the vision of the god across the spectrum in locations both near and far. It felt somewhat unsettled.


    Humans were still humans though and there remained the same instinct and primal drive that all homo sapiens had. They desired and fought and loved, all of this was expressed in as many forms as there were colours and shades of colour in existence.


    Still, the god remained confused. Its senses told it that a human being stood in front of it, it breathed and circulated blood within its body and electrical signals and chemical transfers were continually flowing through. This one though was wrong; it had a particular presence around it that should not and could not exist in this type of form.


    This particular god studied the biological forms of living creatures, it examined the skeleton, internal organs even the cell structure and found that it was almost similar to any other living creature in existence. The god remembered the scientific research that it had once carried out in the empires of old, how easily the humans sacrificed themselves to see a purpose that was greater than themselves. The High Priests back then had asked to win wars against their various enemies and build an everlasting empire, the god had chosen to grant their prayers.


    Blood, flesh, and unnaturally enhanced bone provided a form of enhancement to the soldiers who fought, boosting their natural skills and abilities with unnatural vitality. They would continue to fight even if they lost limbs and blood loss meant little when the coagulation process happened so quickly that any cut or wound closed off almost immediately. Not healed though, no, it did not want to give all the gifts that were at its disposal. Research and true enlightenment were to be hoarded as was any true treasure, it needed further test subjects for experimentation and perfection.


    Slaves, soldiers, and beggars became minor deities in themselves for short spaces of time on the battlefields. Cutting the head off led to a faster death it was true but for the space of dozens of seconds more their bodies would continue to fight on. Living biological reactors are designed to kill in a controlled scientific environment. Oh, how the god had enjoyed these times when the most powerful would seek its favour through forms of human and animal sacrifice.


    Aliens for the god meant outsiders from a different region, even if it was capable of differentiating between types of humans. It saw biological building blocks fit for purpose, all living beings regardless of size, species or type were clay that could be sculpted into new forms.


    Or transformed. It had forgotten a large part of itself during its time in enforced captivity. The human it reminded itself, stood in front of it with arms raised outward in supplication but without fear or hesitation. He should be offering prayers and asking for sufficient gifts, to become more than he was, to live longer, remove afflictions of the mind and body or to reduce the suffering of a loved one.


    The being that thought of itself as a god would answer all prayers that had been passed to it in its form as it had done with the single villager who had survived the slaughter of his people. His soul had tasted sour filled with extreme disbelief of the spirit world, and the god had allowed it to pass onwards rather than use it for fuel as he had known respect and in turn, it had provided him with his desires of vengeance.


    It knew what an amygdala was, but it would be the same as a person breathing in and out, a purely unconscious reflex action that was undertaken by the body. Any living being did not need to think about breathing and know exactly what it was doing and the biological processes that both affected themselves and their natural environment.


    The god considered itself a scientist of sorts, although the actual term was slippery for it to grasp. It knew that the purpose that it held was to make humans into better forms, the same for all lifeforms that passed in front of it. To enhance them to become better or more diverse, failure and death were part of the path to a process of absolute perfection.


    If the god was able to be asked directly in terms that it understood, it would reply that it was a god-maker on a path to creating an ultimate form. Purpose, it knew, was hard to find but desirable in all forms. It never claimed to be sane. To create a true physical living god that existed in the flesh but lacked all semblance of the spirits was the embodiment of all that it held. Even if that god turned on it and destroyed its essence the being that called itself a god would have


    ¡®Do you require any sustenance great one?¡¯


    Came the voice from the human dressed in the leather jacket and dark grey jeans with a light purple scarfwrapped around his neck.


    His body was slim enough around his waist but tapering up to broader shoulders and a surprisingly handsome face with wire-rimmed glasses and dark brown hair. If the god recognised beauty by human standards, it would have called him a handsome man, alas the god only appreciated what lay inside the body. Flesh, bones, organs, genetic structure and potential flaws and illnesses to be ironed out.


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    The man could pass for being in his late twenties except for his eyes which held a trace of coldness inside them. His mouth was creased into a firm smile, and he stood in front of the statue aware of the presence of the god within, but his body was firm without a trace of hesitation or nervousness.


    ¡®You do not answer my questions. I fully understand you need time to process this new world that you find yourself in. I do not think that is the technology of man that addles your mind, you feel the lack, no, the absence. In time you will understand how the world has changed for both your kind and mine. I will leave you to your thoughts as you are our most esteemed guest ancient one.¡¯


    The god felt confusion once more. According to the rules that had been set when it had first been imprisoned the man had no temporary means of protection against it. Instinct was a hard creature to stop and when several creatures of similar species were placed in front of it the urge to induce immediate change into a higher form took priority.


    This would in turn give time to humans to have a small degree of protection within the vicinity of the god while they performed other tasks. It hadn¡¯t helped that the confines that it had been kept in diluted its ability to rationally think and act, the captors that had controlled it and kept it isolated from the outside world had severely limited its interaction with any forms of new technology that humans had created.


    When the man had arrived in the desert region outside of the massive, forested area the god had first assumed that he was a mere wanderer of the desert regions, but his actions had been unsettling, he had begun talking about a blank emptiness and a shift in minds and how he was there to assist the god in finding new forms in its mission.


    His presence was unnoticed by the god at first and although it was not surprising it found itself initially lacking in what response to take. Not to attack mostly out of curiosity as the man held a particular presence that encouraged all to listen to him.


    All that he had asked the god was it listened to him on occasion, not act nor any knowledge that it might possess regarding the fields of biology and change but simply listen to his spoken words. The man had talked about the statue of the god and how we would carry it to a city full of light and darkness in a short time, it only needed to be patient and work with him.


    He had utilised a technology that the being had never seen before, it flew on the winds with noise and smoke but it was organic except for the smallest part of it. A single red outline that was crouched in the front part of the design, was almost shielded but not quite. There was a gap that could be taken advantage of so the being thought about using the last of its power to take it and transform it into one final meal.


    When it had reached its power to take control of the unprotected organic matter onboard the flying vehicle it had been blocked. It was not like a chariot with wings but a construction or a tool that was used to enable it to fly. In some ways the being admired the design and considered how much resources it would take to build in but in a purely organic fashion.


    ¡®If you try to kill my hard-working staff, I will have to act ancient one. You will find the sustenance you need once we enter the city. I promise your hunger will be assuaged. I only need to ask you a single question. Are you a god or an animal?¡¯


    An animal would always eat food places in front of it when hungry, but a sentient being would consider first if it was a trap, it would be able to choose to eat or starve to death. To be reduced to a lower form of life had been the ultimate humiliation, the god was fed and eaten in turn without maintaining a constantly higher level of awareness.


    The souls of animals did not provide enough sustenance or sufficient power for them to perform beyond minor transformations of flesh, bone, and muscle. The decay that set in was almost immediate and it had been unable to measure enough variables.


    Each time it had animals in wooden cages placed in front of it by patient villagers it now realised that it had attempted to perform the same experiment too many times. To transfer the essence of the animals into the opposite form barring species. Red-plumaged birds would turn into blue-plumaged birds, wild pigs would turn into domesticated animals. Genetic alteration at its most basic, to escape and locate higher forms of life should have temporarily increased the adrenalin flow and aggression instincts, but it lacked even the most basic understanding.


    Such as the fate of the imprisoned. Without sufficient education and outside stimulation, even the sharpest minds would slowly lose their edge. Hunger. The god felt the need for further essence to devour and transform.


    When they arrived in the city, the god was unable to understand why the human population had reached such high levels. The man had kept to his promise and allowed it to both eat and experiment before the results were released back into the dirty streets to find a cleaner death than at the hands of the living god.


    Its statue had been placed in a secure warehouse and the man frequently came to visit by himself after several close accidents had almost happened with members of his staff. The last time that he had approached after the final incident and he had shown marginal signs of displeasure. Standing in front of the statue in the middle of the empty warehouse he spoke clearly and softly.


    ¡®Would you prefer something sweeter to eat? We can certainly find something for those of discerning taste like yourself.¡¯


    The god heard the voice of the man inside its mind but still felt uncertain about responding directly, it wasn¡¯t quite frozen in the way that an animal would stop and hesitate when it sensed danger but a subtle wrongness that gave off a sort of warning.


    Aberration. Mortal yet not. Do not cross.


    It felt certain that the man communicated by using an unmodified meat tongue and forcing air through alone but there was something wrong with him. A distance too far for it to reach alone. The lack of other lights was too confusing still, it caused some initial thoughts of pain and loneliness. The other lights used to fight each other, this was normal, the strongest would take and eke out their niche and the weaker ones would be relegated to the sides until the battle was once again joined.


    A single word came into its mind unbidden. Melammu. The presence that should not exist within a mortal frame had been taken by this creature, this man. He had followed the path of demi-gods of old and stolen power that had not belonged to him. The path of gods lay before this man but he had retained his organic mortal form and not abandoned it to become a being of pure energy and raw power.


    Death. Punishment. The gods and spirits of the planet Belphus would allow no mortal hands to possess such power, but the world felt so silent to the living god. An absence of any real active presence concerned it, that, and its near lack of power over biological organisms. To retreat into its statue which served as a prison and refuge would become a necessity soon, it would need to preserve enough energy to think and understand the bizarre nature of this new world where the heavens and hells had fallen silent, and the doors and windows had been closed.


    The man stopped his supplication and stood upright; his hands held in front of him with his eyes fiercely glaring under the glasses on his face. He smiled at the living god with the patience and kindness of a man talking to a toddler. Adjusting his purple scarf he adjusted his glasses and spoke.


    ¡®All beings in existence have their set purpose ancient one. You have been fed and kindness has been shown to you as a quest. Would you like us to help you to find your purpose now?¡¯