Prelude To Chaos (3)

Leaving the police department and catching a bus ride home, Bazel watched the scenery go by as he ignored the few people on the bus gawking at his looks.

'Working with the department is not too bad, we both benefit from the others help. Especially considering that I am currently the only person who possesses the kind of power that could perhaps tilt the scale in the favor of the locals, although I doubt I alone am enough to hold back the tide for too long. If I can help out I might as well, but helping them is but a means to an end'

The bus arrived at his stop and so he walked out and onto the street, a short while later he arrived at his humble home. It was small and pathetic when compared to the McGrath mansion or the literal castle that the Sanguis had made their HQ but it was something that he had earned with years of hardwork and dedication, all so that his family of two could have a place to call their own.

Unlocking and opening the door, he stepped in and was greeted by a familiar sight and a familiar smell. Memories rushed to him, the fog that surrounded them being banished in real time, and he recalled the day that he had first surprised Lily with this home.

He remembered the happy tears, he remembered the proud look, and he remembered the tackle like hug he got in return.

Walking through the halls, past the kitchen, and up towards his room he remembered when he and Lily went out to purchase each and every furnishing that he walked past. He recalled the times when the two of them would try to wake up earlier than the other in order to make breakfast that day...

Each and everything he saw had a memory or two attached to it which brought to him extreme anguish and sorrow.

Opening the door to his room he thought,

'I should probably not come here again, at least until the fight with House Sanguis has concluded. Not to mention being constantly reminded of my failure to protect Lily...damn it...'

Laying down on his bed, he tried his best to enter the state of sleep that his tired body and mind so desperately required and fervently demanded but he was just unable to. The stress he was under and the anxiety about the uncertain future were eating away at him, not allowing his body to properly relax and properly fall asleep.

He lay looking at his ceiling, slowly being torn apart from within, until his partner appeared from underneath him and wriggled its way out.

Purring lightly, the cat made of flaming shadows jumped on Bazel's head and curled up into a ball. Before he could even utter a complaint at being treated like a piece of furniture, he soon found that a coolness had descended upon his mind which chased away his torment. All that was left was his need for sleep and his completely exhausted state.

'...So much has changed so fast. It was not too long ago when all I wanted was to become a Prosecutor, ah, I can barely even remember the names and faces of those I worked with...how strange...'

Sleep soon descended upon him, finally relieving him of reality for a few precious hours.

---

Sitting on a red leather grandfather chair was a well dressed man who looked to be in his early sixties. It was clear that he took excellent care of himself though, for his complexion was rosy and his hair was perfectly maintained. Although he was a little on the rotund side, he looked as healthy as any other man especially considering the light amount of makeup that he was wearing to further boost his image.

Except his expression was of an utter scowl, with a frowning face and deeply wrinkled brow as he looked at the several odd reports that lay on his desk. Each and every single one was from the same place of origin: The Southern Central Police Department.

From left to right was the initial report of a possible new group of organized crime, to an overview of their first major confrontation with them, to the raid on one of their suspected HQ's, and then an updated report that revealed the new terrorist organization designation and how powerful they truly were.

"Damned fool of a police chief, what the hell does he think he is messing with? These are far beyond mortal means...they are gods and we are men. Men do not argue with gods, question them, or even hope to confront them. They fall in line, fall in line and do as they are told..." muttered the man, who was without a doubt the Governor of Occultatum.

On the desk of the Governor was a picture, him posing with a bible as he was sworn in for his second term as Governor of Occultatum. He had on a smooth smile and was far thinner than his current iteration, he noticed the picture out of the corner of his eye and sighed in defeat.

'Simpler times, simpler times indeed. Back when I had the silly idea that all this mumbo jumbo was a silly joke that I was informed about, told through whispers by high level federal officials who tried dropping hint after hint. Look at me now, faced with reality right in front of me. I regret laughing in their faces and calling them tinfoil hatted lunatics back then. I suppose the disappointment and pity they looked at me with makes perfect sense now, what an idiot I was.'

The Governor then grabbed one specific request that lay at the head of his desk, reading it over one last time while chuckling and then crumpling it up and throwing it into an empty wastebasket.

"Foolish, too foolish. So what if I call in the national guard? Even if we assume that they have not already been infiltrated, so what if I help them in taking down this single threat. These are but mere crumbs compared to what is truly coming, hell, these entities control the entire rest of the country in one way or another...I will only be delaying the inevitable."

Leaning back and relaxing in his luxurious seat, the Governor felt pleased with himself as he comforted his slightly guilty conscious with the fact that it was pointless to go against the inevitable. He began to clear his desks of the reports, throwing them into the trash one by one when he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

Buzzing the person in, the Governor watched as one of his favorite assistants walked into the room.

"Sir, a request for a meeting has been sent in" said the woman who walked in, who for some reason decided to fold her arms when she entered the room so as to emphasize her bust.

"Let me guess," said the Governor while rolling his eyes, "its Southern Central again."

The woman nodded in response as she walked up to the Governor's desk and placed a memo on it, making sure to lean down a little bit farther than was necessary.

The Governor picked the memo up, tearing his gaze from the pleasurable sight in front of him, and read what was on it.

"DASF? A meeting between myself and Special Adviser Vasa, what the hell is this DASF thing and who the hell is this Vasa guy?" wondered the Governor aloud as he dismissed his assistant, his eyes glued onto her swaying hips and plump behind.

The Governor just shrugged off the request, like he had all the others from the insane Southern Central, and threw it into the trash alongside the rest.

Curiously enough, the memo halted in mid air as a black tendril of something grabbed onto it and lifted it into the air.

"Defense Against Supernatural Forces, Special Adviser Vasa...Nice to meet you Sir Governor" said a voice full of annoyance from behind the Governor.

Before he could react, specifically to press the panic button under his desk, he found that his arms and legs were bound by that accursed abyssal black appengage. Experiencing no small amount of pain, he was lifted up by the shadows and brought to where Bazel was standing.

Forcing the Governors hand open with his shadow, he handed the memo back towards him and said sarcastically, "Thank you for accepting my meeting. How about we...change the venue?"

The Governor was then lifted up and over Bazel's head and thrown into the portal that he was standing in front of without a care in the world.