Vows Broken

The sun cast long shadows in Doctor Niwrad's office as Marcus sat at the table, one arm in a sling. Marcus was being examined. The room was filled with the scent of blood and the soft murmur of Doctor Niwrad's mechanical devices.

Doc had a look of mild annoyance as he checked a healing wound on Marcus's arm. "You have a knack for stumbling into trouble, Marcus. At this rate, I should open a permanent clinic in your house, so you can stay out of mine."

Marcus winced as he pressed gently against the bruised bone in his leg. "Yeah, well, the life of a retired old man isn't all roses and tea, Doc."

With a sigh, Doc set aside his examination tools. "You're lucky, Marcus. Your injuries could have been much worse. But that doesn't mean you should keep pushing yourself this hard. Your arm looks like you lost an arm wrestle with a bear trap."

Marcus gave a half-smile. "Well, I've got some business to attend to, and it's not the tea-sipping kind. You remember Salvador's orders."

Doc raised an eyebrow. "That's a dangerous plan. You went to get some documents and stumbled into my house at 1 in the morning with a broken arm and your arm almost in two. Now you want to break into H.E.A.T for a jailbreak."

Marcus nodded. "That's true. But I've got to get the information he has. Once I know who killed Rachel, I…I will be able to get closure."

Doc studied him for a moment before speaking softly. "And what about that arm of yours? You will only end up worse the more daring escapades you venture on."

Marcus's gaze was resolute. "I can't afford to wait, Doc. Time is of the essence. I need to get inside H.E.A.T. Then, I can find Salvador's missing man and maybe find the files on Rachel's murder. I can't be lost in the dark anymore!"

With a resigned sigh, Doc handed him a vial of healing serum. "Fine, but promise me you'll be careful, Marcus. I don't want to see you back here with even more injuries. Doctor's orders."

Taking the vial, Marcus smiled. "You know I appreciate your care, Doc. I'll do my best to avoid any more rooftop scuffles."

The H.E.A.T facility loomed before Marcus, a massive steel and concrete fortress designed to keep the public calm and secrets inside. He stood across the street, watching as the last rays of light left view. His disguise was that of a maintenance worker was meticulous—complete with a worn uniform, a badge displaying his fake name, and a box filled with tools. He checked his pocket watch and confirmed that the guards' shift change was imminent. A quick double click of the watch played the sounds of two men talking. This was the moment to act.

Hidden beneath his work shirt was a pocket containing the forged security credentials he'd created from the documents he'd copied from Pritchard's study. With a final breath, he calmly approached the guarded entrance as he'd done countless times before. Once inside the first door, Marcus turned to his left where two armed security personnel were in the front office. Now as it was shift change over for the guards the night guard. One is an older man who had been doing this for years, and the other is a new guard who was exhausted from a long day and hasn't seen enough seasons to see through the forged documents or remember Marcus's face.

"Evening," Marcus greeted them with a tired smile, his voice brimming with the exhausted demeanor of a worker at the end of a long shift. "I'm here to fix the electrical issue in Sublevel 3. Got a busted circuit, and they want it sorted before the next shift."

The guard closest to him eyed the ID badge Marcus presented, squinting at the name. "V. Smith, huh? You're not the usual guy."

Marcus nodded. "Boss sent me instead. Said it's urgent."

The second guard was still preoccupied with preparing his meal to start his day. Only exchanged a few mumbled words with the young man before he waved Marcus through. "Fine, go on in. They never tell us anything."

As Marcus stepped through the turnstile gate, up to the desk to sign in to the daily log book. He'd made it past the first obstacle, but the facility was a labyrinth of security measures as he went further into the facility, and he needed to stay focused.

The blueprint he'd acquired was etched into his memory as the holding cells are not on any regular map. He would need it to navigate through the security checkpoints to even access the sublevels. With a clear goal in mind—retrieving the information that could lead to Rachel's killer—he continued deeper into the facility, trying his best to blend in with the staff in these hours of darkness.

The facility's layout was complex, with countless doors and even more secrets. However, only two held any interest, Marcus confidently made his way through the lamp-lit corridors. He glanced at his pocket watch. With a quick series of 3 clicks, the watch stuttered and let out one quick hiss of steam. "The guard has not left his office yet."

The first part of the plan had gone off without a hitch, but the hardest challenges lay ahead. Marcus needed to avoid any stray staff that may recognize him, navigate past locked doors, and maintain his cover. The Guards had given him a slim set of master keys so he could access down to the third sub-level, but that would not be far enough.

As he reached a particularly secure-looking door, Marcus paused. According to the blueprint, this was the entrance to the classified area. He reached into his toolbox and retrieved a small device, which he discreetly attached to the control panel. With a push of a button, the device sputtered to life, whistling and grinding as it forced the lock open granting him access. As an ex-employee, any information pertaining to Marcus himself or that involves him will be in here.

Marcus slipped inside the classified area, feeling the tension rise with every step. The information he needed was close, and his determination grew stronger. His path led him to a cylindrical brass housing with engraved patterns that evoke intricate clockwork artistry. On the top, a polished glass dome allows a view of the mesmerizing inner workings. The dome features etched markings reminiscent of an old-world globe. At its core, it houses a series of cylindrical brass cylinders, each engraved with delicate, complex patterns of gears and symbols. The cylinders, which look like oversized phonograph records, Marcus approached the machine and with practiced motion began to turn knobs and move levers knowing this web of interlocking gears, cogs, and levers surrounds the cylinders. These gears rotate smoothly, engaging with precision as data is encoded or decoded. Some gears spin at different speeds, resembling a mechanical symphony. This allowed him to remove the phonographs currently inside of this Cipher Phonograph machine and swap in the relevant one from the cabinet behind him. Within minutes, Marcus could see through the thin glass portholes set into the brass -- revealing moving parts, intricate clockwork mechanisms, and the engraved cylinders inside. Colored glasses, illuminated by softly glowing light bulbs, flow through transparent tubes and give the device a mesmerizing, mysterious aura.

Marcus could feel his pocket watch begin to grind before it let out two quick whistles. The guard has left his office and is getting closer. The information encrypted by this machine can only be deciphered by one of the same make -- it is now or never. The large brass horn begins to allow a voice to escape, A soft voice can be heard on the other end as she begins to read out Marcus's life before him. Unable to skip to the information he needs and being forced to wait, a second series of puffs can be heard this time in three's. Marcus knows he's probably on the first sub level now only 2 floor's away.

After an eternity of memories and reports had passed, Marcus reached that day. The woman took a breath as she explained. "Now we reach the information pertaining to the death of Rachel Hathaway, Marcus's lover. The following details are a recounting of the lead investigator Mark Summer's as he saw them when he arrived on the scene. This report has been divided into sections for documentation purposes"

The Body:

Upon entering, the air was laced with the acrid smell of smoked meat and burned hair. As I moved through the home nothing seemed out of place of disturbed, two chairs were still pulled out in the kitchen, a lone cup of tea sat on a plate before one of the chairs. Allowing my eyes to adjust to the dimly lit room, the sight before me was unsettling.

The Bedroom:

Moving into the bedroom, decorated with art supplies and paintings, this small cramped room seemed to have become the epicenter of a horrifying crime. In the midst of the blowing curtains, chaos reigned. The victim's charred remains lay on the stained wooden floor, her life extinguished in a macabre spectacle. Strangely, despite the blaze that had consumed her, the room itself bore no signs of fire damage.

The Body:

Rachel Hawthorn's body was unrecognizable due to the extensive burns that had ravaged her. Only sparse remnants of her gown clung to the body. The charring extends from her legs up to her torso, arms, and the front of her neck. It's notable that her legs and feet show comparatively less fire damage, which implies that the source of the fire or ignition was likely situated closer to her upper body. Despite the intense heat exposure, it is possible to make out traces of her original features, including long, flowing hair that has partially escaped the flames. Her extremities, specifically the fingers, appear to be in a better state than the rest of her upper body.

"Above was all information provided to the agent in question, the official cause of death is murder by arson. The official report is more accurate."

The lack of fire damage to the room and the preservation of the wooden fixtures and floor presented an all to common puzzle. How could Rachel have burned so intensely in a room that showed no evidence of fire? As well as the fire being localized to mainly her upper body? The circumstances surrounding her death left this investigator with only one outcome. Rachel Hawthorn was murdered with magic.

"Due to the physical damage Marcus Bray took to his body on the last mission, the emotional turmoil this loss will add and his growing age, we have decided to terminate Marcus Bray from his role as an investigator and allow him to leave the agency in honors. This concludes the file on Marcus Bray."

As Marcus exits the secure file room, he quickly glances at his pocket watch, its ornate mechanical face indicating the exact time. Having to hurry to make up for the missing time, Marcus rushes to a restroom located on the floor. A sense of urgency floods through him as he hears that the guard is making his way to the same floor.

"Where did that mechanic run off to? He's supposed to be working." Marcus heard that man coming nearer. With a quick pull of the chain, the reservoir above the toilet allowed the water to flow into the bowl. The unmistakable sound of the flush led the guard straight to him. "There you are Mr. Smith. How is the repair coming?"

Marcus's heart races in his chest knowing how long his long history working into the night on cases here, and the times they would talk casually in the break room over coffee. If they met eye to eye, the sparse hair dye and mechanics clothes would not hide his identity for long. The flickering gas lamps cast eerie shadows throughout the small room. The two stalls felt like glass, aware of every creaking floorboard Marcus had to make a move.

"Should be done shortly with the swap. After that I will have to test to be sure it can hold up to the pressure again. Gotta love these late night rush orders." A disconcerting awareness lingers in the back of his mind. If he takes too long to leave the facility, more suspicion will be raised against him.

The guard takes up a post in the stall beside Marcus. "If I'm on another patrol when you finish up, just leave a note by the book, and I will finish the log out for you." The faint trickle of fluid striking porcelain can be heard as he talks. "Gotta keep the logs neat they always say." As he leaves, the door swings behind him, and a flash of light fills the room.

As the door swings back, emerging from the darkness of the room shrouded in smoke and embers, Marcus finds himself covered in dark leather as ash rains down from above. "You never get used to that." Making his way into the maintenance corridor and down the stairs towards the depth of the facility. Reaching a tight passage, Marcus squeezes in between the walls and creeps within. Words turn to whispers as he makes his way towards the holding room. Those working none the wiser.

"You're just an outcast, Rixon of the Western Front." The words of a woman caught his attention. "Give up the location of the Princess, and I will allow you to remain my pet."

Drawing a small spike from his pocket, Marcus pierces the wall to peer inside. Sitting at a table in front of a cell of lightning is a woman dressed in all blue, her sharp eyes of almonds showing her boredom and fatigue. Her high cheekbones are wrapped in a golden hue. The only woman Marcus ever rejected in his youth is now the last person he wished to see again. Just sitting there preparing her tea, Elora Soul.

"You just sit there in meditation day in and out since we caught you leaving the scene of the crime." Elora places some dry tea leaves into her pot. "All I want is you to betray your comrades and concede your life as a pet under my foot. Is that really a lot?"

As the first step of tea finishes, she poured it into her cup. "At this point, I would take any reaction from you. You're just a statue like a little tea pet, isn't that right my little friend?" She looks down at a small statue of a tiger on his tea board.

"You know what, why not treat you like one?"

Stepping up from the table, Elora grabs her cup and splashes it against the cage, a spray of tea making it past the crackling bar striking Rixon's face. "SO HOW IS IT? Even this wash is too good for you!" Elora walks to the cabinet beside the table to collect some vials, then sits back down in her chair. "If you would just talk to me, maybe I wouldn't have to do this to you. You know I do this out of love." Pouring another cup of tea for herself. "I love all my pets, and you will be no different. Why do you have to make me do this?"

Elora pulled out a syringe and needle from her pocket. " Alas, I have to do this for your own good. I can't keep you if I don't get anything out of you, and I know you don't want to be all alone again. I rescued you from those mean guards and gave you a much warmer welcome and have offered you company."

Filling the syringe with the fluid from one of the vials. "You owe me. You should see me as the hero I am!" Elora injects the fluid into another vial and proceeds to shake the vial now containing two fluids till combined. "Just like all my other pets -- I rescued them all… I take such good care of them all. You will be my favorite. Oh what will you become? Will the beast within come out? Will it consume you? Or will you be special and consume it instead?" Sticking the needle back into the vial and drawing back a vibrant blue serum that had a faint glow to its edges.

"Don't worry, I will love whatever you become." Elora walks towards the cage out of view of Marcus.

"Fire Magic: White Roar!" Elora flies backwards across the room as waves of fire rip through the small room, leaving everything unburned.

"Sounds like my que, Thunder Door!"

Lightning shoots across the wall forming a rectangle in front of Marcus that burns through the wall with a thunderous quake, sending wooden shards into the room and leaving flames behind.

"Rixon of the Elves? Are you here?" walking into the room, the floor covered in broken glass and liquids of all colors paint the floor in a rainbow of toxins and potions alike. A strange vapor begins filling the room.

"Marcus?" a deep voice echoes forwarth in the small space. Marcus turns to see a hulking elven man standing in the cell, His goatee ragged and untrimmed the only hair on his head, Strands of Silver form an ornate symbol of a star alone in the night sky covers his forehead embossed into his head, his star filled eyes met marcus's as his ragged cloak frame his body.

"Do I know you? I was sent to rescue you from here." Marcus scans the room to see Elora beginning to wake up. Without a second thought, Marcus pulls his revolver with a large extension on the barrel.

"Lightning piercer!" With coldness in his heart, a silent bullet leaves the barrel propelled by sparks and strikes Elora in the head.

"I can not afford to be seen here." A large thud comes from the door.

"Elora! There was a lot of noise! The test subjects were all riled up! We need your help! Come fast!" The man pounds on the door again.

"We have to hurry and get out of here!" Marcus swipes the keys from her belt and moves to unlock the cell door. "The door knob seems to have melted from your spell earlier. We got lucky."

"My flames will only burn what I tell them to, but it requires more of my strength. Can we escape the way you came?"

Rixon walks over and pours himself the cup of tea that has now steeped just enough. "She loved our culture, but all the worst parts." As they make their way back within the walls of the facility, the sounds of screaming and panic can be heard, a loud crash behind them and the roar of a beast fill the corridor. "Sounds like her pets are on the loose without their master."

"Let them cover our tracks." As they reach the top of the stairs Marcus buries all regret. " We will have to escape out of an upper floor window; the front door is out of the question. We just need to make it out unseen."

Racing through the building dodging the stray worker, they make it to the start of the stairs to the second floor as Marcus hears a ticking coming from his pocket. With heavy eyes he looks down to find that it is his pocket watch.

"What's wrong!? we have to go!" a scream can be heard in the background. "Those beasts are gonna catch up!" The ticks become faster and faster. "Why are you frozen…" Footsteps can be heard from above them making their way down the stairs.

A faint mumbling can be mistaken for the cries of beasts "Anyone else…. Those beasts won't be kind. I can not be seen… She won't be able to rest." Marcus clenches his fist. "I won't be able to rest, I can't lose anything else." he begins reaching for his holster. "Nothing else matters. I must find out who stole my happy ending from me.."

The ticking becomes quiet as the person comes into view. " Quick and painless, my old friend. No matter how many nights you checked in on me, more calm sleepless nights you will haunt." Without the dignity of a noise, his body falls limp down the stairs with all the haste he was making. "I don't ask for your forgiveness." Marcus blitzes towards the stairs, catching the old man in his arms.

"Who was he?"

"Just an old man who would talk too much."

"Why are you here?"

"To rescue you."

"No, why are you here?"

"I just need answers. This is the only way."

"Are the questions worth the answers?"

"I won't know until I have them." Marcus grabs his keys. "Let's go." They make for the back of the building finding an empty room with a window looking out over the alley below.

"Thank you, for your help. Who do I owe for this rescue?" Rixon offers a bow.

"Wait….." A whip of lightning flies from Marcus' fingers shattering the wall behind him making one massive window that lets the wind rage inside as the whip is drawn back into his hand and concentrates at his fingertips. "You're not one of Salvador's men?" Marcus stands between Rixon and the window, the cool night air filling the room.

"Of course they would make a request of that old Pirate King. If you need something in this city that's impossible, he will find it for you." Rixon puts his hands into the air as he begins