Strong Acid

[Kikuyu_Black_Paws]

“All is going according to plan then?”

 

“Yes, sire. Ian took care of the last preparations around eleven.”

 

“Very good...then our operation should take place without a twitch. You know your duty?”

 

“Yes sire...Jeremy-”

 

“Do not speak the name! Our enemies are everywhere. We must use the utmost caution at times like these. Go. See that you gather them all for this. I don’t want a single thing to go wrong.”

 

“Yes sire. As you say.”

 

 

 

It was a cold, misty night. Those who were out in the cobblestone streets held their jackets up over their heads, rushing home as the rain spattered down in large drops. Whenever lightning flashed the swiftly roiling clouds overhead could be seen, their bulging, black and blue bruised edges writhing in turmoil above. The streetlamps slowly flickered on as the darkness fell, creeping along the streets.

 

In an ally, six tall shadows waited, ignoring the rain. Their long cloaks, tattered and dirty at the edges, seemed to melt into the shadows. Lamplight glided across cheekbones and damp hair. From the man at their head, a glittering eye caught the firelight from the lamps like a bright coin. As if on command, the eye dimmed and they became shadows. In wraith-like stillness, they waited.

 

The hours passed. No wanderer moved along the streets now as the great clock of the city chimed the midnight hour. The man at the front turned his head ever so slightly, his hair falling into his eyes. Still they waited. None moved.

 

Footsteps smacking against the wet pavement made not an impression among them, though to a trained eye it was determinable that this was what they had been waiting for. The man at the front lifted his head, his chin having sunk down to his breast as if drowsy. Again his bright coin eye glittered in the light, and a twisted, sharp smile stretched his thin, pale lips. Without a word he led the six out into the street, fleeting shadows against the storefronts and townhouses.

 

The man who had arrived on the street was tall, his dark hair stringy with wet. The rain poured over his long jacket, and he held the collar of his coat tight about his ears with gloved hands to keep out the cold. Silently the cloaked men split along the streets, three to a side, and followed him.

 

The pursued paused, as if he had heard something, and turned. He scanned the lonely streets, straining his ears as he sought to pick up a noise, any noise. Only the pattering rain came to him, the clinking of rain striking a metal surface echoing eerily down the street. Slowly, the four lampposts nearest him fizzled out in the downpour. The man shivered and fingered his coat collar, casting a final glance behind him. He turned around again.

 

Never had he been more surprised and horrified. An inch from him, his nose almost touching his own, was a tall man of his own height. His hair was long and silvery grey, falling in long locks about his face. His right eye concealed by the filigree hair, the man stared at him from a single golden eye that glittered like a bright coin in the darkness. What little light there was from the flickering lightning slid along his pale, gaunt features like the water that streamed along his skin and cloak.

 

The man started as the horror before him rested a hand on his shoulder, staring at him with all the seriousness of a long-time friend. The man’s eyes moved slowly to the source of the steady tink-tink-tink of rain hitting metal. In the wraith’s other hand was a long blade, slightly curved at the end. Engraved in the metal was the label H2SO4.

 

“Then it is you,” the man whispered. “Who sent out the call?”

 

“No one,” the wraith whispered. “Cleaning out the garbage is a personal job.”

 

The long edge of the cold blade rested against the man’s breastbone. He flinched, but kept his gaze fixed on the single eye of the man before him. “I guess this is it then, Jeremy.”

 

The man’s eye flashed and he raised the sword. “My name,” he said in a soft voice that hissed like burning acid, “is H2SO4.”

 

The sword came slicing down without a sound.

 

 

 

“Justin, come to me.”

 

“Yes sire?”

 

“We cannot continue as we are now. Life is too dangerous for us to go on in such animosity. We must become well known. The others will know what to do. Gather them together. I will speak with them.”

 

“Yes sire.”

 

 

 

The large circular room was painted red. It was a dark red, so dark it appeared brown until the light hit it. Torches were hung on the walls every few feet, and between each torch stood a cloaked man.

 

H2SO4 stood at the center, watching each of them from his one visible eye. The guild trademark was the right eye. As the central man turned, gazing at all of his faithful warriors, only their left eye could be seen. The right eye was carefully obscured, for reasons that only H2SO4 knew. Each had a symbol emblazoned onto the backs of their cloaks. For H2SO4 himself it was a long white wing. H2SO4 smiled grimly as his eyes rested on his second in command, Justin, with his cool calculating gaze. Justin, alias HNO3, had a gnarled bat-like wing, a dragon’s wing. HCl, also known as Ian, had a bone upon his shoulders. HI, Nathaniel, had a single grouping of feathers. HBr, the wild one, with his dark tinted lips, had the sign of a spike. H2SO4 could not help smirking. That Saul was indeed a cruel one. Almost as cruel as himself. Lastly, HClO4, Peter, had an orb of dark light that seemed to swirl into non-existence while doubling back on itself.

 

H2SO4 spread wide his long-fingered hands. “My brothers,” he said in his soft voice, his single eye narrowed in the very sign of wickedness. “The time has come for the others to acknowledge us.”

 

A slow chuckled went around the group. H2SO4 nodded. “Yes...they have held us in low esteem for far too long. But then, it was not so long ago when we were but a group of orphans, all of us. All of us forgotten, ignored. All of us with a deep pain that burned like the acids we are named for. Soon we will move to a new place, where we will engage in the devilish game of strike and kill. Soon those petty Samurai, and the even more foolish Knights,” here the man paused, savoring his hatred for the mere names of the other gangs before he continued, “soon they will understand. Acids may seem dormant for a time, but while they rest, they burn.” H2SO4’s eye glittered and he pressed his fingers to his chest. “I am named for one of the weakest among you,” he said softly. “And that attests that even the weakest is potent. You have each performed admirably. We strike out before dawn. Wear civilian clothes. On the morrow, we mingle.”

 

 

 

The streets were filled with morning shoppers, workers, and street children. Six solemn men in tunics and leggings walked down the street. A few of them wore travel stained cloaks, some wide-brimmed hats with plumes. Three of them, including the man at their head, had hair that fell before their right eyes. A few wiser civilians parted ways as the men walked down the street. One of the three had an eye patch across his right orb, another had a cloth pulled down over his eye, and the tallest, with sandy hair and an easy smile, seemed to fade in and out of shadows that pooled around the right side of his face. As a group of laughing street urchins rushed by he laughed and ruffled one’s hair. The man at the front cast him a slightly amused glance, but his mouth did not move in a smile.

 

The street gave way to the marketplace which ran in a long circle around the main road. After about a mile the cobblestones turned to dirt and the surroundings became farmland.

 

At a local inn the six men rented long-legged horses, the best that money could buy. They were well known at the place, their gold spoken for without words. As the last of the storm clouds gushed away to the north the six riders galloped south into the wastes and the lands claimed by all of the guilds, witches, wizards, and unsavory urchins of world.

 

Night fell quickly in the woods that soon surrounded them. Owls hooted duskily to each other from the high branches as the men trotted in single-line down the well beaten track. Justin glanced up at the darkness overhead as he felt the tips of an owl’s wing brush his cheek.

 

They came to a clearing with a fire-pit, a known place to the troupe, and picketed their horses among the trees. Lighting a small fire, they gathered around it, wrapping themselves in their cloaks and coats as the mist rose from the ground. The night was about to get very cold.

 

“My lads,” Jeremy said, his single visible eye reflecting the starlight as he gazed at the thousands of sparkling orbs above, “you know why we are come this way. I must say now something I do not say often. I trust in each and every one of you. I trust your character as I trust your abilities. Should anything happen to me, I place Justin in charge.” He lowered his gaze so that his glittering eye could pierce them all with undisputable command. “You all know this as the best choice.”

 

The men nodded, bowing their heads to Justin in turn. Justin stared into the fire, seemingly detached from it all.

 

Jeremy nodded. “Good. Now, you know the reputation and hostility of these woods. Right now we are on the edge of a new wizard’s territory. He does not know of us or our power. On the morrow we will visit him and introduce ourselves in a civilized way. If he proves troublesome we will move to force, and only if.” Jeremy’s eye swiveled to center on Saul. “So behave yourself.”

 

The man with dark charcoal smeared on his lips pouted, a small growl protruding from his lips as he fingered one of his many knives. “Very well,” he muttered in a suave voice.

 

Jeremy gave a brief smile that faded quickly from his face. “Good. Now, get some rest. It is a big morning we all have tomorrow.”

 

 

 

The night drifted slowly as the hours crept past. Jeremy twitched in his sleep, his one visible eye closed. But a faint shimmer from beneath his hair indicated that his other eye, his unseen eye, was awake and watchful.

 

One of the men opened his eyes, unmoving. His hair was pulled back into a long horsetail, his lips tainted with charcoal or some other dark paint. Slowly he sat up, looking about him with a small frown on his face.

 

He disappeared into the trees, backing away from the camp and circling around.

 

Through the trees crept a man dressed in rags and breathing with the heaviness of one who is trying to suppress their noise. A knife was in his hands and he had his eyes fixed on the circle of robed men before him.

 

Something hard and round was pressed to his temple and a hand brushed his throat. The man stopped, his mouth gaping with horror.

 

Saul glared at the man from over his black-plated gun. “What are you doing here?” he whispered.

 

The peasant gasped hoarsely, his eyes popping in horror. A gurgle of a scream burst from between his lips and he made a run for it, but Saul pulled him roughly down onto the ground, putting a knee into his chest and pushing the barrel of his gun against his forehead roughly. “I asked you a question, scum!”

 

The peasant began to weep. Saul’s lips curled in fury. “You’re disgusting!” he hissed. “What is to keep me from killing you right now?” The hammer on his gun clicked as he cocked it.

 

“Hold, Saul,” Jeremy said from where he had appeared behind them. “Let us see our little midnight creeper.”

 

Jeremy bent down next to the peasant and stared intently at him with his one eye. Silence grew along the wood until even the sobs of the peasant had stilled. The would-be murderer stared back at Jeremy as if hypnotized.

 

Jeremy’s face contorted. “Kill him,” he said simply.

 

Saul’s mouth stretched into a grin and he raised his wrist, leveling the barrel of the gun on his forehead again.

 

“NO!” the man shrieked. “Please, no! I’ll tell you everything!”

 

Jeremy’s eye glittered in the starlight. “I don’t care about whatever it is you think would interest me. I already know everything I need to know. You’re from one of the petty gangs. Thought you could kill six seasoned thieves and assassins with your petty knife? You, a peasant who sold your own children for a crust?” Jeremy spat on the ground beside the peasant’s face, the spit hissing as it ate into the ground. The peasant shrieked and writhed to pull away, but Jeremy gripped his chin firmly, forcing him to stare into his eye. “You sicken me,” he snarled. “It is people like you who make this world so distasteful.”

 

Jeremy stood and turned away. After he had walked a few steps, he made a swift hand gesture.

 

A single shot caused the four men still around the campfire to turn their already open eye towards the woods. None of them said a word as Jeremy and Saul walked back into the circle, Saul’s gun still smoking.

 

 

 

The six men stood in front of a humble cottage on the edge of the woods. In the back a cow lowed and a few chickens grumbled as they moved about the yard.

 

Saul eyed the little house with a condescending eye. “Quaint,” he said in a sharp voice. “This is supposed to be a wizard’s house?”

 

“Yes,” a warm, pleasant voice said from behind them. “Do you like it?”

 

The six men turned, no surprise on their faces. Before them was a tall, thin man with wavy black hair that fell to just below his earlobes. His ears were pierced with scarlet stones, and he wore an immaculate white shirt and black leggings. His boots were cleaned to perfection as well, even though he was standing in a dirty, dusty road. His eyes were the clearest blue that any of them had seen.

 

Jeremy stepped forward and sank into a low bow, sweeping off his plumed hat. A short smile graced his handsome features and then drifted away again as quickly to wherever his smiles were hidden. “Good day, sir wizard.”

 

The wizard bowed in return. “Good day. Do you really like it though? Perhaps it is too simple?” The wizard waved a hand, colorful sparks flying from his fingertips, and the cottage ballooned into a tall castle-like tower. “There, that’s better.” He smiled in a satisfied way for a few moments before he turned to the unmoved six men before him. “So how can I help you?”

 

“We merely came to introduce ourselves,” Jeremy said tightly. “We are called the Acids. You need not know much about us, other than that at times we will require the use of your land for hiding or camping purposes, and will not tolerate any disruption. Should we need a place to stay, these woods are prime for our hiding places. Do you have any objections?” Jeremy’s eyebrow arched cynically in an obvious laugh at the very thought.

 

The smile was gone from the wizard’s face. “Indeed you are right that I have no interest in knowing anything about you. And I have no desire to enter into a feud with you, a feud that, despite the fact that you would undoubtedly lose, would cost me dear time. I am far too busy for that sort of thing. Very well, you may take use of my land, but be sure that it is in no way close to my home. I will not tolerate a horde of assassins raining down upon my door asking for directions to the nearest hideout.”

 

Jeremy gave a bark of laughter and bowed again. “You amuse me, wizard. We will be sure to stay out of your fine obsidian locks."

 

The wizard gave a short smile. “Very poetic,” he drawled. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have things to do.”

 

Slowly the Acids filed down his path, leaving him standing before his tower. The wizard watched them melt into the trees and he felt a shiver run up his spine. Frowning, he turned and entered his tower. The stones immediately shrank and bulged outwards, forming a moldering stone hut. Smoke began to rise from the chimney and a light appeared in one of the windows as night fell.

 

 

 

The wizard threw his gloves onto a pile of books and, frustrated, bent against the sill of his long window. He peered down at the trees from the great height of his now replaced tower, frowning. Were the so-called ‘Acids’ prowling through his woods at the moment? It did not comfort him to consider it. Their leader gave him a bad feeling and he would have liked nothing better than to dissolve their matter on the spot. But no, it would not do to provoke his new neighbors until he knew more about them.

 

The wizard turned to a small mirror on his table and picked it up, passing his hand before it. “Iboto, wake up!”

 

From the mirror appeared the face of what might have been a scaly lizard, but was more akin to a human’s visage. The eyes were dark blue but had snake-like pupils, slit long-ways and dilating in the light. “Ahhh...Master Slack...what is it I can do for you this fine morning.”

 

“It’s night,” Slack said tightly.

 

The demon’s eyes roved over the hut slowly, taking in the lit lanterns and flickering shadows calmly. “Oh,” it said. “Well then, what is it I can do for you this fine evening?”

 

“I want you to find the presence of one man who should be fairly nearby...he’s the leader of a gang called the Acids; they must be moderately new, I don’t recognize them at all. The entire troupe only shows off their left eyes, and they all wear cloaks of the same general color scheme. Find them and show him to me.”

 

The demon rolled his eyes. “As you command, oh magnanimous one.” His face disappeared as if he had rolled over himself and smoke whirled up before the glass. Slack waited for a few tense moments and then a bunch of trees appeared. There were the six men, sitting about a fire. Their leader had his eye closed, his shoulders hunched as he seemed to drift into sleep. Then his eye opened and caught the light of the fire, causing it to wink unpleasantly. Slack’s lips curled and he could swear that, if he had had hackles, they would be rising. In fact he could feel his hair prickling and he ran a hand through his locks impatiently. He chucked the mirror onto his bed. “Fine, that’s all I wanted.”

 

Iboto’s scaly face appeared in the glass again. “Right creepy one you have there, master. Might I inquire as to who he is and how you know of him?”

 

“They’re our new neighbors,” Slack said irritably. “Now go away.”

 

Iboto sank into the mists of the mirror and then the glass cleared. The demon was gone.

 

Slack sank into one of his easy chairs with a gratified sigh. A crow on a perch not too far away croaked at him. Slack eyed it. “What do you want?”

 

The crow opened its large wings and flapped over to him. In mid-flight it turned into a girl wearing a short dress who sat in his lap, twirling a finger in his hair. “Slack, dear—”

 

“Before you ask me anything, get out of that form!”

 

The girl pouted and then her image twisted to reveal a short young man wearing an apprentice’s robe and slacks. He leapt backwards, planting his hands on his hips. “What’s wrong with it?”

 

“It’s too life-like. You’ve been peeking on the farmer’s daughters again, haven’t you!”

 

The boy blushed. “Erm...noooo...”

 

Slack cast the boy a harsh glare. “If you do it again I’ll remove your eyes for a few days and we’ll see if you dare disobey me after that.”

 

The boy’s cheeks turned a bit pale but he showed no sign that he was afraid. “Poo you and your rules,” he grumped. “Fine, I’ll keep me eyes to myself.”

 

“My eyes to myself,” Slack corrected, sinking lower into his chair and throwing an arm across his gaze, shielding them from the bright light. “Now what did you want?”

 

“Who were those guys you were talking to earlier?”

 

Slack grunted. “Who cares right now? Bring me some milk, or some tea...I don’t care what, just make it hot!”

 

The boy got up without a word and disappeared on the spot. He knew that if he got his master his drink without arguing, he just might receive the information he wanted. Especially if he laced the wizard’s drink with a drop of whisky...maybe more than a drop...

 

“And don’t you dare put any liquor in it!” Slack’s voice snapped after the time tunnel his warping had left. The boy pouted, adding the whisky anyway. It would help him sleep.

 

When the apprentice brought Slack the hot milk the wizard sniffed it, cast a glare the boy’s way, and then sipped it gingerly. “Great witches, Owel! How much did you put in?”

 

Owel scuffed his foot against the stone. “Only half a cup...”

 

The wizard’s burning eyes nearly nailed him to the floor and he fidgeted, fearing punishment, but the wizard drank the milk anyway. “I suppose you only put this in here because you wanted me to tell you about them.”

 

Owel crossed his legs as he sat on the floor and watched his master silently.

 

Slack shook his head and took another gulp of his milk, wincing as the fiery liquor in it burned down his throat. “They are a group of assassins and thieves, called the Acids, who are moving out to the Wastes to make their...exploits known. I do not think this is the last we have heard of them.”

 

Owel slid deep into his own thoughts, his eyes sparkling with hidden ambition. Perhaps...but no, he would never dare. He was safe here. Owel looked back up at his master, his mouth opening to speak, but he stopped with a small smile. Slack had fallen asleep, his chin slipping onto his chest and his hair falling into his eyes. Slowly Owel stood and draped a blanket over his master, and then slid to his own chambers.

 

 

 

Slack woke with a very strong hangover. Alcohol, even the slightest drop, does not hold well with wizards, and Slack had consumed more than a slight drop. He was not happy. Cursing and stumbling, he made his way about his morning chores. The sky was dark with storm clouds and Slack glared up at it, his headache lessening a little as worry took its place. “This sky bodes ill,” he whispered. “Owel!” Slack rushed into the tower, calling for his apprentice. “Owel!”

 

The young man was nowhere to be seen. Slack, his heart growing cold with horrid premonition, rushed to his apprentice’s chambers. They were empty, his things packed. Slack’s mouth opened in shock and he felt a chill shake his spine. “No!” he gasped.

 

 

 

Owel peered through the leaves at the six men before him, robed and hooded as they were. He felt a flicker of doubt in his spine as the one with dark lips glanced at the sky with a feral grin. Their leader, the one with the golden coin eye gave him the chills, and he began to wish he was back at the tower. “I should not have come,” he whispered.

 

“Shouldn’t you?” a cold voice behind him inquired. Owel whirled, feeling his blood run from his veins with fear. Behind him, a very tall man with spiked hair was staring down at him with an expressionless glare.

 

The man put a hand on his chest and pushed him into the clearing. “What little mouse have we found here, then?” Ian said, staring down at his catch.

 

“Owel,” the young man stuttered.

 

“Owl?” Ian asked, raising his one visible eyebrow. “So you are not a mouse?”

 

Saul appeared behind Owel, putting a hand on the back of his neck. “You can still die like one,” the Acid whispered.

 

Owel felt his knees give way and he collapsed into a kneeling position of servitude that he did not like. He pressed his hands into the ground, his eyes shut. When he opened them a hand tilted his chin up. He found himself staring into the single golden eye of their leader. “You are the wizard’s apprentice, hmmm?”

 

Owel nodded faintly. “I wanted to come with you...grow more powerful. It is too slow going with Slack.”

 

“Slack?” the Acid said musingly. “So that is his name. And you grew bored with your venerated master?” His golden eye narrowed menacingly. “What would you do when you grew bored with my tutelage, little Owl? No, that I will not have. It is loyalty or nothing. But perhaps you can help us. I do not trust that the wizard will keep his word with us. You are that perfect assurance.”

 

Owel stared in horror as the man beckoned to the dark-lipped man to bind his hands. “Saul, you will be his guardian. Make sure nothing happens to him, and make sure he doesn’t run away.”

 

Saul looked down at Owel and grinned, his eyes glittering darkly. Again Owel felt faint. “With pleasure,” the Acid growled.

 

 

 

Slack charged through the trees, his weapons slung across his back. “Stupid Owel!” he hissed. “Foolish Owel!” The dark clouds overhead grumbled with thunder and again the wizard stopped and looked up through the trees. A flash of violet and scarlet lightning sent another shiver down his spine. “This is no normal storm,” he whispered. Lowering his head he continued his charge through the woods.

 

 

 

The Acids stood in a circle, Owel lying bound behind Saul. Their eyes glittered and together they held their right fists in the air. The storm boiled around them, the lightning licking off of their raised fingers and the weapons they held in their left hands. H2SO4 looked up at the sky, his gaze sending chills even along the spines of his men. “The others will know our power,” he whispered, his eye widening with maddened surety. “They will know of it!”

 

Justin watched his master silently, another shiver trickling down his spine. He looked down at the young boy at Saul’s booted feet and he felt a stirring of sympathy. That Jeremy was taking advantage of his opportunities was good (it had saved their lives on many occasions when they had been but street brats together), but he did not like holding a mere child captive, especially with Saul as his keeper. Justin tilted his head to look back at the sky. The lightning was building, branching and pooling on their hands. Justin swallowed and stiffened his fingers. This was for the good of the Acids.

 

 

 

Slack panted as he charged through the leaves, his eyes fixed on the pool of lightning over the treetops. “Owel!” he muttered. “Stupid, stupid Owel, don’t die!”

 

 

 

H2SO4 blinked and cocked his head to the side. “Justin, we have a visitor. Please, would you escort him?”

 

Justin gave a sharp nod and placed his weapon on the ground, departing from the circle. His eye glittered as he disappeared into the trees. Owel watched him leave fearfully, whimpering as Saul’s grip on his hair tightened.

 

 

 

The lightning overhead grew more frequent, zapping at Slack’s energy, and again he was forced to stop. He leaned his hands on his knees, panting. “What power is this?” he muttered. “The Acids can’t have a wizard among them...I would have sensed it...” Groaning he lurched onwards, pushing branches and vines out of his way. A rock slammed into his foot, or vice versa, and he fell heavily with a cry. He sat up, shaking hair out of his eyes. His limbs were so weary that he felt...felt like death itself. Pain lanced through his body as he tried desperately to move and he bit his lips hard. His eyes flickered about. “Come out then,” he rasped. “I know you’re there.”

 

The Acid appeared from behind a tree, watching him dispassionately. “A little tired?” he whispered, his voice crackling eerily over the sound of thunder in the distance. “You are more than a little drunk.”

 

“Was,” Slack snarled.

 

“And only thanks to that traitorous brat of yours,” Justin said, taking a step closer. “We have him, if you want to see him, but I am curious as to why you would come all this way to rescue him. He is nothing but a traitor.”

 

Slack sneered. “He has done nothing to harm me,” he said. “He has only harmed himself, and he is young and inexperienced with the alluring ways of evil. I said you could live off of my lands, but your leader swore to me that he would stay away from me.”

 

Justin crouched in front of the wizard, a lazy smile on his face. “And so he has. It is not his fault that your apprentice came to us. And now you have pursued us. That wasn’t in the agreement, now was it?”

 

Slack shook his head slowly, a small smile flickering across his own visage. “You slimy kyyks,” he muttered (using a term he had learned long ago from a very irritated sorceress). Then he collapsed on the ground, his eyelids flickering. He dimly felt the Acid’s fingers close around his wrist, testing his pulse. “The acid I have used on you works as a sedative as well as a poison. You will fall unconscious in about thirty seconds, after which you will die unless I give you the antidote. H2SO4 will decide your fate.”

 

The Acid was gripping him around the waist and heaving him onto his shoulder. Due to his long frame, he was hard to maneuver, but his light weight made him easy to carry. The dark cloth of the Acid’s robe was the last he saw before black shrouded his vision.

 

 

 

“Send one of the lads, one he likes. We need as much delicacy on this as possible—he’s been very touchy lately. Don’t fail me, Justin.”

 

“I’ll see to it.”

 

“In fact, why don’t you bring along our friends. I’m sure he’ll take them off our hands with welcome. A little gift might sweeten his mood.”

 

“As you say.”

 

 

 

HCl walked slowly towards the city, his heart pounding in his throat. This was dangerous, and he did not mind feeling fear. Not about this. He gritted his teeth, tightening his hold on the rope that tied the drugged wizard and his cowed apprentice. “Don’t utter a noise,” he snarled at his prisoners, “or I’ll kill you before we ever arrive!”

 

Owel bit his lips, staring at their destination with wide eyes. On the outskirts of the city was an abandoned warehouse, huge in size. Cement supports made the wind whistle, and scraps of garbage littered the ground, stirring like ghosts in the breeze.

 

The large doors creaked loudly as HCl pushed them open. Owel winced, staring up into the blackness. The ceiling disappeared into the inky shadows, and there was no lighting beyond a single lamp that fluttered ahead, a tiny spot in the dark. HCl yanked them forward with a grunt, glaring at the light ahead.

 

The light grew to bathe an area just large enough for the three to stand in. HCl held a slip of paper up. “We need this,” he said softly, his eyes downcast. “H2SO4 sends his regards.”

 

The paper disappeared from HCl’s grasp. Owel jumped—he had not even seen the hand that had taken it.

 

There was a thick silence. “You know the severity of what you ask?”

 

HCl smiled faintly. “Yes.”

 

“Then be prepared to accept the consequences.” A white gloved hand appeared into the light, holding forth and envelope. “Add H2SO4 and duck.”

 

HCl reached for the packet with glittering eyes. The fingers holding it twitched, flicking the envelope up just out of reach. HCl froze, breath held.

 

A pair of black eyes glittered as dark light penetrated the depths of the shadows. Another gloved hand gripped the arm of his seat tightly. “Be careful,” he hissed, light sliding over his bared teeth. “I am not to be crossed.”

 

HCl bowed deeply. “We never considered such a thing,” he said sincerely.

 

“Nor shall you,” was the deep reply. The packet settled softly into HCl’s waiting fingers.

 

HCl tucked the envelope into his cloak, a small smile on his face. “H2SO4 will be pleased.”

 

“He had better.”

 

The Acid bowed. “In return my prestigious master bequeaths this gift—two prisoners of war for however you see fit to use them.”

 

“Leave.”

 

HCl grinned at Owel, who bit back a yelp of fear. Behind him Slack was just beginning to open his eyes, swaying on his feet as the drug wore off. The Acid disappeared into the shadows. The doors clanged shut, leaving the wizard and his apprentice standing in the pool of light alone.

 

Slack blinked twice and peered about him. “What’s going on?” he whispered to Owel.

 

“You are my prisoners now,” the dealer said from the shadows. “What will happen to you is my decision.”

 

“And exactly who are you?” Slack snapped. “What is your name?”

 

“Name?” the voice whispered. Slack blinked against the blinding light, gripping Owel’s shoulders tightly. “I have no name, but...I suppose you could call my Simony.”

 

Slack gasped and jerked back as the speaker stepped into the light, inches from the wizard’s nose. He was dressed all in black, his dress coat fraying at the edges and sleeves. One spotless white glove covered his left hand, on glove blacker than the shadows beyond the pool of light in which they stood on his right. His long hair, ragged and slightly dusty, was combed on either side of his very pale, very thin face. Piercings glinted from his ear, brows, and lower lip. “Hello,” he said with a forced smile. His eyes sparkled blackly. “Now we are formally introduced. And you shall tell me what I am to do with you.”

 

 

****

I know Slack is a repeated name of mine, but it was all I could think of T_T Suggestions for that as well would be greatly appreciated, and whether I should finish this story...