Sunday 27 June 2010

The New World Part 1 - Legends of a Robed Figure

"Can you tell me what's wrong with him?" The Therapist was talking. No one knew his real name, nor did they know which company he actually worked for. 'Lance Otter Preps'. A name AND an anagram for his real company. Prospect Eternal.

"We were walking along just after midnight. We were shouting and pissing about, but he suddenly stopped and claimed he saw something."

"Did he describe it?"

"No, he just screamed in pain and f-fell to h-his knees. Then h-his eyes jus-just bled." Harry was in shock. He and George had spent the whole night partying, and weren't remotley worried about walking around on their own. The crime rate had dropped incredibly over the past few years, but something else had turned up. Something strange.

"Ok, leave him with me. I'll talk to him about it later; hopefully he would've calmed down by then."

"They say He is the darkness. No light, no mercy, just the pitch black from which We came. Many fear Him, but His name is unknown to Us. Many would seek Him out, but none would return. He is time immemorial, the very makings of Creation itself. And now He walks among Us, a God thrown down from the Heavens to wreak havoc and return to His place of former glory."

George was talking, but it was not his voice that spoke. He was shaking more than any person should be, pushed beyond the limit of any man. There were blood stains running down his face, starting from his eyes. Not just small streams, but huge rivers. And the very skin was ripped from his face where he'd clawed himself in fear, from the moment he'd laid eyes on Yarofev.

"Very well," Lance was talking again "I will look after him and try to sort out his wounds, but I doubt time will heal what has happened to him. Now, if you could leave and let me concentrate?" Harry nodded, turned around and left the building. A few minutes later, he looked around him. There was no one near.

The air shimmered around Harry, and Yarofev started walking again, thankful to be back in his proper form.

Back in the building, Lance took out his phone and quickly dialled a number. He frowned, redialled slowly, and listened.

"Operator? I need Amanda Green. Yes, I know what the time is and yes, I know she'd be asleep. Important? It's about him."

************

28th June, 13:59. Amanda walked down the marble corridor, her high heels clacking on the marble. She stopped outside a dark-wooded door and quickly brushed her hair. In her other hand, she held a file with 'Top Secret - Black Row Officials only' stamped in block red. At precisely 2pm, she knocked on the door.

"Come in!" It was a mans voice, friendly yet slightly expectant. Amanda walked in and shook hands with Yematin. His office was unique: a large dark-wooded desk with many folders but no pictures of any family, a small drinks cabinet and, behind Yematin, a giant window that acted as the fourth wall. It granted any looker a marvelous view over London.

Amanda silently handed over the file. Yematin took it, and turned it to the first page...

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