The Black Knight Box Set

by Christian J Gilliland

  “Sir,” The bouncer called out, running up behind Rubaan, “You can’t take our cups.”

  Rubaan was annoyed that the bouncer had followed him. He stopped and turned around to face the moderately large Vampre and let out a loud “Hah!”

  “Let’s just go about our daily businesses,” Rubaan said, smiling as he raised the glass again, “That way everyone can be just fine.”

  “Right sir,” The bouncer stepped closer, “Give me the glass and we can both go about our daily business.”

  “I bought this cup,” Rubaan snarled, offended by the bouncer, “You go get your own fucking cup.”

  “That cup belongs to the bar,” The bouncer sighed, “You know that. Give it back or I’ll call an Inquisitor.”

  “Call one of those fucking cunt hairs,” Rubaan dared him, “Bring him here, I’ll show him who’s boss.”

  “Come on sir,” The bouncer held his hand out, “Just give me the damn cup.”

  “No, Sir,” Rubaan laughed and poked the bouncer in the chest, “You come on!”

  The bouncer threw his hands up in the air and turned to walk away. He in his time at the bar had learned to recognize when someone was too drunk to reason with so he decided it was time to call in the Inquisitors and let them handle the situation.

  “Fuck the Inquisitors,” Rubaan mumbled as he stumbled down the sidewalk, “Fuck that bartender. Fuck Eon… fuck my life.” He rounded the corner in the direction he thought he had parked his car.

  “Calling the fucking Inquisitors over a stupid little cup,” He threw the cup across the street and it crashed against the side of a building, “Piece of shit.”

  Drunken fury was perhaps the best way to describe Rubaan’s state of being at that moment. He was tormented by confusion and uncertainty. His mind felt as if it had been wrung until it was completely free of whatever juices made it work properly. All he wanted was to jump back in time a couple of days; back to when all he worried about was work and making sure Roc had a good life ahead of him.

  He could have sworn he had parked in a spot on Street 12 but could not seem to find it. He managed to control his actions long enough to stop his feet from shambling onward and paused to take a look around.

  “No fucking wonder,” Rubaan slurred as he ran his hand through his hair. He sighed and shook his head as he looked up at a sign at the intersection in front of him. It read “Street 15”.

  ***

  “Street 15… I wonder if the history books shall say that this was where it all began again.” Eon reflected. He glanced over at Glen and briefly noticed how pale he was becoming. He smirked and continued walking.

  “Please let me go,” Eon heard a voice within his mind cry, “Please.”

  “Hush,” Eon said out loud, shaking his head, “Twas no glory to be found before. Rejoice now, for with me in control untold riches and power will be yours… we will obtain it all together!”

  Inside his former mind, Rubaan sat in silent darkness; or at least that was what he perceived. Everything that was once his had been ripped from him. He had been stripped of his family, his life and his own identity. All that he was left with was a void where his soul had once been seated.

  Rubaan was his thoughts and his thoughts were him; the iron curtains that bordered the window into the world he had lived in such a short time ago had been closed and welded shut. He felt no hope, he saw no light. He was no more than a prisoner locked away in a dungeon that he could never escape.

  “Please, what have I done?” Rubaan asked, “Let me make it right.”

  “There is naught to be made right,” Eon replied, “All is well.”

  “Who are you?” Rubaan asked, “Why are you doing this to me?”

  Eon turned to Glen behind him and held his hand out, “Wait here, child.” He commanded. Glen stopped walking and sat down on the dusty street. Those who silently followed behind Glen matched his movements.

  “Now dearest Rubaan,” Eon said as he walked away from his entourage, “‘Tis only proper to keep a host well informed of the guest’s activities would you not agree?”

  “Let me go.” Rubaan pleaded.

  “You are resilient, I find that admirable,” Eon smiled, “Do understand, however, that what is happening is nothing personal against you or your family. Why I, in fact, have your brother to thank for my presence in this… realm. Truthfully, ‘tis my one desire for his body to be my host; for his mind to dwell within me. Unfortunately, he has yet to manifest.”

  “Cris?” Rubaan asked, thinking of his only living brother, “What do you want with Cris?”

  “Heavens no,” Eon shook his head, “That whelp would nay come near to suiting my needs. No, I require much more of my host and on many occasions, your brother proved to me that he had substantial power within him... I need your brother’s power.”

  “My brothers are dead,” Rubaan said, “All except for Cris.”

  “None of your brothers are dead Rubaan,” Eon said. “One is in hiding, one is training, and one is… simply not present at the moment.”

  “That is not true…” Rubaan's brother Kiersen had disappeared long ago. Crinnan had gone missing on a mission and was most likely dead. Cris was his only surviving brother and he was far off in Eastern Kamlot training to become a Centurion in Black Knight.

  “Your truth is a lie,” Eon laughed. “Your brother indeed lives.”

  “That makes no sense,” Rubaan argued, “How could you know that?”

  “You will learn, child, that I know a great number of things,” Eon said, “Now we must continue onward so that I may be restored to my former glory...”

  ***

  Rubaan sat on the sidewalk with his back against the red brick building behind him. The world was spinning around him and after vomiting out what felt to have been most of his insides he had collapsed onto the ground. He found himself staring up at the buildings above wondering which one would hurt the least if he were to jump off.

  “Amaria…” He whispered and closed his eyes tight to try to stop the spinning, “You should have fucking killed me back in Barus. You should have devoured me and let your little sick Vampre friends lap up the blood you missed.” He laughed and gently fell over. Had a familiar voice not interrupted him, he surely would have fallen asleep.

  “Boy you sure do look stupid,” The cracked, muffled voice said. Rubaan half-opened one of his eyes to find the old mechanic Dauid standing in front of him.

  “Oh shit,” Rubaan mumbled, “Go easy on me old man…”

  With much effort on his part, Dauid knelt down and took a look at Rubaan, “You smell like Dravink. You do realize that’s a bitch drink, right?”

  “Fuck off,” Rubaan whined. He thought for a moment and then shook his head, “Hey wait. Don’t fuck off. Do you have a cigarette?”

  “I am a damn cigarette at this point,” Dauid replied with a chuckle. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack, “Take what you need.”

  Rubaan sat back up and looked into the old man’s visor. He focused for a moment, trying to see his eyes behind the dark glass but ultimately could not see through it.

  “What the Hells is wrong with you boy?” Dauid asked, feeling a bit creeped out by Rubaan staring so closely at his eyes, “Just take a damn cigarette.”

  Rubaan grabbed a cigarette and put it in his mouth, “Got a light?” he asked. Dauid nodded and lit the cigarette for him. With a grunt and a groan, the old man took a seat next to Rubaan.

  “Now, I won’t be judging you for this. I in good conscience can’t, considering how many times I have found myself in your shoes, but do I even want to know why you’re sitting out here in broad daylight as drunk as I am when I’m out of whiskey?” Dauid asked.

  “How do you get drunk when you’re out of whiskey?” Rubaan replied with a confused look on his face.

  Dauid chuckled. “I’m only out of whiskey when I’ve drunk it all. Use your head for something other than a pillow.”

  “I don’t get
it,” Rubaan closed his eyes again and rested his head against the building behind him.

  “So what the Hells is wrong with you?” Dauid continued, “What’s with the surprise visit and all the weird questions and the public drunkenness?”

  “Well I… I don’t think you would understand,” Rubaan replied slowly, “It’s complicated.”

  “Son there are three reasons why a man gets this drunk,” Dauid said, “A woman, a death, or a good reason. Now, did your woman die for a good reason?”

  Rubaan chuckled and shook his head, “She’s not dead. Well, not anymore… but that’s a completely different long and complicated story. No… let’s just say I have a pretty good reason.”

  “Everybody thinks they got a good reason for everything,” Dauid replied, “That's why there's a bar on every block. I doubt the Inquisitors would think your reason was worth shit if they caught you out here though.”

  “Didn’t think of that,” Rubaan huffed, “Probably should have thought of that.”

  “You’re not telling me why you’re out here,” Dauid reminded him with a grumpy tone, “If you don’t want to then that’s more than fine but I don’t reckon you’d still be talking to me if you didn’t want to.”

  “I do,” Rubaan admitted with a lowered head, “I want to tell someone why I feel so crazy but…”

  “But you think someone will think you’re crazy?” Dauid asked.

  “Yeah,” Rubaan replied, “But you’re kind of fucking crazy too so I think it might be okay.”

  “So then start at the beginning. What is going on with you?”

  Rubaan reluctantly began to tell the story of his plight. He explained what he knew about his situation in the best detail he could muster. Dauid all the while sat and listened, grateful that his expressions were mostly hidden by his visor and breathing mask. When Rubaan finished telling the story, Dauid looked over at him and hummed.

  “Well, you were right,” Dauid declared without a hint of doubt, “You’re definitely crazy.”

  “Figured you would say that,” Rubaan replied with an unsurprised tone. He shook his head and reached for a cup that was not there. When he realized he was out of drink, he leaned back against the brick wall behind him and sighed.

  “Come on boy, time to go home,” Dauid groaned, getting back on his feet. He felt concerned for the half-blood. He was worried about what he thought he was going through. Dauid had only heard stories of that sort of “possession”. He knew it had happened before in history but he had not heard stories of anything like that happening in the last 100 years. He thought that Rubaan had finally snapped under the weight of all that he was going through at home and work.

  “Home?” Rubaan asked, “Amaria will kill me.”

  “Better her than whatever sort of trouble you’ll get yourself into out here,” Dauid replied, “I’m parked over this way, come on.” Dauid reached out the one old leathery hand he still had and helped Rubaan to his feet. Rubaan was glad he had not extended his prosthetic hand, that thing gave him the creeps.

  “You’re gonna be okay,” Dauid assured him as the two of them walked along the street, “We go through this in our lives, shit gets too out of hand sometimes and there ain’t nothing you can do about it. That’s okay, as you get older, you’ll learn how to deal with it.”

  Rubaan nodded his head as he listened to Dauid. He thought for a moment that Dauid may be right, that he was just losing his mind under the weight of all the pressure that was being put on him as a husband and a father. It was all new and difficult for him but he was learning and he was doing his best. He thought that maybe all he needed was a break; a day off to get his mind off things.

  “Now we must continue onward so that I may be restored to my former glory.”

  “What?” Rubaan asked, looking to Dauid. Dauid looked back at him and shook his head.

  “I didn’t say anything,” Dauid replied without stopping.

  “I heard something. A voice… somewhere nearby.” Rubaan looked around, “I know that voice…”

  “Buddy we’re in a city of ten million people,” Dauid shook his head, “Of course you heard a damn voice.”

  “No…” Rubaan replied, feeling agitated. He felt himself sober up a bit and felt some strange force inside him drawing him to the North, “Over here.”

  “Stop it Rubaan,” Dauid said, “Now you’re really acting crazy.”

  “I don’t give a shit!” Rubaan charged forward, “I know that voice!”

  “Goddess damn it all!” Dauid threw his cigarette down. He considered trying to run after Rubaan but decided against it. He had not run in twenty years and was not about to start. He decided instead to walk after him briskly.

  “It’s fucking him!” Rubaan was terrified but could not compel himself to stop moving, “It’s gotta be him.” He rounded the street corner and found himself back on Street 15 very near to where he worked. Stopping for a moment, he looked around for the source of the voice, “Where are you...” He asked himself.

  His eyes locked onto a sign that read in big red letters “Marks Bros.” The force that had led him that far seemed to draw an invisible line from him to the sign, “The mine…” He mumbled, “You’re at my job…” He felt his heart drop for a moment and stumbled forward just in time for Dauid to clamp his robotic hand around Rubaan’s arm.

  “Stop,” Dauid commanded in a serious tone.

  “I’m not crazy!” Rubaan insisted as he turned to face Dauid, “I…”

  “No, you’re not,” Dauid whispered, “Get your ass down. Look.”

  Dauid knelt down, his old bones cracking with the unexpected movement of his body. He pulled Rubaan down with them and they hid behind a car.

  “Across the street, corner of 15 and Emberry,” Dauid's voice sounded terrified and confused, “Look.”

  Rubaan looked at Dauid for a moment and then peeked his head around the side of the car. At the corner of street 15 and Emberry, he saw a small group of people walking away from the Marks Bros mining facility. He saw his friend Glen and a couple of their coworkers following behind a person who was removing a mining mask. He looked back and Dauid pointed at the being holding the mask, “Look!”

  Rubaan focused on the person carrying the mask. For some reason, he seemed very familiar but he could not catch a glimpse of his face. Rubaan looked beside him and found a small rock. Without much thought, he picked up the rock and threw it at a metal trash can on the sidewalk near them. The rock hit the can with a loud clanging noise and immediately the being carrying the mask turned around. Rubaan’s heart stopped.

  Without skipping a beat, Glen charged at Rubaan wielding a pickaxe. Rubaan stood and held his hands out, “It’s just me, stop!” he shouted. Glen ignored Rubaan and continued to charge, “Stop Glen!” Rubaan pleaded but to no avail.

  Glen swung the pickaxe at Rubaan and Rubaan’s military training immediately kicked in. Rubaan sidestepped out of the way and grabbed Glen’s arm. He twisted the arm out of the way and threw his fist into Glen’s face. Glen let out a growl and with his free hand, grabbed Rubaan by the throat. Rubaan gasped and Glen glared up at him baring his teeth.

  “Glen…” Rubaan choked, “Please…” Glen only squeezed harder. All signs of the person he once was were gone; all that remained was the icy grip that he had on Rubaan’s throat.

  “Let him go you jackoff!” Dauid shouted as he planted a screwdriver into the side of Glen’s head. Glen let go of Rubaan and stepped backward. He looked at Dauid and for a moment life seemed to return to his eyes.

  “I… I’m sorry…” Glen wept as he fell to his knees. Rubaan hurried to his feet and picked up that pickaxe that Glen had dropped. He looked back at Dauid while he still had time and pointed behind him, “Run Dauid!” Rubaan shouted, “Get away!” Dauid nodded and decided that it was the day that he ran again after all.

  Rubaan stared at the being across the street and could not bring himself to believe what it was that he was looking at. The person looked e
xactly like Rubaan to a point where Rubaan could have sworn he was looking in a mirror.

  “Who are you!” Rubaan shouted, letting the pickaxe fall to his side, “What do you want?” The other Rubaan simply smiled and cocked his head.

  “I am that I am.” Rubaan heard a voice say, “I have what I came for.” Rubaan was perplexed. Eon clearly spoke but his lips never moved.

  “Why are you here!” Rubaan shouted, “Why do you look like me?”

  “I am you… and you are me.” Eon continued, “You were born last night.”

  “What are you talking about?” Rubaan shouted, “Born last night?”

  “I required your body, your knowledge of your brother,” Eon explained, “The Demon, my savior is coming and I must be here to greet him.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Rubaan shouted, “What happened last night!”

  “I created you,” Eon replied, “I took your body and your knowledge and created another.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense!” Rubaan shouted angrily.

  “I need you here and I need you there. Your body is my vessel to commune with the Demon. I need you here with your family to ensure that your body cooperates.”

  “What the fuck!” Rubaan shouted, “What does that mean!”

  “Know, if your body does not cooperate, I will make you kill your family... with your own hands.”

  “I would die first!” Rubaan said, “I will never kill my family for you.”

  “Watch,” Eon replied.

  At that, Rubaan watched as Eon fell to the ground. He felt an icy chill creep up his spine as it had in the bathroom the night before.

  “No!” He shouted, “Not again!”

  Rubaan could not move and he could not fight. It only took a moment but it felt like an eternity. Eventually, he completely lost control of his body.

  As his body moved around Rubaan felt like he was simply along for the ride but not in control. He watched Eon’s previous body stand up and look around.