Forged

by G S Michaelson

  Anansi’s Perch!

  Silken threads flowed out from Derek’s palms, lashing themselves around Timothy. They coiled around him, trapping and binding him, stopping his momentum and suspending him in the air, looking to all the world like a fly caught in a web.

  “Come into my parlour,” muttered Derek.

  For all his strength, Timothy was trapped in the air with no leverage. His palms and feet were left free, so he could only wriggle but not get purchase to push off anything. He could only growl in frustration.

  Derek fired another webline, launching himself above the suspended web trap, and above Timothy. For a moment, he appeared suspended in the air, then he fired another webline. This time, attaching itself to Timothy’s chest. Another webline attached itself to his shoulder. Timothy began to struggle harder, but it was no use, he was trapped far too efficiently.

  Derek yanked himself forward, gravity augmenting his speed and giving weight to his attack. His body was broken, but Zeke was on his mind. His bones were shattered, but he could only imagine how Max had felt. Blood streaked on his face, but they were nothing compared to the tears people had shed in this town for years.

  Where Derek could not see, far below on the ground, Zeke mouthed two words.

  “Do it.”

  Anansi’s Crushing Impact!

  Derek’s twin fists collided with Timothy’s chest. Windows around them shattered. Bones caved inwards, and the the web snapped. The monster was free. Free to plummet several feet to the grounds below, shattering the street with his own body. As he had fallen towards the ground, Timothy could only wonder where he had gone wrong. Derek followed, slowing his descent with another webline.

  “If everything is the will of the gods, then what would you call this?” Derek had landed beside Timothy.

  “Hehe,” Timothy half-gurgled, half-coughed as he spoke. “You got me there kid. The Orisha are no gods, I knew that, but they needed to be. I couldn’t have suffered for nothing, that’s what I told myself.”

  He coughed, raspier this time.

  “Where would I find my purpose, and my place in this world if not from the gods above?”

  His eyes pleaded for understanding and acceptance. Douglas’ story of a young boy and his family murdered by Timothy’s head of security, Zeke and Simon’s orphan status, Derek realized, were all down to a man who was looking for his place in the world and had latched on the wrong thing. Except he had the conviction that he was right, and that made him different, right?

  “We make our own reasoning, and our own purpose,” Derek replied, “When you made your choice, you had to have known where it was going. You had every chance to make your own decision, whatever came from it is on your head.”

  Timothy laughed at the irony. “I’m eating my own words, huh? Nice….one…”

  He fell silent as his breathing became ragged, then stopped entirely. Douglas watched, experiencing a mixture of feelings as his enemy passed.

  As Timothy breathed his last breath, it seemed like the people of Karn let out one they had been collectively holding in for far too long.

  For the first time in years, they were free.

  Chapter 32 - Rise of Dawn

  Timothy came crashing down from the sky, bouncing on buildings as he did so. As he landed, his Godspark dissipated, and his body reverted itself to normal, revealing what everyone else had already known.

  Under the intimidating exterior of Timothy the Zealot had lain a broken man.

  The shock of seeing Timothy’s fall made the Order Squadron fall silent. With all their executives defeated, they lost the will to fight, and the Marauders and rebelling Squadron members restrained them.

  Derek finished his conversation with Timothy and then he moved to face the people of Karn. They had surrounded him.

  He stuck two fingers in the air, the sign of victory, and the cheers began. Young, old, man, woman, everyone had been touched by the Zealot’s regime, and aside from those who had served in the Order Squadron voluntarily, many were happy to be free from it.

  Derek began to wobble, his injuries catching up to him. He tipped over and fell into Zeke’s waiting arms.

  “Thank you,” Zeke shed a single uncharacteristic tear, “Thank you for this.”

  Derek simply smiled an exhausted, tired smile.

  * * *

  For the next three days, there was hard work to be one. Many had been injured by the battles for Karn County. Annabelle’s explosions had injured a few, and the Order Squadron’s rampage had done a lot of damage.

  Buildings had been damaged though few cared about that immediately.

  The Order Squadron members that had continued fighting or attempted to fight had been restrained and placed in holding cells alongside those that had surrendered prior.

  The bodies of the defeated were burned, and their ashes mixed together, all but one.

  Then the celebrations began. Karn County’s Summer Festival of Life came back in force on the fourth day, but this time, the people were celebrating freedom and life away from the thumb of the Nephilim.

  There was food and drink aplenty, and Simon and Zeke were treated as returning heroes by those who remembered them.

  Sophia and her Marauders took the role of security, part of their arrangement with Douglas. Sophia would have done it voluntarily, her desire to spit in the faces of the Nephilim overruling her disdain for Douglas’ actions the week before.

  The real man of the hour was Derek, who was acknowledged as having faced down one of the Lieutenants of a Nephilim and coming out on top. Derek accepted his accolades humbly, but even he broke out with a pleased smile occasionally.

  * * *

  The next day, Zeke stared at the mound of earth in front of him. He had rehearsed this speech several times the day before, but delivering it now, the finality of it, threatened to break him inside.

  “Hey, Mum. Dad. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you guys” Zeke started, ” I’ve been well. I joined the Rune Knights, I grew up big and I grew up strong, I’m still friends with Simon. I live out of a van, sure, but It’s a spacious van. Simon calls it the Thunderdome. That’s quite like him, isn’t it?”

  He grew solemn. “I killed Tyler. I have avenged you, and I’ve protected Karn. Yeah, I know, you’ll say it wasn’t the best thing I could have done. I could have tried to talk him down, I could have done something. But we all know, that’s not true…and I wish I could have reached him, but he was too far gone. I could tell the moment I set eyes on him, and it was him, or it was me. I didn’t want it to be me, no I didn’t want it to be me.

  “I just wish - I just wish I had this much power that day, that time so many years ago. I wish I could have done something. Though I know, I’d have died with you, and sometimes I wish I could have too. But now, I’ve moved on, and I know what I’m going to do next.”

  He sighed.

  “Anyway, enough about me. You were my parents, and you raised me and made me who I am today. Though our time was short, it was meaningful, thank you for that.”

  That was short, that was cheesy as hell, and yet he liked it. It was sincerely spoken.

  He emptied two bottles of wine into the ground. A white, his mother’s favourite. A red, his dad’s.

  He had never actually found his parents, but he had been told that everyone who died that night had been buried in a mass grave just outside town.

  He had come down with Simon. The latter had buried Annabelle’s ashes there personally for some reason. Something about respect for his enemy. Zeke didn’t know why he would even care, but he didn’t ask either. Everyone deserved to have some part of themselves private.

  * * *

  Douglas walked back to the western district of Karn. He noted with a wince that people were still rebuilding bits of the town from where his fight with Richard a week ago had damaged the location.

  He had a place in mind, and as he found the Nirthi’s house, he allowed a small smile to cross his face.

  Cynth
ia Nirthi spotted him first and ran out, embracing him as she cried. Mr and Mrs Nirthi watched from the porch, smiles gracing their faces.

  “Thank you, Douglas, thank you,” Cynthia sobbed. “We were almost…. we were almost—”

  The memory threatened to overwhelm her.

  “I know,” Douglas hugged her despite himself, “You helped me first. You, your dad, and your mother. Thank you for that.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Mrs Nirthi exclaimed, admonishing him. “Don’t you dare.”

  “No, thank you.” Mr Nirthi said, “You saved our lives, not just then but going forward as well. We were no doubt going to be killed, and you did not just defeat our immediate problem, but you brought down the whole system too. I consider you a son, and you can come here anytime.”

  “Son…” Douglas laughed to himself. “Fathers and their sons. Thank you for that. I’m a little too old for a surrogate father at this point.”

  They all laughed. Douglas a little too heartily, relieved that he had at least managed to save one family’s happiness.

  It would appear uncharacteristic and incongruous with the gangster personality he had cultivated earlier, but that was just an act. The real Douglas was emerging from his shell, and it was felt good to be himself after years of suppression.

  * * *

  Sophia watched him from a nearby building. He had grown soft, but perhaps, maybe she had too.

  Following Douglas’ orders after he had humiliated her was one thing, but she felt it was for a good cause, and nothing she had seen so far had betrayed that assessment.

  The original reason she had joined the Marauders was to prevent Pesque from turning into Karn. She had felt Douglas had been lying to her when he decided to leave the Marauders, seemingly on a whim. But now that she had seen Douglas’ actions in Pesque, she felt that she could be satisfied with the outcome.

  For a second, it looked like he turned and looked at her, but only for the briefest of moments.

  Despite herself, she smiled.

  “Damn that Douglas.”

  * * *

  Rachel for her part was a deeply practical person, and the issue of controlling the narrative fell to her.

  She spoke with the townspeople in charge of reporting the news, explaining that they were going to have to agree on a story so that all the blame for the incident falls on Derek, rather than Karn.

  Counties all under Orisha domination, all linked up to what was called the MBN - Media Broadcast Network - a way to disseminate their local news instantly to whoever wanted it. This was done so that everyone would have access to the news, and sometimes, the Nephilim would send messages out through the media as well. It was a flawed system, but it was what they had. There were other systems as well, the RBS, the Rune Broadcast System, and the Independent Media Networks. These networks had some degree of interconnectedness because all the players, no matter how much they despised the other, agreed it was for the best.

  After much discussion, the plan was agreed.

  Derek and the rest of the Thunderdome group would take responsibility for defeating Timothy and inciting a rebellion, they would be branded an outlaw gang that had left to liberate other Nephilim held cities.

  “So now we’re a gang,” Simon said. “I bet that makes Douglas happy.”

  “I thought we were even now,” Douglas replied. “Shouldn’t you stop with these childish taunts?”

  “That doesn’t stop me from poking fun at you. Which I will. Forever.”

  “In that case, next time I’ll look the other way when you’re plummeting to your death.“

  “Ahem.” The elderly newsman cleared his throat. “Do you have any particular preferences -- when it comes to naming? Most gangs do give themselves fanciful names...like those Marauders that helped out.”

  “We’ll be leaving them out of this,” Douglas replied sharply. “Let’s think of something else.“

  “Don’t look at me,” Zeke said.

  The group discussed other ideas for a while, and Derek - clearly bored with the conversation — wandered over to the windowsill to watch the clouds. His Godspark had given him an instinctive love for the outdoors, and sitting inside for a long period of time only served to irritate him.

  Half an hour later, Simon sprung up.

  “I’ve got it!

  “Got what?” Zeke asked.

  “A name — the name we’re looking for our gang.”

  “Well, you haven’t been helping us hammer out the finer parts of the narrative so I suppose we could have that as your overall contribution,” Rachel said. “What did you come up with?”

  “Well the original group was the Sunset Research Group. As their successors, it makes sense we pay homage to them in some way. Let’s say a new name like...” He paused expectantly. Everyone took a moment to guess where he was going with this.

  “Full moon,” Rachel said.

  “Shadow Catchers— or Raiders — or Hu—,” Douglas started.

  “I think that one’s already taken. How about Dawn?” The newsman cut Douglas off, drawing a scowl and mumbling from him.

  “Group of the Sun.”

  Everyone turned to look at Zeke. He shrugged. “It sounds cool enough.”

  “You think Thunderdome sounds good. Maybe stay out of this,” Douglas said.

  Simon cleared his throat, pulling everyone’s attention back to him.

  “I was thinking the Sunrise gang,” Simon said. “The Sun motif carries — and we replace ‘Set’ with ‘Rise’. They were looking at the end of the day, we’re striving towards a new day. A Sunrise.”

  “It’s too direct,” Rachel said. The others agreed with her, and Simon looked dejected.

  “How about Dawn?” Douglas said. “It’s natural sounding, and it fulfills the homage function.”

  “It’s short. it’s snappy, a single syllable.” Simon said. “It shut you up for a moment. There’s nothing more to add. I like it.”

  “That’s what I thought.” The newsman said, “You’re paying respect to those who came before you while making your own path. Isn’t anything else inappropriate.”

  “I agree.” Derek said from his window perch. “Dawn sounds like a good name to me as well.”

  Taking an idea from the past and throwing it into the future, the Dawn was what Derek wanted to represent. By disrupting the national order of the world, there was no chance the way things were would stay the same.

  It was in truth, the Dawn of a new world. It was just too early in the day to know if this world would be the same as the last one.

  The bounty hunters would come after them. Rachel knew that there was no way Jason would come after Karn again without first going after Derek and the rest of Dawn, he was vengeful, and meticulous in his vengeance.

  She didn’t know what would happen once they encountered Jason, but she didn’t want to share her concerns with the Karnians she was talking with. Things were rarely as simple as beating the bad guys and moving on, there was often the messy, messy clean up to deal with.

  Karn had its own demons to fight. The Nephilim had only been able to gain a foothold by turning the disaffected, the neglected, and even the privileged against them. Families had been torn apart, and there was a pervasive sense of shame in the atmosphere.

  It wouldn’t be addressed as long as Derek remained, so they planned to leave as soon as they could.

  * * *

  Derek sat on a building. Karn was the kind of place he would have liked to stay in.

  It was a shame that he would not be able to stay on much longer.

  He nursed his injuries, broken bones, torn muscles. His Godspark had already begun healing them. He let the burn inside flow through him as his power accelerated his healing, and he felt that it was good.

  * * *

  Six Years Ago.

  “You don’t have to do this,” West said. “You could just pass on the key to Douglas, and then move on.”

  It was the fourth year in Soltair. Derek had on
ly left the safety of West’s Godspark for more than a few hours, once, preferring to remain isolated in a hut just outside the town.

  He was already known as the town hermit, and many steered clear from him.

  “I like it here,” Derek replied. “We can talk, and I can learn about the world from you.”

  “This isn’t healthy, and you know it,” West replied, angrily, “If I were still alive…I would…”

  West had stopped and stared at Derek.

  “You’re paying me back aren’t you? You’re staying here to keep this me ‘alive’ as long as possible.”

  “Your avatar can stay active as long as I’m here, right?” Derek looked at his feet, He had learned the limitations of West’s Godspark earlier. Upon opening a ‘space’, whatever was stored in there could be taken out and replaced as many times as possible.

  But if the object was gone too long, for a day or two, then the space would collapse, and the West avatar inside would die — leaving ashes in the real world. Normally, a person would need West to re-enter a space, but the man had someone granted him the ability to re-enter his already opened spaces, so Derek could go and come and as he pleased.

  “You saved my life, I’m doing the same for you.”

  “You’re 15 years old, you can have a life outside before meeting up with my son, or you may not. It’s your choice.”

  “If it’s my choice, then I need you to help me. Teach me how to use it.” Derek pleaded, “Teach me how to use my Godspark to protect myself.”

  West had looked at him curiously. Then he sat down, as much as one could sit down in the ghostly space.

  “Derek, I am not real. I cannot teach you anything useful, I cannot advance past this level… I am merely a shadow of West, who passed away years ago. Sooner or later, I will lose even the ability to stay coherent as my embedded consciousness fades from the world. If you leave here, you can find other talented teachers outside Soltair.”