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(157)
by AJVega
Rated: 13+ · Book · Fantasy · #1877118
Paranormal fantasy set in 1930s. Elements of Reincarnation, Soulmates, Mythology & Nazis
#835000 added March 9, 2015 at 6:58pm
Restrictions: None
Chapter 3.5: Past Lives

Earth Date: 14th of August 1939 CE
Location: Galley & The Atrium, Soul Sphere, Earth

Maddock sat at a table across from Wolfe. Four-eyes kept staring at him like he was studying a patient. Maddock felt like smacking his glasses off.

Wolfe pushed a cup of tea to him.

Maddock sipped it. It tasted like it was scooped from a puddle. Nothing like the Turkish black tea he remembered. Looking around at the Soul Sphere’s galley and its apparent limited variety, he realized it was all he was getting.

“When we go topside,” Maddock said. “We’re going to need to find some black tea-- a large supply of it to take back down with us. This stale s*** you just made me won’t cut the mustard.”

Wolfe nodded silently and just kept staring at him. The long stare was starting to piss him off.

“What’s the problem?” Maddock said. “You’re usually full of gum-bumping, now you’re as silent as a grave.”

“Does the name Saryana mean anything to you?” Wolfe said.

Maddock took another reluctant sip.

“No, should it?”

Wolfe ignored the question and pulled something out of his jacket, it was the wristwatch-- apparently he must have taken it back while Maddock was in the goo bath.

“How do you feel?” Wolfe said.

“Fine,” he said, reaching out to take the watch-- Wolfe pulled it away suddenly, with this really smug look.

Maddock bolted up, clenching a knife he reflexively grabbed from the table.

The blood rush ignited his muscles. The world slowed down as he charged at Wolfe.

Maddock was over him, reaching out to grab the back of Wolfe’s head. It would make it easier to shove the blade into his throat.

It was then that his inner voice awoke him-- stopping his actions.

Maddock hovered over Wolfe with a dull knife in hand, feeling uncertain as to why he almost tried to kill him.

Wolfe sat calmly in his chair looking up at him-- he never even flinched throughout the whole thing.

“You need to control that,” Wolfe said. “That life you had before was a violent one. The instinct to kill can be overpowering, if you let it.”

Wolfe put the watch down on the table and pushed it toward him.

“Take it, before you make a bigger fool of yourself,” Wolfe said.

Maddock tossed the knife, where it reverberated audibly on the table. He picked up the watch, all the while fighting the embarrassment of losing control so easily.

“You did that on purpose,” Maddock said, strapping the watch on. “To provoke me-- didn’t you?”

“I needed to see how much of Taylan Chagatai was in there,” Wolfe said. “And you did not disappoint. There was more of him in you than I anticipated... which might be a good thing if properly channeled.”

Maddock dropped back into his chair, releasing the tension in his muscles.

“What do you mean by that?” he said.

Wolfe took his glasses off, setting them on the table.

“Do you think I need those?” Wolfe said gesturing at the spectacles. “I have perfect vision without them. I have also incarnated over 250 human lives, that’s about 15,000 Earth years lived, mind you.

“You see, there is an amnesia imposed by the soul that prevents most people from remembering their past lives; that amnesia is called the Fugue. You start to lose the Fugue after you are baptized in that black goo. Eventually, you might remember all of your lives. It will come to you in waves, over time.

“Now those glasses-- I wear them due to habits that I have brought forward into this life. Wearing them brings me comfort at some level. Something one needs when one’s sanity is no longer protected by the comfort of the Fugue.”

Wolfe jabbed his finger at the knife on the table.

“That brings you comfort. As does the idea of a sword in your hand and black tea in your mouth. I am okay with giving you tea, but I’m not quite sure what happens when I give you a sword.”

Maddock clenched his fist at the mention of a sword. The mere thought of having a sword and bow in his possession excited him.

“Okay old man,” Maddock said. “If all you just said is true, then how could having more of Taylan in me be a good thing?”

“Taylan was a disciplined warrior,” Wolfe said. “Even fought under the command of General Subutai for the Great Khan in the Mongol Empire. Despite being a skilled and adept killer, he kept himself under tight control. And believe me, Subutai tested Taylan’s discipline mercilessly. Taylan could walk by you with the calm demeanor of a Buddhist monk. Never would you know about the terror such a man could unleash.”

“How do you know so much about Taylan?” Maddock said. “Did you study those films of my past life... in that special room or something?”

“We call that room the Reflection Room,” Wolfe said. “And no, I did not need to study Taylan’s life, because I walked the Earth with Taylan hundreds of years ago.”

Wolfe leaned closer, peering into Maddock’s eyes.

“We lived and fought together,” Wolfe continued. “... Taylan is one of the reasons you are here.”

Maddock pondered that revelation for a moment. He and Wolfe knew each other... in another life?

Wolfe picked up his glasses and put them back on.

Despite the explanation, Maddock thought it odd why he would wear them if he did not really need them.

“Now drink your tea,” Wolfe said. “We have some real work to do when you’re done.”

Once Maddock finished his cup, Wolfe led him to the Atrium.

Maddock pondered what he was told during the quiet walk there.

For this whole time he was in Census, he just accepted everything he saw and was told without a moment’s pause-- nothing shocked him. Now though, everything suddenly felt surreal to him. The past lives, this strange place, Wolfe, Taylan, the black goo bath... it was as if it all just hit him for the first time. It made him question everything he knew... or thought he knew about life.

“Hey,” Wolfe said. “You alright?”

Maddock straightened up. “Yeah, fine.”

Wolfe nodded, but kept his gaze on him for a moment before moving on.

Maddock felt uncomfortable at the idea that this guy knew more about his past lives than he remembered himself. The memories were still fragments, and the interactions with his family were dry-- as if devoid of emotions. When he first awoke in the Reflection Room, he felt love for his family. Now for some reason, those feelings faded and turned into mere facts. Maybe that was a good thing.

They soon reached the Atrium, and as usual it was bustling with suits and wizards moving about.

In the center, the Soul Census monolith was buzzing with activity-- the Earth globe floated with a focus on the northeast United States. A red point of light flashed over the state of New York-- not too far from where he supposed the Soul Sphere was located.

Wolfe walked up to the monolith and gestured to one of the wizards.

“Lamere, start the séance,” Wolfe said.

This was the first time he heard Wolfe refer to one of the wizards by name. In the whole time he had been stuck down here, he only knew Wolfe and Black by name.

Maddock looked over at Lamere-- he was a wiry-looking fellow, bone-skinny and wore a green cap that clashed with the long white coat. Young-- probably in his early 20s. He operated switches on some contraption and nodded back to Wolfe.

At that moment, the entire chamber darkened, with the only light emanating from the machinery and the monolith.

“Greetings Caretaker Akshat,” Wolfe said to it, then looked at his wrist. “It is August 14th, 1939 CE at 15:12:07 GMT... mark!”

This was only the second time he saw Wolfe talk to the thing. Maddock never understood the ritual-- nor why Wolfe had to be explicit about the time. Whenever Maddock probed him about this, Wolfe would clam up on the details-- saying that he was not ready to know everything. Maybe now that he was officially an agent things would change and he would quit treating him like some kid.

A static noise filled the Atrium and the Caretaker’s voice came through it.

“Census,” the Caretaker said. “Agent... séance locked for... 92 seconds.”

“Thank you, Caretaker,” Wolfe said. “Please show us the CLOG event in Nyack, New York.”

The globe zoomed in on the big apple... and suddenly, the entire Atrium changed.

All around him the chamber was replaced by a visage of a residential neighborhood.

Maddock looked down at his feet and could see and feel the pavement of a driveway leading up to a two-story, Victorian-style house. Shady trees rose up with sharp-looking branches, clouding most of the home from view. Its landscape looked overgrown and unkempt, while a shimmering lake painted the background behind it.

“Caretaker, what are the elements of this event?” Wolfe said.

“One lost soul... ” the Caretaker said. “Level III... blue marks. Others...”

The illusion of the home showed a blue light and some red ones emitting from inside the house, shining through the windows of the ground floor.

The white noise washed over the Caretaker’s voice. They waited a few moments for it to speak.

“Caretaker,” Wolfe said. “What are the other elements?”

The Caretaker’s voice broke in, but was difficult to hear.

“...cross-border intrusion,” the Caretaker said. “...an imp and a ghoul... lesser hostiles.”

The white noise suddenly washed over the voice and then the noise stopped and everything was silent. The illusion disappeared and retreated into the Earth globe. The Atrium returned to normal as did the lighting.

“Séance broke,” Lamere said, flipping some buttons and switches. “Won’t be able to reopen for a while.”

Wolfe sighed and then stood silent for a moment. He gave Maddock a sideways glance.

“I thought this was going to be an easier one,” Wolfe said.

“It’s the last 7,000” a new voice said walking up behind them... it was Director Black. She was wearing a black and white skirt, and some heeled shoes that snapped loudly as she trekked across the floor. Aside from the outfit, she looked a little different-- her hair was longer, and those gams looked like they could punt Wolfe halfway across the Atrium.

“What did you expect?” she said, walking past Maddock-- completely ignoring him. Black looked up at the Soul Census, her arms at her side.

“Why can’t we help the Caretaker hold the séance longer?” she said, then pointed to Lamere, “and you, Lead Operator-- why so long in between séances?”

Lamere looked back wide-eyed and seemed to struggle for words.

“Director,” Wolfe broke in. “It’s fine, we got all the information we needed...”

“Demon, imps, ghouls, blue marks-- you call that useful intelligence?” Black said. “We may as well start recruiting circus mediums for intelligence of that quality.”

Wolfe’s usual stoicism was missing-- he looked like he wanted to knock her out.

Black swung around and looked at Maddock.

“And this one,” she said, her voice exhibiting less disgust at him than usual. “Something different about him.”

“He’s been baptized,” Wolfe said, looking at Maddock. “He’s ready.”

Maddock was beginning to feel like a child watching his parents squabble.

“Can you assholes fill me in on what all this gum bumping is about?” Maddock said.

Wolfe raised a hand to calm him down.

Black ignored his question completely and turned away, then pointed at Lamere.

“What do we have on standby?” she said.

Lamere read something on his machinery then stood up, pulling his cap off.

“Well,” Lamere said, scratching his head. “Not much available right now... can probably call in familiars to try and break down the defenses some.”

“No!” Wolfe barked. “We don’t need those, Director. Maddock and I can take care of this alone.”

Black cocked an eyebrow.

“It is unwise to put this one so close to a demon,” she said. “They will smell it on him and endanger the mission.”

“Smell what on me?” Maddock said.

“That’s inevitable,” Wolfe said. “Whether he goes on this mission or another. They will see him eventually.”

Black walked up to Maddock and looked him up and down.

Maddock returned the look, his eyes fixated on her curves.

“There’s plenty of empty rooms in this place doll,” Maddock said with a wink. “I’m sure we can find a more private one if you want to keep staring at me like that.”

Black squinted her eyes at him, then got into a fighting position, fists in the air.

“You think he’s ready, huh?” she said.

“Director, please don’t injure him,” Wolfe said. “I need him in top form for the mission.”

Maddock laughed. “You guys screwy or what?”

“Mister Maddock,” she said. “Somewhere in that barbaric upbringing of yours we might one day find an honorable Census Agent. But it’s probably going to take a significant beating or two to peel away those many layers of male chauvinism that hide it. Consider this our first peeling.”

“I don’t hit dames,” Maddock said.

Black put her fists in the air and began bouncing on her feet.

“If you don’t fight me,” she said. “I’ll have you thrown out of the agency and back into the streets where we found you. You’ll have wasted all of your time down here and end up with nothing to show for it. So you can start swinging down here, right now... or you can go up there to starve and die.”

Maddock slowly brought his fists up in a lazy position, shaking his head.

“You know something, doll-- these boobs might be afraid of you enough to play dead in a fight, but you’ll end up getting hurt trying to fight a guy like me...”

A blow to his guy interrupted him-- he hunched over and stumbled backward, the air knocked out of him. He coughed a few times, trying to get air back in his lungs.

Maddock straightened up and then looked around.

“What the... hell was that?” he said.

“Oh sorry,” Black said with a grin. “That was just my jab... but if you can’t handle that, maybe I should just blow you kisses.”

Impossible-- no way a dame could do that. He looked at Wolfe, it had to have been him...

Ignoring Black, Maddock jumped at Wolfe.

Just as he started to build momentum, he felt something sweep his legs and the ground came up to meet him-- be broke the fall with his hands, barely in time.

Maddock glared at her from the ground. She was positioning herself for another attack... it really was her that hit him.

He slowly got to his feet, his blood boiling. Dame or no dame, she was going down.

Before he could prepare for another attack, Black shot forward at him.

A series of blows hit him in the chest and face-- punches or kicks, he could not even tell.

Things got dizzy and he stumbled toward queer street, but managed to recover-- just as a blazing kick flew by him.

He managed to dodge it partially, but it still grazed him. Although he was getting hit every time, he was starting to see the attacks coming at least.

Black danced around him. She smiled at him with those luscious red lips. He did not know whether to kiss her or hit her.

Before he could decide what to do next, she jumped forward.

Maddock rose his guard, blocking her head strikes. He felt a blow to his leg, it was not hard enough to fell him, but she did not know that.

He faked stumbling forward to get close, twisted himself, throwing his body into a kick to sweep her legs.

Black jumped into the air to avoid it. As she came down, he threw a right cross, followed by a left hook-- she weaved the right and blocked the left, then stepped forward with a flurry of straight punches.

Although he saw most of it coming and blocked it, they were strong enough to break right through his guard and pepper his face with blows. Maddock felt them land on his cheek and forehead-- he stumbled back, but stayed on his feet.

Face throbbing and the taste of blood in his mouth-- there was no way he was letting her go unscathed.

Angrily, he charged at her with a roar, feinting right, then jumping to the left. He jumped up, lifting his leg for a knee attack, but somehow she blocked it with her elbows and dug them deep into his thigh-- it hurt.

In that same motion, she grabbed the side of his leg and spun him, flinging him across the room like a rag doll-- he landed about twelve feet away, rolling around and smashing into a pile of machinery.

Maddock should have been completely out of it with that throw, but somehow his broken body recovered and he refused to pass out.

Black relentlessly charged at him, but he jumped up in time to meet her attack.

He threw a straight right-- she deflected and countered, he partially blocked it and then countered with his own.

Another exchange, strike, block, parry-- she was not getting him this time.

Maddock reveled at the combinations and moves that he was able to execute-- he had never trained in this kind of fighting. It was like he was unlocking some hidden skills.

As he became lost in the reflexive series of punches and kicks, his next attack struck air-- she was gone.

Maddock somehow sensed that she flipped over him and was behind him now.

Before he could reorient himself to defend himself, a series of blows hit him. It started at his legs, and ended somewhere up his back. He could not even tell what she hit him with, but it was enough... everything went black.

When Maddock opened his eyes, he saw Wolfe and Black standing over him.

Wolfe reached out a hand and helped pull him up to his feet.

Maddock stumbled, still dizzy.

“Ready huh?” Black said. “If I could do that to him wearing high heels and a skirt... imagine what that demon will do to him. You better think this through, Wolfe.”

Maddock rubbed his face-- he was bleeding from his mouth and nose. He could feel bruises pulsating like a heartbeat. His legs and back were numb, his thighs felt like rubber. He knew that once the adrenalin rush expired, he would be in even more pain.

Wolfe and Maddock’s eyes met. Maddock could see doubt in them.

“I’ll bring an Ouija transponder as a precaution,” Wolfe said. “If we can’t handle it...”

Black shrugged and then began walking away.

“Fine,” she said. “But I’m not sending in any more of our own on this one. This is your personal mission, Wolfe. Good luck with it.”

© Copyright 2015 AJVega (UN: ajv73 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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