Belial's Story

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Silence had befallen the calm before the storm, and nobody dared anymore venture into the dark if they valued their lives. A thick eerie fog had set in the heart of New Eden, so no one could make out the ungodly bloodshed occurring in one of its alleys. Blood painted its streets and splattered its walls, and what remained of the lifeless carcass that it once belonged to found itself slumped onto the ground – with its head neatly displaced nearby. “Fucking disgrace against your own kind.” What came next was enough to send chills down the spine of any ordinary person as he dug his fingers into the man’s skull; the excruciating sound of mutilating flesh as he removed its right eye. “An eye for an eye.”

“Bastard.” Spitting on its corpse and taking up his sword, he became a mere silhouette in the enveloping darkness that continued to writhe its way through the city. Slowly the skies began to grow dark and the streets ran cold, the silence broken by thunderous applause overhead before the rains came. Still clutched in his palm was the slimy sphere he had taken from the mage; but he wasn’t any ordinary mage. He was a dog of the government who sold out his own kind for a few pieces of silver and a warm bed. The only use he would ever serve was giving his assailant access to one of the most heavily fortified lockups in the city.

If there was a hell, this prison was it; inside was every unimaginable horror ever committed to anyone who ever called themselves a mage. Torture, genocide, and worst of all traitors. But soon enough they would all be taught a lesson to know what fear truly tastes like. Raising his arm and smirking in the distance, he closed his eye, and with a wave of his hand you would think he was maestro to Beethoven’s 9th as lightning violently struck the control tower. Screams echoed in the courtyard as chaos ensued, all the while the maestro stayed true to his ballad of death.

When the guards finally took notice it was already too late as he had made his move, slaughtering the men as if they were sheep. “Too slow.” Coming up on his last victim, he grinned as he drove his sword through the man’s back, bursting through his sternum as a spew of blood poured out just as he removed his blade. Alarms triggered, calls for backup could be heard screamed over the intercom. Using the eye he had procured earlier, he overrode the retina scanner to gain access to the inside – and was welcomed graciously to a firing squad on the other side. “For me... ? You shouldn't have!"

“Belial…”

As the lighting began to spread outside the two soldiers tensed up for a few moments.
Harper still lay on his back on the floor of his cell, a small draw of blood pooling from his face and then his face is overshadowed. The guard with the cockney voice was leaning over his and grabbing him by the cuff of the neck. Picking him back up, returning him to a seated position. "Well.. ya heard ah.." He grips the book snatching it off the bench and slides it under his arm.

They both look shaky for the moment as the other looks out the window. "Man it looks bad out there, never seen a lightning storm like this before. Think the power with hold out for the lights?.." He ask with a trembling tone in his voice. The cockney soldier responds as he finishes getting Harper upright. "Lights got they own power.. no storm ta worry bout." He goes to withdraw himself and stand, only to feel two sets of grips on his elbows. He looks down to see Harper staring back at him and a smile runs across the mages face. "Its not a normal storm and its what I call a second chance."

"Your lights aint going out.. and your not getting out." It was then that a sizzling sound came to his ears as well as the smell of burning wire and he could see over Harper's shoulder. It was the blood that pooled slightly and had begun to work its way down the edges of the glass, pooling at the base of the lights. Harper's smile grew as the lights began to flicker in an ever growing circle before they puttered to nonexistence.

A sudden onset of pain ran across his face as Harper's fingers dug deep into his skin and he stood, now holding the soldier aloft. The other reached for the small device that controlled the flow of power to the shackles and pressed the button. Holding it out towards the mage as if it was button to stop fate itself and the room filled with a lite buzzing noise. Harper tilted his head and the young man, months of conserving energy for this chance would not be left to waste as he tightened his grip.

Were it not for the small bands of dark energy that now separated his flesh from shackles. He clenched and spun the man to gain momentum, snapping his restraints free in the process. He threw the soldier from the cell, through the open bars where he collided with his comrade and crash into the wall. Harper is quick to follow and stand over their bodies, reveling in the darker sections of the corridor. He looked down and lost the smile as he spoke "I wish I could I would miss our time together.. but I would be lying." The last thing the two noticed was Harper's bare heel coming down form on high to crush the last of the life out of them.

With that done he took his time, switching from his clothes into those of the two men. Taking what he needed and ripping a weapon from still, cold, lifeless hands. He was soon dressed more reasonably now and had their weapons to boot before going to the wall and pulling the panel from a power access conduit and with relief pulled the wires from the wall. In an instant the power to the corridor was cut and he felt the familiar embrace of cold dense darkness hold him again, after so long.

He felt a calming feeling now as a hand lay on his shoulder. He looks back to see an all too familiar figure standing behind him. "Koshka.. its been too long." She was standing there in her stark dress, its was tight and almost looked as if a layer of skin on her form. Its cloth covered every inch of her aside form the sides of her neck that look stone cold and pale. The mask adorning her whole head was all the she ever wore since several years ago. That was the time she last changed form for him.

"Yes it has.. that mage is being useful. You could at least return the favor..." Her image dissolves as she finishes and her voice. Sounding like two blades being slide against one another being carried away on the air. Harper nods for the moment in a strange method of agreeing with himself all around. The mage outside responsible for this was in the act of defiance against the government and Harper could always use a bit for slaughter to make up for lost time. He kneels and pulls the tags from the necks of the lifeless bodies on the floor.

He stands arms astride and drinks in all the darkness from the space that he can muster before launching himself out the window. The time for waiting has passed and now he was ready for some well earned fun.

“What?” the waitress across from Laiq loosed a shrill squeak as the milkshakes she was carrying over to a booth surged in their cups. Drinks, sauces, and even the frying oil in the kitchen roiled violently as Laiq's magic bled into the nearby atmosphere. He stared at his phone, grip threatening to crack the screen. Whoever was on the other line spoke a few more times attempting to relay the information again and gain confirmation that the agent had heard, but hung up when only raucous answered them.

Laiq was already storming out of the restaurant before anyone could muster up the courage to ask him to leave. She was at it again. No matter how many times they spoke, how many times he tried to explain it to her, she still did not understand. That, or my likely Laiq realized, she didn't care. Etoile kept on maiming and killing captive mages for little to no gains. Magic-users that Laiq had captured in many cases, ones that he unwittingly delivered into the waiting clutches of one deranged earth mage.

Etoile Couvier was a bit of a sore spot as far as other agents were concerned. Laiq enjoyed her strength, her determination. She brought an impulsiveness that got things done where other members of the ACO would falter and fall back to rethink. Laiq frowned upon recalling the first time he had witnessed the darker side of Etoile.

Similar to many companies and government-funded facilities, the Arcanist Corrections Organization was a privately owned organization. As a result, it is assumed by the ruling government that they follow proper procedure. Assumed. Just like in any corrections facility, the jailors make the rules. They are the law. Human rights violations are as common as their perpetrators would like. Prisoners and non-compliants become plaything for people like Etoile to break. What she and her ilk did not realize was that they set the bar. If they extended basic human rights and proper living conditions to captured mages and their supporters, the horrible ghost-stories surrounding the ACO would vanish like smoke. People would see the value in their organization, not just the common folk who fear mages but other magic users themselves who are not so near-sighted as to believe regulations on magic have no merit.

A cab slowed near the curb in response to Laiq's hasty hailing. If I make it back to the facility soon enough, she may not have time to hurt the poor soul too badly. If not, well... best not to dwell on “ifs”.

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New Eden City | ACO Holding Facility | 3:15 PM

“By all that is holy, what on earth...?” the words tasted ashen in his mouth and his intentions to reprimand Couvier dissolved. The sky above the compound was a rolling mass of black shot through with veins of lightning. Above the din of thunder Laiq could hear the klaxon of the alarms going off. Faintly, he registered the sound of the cab driver speeding off to leave Laiq alone in front of the compound entrance.

The woman in charge of overseeing the gate stood motionless with her back turned. Her gaze was reserved solely for something out of sight. Laiq called out to the guard, and her attention snapped back to the present. Her rifle was leveled in Laiq's direction for a tense few moments before she realized that she was poiting her weapon at a sanctioned mage.

“Agent Kassem!” the guard relaxed the grip on her weapon and gave a half-hearted salute. It was obvious she was torn between wanting to assist in the defense of the ACO Facility and not wanting to abandon her post. The guard filled Laiq in before he could ask. “Reports have been spotty at best, but if what I have gathered is true, Belial is launching an assault on the Class-A criminal cell block.”

Laiq motioned for the guard to let him into the gatehouse. The man made a b-line for the lockers in the back of the wall-affixed building. Within a few moments he was dressed in the ACO guard uniform, a padded suit of white and blue built to absorb a great deal of trauma as well as resistance to temperature fluctuation. It was not much, but it afforded ACO troopers some measure of protection against the various abilities of mages.

Last was the helmet. A shock-resistant polymer covered the entirety of the piece, except the blue-lenses that served as eyes. The comm within the helmet sparked to life as the suit's basic micro-hydraulic systems activated. Mixed reports from across the compound flooded in. Belial's location, the number of wounded, several hostile magic-users were already running free.

There was no mistake where he was needed most. The guards could subdue what prisoners were freed, and there would be at least two-dozen Agent-Mages such as himself on the facility to assist. Laiq began sprinting through the corridors of the compound. He pressed a finger to the armor at his neck to activate the speaker-end of the comm.

“Agent Couvier. Agent Couvier, respond. It's Agent Kassem.” the hiss of mercury running through the power-system of the suit was a constant thrum in the background of his message. “Ignore any and all escaped detainees unless they immediately threaten you. There is a priority-1 target on the grounds, designation: Belial. He is a tier-1 Storm-Mage and to be killed on sight.” there was a small pause before Laiq spoke again. “I am heading to engage the target now. I will require assistance. Kassem, out.”

The double-doors opened outward into the courtyard overlooking the Class-A block. Bodies littered the stone and a large chunks of the building had been collapsed inward by some sort of tremendous force. Ahead, the source of the devastation was plain to see.

“Ex-Agent, designation Belial.” Laiq called out across the courtyard, his voice amplified by the speakers in the suit. “You are hearby ordered to laid down you arms and turn yourself in. Should you comply, your execution will be swift, and those aiding you will be allowed a fair trial.”

Not expecting a positive response, Laiq was already girded for battle. The storm provided all the moisture he needed to form eight spheres of water each the size of a small car. They hovered in a ring roughly ten feet from Laiq in a liquid bulwark, already churning with violent energy waiting for release. The agent fell in to a boxer's guard and allowed his mana to flow freely. He was already expecting a lightning strike. This is going to hurt...

At the same time, a sleek flash of pale flesh trailing shadowstuff leaped from a gap in the solitary block and into the storming outside. Oh no. Not Davlaman. Not taking his eyes from Belial, Laiq activated the comm bead once more and set up a feed with the firing squad a few dozen meters away.

“Detain the detainee, Davlaman.” scrambling for what information he could recall about the high-prority convict, Laiq hastily added: “Keep him at a range. His abilities make melee dangerous. Pump him full of lead, he will run out of mana to maintain his defense relatively quickly if you all focus on him.”

Without anything more than a ping of confirmation, the twenty-four ACO guards opened fire on Harper. Among them was a sanctioned Speed Mage, Lydia Cooper. The stocky woman wielded ten custom side-arms at the same time with her augmented speed, pumping out rounds towards Harper at twenty times the pace of the human members of the squad.

Sadly, that left Agent Laiq Kassem alone against the infamous Belial. For the moment, at least.

“Welcome home…” An all too familiar voice came from the other end of the hall, hiding behind twenty-four semi-automatics who had their sights locked onto him. It was fifteen years ago to the day that his life was changed forever. The government of New Eden had swept across the city like a plague, exterminating thousands of mages without prejudice. Dragged from his house, he watched as they burned it to the ground; and as the flames licked his face, they bore out his left eye with hot iron. With his one good eye, he watched on as they raped and tortured his mother, and just as the life left her eyes… he knew his destiny was to slaughter every last one of those sons of bitches.

Belial couldn’t remember what happened next; only that he awoke to unspeakable carnage and bloodshed… and that voice. The same voice that had once offered a scared forsaken child the chance to be free. Destiny can be a funny thing however because he accepted, and it took the next eight years killing his own to make him realize that this wasn’t who he was meant to be. Belial wasn’t that scared little child anymore, and the road to redemption started now.

“Dæmon!” Charging the firing squad, the man who lurked behind them only smiled and it took only one word for Belial to know that it was over. “Fire.” It was at that moment that the second floor collapsed, forcing him back onto the ground. “Foolish mages. There is so much more at stake here than your pathetic lives.” Having never even seen his face, he disappeared into the shadows, removed from Belial’s reach. As the soldiers struggled to their feet, Belial had no other choice but to contend with the dog at his back who would yet keep him from his goals.

“Ex-Agent, designation Belial. You are hereby ordered to lay down your arms and turn yourself in. Should you comply, your execution will be swift, and those aiding you will be allowed a fair trial.” Behind Belial, the wall had nearly collapsed, and beyond the lingering fog he could just barely make out a figure in the distance. Laughing as he crawled over the rubble of what was left of the building, he clutched his sword with a maniacal grin. “So is that what we’re calling an execution now? A fair trial. I’ll make your death a slow one, treacherous cur.”

“I’ve almost forgotten my manners. With you already knowing my name, I seem to have misplaced yours.” With the firing squad called back, it left only Belial and the whelp foolish enough to challenge him standing in the courtyard. Closing his eye and embracing the rain, suddenly lightning parted the sky, hailing down on top of him. Capturing the bolt with his sword, sparks instantly began to conduct between the metal sheeting of his blades, pulsating violently as he swung it out in front of him. “As nice a night as any to die… for you. I’ll give you one opportunity to just walk away. You see, you’re in the way of what I want… and normally when that happens, it doesn’t turn out so well for the other guy.”

Dæmon was one of the first and most powerful dark mages ever to surface; as an emissary to the AOC, it was his job to recruit and train prospective mages tasked with killing their own. Having overseen the extermination in 2040, he was a founding member of the AOC and one of the few to recommend Project Aegeus (the government enactment which permitted mages to join the military). Having recruited Belial at a young age, not once in eight years did he ever see his face. The man responsible for the death of his mother, there was a special place in hell reserved for the things Dæmon did. Belial simply wanted to make sure he made it there.

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Etoile walked aimlessly in the corridors. Somewhere, far away, she heard the echoing sounds of shrill screams. The cacophony of destruction and death that usually surrounded the facility was like music to her ears and it made her heart pound with excited vigor against her ribcage. She wasn't really aware of the background behind all the chaos that had suddenly sprung up, but she saw the cloud of black that rose up like the devil's fingers inching torturously slow and about to devour the very ground she stood on. She appreciated that, the theatricality of everything. It set up the mood and the stage for a battle that would not leave the minds of men for years to come.

The lights flickered overhead as her heels clicked against the carefully waxed floor. Behind her, her long dark locks swayed like a demon's tail, swishing with every movement of her hips. Her crimson eyes are hooded, bored, but clear enough for her to remain focused lest someone attempt to sneak up on her. The tip of Genocide slid on the floor, creating that deafening friction that made some people's teeth clench. For her, it was the sound of a promise. Her other hand clenched around a couple of seemingly ordinary rocks, special items that she had procured years prior for special cases such as what she was sure she would find in a while. Adrenaline coursed through her body like fire and the monster in her mind grinned maliciously.

The light stopped flickering overhead and disappeared completely, plunging the hallway into complete darkness. Etoile slid to the walls and kept her breathing shallow as the sounds of hurried footsteps echoed. Her grip on Genocide tightened, but she slipped the rocks back into her pockets. No, this one was not worth it. This one wasn't a threat moving to murder her. This one was running, like a coward. The person, she quickly discovered to be another mage, turned the corner and ran into her hallway, blind to the danger that dwelled within. His eyes were wide and afraid. He was pathetic.

She didn't have to wait long before he was killing distance. With one swift swing of Genocide, she separated his worthless head from his body, which slid on the floor due to inertia and stopped a couple of feet away. She caught the severed head in a fluid motion and held it high for her eyes to examine. He was nothing worth describing. Even the expression on his face at death was pathetic.

A hiss sounded from the lapel of her shirt. "Agent Couvier. Agent Couvier, respond. It's Agent Kassem,” came the rough voice from the tiny communicator that was pinned to her clothes. She had forgotten about that. “Ignore any and all escaped detainees unless they immediately threaten you. There is a priority-1 target on the grounds, designation: Belial. He is a tier-1 Storm-Mage and to be killed on sight.”

She looked at the decapitated body of the man she just killed with a blank face. "Oops," she said to nobody in particular, but with a smile tugging at her words. Laiq would probably give her an earful about this and she wasn't in the mood for any of that. She threw the head in the opposite direction of the body and heard it land with a sickening thump. She just wouldn't tell him about this little mishap.

“I am heading to engage the target now. I will require assistance. Kassem, out.” Etoile nodded, despite the fact that he would not see her. She swung Genocide in an arc and rid it of the pathetic swine's blood. With that, she made her way to the courtyard, where she felt the tremendous pull of chaos swirling like a whirlpool. It didn't take her long to establish a visual of the place and saw how much ruin had taken place. Her stomach flipped with anticipation.

She quickly spotted Laiq and moved to walk towards him when she felt a atronger force from the side. Her head tilted to the side as she examined this person. Harper Davlaman. Etoile's heard of him before and she couldn't help the smirk that reached her lips. Davlaman was strong and would be a worthy opponent, but there were already others dealing with him. Belial, on the other hand, had only Laiq to oppose him. Etoile shrugged as she pulled out her stones and pushed her power into them, willing them to bend to her command. They shone a magnificent emerald before shifting in her grip and forming her other sword. After a few test strikes, she moved out from behind the shadows and walked up casually beside Laiq. In her peripheral, she watched as Belial raised that sword of his.

"Sorry to join this party so late, but I'm here now," she offered another shrug. She turned her head to Belial and gave a simple curtsy. "Enchantee."

It was only sheer luck that Belial had chosen to monologue before their bout began. It stalled the engagement long enough for Etoile to arrive. Although he did not look her way, Laiq knew she was carrying that green blade with her: she always wielded the emerald weapon when she was fighting seriously. They would need everything in their arsenal to take down Belial, even two on one as it was. Laiq did not even flinch as the figitive's weapon began sputtering magical sparks.

“I'll have it move with you as best I can, but try to stay close to it.” with a small mental nudge, one of the aqueous spheres floating in the immediate area moved to hover just behind Etoile. This close, she might notice the unusual bubbles rapidly forming and popping within the water. Each sphere was fizzing at its core. A technique that Laiq had developed specifically to combat Air Mages, and one he hoped would not be necessary to demonstrate. As an afterthought, he added: “Don't talk with the enemy, Couvier.”

Belial was still speaking. The fact that he had not taken the initiative was something that Laiq intended to punish him for. The hiss of composite plates scrapping against stone accompanied the movement as Laiq began strafing around Belial, keeping him at a distance while moving away from Etoile. Two mobile targets would be far harder to hit with a gust of wind or lightning. The seven remaining spheres of water broke form and flowed protectively around Laiq as he sprinted, like great frothing serpents.

A quick cutting gesture stiffened the first of the water-javelins and condensed the mass, sending it hurtling towards Belial with the force of a mack truck. A couple more succinct movements brought two more of the water constructs around. They struck out at Belial from the sides, both taking the form of a giant's fist.

“Couvier,” Laiq shouted over the comm, “Keep this bastard grounded at all costs! Engage him in melee if you can. The longer we keep him fighting, the better our odds. Storm mages may be the strongest of our kind, but they burn through mana like wildfire.”

That was the gist of the plan: outlast the fugitive. The only flaw, however small, was surviving those terrifying moments of Belial's wrath.