Red Twilight: A Dawning Of Power

Chapter 3 The von Richton Watcher's Society

Tail had found her way to the surface, but something had gone wrong. Marks did not come for her, nor did Lichi. Tail makes a choice. She runs. Tail finds she can live on the road so long as she is smart. She sticks to back roads, she steels clothing, food, and finds a skateboard. Once on the surface Tail runs east, she quickly finds herself facing the ocean then turns to face south.

Tail has never seen the ocean, she has never seen any of the outside world. Quickly Tail has to turn to instinct to make decisions. Soon Tail will learn that the world hostel, and a little fox like her that fails to watch her step will find herself 'underwater' in short order

***

Richard Blake is a young man, he was born into the life of a hunter. He is laying in the road bloody and beaten. A gladius clutched in his fist, his tan overcoat is shredded, his jeans are torn and falling off of his body. Richard pushes himself up to a kneeling stance, he spits out a mouth full of sand. One hand finds the side of his head as he groans. He looks side to side trying to figure out where he is and how he got there.

Richard yells out looking for his brother and his lover. "Chriss! Charry!" there is on one around. Blake takes in his surroundings, it is mid-day, he is sitting on the side of a interstate. There is tall wheat stalks growing all around him. Blake calls out again "Chriss! Charry!"

Blake can remember just bits and pieces of yesterday, he and his brother where on a hunt. A old man with a cane, he head told the three of them a story about a monster breeding ground hidden inside a hotel. Chriss was gun-ho as always, Charry tried to talk them out of hunting that day.

In the hotel the three of them found a statue of a god-like being. From there Blake's memories seem to get cluttered. He came face to face with so many things he has never seen. Then he came face to face with a monster, it had white skin, violet eyes. The monster whispered a word … "Ju-on"

The monster proceeded to smack Blake around, seemingly just for fun. Chriss came to Richard's aid. Blake lowers his head, he remembers, or thinks he remembers. Chriss was stabbed by his own sword. Charry had grabbed Richard, she dragged him out of the hotel. Charry did not follow him out.

Blake stands up, he picks a direction and starts to walk. Where to? It makes no difference. A crippling deportation has taken root. Blake walks for hours, he has no destination, no place to go, no one to call. Hunters make few friends and have no family. It seems to be one of their defining characteristics. Blake digs around in his pockets taking inventory of what he has on him: bill fold, $34 cash, a revolver, 7 9mm rounds, and Chriss' sword. Blake whimpers "Chriss."

Richard walks down a silent road for miles before a lone car comes into sight. It is a high end imported car, black in color, twenty years ago it would have been top of line. Blake waves at the car. The windows are tented. Blake places a hand on the hood as the car pulls over. Blake thanks the driver as the she rolls down the window only a crack.

A posh voice interrupts Blake "Are you Christopher Blake?"

Blake shakes his head, "No, I Richard, Chriss is my twin…" Blake suddenly notices he has ask such a strange question. A gun sticks out the window. A silver gun with blue engravings on it. Blake in a panic reaches for his revolver. He never gets a chance to take aim. Richard is shot once, he stagers a few steps.

One of Blake's hand reaches up to feel where he was shot, he pulls a dart out of his c.h.e.s.t and looks confused. Two more shots are taken, Blake crumbles to the ground overwhelmed by poison in the dart.

The doors of the car open, three people step out. A woman in a red three-piece suit is the first out, she has wide brimmed glasses, she has long blond hair and glowing pink eyes. She holsters her gun. "where are the other two. The brother and the s.u.c.c.u.b.u.s? You told me there where three of them?"

The second man out of the car is a bearded man with skunk strips in in his hair, he is plump and has on thick black gloves, he has a green overcoat. He has a cane, he leans on the hood of the car. "my first thought, they failed the entrance exam."

The third man is barley human looking, he has a crown of thorns growing out of his head, and skin that looks like wood, his hands are long and stretched. The women point at Blake, "Mr. England, please pick that up and throw it in the trunk."

The man with the crown of thorns bows "As you wish Ms. von Richton." England follows orders

Von Richton looks to the last man "Mr. Dove, this had best pay out. I have already invested more money in this hunter then I would like to."

"we are going to need boots on the ground, Cravixs is coming back." Dove explains

Von Richton gets back in the car "you have been saying that for 40 years."

Dove gets back in the car "I am right this time."

The car phone rings, Dove picks it up. He listens for a few seconds. Von Richton folds her hands across her face waiting. Joe hangs up, "Saisana has been spotted again."

Von Richton replies, "I will contact Agent Malaguard, she will handle this."

Dove wiggles in his chair, he leans over the front set looking to England "Mr. England, Get me to Miami. I want to see this first hand."

***

Tail walks along the beach on a hot Florida night. Tail is unaware she is being watched. In a car half a block away Dove sits, he picks up his radio, "Kitsune, female, 800+ years old."

A second voice comes over the radio, a deep male voice. "It isn't Saisana, I can see her, the fur pattern is wrong."

Dove clicks the radio on "Agent Frog, Agent Womack, Agent Frog. Move into position. I want to bring her in."

A third voice comes in, a gruff female voice "We have a group of missionaries on are Six."

Dove ask for clarification "Malaguard, what is there position?"

Frog clicks on his radio "Did you just ask what the missionary position is?"

Malagaurd comes back on "I know these two, it is Nightingale and Headsmen."

Dove curses "The Jesuit's." he waits for a moment thinking "Malagaurd, send the preachers back to church. Frog, grab the fox."

***

(page taken form the journals of Richard Blake.)

Her name is Wright von Richton, and mine is Richard Blake. Yesterday I was picked up by her men, the so-called Holy Order of the von Richton Watcher's Society. "Around here, D.i.c.k Blake, we try to be punctual," she calls to me in her thick British accent. But honestly, I don't even know what day it is, let alone the time.

"Richard," I respond. "I like to be called Richard."

She crosses her hands and hides her mouth as she lowers her head, slouching slightly on her ancient throne of a chair. "I prefer D.i.c.k." She is wearing a pair of glasses with wire frames and introverted lenses, as if to impair her vision rather than improve it. But as far as d.i.c.k goes, I do not think she sees them often. Her face is lovely, but her posture belies her beauty, as does her clothing. She's wearing a business suit, crimson in color, with a bright ascot held in place by a brooch in the shape of the iron cross. Her hair is platinum blond, almost silver.

"If you don't mind, Mr. Blake," she says as she reaches alongside her chair for a martini glass, "you are what we around here call an Abet," she takes a sip of her sweet, light liquor, "and I don't particularly like your kind." She tauntingly places her glass back on the table and strokes up the back of the cat statue that makes up one leg of the chair. The chair looks to be carved from a red wood, finely crafted with two cats lying on their stomachs with their a.s.s ends in the air, forming the legs. The back of the chair seems to be a gargoyle of some kind, but I can't make out the details due to the red light being cast through the window behind Ms. von Richton.

"You're mistaken," I explain, "I'm a hunter."

"You are a clairsentient with the innate ability of Aura Sight," she explains, "just like your brother was. In fact, I bet you could even feel me, couldn't you?"

What? How would she know about my brother or me? That's not right—or rather she is right, and that scares me.

"Did you know my brother?" I feel compelled to ask. Come to think of it, Ms. von Richton doesn't feel right—she is emanating energy almost like that of the demons my brother and I used to slay together. She smiles, no doubt knowing the confusion I'm feeling. She understands perfectly the power she has over me. She might be really s.e.xy, if she acted like a woman.

"There is a saying my predecessor liked; maybe you can appreciate it. It has so many meanings. 'Sometimes you may see some of my people, others times you may see all of them, but you cannot see all of them all the time.'" She tugs on the sleeve of her overcoat, allowing me to see the tattoo on her wrist in the shape of a 'W' with three rings around it. "I hear you killed the monster that killed your brother, a Lemure."

"It was a demon, one like I have never seen before," I argue, "we had slain at many before but this one caught us off guard…" my thoughts trail off into nothing

She smirks almost evilly. "Filthy tainted mortals foolish enough to fall beneath the kiss of an Erinyes, infantile monster. Those sad posers aren't worthy of being associated with true demons."

I change my mind—maybe Ms. von Richton isn't so cute after all. She says, "Tell me, have you ever seen a real demon?" A strange energy overcomes me. The room seems darker. I feel a cold wind, and a dread unlike any I can remember sweeps over me.

I look behind me and see the most grotesque thing I have ever seen—a monster pretending to be a human being. It stares at me mockingly. It's over six feet tall, with leather skin pulled so tightly that the stretch of its muscle can be seen through its skin. Its teeth look like drill bits, and a crown of spikes grows from its skull. Elongated hands end in hooks at the end of its fingers, and the foul beast's eyes are horrible—so deep, so dark, greener than any other green, and portraying not the rage I'm familiar with, but instead a malevolent cunning.

My heart pounds within me, almost physically jerking me to and fro. I can't breathe. My eyes are locked on it as feelings of fear and rage fill me and it groans a laugh, joyfully feeling my fears, which seemingly bring the creature e.r.o.t.i.c ecstasy. It stands like a wall before me, no larger than an ordinary man, but somehow far more imposing. It is clothed in blackened scrubs stained with blood. I feel myself sweating and, becoming dizzy, I nearly faint from fear before von Richton speaks again.

"That is a true demon," she says, calling my attention back to her. "His name is England. He is a Greater Baatezu from Phlegethos, the fourth tier of the land you call hell." I can't understand a word she is saying, but she continues, "Blake, are you a saintly man?"

"No." But maybe it's not too late to start.

"Good," she responds, "that saves me the heaven/hell analogy. I get so bored repeating myself for every zealot slacker that comes in here. I can move right on to dimensionalism."

She looks relieved, but I still don't understand. "Earth as we know it," she says, "is not a part of a single universe, but instead a part of a multi-verse. This one is one of millions of Earths like it, which are connected by both nothing and everything. The power called Agency (Agency is the power of free will which shapes destiny and the world itself) is the key, free will is the way, and every move you make—every dirty thought you may think—has a tremendous effect on the multi-verse. This results in endless worlds, some with only mild changes from this one, such as your favorite café having changed their prices, but others with changes so significant as man having evolved from avian life, or the influence of God being so great that the discovery of electricity becomes as meaningless to the average man as the discovery of gluons."

The monster England steps up to Ms. von Richton, and my vision grows foggy. All of a sudden, I can't hear anything. She takes off her glasses. She is radiant. The room seems brighter. England kisses Wright passionately. Her suit changes before my eyes. Now it's a nightgown, white and transparent. I'm hallucinating—that's the only answer.

Or maybe I'm wrong. I feel warm. There is something soft beneath me, and I discover that I'm sitting on my knees. It isn't England kissing Wright, it's me. Yeah, I can get use to this. The office has melted away, and we are in a wondrous bedroom with gold sheets. Wright is rolling her back up and down my c.h.e.s.t, m.o.a.ning like a dog in heat as she turns and kisses me. I'm not in control of my body. I reach one hand down to her pelvis and squeeze her lovingly. She firmly presses her a.s.s against me, begging for attention. A pair of radiant white wings sprouts from her back, like the wings of angels in old-world art. Her warmth is overwhelming. I feel a passion I haven't felt in years.

I hear the clank of metal, and suddenly there is something wet on my hand. No,

this can't be! I know what I think I'm feeling but it can't be—or at least I don't want it to be. Wright slouches forward, her wings limp. She slowly becomes cold. The room darkens and my vision blurs in and out as I pull my hands away from her. Knives have grown from my fingertips, and I'm half covered in blood. The room browns in decay. I feel myself scream, but no sound emerges. What is wrong with me?

"Blake!" I hear a scream, "are you listening to me?"

It's Wright—the real Wright, not my fantasy. My sight clears, and I'm standing right where I was before, dazed and confused. "Come with me and I'll show you around before your job, but first let's get you burned."

(Note added by Archivist Lincoln Gallard: if you are reading this note that means you are reading from the soft copy of this doc.u.ment, if you are looking at the time stamps at the bottom of this doc.u.ment you may have noticed there is gap in the time stamp. Richard Blake still under the influence of INT-23 is suffering from hallucinations. There are serval pages of Blake describing his delusion, I have cut around this to the best of my ability leaving in only as much as needed to give context to future references.)

How much time has passed? What happened to me? Is it England? Is that only a taste of what's yet to come? I fear the world I have just entered.

Ms. von Richton sticks her hand into her overcoat and draws a weapon. My eyes widen. I hear a click, I feel a sting, and I look down to see a dart with three needles protruding from my c.h.e.s.t. Has this happened before? It seems familiar. My eyes drop, and I feel like I'm falling.

"Mr. Blake."

I'm walking. My arm is numb. That voice; it's Ms. von Richton's. "They say you have a taste for the exotic." This place—is it below the bastion? It's different. The walls are metal, and so are the floors. There are men in hazard suits all around us.

"Your brother. His girlfriend was a licensed s.u.c.c.u.b.u.s; you and he shared her many times during their relationship," Ms. von Richton says.

"The perk of being a twin I guess."

"Mr. Blake, in my experience, every extra-planar being is a hair away from being a snarling, drooling, bloodthirsty monster, and if you knew what was good for you, you would content yourself with relations with only your own kind before you became the very monster you hunt."

I don't think they're that bad. In fact, some are really pretty up close.

A pair of men are struggling with a fox woman. She is athletic-looking, with a model's body—large, full b.r.e.a.s.ts, a sharp curve to her h.i.p.s, orange-red fur with slightly grayed tips, and reddish-brown hair tied in a ponytail. She has a cl.u.s.ter of tails, maybe ten, and she is dressed in a pair of tight black jean shorts, a tube top that reads "p.o.r.n Q" in glitter, and an overshirt wrapped around her waist, like a skater might do. She has a California accent but is yelling like a New Yorker. Ms. von Richton looks to me as she signals me to stand still.

"What the hell is going on here?" she demands.

One of the men holding the fox woman says through his helmet, "We found her on

Long Beach."

The fox woman struggles furiously, but to no avail. "WTF, mate! This is no way to treat an American citizen! Are you a lawyer? I was sitting on the beach, someone shot me, now I'm being dragged into a prison, and no one has read me my rights yet or even told me why I'm under arrest."

One of the men twists her arm. "Silence in the presence of the honorable Wright von Richton," he says in a stoic tone.

"Get the f.u.c.k off me!" The fox woman thrusts her arms back and a wave of fire spits from her fingertips, singeing one of the guards' armor. "Umm, sorry." She laughs distraughtly.

"Shut up," von Richton barks at her with force. She grabs a report write-up from one of the officers and skims it. "You are an unlicensed nine-tailed canine Yugoloth, and had you been caught in Manc.h.e.s.ter instead, I would have had your execution warrant signed well before you saw a prison cell. But due to weak American protocol, I can't sentence you to death without a trial."

The fox growls, "Are you some kind of Nazi? You can't do that!"

"Take her away," Ms. von Richton yells. The men start shoving the fox away down the hall.

"God damn it!" the fox yells. "Get me my phone call! I want Johnnie Cochran, or

Perry Mason! I'll compromise—how about Ingrid Nowcert … the ALF … PETA!"

"Sorry about that," Ms. von Richton says as she returns to my side. "Here is your job. We have ID'd a Wolfin nest. Go there and kill anything not human. If you get there and find tarnished humans, do them a favor and kill them, too. If you fail, I'll simply send another agent, so try not to die on your first day on the job."

"Sorry," one of the officers speaks out, "but freaks don't have civil rights."

My mouth is dry I feel numb fear is in the air like it is most every time the dark side calls, but something not the same this time I can't tell if I'm hunting the monsters today or if it's a monsters shadow in which I know lie. I feel death all around me like a stinging water and I can't help but wonder, is it coming for me this time or just passing under my nose like it was with my brother so few days ago it would seem.

***

Tail is puhed into a small room with a mirror wall and a table, Tail looks over the room, "well this feels like home." A stalky man stands in the shadows waiting for her behind the door.

The man walks in behind her, he sets up a camera then interduces himself "The name is Joe Dove." He waves to a chair in the room. "How are the accommodation?"

Tail does as she is told. She is accustomed to taking instructions "well the bus ride was ok, the bell hop was pretty touchy…" Tail plays along with Joe's joke "haven't been shown to my room yet, are you in charge here?"

Joe smiles and fiddles with his camera, he fails to give Tail and answer. "I have been told your name is Tail." Tail looks up as Joe seems to be having trouble getting the camera running, he waves his hand in front of it "what the hell?" Joe whispers as he can't seem to get a picture.

Tail looks down then up "try flipping the yellow and red plugs."

Joe nods and fallows Tails recommendation, the camera springs to life. "hay thanks. I just got this thing, I am told it would let me get twice as much work done in a day as I ever could have in the past. I am still trying to figure out how."

Tail looks to Joe as he is struggling to get the camera up and running. "so, what do you do here?"

Joe squints as he is looking over the wires to make sure everything is plugged in "what we do and what we are meant to do are two estranged beasts. We are at this time acting as an ununiformed mercenary police force. But this is not the job any of us signed up for."

Tail nods "so what are you supposed to be?"

"Funny thing really." Joe explains "no one seems to remember where we came from or what we were sent her to do. One story said that we where a group organized by Alexander the Great, we where a group of elite men that would ride across the kingdom finding and protecting art and wisdom. At some point we become spies, thieves, assassins. Now an invisible army fighting in a secret war." He takes a deep breath, "ok red light is blinking, lets try this thing out." He turns to look at Tail "can you please state your name?"

"Tail Vixon." Tail explains

"Did you say "Vixen?" Joe asks

"No, Vixon, I was named after doctor Mercedes Vixon." Tail expresses

Joe nods as he takes a set across from Tail "where are you from Tail?"

"New York." Tail explains

Joe folds his hands thinking "I recall no kitsune clans licensed to live in New York."

Tail rest her head in her hands "I am not a Kitsune."

Joe leans in "so what are you?"

Tail offers a short and elegant expansion "I am a synthetic person."

Joe stands with a hard breath "Do you drink coffee?" Joe approaches the door, Tail nods, Joe knocks at the door as he looks over his shoulder, "How do you take your coffee?"

Tail giggles, "I like my coffee like I like my friends Hot and Sweat, … and with a spoon, and cream…" Tail tries to continue the joke but is out of ideas at this point.

In short order Joe provides Tail with a cup of coffee, he sits back down with a huff as he thinks, he wipes his face with a hand before continuing "So, New York. where in New York could I find synthetic people?"

Tail awsers without a second thought "Claw Co International Tower, Claw Co. R&D, West wing. I spent most of my time on floor 40." Tail feels no need to hide anything. She is honest and open by nature, possible to the point of it being seen as a character flow.

Joe takes a sip of his drink then tip his head watching Tail. Tail isn't acting like someone with something to hide. As far as Joe can tell, she is telling the truth to the best of her understanding. "and is that our New York?"

Tail ask for clarification "you mean in the U.S.? Yeah, I didn't swim here from London or anything."

Joe nods "of course not." Joe smiles, a slight pinch of anger pulls at the back of his neck "How many of you are there Tail?"

"Synthetics?" Tail states "There is me, so one , then Nile, Jude, that would be three and Karin is four." Tail counts out her fingers to make sure of that "Yep, I count four."

Joe offers a puzzling grin "and do you have family? Mother, father, siblings?"

"no mother, I wasn't born, I was constructed. I suppose that, that would mean that I am sisters with all the other synthetics. If I had a father it would have to be Dr. Marks Karingson. Im like one sixty fourth Mercadies also, her being only one of two girls on the 'Tail project'…" Tail starts to ramble off into nothingness

Joe waves "Finish your coffee Tail, Millie should be here soon to help you to your room. I need to head to the library."

Tail Smiles, her tails fan in a halo wagging behind her. "Thanks Joe."

Joe walks out of the room, he whispers with someone standing in the hallway, Tail wiggles her ears trying to hear what they are say but Joe must have some idea about Tail's enhanst senses as he keeps his voice down.