Atlantis Arising [M] [Most Original 4Q '11] [Best Veteran 1Q '12]
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March 12th, 2012 (12:08 AM).
Butcher of the Sands
Jeremy Kyle – Ohio, America
Jericho stood upright after conversing deeply with Peter, something about the boy had changed in the few minutes the boys had taken to converse with one another about the possibility of Jericho leaving, and by his reply, Jeremy knew Jericho had made up his decision.
“So, travel is free?” Jericho asked with a smirk, making Jeremy smile and take the boy’s hand. Jeremy was ecstatic that someone else was going to be joining them and the Syndicate, sure Jeremy liked Leon, but Leon was still quite hostile towards Jeremy, reminding him somewhat of the Directive, and others would mean more people to get to know and hang out with.
Jeremy brought Jericho closer to himself to make it easier for teleportation, bidding Peter a swift farewell before teleporting himself and Jericho halfway across the world to England. When it came to himself, Jeremy found it easy and that it took less energy to teleport by himself, with another person however, this became twice as difficult. The more people he needed to teleport, the more difficult it became for him, and if he wasn’t careful, he could easily kill himself, and no doubt the others he was taking with him. The energy required to teleport himself would be doubled, triple, quadrupled and so on depending on the amount of people he would be teleporting; one extra person was more than enough energy.
With eyes closed, Jeremy kept a mental picture of the air force base for later reference if he was to ever travel to America again, the slowly replaced the picture of Ohio with one in England; Sheffield to be precise. Jeremy checked his watch when they arrived, already feeling the stress on his body from having to teleport Jericho alongside himself, but he had one more recruit the Directive wanted him to receive, and with two failed attempts, two recruits would be better than one, despite the drawback he would experience. Before traveling to America, Jeremy had searched out the next residence where his new recruit lived, bringing Jericho into an alleyway, frightening a stray cat. Jeremy had planned the timing perfectly; the picture of Archie Stevens matched the same description of the boy who walked past the alleyway, stopping to wait for a bus.
Jeremy motioned for Jericho to follow behind him as he left the shadow of the alleyway to the sidewalk, following Archie from a safe distance. As soon as Archie stopped at the bus stop, Jeremy carried on walking, joining Archie at the bus stop as his watch began to buzz. His heart started racing,, the buzzing of his watch meant that he was out of time, the Directive would be expecting his presence in the Warehouse within the next couple of minutes and if he didn’t make an appearance soon, he would be in sever trouble with the Directive; someone he would never want to cross.
“Sorry,” Jeremy muttered under his breathe, eyes down cast, as he grabbed Archie’s shoulder the same time as he reached back and grabbed Jericho’s shirt. Jeremy would explain thing when they were back in the warehouse, but for now Jeremy needed to deliver them to the Syndicate. By the time Jeremy had grabbed their shirts; he had already brought up the picture of the warehouse in his head and began to teleport. He would regret the damage done once they were in the warehouse.
It felt like his arms were going to rip out of their sockets. As per usual, Jeremy appeared a metre about the ground, the three boys falling onto the hard concrete below. Jeremy cried out at the pain from having so forcefully teleported the other two, tears brimming at the edges of his eyes threatening to roll away. He brought his arms close to his body, wrapping them around his chest, keeping them in as if somehow they would recover quickly that way. With eyes firmly closed to drive back the pain, he didn’t notice the light flood the floor they lay on and three men stepped out from the shadows. The middle man was the same that had met Leon and Jeremy the day before; he was short, around five and a half feet tall, his bodyguards closer to six feet. Balding and stocky, this man seemed to fit the stereotype of "rich drug dealer" or at least someone who dealt in dodgy dealings, with influential people.
The chairs from yesterday remained, yet another chair had made an addition to the ones already existing there; they had obviously been expecting at least two of Jeremy’s recruits to make an appearance. “Hello Mr. Heiko, and Mr…” he stopped for a bit, tapping his chin in a thinking pose, “…Mr. Stevens. Have a seat, both of you.” This wasn’t really an offer more like an order, but Jeremy still gave the two a look as if to say ‘go ahead.’
Clearing his throat, he began to speak again, "I represent the Syndicate, a group of people interested in your....gifts, Archie and Jericho. Though I am not a part of them, I do dealings with them, such dealings as having to... babysit... you Atlanteans." He pulled a cigar from his coat pocket, lighting it in his mouth and blowing the thick, acrid smoke out in front of him, "You will be paid, quite generously too for someone like you, and your days will be anything but the boring lives of the humans around you as you will discover your ability and learn to use it," he emphasised the ‘someone’, as if trying to make them feel insignificant, he had done this countless times to Jeremy, "teaming up with others here to do what myself or those higher up," he briefly looked at the ceiling, "wish of you."
"So what do you say... Atlantean?" adding the last word a few seconds later, almost spitting it out.
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