Swolligator
Butcher of the Sands
- 1,955
- Posts
- 15
- Years
- Age 33
- Syndicate HQ
- Seen Jan 30, 2017
Syndicate Headquarters, Birmingham, England
November 12th, 2012
"Oakley…"
Wyatt continued to utter her name within the folds of a deep sleep. Ever since they had teleported on board that ship and Wyatt had been shot after hearing her name yelled, memories and strange, vivid dreams plagued his sleeping hours. In this particular dream he was running through what seemed like the backstreets of some middle-eastern country, chasing after a giggling girl whose fleeting golden hair was all he could catch a glimpse of. She taunted him in his dream, giggling as if it were all a child's game. Desperately he ran on as her hair disappeared around a corner, or he heard her giggling from next to him.
Exhausted, he finally caught up to her, placing his hand on her shoulder and turning her to face him. Instead of the sweet, innocent, childish face his memories remembered, the person standing in front of him was someone else. This little girl pointed to the darkness in front of her where two glowing red eyes menacingly glared at him. Stumbling backwards, he tripped over his bow; his clothes having been replaced with his Syndicate issue outfit. From the shadows the monster towered over him; its palms the size of his torso and fingers the size of limbs. He made a rushed grab for the bow, but its colossal hand smashed down on the weapon.
"Oakley, STOP!" He screamed at the top of his lungs but the beast continued to proceed forward.
Wyatt continued to crawl backwards, trying to push himself further and further away, but she easily towered over him. Those massive red eyes were no longer the gentle green of his sister's but feral and angry. The little girl he had protected when they were just kids was no longer here; in her place stood the monster she had become.
"Oakley! Snap out of it! It's me, Wyatt!" He yelled at the monster yet it only seemed to make things worse.
He shivered as its salivating mouth dropped closer to his face; its breath almost burning the outfit off of his body. As much as he tried to remember that it was his sister, he could not get past the monstrosity that now fully loomed over him. Bringing his arms up in defence, he squeezed his eyes shut as he waited for it to eat him.
"Oakley!" Wyatt screamed as he sat upright in his bed. With heavy breaths and sweat beading down his forehead, he couldn't have been more thankful that it was a dream. This was only the second dream since the boat he had that involved Oakley but was by far the scariest dream he had ever dreamt. Rubbing his eyes and taking in a few deep breaths, he sunk back into his bed, trying to stop his heart from racing so quickly.
He lay there in bed, staring up at the ceiling thinking everything over. He had made such a big leap when he had taken Jeremy's hand. In the last month alone he had discovered his Atlantean heritage, pretended to be a superhero and also invaded a ship full of heavily trained guards to rescue some others and get out with single bullet wound. He went from University archer to secret spy agent in a matter of weeks; life seemed to be getting away from him rather rapidly.
"She's just like you."
Wyatt jumped as much as one could while lying down, pulling the blankets up around him as he scrambled backwards. "What the hell, do you not know about personal privacy? Jeez man, get the hell out!" He yelled at the creepy Blind Prophet who stood in front of the door blocking the entrance.
"You weren't imagining it, Oakley was on that ship." The Blind Prophet leaned against the doorway, his foggy eyes creeping Wyatt out even more. He had been distracted to even notice the man open and close the door; for someone with sight based abilities he could be really blind sometimes.
"How do you know that? Who are you?" Wyatt kept his eyes on the man, still weird out by his sudden appearance.
"I have seen a lot of things. I saw her on the ship, and I've seen you two meeting again." His speech was gentle and collected, like this was just an everyday conversation. Yet something about his speech sounded like there was a hidden meaning to each and every word.
"What do you mean that she's just like me?"
"She's Atlantean as well. Similar to the dream you just had."
"How? How can you do that? You look at people like you're looking past them. It's like you're seeing things no one else can see." Keeping up eye contact, Wyatt blindly patted his hand on his bedside table, grabbing the cold fabric of his shirt and slipping it over his head.
"It's my ability; my affliction. But I'm not here to talk about my ability. These people aren't your friends; they're not here to help you but only to control you. Use them while you can and then leave. It's what's best for you." The man refused to move from his position, neither did his voice change pitch or intonation worrying Wyatt even more.
"What the hell, man. Seriously, get the f*ck out of my room!" This guy was weird, acting like he knew what was going to happen. He was just trying to mess with his head; maybe it wasn't the Syndicate he should be careful of but this Prophet.
"Don't say I didn't warn you." The Blind Prophet picked up his white cane from its position leaning against the wall before leaving Wyatt to his own devices.
After the man left, it took Wyatt a little bit to come to terms with the situation. When he was ready he got out of bed and headed straight for the shower in the adjoining personal bathroom. It spent several minutes under the water after washing his body to let the water run over his head and cancel everything out. It felt good to finally get away from everything and escape from the world even if it was for only a couple of minutes. When he got out of the shower he wiped the steam off of the mirror standing over the basin. He looked back at the man staring back at him; cocking his head from side to side to get a better look at his profile. Next he flicked into Infra-Red vision, then back to his normal vision. As soon as he did so he noticed a flicker every time he changed his vision. Jumping between his normal vision and the other visions accompanying his ability, he found that his irises changed colour to match.
As he looked closer into the mirror, he noticed that every time he zoomed in or out through his vision, his irises would shudder as if they were moving back and forth like a camera lens. His discovery was interrupted by a banging at the door to his room.
"Hurry up, dickhead, everyone's waiting on you!" October's angry voice seemed to carry through the ear and he was sure his door was rattling more than it should have.
Quickly throwing on his Syndicate gear, he opened the door to find October still standing there angrily. "Sorry, was distracted."
"Stop w*nking over that Russian chick and get out here, we're got a mission." October flicked her hair behind her shoulders as she turned on her heels and walked down the hall.
Closing the door behind him, Wyatt made his way to the common room where everyone was assembled and fully decked out in their Syndicate issue gear. Even young Fletcher had his own, small suit on. As they all sat on or stood behind the couches, the Directive stood in front of the TV; his face never moving from the serious look he always seemed to wear.
"It's good of you to finally join us, Cale." The Directive spoke in his familiar monotonous voice, "As you all know, the Syndicate runs a banking firm to work not only as a façade but also to fund our operations. Currently we're trying to form a merger with another banking firm, but things aren't quite going smoothly. There is one cog in the gears that is refusing to agree and thus, needs to be eliminated."
"So now it's a hostile takeover?" October asked sarcastically, "why do you need all of us to take out this one guy?"
The Directive glared at October, "Think of it more like corporate espionage. We've got all hands on deck because we need to make this as smooth and inconspicuous as possible." Gesturing to the TV behind him, the black screen lit up to replace the previously watched cartoons with blueprints of the bank's headquarters and a look at their plan of attack.
"Oakley…"
Wyatt continued to utter her name within the folds of a deep sleep. Ever since they had teleported on board that ship and Wyatt had been shot after hearing her name yelled, memories and strange, vivid dreams plagued his sleeping hours. In this particular dream he was running through what seemed like the backstreets of some middle-eastern country, chasing after a giggling girl whose fleeting golden hair was all he could catch a glimpse of. She taunted him in his dream, giggling as if it were all a child's game. Desperately he ran on as her hair disappeared around a corner, or he heard her giggling from next to him.
Exhausted, he finally caught up to her, placing his hand on her shoulder and turning her to face him. Instead of the sweet, innocent, childish face his memories remembered, the person standing in front of him was someone else. This little girl pointed to the darkness in front of her where two glowing red eyes menacingly glared at him. Stumbling backwards, he tripped over his bow; his clothes having been replaced with his Syndicate issue outfit. From the shadows the monster towered over him; its palms the size of his torso and fingers the size of limbs. He made a rushed grab for the bow, but its colossal hand smashed down on the weapon.
"Oakley, STOP!" He screamed at the top of his lungs but the beast continued to proceed forward.
Wyatt continued to crawl backwards, trying to push himself further and further away, but she easily towered over him. Those massive red eyes were no longer the gentle green of his sister's but feral and angry. The little girl he had protected when they were just kids was no longer here; in her place stood the monster she had become.
"Oakley! Snap out of it! It's me, Wyatt!" He yelled at the monster yet it only seemed to make things worse.
He shivered as its salivating mouth dropped closer to his face; its breath almost burning the outfit off of his body. As much as he tried to remember that it was his sister, he could not get past the monstrosity that now fully loomed over him. Bringing his arms up in defence, he squeezed his eyes shut as he waited for it to eat him.
"Oakley!" Wyatt screamed as he sat upright in his bed. With heavy breaths and sweat beading down his forehead, he couldn't have been more thankful that it was a dream. This was only the second dream since the boat he had that involved Oakley but was by far the scariest dream he had ever dreamt. Rubbing his eyes and taking in a few deep breaths, he sunk back into his bed, trying to stop his heart from racing so quickly.
He lay there in bed, staring up at the ceiling thinking everything over. He had made such a big leap when he had taken Jeremy's hand. In the last month alone he had discovered his Atlantean heritage, pretended to be a superhero and also invaded a ship full of heavily trained guards to rescue some others and get out with single bullet wound. He went from University archer to secret spy agent in a matter of weeks; life seemed to be getting away from him rather rapidly.
"She's just like you."
Wyatt jumped as much as one could while lying down, pulling the blankets up around him as he scrambled backwards. "What the hell, do you not know about personal privacy? Jeez man, get the hell out!" He yelled at the creepy Blind Prophet who stood in front of the door blocking the entrance.
"You weren't imagining it, Oakley was on that ship." The Blind Prophet leaned against the doorway, his foggy eyes creeping Wyatt out even more. He had been distracted to even notice the man open and close the door; for someone with sight based abilities he could be really blind sometimes.
"How do you know that? Who are you?" Wyatt kept his eyes on the man, still weird out by his sudden appearance.
"I have seen a lot of things. I saw her on the ship, and I've seen you two meeting again." His speech was gentle and collected, like this was just an everyday conversation. Yet something about his speech sounded like there was a hidden meaning to each and every word.
"What do you mean that she's just like me?"
"She's Atlantean as well. Similar to the dream you just had."
"How? How can you do that? You look at people like you're looking past them. It's like you're seeing things no one else can see." Keeping up eye contact, Wyatt blindly patted his hand on his bedside table, grabbing the cold fabric of his shirt and slipping it over his head.
"It's my ability; my affliction. But I'm not here to talk about my ability. These people aren't your friends; they're not here to help you but only to control you. Use them while you can and then leave. It's what's best for you." The man refused to move from his position, neither did his voice change pitch or intonation worrying Wyatt even more.
"What the hell, man. Seriously, get the f*ck out of my room!" This guy was weird, acting like he knew what was going to happen. He was just trying to mess with his head; maybe it wasn't the Syndicate he should be careful of but this Prophet.
"Don't say I didn't warn you." The Blind Prophet picked up his white cane from its position leaning against the wall before leaving Wyatt to his own devices.
After the man left, it took Wyatt a little bit to come to terms with the situation. When he was ready he got out of bed and headed straight for the shower in the adjoining personal bathroom. It spent several minutes under the water after washing his body to let the water run over his head and cancel everything out. It felt good to finally get away from everything and escape from the world even if it was for only a couple of minutes. When he got out of the shower he wiped the steam off of the mirror standing over the basin. He looked back at the man staring back at him; cocking his head from side to side to get a better look at his profile. Next he flicked into Infra-Red vision, then back to his normal vision. As soon as he did so he noticed a flicker every time he changed his vision. Jumping between his normal vision and the other visions accompanying his ability, he found that his irises changed colour to match.
As he looked closer into the mirror, he noticed that every time he zoomed in or out through his vision, his irises would shudder as if they were moving back and forth like a camera lens. His discovery was interrupted by a banging at the door to his room.
"Hurry up, dickhead, everyone's waiting on you!" October's angry voice seemed to carry through the ear and he was sure his door was rattling more than it should have.
Quickly throwing on his Syndicate gear, he opened the door to find October still standing there angrily. "Sorry, was distracted."
"Stop w*nking over that Russian chick and get out here, we're got a mission." October flicked her hair behind her shoulders as she turned on her heels and walked down the hall.
Closing the door behind him, Wyatt made his way to the common room where everyone was assembled and fully decked out in their Syndicate issue gear. Even young Fletcher had his own, small suit on. As they all sat on or stood behind the couches, the Directive stood in front of the TV; his face never moving from the serious look he always seemed to wear.
"It's good of you to finally join us, Cale." The Directive spoke in his familiar monotonous voice, "As you all know, the Syndicate runs a banking firm to work not only as a façade but also to fund our operations. Currently we're trying to form a merger with another banking firm, but things aren't quite going smoothly. There is one cog in the gears that is refusing to agree and thus, needs to be eliminated."
"So now it's a hostile takeover?" October asked sarcastically, "why do you need all of us to take out this one guy?"
The Directive glared at October, "Think of it more like corporate espionage. We've got all hands on deck because we need to make this as smooth and inconspicuous as possible." Gesturing to the TV behind him, the black screen lit up to replace the previously watched cartoons with blueprints of the bank's headquarters and a look at their plan of attack.