As the gate to the Dojo closed firmly behind him, Akira felt a sudden wave of anger and resentment building up inside him. He was sick to death of people judging him. Ok, so he’d produced a few snakes out of thin air, what was the big deal? They’d occupied the attention of more bad guys that the team could have handled, allowing the completion of their mission and their escape from a pretty precarious situation. Sometimes the results were more important than the means. Anyone would have thought he’d shat in their soup!
He found himself snorting slightly at the thought; of course he wouldn’t have needed to, all he’d have to do is redefine the molecular structure of the lentils into any excrement of his choosing and hey presto, instant shit soup! He ignored the small voice in the back of his mind that reminded him that to do so he would have to be physically touching the soup when he changed its structure and would then be left with the results literally all over his own hands.
Cabot’s presence last night had unnerved him. It wasn’t like Akira to be lost for words and that bothered him, but it hadn’t been fear he assured himself, just a deep sense of confusion. He ‘knew’ Cabot was his enemy, yet there he’d been, sat beside him in accorded premises doing him yet another favour; warning them of a contract on their lives, having just restored to him his ancestral home. He’d treated him better than any of his acquaintances did (he wasn’t sure any of them were really his friends); better than Mai-Li, who seemed oblivious to his subtle attempts to get to ‘know’ her, better than Mary, Sam or the newbie, Mace.
He again thought back to the bar and the wet letter written in whiskey Cabot had drawn on the counter; He would have understood the letter ‘M’ as a threat or a warning, but a capital R? What could it mean? Perhaps it stood for ‘Revenge’? It was the first word that had come into his head when he’d seen it. That had been quickly followed by ‘Rebuke’, ‘Reflect’ and finally ‘Retreat’.
He realised that he missed the sanctuary of Skomer Vale; perhaps he should consider revisiting the retreat, just as a visitor? Then he felt the anger building inside him again. There was no going back to there – his presence would put too many people in danger, people he cared about. But Ffwrdd Dylan? Now that could become his own personal retreat. In the dark dystopian future of the invasion the squatters, ah, he meant survivors, had called Ffwrdd Dylan their ‘Sanctuary’. Hardly surprising, when he’d first visited it, hadn’t the house tried to protect him..? What other secrets could it possibly hold?
He absentmindedly scratched the dark mark on his arm as a resolution began to form in his mind. He’d had enough of being ridiculed by the other members of the Balance and it was time that they began to show him the respect he knew he deserved. Yes, that was probably it, Respect!
He felt a flash of anger burn through him. He would say goodbye to Mai-Li and Hsi Feng, his so-called Sensei, for the present. Perhaps he would invite her to join him at his Estate once he’d made sure the house was habitable? As for the Balance? He felt more than a little sadness at the thought of telling Sam he would be leaving but Mace had never been straight with them and was obviously hiding things. Perhaps she was a danger; perhaps even a potential contract killer? We never did learn her real name – did it start with an ‘R’ perhaps?
The contract bothered him, was now really the time to split up the team? Though, if he wasn’t part of the Balance, surely the contact wouldn’t apply to him anymore?
What about the others? If he left them would he be putting their lives at risk? His resolution wavered then he again felt the hot flush of anger rush through his blood. What about the others? They still had each other, and Mace and if they did run into trouble they struggled to handle without him then it would surely only make them value him more in the future. Respect… Yes, that would be what his decision would earn him.
As he opened a portal back to the teleport room in the BASEment, he was resolved to retreat to Ffwrdd Dylan. He stepped forward and…
A wave of peace flowed over him as he arrived in front of the crystal. His certainty evaporated. He wasn’t yet ready to walk away though he knew that the idea of Ffwrdd Dylan as a sanctuary was one he had to make come to pass but did he really need to walk away from his new life to achieve that?
Then the itch returned as he closed the door on the large shard of draconic crystal, the lack of appreciation again felt overwhelming. He could become the world’s master mage; he would learn all magic regardless of its source, become its master regardless of its origins, he would control it not the other way round. Ok so now was not the time to leave the Balance but it was definitely time to re-explore Ffwrdd Dylan and discover all of its secrets. Possibly discover how to recreate the mirror path that the survivors had used in the future…
Yes, he definitely needed somewhere where he could practice and experiment without the restrictions and interference of those he had thought were once his friends. There would come a time when he would need to say goodbye to the Balance forever… He felt a spike of pain in his chest at that thought, ok so maybe not just yet but at some point… He was already outgrowing them. After all, balance depended upon an equal distribution of forces around a single focal point. For now on he would become that point and find his own inner balance.
He turned and walked passed Adam without a word as he headed to his room deep in thought.
Interlude 1:
Half a world away, an elderly, scholarly-looking man sat in a chair and smiled as he adjusted his tweed jacket and stared into a crystalline mirror. “Well? Did it work?”
The young-looking man in the finely tailored suit nodded, “Yes, your counter spell worked. I was able to nudge his psyche. He’s primed to use any magic, if it meets his ends, even those that carry an eternal price. His innocence is both his strength and his greatest weakness. It’s only a matter of time.”
The old man nodded as he stroked a small green reptilian statue which stood on a table beside him. A statue that was identical to its twin which now sat behind a bar in Wessex. “Quantum entanglement, what influences one, etc. etc. You really must stop living in the 18th century Lucius and read the latest scientific research. It clarifies how so much of the mystical arts work without having any idea they even exist.
So, we now need to ask our agent in the Library to ensure that Akira is exposed to and learns even more powerful transference magic so that he becomes even more powerful. If he succeeds you will get your continued immortality and I, I will have both the Fisher King AND the Chalice du Sang-Gréal. See how partnerships work? Together we both gain and together we become even more powerful. I’ll be in touch once I hear back from our agent, in the meantime…” The image in the crystal mirror misted over and faded, leaving only a jackal-like shadow on the mirror’s surface.
The old man smiled a smile that seemed to expose two rows of very sharp incisors as his mouth widened across his whole face and as his skin took on a green tinge and a slightly scaled appearance. He stood up and walked to the half-naked, middle-aged but remarkably fit Italian-looking man chained to a large metallic X behind him. The gagged prisoner writhed as, with a single elongated fingernail, the unblinking man sensuously sliced it across the captives’ heavily scarred chest, drawing blood which he then licked away with a long forked tongue before he then began to carve an ominous-looking glyph across the man’s bare chest with the same extended claw.
Interlude 2:
In a darkened windowless chamber filled to the roof with ancient books, sixty-plus miles away from Akira, a pretty dark-haired woman in her 20’s sat smoking as she looked at an ancient tome covered in flayed human skin which she had been reading and which now currently sat on a small table. Her eyes narrowed as the open page suddenly burst into flames and curled into ash. That did not bode well she thought as she picked up the smouldering book and saw the ominous burn pattern the mystical flames had left embellished on the page below. She stubbed out her cigarette and wondered to herself how long did they have and how best to deal with it?
Superhero Adventures, UK Style 