Post by Non Compos Mentis on Oct 30, 2015 18:43:41 GMT -5
Customs at Leonardo Da Vinci Airport didn't seem impressed by the black eye and healing wound I sported as I entered Italy for the very first time. The parting gift from Justin Kaard, rather than my general tardy appearance I was sure, had led to an uncomfortable search of my meagre belongings by the security staff and a swift, if unceremonious, ruling that I was safe to enter the country. And so, I made my way east to the Adriatic Coast and Chieti.
The Order could have been on my back the entire way but I never caught a whiff of their scent. My rented continental hatchback slipped into the background and I moved with barely a second glance unless I removed myself from the safety of the car. A couple of hours in front of a book of useful Italian phrases did nothing to protect me from the obvious; I was as foreign there as it was possible to be. I avoided human contact if I possibly could, but finding myself alone in an alien land meant I had to reach out occasionally; food, gas and directions being the chief offenders of my isolation.
Italy was not how I expected it to be. I expected countless rural villages with families growing grapes and olives out in the fields, romanticised architecture draped with the ancient and traditional halloween customs of the region, warm air, endless sun and beautiful, stylish women. At the last gas station before Chieti, the woman behind the till looked as tired as the day was long and the rain hadn't ceased since I'd arrived.
“Contanti o carta?” She mumbled, zombified, as her head threatened to roll off her palm and slam directly into the counter-top.
I cast my mind back to the phrase book, tried to remember what those words meant and came up with a blank. Would it have been a harsh injustice to put that down to the punch Kaard had given me moments after we'd ended up in a draw just days ago? I probably would, the kid punched like a ten year old girl. He had guts though, I could never doubt him that.
No, my memory loss wasn't due to some act of blunt trauma, it was simple ignorance. I wanted to explain that I didn't understand her but those words were gone too, replaced by meaningless jumbles of letters.
I stared blankly at the young woman, forming and dismissing words in my mind for a multitude of ridiculous reasons. Is she asking if that's all I need? Do I need anything else? Maybe she told me how much to pay, or I did something wrong. What do I say? I should ask her to repeat it. How do I do that? Gesundheit? Geschtonkenflapped... no, that's German!
“M-o-n-e-y?” Her eyes were fixed on me with a disgusted hate of ignorance as she rubbed her fingers together symbolically. Of course she didn't care if I wanted anything else, she just wanted me to pay. I handed over the Euros, a minor way to reduce any possibility of being spotted by The Order. She punched the till and deposited the money, shaking her head with complete disregard for subtlety. Walking away, I heard her mumble to herself something I certainly understood. “Stupido.”
It was strangely relaxing to be on the road, barring the occasional disappointing local, alone with my thoughts after a chaotic few days. The second controversial draw on as many shows, the confusion settling in with almost immediate effect, the fallout that few had even begun to foresee... it was all a bewildering blur. It hadn't helped that the young Kaard boy had taken it up himself to start throwing fists in the back.
With Eira being sidelined from the match and PCW big-wigs seeing fit to, finally, place Frank Foley on leave for his near-criminal incompetence, the choice had been made to turn two unresolved battles into a full on war of attrition. I didn't know if the order had come direct from The Icemann himself, but whoever was pulling the strings after Foley's dethroning had announced a best-of-five match series between the Adrenaline junkie and myself for the North American Title.
The International Title was gone now, in the hands of Michael Wryght who had stolen it thanks to the embarrassment of lawyers hired by... who'd have guessed? Frank Foley, once again. It was a hit I would have to take, a title ripped from my grip after not a single successful defence. Only once before had I felt that disgrace, in the hyper-competitive realm of the Genesis Title. Now I had to reconcile that bitterness with the possibility of a record setting fifth reign as North American champion. It wasn't easy, but it would have to do.
It was late at night that I arrived in the Abruzzo city of Chieti, the place that Eira had pointed me to in my search for knowledge. I had a name, I had a location and worryingly I had the small but potentially lethal information that Adalina Gatti of a villa south-east of Chieti was an accomplished Spellslinger of The Order.
Just a matter of minutes out of the city itself lay the house in question. It gazed up at the majestic, snowcapped Apennines from the safety of its hovel in the earth, unshaken by the city that loomed in the distance too.
I cut off the hum of the engine as I rolled up just outside visible range of the villa and proceeded on foot. The footpath leading to the front door was too obvious so I began to make my way through the shadows of the surrounding grounds. All around the darkness closed in and the constant hammering of the rain created a feeling of dread, that something was about to go deeply, horribly wrong.
Lights gleamed eerily through the darkness, like candlelit eyes of a jack-o-lantern, and guided me in to where I dreaded to go. I'd met a spellslinger before, the very one that had participated in my indoctrination into The Order, and he had easily overpowered me until I'd channelled a power I hadn't been able to find since to escape.
Closer I got to the villa and the light inside flickered with the unerring sign of movement. Somebody was home, and as I edged forward the sinking feeling hit me that they wanted me to go inside... the rear door was left ajar.
“Well? Are you going to stand out there in the rain or come inside?” An authoritative female voice called from inside, lacking the subtle but unmistakable undertone of threat that her colleagues possessed. I said nothing, instead moving closer and hugging the wall for safety and shelter. “If I wanted you dead you wouldn't have made it off the road.”
For a woman I'd been informed was an Italian native, her English was perfect and lacking in any Mediterranean lilt. Her voice was alluring, not seductively but in a welcoming sense. It could have been an intoxication from the spell-smith, but I wanted to walk in there now. I sensed no danger, only an unknown to be met.
The rustic, pale walls gave way to a softly lit interior, a room devoid of modern fixtures and heated by a huge traditional fireplace. And by it, sat in a high-backed leather arm-chair and facing the door intently, was a middle-aged woman dressed in a twilight-blue dress, holding a glass of red wine. “Adalina Gatti?” I asked tentatively.
“No, it's the grim reaper just in time for Halloween...” and she took an elegant sip of her wine, wine that looked so expensive the bottle could have been sold at auction. Her smile, sarcastic as it was, was disarmingly charming
“You're a hard woman to track down, Ms Gatti.” I moved further into the room, not threatening to sit down yet, but willing to move further into her realm. There was only a moment of hesitation, but she most certainly picked up on it as I tried to stay calm.
“Spare the formalities, you think someone ends up out here by being formal and proper? Pah!” She gestured with the wine glass to a chair across from her, wanting me to sit and relax now that I was out of the claustrophobic darkness.
I took a look around. For what? I thought it was for cameras, microphones and any other bugs around the room. Any idiot would have known that The Order was too good to make stupid mistakes like that, though. What I was really going was looking for security, exits and possible weapons to fight with if it became necessary as it had with Ryburn.
I knew Kaard would be doing exactly the same for our first match; finding the possibly exits, the right weapons to beat a more powerful opponent. He knew now, thanks to my lightly cut cheek and his intense headache, that he couldn't match me in a stand-up brawl. Now he'd need to use his speed, use his stamina and all the reckless abandon he could muster. It might work once, possibly twice... but he'd need three to be the new North American champion, and I'd make sure that was next to impossible.
I took the seat, sliding into the deep green leather far less gracefully than its quality deserved. “Is that why are you here, so far from The Order's headquarters?”
“You don't already know?” She almost seemed to shift forward with surprise, but she remained reclined. The glass, however, met her supple lips once more as if to calm her own nerves. It swapped hands then, sloshing the liquid back and forth with discomfort. “You, I'm here because of you. I was there when they brought you in...”
I felt like a glass too, or a bottle... or five. It hadn't just been Calder and Ryburn who were present for my brainwashing, there had been at least one more. She must have seen my eyes widen, then rein back as I tried to conceal my surprise. Perhaps she saw it as disbelief as she quickly expanded on her statement as if to reassure me with certain details.
“There when they turned you into one of us. There when that poor boy Ezra was lost and you shattered. There when they swept up the pieces and made you forget any of it happened.” Adalina dropped her gaze into the scarlet liquor, swirling it idly around the glass. I'd seen that look before, of the faces of those I'd taken advantage of in the not too distant past, in mine as I came to realise my follies. It was shame. “You have no idea how happy it makes me to see you here, that you weren't lost to them for good.”
“You were there? Actually there?” I questioned, and leant forward intently.
“For most of it. I was forced to watch as Calder and Ryburn manipulated you into become their tool. I tried to convince them it was not right, it wasn't in keeping with The Order's traditions, but they had their own agenda... and it turns out somebody agreed with them and got rid of their little problem.” Shame turned to pain, pain to anger. She closed her eyes as if to stop seeing the memories playing out before her eyes, but I knew all too well that those scenes thrived in the darkness.
Something didn't sit right, though. Eira had told me that Gatti was still a member of The Order, still on their payroll and ready to cast her special form of witchcraft at any moment. Yet here she was, reviling the actions of her comrades? “But you're part of The Order, don't you want what Calder wants? To bring me back into the fold and make me your weapon again?”
Her eyes slowly opened and out seeped the emerald glow of her irises. “The Order may seem very black and white to you from the outside, but you must understand there are voices within that doubt what some are willing to do in the name of 'progress'.” Adalina cracked that sarcastic, almost painful, smile once more and took another sip of wine. “Sometimes a voice becomes a little too loud and then...”
Her hand gestured to the house around her. A life far from The Order, far from any influence she may try to exert on those in power. Far from any questioning of authority about immoral acts against mortal humans. “So they exiled you?”
“Exile? This is more like purgatory. Once you're in, you can never get out. My dissent has pushed me into the wilderness, pushed me as far from them as I can get, and yet should they call I would be helpless to resist.” Her shoulders slumped into the leather in resignation of the fact The Order was too big for anybody to argue against on their own. She'd tried, and now she sat in ignominy for her decency.
“But you don't want to, do you? I can see it in your eyes, you can't stand them.” Even Eira, a servant of The Order for so long, saw so much doubt in their methods and beliefs. They believed in the preservation of humanity, and yet they sought to manipulate one of them to match their needs.
“They tortured you, contorted you until your mind was barely recognisable. We, The Order, vowed to protect humanity, and they took a gifted individual and turned him into a monster. It was a crime against our own legacy.” Adalina lifted the glass to her lips again, and to her disappointment found it empty. A sigh escaped her lungs and she placed the glass next to the bottle on a side-table and leant back as if that was the end of things.
I pushed myself to my feet and cleared the chair to get some room. I saw this woman, so vehement in her convictions that she had faced this purgatory for her actions, broken into resignation and I saw Calder and his puppets getting what they wanted eventually. It couldn't be allowed. “They're still hiding what happened, I can't remember it all and the only people I know who can help fill in the gaps are Calder and Ryburn. I can't go back to them, not while they want to do the same to me again.”
Turning to face her, I saw her eyes caught by the fire. The flames reflected in them and memories passed through her mind. I didn't need to be psychic, I knew what they were. I'd had the same visions for months; Ezra falling to his death through an inferno, consumed by death. “I know what you seek. I saw into your mind as Ryburn erased everything he could from your memories. I saw and I can make you see once again, only I cannot be sure it won't destroy you in the process.”
“Calder wanted me because he believed I was something special, something stronger than any normal human. You said it yourself, you called me a... gifted individual. If I'm anything like what you believe I am, then I can take it.” I wished for just one show of the strength I'd displayed against Calder and Ryburn, something to convince Adalina that I was the prodigy they'd been looking for. Nothing came. No immense power that I could use to best The Order, not even enough to beat Justin Kaard. I'd face him on my own again, relying on everything I'd always relied on; tenacity and toughness. It hadn't been enough recently though, and I didn't know if it would be enough in the future. “I need to know.”
“My boy, as much as Calder wants you to be his Seeker... you are not. Gifted, yes, but you are no Seeker and never will be, no matter how long Calder and his minions try to make you otherwise.” Finally she pushed herself from her chair, tiredly as if all the energy had been drained from her muscles. But perhaps it wasn't tiredness, perhaps it was strain of responsibility for what was to come. She placed her hands on my shoulders, her dress gliding behind her as an other-worldly chill swept through the room. It came from her, I didn't know how but it did. “You have something though, enough to blind them to what you really are. I hope it is enough...”
And so she showed me.
The Order could have been on my back the entire way but I never caught a whiff of their scent. My rented continental hatchback slipped into the background and I moved with barely a second glance unless I removed myself from the safety of the car. A couple of hours in front of a book of useful Italian phrases did nothing to protect me from the obvious; I was as foreign there as it was possible to be. I avoided human contact if I possibly could, but finding myself alone in an alien land meant I had to reach out occasionally; food, gas and directions being the chief offenders of my isolation.
Italy was not how I expected it to be. I expected countless rural villages with families growing grapes and olives out in the fields, romanticised architecture draped with the ancient and traditional halloween customs of the region, warm air, endless sun and beautiful, stylish women. At the last gas station before Chieti, the woman behind the till looked as tired as the day was long and the rain hadn't ceased since I'd arrived.
“Contanti o carta?” She mumbled, zombified, as her head threatened to roll off her palm and slam directly into the counter-top.
I cast my mind back to the phrase book, tried to remember what those words meant and came up with a blank. Would it have been a harsh injustice to put that down to the punch Kaard had given me moments after we'd ended up in a draw just days ago? I probably would, the kid punched like a ten year old girl. He had guts though, I could never doubt him that.
No, my memory loss wasn't due to some act of blunt trauma, it was simple ignorance. I wanted to explain that I didn't understand her but those words were gone too, replaced by meaningless jumbles of letters.
I stared blankly at the young woman, forming and dismissing words in my mind for a multitude of ridiculous reasons. Is she asking if that's all I need? Do I need anything else? Maybe she told me how much to pay, or I did something wrong. What do I say? I should ask her to repeat it. How do I do that? Gesundheit? Geschtonkenflapped... no, that's German!
“M-o-n-e-y?” Her eyes were fixed on me with a disgusted hate of ignorance as she rubbed her fingers together symbolically. Of course she didn't care if I wanted anything else, she just wanted me to pay. I handed over the Euros, a minor way to reduce any possibility of being spotted by The Order. She punched the till and deposited the money, shaking her head with complete disregard for subtlety. Walking away, I heard her mumble to herself something I certainly understood. “Stupido.”
It was strangely relaxing to be on the road, barring the occasional disappointing local, alone with my thoughts after a chaotic few days. The second controversial draw on as many shows, the confusion settling in with almost immediate effect, the fallout that few had even begun to foresee... it was all a bewildering blur. It hadn't helped that the young Kaard boy had taken it up himself to start throwing fists in the back.
With Eira being sidelined from the match and PCW big-wigs seeing fit to, finally, place Frank Foley on leave for his near-criminal incompetence, the choice had been made to turn two unresolved battles into a full on war of attrition. I didn't know if the order had come direct from The Icemann himself, but whoever was pulling the strings after Foley's dethroning had announced a best-of-five match series between the Adrenaline junkie and myself for the North American Title.
The International Title was gone now, in the hands of Michael Wryght who had stolen it thanks to the embarrassment of lawyers hired by... who'd have guessed? Frank Foley, once again. It was a hit I would have to take, a title ripped from my grip after not a single successful defence. Only once before had I felt that disgrace, in the hyper-competitive realm of the Genesis Title. Now I had to reconcile that bitterness with the possibility of a record setting fifth reign as North American champion. It wasn't easy, but it would have to do.
It was late at night that I arrived in the Abruzzo city of Chieti, the place that Eira had pointed me to in my search for knowledge. I had a name, I had a location and worryingly I had the small but potentially lethal information that Adalina Gatti of a villa south-east of Chieti was an accomplished Spellslinger of The Order.
Just a matter of minutes out of the city itself lay the house in question. It gazed up at the majestic, snowcapped Apennines from the safety of its hovel in the earth, unshaken by the city that loomed in the distance too.
I cut off the hum of the engine as I rolled up just outside visible range of the villa and proceeded on foot. The footpath leading to the front door was too obvious so I began to make my way through the shadows of the surrounding grounds. All around the darkness closed in and the constant hammering of the rain created a feeling of dread, that something was about to go deeply, horribly wrong.
Lights gleamed eerily through the darkness, like candlelit eyes of a jack-o-lantern, and guided me in to where I dreaded to go. I'd met a spellslinger before, the very one that had participated in my indoctrination into The Order, and he had easily overpowered me until I'd channelled a power I hadn't been able to find since to escape.
Closer I got to the villa and the light inside flickered with the unerring sign of movement. Somebody was home, and as I edged forward the sinking feeling hit me that they wanted me to go inside... the rear door was left ajar.
“Well? Are you going to stand out there in the rain or come inside?” An authoritative female voice called from inside, lacking the subtle but unmistakable undertone of threat that her colleagues possessed. I said nothing, instead moving closer and hugging the wall for safety and shelter. “If I wanted you dead you wouldn't have made it off the road.”
For a woman I'd been informed was an Italian native, her English was perfect and lacking in any Mediterranean lilt. Her voice was alluring, not seductively but in a welcoming sense. It could have been an intoxication from the spell-smith, but I wanted to walk in there now. I sensed no danger, only an unknown to be met.
The rustic, pale walls gave way to a softly lit interior, a room devoid of modern fixtures and heated by a huge traditional fireplace. And by it, sat in a high-backed leather arm-chair and facing the door intently, was a middle-aged woman dressed in a twilight-blue dress, holding a glass of red wine. “Adalina Gatti?” I asked tentatively.
“No, it's the grim reaper just in time for Halloween...” and she took an elegant sip of her wine, wine that looked so expensive the bottle could have been sold at auction. Her smile, sarcastic as it was, was disarmingly charming
“You're a hard woman to track down, Ms Gatti.” I moved further into the room, not threatening to sit down yet, but willing to move further into her realm. There was only a moment of hesitation, but she most certainly picked up on it as I tried to stay calm.
“Spare the formalities, you think someone ends up out here by being formal and proper? Pah!” She gestured with the wine glass to a chair across from her, wanting me to sit and relax now that I was out of the claustrophobic darkness.
I took a look around. For what? I thought it was for cameras, microphones and any other bugs around the room. Any idiot would have known that The Order was too good to make stupid mistakes like that, though. What I was really going was looking for security, exits and possible weapons to fight with if it became necessary as it had with Ryburn.
I knew Kaard would be doing exactly the same for our first match; finding the possibly exits, the right weapons to beat a more powerful opponent. He knew now, thanks to my lightly cut cheek and his intense headache, that he couldn't match me in a stand-up brawl. Now he'd need to use his speed, use his stamina and all the reckless abandon he could muster. It might work once, possibly twice... but he'd need three to be the new North American champion, and I'd make sure that was next to impossible.
I took the seat, sliding into the deep green leather far less gracefully than its quality deserved. “Is that why are you here, so far from The Order's headquarters?”
“You don't already know?” She almost seemed to shift forward with surprise, but she remained reclined. The glass, however, met her supple lips once more as if to calm her own nerves. It swapped hands then, sloshing the liquid back and forth with discomfort. “You, I'm here because of you. I was there when they brought you in...”
I felt like a glass too, or a bottle... or five. It hadn't just been Calder and Ryburn who were present for my brainwashing, there had been at least one more. She must have seen my eyes widen, then rein back as I tried to conceal my surprise. Perhaps she saw it as disbelief as she quickly expanded on her statement as if to reassure me with certain details.
“There when they turned you into one of us. There when that poor boy Ezra was lost and you shattered. There when they swept up the pieces and made you forget any of it happened.” Adalina dropped her gaze into the scarlet liquor, swirling it idly around the glass. I'd seen that look before, of the faces of those I'd taken advantage of in the not too distant past, in mine as I came to realise my follies. It was shame. “You have no idea how happy it makes me to see you here, that you weren't lost to them for good.”
“You were there? Actually there?” I questioned, and leant forward intently.
“For most of it. I was forced to watch as Calder and Ryburn manipulated you into become their tool. I tried to convince them it was not right, it wasn't in keeping with The Order's traditions, but they had their own agenda... and it turns out somebody agreed with them and got rid of their little problem.” Shame turned to pain, pain to anger. She closed her eyes as if to stop seeing the memories playing out before her eyes, but I knew all too well that those scenes thrived in the darkness.
Something didn't sit right, though. Eira had told me that Gatti was still a member of The Order, still on their payroll and ready to cast her special form of witchcraft at any moment. Yet here she was, reviling the actions of her comrades? “But you're part of The Order, don't you want what Calder wants? To bring me back into the fold and make me your weapon again?”
Her eyes slowly opened and out seeped the emerald glow of her irises. “The Order may seem very black and white to you from the outside, but you must understand there are voices within that doubt what some are willing to do in the name of 'progress'.” Adalina cracked that sarcastic, almost painful, smile once more and took another sip of wine. “Sometimes a voice becomes a little too loud and then...”
Her hand gestured to the house around her. A life far from The Order, far from any influence she may try to exert on those in power. Far from any questioning of authority about immoral acts against mortal humans. “So they exiled you?”
“Exile? This is more like purgatory. Once you're in, you can never get out. My dissent has pushed me into the wilderness, pushed me as far from them as I can get, and yet should they call I would be helpless to resist.” Her shoulders slumped into the leather in resignation of the fact The Order was too big for anybody to argue against on their own. She'd tried, and now she sat in ignominy for her decency.
“But you don't want to, do you? I can see it in your eyes, you can't stand them.” Even Eira, a servant of The Order for so long, saw so much doubt in their methods and beliefs. They believed in the preservation of humanity, and yet they sought to manipulate one of them to match their needs.
“They tortured you, contorted you until your mind was barely recognisable. We, The Order, vowed to protect humanity, and they took a gifted individual and turned him into a monster. It was a crime against our own legacy.” Adalina lifted the glass to her lips again, and to her disappointment found it empty. A sigh escaped her lungs and she placed the glass next to the bottle on a side-table and leant back as if that was the end of things.
I pushed myself to my feet and cleared the chair to get some room. I saw this woman, so vehement in her convictions that she had faced this purgatory for her actions, broken into resignation and I saw Calder and his puppets getting what they wanted eventually. It couldn't be allowed. “They're still hiding what happened, I can't remember it all and the only people I know who can help fill in the gaps are Calder and Ryburn. I can't go back to them, not while they want to do the same to me again.”
Turning to face her, I saw her eyes caught by the fire. The flames reflected in them and memories passed through her mind. I didn't need to be psychic, I knew what they were. I'd had the same visions for months; Ezra falling to his death through an inferno, consumed by death. “I know what you seek. I saw into your mind as Ryburn erased everything he could from your memories. I saw and I can make you see once again, only I cannot be sure it won't destroy you in the process.”
“Calder wanted me because he believed I was something special, something stronger than any normal human. You said it yourself, you called me a... gifted individual. If I'm anything like what you believe I am, then I can take it.” I wished for just one show of the strength I'd displayed against Calder and Ryburn, something to convince Adalina that I was the prodigy they'd been looking for. Nothing came. No immense power that I could use to best The Order, not even enough to beat Justin Kaard. I'd face him on my own again, relying on everything I'd always relied on; tenacity and toughness. It hadn't been enough recently though, and I didn't know if it would be enough in the future. “I need to know.”
“My boy, as much as Calder wants you to be his Seeker... you are not. Gifted, yes, but you are no Seeker and never will be, no matter how long Calder and his minions try to make you otherwise.” Finally she pushed herself from her chair, tiredly as if all the energy had been drained from her muscles. But perhaps it wasn't tiredness, perhaps it was strain of responsibility for what was to come. She placed her hands on my shoulders, her dress gliding behind her as an other-worldly chill swept through the room. It came from her, I didn't know how but it did. “You have something though, enough to blind them to what you really are. I hope it is enough...”
And so she showed me.
