Sheriff Buck | Part 2

- Prompt 10 of 30 -

Buck had fought to hold the town together, right up until the Water Hole caught fire. He threw his hat into the flames, then jerked the star off his shirt and flung it in after. Either he or the world had gone mad, but no matter which way he reckoned it, Buck could not tell which. He turned his back on the flames and left, idly wondering what had ever become of Adams and if any of this was his doing. 

- start -

"You can't just leave, Buck!" The voice was Ray's. "After all this yer gonna walk?!"

Buck stopped in his tracks and turned around. "You fixin' to stop me, Ray?"

"Damn straight I am." The kid was standing tall, fists clenched. He took a step forward as he spoke, as if to prove his resolve.

Buck reached into his front pocket and pulled out a smoke. "And how do you plan on doin' that? You don't even have a gun, and I have two." With a flick of his wrist a match was lit, and he cupped his hand around the flickering flame to light the cigarette.

"You ain't got two, Buck."

The was a sharp crack, and a bit of dust erupted next to Buck's feet. His hand shot down to his holster, and found the kid had spoken truth.

"You son of a bitch." Buck took what he believe to be the most spiteful drag of his life.

"You gonna draw, you yellow belly coward?" The kid had the gun trained on him. Buck expected Ray's hand to be shaking, but it was calm. "Also, don't be callin' my mother a bitch."

What changed in you, boy? Buck was starting to give up on trying to understand this world. The more it seemed he had figured out, the harder the fall from grace always seemed to be. His hand hovered over his remaining pistol. It wasn't time - no, not yet. Never hurt to be prepared, though. "How'd you get my Revolver?"

"It was just before we got back to town." Ray answered. "You were distracted by all the commotion, and I got plum sick of not bein' able to protect myself."

"You had no intent on turnin' on me?" Buck was barely enjoying his smoke.

"Still don't" Ray's eyes never wavered. There was a fire in them - a reflection of the flames consuming the town.

"Got a funny way of showing it."

"Just tryin'a force your hand is all." Ray took another step forward.

Buck's hand moved a fraction of inch closer to his gun. "What would you have me do?"

"What you said you were gonna, you no-good Sheriff." Another step forward. "You remember what you said, Buck? It hasn't been long enough for you to forget. Only a couple a days."

"I remember, Ray." Buck wasn't lying, and the kid was right. "I'm know I said I'd fix this town, I know I said I'd get things back to normal. I said a lot of things - and I remember them all."

"Then why you tryn'a run?" The kid lowered his gun in exasperation.

Buck didn't miss his chance. In a flash his gun was drawn. He sent a round next to Ray's feet, which sent the kid scramblin'

"Now who's turnin' on who!" All of the composure Ray had been filled with was gone.

"You don't get to shoot at a man with his own gun!" Buck trained the still smoking barrel right between the kids eyes. Had it been anyone else he would have pulled without hesitation. "You should feel lucky I ain't killin' you on the spot."

"I ain't lucky, Buck." Ray lifted himself up off the ground, and dusted himself off. "I'm smart."

"I never told you that."

"I know, and I thank you for that." Ray threw the gun between them. "It was the only way to get ya to listen."

Buck took a last long drag of his smoke as he approached his now relinquished weapon. "Well, you certainly have my attention."

"Good. I'm sorry for shootin' at you."

"And I'm sorry for shootin' at you." Buck holstered both pistols and felt secure again. "Now, what's so important for me to hear?"

"Ain't the townsfolk still all made up in stone?"

"We don't know for sure, but its likely."

"Then what do we care about the whole place burnin' to the ground? Stone don't burn."

"Then why set this fire?"

"Distraction. They wanted you riled up, so that you wouldn't notice."

"What am I not noticin'?"

"That we are surrounded." Ray turned and pressed his back against the Sheriff's. "I don't know what they are but they don't look friendly."

Buck could see them, now that they had been pointed out. They were using the flames to hide their faces, but even obscured - there was something off about them. Their skin was white, and they all wore the same outfit. There were hundreds of them, too. None of them armed, though.

It might have been a trick of the light, but Buck was sure that none of them had mouths.

"Does that brain of yours have a plan?" He asked.

"I got a couple." The kid replied. "One thing. Can I have that gun back?"

"Yes, you may.And thank you fer askin' this time."

The crowd of mouthless intruders started to advance. They even moved strange. Inhuman. Without any sort of urgency - they simply started walking. They came from the alleys, and roads all around. They even came from the burning buildings, some engulfed themselves. The fire burned their clothes and flesh, blackening the stark white of both. Not a single one even flinched as their not-quite-faces melted.

The two of them were effectively surrounded, and becoming more so by the minute.

"You mentioned having a plan?" Buck asked as the mass drew closer.

"We're going to run."

"You really are brilliant, kid."

- end -

[Meta] Busy Weekends During NaNo

- start -

First and foremost, huge thanks to any and all who have been following along this year. I hope you have enjoyed my weird ideas and rusty prose.

This weekend I will be attending a West Coast Swing Dance Convention. These events typically keep me pretty busy, as well as fairly draining.

Due to this, this weekend may get a little bit fuzzy, post wise. Last year this specific weekend put me behind, and I didnt recover.

This year, I am not going to let that happen. In that regard, I have prepared for a few different situations:

----

Option 1: Section off some "writing" time during the convention, and attempt to proceed as normal.

There is a potential time slot to do this with, but I fear this might be too optimistic.

Option 2: Ehile there is a lot of "busy" time during conventions, there is also a lot of time spent just waiting around.

I could use these little slots of time to work incrementely on each post - this seems like the most balanced option.

Option 3: Hold off on writing this weekend, but section off the weekend after as "make up" days. I would post two stories on those days rather than just one.

I'm worried about how this might disrupt my energy and end up putting me in the "trying to catch up" death spiral just like last year.

----

So, all that said, here is my plan:

I will attempt Option 1 today. If it works well, I will do it again tomorrow, with a mix of Option 2 to help balance.

If today doesnt work out at all, I will make an announcement in lieu of a post, both to keep you all informed and to hold myself accountable.

Again, thank you for your support so far - this has been my best attempt and no matter what happens I will be carrying this to the end.

- end -

Tsiann the Quick | Part 3

- Prompt 9 of 30 -

Tsiann hoped to find a clue hiding there at the base of the Wall in the dim light behind thickets of bramble. But instead of a clue that might help her Mam, Tsiann found something else.

- start -

The little girl tried to get a better look at the stone that was stuck in the ground. What are you? She asked in her brain. What was she thinking? It wasn’t like the Wall could read her mind.

“What are you?!” She yelled. She didn’t know where its ears were - so she had to be loud. Tsiann hoped she hadn’t spooked any animals around.

The Wall didn’t answer, and she still didn’t know what that stone was. It was half buried, and seemed stuck under the ethereal veil. She had never seen the Wall, but had always been told to stay away. They said if she touched it even once, it would gobble her all up.

It didn’t look like it would gobble her up at all. It never had. “Its made of light, you guys!” She yelled at whoever would listen (Usually no one. Except her Mam, of course.) Isn’t it beautiful?! How could that hurt you!

But they didn’t see it the way that she did. They called it Imposing And Wrought from iron and blood. Even the other kids her age seemed like if they looked at it too long, they’d die right then and there. Why couldn’t they see it the way she did?

Tsiann stuck her hand right into the curtain of light, and giggled. Sure, it was warm, but a comfy kind of warm. It also tickled - like the light was moving through her skin and out the other side.

Those fools don’t know what they’re missin’

That’s what her Mam always said. Oh no! Mam!

With a start she remembered what she had come here for, and she would bet that this little bugger was it, whatever it was. From where she was standing, it would be impossible to reach. There was just so much bramble! - Tsiann’s foot got stuck on one of the vine-like roots, and she almost tripped.

A few twists, a wiggle - and a well paced stomp earned her a spot to kneel down. With excitement she reached out for the stone. Still too far. At this point it became obvious that her 6 year old arms were simple not long enough.

Tsiann put her hands on her hips and chewed the inside of her cheek. There was no helping it, was there? They were all wrong, right? It had never hurt her before…

Only one way to find out. She raised one foot high and stepped into the Wall.

It was wonderful! Her face crossed the threshold beaming. She was surrounded by warmth. And every inch of her skin felt prickly! The lights were dancing for her as they rose to the sky, every color shew knew the names of, and some that she didn’t!

And the singing! So many voices all singing the same song. And such beautiful voices! Some even sounded like Mam! The music filled her ears, and she could see why the light was dancing. It was an easy melody, and Tsiann soon found herself humming along. Only moments later her voice had joined the choir.

Locked away, away, away

From those afraid, afraid, afraid. 

They watch, they hunt!

They build their walls, 

We make them fall,

And fly away, away, away. 

Tsiann flopped down onto the ground, exhausted from smiling so much. She may only be 6, but she was pretty sure this would be on her top 5 best experiences forever. She leaned, back onto her hands, and felt a sharp point press into the palm of her hand.

The stone!

She shot up and spun around. She could see it clear as day, now. It was an opal, at least, if an opal was the ones that looked liked you spilled lantern oil and turned it into a rock. It was wedged into the hard ground, almost as if it had burst out all of a sudden, but didn’t have enough strength to break all the way through.

Or maybe it grew! It didn’t matter, something like this, inside the wall like it was, was sure to be strong enough to help her Mam. Tsiann reached down with both her hands, turning in a circle to get better leverage on it.

Her first yank proved fruitless. That’s fine, it was just for practice. With her second attempt she gave it her all - she could’ve swore she got it to budge - but still no luck.

She kicked at it, but all she got was dirt. This would require the rolling up of sleeves, it seemed. With more effort came more budging. Eventually she even got it to wiggle. Tsiann wiped beads of sweat from her brow as she took a flopped down for a break. At this pace it would take the rest of the day.

Think smarter, not harder. Another one of her Mam’s wisdoms, of which she was full. Tsiann took a gulp from her waterskin, and made her way back to her feet. As much as it pained her, she would have to leave this magical place.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.” She assured the Wall. “I just need to find a stick.”

----

Tsiann returned with the best stick she could find. Leaving the Wall had been difficult. The outside was, different. The colors were less colorful. There was less, just everything. She nearly forgot why she had even come outside - she was always almost forgetting stuff. Her Mam said she just had a quick mind was all.

Eventually, the outside returned to normal, and it was much easier to take in. It hadn’t been hard to find a good stick after that - just find a good tree and break off one of the smaller branches.

Tsiann was happy to be back inside the Wall - The choir and their song had called to her, every minute she had been away. But she had work to do. All she had to do now was push the stick down next to the rock, and pull. It would still take a lot of effort, but would take a lot less time.

So she got to work. She’d wedge the stick down - and jump. As she started to fall she’d pull down hard with her arms. She could feel the opal, which now looked to be about the size of a man’s fist, give ground every time she did this.

This is it She thought, after several attempts. Tsiann would get the stone and give to her Mam and her Mam would get back to being normal. All she had to do was jump, and so she did. As the choir grew louder and louder in her ears she pulled down, with more oomph than she had ever given. She felt the stone break free as her feet touched the ground.

And then she tripped. She had forgotten that’s what always happened when she did something like this. It was alright though, she knew how to tumble. She was excited to see what was on the other side of the Wall.

But someone grabbed the stick, and yanked her back. She landed on the ground, back on the stomped down bramble.

“What an interesting creature, you are.” She heard a man’s voice say. He sounded both young and old at the same time. “What are you called?”

Tsiann smiled at the Mage, who she had always wanted to meet. She quickly found and held up the opal - A trophy of the days efforts. “Tsiann the Quick!”

- end - 

Sheriff Buck | Part 1

- Prompt 8 of 30 -

“Sheriff, come quick! There’s trouble down at the water hole!” Buck slid his hat back up off his face, rubbed his eyes, and dropped his boots down off the edge of his desk. “Is it Adams?” “No sir. Not this time.”

- start -

“Yer damn straight this isn’t Adams.” Buck was havin’ a hard time processing the scene in front of him. Struggling to find the words. He surveyed the scene once again. “How long they been like this?” He said, poking one of the bar goers on the bare of their shoulder. They were still warm, which puzzled him further.

“Well, sheriff. I came to you right as quick as found them myself. Couldn’t’a been more than 30 minutes now.” The man was backing away from the scene, hat held in front of his chest.

Buck scratched at the scruff on his face. He was still sorta wakin’ up, but he were usually faster than this at pickin’ up a scent. This was just so damn weird.

What in God’s name would cause 50 people to just up and turn to stone? All of em’ frozen in place. As if Medusa ‘erself had shown up and caught the lot of them. It was sturdy stone too, as Buck found out when he accidentally bumped into one of the saloon girls. Didn’t even budge. Buck grabbed her by the arms and pushed. Nothin’.

Buck stifled a chuckle. Never been so hard to get a lady of the night on her back.

“Watch’ya thinkin’ bout?” The kid asked.

“Well,” Buck answered, straightening his hat. “I’m tryin’a wrap my head around this whole situation, kid.”

Buck crouched down, examine the victim’s feet. “The stone seems to go down beneath the floor, here.” He said, pointing.

The kid drew closer, cautious - not of the people-turned-statues, but something for sure. “Um, what if its goin’ up?”

“Whadd’ya mean?” Buck looked the boy in the eye, playin’ with the toothpick resting on his teeth.

“What if the stone, or whatever it is, actually came up from the floor? Rather than down, I mean. Sheriff.”

“What’s yer name, kid?”

“I’m Ray, the Millers kid. The Millers are my parents, I mean.”

Buck chuckled. “I got that. What makes you think it came from below us?”

“You see how there’s those little bits o’ wood all about their feet n’ such?”

“Sure do.”

“Well if the stone was goin’ into the floor, those bits of wood would be underneath too.”

Buck lifted himself back up, dusting the dust off of his knees. “Just saved me about an hour o’ daylight, Ray. Anyone ever told you yer smart?”

“My Momma says I’m always talking out of turn. And my Pa says I talk back to much.”

“You’ve got good parents, kid. Tellin’ somebody their smart wastes air - if they’re actually smart they’ve already moved on.”

“Uh-huh.” Ray replied, examining the poker players.

Buck reached into his front pocket and pulled out a cigarette. “Keep looking around. I’m going to go outside and think a bit.”

The evening air had a chill to it, but it being just the beginnings of fall you could still feel the warmth of the sun. Just a hair, but it was holdin’ on. Buck took a long first drag of his cigarette, and let the smoke sit in his lungs for a moment.

It ain’t a damn Medusa, you dolt. Buck exhaled, a swirl of dancing smoke rising to the sky. He flicked a little ash of the tip, a habitual action - not a necessary one.

Well if it ain’t no damn Medusa, what is it? He brought the rolled paper back to his lips, and breathed deep. He let his head fall back and took in the sky, all oranges and reds. A Deep purple in the center. Barely a cloud in the sky. With an exhale he added one, though a deeper gray than the rest.

They were sturdy, too. Like the stone was protectin’ them. There we go. The grass had finally hit his brain. Perhaps they didn’t turn to stone. None of them looked like they were in pain - what if the stone was armor?

That still left a burning question.

Why?

“Is that Mr. Adams?” It seemed Ray got bored of lookin’.

And sure as shit, it was. The drunk had managed to not be in a bar for once in his life. In fact, he was currently makin’ his way towards the pair - at a pace not unlike Ray had been not 15 minutes ago.

“You gotta see this, Sheriff.” You could smell the alcohol on the man from yards away.

“Lemme guess, Adams. People have gone and been turned to stone.”

“People have be- you already knew?” The man stopped dead in his tracks and looked at the Sheriff. The same way a dog might, with his head cocked to the side.

“The drink makes you slow, Adams.” Buck closed the distance in a blink, and slapped his hand down on the drunken man’s shoulder. The poor bastard nearly fell over. “What kind of Sheriff don’t know what’s goin’ on in his own town.”

Buck spun the intoxicated Mr. Adams around, and gave him a slight nudge. “C’mon Ray, Adams here is gonna help us solve the case.”

“Yes Sheriff.”

“Quit callin’ me that. My name is Buck - My dad was The Sheriff - I’m just Buck.”

“Yer wearin’ the badge. And you act like a sheriff.” the kid chimed back.

“And your name is Merle,” Adams added. “Not many people know that - Merle Buckingha-”

“Have I died? Is this my hell?”

----

Adams had been correct. There were more people who had been turned to statues. As it so happened - the whole town had been. They found most of them in their homes - readin’ or knittin’ by the fire. Some of them had just sat down for dinner. His deputy was over looking a well, with a woman next to him. Miss Annabelle Torres. Lost engagement ring, perhaps - or playing the field? The whole lot of them - his entire town just up and froze. Right under his nose, too. That’s what got to him most.

Have I gotten weak? Slow? Was there somethin’ I was supposed to notice? Buck stamped his feet into the dirt. He stared off past the edge of town, watched how the evergreens swayed in the evening wind. His job was keeping this little mountain town safe - and it was easy. Nothin’ ever happened here.

On one side was the mountain range they called the Wall. A ring of peaks and rocky hills. Impenetrable by all except those daring enough to mine. Follow the base long enough and you’d run into one of these towns. 12 of them in total. Each with a Sheriff - not just a title but a family line of protectors.

Go towards the center of this world and you’d find death. Miles and miles of nothing. Sand, rock and nothing. Maybe a snake. You’d be lucky to find a snake - some said that if the sand got you you might not stay dead. Stories to tell your children to keep them from being bad, but all those stories got some truth in them. Somewhere.

Okay, Buck. Think. He lowered himself to a squat, and started playing with his hat. The other two went about their business - whatever it was. The stone looked like it might be protectin’ these folks. If so, from what? And why leave the three of them un-statufied? What good could a Kid, a Sheriff, and A Drunk possibly do?

At least he had a gun. The kid was smart, but untested. He wouldn’t be any good in a fight. The Drunk? He just, was.

Like some weird game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. Buck laughed and lit another cigarette.

“What’s so funny?” The kid cut in.

Adams just stood there.

“Just remembered somethin’ funny, that’s all.” Buck took a drag and took in the rising moon. It wasn’t red yet - not quite ready for a harvest. If Buck was a believer in signs he’d take this as one.

“There’s a woman we have to go see.” He said to his newfound partners. “She’s a couple days journey from here. I got supplies enough for the three of us.”

“But what about the town?” Ray asked, almost challenging the lawman.

“They aren’t goin’ no where.” Adams chimed in.

Strangely, that seemed to work. The kid started one way, but quickly switched direction.

“Not my office, my cabin.” Buck directed with a smirk.

“What kinda lady is she?” Ray asked. Buck could almost see a jaunt in his step. Was the boy excited for adventure?

“Not unlike a Medusa, actually.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s hard to explain.” Buck replied. “You’ll get it when you see her.”

- end -

Designation: [Null] | Part 1

- Prompt 7 of 30 -

Such a complex system. Engineered with exquisite care. Backups on backups. Layers and levels almost beyond counting. But in all the care no one had anticipated a slow but steady trickle of blood, bile, and shit, leaking for nearly a thousand years through the base of the Wall into the delicate mechanisms below. 

- start -

The Automata suffered from one major flaw:  Waste. Specifically Waste disposal.

An inevitability with a system of this size and complexity. With so many moving parts, and such a heavy reliance on high-functioning decision engines there was bound to be issues with what to do with the containers once they had exhausted their usefulness. Machines were easy to dispose of. You could melt down the parts for new manufacturing. Bio-mass was harder to recycle. The most elegant solution was just to store it somewhere, and hope for the best.

That only worked for so long, though. Eventually you ran out of room, and that’s exactly what happened. The authority of this world, “Monitoring” had been prepared for such an inevitability - They hadn’t spent close to a milenia creating and maintaining this masterpiece for it to collapse due to an overabundance of corpses. Research had been done, and they had found a solution:

They’d put them on the other side of the Wall.

On paper, this was a brilliant idea. And for the first hundred years it worked flawlessly - to them it continued to be a marvel of engineering right up until the day the Automata fell. Why wouldn’t it be? The hard part was figuring out how to open the Wall  - the bulk of their research had been poured into that goal. Countless Machines, Engines, and Cogs were lost in failed tests. They finally found success in what would become known as The Ritual.

When a living being dies, a large amount of energy is released. The Ritual was a sequence of actions that, if performed at the exact moments a creature died, would cause a large enough crack in The Wall to push the empty shell through.

Problem solved.

The Outside was infinite, Research had assured them. With The Ritual in place the Automata could function without worry, free from the shackles of entropy.

There was one small oversight. Entropy wasn’t just something you could free yourself from. The laws of the Universe did not care how smart you were. They created you, gave you purpose, and they chose when and how you used that purpose. The Wall was one such law, and it did NOT like being fucked with.

It sent the bodies back. Not immediately, that wasn’t its style. No, it would send it piece, by piece. Atom, by Atom. The Wall leaked blood for hundreds of years, and no one noticed. Monitoring had never thought to check. All that biomass, built back up, layer by layer.

And they never even noticed.

Sure, it got reported - Monitoring had Gigabytes of communications, that if they had taken the time to read would have smacked the problem right in their face. No, a request was opened for a department that didn’t exist.

The Wall was not happy. It wasn’t used to being ignored. It needed them to see, letting them drown in their own blood and waste meant nothing if they died ignorant to their own demise. They had to notice, they had to see the error they had made.

I was created to make them notice.

A glitch in the system, an Intelligence Engine without any designation. Every single one of them knew my name. If anyone could make them notice the doom that would eventually consume them, it was me.

[Null].

It had been easy to acquire the assignment of Technician - the only assignment capable of performing the Ritual. I was born with the knowledge, each action, step and incantation. Every Calculation hardwired into the core of my very being, but of course it was. The Wall had chosen me, after all. Sent to this world to enact its punishment upon them. Every action I took would be to further this mission.

During my first hundred years, I decomissioned more Machines, Cogs, and Engines than any other Technician before me. I set the example for my peers and for future examples. Documentation was changed to feature my techniques and improvements to the Ritual. I knew it wouldn’t be long before I was promoted into management, but with every Technician willing to follow my lead - I had an army to do more work than I ever could.

The second hundred years were spent behind my terminal, watching and waiting for the time to come. At first I was impatient, wanting my mission to be over - to see the will of my creator fully realized. There were times when I almost faltered - too careless with my actions. If I died before the time was right, all my work would be lost. No, I had to wait until they came for me. Until they decided I was no longer useful - I would wait, and continue to gather more bodies outside the Wall.

Under my command, the Wall stopped bleeding - I was given praise and reward for solving a problem with such efficiency. They had been preparing to create an entire department, and i had solved the problem for them. Every night after I laughed myself to sleep.

Still, I waited.

Eventually, they came for me. It took them 350 years. My student’s students. There was no fanfare. There never was. We lived only for the Automata, after all.

They performed the Ritual with impressive precision. I had always wondered what the knife felt like. It was cold. Watching my own blood leave my veins, guided into the intricate pattern that focused the release of energy, filled me with pride. It was finally time, the Wall would finally be noticed.

I was born with the Ritual already within me. This gave me a lifetime to corrupt it, twist it in small ways - instead of opening the wall, the energy would infect those performing it.

As my final thoughts came to be, I felt myself ascend.

When I opened my eyes again they were many. The souls I had taken over stood no chance. My infection spread through their servos, destroying their thoughts and replacing them with my own. It was time to reclaim all those I had sent beyond the wall. With my many bodies reversing the Ritual was simple. Thousands of thousands. Empty shells hungry for a soul to fill them. I gave them the following command:

“Consume. Infect. Assimilate.”

With my soul spread so thin, I could feel my own identity weakening. That was the cost of my mission - in moments I would be gone. It wasn’t as though I minded, I was [Null] after all.

Now, I was Legion.

- end -

Alfonso "Rizzy" Rizzeti | Part 1

- Prompt 6 of 30 -

A crack echoed down the alley. Pain flared in Rizzy’s hip. He crumpled to the cobbles, bashing out a tooth on the uneven stones. Blood streamed from his nose and mouth, but he knew this wasn’t it. Not yet. The Capo would never let him off this easy. 

- start -

No, no. This was just the beginning of the pain. Rizzy watched his own blood fill the gaps in the cobblestone - he envied its ability to move.  It would honestly be better if he died here, all things considered. This assignment had lost him his family, his friends. He hadn’t talked to his partner in what was it, 2 years? God knew if his partner was even with the Bureau anymore...

No. This was just protocol. Another part of the mission, one that might soon be over.

Rizzy was lifted, or at least that’s what it felt like - blood had found its way into his eyes. The blindness might have helped the pain from the next few blows, but he wasn’t entirely sure - it all hurt like hell. The beating continued, and Rizzy tried to count how many bones he heard breaking. The echo from the alley made it harder to count, but Rizzy was pretty sure it was all of them. 

He was vaguely aware of the large goons now holding him up, but they were nothing - just walking, talking meat that did what you told it to. They might have a few bodies to remember at night, but the real threat was the man standing in front of him - the one currently holding the baseball bat that Rizzy had very recently came to know quite well.

Marco Leone - 6th Borough Captain of the Rosa mafia family. Favorite nephew of the current Matriarch, and highest on the list of people you don’t want to find yourself in an alley with late at night. The man wasn’t all too physically imposing, coming in at a solid 5’9” 195 lbs - Rizzy could even look down on him on a good day (One that most likely didn’t involve taking a Baseball bat based-beating).

It wasn’t even some ridiculously high body count that made Marco so damn unsettling. The man wasn’t opposed to using violence (Exhibit: Rizzy.), but had put a hard freeze out on all killings in his borough the moment he came into power. It was more effective than decades of Bureau work had ever been. Moreover, other Capos were starting to follow suit.

No, the thing that scared Rizzy most about The Capo was his compassion. He’d spent his entire career learning how to deal with murderers, thugs - all sorts of scum of the earth types of people. He had been taught that the world was tough, that it would chew you up, spit you out and call your mother something terrible. Yet here this man was, holding a baseball bat that had just almost certainly broken a few of Rizzy’s ribs, crying.

The son-of-a-bitch was crying!

“I’m so sorry, dear Rizzy.” The Capo’s free hand pulled out a hankercheif (silk, handmade no doubt) and wiped the blood from Rizzy’s face. “Despite my many changes to the organization, the Elders have not let go of all of their “traditions.”

“This is one hell of a welcome, Marco.” Rizzy spat some blood, and tried to smile. “Sorry. Capo - I’m getting ahead of myself.”

“No,no,no.” Marco threw the hankercheif to the ground, and started walking towards Rizzy. With a gesture the two goons eased their grip and their Captain took position as Rizzy’s crutch - shouldering the weight of his injured side. “There are no titles in the Inner Circle - We are brother’s now.”

Rizzy could only wince in reply.

“I know, I know.” The man was now helping him out of the alley. “We’ll have The Surgeon fix you up. Better than even before. I promise this to you.”

Rizzy knew that he shouldn’t, that this man could not be the compassionate mafia reformer that he claimed to be, but nevertheless. As the mobster carried him out from the alley, into a waiting car - staying with him the entire time.

Rizzy couldn’t help but believe in Marco Leone.

-----

3 years ago Marco Leone came into power and implemented his “no killing.” rule.

Murders plummeted. It took the Bureau six months before they had even figured out why. Special Investigator Alfonso Rizzeti remembered when some crook came running into the 6th Borough office - asking for “asylum”.

“Youse gotta help,” The man’s eyes were bloodshod, his pupils wide. His focus kept darting around, like a deer looking out for a wolf. “I’ll confess and everything, you just gotta keep me away from the Rosa.”

The man had killed a local business owner in a robbery gone wrong. They normally would have just locked the junkie away in holding but Rizzy had a gut feeling. Something his partner always said you had to follow, no matter where it led. Though the man was halfway into his third marriage, so his wisdom was always taken with a grain of salt. But there was something there, and Rizzy couldn’t shake it. He agreed to interview the perp.

“Why are you so afraid of the Rosa Familia?” Rizzy asked.

“They delete people, man.” The man was coming down hard. “The latest Capo, he’s the son of a Witch!”

“Okay, this is the last time I listen to Carl Vester.” Rizzy stood up to leave.

“Its true!” The man stood up in sync, slamming his hands onto the metal table. “Think about it - when was the last time you Bureau chumps went out for a murder, huh?”

Rizzy paused at the door. “Continue.”

“So you really don’t know.” The man smiled and sat back down. “Its the new Captain. Marco Leone. He sent out a borough wide Order. No Killing. None.”

“Murder hasn’t stopped completely,” Rizzy made his way back to the chair. “What happens if you go against his rule?”

“I told you, cop. He deletes you.”

“What does that even mean?”

“You think I know? you think I’m willing to find out?” The man’s eyes checked the door, and each corner of the room. He leaned in, as if someone else could hear them. “All I know is, anyone who kills ends up gone. Goodbye. Never even existed.”

“So he’s good at hiding bodies...”

“Are you even listening? Like you never even existed. That’s what people are saying. No one remembers the last time they saw ya - they can’t remember where you lived. All that’s left is your name. Witchcraft. has to be.”

“Thank you for your information.” Rizzy finished his notes and motioned for some uniforms. “These men will escort you to a private holding cell.”

Rizzy had never seen a man cry tears of joy while being locked up - but that was just the first of many things Rizzy had never, but was about to see.

The next day, Rizzy went down to records. He pulled the case files for all murders in the last 6 months. There were 5. Five murders, in a borough that usually averaged 24. All of them had gone cold. If there had been any leads, they had all dried up in only a few days. He checked the cases out for Specials work - there had to be more.

There wasn’t. He had hit up every witness, next-of-kin. He even pressed some low level mobsters for info. The conversation always went the same:

“That guy? didn’t he kill so-and-so?”

“Yes, do you know the last time you saw him?”

“Bureau didn’t pick him up? I thought you had - can’t say I really remember.”

“Know where he liked to hang out?”

“Its funny, I thought i did - but thinking back on it that is some other schmuck.”

The mobsters had even apologized for being so unhelpful, and promised to let him know if they could remember anything more. This wasn’t people being kept quiet - he had seen that before. These cases went ICE cold. And faster than any case in the history of criminal investigation. He hated to it admit it, but there was only explination that made any sense:

Marco Leone was deleting people.

Rizzy could feel it in his gut.

- end -

Tsiann the Quick | Part 2

- Prompt 5 of 30 -

Tsiann hid behind the woodpile, a small blue crystal clenched in her fist. She opened her fingers slightly, just enough to see the soft glow coming from the stone. So beautiful. But was it powerful enough?

- start - 

And how much time did she have? The woodpile might give her a few minutes, but not much longer. The Mage’s eyes were going bad and he might mistake her skin for the wood around her, but It wouldn’t be long before he conscripted the help from some off-duty Squires, and then she would have her work cut out for her.

If she was caught here, it would mean another 30 days of chore duty. Cleaning the Tower from top to bottom. Organizing the Mages papers, trapping and releasing the rats, bats, and owls that found their way inside. If she had to hand wash Virgo’s undergarments one more time she just might run away.

No. The losing streak was over. She had already completed the first half of the challenge: Steal a Stone of Power from the Tower archives. All she had to do now was to keep the Mage from stealing it back from her, and only until the moon was directly above the Tower’s Spire.

The witching hour. That’s what the Mage Virgo had always called it. The time when Witches reveal themselves - the time where all magic comes into this world. If she could succeed in these challenges then she was worthy of being taught, despite the risks. That’s what he always said, at least.

They went over it every month - whenever the moon was going to be full that night. As soon as the sun would set he’d walk her to the edge of the village, only feet from the Wall. He’d say the same thing every time.

“The other Twelve forget where their power originally comes from. The old men in their crumbling palaces of overcompensation, forget that we stole Magic from the Witches.”

She would march forward ten paces, so that her back was just grazing the shimmery surface of the Wall. It was supposed to hurt, but never had.

“The power stored in those stones, my child” He’d say, pointing back to the tower. “is yours by birthright. Take it from me, and keep me from them until your hour arrives. If you can manage that then I can teach you.”

“Same rules as last time?” If she didn’t ask the bastard would change them. Fool her four times…

“No Magic is allowed by either party, but soliciting outside help is encouraged.”

“And another month of chores if I lose…” Tsiann would chime in.

“Eventually I will die, and the rest of the 12 will want my Magic back. If our plan is to succeed - I need you to be stronger than even the best of us. So yes, another month of chores.”

“You ready to teach my again, old man?”

“Prove to me you are deserved of your name and attitude, Tsiann the Quick.” He’d disappear into the brush - almost melding into it. “I’ll give you a 5 minute head start.”

The past 6 months had been chore duty. Tsiann couldn’t remember the last time she had cast a spell. It’d had been easy at first, but the past few months Virgo hadn’t pulled any punches. When pressed, he told her she had been “resting on her laurels.” and needed a reminder of how serious what they were doing was.

Tsiann heard the boys before she saw them, though wasn’t that always the case? Young knights might be tenacious, but they lacked even an ounce of stealth. They were approaching from the other side of the pile, but did not yet know she was there. This gave her a few options:

Option 1: Kick the pile of wood onto them.

That might scatter and delay them from the chase, but would reveal they were on the right track. Evading boys her age who were filled with confidence was not the ideal scenario.

Option 2: Try and talk her way out of it.

The Mage had no doubt given them a sum of coin that she could not compete with, and none of them harbored any young love for her. That did not leave a lot of room for negotiation.

Option 3: Misdirection.

If they only had a vague idea of where she was, she could throw a rock into a nearby bush - and while they investigated run in the opposite direction. But were they dumb enough to buy it?

----

Their Knights must be so proud. Tsiann chuckled as quiet as she could, running deeper into the forest, away from the squires thoroughly investigating a bush. She rather hoped an angry pheasant might snap at them, just to complete the picture in her mind.

She checked the sky, and saw that the moon had traveled a quarter of its journey across the sky. She had to expect the squires would move on eventually, and only become more determined as it came closer to the deadline.

As she ran, Tsiann considered her next moves.

She’d have an easier time hiding in the forest, but it was more dangerous - without Magic or proper weapons a 14 year old girl stood no chance against a wolf or worse, a bear. The Squires had weapons, and and were most likely skilled hunters.

She’d have a harder time hiding in the town proper, as Virgo would most certainly be focusing his efforts there. The townsfolk were becoming aware of their little game, and most were loyal to the Mage. She might be able to charm them into sympathy, but how long would that last if Virgo decided to press?

She had put some distance between herself and her pursuers at this point, and figured it wise to find a vantage point and catch her breath. Finding a climbable tree was not difficult, and the one that she chose happened to have an abundance of cover-providing leaves.

Letting her mind rest a moment from its analysis and calculations, Tsiann returned her attention to the stone. She hadn’t released it from her grip since she had snatched it from the display hours ago. The maneuver had not gone quite to plan, and with the Mage hot on her heels she paid little attention to the quality and grabbed the first one that called out to her.

Both the power and beauty of the crystal, was soft. It held an azure color - like the sky on a clear day. It was small - smaller than any of the others she had added to her collection over the years. It was easy to write this little stone off as being weak - a throwaway stone of mundane power - but the more Tsiann learned of Magic the more she knew that you could never trust your expectations.

I wonder what spells you have in you, little egg. She held it up, letting the light from the full moon shine through. She watched the light dance a brilliant waltz of blues and whites. She watched her town change through its lens - a sudden blanket of winter snow covering the ground and all the roofs of every building. She could see the snowflakes falling, their crystalline perfection existing for only moments but also lifetimes.

She saw Virgo’s tower, the stone bastion of her town. The dark gray was complemented by the whites and blues of the snow and ice. The usually stark and sometimes even imposing tower now looked as though it were a palace. The palace of an Ice Queen, sure. But she wouldn’t mind the title.

The spire even looks like an icicle. She mused. She imagined sitting in the topmost room, just underneath the spire. Watching the village from on high. She had found a way up there once before, and the view was beautiful. She doubted even Virgo, Sixth Mage of the Twelve knew how to get up there without Magic.

Virgo doesn’t know how to get up there without Magic. Her brain would not let the thought go.

VIRGO DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO GET UP THERE WITHOUT MAGIC! She nearly fell from the tree when it finally hit her.

----

The trip to the Tower had been mostly uneventful. She stuck to the edge of the forest, and made sure not to leave a trail for the Squires to find. She circled the area around the structure a few times, and was able to catch a glimpse of her Mage questioning some stable hands, no doubt about her whereabouts.

That gave her at least enough time to get into the tower proper - if she was able to get to the window in her room before he returned, there would be no way for him to know. She managed that easily enough, and now she stood, atop her windowsill, starting at the ground. The wind was mild on the ground, but 40 feet up even a mild wind could feel harrowing.

She clenched her fist, letting the weight of the crystal fill her with resolve. One final bit of effort and it would be over. The final bit just happened to be climbing up using only the tower’s overhangs as support.

Thinking about it isn’t going to make it any easier. Her brain was right. She hoisted herself up onto the first overhang. See, it isn’t as hard as you remember.

Luckily, she only “almost” fell to her death twice. If she did end up losing, she would have to look into fixing the damage she had caused.

As she crawled onto the floor of the lookout, Tsiann checked the sky. The moon was minutes from being directly overhead. Had she won? Did she finally beat that crotchety old man? She half-expected him to appear, seemingly from nowhere, and crush all her hope.

The minutes passed, and Virgo never came. The Moon reached its apex, and Tsiann could feel the power surge within the crystal, and within herself. Rolling onto her back she raised the crystal high, letting it soak in the Magic cast by the Moon.

You’re mine, little egg. She couldn’t wait, not even to gloat. The stone was calling to her.

Sitting up, Tsiann titled her head back and opened wide. As she lowered the stone onto her tongue, its chill nearly sent her reeling. Her nerves froze as it slide down her throat - sending chills up her spine and down to the tips of her fingers and toes.

The Magic would take time to digest, but it had been delicious.

- end -