Thirty-Six Standard Hours After Operation Codename Stormbringer Began
“I am going to ask you, one…more…time. Where did they go?” The man demanded in a low growl through gritted teeth. He focused his mind on the shirtless man with tattered pants and small circular scars near the veins just above his forearm. A breeze whipped around his dark cape moodily, and the gold trim on it brilliantly reflected the lights high above. He donned matching midnight black uniform, with the same gold trim on the cuffs and Galactic Imperium insignia stitched on his left breast.
He clenched his fist tighter, his knuckles cracking and the midnight leather glove strained from the pressure. The swirling black Aether tendrils snaking from his fist gripped the man’s throat as he clawed at them to no avail. He gasped for air as they increased their stranglehold on his veiny jugular, squeezing what little room was left in it until it closed completely. The man with tattered pants began panicking, throwing his arms out towards his assailant hoping to latch on to his flowing cape, shirt or anything he could get his hands on and pull himself out of the Aetherial snare.
Above them zoomed ships of all shapes and sizes, transporting beings and cargo from one mundane task or drab location to the next. The neon lights of District 39 flashed advertisements specifically customized to those looking at them with enticing slogans created by creatively, and usually morally, bankrupt trillionaires. All that glitz and glamour, and yet this place felt so hollow to its core. Beings devoid of meaning, trying desperately to find it in meaningless shows, clubs, bars, drugs, and a number of other less socially acceptable forms of entertainment. If he felt anything towards them, it was pity and disgust.
Just as the man choked what would be his last breath, the man in black and gold released the tendrils from his neck. He collapsed into a sobbing fetal position, repeated begging for his life to be spared.
“Tell me what I want to know. And maybe I’ll let you live.” He said once more. His patience worn thin, and he knew if he wanted to stay hot on the Aetherial and Demico’s trail he had to wrap up this aggressive conversation quickly. The skin and bones beggar must have noticed the quivering lip of annoyance, because he finally gave an answer.
“I don’t know. I told you all I know I swear it on the Holy Mother’s Blessing.”
“Then we’re done here.” He raised his hand and spread his fingers; tendrils of pure darkness move towards the sobbing coward and lifted him into the air by outstretched arms so he could stare into the eyes of the one who would be his final judge. As the prey stared into the dead, black eyes of the Nekrofiend, he flung spittle into the air from more pathetic attempts to save his soul.
“Wait, wait. I remember now! The guy said something about…shit. Four claws? Two claws? No, don’t do this. It was Three Claws. Yeah, that’s it. They were headed to see someone by that name. I swear that’s all I know.
A sinister smile crossed the human Nekrofiend’s pale face. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Now it’s time I held up my end of the bargain.”
His breathing intensified as color began to return to his ghostly thin face. “Oh, praise the Holy Mother. Thank you. Praise be her benevolent word. Wait, why aren’t you putting me down? I thought we had a deal.”
“We did. You withheld information from me and that cannot be tolerated.”
The color drained from the beggar’s face again, and he struggled uselessly to free himself from the tendrils snaked around his wrists. The pale skin around the tendrils gripping began to turn red, then bluish purple from the lack of blood flow.
The man with an endless void for eyes effortlessly ignored his pleas. “Do you know what my enemies call me?” The struggling man was too panicked and continued to babble and mutter curses towards his deity, who likewise ignored his cries. Like the others before him, his shouting at the heavens above were drowned out by the growing shadows around them.
“They call me The Endbringer. Let me show you why.”
He closed his eyes, let his head fall back and raised his arms up, palms facing the skyscrapers above. He focused his mind on his burning hated of the Aetherial blights that remained. He let it fester; spreading, consuming, corrupting. He embraced the icy cold Aether as it slithered through his veins down his arms, legs, and chest until it reached the deepest depths of his soul. It gave him strength, control, purpose. He took that purpose, and poured it into the suspended human, willing it to devour the man’s essence.
The Endbringer didn’t need to see what was in front of him to know exactly what was happening. This wasn’t the first time he fed a soul to an Overlord of the Aether, and it wouldn’t be his last. The man’s veins turned black; his eyes rolled into his head before matching The Endbringer’s with their total midnight appearance. The man wretched a handful more times, and a dark crimson dripped out of his tear ducts and from the corner of his mouth. Finally, the Aetherial tendrils released their grip on him, and his body collapsed on the cold steel ground.
The discreet taccom on his wrist vibrated and produced a high-pitch ding alerting him to an incoming transmission. It snapped him out of his pleasurable state of mind, and brought back the annoyance from moments ago. “Tobias. Come in Tobias. This is Recruit Second Class Andrew Rodgers”
“Never call me by that name! I demand you address me properly.” He hissed at the device.
“Oh, right.” The voice cleared his throat then restated his introduction. “Are you there, Destroyer of Dreams, Man of Mystery, Dark Wizard of Dark Things, and the ultimate fun-bringer.” Audible cackling and roaring laughter cracked through the device from the other end. It raised his anger to a boil, and it took every ounce of restrained he had not to destroy the device and put an end to these fools.
Eventually, the laughing subsided. “Keep making a mockery of me, and I’ll show you how I got this name.”
“Yeah, okay ‘Endbringer’. Anyway, the Emperor wants an audience with you. In person.”
“Message received. Inform him I will be on my ship and headed there within the hour.”
“We’ll let him know. Recruit Second Class Rodgers out.”
A short beep indicated the transmission was over. His Holy Emperor Tenon rarely requested his presence in person, so it must be important. With a few quick presses, he checked to make sure he hadn’t missed any other attempts to reach him through calls or messaged. Nothing. With a brisk gait, he began walking back to the ship docked a couple blocks away. Away from this wretched planet filled with debauchery and the deceptive illusion of happiness.
I will find you, Kai Stormbringer. I will find you, and make you wish you never left me to die. It’s time we settle the score.