Marcus looked up at me.
"Mortua. Believe me, I wish it weren't true. But I can't stop you."
"Marcus, you-"
"GOD NO, Mortua, listen to me. Why won't you listen? Mortua you aren't meant to be a villain. You don't have an evil bone in your body. Mortua, you love animals and you saved that woman and her daughter from yourself. You won't kill me because you value lives, and you will not offset the balance. Mortua, you are good. You are a good person."
"AHAHAHAHAHA!! Nice try." Marcus was funny. I am a villain. He's just trying to get in my head.
I flew into the air. Marcus is smart, I'll give him that. Preying on my like that. But I'm smarter than that. I know the difference between mind games and the truth.
"Mortua, tu certus? TU CERTUS? VIS SCIRE?" screamed the wind voice
(Mortua, are you sure? ARE YOU SURE? Do you really know?)
"Cum tu ad me solum relinquatis?" I screamed. The wind whipped, but said nothing.
(When are you going to leave me alone?")
Then suddenly, a huge gust blew and I was flung about three miles at an alarmingly fast rate towards the large building in the centre of the city. I screamed, like any normal person would do when they get thrown towards a skyscraper by the wind. Then I remembered I wasn't any normal person. So I flew home. It was cold and the wind was harsh. I was hungry. So I walked to the local deli for a sandwich.
Ever since I was a kid, I loved delis. Maybe it was the good options for food, or maybe it was because I could never stay at home during the day whilst my parents were in. Delis often served as refuge from the fire brewing at home. There was always bottles flying at the walls, and the strong scent of tobacco and nicotine always in the air. Once a bottle had fallen off a table and a piece of glass flew into my cheek. I was bleeding, but my parents were both passed out, and 8 year old me knew not to wake them from a drink induced nap, so I walked 10 miles to the hospital, where I was immediately admitted into a hospital room. The doctor had smiled at me, but the worry was there in her voice when she asked me what had happened to me. I simply laughed and said I had dropped a glass. The doctor smiled like she didn't believe me, but she let it go. No kid should have to go through something like that. It was scary. And they might turn out like me. A total menace to society. Nothing good can come from that.
I tossed and turned again in bed that night. I couldn't sleep at all. I turned to the window. It was firmly closed. I thought back to when I had been flung by the wind. It was strange that I had been flung towards that building. That had never happened before.
"I don't know what's going on. I'm scared something big is coming." I whispered into the dark.
"aliquid venit." responded the wind, before screeching as a huge gust blew down my street.
(Something is coming)
"I know. But what?" I whispered back. Lightning zapped, and thunder clapped. Then the lightning zapped and zapped again. And again. And again. Never a single clap of thunder. not even a tap.
That's off balance. That isn't meant t happen. Thunder follows Lightning. That's how it works. It has to be that way.
Then the windy voice sounds again.
"Hoc non accidit. Quis hoc facere. Quis hoc facere ad irritandum te." It whispers.
("This isn't just a coincidence. Someone is doing this. Someone is doing this to provoke you.")
"Ok we aren't friends, Windy voice. So shut up please and thank you." I said. Then the wind picked up. Like a lot. It was a proper hurricane. Stormy, rain pattering down like drops of water falling from the sky and loud. The sound was practically deafening. And then it stopped.
Then the sky flickered. Once, twice, thrice.
Calm.
The whole sky was calm. Not a single sound.
Then the sky flickered.
Flicker. Flicker. Flicker. Flicker. Flicker.
It was like a faulty light bulb. Sometimes flickering for a long period, then a short period. Then four long periods and...
Morse Code.
The sky was flickering in morse Code. I grabbed my chart, a scrap piece of paper and a pencil.
There was a long period of dark, and I worried that the sky had stopped. But then it started again.
Long. Short. Long. Short. Space.
Short. Space.
Long. Short. Space.
Long. Space.
Short. Long. Short. Space.
Short. Long. Space.
Short. Long. Short. Short. Space.
Then a longer gap. I quickly scribbled down the final letter, before waiting to see if it repeated or continued with the message. I almost had a heart attack when the sky seemingly rumbled back into life, starting again with the code.
Long. Space.
Long. Long. Long. Space.
Short. Long. Long. Space.
Short. Space.
Short. Long. Short. Space.
I looked at the two words in front of me. They were clearly a location. Somewhere I'd been. I was familiar with it. It was a national landmark, and had been symbol of the ever growing economy in my city. But it had ceased to represent the same confidence in finance, following the fall of a famous gladiator in my country's capital. With his death, came the fall of every company in his name, including the national bank. This building was a bank. Or rather had been. Now it was a derelict figment of our past. Covered in graffiti and dirt, the mint condition green tiling on the inside of the building was just visible through the grimy windows. What had once been a prominent part of national culture, now sat as a teen stoning centre.
Central Tower, the only remaining physical evidence that Roberto Mynceri ever existed. That he ever graced us with his god like looks and train sized muscles. Just like every fairytale, the words of his story had been twisted and manipulated by politicians, parents and grandmothers, monarchs and battle heroes, so that even his fable, one guilded with honour and pride, was as old, and dirty, and unkempt as the Bank Building.
But my foe lay in waiting for me there, and so I would have to brave the storm and head out there. Because someone was waiting for me and I was probably not getting any sleep unless I deal with it.
