Crimson

The End to a New Beginning

Numb. That is the only way I could describe that feeling. The feeling that you lost everything that ever mattered. The newfound emptiness boring away at your heart.

I felt nothing as one of the guards tore off my Captain's rank insignias on my shoulders. Another guard wheels me around, marching me out of the chambers into a holding cell at the far end of the hallway. After 30 minutes another guard wearing the standard Military Police uniform of a beige bottom-up top, olive-green pants, slick black dress shoes, and a white dress cap with the letters MP in black painted on it.

He opened the door to the cell. Walking in he didn’t even give me any acknowledgment before pulling me up with my arm with a jolt. More dragging than escorting be lead me through a series of doors. After what feels like an hour, we finally exit the building and arrive at what seems to be a Moter pool. Now with me more conscious of my surroundings I no longer let myself be dragged about. We approached and transport truck that looked to have been converted into a prisoner transport truck. As we walked up to the truck the MP on the passenger side of the cabin climbed out of the truck. Preceding to trot around to the back to open the back door of the truck for me to climb into. Though that was a difficult task with my arms cuffed behind me, I managed.

The MP proceeded to close the armored door behind me as soon as I got in the truck. After looking around I sat down on the metal bench in the bed of the truck. Looking out of the barred window I noticed the MP who had escorted me walk over to the driver's side window of the truck. After exchanging some words, he gave the driver an envelope and walked back inside the building. After a couple of minutes, the engine rumbled to life. And with a jolt the truck pulled out of the Moter pool. With one last look back at the ministry building it disappears from sight as we go down a hill.

2 years later.

A lone man wearing a dark gray trench coat walks into a pub late at night. He looks around briefly. The wooden interior is semi-lit so as not to hurt the eyes. The man walked up to the bar at the far end of the pub. Pulling a stool out from under its place under the lip of the bar. Sitting down, he motioned for the bartender.

“How can I help you,” the Bartender
says.

“A wick on ice please,” the man replies

The man nods waking to the back of the bar, grabbing a bottle of a brown liquid he picks up a chilled glass. Then with a twist of his hand, a sphere of ice appears in the glass. He places the glass down in front of the man and pores the brown liquid to 3 fingers depth. Nodding the man dismisses the Bartender. The Bartender nods back and walks away. Left to himself he briefly swirls the drink before taking a sip of it.

A man in his late 30s, or early 40s takes a seat next to the man. Making eye contact with the bartender. He tilted his head to the side indicating to the bartender to get him the same thing the younger man was drinking. Nodding back the bartender gets to work making the drink.

“You are one hard man to find,” the older man says.

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” the younger man says taking a drink from his glass.

Before the older of the two responds the bartender gives the older man his glass. Nodding his thanks, the bartender walks away to help other customers.

“Now,” the man starts again. “I know who you are Captain Jacobs.”

“I don’t know who that is,” the now-revealed Robert Jacobs.

“Oh, I think you do,” he replies. He slips a hand into the inside lining of his overcoat and pulls out a folder. Passing it on the desk he slides it to Robert. Tapping the folder to underline the point.

Picking up the folder Roberts reads the pages inside.

Jacobs O. Roberts

Current age 27

Height 6’1

Weight 210

Blood type O+

Description: Tall, Athletic built with a tan skin tone. Eye color mutated via magic exposure to an electric blue from what we have speculated to have derived from a hazel brown.
Personality: Loyal to a fault. Is an overall good leader. Can go from calm to action in a snap. Highly advised not to antagonize.

Hanging on the top of the papers is a picture of me in my old dress uniform from my days as a captain.
Closing the folder, I set it on the bar. Taking another swig of my wick I ask,

“What do you want.”

“Nothing much. Just a job opportunity.”

“Is that so,” I say in return. “What does this job involve.”

“That,” the older man replied. “Would be a conversation best had in “quieter” circumstances.”

After thinking for a while, I nod in agreement. The older man gets up from his stool at the bar. Tossing a Bavarian mark onto the bar where his drink is sitting. He starts to walk to the front. I look down at my drink one last time before downing the rest in one go. I put my own Mark down knowing that the older man paid for the both of us with his money. But as a gesture of goodwill, I put my own down next to mine.
Following the older man through the front door of the pub. I always stay behind and out of striking range of him just in case. After walking for what felt like a significant amount of time, we entered a motel. There was no discerning feature of the place. It was a standard gray, 3-story building with a sign at the entrance that read, ”The Dragon”.

At the front of the building, there was a group of 5 people playing a card game. But as we passed them the chatter dropped to a whisper as we walked past. I could feel their stares bore into my skin till the front door closed behind me.

As we walked in, the interior was no different from the exterior of the building. Unassuming. The older man walked past the lady at the front desk. Who was an attractive woman in her mid to late 30s. With pale skin, azure hair with eyes to match. She nods to both of us as we pass her. Following the older man up 2 flights of stairs, we walk a short corridor till we arrive at a door on the south side of the building.
Taking out a key the older man unlocks the door. Pushing the door open he walked through the doorway. Holding the door open, I walked through the door.