The Ascendants

Chapter 2: The Warrior

The strong smell of sea salt wafted up from the ocean waves. James Murmilo walked at a leisurely pace beside the city docks. Seagulls sang high in the sky, flying about looking for food. James loved the docks, he spent all his time there. He wasn't just a normal passer-by, he had a purpose and here was his place.

"Mornin'!" a fisherman called from the pier. James threw up a quick wave. That fisherman was always there when James passed by, always fishing with the same old rod. The docks were either devoid of activity or bustling with it. Big tankers would sail and dock here sometimes, bringing in imported goods for the city. The docks were always somewhat dirty, the guard rails on the piers were always stained by fish guts, there were stains on the concrete from where sailors would accidently drop some of their goods. The waves lapped gently against the support beams of the docks and fish swam down below.

Fish weren't the only thing that had business below the docks. James himself lived there. Every morning he would walk from one end of the docks to another. He had the vital task of making sure that nothing threatened the oceans. He and six others were tasked with guarding some aspect of the planet. What were they defending it from? Well, that's a long story.

As James strode down the docks all manner of suspicious characters passed through. The docks were a hotspot for crime. The cops hardly bothered to come down here, and none of the residents cared what happened so long as their business wasn't disturbed. The residents mostly were here because they couldn't afford to move, and if they kept their heads down, the gangs would leave them alone. Hope was a foreign word for the docks. Some of the city gangs would come here for their "initiations" since there was very little human activity on the regular. James wasn't supposed to interfere. That wasn't his purpose. If he stopped to fight every thug he came across, he'd never be able to give one-hundred percent to his duties.

Yes, it was necessary to give one-hundred percent to his task. You'd never know when his foes could strike. He had to keep a close watch, the world depended on it. James knew what he was supposed to do, but he didn't always turn a blind eye to the suffering around him. His conscience wouldn't let him. If the police wouldn't help, who would? Someone had to.

The gangs weren't the only problem that plagued the docks. They were just the tip of the iceberg. Organized crime was the real threat. Mob bosses would use the docks as a place to dispose of "loose ends" and people were regularly thrown into the water with their hands and feet tied.

Stay focused. James told himself. There is a bigger picture here. He carefully scanned every inch of the horizon for any sign that his enemies were near. He paused. There was a sound, like muffled screaming. Someone was in trouble. Stay focused. He told himself again. There it was again, louder this time. They were getting closer. Stay focused. He heard a thud and the sound of something being dragged.

There were voices now too. Two men conversed in hushed tones. James heard metal creaking like a door with rusty hinges opening. He heard a sadistic laugh, another muffled thud, the crackling of electricity like a tazer, and multiple screams. That was it. James rushed to where he heard the screams, weaving through tractor-trailer storage crates. He heard the metal door shut followed by footsteps.

James rounded the corner of one of the storage containers. Two men dressed in ratty clothing were standing outside a storage crate. One held a stun gun in his right hand. The other slammed his fist against the door of the storage crate and several high pitched screams followed, probably belonging to women. James spotted a pistol on each man's hip. He extended his right hand towards the edge of the docks. A platinum trident flew over the tops of the storage crates directly to James's extended hand. The trident quickly transformed into an umbrella. James thought it better to stay under the radar for the moment.