Weapon Of Memories (A fantasy/scifi short story)

Weapon Of Memories Part 1: Spreading Fear

Derav was sitting at the counter, savouring his stiff drink. Tonight he was still just a seemingly normal Magus Officer, but a few days from now he would become something more, a bringer of peace and stability, a saviour and a conduit of terror, anguish and despair. This was the last time he could indulge in his favourite drink, . You couldn't get this stuff in the field no matter how high up the chain you were, it was served only here in the local bar of Derav's childhood home Hrawit Kohm. When he first tasted it back when he was fifteen years old, it had been hideous. How could anyone actually like the bitter harsh taste of strong beer? But even though the first impression had not been particularly good, over the years he had found a certain fascination for the drink. Time after time he tasted it again, every time growing to tolerate it, and eventually learned to appreciate the subtle details of the aroma, color and flavour, the experience.

Derav stared at the half full pint of golden joy. He was excited. All the endless exercises, meditation and physical training had finally come to an end. Tomorrow he would be shipped halfway across the planet to help bring peace to this mess of a world. He would use his unusual talents to stop confrontations before they even began. He would save lives.

The bar door opened and Derav could sense three people coming inside. Their eyes were immediately focused on him, a feeling of disgust building inside their minds.

"Hey! You there, with the silver suit!"

It was actually light grey, but calling it silver gave the suit an air of significance. It was true his Officer's uniform did stand out in a place like this. Usually people respected the uniform and the status that came with it, but from the bitter tone Derav guessed the man's views differed from the general consensus.

"How may I help you?" Derav asked the man while still inspecting his half empty pint.

"Help all of us by getting the hell out of this bar, you murderer" The man answered heavily emphasizing his last words.

Intrigued by the accusation, Derav dropped the investigation of his golden fluid and turned to face the newcomers.

"Murderer?"

"Don't give me that bullshit. You know what you've done. Churches, schools even hospitals, seems like no place is safe from your bombs"

"Just the media trying to spin a story from lies and misinformation"

"Oh yeah, tell that to the independent journalists who risk their lives every day in the warzone. Tell that to the mothers and fathers who will never see their children grow up. Tell that to the thousands of orphans who will never feel the loving embrace of their family ever again. Tell that to yourself so you can sleep at night"

"My conscience is sound. We did not start this, we do not target civilians and our enemy has every motivation to discredit our efforts while committing atrocities themselves"

"My conscience is also sound, after committing atrocities on your skull!"

The older man and his friends started to approach Derav. Their eyes were locked on to him. They moved with malicious intent, their bodies tense, ready to smite their outnumbered enemy. Derav sensed their anger, a vile poison spreading through their brains, twisting their thoughts and narrowing their perceptions. One of the more primitive aspects of man, very powerful but easy to manipulate.

Derav was not weak. Advanced academy training, a rigorous workout routine and a healthy military diet had granted him the body structure and martial skills to take on any inexperienced whelp. He was not the biggest nor the strongest man in his class, but taking down these three would pose no problem. But his strengths did not lie in the physical aspects of man. This was a good opportunity to hone his skills before leaving to the front.