Outside the Mirage

#15: Wyvern

Special Agent Alistair Merlyn stood in his office, pacing back and forth. On the wall was a series of newspaper clippings, each of them carefully selected and framed to be part of his collection. Several of them pertained to his grandfather's acts of shocking terror from the 1970s, some of them were written about his own conquest over the Zanzibar Zealots, a few detailed other accomplishments of his friends, one in particular was written about his brother, but the one that he was drawn to most today was the only article he had managed to acquire that was written by one Vanessa Moreland. The article was simple, she was simply reporting on an interview she had conducted with a mayoral candidate from a few years prior. He suspected it was her first headline, but he had yet to muster up the courage to ask about it. In reality, the article itself was really well-written, with the body language and voice of the candidate so crystal clear that Merlyn felt sure that he had been in the room during the interview. The thought made him smile to himself; she was a truly talented journalist. Perhaps he had taken her away from her true calling.

Grabbing his pocket watch, Merlyn checked the time. It was currently 8.33am, which meant that Vanessa was over a half-hour late. Sighing, he continued to pace around the room. He looked at the portraits displayed atop the fireplace; one of his parents at their wedding, his square-jawed father and big-eyed mother both smiling goofily together; another of him and his siblings as children at the beach, his brother looking angry while his sister was laughing; and the final picture, of Merlyn and the friends he lived with during his time at university, all four of them wearing graduation robes and clean-shaven. Then his eyes were drawn to the urn in the center, the small, simple silver piece that haunted his nightmares. He checked his watch again but it was only 8.34am.

"Sir?" Platt was at the door, peeking his head in.

"Come in, Platt."

The mage entered the room, holding a tablet in his hands. "You do have that meeting with Mr. Wyvern, today, sir. Just to remind you."

"Thank you, Platt. I was planning on heading over there at nine."

"Alright, sir," Platt replied. He turned to leave the room and then looked back. "Is Agent Trainee planning on coming in today, sir?"

"I'm not sure," Merlyn confessed. "We got into a bit of a spat last night at Skull Island."

"A spat?"

"Yeah," Merlyn said. "She thinks mages should be more proactive in the world."

Platt nodded. "There's a lot of that going around lately."

"Well, maybe the people who think that need to educate themselves," Merlyn snapped. "B.R.O.M. does a lot for the world."

"Can't both be true?"

Merlyn looked at Platt, his gaze stern and unflinching. "I don't know if they can. We do as much as we can. B.R.O.M. has protected non-mages from so much over the years. For them to then tell us we're not doing enough is disrespectful."

"I'm not saying you're wrong," Platt said. "And maybe it's not my place to say, but it just seems to be that it's better to listen to people and hear what they have to say, right?"

"I guess," Merlyn said. Then he sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I did not sleep nearly enough last night. I think I'm going to go get this Wyvern thing over with. Thank you for the chat, Mr. Platt."

Platt nodded and left the room. Merlyn grabbed his jacket and bowler hat and walked to the door. He made his chant and walked through.

His foot hit the grassy backyard of the Wyvern household. The bonfire that had existed a week earlier was replaced with a large, empty pit of ash and charred wood. A few beer cans were scattered around, along with various other pieces of trash and glass bottles.