IIsaac was in his absolute least faourite place on earth. General Harforn's business office, in south ciy comand. Isaac was wearing his grey greatcoat, as he almost always did, but he wore a plain white singlet underneath. He glanced up at the wall clock.
10:30.
Am, of course. Isaac's trousers were ripped at the knees, and evidence of dozens of re-stitchings were quite obvious. His gasmask was nowhere in sight, nor his boots, which he had exchanged for a pair of slip-on black shoes. Isaac' long, dark brown hair was pulled into a ponytail by a green band, though his fringe still managed to threaten covering his eyes. Isaac's face was lean and angular, not exactly mean-looking, but certainly strong, and as many a woman would proclaim, handsome in a 'modest way'. His eyes were an odd shade of aqua, like the water of shallaws. The only marring of his appearance was a tiny scar on his cheek, which most people wrongly assumed he had gotten in combat. But considering how he had gotten it, Isaac wasn't too eager to correct anyone. The room itself was fairly spartan, a few portraits of older gentlemen the names of which Isaac didn't really care to remember decorating the walls.
Harforn's desk was a big block of wood with bits chopped out of it to accomadate for his legs and a drawer or two. It was piled high with paper work and pens. Altough Isaac had no idea what the hell the general was doing with so many red pens. The office was small and stuffy, with no windows and a very small fire place. But the thing that made Isaac really hate the place was the old asshole sitting behind the desk. General Harforn wasn't over-weight, actually he was rather skinny, but Isaac instantly associated the old tosser with fat because he'd barely ever seen the general get off his arse.
The general wore spectacles, and his thin face was hollow cheeked, so his ears looked far larger than they really were. His hair was grey and messy for a military officer's, but considering he was sixty something or rather no one seemed to care anymore. Isaac was sitting opposite Harforn, his arms behind his head and his shoes on the desk between them, right on one of the important documants so that every time he shuffled his feet a little the paper got just a bit more scrunched up.
Isaac liked annoying Harforn, but unfortunately for the latter, Isaac was one of the best single man unts in the entire military and he knew it. Harforn's lip twitched as he glanced at the ruined document, and Isaac grinned easily. That twitch was something Isaac was fmiliar with.
“now, general, would you mind if I asked you a question?” As he said the words, Isaac deliberately shuffled his foot from side to side.
The general took in a deep breath “Isic-”
“Isaac. The A is long. I-saac.” Farforn's lip twitched again. Isaac decided to let the man talk, for a while at least.
“Karthall, you may ask me a question, if you should so wish.”
Isaac slowly put his feet on the ground and stood up. He slid one palm over the other and grabbed up the document he'd been scrunching up.
“now sir, just yeserday I got back here from a mission. A termination mission, Victor fire brand, rogue runist.” The paper in Isaac's hand caught light. Harforn briefly glanced at it, before returning his gaze to Isaac. Isaac blew the ash from his hand, and continued. “I was told he was an ice runist. By your people.and you know what that information was wrong. Your courier told me that 'fire brand' was an ironic title, because the man controlled ice. Like how mine is alchemist. They supposedly try to change things into other things, lead to gold, wood to silver. But I don't do that, do I? I convert living, into dead. That's my job. you know what? I don't like being lied to.”
Harforn was no fool, and he knew that Isaac was not bluffing with the threatening gesture. He cleared his throat, “well, we were...mis-informed. I didn't know. “
flames suddenly sprouted on Isaac's arms as his skin appeared to combust.
“DON'T GIVE ME THAT BULL!” Isaac picked up the chair he'd been sitting on and threw it at a wall.The wood shattered. “I WILL NOT BE LIED TO!” Harforn had a pistol in his hand, and had jumped back from his desk. Old man or not, he was a trained officer and Karthall's unexpected rage had surprised him.
Isaac calmed himself, and the flames slowly died down. Isaac was sick of this. He knew would Harforn was doing. feeding him lies about missions, making sure Eleanor wasn't available for back up and sending him as far away as possible while still being able to monitor his movements with some ammount of success.
Harforn was trying to get him killed.
Isaac very carefully pulled his great coat open. A large red sigil, a hexagon with seven line sthrough it and a circle at its centre became visible over the right ide of his chest. His revolver was also obvious on the left side of his chest. Karthall pointed at the rune.
“shield. good for three bullets. Don't shoot or I'll kill you. I jut want to know one thing: why are you trying to kill me?”
Harforn slowly lowered his pistol. “Isaac I think we both know the answer to that particular question. You're dangerous. With runist rogues becoming more and more common these days, I have to make sure you aren't going to turn on us. The easiest way to do that is to kill you.”
“So why not just shoot me?” Isaac's arms were still smoking, and he was resisting the urge to let them catch again.
Harforn was sweating, possibly out of concern, possibly because the fire place was now a roaring mass of flames threatening to devour the entire wall. Isaac grimaced and forced the flames to die down to embers.
“We both know that if I tried to kill you I would end up dead. You think I'm stupid enough to believe you don't hve a shield grafted into your skin somewhere?”
Isaac already knew that Harforn wasn't an idiot, but he was honestly surprised the dolt had thought of that. Indeed, A rune was scared into the back of Karthall's scalp, invisible through his thick hair and powered with just enough energy to block a single bullet. It made him effectively immune to snipers, for the first shot anyway. Altough because of the rune's sensitive loacation, its activating still hurt like all of hell.
Isaac's hand instinctively reached behind his head, and Harforn nodded.
“knew it. Isaac, we both know you aren't going to kill me. I'm not goingto kill you, so where do we go from here?”
Isaac grinned, but it didn't reach his eyes. Those were full of malice.
“You need to try harder. I want the most difficult missions you can get me, and I want to be notified every time a runist turns from the military. And any information you can give me on them. I want a list of all registered runists who have deserted the military, and information there of. Finally, I want you to know that if I desert the military you'll be the first one I burn.”
Isaac turned on his heel and left the office, leaving Harforn to fumble with putting his gun away and collapse back into his chair. Harforn's brow was drenched, and he muttered to himself.
“Isaac, stupid Isaac. If you knew...You'd be singing a different tune.”
“I could take on a tank.”
“he could send a dozen of them.”
“I could not handle a dozen tanks.”
“my point exactly.”
Isaac suddenly stopped walking. He and eleanor stood in the middle of a hallway, staring at a door with a small plaque reading: APARTMENT 111 mounted on it.
Eleanor wore her casual dress, grey trousers and t shirt. Iaac had to admit that the slight tightness of the shirt around her chest had drawn his eyes once or twice, tho he didn't find Eleanor to be anything exceptional looks-wise.
“eyes are up here.”
“Yeah well you could wear a shirt that's your size.”
Eleanor made a hmph sound and tossed her head so that her long, black hair whiped Isaac's face.
“doesn't doing that hurt your neck?”he asked.
“no. and about the shirt, I didn't have anything else, they're at the launders and I didn't realise this one was so small.”
“well than why not wear your coat?”
Eleanor gave him an angrey look and then knocked on the door hard enough that Isaac half expected it to fall off.
“have fun, tell Jonah I said hi and don't you dare talk about my boobs with him.”
Eleanor was already speed-walking back down the corridor.
Isaac cupped his hand around his mouth, “Be careful, you know what'll happen if you get hit by a cold breeze!” He grinned as she raised her middle finger in his direction.
On the job, Isaac and Eleanor were the definition of a good team. As hunters of rogue runists, they had to be. Even with his control of fire and however limited knowledge of shielding runes, Isaac was by no means all-powerful. Eleanor, while without the abilities of a runist, was a master of martial skills. She'd been trained in the use of more fire arms than Isaac could count, a fact she constantly tormented him with in the form of her habit of sayng out loud the names of every weapon she knew before going to sleep. The apartment door opened. Isaac stood face to face with a man who could quite easily be confused with a statue. His skin was pale and chiseled, his face high boned and his cheeks hollow. His brow wide but not overly so, And his lips thin but full. Even the man's eyes were a stone-like shade of grey that enhanced the imagery. The bird on his shoulder helped, tho it wasn't defecating the man as it would a statue.
“Isaac, good to see you.” The man's mouth split to reveal a perfect smile, and he reached out on hand for shaking. Isaac grabbed it and pulled his old friend into an embrace. “Jonah, my friend, good to see you.”
Jonah welcomed Isaac into his apartment, a small, two room space made up of a combined kitchen-dining room and a bedroom which Isaac assumed had an ensuite. The place was very tidy, and the furniture dust-free. The bird, a large black hawk with bright red tail feathers, perched on a bare branch in a small potted tree. Jonah offered Isaac a tea, but Isaac refused and rebunked with a request for something 'stronger'. After a minute or two, the old friends sat by a brick fireplace with cheap beer in hand. Tho jonah made sure to pour a few drops into the hawk's drinker.It seemed to enjoy it.
“you got a bird.” Isaac found it so strange that he siad it as a statement rather than a question. Jonah was settled in a comfortable recliner, and took a swig of the gin before answering. “His name is Terix.”
Isaac thought for a few seconds before answering, “That's a stupid name for a bird.”
Jonah sighed like it wasn't the first time he'd heard that, and then said, “what would you have me call it?”
“I don't know. Raptor, Talon, Falco?”
Jonah raised one wiry eye brow. “Falco? Really, Falco?”
“Ok let's back up a bit, why do you have a bird?”
Johnah took another deep swig.
“long story. Well not really, but that doesn't matter. I have a bird, it helps me and it's name is terix. There, that's done. Now, why are you here?”
“Come on, I visit every time I'm in south city.”
'yeah but usually you don't look so broody.”
Isaac looked at his friend with narrowed eyes. “I am notbroody.”
“yes you are.”
“no I'm not.”
“yes you are.”
Isaac sighed and finished last of his gin. This was just like old times. The two of them insulting each other.
Isaac and Jonah went back a long time. They'd been friends growing up, had enlisted in the military together, and Jonah had been Isaac's partner before he was replaced by the 'newer, sexier body guard' as Jonah described Eleanor. They sat togeher in silence for a few minutes.
“More runists are going rogue every week. And I think I know why.”
There was a long silence, punctured only by the bird flying over and perching on Jonah's shoulder. Eventually Jonah sighed, “go on.”
“I think something is wrong with the source.”
“how could you possib-”
“I know we don't have any idea where the power of runes come from, I know that. But every single runist has the feeling. You don't understand, but the power, it's alive. It's a living being that gives us power when we give it energy. I can feel it, just behind my own thoughts like a-”
“Stop it. We both know that can't be true.”
Isaac stood up, approaching Jonah. “Are you calling me a liar?”
Jonah drew himself to his own full height, nearly a head taller than Isaac. The statue man was tall.
'No. That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying that your power is NOT a living thing. You are mistaken.”
Isaac's arms were smoking, and the veins in his forearms were glowing the colour of embers. Neither of them would back down. One of the few traits they shared was stubborness.
“I think I know about my own power. It IS alive. I can feel it moving around. Like -”
“stop it now.” The tension could have been cut with a knife and served with a side of lettuce. Terix the hawk was glaring at Isaac like he disapperoved of his chois of clothing. Jonah glanced down then settled back into his chair. Isaac's arms settled down, and he sat back into the seat.
“what's your point?” Jonah asked.
“there's something wrong with it. It whispers. It wants people to die.”
Jonah was clearly skeptical. “has it always....been so angry?”
Isaac finished his gin.
“No. But I think it's driving the runists to commit acts of violence. To satisfy the whispers.” more silence.
“What are you going to do?”
“for now... Kill any of my coleagues who are overcome by it. I need to figure out what's going on.”
Jonah grunted. “So, you'll be off then.”
“yeah. I have to get moving.” He stood up andstretched.
“hey, Isaac. Tell that girl of yours' that I sai she can visit anytime she wants.
“riiight. I'll get on that.”