Warner Papadopoulos

I’ve made a mistake, lamented Warner. A huge mistake… and they are going to pay for it with me.

He grimaced, choking off the string of curses that battled to be free. No more flaws of confidence could be shown to his team. Already there was a desperate air to them. Jittery stances as they stared down the monstrous herd that blocked their way to safety. Still, the six of them stood strong and unharmed. That gave him hope. The brawler took that confidence to empower himself. Focusing on how often he was willing to bet on himself. Even against the odds. Remembering that he had faith in his team.

There have been dire straits before, grinned Warner, stiffly. I’ve taken beatings, physically and professionally. And, yet, every time I made it through. I won’t fail myself, or them.

Immediately the brawler tossed aside any thought or plot that involved slaying them all. Glory was no longer a concern. Not the goal at all. He narrowed it all down to survival. Warner swore to himself, that once they were clear he would spend some serious consideration on what led him here. What flaw of his had driven them all to this madness.

The sudden appearance of this trap had sobered him like a cold shower. None of the big man’s reasons seemed good enough anymore. Warner bemoaned how easy it had been to do this. A great deal of trust in him wasted. Tossed away because of his arrogance.

“Fuck, alright,” growled Warner. He was unable to hold back a curse when using anger to cloak his fear. “Simple fuckin’ plan. Charge and burn ‘em. We keep moving and leave no one behind.”

Everyone steeled themselves. His words revitalized their edge. Elena and Zachariah shifted forward to use their bulk to force their way through. Both gave the space behind them a searching look, but then turned their focus on what was ahead. Ready to be the strongarms of this escape. The three acolytes brimmed with prepared Mana, their eyes engulfed by their personal tint of energy. Hazily around them were images of the coming demonstrations of power. Jorgenson was cloaked in a shifting storm light and ghastly purple threads floated around Molly. Conor tried hard to maintain a stiff upper lip, though some of his courage was lost in the fluttering of the white light surrounding his staff.

Warner pulled deeply on the Mana within. Urging it to be his strength and circulating as Molly suggested. Orange power boiled pleasantly under his skin. Ready to put that extra oomph in every strike. It was almost euphoric to him even in this instant of mortal peril. Enough to grin, if a little mournfully. The color had surprised him, but it was a good one. The shade reminded him of happiness. Sunsets. sherbert, and orange soda. Another promise was made during that moment of reflection. A childish one, yet uplifting. Nodding to nothing, the brawler looked up at the approaching Ratsins. He took the first step.

“Rrrraaaaaaahhhh!” he roared wordlessly while charging as the vanguard. Expelling his frustration and getting his blood warmed up. Orange light blazing as he revved his power for impact. Warner heard the pounding on the stone that denoted his frontliner teammates trying to keep up. He would break the formation ahead, but they would hold it. Creating a passage would be dicey, but the brawler trusted them. Just as he trusted the acolytes to soften those Ratsins before the two groups met.

The air of the cave stirred and Jorgenson’s voice broke the air. A greatly empowered Tempest’s Pummeling rained down the Goliath Ratsins. The balls of electrified air jostled the giants around while shredding off fur and skin. Their monstrous charge faltered as they tried to defend against it. Molly followed up by beginning her chant. The temperature became noticeably lower. Her voice became a thing of cold contempt. A thing of terror.

“I Am The Child Of Shades,

From My Web Do I Watch,

Weaving and Pulling Strings,

Shifting The World’s Players,

That isn’t enough,

Guidances Pales to Control

For All Is Mine To Claim,

Falter Your Will To Me,

Become Precious Pawns,

Puppetmaster’s Claim!”

A river of purple threads of Mana swarmed over his head and poured down on the Goliath Ratsins. Like water surging, the threads crashed and clashed among the monsters. Tangling and covering them before tightening. Some escaped complete entrapment by blazing their azure energy, but others were not quick enough on the draw. A few never had a chance before being subsumed and one had the effect choked out of it. Those completely covered began to jerkily attack their own kind. The partially covered struggled to move against the restraining threads.

A grin spread across Warner’s face as true hope sparkled in his eyes. He saw them really cutting through this pack now. They were in disarray, ripe for the three of them to break. The brawler grinned and leaped into the air. Orange streamed behind him as he brought both fists down explosively upon the first Goliath Ratsin. The impact tossed the head of the monsters, but he had to push himself free as quick jaws tried to snap shut in the same space as him. Mad blue eyes and a meaty first followed after.

Elena and Zachariah took the opportunity created to rush in. Soon it was the three of them against the one monster. Deploying their normal tactic of wearing down the Ratsin and pushing it backward. Other giants tried to join the fight, but the support from the acolytes made it futile. Molly’s puppet master’s spell maintained crowd control while Jorgenson bombarded thickly on their flanks. The rat battled hard and landed heavy wounds on all three of them. Shields splintered and blood was spilled. Attrition would be against them if not for Conor’s healing. Whether by nature or need, their healer specialized in long-range healing.

The Goliath Ratsin could endure no more of their assault and fell to the stone. An ax finished it while Warner looked for the next target. Molly had lured and dragged some away. Their escape was at hand. Then he heard the thunder but did not see the lightning. Whirling balls of electrified wind no longer fell amongst the Goliath Ratsins. The effect was immediate as the giants lurched into cover the once budding opening. Warner took a step back and turned to see the cause for the interruption.

He was blinded.

For a terrible beat of the heart, all he could see was an azure light so bright it appeared almost white to his stinging eyes. Precious seconds spilled away as Warner adjusted to the sudden glare. The world had gone black and white, shadow and light, all of it tinted mad blue. Molly was reduced to a narrow shade, shivering with concentration and hands twitching with commands. A scream of terror identified which shadow was Conor. Which meant the one struggling in the fist of abominable darkness was Jorgenson. There was a terrible scream of pain as the poor woman was crushed. Snarling, the acolyte gave a final effort, erupting in a furious storm. It didn’t help her any.

The green-gray energy passed over the fiendish titan unremarked beyond illumination. Its fur was ruffled by the angry wind and revealed a hideous face. Beautiful and terrible all at once. Perfection in form, if human evolution had struck straight from rodents rather than the apes. The face was deformed, resembling someone with both an underbite and overbite. A vestigial protrusion of fangs. Life’s blood poured from the great monster’s fist like a crushed peach. Jorgenson was tossed aside. The titan’s attention shifted as it dry shook the drenched hand. The brawler growled, anger and regret boiling wildly together. He stepped towards the impossible horror. Revenge took over his mind, but Elena and Zachariah cried out to him.

“Warner!” screamed Elena. The pack of Goliath Ratsins were beginning to overwhelm the two frontliners. Even with Molly’s spell still active it wasn’t enough. There was already blood dribbling from both of them. He took a step towards them. His mind was awash with calculations to get them out of this. Every plan kept running into death. Starting over and over again changed nothing.

“Warner!!” callout Molly in a panic. Punctuating the haste, a cry of terror followed after. The brawler whipped around to see Conor fleeing and the titan following. It’s slow, but great steps cutting the distance so quickly. Deep shadows and mad light contrasted cruelly on the healer’s face. Warner saw his teammate weeping before the foot came down. The brawler went cold at the sight of the wet pool created. His eyes were held unwillingly on the azure radiance reflecting in the ripples.

“Warner…” gasped someone harshly from behind him. The big man had been moving to cover Molly. She was next in line in the slow rampage of the titan rat. This desperate plea shook him to the bone as the call dragged him around. Dragged back to see. Elena and Zachariah stood. Weapons flashing and shields turning to scrap. Blood, red and blue spraying. Then, the tide of Goliath Ratsins flowed over. Hiding them from sight and quickly after that, from sound too.

Warner looked at Molly. The last one. Two pairs of eyes met in a turmoil of emotions. Regret. Terror. Anger. Reaching out to her and he took a step forward. His throat worked to cry out a warning that was too late and long already pointless. Still, something passed between them, and the acolyte of curses wretched her glowing hands. Something like satisfaction crossed her face as several monstrous throats cry out in pain. He saw it coming, but there was no time. The brawler tried anyway, throwing all his strength into rushing to her side. A clawed hand came down and she was scattered to pieces.

He was alone.

Alone and stuck between two masses of foes. Behind him, the pack of giants loped forward. Lined like a devouring crescent. In front of the brawler, the titanic beast turned to look at Warner with consideration. Only a couple of steps brought to loom over the big man on his knees. The brawler’s strength had been sapped. He was aware of the approaching doom, but lost in self-loathing. Accepting.

What have I done? cringed Warner with contrition. Their loyalty to me brought them to ruin. What does that make me? A fool and a bastard… a damned liar… a prideful ass.

He looked up to meet the eyes of the azure titan. That humanoid face stared back. A smirk formed. It grew into a smile before the sharpened teeth opened. The brawler’s world was lost in mad blue flames. There was pain, immediate and overwhelming. Then nothing. Warner floated with no sensation. He stared into oblivion and saw the infinite. It was horrible and beautiful as others had told him it would be.

Yet death did not haunt the brawler. It felt distant and he was numb to the awe. Most of Warner’s focus was internal. Studying and cringing over the pain inside. A boulder of regret laid heavily over his shoulders. He was nowhere and couldn’t deny that it felt like justice. Punishment. Righteous damnation, but the big man knew this wasn’t good enough. There was a debt to pay. Several debts.

If he wasn’t tormenting himself, Warner would have laughed at the flare of pride that ignited within. That tarnished honor that had fueled the desires that lead to all his mistakes and sins. It had gotten him into this mess and now that aspect was the one demanding he attempt reparation. The brawler wanted to laugh as oblivion pulled him closer. Screamed at the delusions of his own grandeur, and yet, the path laid out by his arrogance was the only one to walk.

I made a mistake and I lied to them, thought Warner while floating in the void. Lucky me, I get a chance to make it up to ‘em. And I will. I owe ‘em. When we’re square, maybe they’ll forgive me. With a plan of action made, the brawler no longer needed to reflect, a spark of confidence restored. He would return to the living and resolve this momentary inversion of good sense.

His fall into oblivion was arrested as light bloomed around Warner. The return of sensation rocked through him. Feel, smell, sound, and taste flooding all thoughts. A torment as much as its loss had been. The first thing the brawler noticed was that he did not feel any cold stone beneath him, but instead a bed. Second, it was very quiet. Neither things were how he expected upon waking. With great effort, he opened his eyes as if fleeing sleep.

It was his room. He could tell just by the bed being sized perfectly, as all beds were to their user. There was really only one other thing to look at. Malachi, sitting quietly in a chair by the bed. The bearded man’s face couldn’t be seen as they stared down at their clasped hands. Warner blanched as he noticed the body language and white knuckles. The confidence that had filled him before fled quietly. The big man wasn’t sure he had ever seen anyone appear so angry before.

There must have been a sound because Malachi looked up. Cold, furious eyes locked on to Warner’s. The silence was terrible. Seconds or an eon passed before the sword acolyte stood up stiffly. They shifted close and raised their hand. A loud clap thundered, echoing in the room. A flash of pain consumed by numbness that quickly failed before a burning pain consumed the side of his face. The brawler felt like his skull was bruised. That shame had been directly delivered into his flesh.

Under those terrible eyes that held his, Warner didn’t feel he could react. Only stare back and wait for what comes next. It was frightening to see a reasonable man angry. Constrained rage laced every word as Malachi said, “You got them killed.”

He tried to respond, thinking an explanation was wanted, needed, but the bearded man snarled him to silence.

“YOU got them killed,” exclaimed Malachi, cold fury warming. “For what point would you take your party out there alone? I have racked my brain to conceive of any logical reason to make that decision. Since the moment you all respawned and you were dragged in here… I have beat my mind black and blue… because there had to be a sound motive why you would do this. Take that risk.”

“I..” tried Warner.

Malachi’s eyes flared as he roared, “No! Shut up! Do you know what I came up with? Nothing. Nothing at all. Fuck al! I wanted to bet on you. Believe you had some good intentions, but all I can come up with are selfish reasons… We butted heads at the beginning. I wasn’t blind that you thought yourself the better leader and I was at times inclined to even let you step ahead of me. Others convinced me against that… I’m glad I did.”

“It was…” began the brawler.

The bearded man’s eyes narrowed as he cut Warner off, “I’m not finished. You get to listen to me, and then I will let you try to explain this madness. Where was I… Yes, I became the leader by weight of my choices and you resented that. We struggled against each other, but I was fine with the state of our relationship. It was to be a good thing. You would keep me sharp. I’d imagine that in time it would become something comfortably close to friendship. When I had my fall and you did nothing… Well, I thought I had your tacit approval. That… things had improved between us better than I expected. Beyond my wildest dreams really… “

“Now, I know that to be false,” sighed Malachi. “Things haven’t improved. I don’t know why you didn’t take the opportunity to usurp me. It seems to me you skipped the best chance you had… and then you did this. Made a terrible mistake, for what? To make me look like a coward and a fool? Why Warner? Please explain. Try.”

Before when the leader of the Sixty was speaking, the pressure had been terrible, but as the sword acolyte waited for an answer it got worse. Finding the right words was no longer a distraction. The whole of Malachi’s being was focused on Warner. Expecting an explanation. The brawler’s mouth was dry. He found the words hard to pick out. Those perfect phrases were lost to the wind like dust.

“Are you not going to say anything?” sneered Malachi.

Warner struggled to break the lock on his tongue and said, “I don’t know what to say.”

Malachi shook his head. Closed his eyes and frowned before opening them again to ask, “You had something to say before…Now you have nothing to add…Do you not have any excuse?”

“No…” whispered Warner. “It was a mistake. A fault of pride… and…”

“And they paid for it,” completed Malachi.

“Yes,” gulped Warner. Through sheer shame, he broke eye contact and looked away. The other man allowed it. They both fell to silence. After a few beats, the brawler looked back over as he asked, “What are you going to do to me?”

“Nothing,” breathed Malachi, seeming absent in thought and tone. “What can I do? Even if I had the authority to punish you… which isn’t something that has been discussed at all before… what could we do to you? Disband your party? They may yet balk at the idea. I don’t desire to test their loyalty. There is always house arrest in this room, but that has issues of its own. Really, in the end, I need your power on the frontline. The Sixty can’t afford for me to take you out of the picture.”

Warner was completely confused. He realized on some level he expected and even wanted to be punished. Or at least for Malachi to use this against him. Any of that would have been reasonable to fall upon him for the failure. It didn’t sit well with the big man that he was free of reprisal. Being let off scot-free. He asked, “Then, we go on as before?”

A cold laugh escaped from the sword acolyte before he stated, “No. No, no, no. We don’t go on as before. You are on my shitlist. I don’t trust you with anything anymore. Nor will I shield your reputation. It shall be made very clear that you acted beyond my knowledge and judgment; How very displeased I am at your actions.”

“I guess, I shouldn’t expect anything less,” mourned Warner. “It’s less than I deserve.”

“Yes,” agreed Malachi. “But, if you take it to heart… well I expect you’ll make up for this blunder someday. You’re better than this…” On that note, the sword acolyte got up. He moved to leave, but paused at the door. “Your party is outside this door. They were confused by my reaction… worried when I dragged you into here. It would be best if you tell them the truth. I believe it would be better if they heard it from you.”

With that, the door was flung open and the leader of the Sixty was gone. He passed through Warner’s party without greeting or a word. There was already tension brewing in his teammates as they filed in to check on him. Worried and confused faces looked him over. Wondering as they waited for an explanation for the sudden meeting between the brawler and the sword acolyte.

Warner looked at them all and had no idea what to say beyond the truth. He cringed inwards, How do I start telling people I care about that I’m a liar?