Difference between revisions of "(KigaVerse) Northwatch: Origins"

In the dead of night, a vintage, burgundy Rolls-Royce glided to a stop in front of an old, abandoned warehouse in the south end of Toronto. It was a Nimbus Edition, the kind that didn't produce noise or experience turbulence at high altitudes. Custom made with a classic body and all the modern guts and innards. The detail work was strictly gold. No Chrome. The meticulously polished hood ornament depicted Dolos, the Greek god of trickery and illusions. It was a featureless male head with long, sleek wings jetting from the shoulders of the bust.

The rear left passenger door popped open and an immaculately dressed Rakshasa stepped out of the hover car and into the crisp night air. He was a tall man of clear Indian decent with kempt black hair and a clean English mustache between his chiseled nose and chin. He grimaced, gazing about his dilapidated surroundings with staunch disapproval. He adjusted the collar of his burgundy sports jacket over his black turtle neck and proceeded toward the entrance of the warehouse, shivering gently in the cool autumn air.

The interior of the warehouse was bathed in an all-encompassing darkness. The partially illuminated edges of Destroid silhouettes stood on guard all around a central figure which sat menacingly in a decorative office chair in a motionless silence. Rakshasa stuffed both hands in the pockets of his burgundy slacks, leering around in uncomfortable disgust.

"Skipped the light bill, have we?" he asked sarcastically.

The figure slowly rose from his seat, Rakshasa's expression slipping into a nervous fear as the man reached his towering full posture.

"I trust you've completed your task, Rakshasa," Doctor Destroyer snarled indifferently.

Rakshasa swallowed and gathered his wits before speaking.

"It has been done, Master Destroyer," he said earnestly in a robust Indian accent, lowering his head respectfully as he finished speaking.

Destroyer snickered from beneath his helmet, once again taking his seat.

"You've been a loyal servant to me, Rakshasa. And when the time is right, you will be rewarded beyond measure."

Rakshasa lifted his sinister gaze, a smug grin painted beneath his perfectly groomed mustache.

A lone white raven glided majestically through an astral vision of the ancient land. The land before machine and industry. The land of the Ancestors. Great pines towered over lush green plains carved sinuously into sections by broad rivers tumbling from the peaks of high mountains. Further ahead, the lush green of life began to wither and decay into a morose, snow-capped tundra. The raven's eyes shifted and darted about in perplexed aw as a gust of bitter-cold air overtook its path. Heavy flakes of snow fell from the gloomy sky as the white raven landed on the branch of a withered old pine tree. It released a weary kraa into the arid, frozen landscape that echoed about unnaturally.

A moment of silence as the echo faded and the raven gave a glance of its shoulder. Behind it a snarling, vitriolic grey face of large proportions loomed ominously. It donned two long, gnarled horns, one broken, and a crimson beard that framed off red warpaint from chin to forehead. It screamed with a primal, ferocious hatred and malice, flashing long, hideous fangs and producing a deep, thunderous, deafening roar that startled the white raven into flight.

Billy Edenshaw, better known to the world as Ravenspeaker, awoke in the single bed of his cabin, soaked in sweat. He released a horrific cry of fear and outside his cabin, a conspiracy of ravens perched in a nearby tree scattered into the shattered silence of the night. Inside, Billy's astral form floated above his now unconscious body. Scanning his cabin for present threats, he returned to his body, and leaped from the bed.

The door of his cabin flew open and he exited shirtless. Making his way through the snow, he stopped under the tree where a single raven had returned. Billy's beady raven eyes fixed upon the far-off sight of Lynx Fold.

"No," his raven tongue mumbled as he held his dreadful gaze, the lone raven crying into the night overhead.

"Is it cold?" Elizabeth McRae asked, snuggled in the embrace of her husband's bright red RCMP uniform. Her slender frame sank into his towering torso, her head pressed against his chest to feel his heartbeat. His thick, muscular arms held her tightly as he grinned, kissing the top of her head.

"I'm pretty sure, yeah," Jason McRae answered softly.

"And you'll be stranded in the middle of nowhere, in that crazy place," she proclaimed, leaning back to look up at him with her big blue eyes and angelic face. "I've heard about the crazy stuff that happens up there," she continued, placing her head against his chest again. Jason flashed a closed lip smile of fond affection.

"It'll be alright, babe. Six months and I'm right back here in your arms," Jason reassured her.

"And you can come home once a month, right?"

"For the whole weekend."

"It's going to be the hardest six months of our lives."

"But it's nothing the McRae Clan can't handle," Jason comforted her, kissing the top of her head once again.

Jason and Elizabeth made their way down the second story stairs of their modest home, hands interlocked as if they never wanted to let go. Jason's left hand traced the familiar length of the white bannister railing, knowing it would be the last time he'd get to do so for at least five weeks. For the McRae family, five weeks was going to seem like an eternity.

At the kitchen island sat their thirteen-year-old daughter, Hailey Jade McRae, eating a bowl of cereal and hanging out with their grey and white, female Maine Coon mix, Jynx. She was a spitting image of he her mother. Her long blond hair was neatly gathered in a French braid that rested around the left side of her neck. As Jason and Elizabeth came into sight Jynx leapt off the island to avoid being caught on the counter yet again.

"I saw that, Jynxy!" Jason said with a smile.

Hailey gave a quick glance of her shoulder, smiling fondly at the sight of her parents. Today was the big day. He father was leaving for a new posting up north and wouldn't be back for some time. Jason had been in her life from day one. He had never spent more than an eight to twelve hour shift away from his family. But her dad was a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, and the nation had called upon him to serve. She was proud of him, and excited for the adventures and stories he'd bring home with him when it was all over.

"Morning, love birds," She said lovingly before returning to her cereal.

Jynx brushed her furry cheeks against Jason's leg as he stopped at the island, picking up his #1 Dad cup, taking a sip of the fresh coffee Elizabeth had prepared for him. Ever the punctual man, he wanted to set a good impression by being as early as he could for the flight. He leaned into Hailey, hugging her with his right arm, and she smiled, turning her head and leaning it back for a kiss on the forehead.

"I'll see you when I get home, princess," he said, trying to hide the pain and emotion. He couldn't think of a worse situation, but he had to be strong and positive. He was the rock of the McRae family.

"Love you, Dad. Try to have some fun, okay?" Hailey suggested as she returned to her cereal.

"I love you both so much," Jason declared with a steadfast sincerity and overwhelming anxiety.

"Go get 'em, baby," Elizabeth said, tears welling in her baby blue eyes as she blew him a kiss.

Jason threw a large black bag over his shoulder and picked up his campaign hat and keys from the lounge stand behind the sofa. Making his way to the door, he noticed the family husky, Maxamillian, waiting for him at the door as he did every morning he went to work. Jason kneeled down, lovingly scratching his neck, chin and cheeks before kissing his head.

"Take care of our girls while I'm gone, Max," he whispered softly.

With that he rose and turned to face the family he loved more than anything. The family he worked so hard for every day. The family he'd die to protect. He smiled with passion and reassurance and dipped his chin to ceremoniously place campaign hat on head.

"We'll be touching down at Force Station Steelhead at 0900 hours. From there you'll be briefed by Chief Superintendent Pentecost on your roles as compliance officers for the next six months," Sergeant Major McCreedy barked with a calm, collected yet authoritative, almost ominous tone. "I want to be perfectly clear, gentleman. Steelhead Division is going to be unlike anything you've encountered in your long, distinguished careers as Federal Officers of the law. What we do pushes the boundaries of the mundane in every way you can imagine. Every time one of our men laces up his or her boots, there's a distinct possibility we'll have to bring 'em back in a casket. We offer no apologies for the nature of our work, or the means and conduct with which we must deploy to see that it gets done. But I'll let the Chief Superintendent walk you through the nuances of Steelhead Operations. For now, just try to relax and enjoy the flight."

Jason was enthralled in a deep train of thought and it was written in bold letters across is chiseled Scottish-Canadian face. He wore his concern, anxiety and home sickness like a young boy on his first bus ride to school.

Kyle Reid, his long-time best friend, close colleague and his partner for the next six months, leaned forward sitting across from him in the aircraft. They were both Thirty-two year old men; both husbands and fathers. Their wives and daughters were best of friends as well. The shared perception that they were brothers, more than friends.

"Try not to look so nervous, buddy. Six short months of...who knows what," Kyle tried to comfort him, chuckling as he attempted to ponder what adventures and mishaps may await them. "And we'll be right back home with our girls again." Kyle drew a breath, thinking for a moment as he tried to quell an invasion of the same feelings Jason was grappling with.

"It's a good thing, bro. Even if it's gonna suck," he said with a grin, making Jason smile as he shook his head.

"I miss 'em already, man," Jason mumbled, closing his eyes to recollect their faces. Elizabeth's embrace. Hailey's smile.

McCreedy observed them both with a mild compassion that was stifled by his professional coarseness. He felt compelled to give them both a fair warning, even if they had already suspected what was coming.

"You seem like a couple of standup guys. I guess you wouldn't be here if you weren't. But let me tell you right now, so that you're ready for whatever happens down there... You're coming into our home, our family as a pair of outsiders and informants for the white hats in Yellowknife... Don't expect these men or women to hold a door for you, sit next you to eat, or ask about your families back home..."

Each man wore his own thought process on his face. McCreedy had really framed up what they had already anticipated. Nothing about the next six months was going to be easy.