Post by infidelzombie on Feb 15, 2011 15:07:04 GMT -7
The sun was setting over the coast, the sky a vibrant sanguine hue that set the ocean on fire with light. Anatole was standing on the balcony of a villa. The whitewashed building set on the beach, indeed on the very coast of Senegal, in it's cultural and economic heart of Dakar. West Africa. Nursing his Johnnie Walker black label, and smoking a cigarette he stared out over the vast horizon. That empty expanse of calm ocean dazzling like molten gold in the suns dying light. It wasn't dissimilar from the flatlands of his childhood. Genetically modified wheat swaying in the baking afternoon sun. And really everything had all started there. Everything he was he had become back there in Dakar
Anatole Dupre had been bitten as a child by a puff adder. A deathly venomous serpent whose bite could kill a full grown man. Anatole did not die. For three agony ridden days he slept on his death bed, wracked by fevered dreams and visions. On the third night, his fever had broken. Everything had lead up to here and now from then. That had been the day he found his calling. That had been his Awakening. What had followed had been a gradual discovery of his talents, first by his self, then by his parents and teachers, and then by his employers. It had started as a simple matter. First there where the dreams, they weren't so strange. They were like the ones he had when he was bitten, but they lacked the fevered intensity and disjointed flow. These were clear, and cold but no less intense. And always the serpent was there. In one dream it would be a mighty river, it's azure coils streaming across dry arid lands. Other times it would slide through underground warrens, others still it was in the wind. A sinuous current of air that breezed through the world. It had spoken to him, shown him wonders and horrors; shown him it's secrets and his own. Anatole Dupre had found his mentor. The serpent Usaz.
It had been a long and arduous process, learning his magick from the spirit and trying to keep it from prying eyes at the same time. It would have been an easy thing to abuse as well. But as always the Serpent led him from that path. Power wasn't measured in pyrotechnics, or in such unsubtle, brute strength. If any totem had adapted to the current age of misinformation, technology and science, it was the Snake. More than any other, it knew that true power lay in knowledge. An adage as true now as it had ever been.
He was working for the government of Senegal now. A corporation had expressed interest in him when his awakening became somewhat more open to the world. But they had wanted some one more disciplined in his theorems, more predictable in his spell slinging. But if there was one thing Anatole was not, it was a wage slave. He did his magic his way. He had been approached soon after by a federal agent, given an address to show up to if he wanted work and that had been that. A year later and here he was once again.
Anatole stubbed his cigarette out against the banister surrounding the patio as the door to the villa opened behind him. Turning around slowly, he took another draught of his scotch on the rocks as two casually dressed civilians where escorted out by another two armed men in suits not dissimilar to Anatole's own. He cringed inwardly at the sight of the two kneeling on the ground. Man and wife, a Mr. And Mrs. Svali to be exact. The woman was openly crying while her husband glared at Anatole, his jaw set.
The shaman set his glass down next to the still smoldering cigarette.
“Mr. And Mrs. Svali, my name is agent Dupre and I'm here on behalf of the Senegal Security Service. First and foremost let me clear any illusions you may have to how we will proceed here. You will not be given a trail, or lawyer. You will not plead your case, and you are guilty till proven innocent. That, consequentially will be my job.”
“And what are being accused of?” The man growled out, his eyes dark and wandering for an escape route. The snake knew cornered prey when it saw it.
“You stand accused of treason and sedition against the state. You have sold state secrets to various corporations in return for NuYen and favours, and have planned to flee the state under corporate security. As such you have been deemed a threat to the existence and stability of Senegal and scheduled for termination.”
“W-what about proof! You just can't kill two people without proof.” The woman choked, tears staining her make-up.
“Absolutely correct Mrs. Svali. However as I said, that's where I come in.” Anatole offered with a wan smile before stepping forward and grabbing onto either side of the mans head, forcing the kneeling official to look him in the eyes. The mans jaw went slack and the woman screamed as Anatoles shamanic mask took effect. His eyes yellowing to a dark gold and his pupils narrowing to slits as he rummaged about Mr. Svali's memories.
Not long later he released the mana sustaining the spell and nodded to his two compatriots as he turned away to look at the sunset one last time. His glasses darkening to protect his vision for the ravages of the suns final rays. Two shots rang out with the finality of a closed book. Anatole stood there a moment longer and finished his scotch.
Anatole Dupre had been bitten as a child by a puff adder. A deathly venomous serpent whose bite could kill a full grown man. Anatole did not die. For three agony ridden days he slept on his death bed, wracked by fevered dreams and visions. On the third night, his fever had broken. Everything had lead up to here and now from then. That had been the day he found his calling. That had been his Awakening. What had followed had been a gradual discovery of his talents, first by his self, then by his parents and teachers, and then by his employers. It had started as a simple matter. First there where the dreams, they weren't so strange. They were like the ones he had when he was bitten, but they lacked the fevered intensity and disjointed flow. These were clear, and cold but no less intense. And always the serpent was there. In one dream it would be a mighty river, it's azure coils streaming across dry arid lands. Other times it would slide through underground warrens, others still it was in the wind. A sinuous current of air that breezed through the world. It had spoken to him, shown him wonders and horrors; shown him it's secrets and his own. Anatole Dupre had found his mentor. The serpent Usaz.
It had been a long and arduous process, learning his magick from the spirit and trying to keep it from prying eyes at the same time. It would have been an easy thing to abuse as well. But as always the Serpent led him from that path. Power wasn't measured in pyrotechnics, or in such unsubtle, brute strength. If any totem had adapted to the current age of misinformation, technology and science, it was the Snake. More than any other, it knew that true power lay in knowledge. An adage as true now as it had ever been.
He was working for the government of Senegal now. A corporation had expressed interest in him when his awakening became somewhat more open to the world. But they had wanted some one more disciplined in his theorems, more predictable in his spell slinging. But if there was one thing Anatole was not, it was a wage slave. He did his magic his way. He had been approached soon after by a federal agent, given an address to show up to if he wanted work and that had been that. A year later and here he was once again.
Anatole stubbed his cigarette out against the banister surrounding the patio as the door to the villa opened behind him. Turning around slowly, he took another draught of his scotch on the rocks as two casually dressed civilians where escorted out by another two armed men in suits not dissimilar to Anatole's own. He cringed inwardly at the sight of the two kneeling on the ground. Man and wife, a Mr. And Mrs. Svali to be exact. The woman was openly crying while her husband glared at Anatole, his jaw set.
The shaman set his glass down next to the still smoldering cigarette.
“Mr. And Mrs. Svali, my name is agent Dupre and I'm here on behalf of the Senegal Security Service. First and foremost let me clear any illusions you may have to how we will proceed here. You will not be given a trail, or lawyer. You will not plead your case, and you are guilty till proven innocent. That, consequentially will be my job.”
“And what are being accused of?” The man growled out, his eyes dark and wandering for an escape route. The snake knew cornered prey when it saw it.
“You stand accused of treason and sedition against the state. You have sold state secrets to various corporations in return for NuYen and favours, and have planned to flee the state under corporate security. As such you have been deemed a threat to the existence and stability of Senegal and scheduled for termination.”
“W-what about proof! You just can't kill two people without proof.” The woman choked, tears staining her make-up.
“Absolutely correct Mrs. Svali. However as I said, that's where I come in.” Anatole offered with a wan smile before stepping forward and grabbing onto either side of the mans head, forcing the kneeling official to look him in the eyes. The mans jaw went slack and the woman screamed as Anatoles shamanic mask took effect. His eyes yellowing to a dark gold and his pupils narrowing to slits as he rummaged about Mr. Svali's memories.
Not long later he released the mana sustaining the spell and nodded to his two compatriots as he turned away to look at the sunset one last time. His glasses darkening to protect his vision for the ravages of the suns final rays. Two shots rang out with the finality of a closed book. Anatole stood there a moment longer and finished his scotch.