All four of the envoys reached the hotel at different times. The town they all had to meet in was called Los Inocentes (the innocents in Spanish). Los Inocentes was not a very well looked after, most of the buildings were old and decrepid. A lot of those buildings were abandoned, dead trees littered the sidewalk and very few people roamed the streets. The streets were deserted and dust was in the air. Life for the citizens of Los Inocentes (250 at the last count) could not be easy, work was hard to find and even more difficult to keep once you had found it.
The first to arrive was Andrew Lake, he went to the reception desk and asked if there was a room booked in his name, he found it a bit difficult to communicate to the receptionist (a young Mexican lad), because he (Andrew), did not speak Spanish and the Mexican spoke very little English. After two or three minutes he managed to point out to the room that was in the register and make it clear to the boy that it was he who the room was booked for. He went to his room (number 14) and unpacked.
When everything was unpacked and put away Andrew laid on his bed thinking of that night, the night two weeks ago when all his beliefs about the police force were shattered. Thomas O'Connor (Andrews partner) and Andrew were called to the scene of a shooting. They were the first to arrive. The night was cold and there was a fog slowly creeping in. The caller had not given a name or address, but had said that there was a fire fight in the middle of the street. The street in question was in Hells Kitchen, the worst part of San Francisco. All the pimps, drug dealers and prostitutes hung out there, all in all, not a nice place to live. In one of the side alleys there was a body, over the body draped in the shadows was a shape. It was dark and difficult to judge the build of the person. It was crouching over the body, the shape straightened itself, looked at the two officers and turned to run.
Andrew took one step forward, raised his badge and began to shout a warning that he was a police officer and that the figure should stop, but even before the first word passed his lips a loud crack erupted from beside him, a flash of light filled the area for a split second, and then there was silence. The shape that was running bucked in half and a grunt emitted from it, the shape hit the floor and bounced once, then slid to a stop.
Thomas walked over to the body, it was the body of a young boy. The boy was face down in a puddle. With his boot, Thomas flicked the body over. The bullet had penetrated through the back of the skull and had taken half of his head off. Andrew walked over to where the corpse lay. He looked up, his partner was staring down at the body of the young boy. Even though half of his head was missing it was easy to tell that the boy was no more that 13 years old. Thomas knelt down, he put his left hand in his pocket and pulled out a small calibre revolver. He pointed the gun up to the sky and fired a shot. Andrew stood dead still, shock began to crept over his whole body, Nausea was building up in his stomach, and quickly crawling up.
Andrew ran to the back of his squad car and threw up, just beside it. When he returned the boy had the gun in his hand and the other police cars arrived on the scene. The moment the other police cars got to the scene Andrew knew he should keep his mouth shut, and wait. He has now been waiting for the past two weeks. Thinking. Soon he must say his peace and that will be the worst part of the whole experience, for him anyway.
What would he say when he was called up to testify in the trial of his partner. Would he tell the truth, or would he lie. Either way his life in the police force would be finished. If he told the truth about that night, no police officer on the force would want him as a partner, and worst of all they would not trust him, and even maybe one day when he needed back up it would not turn up, it would not be the first time that that had happened. But if he were to lie, that for him would be worse. The death of that young black boy would be swept under the carpet, his family would be heartbroken. They would think that their son was murderer, most probably in a street gang or something similar, and that he would have killed a policeman to keep himself out of jail. This was one enigma that he wished he did not need to sort out.
Next to arrived was Harley. He reached the hotel approximately twenty minutes after Andrew. He, also checked in and went to is room (number 15). The first thing he did when he got into his room was unpack his portable lap top computer that he always carried with him when he went on a trip of this nature, and began to type. He would always write a diary about what had happened to him, this helped in the plots of books. Characters would be more realistic and so would places. And you never know, maybe a best seller could just be a few days away.
Harley had a vivid imagination, if he let it, it could run riot, so he always tried it to keep it under control. His writing was good, it scared people, which was what his writing was all about. Though he tried not to think about it, he knew that the things that he wrote about happened to people for real, which this is what really scared him. The thought that people he had met, or might even meet later in life experienced what where in those reports at S.A.V.E HQ, made his blood turn to ice. Not that Harley was new to the S.A.V.E business, he had had his own fair deal of experiences with the unknown, though he tried not to publish his own experiences, though he did write them down. This manuscript was with his family lawyer, his instructions were that if anything was to happen to him, or if he was to go missing for more than 6 months he would publish the work.
This large diary told of over twenty encounters with the unknown. Creatures varied from Ghosts to Vampires, and all of them where as accurate as he could remember. This work would be his crowning glory, though it would not be published until he died. This saved him from any embarrassment by the press, for the 'hero' of the story had his name, and was exactly the same as he was.
Time magazine once did an article on Harley, they said that his writing was on the level of great fiction writers such as H.P Lovecraft, Edgar Allan Poe and Stephen King. To this he replied "Tell me, how can my writing be on a par with them, if they all wrote fiction, and all I deal only in Facts." Time's reply was that not only could he write a good story, but he was also "a little kooky".
Shortly Jack appeared. He was tired and dirty from the taxi ride from the airport. He did not have a lot of luggage, but then again he did not have a lot of clothes. This was the first time back to Mexico in two years. He and his family had to leave Mexico after Jack was witness to the murder of his father. The assassin that claimed his father's life was a well known Mafia boss. The fact that it was he who pulled the trigger and not one of his henchmen was what surprised the authorities. Usually Mafia like that get other people to do their dirty work for them.
At first Jack gad been eager to testify. But after two years of living a life like he had he was not sure anymore. Where all the threats to him and his family worth all the hassle, it wouldn't bring his father back, and if he really wanted to avenge his fathers death he had all the power in the world to do it.
When Jack was about 12 years old, his father took him camping in some mountains by the village he lived in. No one ever passed the foothills of the mountains, folk lore of the area told of a coven of wizards that had lived up in the mountains many years ago, it also said that these mages had terrible wars, magical wars. The magic is supposed to still be around and evil creatures are said to roam the mountains looking for human flesh to feed on.
Jack was very frightened the first night there. He new the story's and he believe in them. Many people from the village had disappeared over the years and none of them were ever seen again. In the morning, jacks father was up early. He roused Jack and made him get ready. As Jack unravelled himself from the sleeping bag that he had cowered in all night, he saw for the first time the mountain and its surrounding.
They were less than half way up the mountain, the grass was still green and the trees were still as large as they were around the Village. Two to three hundred feet up the mountain the grass seemed to stop. A rugged terrain of rocks and infertile earth lay past the grass rim. The ground had a slight tint of colour in it. It was not brown as it should be, but slightly purple in tinge. The village looked minute this far away, and at this moment in time he wished he was back there now, in the confront of his own bed, but he wasn't, he was with his father, exploring. He, Jack Blaze would be the first in his class to have ventured this far up the mountain, and survive.
He felt a slap on his back, which brought him back from the daydream immediately. His father was standing over him. He looked down, smiled and began to walk towards the desolate place. This made Jack panic. His father was walking into " El lugar the los Magos" (the wizards place), no one was allowed there with out permission from the wizards, but they were all dead so you could not get their permission. Event Mother nature was not allowed to venture into the sacred ground that they marked out. No plant or animal would dwell there and now his father was about to step into it.
He had to stop him before it was too late. He began to run after him, screaming and shouting. His father took no notice, he was still walking, and he picked up a little speed. Jack caught up with him just as he reached the rim of vegetation. His hand went out to grab hold of his fathers hand. Before he realised, Jack was tumbling through the air, a sharp pain in his left foot were he had kicked a small rock. Jack was unhurt but a bit disorientate. He shook the dizziness off and looked at his father. His father was still standing at the verge of the grass. At that moment was when it dawned on him, he was no longer on the grass he was in the wizards place and he was still alive.
"Superstition my son", said his father also stepping into the baron wasteland that was the wizards place. "Just nonsense and old wives tales, though do not get me wrong, magic does exist, and we the enlightened can tap into it, if we know how".
Jack's father went on to explain what powers he possessed, and that he was a "wizard". Jack to begin found this difficult to believe, until his father proved the fact through levitating a large rock that weighed about 6 tons. His father went on to tell him that he too should have the power also. "The magic runs in the blood, my son. I have the power, you have the power, your children will also be powerful, but be warned. The ability decreases down the line. Our for-fathers were very powerful men. The probably still are. So be careful who you give this power to."
His father told him about the instruments of his magic. That he would need a focus point from which to cast his magic. This focus should always be the same and no one else should attempt to use it. He said it could be anything, a flower, a coin or anything else he wanted. Jack looked around and picked up a small rock. The rock was a purple colour with red veins running through it. His father approved. He should have something from the wizards place, it would be a mark of respect.
Last to arrive was Zachary Breeze. He booked into the hotel and went to his room. Outside the sun was just beginning to set over the horizon. He laid out his thing ready for the morning, and went to bed. He had had a hard day, the drive was very tiring and he had things on his mind. The journey had been rough and he did not stop for sleep. He booked in and went to bed.
Sleep came to him quite quickly, the sleep took over his tired body and subdued it. Slowly the dreams came to him. It were the dreams that had come to him every night for the last 15 years. It began peacefully enough.
He stood alone, the church was deserted and dark, the mass had finished and he was clearing up. Only a few candle burned at the altar, the only other light was the glare of a large full moon that overpowered the whole sky. It's light hit the land like a far off spot light. The wind blew softly the half bear autumn trees. The leafs that were still there rustled and some fell to the ground. Far off a dog gave a desperate howl to the moon. Everything in the church was peaceful and quiet.
The dog howl got deeper, louder and closer. Within seconds the howl bounced off all the walls and echoed around. Zak brought his hands up and covered his ears. The howl hurt him from inside. All over, it was like something inside wanted to get out. The rage inside him built up, he could feel a scream rising from inside him. When the scream broke, it was more a howl than a scream. His hands begin to transform into large white paws, his face began to stretch, the ligaments cracked, the muscles stretched and the bones warped. The agonising transformation went on for over a minute, and then, bliss.
All the senses he possessed were heightened, smell, taste, sight, hearing and a strange sense that he never knew he possessed. The feeling, for that was all it was, of not being alone. He whirled round, behind him stood a man. The man, was looking at him. He was in the shadows so it was difficult to see what he looked like, He was tall, and wore a hat. His eyes seemed to pierce the gloom, and they were staring at Zak. The man stayed in the shadows but he spoke to Zak, his voice resounded in the empty church.
"You now know what you are my child, use it and you will gain great power, forsake it and you will gain nothing but death and misery, Use your powers, and use them wisely".
And there is where the dream always ended.
Zak woke up in a cold sweat, the time was 3 am. The rising damp heat of the New Mexico night and the dream had brought him round. He sat on his bead for a minute trying to remember the dream, but as always, it was gone. Zak began to relax, a light tip-taping drew his attention. The noise was coming from the window. He got up, put on a bathrobe and walked to the window. With out thinking he opened the window and stuck his head out. Outside the moon sat high in the dark sky, very few clouds littered the heavens this evening. The stars shone bright and the rain fell down. The rain was light, yet it seemed to cool the night tremendously. Zak put on some clothes and went out to enjoy the rain. Outside the rain was falling steady, he walked over to a lamp post and lent on it. For five minutes he enjoyed the rain, he relished the coolness of it over his skin and the fact that no one else in the hotel seemed to have noticed it. He decided to go back in to his room, when something hit him on the back. The object was not very large and yet it seemed to hit solidly. He reached behind him and pulled what ever it was around to the light. Zak's fist was clenched, inside was something small, living, hairy and wriggling around. He opened his fist and had a look. The caterpillar was about 1 inch long. It had large red hairs protruding from its purple body. Its eyes were wide and very red, it's mouth seemed to grin, and from under it minute lips teeth shone in the light of the lamppost. Half way up it's body a small pair of arms hang loosely by it's side. All in all it was the most ugliest thing that Zak had ever seen, and the worst thing was the horrid smile.
The creature reared up and then clamped it's small teeth into Zak's hand. As a nervous reaction he slapped both hands together like if he was trying to kill a wasp. When he opened his hands again the caterpillar was splattered in the inside of his palm, a few seconds later it disintegrated.
Nervously he looked up as if to check that there were no more of these evil little creatures around. The rain was still falling, and falling much harder now. By the light he noticed that what was hitting him was not rain, it was more of the caterpillars. Hundreds where falling from the sky, all over him the creatures fell and bit, a scream left his lips and he ran for cover. As he was running he beat off as many as he could, but they still fell. When he entered the hotel he was still covered with them, again he screamed. He thrashed around and beat the creatures off him, he was fighting a loosing battle.
Jack woke up, he had never been a heavy sleeper and a noise had disturbed him. Again the noise came, a scream from down stairs. He threw on some clothes picked up his flick knife and rock, and went down to investigate.
The hotel was empty except for the four envois. No on else heard the screams, or if they did no on else cared. Andrew also woke up, not as quickly as Jack but he to got dressed quickly and went to investigate. When he poked his head around the door he saw some strange things. Firstly, there was a pries writhing around on the floor screaming in agony, and secondly was a young man leaping down the stairs towards him with a rock in one hand and a flick knife in the other.
While all this was happening Harley was trying his best to get out of his bed and into his wheel chair, though he never was very quick when this was concerned.
Andrew drew his gun and began to run towards the priest pointing the gun at the young man he shouted for him to stop and drop his knife. Jack did not take notice, he was now quite close to Zak. He raised the stone high in the air and brought it crashing down on the priest scull. At the sight of this Andrew pulled the trigger of his gun and sent a bullet flying towards Jack.
The second the stone hit the priests head the priest fell unconscious. The little creatures that where crawling all over him flew off his body and impacted on the wall. and most impressively of all Andrews bullet stopped in mid air.
Andrew was stunned, he had never seen anything like this before, the young man was uninjured and the bullet was still in mid air. Behind him a door opened and the whir of an electric motor caught his attention. Harley was slowly making his way to the centre of the commotion. Andrew let him pass.
As Harley reached the bullet he tried to touch the invisible wall that seemed to be holding the bullet in mid air, nothing, not even a slightest tingle. Then he looked at the bullet, looked closer this time. The bullet was made of silver. He paused and all of a sudden began to laugh.
"Well", he said. "So you two are my partners in this mission. Let me introduce myself, Harley Stone. S.A.V.E envoy."
Jack and Andrew looked at each other and then at Harley, and it was then that they realised what the cripple had said. The team was all together now, all, that is but one. That last envoy was not with them yet, but they were sure that he would come round, eventually.