Unfinished Business

[Strazio Rockwell]

Sore did not even begin to describe what Strazio felt as the morning sun fell upon his face and woke him. Every muscle felt as if it was drawn tight against his bones. Tender black bruises were scattered across his skin, giving him the appearance of some sickly leper. Most noticeable of all was the swollen gash on his forehead, where it had been dashed against a rock. Even a good night’s rest did little to relieve the pulsating headache which had made its home in his melon. Once again he had deferred the only guest bed in Rumford’s house to his apprentice, Gamzee Makara, and had instead chosen to sleep on the floor with little more than a pillow and a blanket. Strazio groaned and sat up, wincing as his stiff muscles were forced to move. He rubbed his hands together, massaging them and inspected the series of fresh burn marks they had acquired the night before. 

The defender of Darkshire stood and stretched. This wasn’t the first time he had woken up and felt like he had been hit with battering ram, and it wouldn’t be the last. In fact Strazio’s life had been little more than a series of painful events, and he had become quite familiar with the sore mornings that often followed them. Hell he had developed an almost masochistic relationship with the bruises and lacerations he would inevitably acquire during his lifetime. Every scar upon his body, and there was an almost innumerable amount of them, meant that he had survived and that his quest for revenge had not come to a premature end. So he revelled in the pain, for it meant that he was alive.

“Hey,” Strazio said and nudged his sleeping companion, “wake up, we’ve got work to do.” 

“But we just went to bed,” Gamzee groaned, “had some twisted dreams last night brother.”

“Meet me downstairs,” Strazio said, “we’re going to continue your training.” Without waiting for another word the mage turned his back on Gamzee and left the room. Perhaps he was being a tad too harsh with his apprentice? That certainly wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed his mind. He thought back to Valerie’s training and just how laxed and carefree it was. Val emphasized the need for rest and relaxation as if were as important as breathing and eating. That leisurely pace was what Strazio hated the most about his own mentor. That glacial way of progression irked him in a way that few things could, and he’d be damned if he were to put his own student through the same agony.

Strazio made his way downstairs and was not surprised to see Rumford already awake. Rika, Rumford’s adopted daughter, stood next to her father and clutched his hand. She looked as though she had been crying. “Ah, good, you’re awake,” Rumford said upon noticing Strazio’s presence, “you look horrible.”

“Yeah, last night wasn’t a fun one, what’s going on?” Strazio asked, glancing towards the distraught girl.

Rumford looked down at her and then back to Strazio, “our scouts have brought back reports of an army mobilizing to siege Darkshire, they’ll be here within a day.”

The words hung in the air like a bad stench. Strazio looked out the window as if he would be able to see the approaching threat itself. Darkshire was alway under siege, but this time it was different. An almost imperceptible ounce of fear danced between Rumford’s words. This wasn’t some random aggression thrown at the walls of Darkshire, this was something greater. Strazio grabbed at his necklace, feeling the cold metal of Darkshire’s crest between his fingers. “I’ve been ordered to muster my troops and make our way to the front gate,” Rumford said, “we’ll be the first line of defense should they breach the walls.”

“Daddy,” Rika said, pulling her father close, “I don’t want you to go.”

“I know you don’t sweetheart, but daddy will be okay, besides I won’t be alone,” Rumford said and crouched down next to her. Strazio said nothing and watched as the girl and her father exchanged whispers. Behind him he heard Gamzee whistling a jaunty tune as he descended the stairs. Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs Gamzee slung an arm around his mentor’s shoulder and spoke, “soooo, what’s the muthafuckin’ plan for today, you gonna teach me how to sling some wicked sorcery?”

“Change of plans, Darkshire’s under attack,” Strazio replied, swatting away Gamzee’s arm.

“You serious? That is not righteous in the least my magical brother.”

Rumford hugged his daughter for a few moments before standing up. Tears streamed down her face. Strazio sighed and turned away from them. “I’ve got to get going sweetheart,” Rumford spoke, “I promise I’ll be back.”

“Yo, don’t you worry little one,” Gamzee said, crouching down to Rika’s level, “Straz and I will keep your papa safe.”

Without waiting for another exchange Strazio walked towards the front door and left. He stepped outside and was greeted by the crisp morning wind. He raised his hood and began walking towards the central building in Darkshire. Gamzee followed after him, jogging to catch up. “Strazio, why’d you bail out like that?” The troll asked. 

“We don’t have a lot of time, and I’m not going to waste it,” he replied, “I was hoping to rest for a day or two before doing this, but just in case things go sour I’ve got to find Shang and set this thing straight.”

“Oh right, the motherfucking book thing, yeah,” Gamzee said and bit his lip, “you don’t think that can wait?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“You really, really sure?”

“Gamzee,” Strazio growled.

“Just making sure you’re sure, ‘cause it seems like a bad time to go pick a fight,” Gamzee said.

“I’m not picking a fight, and he’s the one that fucking started it anyways,” Strazio responded.

“Okay, but are you sure?”

Strazio did not reply. He gritted his teeth and shook his head. Ahead of them the capitol building of Darkshire loomed, its stone architecture towering above the other structures. There was no guarantee that Shang was in there, but the mage did not know where else to look. He stormed through the building, flashing his defender’s crest at anyone who batted an eyelash at him. Fury overtook him and he was almost in a sprint as he charged through the winding corridors. He knew not where the sorcerer's office was, and eventually resorted to shouting out Shang’s name as he passed from hallway to hallway. There would be no hiding from the mage’s search.

[Shang Tsung]

For the longest time, the world of the Pale Moors had been relatively stable.  Ever since the little tin boy had killed the upstart demon and the mayor had been ousted, the overcast realm of rolling hills and once verdant farmlands had experienced what amounted to ‘normality.’  Adventurers had come and gone—some of them with higher profiles than others—but there had been nothing that neared the scale of early incidents.  Shang Tsung, Atelos, Dobson, and the others who managed the town had experienced little to break them from their routines.  The clash in the Nexus and the sorcerer’s experiments with the Power Ring felt like blurs in the rearview mirror in lieu of recent events.

“An army?”  The sorcerer muttered as he looked at a topographic map of the region around Darkshire. He glanced up from the little display as he waited for confirmation from the men on the other side of the table.

“No,” Atelos grumbled.  “Just a bunch of demons and ghouls and blackguards marching over here to sample the newest ales from THE Pub.”

Try as he might, Shang couldn’t prevent himself from flashing a faint smirk as he leaned closer to the map and tapped a finger on one of the little stone miniatures that marked one of the garrisons at the walls.  Since the coup, Darkshire had steadily grown stable and stronger, but the town had yet to shake off all of its figurate demons.  To force the citizenry to contend with an assault by literal demons would be an ordeal in and off itself.  “All the garrisons are stocked and staffed? Have we placed a call to make sure Abraham's in town?”  He asked as he looked up at Atelos.

“Aye,” the Spartan responded as he picked up a piece of paper.  Despite the Grecian’s efforts to ‘get new-fangled,’ he often reverted to old reliables in high stress situations.  That was a blessing, because the last thing Shang, Dobson, Demetri, or anyone else needed at this moment was to have the Spartan breaking tablet computers.  “The only soldiers who are on leave are local, which means we’ll be able to round them up right before we announce the oncoming assault to the populace. And the old man is here."  

“And the non-locals?”  Shang asked as he turned to look toward Dobson.  “All those stalwart primes who pledged their fealty to Darkshire?  Are they in touch?”

“We’ve done what we can,” Dobson remarked, although the look on his face betrayed something beneath the surface.  Frustration?  The sorcerer wasn’t that in-touch with the military side of things since ensuring that the Spartan took over that department, so he didn’t know just how many primes visited the town with noble intentions.  “We can only await any arrivals in the calm before the storm.”

Shang suppressed another scowl as he walked away from the topographical map.  “Any estimates on the size of this army?”

Atelos shook his head.  “Reports mention there are some… unsavory elements, so we should expect that.”

“We should have retaliated sooner,” the sorcerer muttered as he looked at a yellowed map of the Moors that hung on the far wall.  “We got lazy sitting here trying to clear away the dust and grim in these walls.  Had we gone on the offensive, we could have avoided a battle at out front door.”

“It’s too late for what could have been,” Dobson shoot back.  “All we can focus on is what’s right in front of us, and that’s an army of ghouls and monsters led by one of the count’s primes.”

The sorcerer reached into his pocket and glanced down at the silver ring.  The emblem in the center glowed with a faint shade of orange as he mulled over a few thoughts.  Looking back up at his colleagues, Shang smiled and returned his focus to the topographical map.  “Let’s crunch numbers.”

***

With the meeting nearly at its end, Shang looked forward to retiring to his chambers.  No one seemed to be quite sure when this army would arrive on the horizon, which meant any remaining time had to be maximized.  Shang wanted to ensure that all his own personal business was in order before the situation went south.  

Unlike the previous attacks or the sporadic incident on the walls, this would require his utmost attention.  Atelos, bless his thick and unyielding skull, would need every warm body at the defense of Darkshire.  Even if this enemy force could be defeated without heavy losses, it was important that the town show unchallenged unity in the face of aggression.

They’ll need to be unified if we’re to have any luck with the next step…

“Shang!”

Although the voice was muffled through at least two doors, Shang knew who was screaming for him.  There was no such individual in the Omniverse who could condense all that malice into just one word.

“What was that?”  One of the triumvirs remarked as everyone turned to the door.  

The sorcerer held up a hand to prevent anyone from moving toward the exit of the planning room.  “A friend… I’ll go chat with you.  You all finish up in here and leave the report for me.”

With a scowl on his face, Shang exited through the heavy door and quickly passed through the adjacent waiting room.  As he stepped out into the hallway, he turned and made eye contact just as the white-haired man was opening his mouth to shout once more.

“Hello, Strazio,” the sorcerer spoke as he put his right hand into his pocket and slipped the Power Ring onto his middle finger.  “What brings you to this part of town?”

[Strazio Rockwell]

There he was, Shang Tsung, the most recent target of Strazio’s boundless well of hatred. For a moment the mage stood still, his mind smoldering and fuming over every transgression Shang had brought against him. Strazio was a dog that had actually caught a car, and he wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. If it was anywhere outside of Darkshire the hothead would have attacked him on sight. Despite their location Strazio fought back the urge to tackle Shang and smash his head against the floor. Sparks danced around his body and he ground his clenched teeth. With a voice that barely obscured his fury he said, “you know exactly why I’m here sorcerer.”

“Oh, pray tell,” Shang responded with a smirk, “I’m afraid you’ll have to elaborate, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Strazio’s eyebrows raised and every muscle in his body became tense. Electricity crackled across his pale flesh and he offered Shang the most withering glare he could muster. With a sudden surge of movement Strazio stepped forward. Acting fast Gamzee grabbed his master’s wrist, stopping his advance and turning Strazio’s rage impotent. The mage growled, cussed, and tugged at Gamzee’s vice-like grip. After a few seconds of fruitless thrashing Strazio pointed an accusatory finger at Shang. Acting like a reverse lightning rod the digit pulsed with energy and every few seconds a sheath of collected sparks would be shucked from their home and evaporate in the open air. 

“You, you, you,” Strazio said to Shang through clenched teeth.

Gamzee said, “come on, use your words bro.”

The mage shot gamzee a glare before turning back to Shang. “You fuck,” he said with such a vile emphasis on the insult that it seemed to hang in the air for a few seconds. This outburst seemed to dull Strazio’s edge but he still spoke with so much venom that he could taste it, “I’m here for my books, the ones that you had stolen from me in the Colosseum, return them and I won’t have to crack your head open.”

His previous battles with the sorcerer played through his mind, and although he meant what he said there was a subtle hint of fear in his voice. Shang was everything that he was not, skilled, collected, and calculating. This was how Strazio imagined his nemesis Damien, and that frightened him. It wasn’t death that frightened him, especially not in a place like the Omniverse. No, it was inferiority that plagued his thoughts, the very real possibility that no matter how hard he tried -- no matter how angry he became -- that Shang, and consequently Damian, were walls that could not be shattered. That his unfocused shotgun-like power was no match for the precision and lethality of the sorcerer’s rifle.

[Shang Tsung]

Strazio Rockwell.
 
The white-haired, crazy-faced bundle of human rage was a strange and bewildering site to see in the hallway of Darkshire’s town hall.
 
Unfortunately for Strazio, the sorcerer had more pressing matters than his past with the man.
 
With a faint smile, Shang Tsung held up his hands.  “I didn’t steal anything, Strazio Rockwell.  I did win some pieces of literature in a sanctioned bout, if that’s what you’re talking about.”  The sorcerer watched the other man’s eyes, and he saw that twitch—that little indicator that he’d found his mark.  For his part, Strazio didn’t try to bash anyone’s face against the wall, and it may have been a hand on his shoulder that distracted him long enough to allow the white-haired warrior to compose himself.
 
“Books.”  Strazio repeated.
 
“I think you can buy the one online,” Shang replied nonchalantly as he reached down to his side and pulled up a tablet.  He looked at the screen for a moment before nodding his head and holding it up for Strazio to see.  The Defender of Darkshire scowled as he snatched the piece of tech from the sorcerer and looked at what was displayed.
 
The sorcerer had pulled up an Omazon.com book listing.  “Fifty Shades of White – A Rockwell Story.  With a forward by Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson ... The fuck is this?"
 
Shang grinned wider.  “I was so compelled by your story that I just had to sell it to the Omniverse.  Don’t worry, all the proceeds have gone to local charities.  The sickly children of Saint Argento's Oprhanage loved their warm food and bedding.  You should get yourself a copy… it’s a best-seller.”
 
The sorcerer’s account caused Gamzee’s features to twist up into confusion.  “He sold you journal to get blankets for orphans… the fuck is this guy?”
 
“An unimaginable bastard,” Strazio growled.
 
At that, Shang Tsung flashed a little smile.  “You other book’s not mine to give, Strazio, it belongs to Darkshire.  And unless you’ve been under a rock, you must know that there’s a small army marching this way.  There are more pressing concerns than your ego at stake here.
 
“After all, Strazio Rockwell, think of the children.”

[Strazio Rockwell]

Strazio’s gut tightened. There was a pressure in his chest building up like a coiled spring. Not only had Shang read his journal, but he went ahead and published it to the masses. The more he thought about it the tighter the knot in his chest became. Gamzee placed a hand on his master’s shoulder, hoping to calm his furious teacher. After what was only a few seconds, but felt like an eternity to Rockwell the levy that was holding back the torrential storm of his rage began to crack. In one glorious outburst that scratched his throat and reverberated throughout the compound Strazio Rockwell, Defender of Darkshire, declared, “fuck the goddamned children!”

“Woah, harsh my dude,” Gamzee observed.

“Indeed,” Shang added, and was about to add some more, but was interrupted.

“Enough,” Strazio shouted, “enough of this you silver-tongued thief, you did not win anything from me, but you did steal my property, and you will return it to me or so help me Omni I will obliterate you.”

His voice shook with indignation, his entire body quivered in spite. The pure audacity that was presented before him sent shivers of hatred through his skull. A memory, not forgotten, but long since catalogued away resurfaced in Strazio’s mind. Gilgamesh, the now deposed king of New Babylon, carried an arrogance similar in nature to that of Shang’s, except Strazio knew from first hand experience that Shang’s arrogance was no mere bluster. Those eyes that made their home in the sorcerer’s skull were perfect windows into the man’s lethality. And while that aura of lethality frightened Strazio he was far too pissed to give a single fuck. Continuing his cascade of threats and exclamations Strazio once again opened his mouth.

“And even if the Necronomicon belonged to Darkshire, which it does not, I’m the only one here familiar with its use,” Strazio continued his voice dripping with condescension, “so it would make sense that I would be the one to wield it in the coming battle.”