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{{Yes!!! biggrin I LOOOVE this story! It's one of my favorites! Whoever joins, you won't regret it at all! Some come on, people! XD}}

Almost one hundred miles away, another soul stood out in the night, absorbing the smells and sounds around him. His home here was no castle, nor a quaint little college. His home was built among the towering trees that were the symbol of Dunlae.

Though he was a citizen of Fae by birth, and a Captain of the UA by loyalty, his wife's home was here. And so, for the moment, was he.

Unlike another figure who welcomed the night, there was nothing slim about this man's figure, and no scars marred his face, though a few were prominent on his arms and chest. It was a point of pride that there were none on his back.

He was a tall, imposing figure in both darkness and in the light, with skin the color of rich, black coffee. His dark eyes were known to ice over when he was angry, and to melt when he held his child. He was a man of few words and a booming laugh, of large hands and slow grins.

His thoughts right now were, not of war, but of his family who slept on the other side of the terrace door. They had come back, after months of going into a hiding of sorts on an island off the eastern coast of the continent, giving Deserae time to recover after she'd been attacked by one of the king's men. He'd lost the unborn child that would've been his son, but he hadn't lost his wife. Over the past few weeks he'd learned how to be content with that.

He would've spared his wife such pain. Had it been possible, he'd have taken her place in a heartbeat, taking a knife in the gut himself rather than watch it plunge into his Deserae's flesh. But despite the power he had, turning back time was beyond his capabilities.

He constantly had to control the urge to just scoop up his family and hide them away, until this endless war was over. But Deserae, his fiery little hellcat, was not one to be hidden in a closet while others fought her battles. And his Piper, his sweet baby girl...He couldn't bare to send her away. Deserae had suggested it, after the accident. She had suggested giving their child away, to keep her safe.

But he wouldn't have it. His eyes hardened a bit, his hands gripping the terrace railing as he stared up at the stars. He would give her the world on a platinum platter if it's what she wanted. But he couldn't, wouldn't give her that. James had already taken his family from him once. He was damned if he'd do it again.

King O'Malley stood there, tense as a breeze tousled curling black hair that was always just a little bit too long. And as his resolve on that matter hardened, he heard the faint cry of a young child. His ears perked, for it was a cry he could've picked out in a room of toddlers.

His precious little Piper was awake. Pushing open the terrace door, he walked back inside, already murmuring as he passed quietly through the bedroom where his wife slept into the nursery.

Piper was there in her crib, standing up on shaky legs just learning to take a few unsteady steps, holding the top bar of the crib for support. Quiet little sobs came out of her mouth, glistening tears running down her cheeks.

When she spotted her father coming in, she let go of the crib, holding her arms out towards him. This action had her losing her balance, falling on her backside with a little thump. This brought on another sob, and her arms stretched up, her hands reaching out.

"There now, a ghra, my love. Did you have a bad dream?" With infinite care, King lifted Piper from the crib, cradling her in his arms, her wet cheek pressed against his neck. Her hands clenched into fists in his shirt, her sobs already quieting as King kissed the top of her head, rubbing her back.

"Da," She sobbed out, and King murmured nonsense to her, rocking her from side to side.

"There now, Daddy's right here. It's all right. Don't cry, baby girl." His huge hands were infinitely gentle as he held her, and as her sobs quieted, her thumb popping into her mouth in comfort, she nuzzled her cheek in his neck, her eyelids already drooping again, comforted by the gentle swaying motion of her father's rocking.

Though he knew Deserae was bound to say something about the importance of Piper sleeping in her own bed, King winked at Piper, carrying her into the bedroom where Deserae slept in the big bed.

"She'll understand, don't you think? Mama wouldn't want her baby crying all alone in another room." He murmured, and settled down in the bed with Piper sprawled atop his chest. With his hand rubbing up and down her tiny bag, she was lulled off to sleep, content to nod off with her father's warmth against her.

King turned his head to look at Deserae, his lips curving sheepishly. "She had a bad dream." He murmured, running his hand down her back again.

He looke at his wife, felt his heart warm, as it always did when he was around her. She was beautiful. Even half asleep, with her hair a riot of tangled curls over the pillow, she was beautiful. And she was his.

Not so long ago, she wouldn't have been smiling, wouldn't have spoken with such an easy tone. It had taken time, he knew, for her heart to heal from the loss of the child that would have been King Jr. But heal it had, and so had his.

He worried for her still, though. War was coming. Of that there was no question. And his woman wasn't one who would sit back and let the men do the fighting. She would fight, as she always did.

But it any dared hurt her...Well, it was best not to think on it. Right now, he would be fine to lay contently beside his wife, with his daughter sprawled over his chest.

"'Sneaky little man'?" He asked, quirking a brow, and then smiled at his wife.

"And it's sleep she'll have, safe and snug with her Ma and Da. Just this one night, my dear Deserae. Tomorrow she'll be back in her crib." He offered a grin, knowing she couldn't stay annoyed with him for long.

"She's not the only one who needs her sleep. Come here now, and we'll all get our rest." He wrapped his free arm around her waist, pulling her close.

{{Welcome, RogueDoll!! biggrin Really good post! I'll have a chance to respond to Mitsuki's post and yours later tonight when I'm at home. smile }}

King's head whipped to the side as well, and he immediately went on alert, sitting up and passing Piper to his wife.

"Yes, because all my friends come to the terrace past midnight for a visit. Don't know who it is...But I'll find out." He got out of bed, his arm transforming into the pulsing plasma cannon as he strode to the glass doors.

Aiming the cannon at the trespasser, he slowly slid open the glass pane, his eyes black as pitch.

"What business have you here?" He demanded, keeping his voice low.

{{ I always make it a point to assure people that are not familiar with my style, that my intro posts are always longer than my standard posts, so don't fear that every day will bring another Great Wall of Text. }}


The sun was still many hours from rising as a light rain fell across the northern reaches of Cartwell. Through the rain a single, fast moving light illuminated a path across an isolated road. Just behind the light, a motorcycle’s headlamp, a helmeted figure wiped at the water streaking across his visor. The dark colors of both bike and rider blended almost seamlessly into the surrounding night. So much so that only the bike’s light and the quiet rumble of the engine, dulled further by the moist air, gave away that anyone was there at all. In the distance, a collection of dim points of light alerted the rider that his destination was close. A few minutes later the rain had stopped and the bike and rider were pulling to a stop out front of a large and overly ostentatious manor home. The rider was met by four heavily armed men who surround him but do not yet raise their large automatic rifles, even before the bike’s engine has finished winding down.
Swinging a leg up and over, Darius stepped off and away from the large custom motorcycle. He took his time in removing his helmet, carefully setting it on the still warm seat of his bike. Running a gloved hand through his short black hair, he worked it from where it had become pressed to his head after the long ride. None of the armed guards around him had yet to say or do anything, but Darius frowned as he eyed the hard plastic case slanted at the back of his bike that held his rifle out of habit. He had been here enough times that everyone knew not to tamper with his gear, but he still felt the desire to tell those present not to touch anything. Letting his hands fall to his sides he gently brushed his fingers past the handles of his retracted tonfa that were holstered at each thigh. Without a word though, or any other glances, Darius strode towards the wide steps that led up to the large manor.
Inside, more guards awaited him. Two stood to either side of the main doors, and another pair flanked the base of the stairs at the far end of the entrance hall. A young woman with blond hair and deep green opened the door and greeted him as he entered. Without any more conversation though, she started off for the stairs, and Darius followed silently. Once atop the stairs, Darius spotted six more armed guards, these with smaller caliber weapons, though he noted that they were still all automatics. As he passed one of the guards standing against a wall Darius inclined his head only slightly, and the guard returned the gesture. No one else moved, or even reacted to the exchange. After a few more closed doors, the woman led him to a set of double doors, at which she finally stopped and knocked softly. A moment passed before the door was finally opened a crack. The face on the other side was young in Darius’s mind, and as he noted with a soft huff of disdain, wearing sunglasses. After giving both he and the woman a cursory look, the man opened the door completely and stood back a pace.
Darius strode in confidently without waiting for the any instruction from the woman that guided him, only just spotting the other guard in the room from the corner of his eye, one he already knew would be there. The room inside was large and open, the only furniture in the room being the massive pedestal desk and high backed chair that were framed by the panoramic windows that looked out onto a lit garden below. In the chair sat the man that Darius had come to see, to report to actually. The man was Trevor Singer, notorious gun runner, merciless killer, and extreme narcissist. Trevor was about Darius’s age, if perhaps a few years older, though his features spoke of the excellent care that had been giving to his health. However, despite the excellent physical condition, the Trevor’s blond hair was showing clear signs of receding, which Darius felt made the ever present pony tail seem even more ridiculous. Looking up from something on his desk, the Trevor stood with a smile.
“Well, well. If isn’t my Jack-of-all-trades. Good to see you made it back, Jack.” Darius hated the nickname many in the circles that knew of him had given him. He supposed that it was meant to be some sort of compliment. An attesting to his wide and various talents, but Darius felt that it made him sound like a third rate hack. Though there was something else that raised his anger more, and that was someone thinking that he was their personal errand boy. “What do have for me Jack-o? Good news I hope.”
Darius came to stand a few paces away from the desk, just as Trevor liked, and took up a comfortable stance with hands folded behind his waist. “Your primary competitor, Mister Franklin Cale, will no longer be competing. The smaller players that you wished me speak with have been convinced that it is in their best interests to begin supplying the small arms they deal in directly to the rebel groups in Fae. As also instructed, I supplied them with the contacts to get their new business started.”
“Now that’s what I’m talking about. Man, what I wouldn’t do to have three more fellas just like you.” Trevor smiled broadly as he reached into his coat to produce an envelope from inside a breast pocket. He shot the envelope over to Darius with a flick of the wrist. Darius caught it with ease in a single hand, carefully flicking it open to see the single slip of paper inside, before tucking it into his own leather riding jacket. In the meantime, Trevor had picked up a glass of some sort of liquor from his desk. “Guess you wouldn’t, eh? Ah, anyways, I’m glad you’re here at any rate. I got another job for you to look into. Someone’s been sniffing round my operations in the south. I need you to find out who, and send a very clear message. Usual compensation will be given on completion.”
Darius zipped up his jacket and let his hands drop to his sides, his fingers stretching as he did. “Well, I’d be glad to do half of that for you.” Trevor looked over the rim of his glass as he was taking a swig, and the rare smirking smile that crossed Darius’s face answered just about any question that he could think of.
“You? You stupid sonuvabitch! You think you can stick your nose where it don’t belong just because I like you? HUH?!” A sudden burst of gunfire from somewhere outside the manor, cut Trevor off as he spun around to look out the windows. “What the hell?” Darius heard the two guards from the doors came to a stop just behind him just as his fingers started slowly wrapping around the handles at his thighs. The gunfire outside had increased, and some had clearly erupted inside the building. Trevor spun around from the windows, tossing his glass aside, his face twisted in fury as he stretched his arm out pointing at Darius. “You’re dead, you piece of s**t!”
At the sound of pistols drawing from holsters, Darius yanked on the handles of his tonfa, his thumbs hitting the catch release, allowing them to extend to their full length. In a single motion he spun around as he twirled the now extending weapons, knocking both of the guard’s pistols slightly aside as he did. Swinging his right arm as he dropped to a knee, Darius ducked under a wild swing from one guard, then brought the short end of his right tonfa into the pelvis of the other guard who immediately doubled over and slid back in pain. Coming up quickly and spinning back to his right Darius spun his left tonfa to knock aside the still standing guard’s pistol again, and then quickly bringing the other tonfa’s long end back to slash the man in the face, breaking the fool’s sunglasses as he did. As that guard spun away from the hit, Darius turned to see the other guard recovering enough to stumble forward. Thrusting one fist out he caught the man in the throat, and in the other hand he reversed his grip, and used the handle as a hook to catch the man’s neck and yank him forward hard enough to crash face first into the floor. The guard’s fall yanked the tonfa from his hand, but Darius let it go, and then threw the other at the other recovering guard, knocking the gun from his hand. Using that his momentum, Darius darted forward and behind the man, hooking him under one arm so that the man’s body stretched in front of him, with the head trapped in the crook of Darius’s arm. With a sudden jerk of his arm, there was a wet snapping crunch and the guard ceased to move.
Darius let the dead guard drop to the floor and turned to face Trevor once more. As he did, there was shot, and he could hear the bullet whiz by his ear. Leaning to one side Darius flicked a wrist and Trevor yelled and dropped his ridiculously oversized handgun, as a black throwing knife suddenly embedded in his forearm, and red began to stain his beige jacket. Without pausing, he leaned slightly the other way as he flicked his other wrist, and Trevor’s yell choked off as another knife bloomed in his throat. Gurgling and gagging, he fell back into his chair and tried to claw at his throat, but his arms fell limply to his side as the burbling from his sliced throat also ceased. Darius looked over at a clock on the wall as he bent over to take up his tonfa and holster them. Hmph. Fourteen seconds. Gettin’ a little sloppy. The gunfire outside had finally ceased and Darius turned as the door to the room opened. Stepping in was the guard that he exchanged nods with earlier, who quickly came to attention and snapped off a salute.
“Sir. All off Singer’s loyalists have been dealt with.”
Darius returned the salute and started walking out of the room. “Good. At ease.” The man fell in behind Darius as he left the room and started downstairs. “I want you to secure the rest of the compound, and then round up Singer’s admins. I want a full brief of where his, well, my finances stand. And cancel or recall any deal or shipment with the Fae government or its agencies.”
The guard peeled off to carry out Darius’s orders as they got downstairs, and so Darius found himself outside, standing by himself at his bike. He slowly pulled on his helmet, a wicked sneer tugging up one side of his face. The time had finally come and things were actually going according to plan so far. Mounting the bike, he slapped the visor of his helmet down as the engine roared to life. As he tore off into the night, heading south, he began planning the next event in his head so that when he made his move in a few hours, it would go as smoothly as this one had.