Name: M-Pire book one, Woes of a Dark Lord/Enter Wong by M
Length: 3030 words
Summary: Enter James Wong and meet the most ruthless and unforgivable character in my writing universe.
Submission:
~*~
Ahmed’s room became very silent. All of the League’s Men and Members became quiet, backed against the walls, and bowed their heads in silent and fearful admiration. It was almost eerie to see men that had bounded in so terribly become so quiet, like kicked puppies.
Misty smoke from the teleporter had filled half the room and added to disturbing silence. A dark figure stepped out from the murk. The figure’s very presence seemed to generate chills down every man’s spine in the room. Ahmed, who was standing the farthest away from the mist whimpered slightly but managed to change it to a cough.
The smoke dissipated to reveal a very tall and thin man who towered over the other men in the room. He wore the dark suit and red ascot tie the League Members wore but the clothes were much neater and more elegant on him. His hair was also neat, dark, and styled in a prominent widow’s peak. Below his round nose was a long Fu-Manchu moustache that hung off his face like snakes with a matching beard hanging from his chin. Both of his eyes had golden irises but his right eye was glossy and the pupil was a black omega instead of a dark circle because it was made of glass.
The man stepped smoothly through the large room and sniffed irritably at the total disarray it was in. His expensive, stable boots crunched against the glass of a smashed hookah as he approached Ahmed. He walked in such a way that said he could explode at any moment in anger.
He was James Wong, President of the League of Uncrowned Kings. This is what he had been waiting to do, coming to Ottoma to catch up with Ahmed. It was the first little thing to do on his list when he had awoken that morning faraway in some unknown country. Now he was here, and he was angry.
Oh, where was it? Where was that little scumbag of a traitor? How dare it betray him, its master! It was under the Binding Contract that kept Ottoma under his control, it was his property, and Wong didn’t like it when he property started planning with the enemy.
‘It’ was a word Wong used often for people. ‘It’ was for everybody against Wong because words like ‘him’ applied that they had working brains and in Wong’s opinion a working brain meant that they were obeying him. The word ‘she’, however, was not in Wong’s vocabulary; women were like exotic birds he had only ever heard about. All the women Wong had met had been old whores that were against him, therefore getting all women the title of ‘it’.
There was a loud crack from the teleporter and the room was filled with more smoke. Another figure came sliding out of the mist but this one was nowhere near as impressive as Wong. It was just Gwhul Aul, Wong’s bodyguard, League Lord of the Middle East, and Prince of the Djinn.
Aul would be tall if he was not hunched over and by his kind’s standards he would have been very handsome with his bloodshot red, totally-not-yellow, eyes. He was covered from head to toe in long pieces of gold fabric, a long green robe, and a heavy looking turban. The only thing that showed that Aul was not a walking carpet sale were his eyes poking out from what could be determined as his head.
Wong curled his lip in disgust. He had not asked Aul to come; he would just get in the way. Aul was always so touchy about when Wong killed somebody. Wong would have thought after all this time and so many bodies Aul would have gotten used to it. Still, the Djinn was useful and his magical skills were unsurpassable; he was a necessity Wong needed to get by.
The crowd of the League’s Men parted as Aul tried to catch up with Wong but he did not stop for his bodyguard, his mind was too clouded by hatred to care.
“James,” Aul whispered in a voice that sounded like hot wind on sandy dunes, “I beg you not to do this.”
Wong ignored Aul and continued to stalk towards Ahmed, who was now on his knees, staring at Wong in absolute, paralyzed fear.
Step.
The War had not gone smoothly for Wong. All that planning and all that money spent had been wasted. Once again Wong’s enemies had outsmarted him at the very last minute. He had been so close this time! Europe had been just an inch from his grasp; he could practically have smelled it! His false dreams of power had been beyond his reach.
Step.
Germany, one of Wong’s most powerful allied countries had been stopped a week ago. The chancellor had not been there at the time of his country’s downfall; instead he was in Africa. Germany’s defeat was the first step to Wong’s defeat.
Step.
And now Ottoma was tumbling down. The countless princes that ran the country were running around in complete circles when they got the news that India, America, and Britain were closing in on them. Their holy warriors wouldn’t be there to save them now; they’d be too busy saving the people of this hellhole of a country. They wouldn’t be there to save the princes from Wong.
Step.
And who was to blame for all this chaos that had been brought down upon the League? Certainly not Wong because Wong didn’t make mistakes but if he did he was quick to peg the blame on somebody else and that somebody else tended to end up dead. Measures would have to be taken to assure the League would survive in one piece. Wong had been in much worst situations than this but they were never pleasant to be in.
Step.
It had been the Bone Man who was responsible for this worldwide League defeat. It was always the Bone Man. Him and his little MI13 and band of freaks always jumped in to save the day for Britain and her allies. Wong had hoped that he would have shown him after he had killed off his enemy’s little teammates in Iran. He hadn’t seen or heard from him sense; perhaps the message had gotten across.
Step.
And then there was this little rat in front of Wong. A traitor, a collaborator with his enemies; a collaborator with the Bone Man. It disgusted Wong beyond anything he could possibly imagine.
He sometimes got creatures like Ahmed. Wong tried so hard for so long to put the ‘Fear of Wong’ into everyone he met. To put fear in a man, in Wong’s opinion, was to have control. It worked, oh how it worked, but some men had stronger wills than others and they ended up working against him. He made sure that he was there to catch them and make an example.
Step.
Wong stood above the bowed Ahmed. Disgusting, did the Ottoman warrior believe that he could get away by a bow? The idea made Wong smirk.
Ahmed raised his head and stared into Wong’s eyes, and squinted when he locked onto Wong’s glass right eye. The omega pupil seemed to burn something into the man’s mind. Despite looking frightened Ahmed did not blink.
“Your Excellency,” he said, bowing his head again.
“Traitor,” Wong whispered coldly.
“How goes Your Excellency’s battle?”
How dare it? Wong thought, how dare it speak to me in such tone! Disrespect, casual!
The League’s Men and Members watched Wong and Ahmed’s stare down. The air around the two men was extremely tense and one could say it was hotter than the rest of the room. Ahmed was still cool but behind his façade was a side of fear. Wong, however, was trembling with anger. His fists were clenched and his brow was furrowed. Three years of anger was about to surface.
“James,” Aul’s voice came from the shadows, “come here.”
Wong turned to Aul in total shock, couldn’t the Djinn see that his master was busy?
Aul was standing by the tapestry against the wall that Abbots had teleported away from, looking disgusted with himself.
“What?” Wong screamed across the room, every syllable drenched in anger. Several of the League’s Members jumped.
“Someone has—teleported in this spot.”
“How do you know?”
“I can smell the magic.”
Wong made long strides across the room, kicking pillows out of his way as he went. When he got next to Aul he could definitely tell something had happened there. Wong had been around magic most of his life and most of the League’s weaponry was magic fused with technology. After awhile you could just begin to tell where magic had been.
“It… wasn’t us who teleported in this spot?” he asked the Djinn.
“The teleporter is over there, James.”
“Then who teleported?” Wong said, staring Aul in those feline like, blood red eyes. Aul had the ultimate poker face but Wong could tell the Djinn didn’t know.
Wong turned around slowly and looked at Ahmed with a face that said, “Got you”. Ahmed obviously knew the game was up. Wong knew what had happened.
In a blink of an eye Wong was back in front of Ahmed, his face the personification of terrifying anger. He picked Ahmed by the scruff of the robe and slammed him against the dusty wall. They were face to face and Ahmed now looked terrified.
“Who was here before me?” Wong screamed in the little man’s face.
Ahmed moaned.
“Tell me!”
Ahmed said nothing.
“It was him, wasn’t it? The Bone Man was here! You met with the Bone Man didn’t you!”
“No,” Ahmed said flatly.
“Who was it?!”
Ahmed spat on Wong’s face. Wong screamed in rage and threw the man across the room in a burst of strength. The little Ottoman warrior rolled into a small pile of pillows.
“You b*****d,” Wong murmured as he wiped the glob of spittle of his face and out of his moustache and beard, “I own you! You are mine, you are under Contract!”
Out of his coat Wong pulled out a very old looking piece of parchment. It was the Ottoman Binding Contract, the piece of paper that held Ottoma to Wong’s will. Aul, in the darkness sighed in amazement, his eyes very wide.
“You do not own me!” Ahmed spat out as he got up, looking around the room for his sword, “I am a free man! I am a Muharreb!”
Wong laughed out loud at this comment and Aul put his head into his hands. That was really too funny. Wong laughed in the face of freedom. No one was free once they came under Wong’s control.
The League’s Men pointed their weapons at Ahmed when he had retrieved his sword but Wong waved them down. He liked to play with his food before he ate it. Ahmed wearily got to his feet and took the Muharreb battle stance: Stand and Charge.
Wong just stood there and lifted a very long and thin, delicate eyebrow. Really? Ahmed should know better than this…
The Ottoman warrior began to dash at Wong with great speed, sword thrust into the air. Wong was surprised that Ahmed was not going for his chest but his right hand, Wong’s ring hand. Hm, Ahmed was smarter than he had thought, obviously he had gotten some helpful tips.
Ahmed’s dash towards the League President seemed to take an hour in Wong’s mind but not because he was terrified. His golden eyes flashed and his glass eye rolled around in its socket right as Ahmed sword was about to strike its spot. Now came the amusing part.
Wong stepped out of the way and tripped Ahmed as he passed. The Ottoman warrior dropped his sword and it slid across the floor. Wong gestured for the League’s Men to act and the armored soldiers ran up and held Ahmed down. Wong walked across the room and picked up the sword and turned his eyes to look at Aul, who still had his face in his hands.
Wong could kill Ahmed with a touch— but that didn’t seem appropriate to the man who had betrayed him and tried to kill him. No, Wong had something far more amusing in mind.
“Gwhul,” Wong said while examining the sword in the thin light of the room, “correct me if I am wrong but it is the greatest insult to a Muharreb to be killed by his own blade?”
Aul looked up at his master, his eyes filled with complete surprise. Wong could tell that the Djinn didn’t want to answer but his face told him everything. Oh, this was going to be good.
Ahmed was struggling to break free from the League’s Men’s grip. He was sputtering and swearing in Arabic like a cornered animal and in Wong’s mind that’s what Ahmed was. The League Members were hiding in the darkness, smiles on their faces.
“Bring him to his knees!” Wong giggled in sadistic glee.
Wong strolled over to the Ottoman warrior, grinning ear to ear while twirling the sword like a cane. When he reached Ahmed he got down on one knee and put the blade to the man’s throat.
“Goodbye, traitor,” Wong whispered into Ahmed’s ears and shouted as he swiftly cut the man’s head off. Ahmed’s head rolled across the floor and to Aul’s feet where it laid there, staring up at the Djinn with the glassy eyes of a dead man. Aul shuttered slightly.
“Your Excellency,” one of the League’s Men said, wiping blood of his armor, “what should we do with the body?”
“Leave it,” Wong said, “all of you back to Nigeria, inform Chancellor Adler that I will be… speaking… with him soon. Don’t let him leave the country.”
“Yes, Your Excellency,” the soldiers and men said as they bowed and used the teleporter to disappear. Wong, however stayed, and walked over to a curtained window and flung back the thick piece of cloth blocking the sunshine.
The light blinded Wong for several seconds as he forced himself to look out at the countless buildings that made the Ottoman city. It disgusted him; it was like a labyrinth packed to the breaking point with rats. Rats like Ahmed.
He wondered what it was like for them, the people, in the streets. Did they know who was looking down at them all as they so merrily bought their goods and children played in the streets? Of course they didn’t. Wong was a man of the shadows, which infuriated him. No one knew his name or his face. Would History remember him? Would he be written down in the books as one of the greatest men Destiny had ever produced? He liked to think so but he never had the guts to check.
Then he realized he had lost control. He had let his temper get to him again. The anger had simmered but he had exploded. Why couldn’t he control his emotions? He was stronger than that! He could control himself if he wanted to! He was not a child, he was a grown man—men could control their emotions.
Wong lifted his right hand to the light and examined the rings on his finger. On his ring finger was a handsome, gold signet ring and on his index was a glistening silver dragon twisting itself into a Celtic knot. The light caught them perfectly; those were the objects of authority and power. Perfect in every way, godlike, everything Wong wanted to be.
Aul crept out of the shadows and stood next to Wong. He too stared down at the streets of Ottoma but Wong could tell that the Djinn was feeling other emotions besides disgust. This is what separated Wong from Aul; Aul was flimsy and too caring while Wong simply didn’t care. The idea of love, care, and respect had no place in Wong’s mind. Wong had decided long ago that it was much better to be feared than respected because in his mind when men respected you they could stand against you but with fear you turned them to cowards and they wouldn’t have the guts to fight you.
“What are you going to do now, James?” Aul asked, “Have you lost hope with the War?”
“The War is lost, Gwhul,” Wong said, picking Ahmed’s head up by the turban and throwing it to Aul, “but I will make sure I reap some sort of reward out of my defeat. There will be things that must be done that assure the League’s survival, of course.”
“Of course,” Aul said in disgust, holding the head, “what would you like me to do with the head?”
“Bring it to the princes of this hellhole, tell them it is a gift from me. Tell them they need to work harder.”
“But why, James, why?” Aul moaned, “You lifted Germany’s Contract, why not release Ottoma?”
“Because unlike Germany, Ottoma has only failed me once, Gwhul, and I find it to be a much more useful country than those drunk bastards that run Germany. Your country’s stupidity can be aimed.”
“It is not MY country, James.”
“Yes,” Wong said, stepping on the teleporter, “but you watch over this disgusting piece of sand like it’s your own. Set this mud house ablaze before you leave.”
With a hiss and a zap James Wong had left Ottoma.
Aul stared at the teleporter for several minutes, his eyes reflecting his mind. He wanted to run, run far away. He did not want to return to his master but he had to; he was under Contract.
The Djinn walked over to Ahmed’s beheaded body and placed the warrior’s sword into his dead hands. Aul said a quick prayer and took the head, like Wong had told him to, and stepped onto the teleporter but before he went he focused his energy into his hands and a large ball of smokeless flame appeared in his hands. He through it onto the pillows and the flame began to consume the room.
Hiss.
Zap.
Gwhul Aul had left Ottoma.
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