Draconic Testament (6 page)

”Bastion!” Vander called, running up to Bastion, after another day of school. Bastion was headed right for the Haven in haste, walking fast down the wet, dreary streets, stepping in puddles and feeling small splatters of water go up his trouser and hit his legs. He didn’t have any lessons with Veronica today, although she was present, and she was avoiding Bastion like he had the plague, and since she had taken the Medallion from him, he had no way to stay at home and spy on the killer. He was passing by his house, when his next door neighbour practically barged through his own door to grab his attention. Bastion practically skidded in the rain to stop his movement, almost slipping forward flat on his face. He turned and looked toward Vander, who was still getting changed into his casual clothes. “C’mere!” Vander shouted, signalling Bastion over toward the door. Bastion complied and walked grudgingly toward the door, looking his friend in the eye as he sighed and got ready for an apology, “Hey, look man. I'm sorry about yesterday, yeah?” Vander sighs. “Look, it’s just. We’ve known each other for the longest time, man. You’ve known me to flip out at random stuff when it concerns you, and… probably only that. You’re like a brother to me… I just don’t want anything to happen to you, is all.” Vander admits, looking at the floor embarrassed. Bastion bites his lip, making Vander laugh as he realizes how stupid he sounds. “Ah, shit, man.” Vander laughs “Look, are we good? We cool?” He says, as he outstretches his hand in peace.
”Yeah, we’re alright.” Bastion smiles, taking his hand.
”Hehe, hey, you wanna come in man?” Vander asks, opening the door wider, revealing that he was wearing loose pants that required a belt, and no shirt. Bastion laughed and said “No, no thanks, I got to go, and I don’t wanna get cholophormed”
”Yeah, well, at least it’s humane, unlike you.” Vander teased, though Bastion didn’t get it, he frowned. “I heard crying next door yesterday, then I saw a girl in black storming off. What’d she do, kick you in the balls to get away from your touchy feely paws?” Bastion was at a loss for words.  ”Err…” Bastion began.
”Ah. I wasn’t supposed to see that, huh?” Vander asked. “Well, whatever, it’s cool, it’s cool. Just… I won’t say shit about it” He laughs, as he bidded Bastion farewell, and shut the door. Bastion turned around and got ready to leave, cursing under his breath. Did Vander see Veronica leaving, with the medallion? Then again, he didn’t actually recognize her, since she went off to her left, while Vander’s house is on the right, and she wasn’t in uniform, she was in Victorian clothes. That alone MUST have tipped him off, right? Perhaps it’s nothing to worry about, but it’s something to take into account.
Bastion pushes himself through the hole in the fence of his Haven, and scrambles to the platform. He closes his eyes, trying to detect the glowing figures, and easily enough, there they were. As they came into view, though, he saw number 3 again. Only number 3 was headed into town, and then he disappeared once again. “Who is this guy?” Bastion thought, as every time that he’s seen him, he’s disappeared. Does he know he’s being spied on? Perhaps he’s special? Whatever the reason for his disappearances, it didn’t matter. He was looking for the killer, not some mystery man. The mystery man vanished from his man when Bastion spotted something soon after that made his heart sink. Number 4 and number 2… they were both in the abandoned apartment that number 4 was spending so much time in. Number 2 was tied up, and as he focused, he saw that the killer was speaking to him. Bastion panicked. The apartments were a small ways off on the other side of town, perhaps 8 minutes till he gets there, or is it too late already? Is it better to simply listen in for information? The killer is dangerous, and he’s likely not going to kill in his apartment, he’s likely going to take him someplace else, brainwash him like he did to the girl that Bastion stumbled across, so he does have time to save him. Would it be better to call the police? He patted himself down for his mobile phone, and realised he never took it with him. Should he run home, call the police? Then again, he didn’t know exactly where the apartment was, everything except for silhouettes were dark. He’d have to get close and actually find the address if he wanted to call the police on the house. And even then, if he’s too late… Bastion cursed, and his mind is made up as he sees the killer stick his finger into a wound on the man’s stomach, and twist it, and if Bastion had focused just a little more, he would have heard number 2 moan in pain, voice muffling over the tape on his mouth. The mere thought of watching torture to gain information sickened Bastion, and he felt pathetic for even considering it. He marked the area it was in, knowing for sure where the apartments were around, and got up. He scrambled through the hole, and ran towards the apartments.
Bastion raced past his and Vander’s house, into town. His feet slammed into puddles as he sprinted, and it splashed onto people, who cursed at Bastion, but Bastion could care less, a man’s life was at stake! He didn’t like the thought of anyone actually knowing what he’s racing to though, as he would see that as extremely cheesy, and would probably flush bright red, but there’s no time to waste now. He was gaining up upon the location that he had tracked while at his Haven, though it had taken him longer than he had thought, even though he ran most of the way. He went through the bushes with litter decorating it as if it were a Christmas tree. Bastion decided he’d stop for his breath before mounting a rescue, as he was so fatigued that he felt as if his lungs had burst. He didn’t see any homeless people here, which was odd, since this would be the ultimate squatting post. For an abandoned apartment, it wasn’t that bad. The apartments were located in a small, grassy, messy area on the border of the town, on the parallel side of where Bastion lives. The doors to the apartments were either smashed in, or completely gone, one of the bottom right was boarded up completely. The apartments had two floors, and both had 5 rooms, the stairs on the outside leading up to the second row. The vegetation all around the apartment had been overgrown, and the smell was dreadful, like animals came here to use this place as their restroom, which was pretty believable. Bastion decided he’d rested enough, and went to investigate. First, he had to take a peek in the rooms on the bottom floors. He looked inside the dark, cavern like spaces. The place was clustered with rubbish, and the first three rooms’ walls were caved in, which made the three rooms practically one room. There was more rubble on the floor than there was dirt, although he did make out a few mattresses in the back with objects on them. If they were people, then perhaps he’d try calling for them, though he did admit to himself that he was a little intimidated by the whole hiding in the dark act. He moved onto the second floor. The first door on the right was practically empty, besides from trash bags. The second after that looked like an actual apartment, broken TV, dirty mattress with a dead cat on it, and the rest had a bare minimum amount of litter over the floor. The door after that one, however, was closed. It was the one with the door. His heart began to beat faster. He had planned that he’d barge through, and jaw the killer, knocking him clean out, though it was more likely that he’d have to do a lot more than that to take him down. He got a intimidating impression of the killer, and though he didn’t seem like everyone else. Serial killers in the movies were smart, and cunning, if a bit insane, but they were all human. They weren’t superhuman, and without their tools, they probably couldn’t overpower, or even beat anyone in a fair fight. Perhaps he could do this, easily. He pressed his ear against the door, trying to listen for anything else other than his own heartbeat, beginning to sweat. It was hard to concentrate, but he concluded that he couldn’t hear anything. He looked through the keyhole to see if he could see anything, but his vision was of nothing but a wall, though he recognized the surroundings. The TV was on, no sound, just the news creating flashing lights that could be seen on the wall that he was looking at. Bastion sighed, and waited, looking around, then looking back through the keyhole, incase he could see anything. Unfortunately, unlike Batman, he didn’t have any stealthy lockpick-type gadgets that would allow him to sneak inside. He had to break the door down. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, but his abilities in fighting had made him brave, perhaps stupid and overconfident, but he knew that fear is what was holding him back, and Batman got over his fears. He got ready to breach.
He shoulder barged the door, which gave way almost immediately, since it was extremely weak. A mere push would have opened this door, it was likely not even locked. However, Bastion had rammed into the door with all his might, which caused him to crash forward into the ground, scraping his face off the ground, creating a carpet burn mark on his face. He winced, and got to his hands and knees, and looked around. The killer and his victim aren’t here. He could hear nothing outside, and see nothing here. Like the other apartments, all this was a large room with a toilet, and he checked both. They had gone, and the victim would most likely be executed soon, if not already. Bastion sighed, knowing that he had let down a seemingly innocent man, feeling guilty, but since he was here, he might as well try to find out something about the killer. The apartment was spotless. Everything was thrown out, likely dumped in the other apartments below. The TV was on, as expected, and there were newspaper hangings pinned to the wall, as if they were supposed to be posters of some kind. There was also a map of areas being circled, creating a diagonal line through surrey, like he was making some sort of journey. “What kind of psycho is this?” Bastion wondered. The killer was keeping track of something, something about a child and a paragon. Another thing was suitcases, they were packed, as if he was ready to move on. There was a laptop on the desk on his bed. He turned it on, and looked through his history. Whoever was here was searching about infant mortality, and if any child deaths had occurred over the past 16 years, and if any of their biology and/or skin colour was odd. This is odd, what is this guy looking for? Nothing else struck the room as odd… although, there was something he had overlooked. He saw traced of blood in the kitchen area that had been swept up. They likely were the result of the torture that had commenced here… but there was something else. Bastion chuckled with disbelief as he picked up yet another medallion, this one red, like Veronica’s. “Wow, Veronica. Who are you guys? You’re all connected somehow.” Bastion whispers to himself. He chuckled again, as he recalled Veronica telling him in his house to stay out of this. Was there something between Veronica and the other glowing people? Was he, perhaps, a glowing person in their minds? The medallion had no power in it, which added to Bastion’s torment, as he couldn’t simply pick up the trail from here. He didn’t know what he could do as vengeance. Wait here and strike the killer down? Run back to his Haven and find where the killer took the man? The latter would result in him being far too late, and the other was too dangerous. Was he to alert the police to this place? That would end in questions, how did he find out about this place, why did he come here etc. Then it struck him. Tell the police, but be an anonymous tip, from a cell phone, then he’d dump it. But that would be too expensive. He ponders the idea, seeing as the blood is evidence, and the laptop may have some useful data tucked away inside it. When he thinks like that, he can’t help but feel as if it would be idiotic not to, although he does feel a bit lousy that he can’t be a hero and hand in the criminal himself, while he’s knocked out. However, life is not a comic book. How would he get the police here without drawing any attention to himself? Being in two murder sites is highly suspicious. Then, he has an idea. He opens up the laptop, and takes a look at the killer’s applications, and laughs. “All hail modern technology.” He chuckled, as he opened up Skype.
The police swarmed the apartment block like flies to a corpse, and within minutes, a crime scene was set up. “Look’s like it’s going to be fine from here.” Says Bastion, as he watches from the distance, leaning against a wall with a limited, but acceptable vision of the apartments. After figuring that he’d had enough, he decided to go home, since he may get an earful by his mother if he gets home late. Perhaps he’d be able to sit down for the rest of the day, watch the news, forget about the whole murder case that he’d been so obsessed about since he found the body. Perhaps it’s finally over now. He passed the library by town. He was half tempted to run up to the study that Veronica usually stays in and wave the medallion in her face, laughing at her, but decided against it. This time, he’d keep the medallion hidden away, safe from anyone else. He passed his and Vander’s house and headed straight to the park to refuel his medallion, and perhaps see where the killer is. He jogged across the muddy, soggy grounds of the park and squeezed himself through the hole in the fence, getting muck all over his jeans, and then sat on the platform. The backside of his jeans soaked up the rain from the damp, weakened platform, and slowly, Bastion felt a wet patch form, though he didn’t really care. He closed his eyes. Nothing. He couldn’t see the killer, or the victim, all he could see was Veronica, in her study. That puzzled him. This is the first time since the beach party night that he had been unable to sense the killer. Perhaps the police have found him, and taken him out of range, or even shot him down as he tried to resist? “Whatever the case, I'm done with the investigation. Done all I can.” Bastion sighs, then he sits around a while longer, refuelling his medallion, before setting off home. He heads through his door, and sulks up the stairs, feeling drained. Bastion ended up lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He felt different. Like he was empty, with no organs inside. He wondered why for a few seconds, then he realised... he had no desire to go to the Haven... or to read. He didn’t know what he wanted to do now. The haven was his life since he was 8, most of his memories there were studying, going to sleep or even kissing Talia, but now… now there was nothing. He felt no desire to head back, all of a sudden. It would be like needing to relieve yourself in the bathroom for years, and then finally letting loose. Oddly enough, even his lust for knowledge had gone. Now, all he wanted to do was catch the killer, a deep desire to look for the glowing people, but the only person he saw was Veronica, or number 3, although that was for an extremely short while. What else was there in his life, now? Depression had sunk in deep, for what seems like no reason. “There’s something wrong with me.” Bastion sighed, “Between my skin, my teeth, and my lost addiction to the Haven, I can see glowing people.” And for the remainder of the hour, he sat there, feeling sorry for himself, and trying to think of what he wants from his future. He decided that he’ll still go to the Haven, and look for the presences he could see, the glowing silhouettes of what seems like important, and dangerous, people. See if any more turn up, or perhaps chase number 3, if he can. Finding the killer’s hideout was a thrill for him, but the only thing that came out of the visit for him, personally, was the medallion. But, that was all he wanted to do, look for the glowing people. And then, a voice came to him, from below him, a loud voice, so loud that it gave him a fright. A fright so bad, that at first, he thought it was Satan, but then he realized it was his mother, who is arguably worse. “Sebastian! Remember you exams are coming up next week!” She said, and Bastion’s depression set in even deeper.