The Brooklyn Brew café's quiet hum of life was shattered by the sound of breaking glass. A deafening roar echoed as smoke grenades rolled across the floor, filling the café with acrid, choking fog. The once-cozy refuge transformed into a war zone in an instant.
Emily was the first to react, grabbing Mr. Thompson and pulling him to the floor behind a table. "We're under attack!" She shouted.
Alastor's eyes flared, his body instinctively tensing. He scanned the fog, the sharp senses already picking up the whispers of movement. Cultists. Dozens of them.
The attackers were clad in long, dark coats adorned with strange, glowing symbols stitched into the fabric. Their hoods were pulled low, casting their faces in shadow, but their eyes gleamed with an unsettling light. The symbols on their coats pulsed with a faint, eerie glow as they moved, their presence as unnatural as their attire.
"Everyone, out the back!" Rachel yelled, already moving towards the emergency exit.
"Not an option," Alastor snapped, stepping forward. He could feel it—an oppressive energy radiating from the attackers. The cult was here for them, and retreating wouldn't save anyone.
Suddenly, a figure lunged from the smoke, a blade gleaming in hand. Alastor dodged effortlessly, delivering a powerful jab to the attacker's chest, sending them crashing into a table.
Derek, holding an overtuned chair like a makeshift weapon, stood protectively near Emily and Mr. Thompson. But there was a flicker of something in his eyes—a mix of familiarity and dread—as he locked eyes with one of the cultists.
"Derek, move!" Rachel barked, shoving him aside as another assailant charged towards their group. She swung a fire extinguisher with precision, knocking the attacker unconscious.
Meanwhile, Jack had taken a defensive position behind the counter, wielding a butcher's knife he'd grabbed from the café's small kitchen. "Alastor, we can't hold them off forever!" He shouted.
Alastor ignored him, his focus entirely on the cultists swarming the café. His body ached, still recovering from the earlier fight, but he couldn't afford to show weakness. He fought with calculated precision, striking just enough to incapacitate without revealing the full extent of his strength.
One cultist, their face obscured by a crimson hood, collapsed to their knees, blood pooling beneath them. They coughed violently, clutching at their chest as they spoke in a raspy whisper, "The Starbreaker... it awakens. You cannot stop what's coming."
"The Starbreaker?" Emily echoed, her voice trembling as she crouched beside Mr. Thompson. The dying cultist's lips twisted into a bloodstained smile. "Your protector... will fall."
Before anyone could demand more, the cultist collapsed, lifeless.
"Alastor!" Rachel yelled, breaking his focus. Two more cultists had cornered her, struggling to hold them off.
He hesitated for a moment, weighing his options. Then he darted forward, delivering a brutal series of strikes that left the attackers writhing on the ground.
Rachel stared at him, her breathing ragged. "You keep doing. Moving like... like you're not even human."
"No time for questions," Alastor growled, pulling her to her feet.
Near the back, Derek had stopped fighting altogether, his face pale as he stared at a cultist lying unconscious. Emily noticed his expression and stepped closer. "What's wrong, Derek?"
He didn't answer, his grip tightening on the chair in his hands.
"Derek!" Emily pressed, her voice rising despite the chaos.
"Not now!" he snapped, his sudden aggression catching her off guard.
Before the argument could escalate, another explosion rocked the café. The group stumbled, coughing as the smoke thickened.
"We need to go!" Jack yelled, motioning towards the shattered front door.
Alastor took the lead, ensuring the path was clear as they stumbled out into the cold night air. Behind them, the café was engulfed in flames, the cult's chants fading into the distance.
The cultists, having set the building alight, slipped into the shadows, retreating swiftly to avoid drawing attention from nearby residents. They left no trace but the destruction they had caused.
Outside, the chaos didn't go unnoticed. A passerby, startled by the sight of smoke and flames licking at the night sky, paused in their tracks. "Oh my God, the café!" they exclaimed, fumbling for their phone. Within moments, they had dialed emergency services, reporting the blaze.
As more onlookers gathered, some rushed to nearby homes, banging on doors to alert the occupants. "The Brooklyn Brew is on fire! Someone call the fire department!"
By the time the fire engines arrived, the flames had begun to spread to an adjacent building. Firefighters quickly moved into action, setting up hoses and working to contain the inferno.
Meanwhile, Alastor's group regrouped in an alleyway a few blocks away, panting from the exertion.
"This isn't over," Rachel said, turning to Alastor with a glare. "You're going to tell us what's really going on. And Derek—" she shot him a pointed look, "—you've been acting strange ever since we got attacked in the café. What's going on?"
Derek's face was pale, his eyes darting nervously between the group. "You guys just don't get it," he muttered, his hands twitching at his sides. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, I think we do," Emily said, her tone cold. "You've been hiding something from us. That pendant. The symbols. You've been acting like you're in over your head, but I'm starting to think there's more to you than meets the eye."
Derek's gaze flickered, and for a brief second, something dark flashed in his eyes. He took a step back, his lips curling into an almost mocking smile. "You know, I find it hilarious that you all still don't get it. Remember when I said, 'Oh, they're using me for the things that happened! Hahaha, you guys really believed me.'"
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Alastor's gaze hardened, and Rachel's face twisted in disbelief. "You… You were making fun of us?"
"Making fun?" Derek laughed, his voice dripping with malice. "Oh, you bet I was. You really thought I was just some innocent bystander? That I just stumbled into this mess by accident? Please. You were all so eager to trust me."
"You—" Emily began, her voice trembling with anger.
Derek held up a hand, silencing her. "Yeah, that's right. I've been playing you. This whole time, I've been leading you right where I wanted you. Into a trap."
Alastor's eyes narrowed. "You betrayed us."
Derek's smile only grew. "Betrayal? No, no. This isn't betrayal. This is business. And I'm not the first person to make sure my interests align with the right people. You all were just useful tools to get me what I wanted."
Rachel's eyes flashed with fury. "You've been working with the cult this entire time."
Derek—no, Levanzo—took a step forward, his posture shifting. The nervous energy was gone, replaced with something darker, colder. He reached under his shirt and pulled out the silver pendant, the symbol of the Eclipsed Order gleaming in the dim light.
"You didn't think I was really Derek, did you?" Levanzo's voice dropped to a low growl. "I am Levanzo."
The words hit Alastor like a punch to the gut. His heart skipped a beat, and the world seemed to tilt for a moment.
Before anyone could speak, Rachel's uncle, Mr. Thompson, who had been trailing behind, suddenly stepped forward. His voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Why?" he asked, his tone heavy with restrained anger. "Why are you after my family? After me? I don't know you, and I sure as hell don't have any connection to your cult. So why target us?"
Levanzo turned his cold gaze on Mr. Thompson, his smirk unwavering. "Why? That's a very good question." He shrugged nonchalantly. "But does it matter? You're just in the way. And besides, sometimes the best pawns are the ones who don't know why they're on the board."
Mr. Thompson's hands clenched into fists, but before he could retort, Levanzo shifted his attention back to the others.
Jack's breath hitched, stepping forward before anyone else could speak. His fists clenched, his voice trembling with urgency. "Sarah Lee... Where is she?"
Levanzo's grin widened, a cruel glint in his eye as he turned to Jack. "Ah, yes. The famous Sarah Lee. So loyal. So determined. She led you here, didn't she?" He chuckled darkly. "Funny how the brightest stars burn out the quickest."
Jack's heart pounded, his mind racing with desperation. "Don't play games with me!" he shouted, stepping closer. "Where is she? What did you do to her?"
Levanzo tilted his head, feigning thought. "Sarah Lee..." he repeated, his tone dripping with mock pity. "Oh, Jack. I'd hate to be the one to break this to you, but..." He paused, savoring the tension, "she's gone."
Jack froze, his voice trembling as he pressed, "Gone? What do you mean 'gone'?"
"Exactly what it sounds like," Levanzo said coolly. "Sarah Lee is no more. Extinguished. Forever out of reach."
Jack's body jolted as though he'd been physically struck. His breathing became shallow, his fists trembling at his sides. "You're lying," he growled, his voice cracking. "She's alive. Tell me where she is!"
Levanzo's laughter echoed coldly, each note like a dagger. "Believe what you want. But the truth is, she was expendable. A stepping stone to draw you here. And it worked beautifully, don't you think?" He gestured to the alley, the cultists surrounding them like vultures. "Now, look where her heroics have landed you."
Jack's knees buckled, Rachel catching him before he could fall completely. His voice was barely above a whisper. "No... no, she can't be..."
The weight of Levanzo's words suffocated the group. Even Rachel, always quick to retort, seemed momentarily paralyzed. Emily, watching Jack crumble, turned to Levanzo with fury blazing in her eyes.
"You're a monster," she spat, stepping forward. "And you—" her voice caught as something clicked in her mind. "You knew we'd come for her. You used her."
Levanzo's gaze shifted to Emily, his cruel smirk remaining. "Ah, Emily. Always the astute one. Yes, Sarah played her part well. Just like your precious Derek."
At Derek's name, Emily's breath hitched. Her fists clenched, her voice rising with emotion. "What are you saying? What do you know about Derek?"
Levanzo chuckled, his voice dripping with condescension. "Still holding onto that fantasy, are we? Let me help you. Derek has been dead for three years."
Emily staggered, her hands trembling as the words sank in. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "No, he can't be."
Levanzo leaned closer, his voice low and venomous. "Oh, but he is. The man you've been working with—the one you trusted? That was me. I simply took what was already broken and made it useful."
Emily's knees wobbled as she stumbled back. Her voice cracked with pain and fury. "You... you wore his face. You pretended to be him."
"And I did it quite well, didn't I?" Levanzo sneered. "The perfect cover. Your precious Derek was nothing more than a convenient disguise."
Emily's eyes narrowed, her voice trembling with barely suppressed anger. "But how? How do you even look like him? This doesn't make any sense."
Her question seemed to strike a chord with the others. Rachel, Mr. Thompson, and Jack exchanged bewildered glances, the realization sinking in.
Rachel's voice was sharp as she turned to him. "She's right. How do you look exactly like Derek?"
Levanzo's smirk deepened, his tone laced with mockery. "Oh, come now. You've seen enough to know I'm not your average man. Let's just say... I can blend in when necessary."
The vague response only fueled their unease, but Levanzo's eyes gleamed, as though daring them to uncover more.
Alastor struggled to steady his breath, his body still aching from the earlier attack. But now his mind reeled from the weight of this revelation. Levanzo—no, the man they thought was Derek—had been playing them all this time. And worse, he seemed to know more about Alastor than he was letting on.
Then, in the briefest of moments, something clicked inside Alastor's mind with Levanzo's words. He didn't know how he knew, but it was there, a faint recognition. The way Levanzo spoke, revealing how he can blend in, the way he shifted in his movements… it was subtle, almost imperceptible.
A race capable of such deception, of imitating and shaping their appearance to assume someone else's identity—Alastor had encountered them before, but that was long ago. Thousands of years before, back when he was still out in the cosmos, fighting to protect the universe at the peak of his powers. They were creatures of cunning and malice, thriving on their ability to warp the truth. Their kind had long been elusive, slipping through time and space like shadows.
Alastor had once battled their kind in a far-off world, their tactics unsettlingly familiar. It was a memory that gnawed at him, buried deep within his past. He had defeated them then, but now... now, it seemed like one of them had slipped past his guard once more.
Meanwhile, Emily's legs wavered, and she gripped the nearest wall to steady herself. Her voice cracked. "You killed him," she whispered, her voice raw.
"Did I?" Levanzo said, tilting his head mockingly. "No, I merely took advantage of the timing. Derek's death was… convenient. A freak accident, nothing more. But it served my purpose."
Emily's grief twisted into fury, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "You coward," she spat, her voice trembling but resolute. "Hiding behind a dead man's face, using his life to deceive us. You're pathetic."
For a moment, Levanzo's smirk faltered, but it quickly returned, sharper and colder. "Believe what you will. It doesn't change the outcome. Derek is gone, and I've already won."
Levanzo took a step closer, pulling Alastor from his thoughts. "You should have stayed dead a long time ago, Alastor," he said, his voice thick with disdain.
The words hit Alastor like a slap, and a chill ran down his spine. His heart pounded as he he heard those words, but before he could respond, Levanzo turned away, addressing the rest of the group.
The others were just beginning to process the betrayal. Rachel looked confused, her eyes darting between Alastor and Levanzo. Jack, his face pale, seemed frozen in place. Emily's breath came in ragged bursts, her hands shaking as she glared at the man who had stolen Derek's identity.
As the silence stretched, Levanzo gestured to the shadows, and cloaked cultists emerged from the dark corners of the alley. Their faces were obscured, but their glowing eyes and the menacing aura they radiated left no doubt about their intentions.
"No," Jack whispered, his breath shaky. "This was a setup."
"You've led us right into their hands," Alastor growled, stepping in front of the others protectively despite his battered state.
Levanzo chuckled, his voice low and mocking. "You're all so predictable. I knew exactly what you would do, Alastor. You can't stop us now."
A tall cultist stepped forward, holding a strange metallic staff—glowing runes etched into its surface. The Starbreaker.
"What is that?" Jack asked, his voice strained.
"End of the line," Levanzo said, his grin widening.
The cultist activated the Starbreaker, and a blinding surge of energy shot through the air. Alastor was barely able to react before the weapon struck him, sending him crashing against the wall. The force of the blow sent waves of pain through his body, every nerve feeling like it was being ripped apart.
"Alastor!" Emily cried, but before she could move to help, a cultist grabbed her, yanking her back.
"You're not going anywhere," the cultist hissed.
The others fought back, but the cultists were too many. Levanzo watched with amusement as they were quickly overpowered.
"You're making a mistake!" Rachel shouted, fury in her voice as she struggled against her captor.
Levanzo only laughed. "Regret? I've already won. The Starbreaker is only the beginning. Once we're done, none of you will stand in our way." He turned to his followers, his gaze cold and commanding. "My followers, join me in this moment."
At his command, the cultists instantly stopped fighting, turning to face him with unwavering devotion. Their previous aggression dissolved, replaced by a synchronized, eerie calm. Together, they began to chant, their voices rising in unison, filling the air with an ominous resonance. The rhythm was haunting, precise, and almost otherworldly. Levanzo's eyes gleamed with triumph as he stood in front of his followers, the power of their collective voices surging through the alley.
"Our time is coming," he proclaimed, his voice echoing above the chanting. "New York City will fall under our control, and then, the world. You all are just pawns in a much grander scheme. The source... the true source... will burn, and nothing will stand in our way."
The chanting grew louder, the rhythm sending a shiver down everyone's spine as Levanzo's words struck like a hammer. They weren't just after them—they were planning something much bigger, something that would alter the fate of the city and, perhaps, the world itself. Alastor's weakened body trembled, his connection to his powers already distant, but he could feel the weight of the cultists' chant reverberating through the air, growing ever more menacing.
Rachel exchanged a glance with Jack, a mix of fear and confusion in her eyes. "What are they really after? What's the 'source'?" she whispered.
Jack clenched his fists, his voice tight with frustration. "I don't know, but whatever it is, it's not good. We have to stop them."
Alastor, still trying to gather his strength, could only feel the pressure of the chant washing over him. The "source" was still a mystery, but something deep inside him told him it was far more dangerous than they could imagine. He had to find a way to stop Levanzo before this ritual could reach its conclusion.