It was the worst of times for the fishing queen. Stress toiled at every angle with no qualms despite the quality of work done and directed towards everything. Zenith terrorists and port disease were some of her prime issues. Carnel held a chip on her shoulder too- Or so Lucki believed. Fishing was her only release, now that too was stolen by a slowly shrinking market and damage to wildlife. One couldn't argue of her secluded home away from home either; those ancient bones stirred a troubling storm with what life remained instilled. "Ugh, one more mishap and I'm gonna have a full-on breakout!"
Luki remained in her room where she hoped for some peace of mind. Any chance was long disrupted when her brother made himself comfortable in her chambers; a trail of dust and stone sediments followed. Like the rest of the structure, it was oriental in nature even after renovations. Pale wood floorboards with a pink highlight. A specially made disk-shaped setup for Lucki's pc sat behind the paper sliding door. The device played electronic music on an open tab left on by Daedra as he sulked next to her pink-covered bed and stuffed animal collection parallel to the pc, "So...like what you did with the place," lies left his teeth with puffy duck in hand.
A dark oak case supported a few dozen books beside her bed which extended over the bedframe to form shade from the lightbulbs embedded in the ceiling; useful for whenever she slept at six in the morning….most mornings.
Lucki didn't take her brother's words to heart. She remained seated on a stool facing a mirror sitting upon a table. Comb in hand yanking all knots clean from her skull, "Sigh...if only I can do this to the thought of that girl…" her comb was full of dark strands of crinkled hair. She sighed low with her muttered message
"Oh?" a quiet message left his sister's lips. Obviously, he would focus on it first, "What's this? There's someone I don't know about?" as an older brother should, Daedra wished to pry the information out. His feet rejected a folded pose to stand and rest against her stool. "Come on."
A swat of the brush left the foreman holding his nose in pain, "Ugh, nothing like that," she spat, "Don't you have a day job to get back to!?" she scolded at the top of her lungs alerting the knight overhead baring watch at the landscape. This concrete jungle was unsafe. Carnel's main eye today descended in front of the commission's building where another protest was held. Signs and flaming bottles ready to be flung. Not one made it over their gate before their guards sent a hail of bullets into any hostile projectile as per knightly orders.
"I have my knight holding the area at guard right now," Daedra fell back on the floor with a thud. Hair cushioned his descent, "Besides, I should cool down right now," his chest puffed and fumed up and down with pulses of adrenaline coursing in their veins."Do you remember that girl who torched half the university when you were in your last year? The one who almost killed Mr. Briney?"
Daedra was transparent with everything on his mind in confines. Not only did that 'servant' that lived with them for years resurfaced from years on the run, but he also took another maniac as a friend. "I would have killed her if she wasn't with Dynamo."
Lucki said nothing. Her eyes, like most of her victims, remained large and dull with each pull of the brush. Another ping hit her neuragear releasing a gasp at the thought of more legal work. As the maiden, most important decisions ran through her and educated judgment. Though it would need several phases of council before arriving at such a high figure. Most judicial dramas were left in lower-tiered courts with cases of business entering her ear. Minnow Tradings, Peninsula Warehouses, S and P limited were some of the few dozen corporations who believed they had the right to breathe down Lucki's neck. Changes and orders to how she should protect their bottom dollar. Because badgering to the person who could shut you down and open the market to smaller traders, leaving their GDP unchanged is truly a wise decision.
Lucky for the Dyson, it wasn't another fool she wished not to meet. Daedra perked up the same, "Well speak of the devil," he whispered at the notification from Dynamo. His finger scrolled along the side of his dome listening to the quickly-paced message, "Umm, might wanna check your inbox," Daedra advised. Obviously, she already had a message from him opened, but his request was odd.
Block the highway from going to the Mandaly cemetery in the east, stop the interstate as well. The only persons who should pass are the Osmans who buried their son days ago. Also, consider getting an audience ready for that big iron lug on the throne.
He left it vague on purpose. Though the message was delivered with the attached photo of a shovel in hand. Daniel Osman, one of the earliest victims of port disease was buried in that cemetery two days prior.
A touch of the screen on Lucki's computer transmitted the information from her mind into her trusted guardian upon their roof with a seal of approval. She wasn't too surprised with it knowing who it revolved around, "Tobias..." Another push sent the same notification to her specialized swarm knights to block the paths as initially requested. Not even in moments and those updated models lunged at the highways that ran from north to south. Signs rose from the tracks along the plastic to redirect traffic with police guiding them with a tale of 'renovations to be done'.
One family contacted by the medical foundation was given passage, however; already alerted by the head honcho. Though it was troubling, a demand from the blue maiden was one no Mandalian could refuse, even if it meant something so distraught.
Heaven knew what occurred upon the hill protected by black bars. Under the willow tree at the very top of the grave with roots spreading to every coffin underneath siphoning their death into its own sustenance. Each grave was inlaid by stone. Gravestones were a thing of the past. Upon each cubical inlay were inscriptions of names and acolytes in life. Short and to the point. This one read 'Daniel Osman. The one never to reach his goal'
"Phew, that's depressing?" Dynamo joked at the worst of times. His foot rested on the stone to get a grip of the sloping hill. Beside him was Lena bearing a similar shovel to do his dirty work along with medical bots awaited to see the scan. Dynamo wanted to joke more about the tag given to the kid, although abstained seeing he was in earshot of the family. "Well, get to it then."
His shovel was gifted to the dragon who dug with Lena. Just as the boy no older than fifteen got his final memento to rest he would come unearthed once more for humanity required it. Draglion offered to do it all himself, but one look into Lena's eyes changed his mind. A sad thought, for she was scarily similar to him, wasn't she? A firm mouth and sharp eyes not dulled by they'd pull from the earth.
Dirt and soil was dispersed. The shovels with pointed tips cracked the edges of the concrete slabs like an egg with enough force. Stones big and small rubbed against each other and sunk into the mud when pushed to the sides. Again and again, they chipped away at taboo. Dynamo watched every last grain come off it. His voice was turned low, "Pulling the dead out of the ground? This is what it resorts to?" he was no saint to judge in the slightest. Draglion pulled the rest off with his hands to reveal the small ivory box.
"Hmm, you," he took the shovel from Lena's paws. A child was before him and their father behind him. Hands trembled under those wool gloves, "Get them out of here. Now."
She caught wind of attitudes, "Couldn't you like, console him better cause you're a dad too?" she was puzzled and pushed the awkward situation back on him.
"Yes, because the family in need of consolidation requires a dragon thrice the size of them and a head larger than their forearms to tell them to leave their child's resting place," Draglion folded both of his arms. His legs fixed his position to look directly down at Dynamo's newest assistant of this age. A living wall of flesh with poison leaking down its jowls lambasted her.
"Just say you don't wanna do it yourself then, jeez…" defeated, she turned heel and slid down to the cemetery barrier in the distance with a trail. The dragon and rogue unit exchanged glares; Dynamo shook his head with finger near his metaphorical heart.
"This is where you people come in. Crack him open and get a sample."
Assistance from a bone saw cleaved through mystery. The doctors reported everything they witnessed. No blood. No flesh nor bone was present but invisible tracks where they once ran. No fluids in sight other than the rain which fell upon the body's suit. His faced permanently affixed with the mark of regret and eyes glazed in silver.
Mild paralysis, internal bleeding and hemorrhaging were symptoms of port disease. Joint locking and brain fog followed as a milder moment. People reported seeing shadows and daimons lurk behind the doctors and medical staff. Always warping and wrapping so they could never be found. Supposedly they 'had no faces' and appeared 'weaker than I' yet they noted nothing other vague notes.
It was written off as a case of mass hysteria started by their symptoms and believed to be similar to some daimon poison; many had the same feeling of impending doom. The only difference is that now, doom didn't wait. Hydra, spiders, toads and even wildcat venom couldn't hold a candle to good old fashioned death.
Death. What loomed over this boy, he knew it was coming for him. But the investigation was complete once an opening in his skull was secured. Daniel Osman became nothing but a trophy for Mors. A silver medal made a man.