1855 North-western Territory Howlett Mannor
The Howlett family property which was inherited from pioneer settler ancestors is a land that is vast and rich in natural resources but is still under-developed. The family businesses mainly revolved around agriculture and trade.
Ten years passed since James awakened his mutant abilities but there's not even a shadow of his return. In his absence, the entire Howlett inheritance was passed on to David after Elizabeth died of her grief not long after the incident.
In her deathbed, she apologized to David for neglecting him and for being a horrible mother and David who found it a little awkward simply reassured her of his understanding before she peacefully passed on. After she was buried in the family mausoleum David lived alone in his large manor.
David stepped up to the grand, oak door, which reminded him of every moments spent sneaking through the halls. The mansion's chill greeted him first, followed by the smell of polished wood and aged leather. It was all to silent. Eerily so and almost oppressive that it pressed down on him as he wandered deeper into the house.
He reached the study which has always been off-limits for him in the past. It was all just as he could remember, heavy curtains, old leather armchairs by the fireplace and shelves lined with books. David sat on the chair thinking for a few minutes when a quiet knock on the doorframe broke the silence.
The door swung open and a familiar older man can be seen standing in the doorway. Charles Greaves is the family's long-time lawyer.
"David," Greaves greeted him with a polite nod. "I know its quite a lot. Probably too much for someone as young as you, but you just have to hang in there. Okay?"
Greaves stepped into the room looking around and finally landing on the journal in David's hands. "I assume you know the truth of what your family's built on." He said, finger pointing the journal in David's hand.
David waved the journal in his hand before speaking. "I know enough. But that isn't why you're here. Please Mr. Greaves take a seat." David gestured to the other chair across his.
"Then please do enlighten this old man." Greaves walked over and casually sat on the leather armchair.
David stood and walked over to a corner table to pour whiskey on a glass and handed it to Greaves as he spoke. "Quit probing, I called for you to ask for a favor this time."
"A favor?" Greaves reached out to receive the whiskey. "I wonder what this favor entails?" He continued before sniffing the glass of whiskey as if intoxicated.
"I need you to set me up with a meeting with the 'Mr. Greene' mentioned in my father's journal." David answered much to Greaves' wonder.
"Are you serious? You must have read about him in that journal but I assure you that your imagination will not suffice. Mr. Greene... He's something else. You... you might not make it out alive... or in one piece." Greaves almost shivered from the chilling sensation in his spine before coughing to regain his composure.
David's expression hardened, but he remained silent for a moment, letting the gravity of Greaves' words settle between them. The lawyer's hesitation was evident, and while David felt a twinge of doubt, but he couldn't ignore the curiosity gnawing at him, nor the need to understand the full extent of his family's secrets.
'If he's a mutant, then I need a copy of his abilities!' David became determined and his resolve hardened he broke into a confident smile. "You know as well as I do, Greaves, that curiosity has always been my undoing," David replied, the faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth disappeared. "This is something I have to pursue. If my family's legacy ties me to Mr. Greene, then I need to know what that connection is."
Greaves shifted in his chair, his face an uneasy mix of fear and hesitation. "You don't know what you're stepping into, David. Greene… he's not just a man with a powerful business or political sway. He's a… force. And those who've crossed paths with him rarely walk away unscathed."
David studied Greaves' face carefully, noting the tremor in the lawyer's hand as he took a measured sip of whiskey. "Then why did my father associate with him?"
Greaves let out a long, weary sigh. "Your family didn't just associate with him. They were indebted to him. And in many ways, they still are. Greene's influence stretches far beyond commerce or politics. He deals in… rare things. The kind that makes men legends or monsters."
David took a steadying breath, fighting to keep his voice calm. "Then I'll be careful, Greaves. I'm not naïve, but I can't go on managing this estate with only half the story. Not when it seems to be bound by secrets that no one has dared to tell me."
Greaves nodded, his expression resigned. He placed the empty glass on the table with a soft clink. "I suppose there's no talking you out of this."
"You're right," David said firmly. "There isn't."
Greaves rose to his feet, buttoning his coat with a slow, deliberate motion. "Very well. I'll arrange it. But remember this, Greene is as ruthless as he is powerful. Don't let him know how much you want the truth. He'll use that against you if he can."
David gave him a nod, and Greaves turned toward the door, pausing just before leaving. "Tomorrow night at White Oaks," he said quietly. "Prepare yourself, David."
Greaves took a full swig and placed the empty glass on the table before he stood up to excuse himself. The silence of the study returned and David glanced down at the journal in his hands, its leather cover worn but undeniably sturdy.
The following evening, David found himself in a darkened corner of the prestigious White Oaks Club, a private establishment for those wealthy and powerful enough to know it even existed. Ornate chandeliers cast a dim, almost sinister glow over the room, illuminating men in tailored suits and women dressed in opulent finery. David, clad in his own finely tailored black suit, fit right in, but his age set him apart from everyone. He could feel a chill of unease as he moved toward the private parlor where he'd been instructed to wait.
Moments later, the door creaked open, and in walked a figure who seemed to carry the weight of the entire room's attention on his shoulders. Mr. Greene was tall and severe, he has a cold gray piercing eyes that seemed to strip away layers with a single glance. His neatly combed white hair, chiseled features, and an almost unnatural calmness marked him as a man not easily disturbed by the trivialities of others.
"Mr. Howlett," Greene greeted, his voice as smooth as silk yet somehow unsettling. "I've heard much about you from your late mother. My condolences."
David inclined his head, feeling the intensity of Greene's gaze he stood and reached out for a handshake. "I'm certain that anything you've heard of me pales in comparison to what you know about my family's business."
Greene's mouth twitched in the faintest of smiles as he firmly gripped David's outreached hand before he sat himself across from David. "Direct and to the point. A refreshing quality, especially in one so young." He leaned back, steepling his fingers. "But tell me, what is it that you seek, Mr. Howlett?"
David held his ground, though the question unsettled him. "My family has left me a legacy full of secrets... secrets that I intend to uncover. You seem to have played a key role in that legacy, Mr. Greene. So, let's not waste time. I want to know what you're holding over my family."
Greene chuckled, a hollow sound that echoed through the room. "Oh, the Howlett family owes me far more than a mere favor, my dear boy. Your father's father and those before him was wise enough to pay their debts without question. But you…" He paused, leaning forward, his eyes narrowing. "You have a hunger for answers, don't you?"
David's jaw clenched. "You've already seen through me. So tell me, what is this debt all about?"
Greene leaned back, an almost predatory gleam in his eyes. "It is a bond, a pact your family made long before your father or even his father took the reins. The Howlett estate is built on land that was once… protected, shall we say, by forces not of this world. Your ancestors struck a deal, and that deal has required a… steward, someone to manage these 'forces' so they do not turn against the family."
David's face showed a surge of disbelief, mixed with fear as he stammered in his speech. "So you... You're telling me that my family's prosperity is linked to something... supernatural?" He continued in a tone of disbelief.
Greene nodded, seemingly amused by David's shock. "Precisely. And now that duty falls to you, the inheritor. I'm here to ensure you understand the weight of that responsibility. It was supposed to be your brother James' but as he is indisposed I guess you will have to do. In fact, I was just about to go looking for you if you didn't come yourself."
David's fists tightened in his lap as he grappled with the implications. "What kind of responsibility are we talking about?"
Greene's smile faded, replaced by a cold, calculating look. "Its nothing much really. You are going to be the new gatekeeper, David. The boundary between this world and something… other. You'll be expected to maintain that boundary, and to pay the price when required. Should you fail, the wrath of the very land your estate rests upon will be unleashed. Are you prepared to shoulder that burden?"
David took a steadying breath, the words sinking deep into his bones. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect my family's legacy. But if I'm to bear this responsibility, I need all the knowledge my father left out of his journals. Every piece of it."
Greene's expression softened, but only slightly. "Knowledge, yes. But be warned young man, knowledge like this often comes with sacrifice. Tomorrow, I will meet you at the manor at midnight. There, we will begin. And once we start, Mr. Howlett…" He paused, giving David a long, appraising look. "There will be no turning back."
David nodded, his face a mixture of dread and resolve. "Understood."
With a curt nod, Greene rose, and as he left, the room seemed to grow colder, as if his very presence had leached the warmth from the air. Alone once more, David smiled.