SUNDAY, April 3, 1988
Steve Roberts & Patrick Berger’s apartment
1701 Tulip St
The Fishtown section
Philadelphia, Pa
Steve wakes up with David and Paddy standing over his bed. “Where the hell have you been?” Paddy demands.
“I told you I was going to New York for a date,” Steve replies, still groggy sitting up in his bed to discover he is dressed as Master Warrior. “What is going on here?” he asks his friends.
“That is what we would like to know,” David says. “You went on that date a week ago!” “Where have you been all this time?”
Steve turns to sit up on the edge of the bed moving his boots to the floor. He lays his face in his hands. “The last thing I remember was flying over Elizabeth, New Jersey.”
“Take your suit off,” Paddy instructs.
“What?” Steve exclaims, standing up.
“I can take it to the precinct, run tests, maybe find some trace of where you have been,” Paddy explains.
“Yeah, that is a great idea,” David agrees.
“That isn’t going to work,” Steve explains. “My suit repels most dirt and contaminants.” He lifts his foot to show them the sole of his boot. “See, it is like new, not so much as wear on it.” “Besides, how are you going to explain having my uniform to Olpere?”
“So how do we find out where you have been?” David asks. “I’ve been watching the papers and there haven’t even been any sightings of Master Warrior in the past week.” “It is as if you disappeared off the face of the Earth.”
Steve looks at his alarm clock. “How are you both here?” “What day is it?” he asks.
“Sunday,” Paddy answers.
“Shit, I was supposed to be on a plane to my parents an hour ago.” Steve says. “I think I have a short cut and maybe pick a few answers along the way.” Steve touches his belt buckle calling out, “MIST!” Master Warrior vanishes from the room leaving his friends behind to wonder how long it will be until they see him again.
The Palace of Mist
Magic Island
Somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle
Master Warrior arrives in Mist’s throne room where the guardian of the island sits as if he is waiting for his arrival. Before Master Warrior can speak, Mist stands up to greet him. “I know why you are here but I can offer you no answers.” “But I can provide you with a trip to your parent’s home.”
“What do you mean, you can’t offer me answers to what happened to me for the past week?” Master Warrior exclaims. “Can’t you look in your crystal ball or something to tell me where I’ve been for a week?”
“I am a prisoner on this island and as such my power is limited,” Mist replies, leading Master Warrior to the room off to the side of the one they stand in. The room is brightly lit and at its center there is a large glass sphere, much bigger than Master Warrior imagined. It rests on a heavy iron stand made of twisted iron rods. The sphere itself must stand four feet in diameter. A wave of Mist’s hand and a cloud of white smoke swirls within the glass. “The Mystic Sphere can show me many things, but not all.”
Master Warrior watches as the images form. He witnesses himself soar out over the Manhattan train yard, out over the city and the river heading southwest. Master Warrior relives the joy he felt as he did barrel rolls in the night sky. Then there is a flash and he is gone from the night sky. “What was that?” he exclaims.
“It was magic in origin,” Mist reveals. “A transportation spell that took you elsewhere.”
“Where did it take me?” Master Warrior demands.
“To a place of powerful magic, I would assume,” Mist tells him. “There are many places in the world that are powerful enough to be shielded from the view of the Mystic Sphere.” “Like Magic Island is shielded from the outside world to prevent discovery.” “When you next appear it will be in your bed a week later.”
Master Warrior views himself in the sphere as David and Paddy enter his room to find him. “How many places on Earth have the power to hide from this thing?”
“Hundreds, and there are many practitioners of magic that could cast the spell that took you,” Mist explains. “If you are unchanged by your adventure then there is nothing you can do but wait for your missing past to reveal itself.” “Now go, join your family before you are late for dinner.” Mist waves his hand again at Master Warrior and he is gone.
Dona & Steven Roberts’ house
3005 NW 14th St
Miami, Florida
Steve Roberts arrives in his parents’ kitchen dressed in pleated pants, a polo shirt and his members only jacket, the same thing he wore on his date in New York a week ago. His mother stands over the sink rinsing vegetables. “Hey Mom,” he says, coming up behind her to give his mother a kiss on the cheek.
She raises the knife in her hand to point it at her reflection in the window over the sink. “Steve, how many times must I tell you not to sneak up on me!”
“Apparently at least once more,” Steve laughs.
“I think I left it on the kitchen counter,” he hears his sister call from the other room.
“You better not have lost another one,” her father, Steven Roberts, calls to her as he enters the kitchen to find his son standing there. “Hey Sport, when did you get here?” The father says moving to give his son a hug.
“A couple of minutes ago,” Steve replies, hugging his Dad. “Have to admit I’m surprised to see you here.” “I thought you would be out of town still on your secret mission.”
“So your mother told you about what she did,” Steven Sr. says, heading for the counter to retrieve the missing textbook.
“If you need any help with it, I’d be glad to lend a hand,” Steve says.
“I think I can handle it fine,” his Dad tells him. “The thing about a secret mission is; Master Warrior showing up spoils the secret.”
Steve goes to the refrigerator for a cold drink taking notice of a large dent in the front of it. “What happened here?” he asks. His parents give each other a rather suspicious look. “Does this have something to do with that Hershel guy, because if it does I would really like to have a talk with him.”
Steve’s mother grins at him saying, “Believe me when I say that had nothing to do with Hershel.” “It was just an everyday household accident, nothing to concern yourself with.”
Grabbing a soda from the refrigerator Steve figures it is best to let the story go. “Dad, that’s not what I meant,” Steve says following his father out of the kitchen.
“Like I said I have it under control,” Steven repeats, arriving in the dining room with the book.
“Hey, I thought your flight wasn’t due in for another hour?” Christine greets her brother.
“Took a shortcut,” Steve says. “What are you studying?”
“A subject over your head, Advanced Calculus,” she replies.
“Now Christine, just because your brother didn’t go to college doesn’t mean he is stupid,” Dona Roberts says entering the dinning room to give her son a hug and kiss on the cheek. “He took advanced classes in High School.”
“She’s right Mom, math was never my strength,” Steve says, getting a strange tinge at the base of his skull as he walks past his sister.
A few hours later the family sits down to Sunday dinner. Serving her son a slice of pork roast Dona asks, “So honey have you seen that Miracle Maiden over in New York again?” Christine glares across the table at her brother giving him that strange feeling again.
“What brought that question up?” Steve asks his mother, wishing she would let it go. He doesn’t dare mention Diana. At that moment he feels bad about how he made fun of Diana about keeping them a secret to Tracey.
“Oh, I was just reading about her in the USA today, she seems to be very impressive,” Dona replies. “Not to mention that Master Warrior was seen with her in the city.”
“She definitely is impressive,” Steve says, “But she is still no fan of Master Warrior.” “She calls him a Showboat.”
“You do know that you are Master Warrior, right?” Christine adds.
“It’s become a habit to talk about him in the third person, preventing me from screwing up with other people,” Steve tells his glaring little sister.
“She’s a beautiful woman, wouldn’t you say, Steve,” Dona says.
All the while Steven has remained silent at his wife’s questions, but he begins to see how uncomfortable his son is becoming. “Okay Dona, that’s enough, leave the man alone,” Steven Sr. says.
“Can’t a mother ask her son a few questions,” Dona argues.
“It’s alright Dad, there isn’t much to tell other than hate at first sight,” Steve explains. “I really don’t think she will ever see him as anything other than an ego-maniac.” “As far as beautiful goes, I can’t even see her face.” “It’s odd because a while back the distortion of the gemstone I used allowed me to recognize Roman Mercury’s face in a painting.”
“So you think the distortion of her face is similar to what that stone you got in Zeeza does to your face?” Dona asks.
“Most likely, because she was in Zeeza too,” Steve replies, taking another bite of the roast.
“Really, you never told us that before,” Dona purrs. “So that means if you can still clearly see her body, she can see yours.”
“That is just gross, Mom,” Christine interjects.
“How old are you again?” Steve asks his sister who has been giving him the evil eye since he walked in the door. “7 or 8?”
“You are such a Blockhead!” Christine retorts across the table with less intensity than usual.
That single word, “Blockhead” is like a lightning bolt through Steve’s mind. Suddenly everything that happened in his missing week floods back to him.
“Steve, Christine has some great news, she has decided on her major,” their mother announces. “She’s going to go into Psychology.”
“I’m sure she will be very good at digging around in people’s brains,” Steve states glaring at his sister.
Sunday, March 27, 1988
Cassandra Estate Manor
Scarlett, The Isle of Man,
United Kingdom
Steve Roberts awakes in a strange bedroom laying on a rather uncomfortable king size, four poster bed. From beneath the old hand sewn blankets her peers around the room. It is like something out of an old Vincent Price movie. There are no electric lamps or appliances of any kind. Where on Earth is he and how did he get here? He throws back the blankets to discover he is wearing only his underwear. That’s not good, he thinks. Stepping away from the bed he walks toward the window. Looking out he is on the third or fourth floor of what appears to be a stone walled castle. He reaches for his ear to change to Master Warrior or his street close, either would be fine right now. Nothing happens.
Behind him he hears the turn of the old door knob. Standing there wearing only his skivvies he is not sure what to expect. The heavy oak door creaked open like the old iron hinges had not been oiled in three hundred years. A grim looking middle-aged gentleman steps into the room. He is dressed like some kind of macabre Butler. “The Master will receive you for breakfast,” the balding man said in a low monotone voice with an Irish accent. “Please dress appropriately.” The spooky Butler gestures back to the bed with his long bony arm. For the first time Steve noticed a pair of slacks, a button down silk shirt and a dinner jacket laying on the bedspread. “I am sure all will fit perfectly,” the Butler says before turning to leave, closing the door behind him.
Steve picks up the jacket that has no label in it giving him the impression it was custom made. The pants and the shirt are the same. Normally he would wear a t-shirt under such a silk shirt to prevent it from becoming transparent or damaging it with sweat. On this occasion he has no choice but to slip it on his bare back. It feels smooth and soft on his skin as he buttons it closed. To his surprise it does fit perfectly as if it was made for his body. Something that is surprisingly rather because few things do.
Just then the window sashes squeak open of their own accord. He turns to investigate to only have one event be distracted by another. The old upholstered high back chair by the fireplace is suddenly knocked backwards to the floor. He trots to the window to close it thinking the wind has blown the chair over to find there is no movement of wind outside at all. Going to the chair on the right of it on the floor he finds a small silver ring. Odd, he thinks it looks like one of those pieces of junk jewelry his sister would wear on her fingers. He places the ring on the side table next to the chair. Perhaps a maid or someone lost it.
Returning to getting dressed he doesn’t give the event another thought. The pants and jacket fit perfectly too just as the Butler said they would. Now dressed he walks around to inspect the room. It is immaculate even though everything in it looks to be centuries old. The room appears to be more of a museum than a bedroom. Oddly when he turns back to the bed it is made. Something is not right with this place.
Then suddenly there is a thump at the door that draws his attention. Steve crosses the room to the door. He expects to see the Butler on the other side when he opens it. But there is no one. Perhaps it is time he found out exactly where he is as he steps into the hall. The decor in the hallway is the same as in the room. The hallway is long and there are many doors along it as he walks toward the staircase.
As he strolls down the medieval corridor Steve knows that he should probably be more concerned how he got here. But without his danger sense blowing a gasket in his head, he is more curious than worried. Arriving at the stairs he begins down them when he hears other footsteps on the old floor boards of the hallway. He stops in his tracks on the stairs to look back to see no one as the footsteps stop. Just another oddity of this old place, he guesses. At the bottom of the stairs that wind around the stone walls the Butler waits.
“The Master awaits your arrival,” the grim servant says as Steve descends the stairs.
“If you don’t mind me asking, who is the Master and where am I?” Steve says reaching the bottom of the stairs where the Butler waits. The pale man does not answer his questions as he leads him to a large dining room. The room seems to be the size of a quarter of a football field to Steve, but that is ridiculous. The large table that could seat fifty is set for two at the far end of the room. At the head of the table a man even older than the Butler sits reading his morning paper.
“May I present the Master, Basile Montgomery Roberts,” the Irish Butler announces. “Mister Steven Andrew Roberts the second.” The man at the end of the dining room table puts aside his newspaper to stand up a little under six feet, his gray hair with a bit of blonde mixed in, is cut to just below his jaw line. He clearly has tried to comb out his nature curls to straighten it with little success. The older man’s sideburns come around his cheeks to meet his manicured mustache. His eyes are piercing green.
The name rings a bell in Steve’s mind instantly, this is his great-uncle, his great-aunt Barbara’s brother and this must be Cassandra Estate Manor, his family’s ancestral home. “It is a pleasure to meet you sir,” Steve says walking along the table to the second place set next to the man. Upon closer inspection Basile Roberts appears to be nearly a hundred. “May I call you Uncle Basile?”
“Please do young man and have a seat at my table,” Basile Roberts speaks in a British accent. “The cook has prepared a very special breakfast for your arrival.” “I do hope that my summons has not been an inconvenience for you.”
Charmers pulls out the chair to allow Steve to take the seat at the table. Inspecting the many pieces of silverware displayed next to the plates on the table, he can’t even imagine what some of the pieces are used to eat. “No sir, actually I had no plans for today, but I should phone home if I am staying any longer,” Steve replies. “My father told me some stories of the week he spent here when he was my age.”
Charmers quietly walks around to the other side of the table to reposition a second chair, before leaving the room. “Yes, your father was a fine young lad,” Basile reminisces. “I hoped that you would spend some time with me to learn about your ancestors and this Estate.”
“I think I could manage that,” Steve replies as the Butler returns with the cook. The cook is a woman in her fifties with red hair bound in a bun on the back of her head under a kerchief. Both of the servants push carts loaded with plates of food. There are eggs cooked in many different ways, toast, muffins, jams and jellies, pancakes, sausages, and bacon, cold and hot cereals. It is more than he could ever imagine eating for breakfast.
“I did not know what you would like for breakfast young sir so I prepared a little of everything,” the cook says with an Irish accent.
“Thank you that will be all,” Basile instructs his servants as they turn to leave the room. Just as the servants leave the room the chair Charmers moved across from Steve moves again slightly, as if bumped. He watches it for a moment thinking it must have just been his imagination, Uncle Basile has not reacted at all.
At any rate if nothing else he knows this is definitely the United Kingdom, Steve thinks as he helps himself to a few eggs, bacon, fried potatoes and a muffin. Something strikes him as odd as he eats with his great-uncle. Steve’s father was twenty-one when he came to the Isle of Man on a plane. Now at Twenty-two both he and his father believe he had been passed over for the trip. Yet he feels no danger from this relative at all. “How exactly did I get here?” Steve asks, wiping his mouth trying to seem polite.
“A simple summoning trick,” Uncle Basile replies calmly as if it was something people do everyday, like crossing the street. “I am sure your father told you of the power of the Estate.”
“Not a lot, he was rather secretive about the history of the Estate,” Steve replies, reaching for a slice of butter for his muffin. Steve can only assume his father withheld the magic parts of the Estate because of the lessons his mother taught him. He glances across the table to notice the chair opposite him to move slightly and a biscuit from a plate vanishes.
“This Estate was built by Lord Cartridge Payne nearly six hundred years ago,” Basile begins. “He was a sorcerer of great power and when the Estate was threatened by evil he imbibed that power into the Estate.” “His intention was to protect this land from invaders and every Master of the Estate since has controlled that power.” “I fear now the time has come for the Estate to have a new Master.”
Steve is silent for a moment as he finishes his breakfast to consider all that his Great-Uncle has told him. “Is that why you have brought me here, to become your heir?” Steve asks, not sure if he wants to know the answer.
“It is too soon to discuss that matter,” Uncle Basile says, taking a drink of his hot tea. “I want you to experience all Cassandra Manor Estate has to offer before we discuss such things.” “Take some time to think over what I have told you and we will meet at the stables in two hours to take a ride.” “Charmers will lay out some riding attire for you in your room.”
“I must admit the fit of these clothes are perfect, I’m not usually an easy fit,” Steve says, holding up his arms. “How did you manage it?”
“Oh it wasn’t me,” Basile says finishing his tea, “It is the Manor, it knows everything about you since you arrived.”
“Everything?” Steve questions.
“Yes, everything,” Basile smiles for the first time. “Even that you have already earned the title Master.” “Charmers!” Basile calls out to summon the Butler from the other room. “Please give our guest a short tour before preparing him for a morning ride.”
“This way young sir,” the Irish Butler says as he pulls out Steve’s chair to help him up from the table.
“Thank you for breakfast,” Steve says to his Uncle as he turns to leave with the Butler. The Butler takes Steve out a different door than he entered through. The next room off of the dining room is a large parlor or sitting room. The bright light of the morning sun shines in through ten foot high windows that assures Steve that this Butler is not a vampire. Steve glances back over his shoulder to watch the door close, wondering if his ghostly companion is still following him. But there is no extra bump in the door as it closes to alert him.
“This is the Grand Parlor,” the Butler Charmers announces as he directs Steve around the room. The ceilings of the parlor must be at least fifteen feet high with ornate crown moldings and decorative coins above the candle lit chandeliers. The plaster ceiling is flawlessly painted with murals not unlike what he saw at the Palace of Versailles.
“Never upgrade to gas or electric lighting?” Steve asks to view the candles that are placed on the chandeliers and around the room.
“You are seeing the Manor as it was originally built,” the Butler replies. “If the next Master of the Manor wishes to use gas or electric lighting the Manor will comply.” The Butler’s answer, strange but Steve does not question it as he views the artwork on the walls that depict what he can only guess are dead ancestors. Charmers lead Steve to a door that enters into a smaller parlor room. “This is the Lady’s lounge, it has not been used in some time,” the Butler explains. “Not since the Lady of the Manor passed away in childbirth nearly sixty years ago.”
“And the child?” Steve questions delicately.
“The child passed on as well,” Charmers reveals. “The Master never married again, that is why he must look elsewhere in the family for an heir.” The Butler Charmers then leads Steve to the front hall.
“Uncle Basile was not clear on the matter of a phone,” Steve says. “Is it possible for me to make a phone call home, let them know where I am?”
If it is possible the grim man looks grimmer as he steps toward another door in the front hall. “This is the Study, you will find a telephone in there,” Charmers directs, sliding open the pocket doors to the study.
Steve enters the room that smells of tobacco and brandy. Distracted by decor again Steve makes his way through the room taking it all in. The phone is not at all what he expected when he finds it. It is a standing model with a handheld earpiece like the one the Munsters had in the hall coffin. He calls his home number, not even sure the old device will work. Steve is almost in shock when Paddy answers on the other end. He explains to his roommate where he is and what is going on. Finishing up the call he makes his way back through the study to the hallway.
The Butler waits in the hallway for Steve who he then leads back upstairs to the room where Steve woke up. Once inside the room Steve is instructed, “Disrobe I shall gather your riding attire.”
Steve removes his jacket and begins to unbutton his shirt thinking out loud, “Sixty years is a long time to be alone in this big house.”
“Being Master of the Estate is both a curse and a responsibility,” Charmers replies as he removes a leather riding jacket, cotton shirt, denim riding pants and jack-boots from the wardrobe. “The Master of Cassandra Manor Estate leaves only room for one other heart.” “It was one of the requirements set down by Lord Cartridge Payne from the beginning.” Steve has stripped down to his skivvies by the time the Butler approaches him with his new attire.
“Is there a lavatory I could use before dressing again?” Steve asks.
“Over there, beyond that door,” Charmers gestures with his free hand. Steve walks over to the door at the far side of the rather large bedroom. The bathroom is not nearly as antiquated as the rest of the Manor that he has seen. On one side of the room it actually appears to be a rather modern sink with running water and a flush toilet. Over on the other side is a large cast iron claw foot bathtub perhaps the largest he has ever seen. Several bath towels hang on rails on the wall behind the tub.
“I guess some things need to be modernized out of necessity,” Steve says to his reflection in a large silver framed mirror over the sink. He steps over to the toilet to drop his underwear to his ankles to have a seat. It would seem that those butterflies from his stomach last night on his date are ready to come out. Afterward he washing his hands and drying them on hand towels hanging next to the sink.
The Butler waits patiently for Steve, inspecting the young man on his return. The manservant asks, “Will those undergarments offer you enough support or will you require a strap?”
Steve looks at the pants that Charmers is holding to say, “I’m sure those pants will fit properly to do the job.” Stepping into the calf-high riding pants Steve finds that he was right, it is almost as if the pants constrict in the right places to perfectly fit his body’s dimensions. Any concerns that Charmers had are gone now that the pants have restrained Steve’s manhood. The shirt and jacket are a perfect fit as well. As he sits on the edge of a chair to put on the boots Charmers brings him an odd pair of thin knit stockings. Steve slides the stockings over his feet to come up to the top of his calves just below the cuffs of the short pants. Then he slides on the boots with a little help from the Butler to lace them all the way up the front. Standing up Steve almost feels like he did the first time he put on his Master Warrior costume.
Steve Roberts & Patrick Berger’s apartment
1701 Tulip St
The Fishtown section
Philadelphia, Pa
It is Monday morning as Paddy Berger cooks his breakfast before leaving for work. He realizes he didn’t hear Steve come in last night but that isn’t unusual. Having gone to bed early he didn’t wait up to hear the report on Steve’s date. Paddy expected that Steve would be eager to talk this morning, but there is no sign of him. Taking his plate and coffee to the small dining table he sits down to eat as he goes over some of the paperwork he brought home from the precinct last night.
Paddy had managed to get the Commander to release all of the medical testing that was done on him when he joined the unit. Right there in black and white are the results of his Zeni-human DNA test. It is positive that he has the gene to allow Zeni-human development. Either he always had this memory power and never noticed it before or it was triggered somehow in the past few years. He and Steve had talked about his suspicion that everyone chosen for the Elite Squad has the Zeni-gene, but this has taken it from a suspicion to a definite. Does he tell Paula, is his real concern. It’s not like they are going to have children at their age.
Paddy looks back to Steve’s closed bedroom door. He wonders if his roommate who has known he had powers for most of his life might have some insight. Finishing up his breakfast Paddy places his dishes in the sink. Then he crosses the apartment to Steve’s bedroom door. He knocks, “You getting up?” “I’m almost ready to leave, got anything you want to talk about?” Paddy stands at the door getting no response. Then reaching for the knob he opens the door to say, “Truth is I have a question for you.”
This is not the first time he has opened this door to find that Steve has not come home. Although something seems different this time. Paddy returns to the living room to grab for the TV remote. He wants to see if Jim Gardener has any News reports of Master Warrior’s activities overnight. Paddy sits down on the edge of his Lazy Boy not wanting to get too comfortable to watch the local morning News. Bad storms overnight, a couple of trees down, an accident on the Schuylkill expressway, even a shooting at a convenience store robbery, but no Master Warrior sightings. Usually when Steve doesn’t come home there has been at least one sighting of Master Warrior. Perhaps something happened in New York, maybe he will give a call over there when he gets to work.
Cassandra Estate Manor
The stables
Scarlett, The Isle of Man
United Kingdom
Choosing a horse is not as easy as Steve thought it would be. He has been horseback riding several times but never had to choose his own horse, just ride the one he was given. After looking over five horses he decides on a three year old Stallion. Climbing up on the horse Steve brings it out of the stable to meet Uncle Basile at the edge of the path. “First time on a horse, lad?” Uncle Basile asks.
“No, not at all, just never realized how hard it is to choose one,” Steve replies as he guides the horse with his legs and the raynes. “Which way are we headed?”
“The Estate is 500 acres I thought we might begin on the northeast shore line,” Uncle Basile says as he begins the morning ride.
After an hour of riding Uncle Basile stops to dismount his horse. “Come boy, it is time for a rest,” Basile says, walking to the edge of the trail. They have stopped along a ledge that overlooks the Irish Sea. It is a clear and bright day with barely any clouds in the sky at all. Steve jumps down from his horse to admire the scenic view across the water to the mainland. Stepping over beside Uncle Basile he gets a surprise. He glances over to notice that his uncle has his dick out taking a leak.
“Oh excuse me,” Steve says, backing away.
“No need to apologize,” Uncle Basile says, looking back over his shoulder at the young man. “Come, join me, relieve your cargo.” “The Estate is completely self-sufficient.” “There are no wells or sewage treatment here,” “The magic that enchants the Estate has long taken care of all such things.” “What is it called now-in days, Recycling?” “Nothing more refreshing than a morning piss and the ocean air on your Johnson.”
Steve steps up to the edge of the ledge next to his uncle to open his fly to take out his dick to piss over the side of the ledge with him. The arch of his piss exceeds his Uncle’s reaching past the pebble on the ground and over the side. This isn’t that big of a deal to Steve, he has done it many times with his Dad. “How does it work?” “The magic of the Estate I mean.”
“Cannot say that I know,” Uncle Basile says, shaking off his dick and putting it away. “Centuries ago when Lord Payne built this Manor and Estate he cast the spell to create the recycling process.” “I believe it was on the advice of a great warrior.” “So many of the spells of the past are a mystery to me.”
“So we are a lineage of sorcerers?” Steve asks finishing up his leak to stow his dick away.
Basile chuckles at the thought. “Yes and no, I was born with no magic.” Basile raises his hand to the nearby tree that hangs on the edge of the eroding cliff. “It is this Estate that has the magic and as its Master I influence it, as will my successor.” The tree’s root seems to come to life as it crawls back from the ledge to replant itself a safe distance from the erosion. “Come now, let us finish our ride back to the Manor.”
Just then something else stirs at the edge of the cliff. “Oh no,” Uncle Basile whispers as he squats down to touch the rocky ground next to him. Steve has to admit this old guy is much more nimble than he would have thought at first sight. The ground trembles slightly beneath Basile’s hand as something begins to emerge from it. Two perfectly forged swords erupt from the stony ground at Basile’s feet. “Quickly take one of these,” Basile shouts, tossing a sword to Steve.”
“What is it?” Steve exclaims. “What is going on?”
“Poisonous ground spiders!” Basile shouts as he turns to the cliff readying his sword. “It is still early in the season, but we seem to have awakened them prematurely.” “Their bite is deadly and we have given them our scent.”
Steve grins at the old man’s fear, a few spiders are no match for Master Warrior. Then the first of the spiders emerges up over the side of the cliff. It looks like a tarantula and it is the size of Saint Bernard with a leg span of several yards! “How is this possible?” Steve shouts, suddenly changing his attitude to hold up the sword Uncle Basile gave him.
“A side effect of the magic imbibed in the Estate is that some of the indigenous creatures were enchanted to be used as defenses.” Uncle Basile explains as he strikes out at one of the over-sized spiders, severing two of its eight legs. “But they do not distinguish between friend and foe.”
As the number of spiders emerging over the cliff increases, Steve moves into action leaping up to bring the sword down into the thorax of one of the creatures. The spider instant shrinks into nothingness. Steve glances over to see that Uncle Basile is also holding his own against the giant spiders for a man of his age. Apparently the magic of the Earth born sword reverts the spiders to a more natural size. Steve continues on striking down spider after spider but still more swarm up over the cliff at them.
Then Steve hears the panicked brays of the horses. He turns back to the horses to see that they are now surrounded by the snapping and hissing arachnids. Before he can reach the horses Uncle Basile’s horse is bitten and taken down by the ground spiders. Many other spiders swarm onto the fell horse, drawing attention away from the men and the horse still standing. The swarm of spiders begin to spin webs around the quickly dying horse.
“Steve, quickly while they are distracted!” Uncle Basile shouts as he runs across the meadow toward the other fleeing horse. The older guy is pretty fast on his feet but Steve can see that he is not fast enough to catch the fleeing horse. But Steve is as he takes a leap across the grass toward the horse. He hits the ground running alongside the horse to pull himself up onto the saddle. Grabbing the rains Steve slows the Stallion to turn him back to pick up Uncle Basile. Scooping up the older man onto the horse behind him, Steve makes haste for the path back toward the Manor.
“We must return our swords to the Earth!” Uncle Basile shouts over the sound of the galloping hooves. “They will act as a barrier to our escape!” Steve and Basile toss away their steel swords that are absorbed by the ground the moment the metal touches the Earth. Basile leans forward to put his lips to Steve’s ear whispering, “Do not spill your seed on the grounds of the Estate.”
Steve is focused on getting them back to the Manor and pays little to the words of the old man. The thing Steve that is forefront in his mind as he charges the large Stallion is, How do those spiders not overrun this island. He isn’t even sure he knows the way back to the Manor but he keeps going worried that his elderly Uncle has over exerted himself.
The horse must know its way home because they arrive back at the Manor in record time. Steve lowers Uncle Basile down from the horse, he seems weak and tired from the excitement. As Steve hops down off the horse next to Basile. A distant look comes over his Uncle’s face. “I must excuse myself, I will not be having lunch with you.” “The cook will prepare whatever you desire.” With that Uncle Basile walks in through the front door of the Manor.
Steve hurries after him, he has so many questions. “Uncle, wait!” he calls out entering the main hall, finding it empty. “Uncle Basile?” he calls again. Where could that tired old man have gone so quickly?” Steve turns to the doors to the Study. Throwing them open he finds only the Butler Charmers waiting inside.
Philadelphia Elite Squad
1st Precinct
Philadelphia, Pa
On his lunch break after checking the New York City police logs Paddy decides to give David Rogers a call, to see if Steve just went to work straight from his date. It sounds ridiculous, Steve getting lucky on a first date is like the moon falling from the sky. “Hey, David its Paddy, I was just wondering if Steve made it to work today?”
“Well at least now that I know his secret it explains his lack of dependability,” David replies to Paddy.
“So, you are saying that he never showed,” Paddy inquired. “That is unlike him, if something happened he would have called with an excuse or some kind.”
“I was thinking the same thing, I’ve spent the morning trying to figure out where he might be,” David explains. “I know he had that date with the girl in New York,” “My first thought was to give her a call, I found her number in Steve’s desk, but I thought better of it.” “There is no reason to upset her unnecessarily.” “Chances are it has nothing to do with her, not like that guy got a real sleepover on the second date.”
“My line of thought exactly,” Paddy replies with a chuckle. “There have been no Master Warrior sightings in Philly or New York in the past twenty-four, so what does that leave?”
“I did find something in his desk other than the girl’s number,” David reveals. “Did you know that Steve has a cousin?” “Jayson Roberts, he’s a local boy, got a rap sheet as long as my arm.” “Looks to me like Steve had been doing some research on him.”
“Steve did mention that he met him when he was still on the force,” Paddy explains. “Jayson is the son of Steve’s father’s cousin.” “Steve had only met him once when they were still children.” “A while back Jayson had gained Zeni-human powers from an alien parasite.”
“When you say alien, I assume you don’t mean from Mexico,” David comments.
“No, much farther out,” Paddy chuckles. “It takes a while to get used to traveling in this circle.” “You learn that things most people think are fiction are real.”
“Like cursed houses in Ohio,” David retorts. “It would seem that Jayson was spotted in San Diego, Steve has the name Eileen McCoy and a phone number written down on one of the folders.” “That mean anything to you?”
“Eileen McCoy is a San Diego cop we worked with before on a case,” Paddy explains. “Maybe Steve was going to give her a call about Jayson?” “Tell you what I’ll follow that lead, give officer McCoy a call when I get back to the precinct, check to see if Steve booked a flight to the east coast.”
“Sounds good, I’ve got some free time this afternoon,” David says. “I’ll check in on Jayson Roberts’ parents, see if they know what he has been up to lately.” “Can we meet at your place around six, I was swinging by to pick up Julie anyway.”
“Make it 6:30,” Paddy says. “I have to make some stops on the way home.”
Cassandra Estate Manor
The Kitchen
Scarlett, The Isle of Man,
United Kingdom
Charmers had told Steve to busy himself in the Study while he attended the Master, but it has been over an hour and he is ready for some lunch. Leaving the Study into the front hall Steve makes his way to the back of the house where he finds the servant stairs down to the basement. He’s been on enough tours of old houses like this to know that most often the kitchen was in the basement. He begins down the old stone steps under the front hall stairs. He can already smell the scent of a pungent stew, he would guess. The smell guides him to the large old kitchen. Suddenly he hears a loud crash that hurries his feet down the steps. Arriving in the kitchen it is big enough to prepare a banquet for a hundred.
“Well hello dear,” the Irish accent of the cook says as she comes up behind him. “Whatever are you doing down here?” The short and rather plump woman takes Steve by the arm.
“I heard a crash, did something break?” Steve asks, looking around the kitchen.
“Oh, I just dropped an old bowl,” the cook says, looking unnerved. “Let’s get you back up the stairs to the dinning room where I can serve you lunch then,” she says, guiding him back out of the kitchen.
“No, no, that’s fine,” Steve insists, brushing the cook off his arm. He takes off his jacket to fold it over his arm. “I’m here now, you can just give me my lunch here.” “Uncle Basile said he would not be eating so there is no need for you to drag my food all the way up there.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” the cook says, looking off to the side of the room. “It is unheard of for the Master of the Manor to take meals in the kitchen,” the cook says.
“Don’t be silly, I am not Master of the Manor,” Steve says, walking over to the cook’s work table to pull up a chair. “This will be just fine.” Steve hangs his jacket over the back of the chair to take a seat at the table. He takes notice of the fruit bowl shattered on the floor by the wall. “Tell me what your name is?”
“Mrs. Charmers,” the cook replies, looking uncomfortable as she goes back to work at the old wood stove off to the side of the kitchen.
“So you are the Butler’s wife?” Steve asks.
“No, he is my brother, the Mrs. title is just what is used for one of my positions,” she explains.
“So you are not married?” Steve asks. “I’ve tasted your cooking.” “Surely on the Isle of Man a woman of your talents could find love.”
Mrs. Charmers giggled, not looking back at the young man. “The Manor takes up most of my time, I have little left for a husband or family.” “What of you, Young Master, have you found your soulmate?” The cook turns back away from the stove smiling at Steve. “You know that the rules of the Estate say you may only have one.”
“You are the third person to mention these rules of the Estate,” Steve replies. “What exactly are these rules anyway?”
“I have misspoken, that is not for me to say,” the cook replies as someone else enters the room.
It is the Butler Charmers. “She is correct, it is not our place to explain such things to you,” the imposing servant says. “Amara, return to the preparation of the midday meal.” “If the young Master would like to learn about the Estate then I shall take him to the library where he can learn all he needs to know.”
Steve’s curiosity about these two finally gets the best of him as he asks, “When did the two of you come here from Ireland?” “You both seem to be very versed in all things Cassandra Manor Estate oriented.”
“We are not from Ireland, now come along,” Charmers says gruffly, taking Steve by the arm to lift him from the kitchen chair. The old man is stronger than he appears. Steve reaches out to grab his jacket from the back of the chair.
“I will bring your lunch to you there,” Mrs. Charmers calls to Steve. “A hearty Stew and fresh baked bread after your morning adventure.” As Charmers leads Steve up the stairs he can’t help but to think how odd it is that the cook mentioned his morning adventure. He never told her what happened at the cliff. “Now run along to the library to read that book.” Steve looks back over his shoulder at the cook working at the old stove.
Cassandra Estate Manor
The Library
Scarlett, The Isle of Man,
United Kingdom
Charmers leads Steve up the stairs to the first floor where he takes him to a room he had not seen before. It is clearly the Library. All four walls are lined with bookshelves to the top of the fifteen foot ceiling. There is a spiral staircase that leads up to a balcony-like catwalk that encompasses the room like a second floor of book shelves. Steve marvels at the amount of books in the room. “This place is so big how do you keep track of all of the books?”
“There is no need for that, the Manor is self-sufficient,” Charmers replies. “Some of the books that contain the family history of Cassandra Estate Manor.” “Those are located on the shelves nearest the fireplace on the right.” Charmers points across the room to a wall that has a large fireplace in the center of it. “The books on the left hold other references to the Manor and the Estate.”
Steve lays his jacket on the arm of an overstuffed leather sofa as Charmers gives him a glare before turning to leave him alone in the room of books. He can almost swear he heard the click of a lock closing on the door, but laughs off the thought of it.
After Charmers leaves him, Steve crosses the room glancing over the bindings of many tomes on the wall at the right side of the room. He notices author names like Dickens, Shakespeare and Homer. From the look of the books they might very well be first additions. Arriving at the shelves on the right side of the fireplace he can see the volumes that read; Cartridge I thru VI on the binding, followed by many more. Oddly there are a few volumes missing; there is no VII, VIII, or IX.
His attention is drawn away to the other side of the fireplace as one of the books is slid halfway out of its place on the shelf. This is truly the strangest of places Steve thinks as he steps over to look at the book’s binding, that reads “Cassandra Manor Estate”. Clearly this is the book he is looking to read to learn this place’s secrets. Taking the book from the shelf it is bound in leather, which is not surprising due to its age. It is rather heavy, the covers might actually be made of wood slabs under the leather binding, he guesses. Steve opens the book to find the inside cover blank but aged on the edges. The pages are old and dry but not crumbly as one might think. But when he flips through the pages he finds that it is completely blank.
Steve then hears movement from behind him. Like a reflex he almost forgot he had Steve is triggered onto a defensive stance. Tossing the old book onto a nearby end table he turns, reaching for his arsenal on his right leg. Steve finds the room behind him as empty as the pages of the book as his hand grips at his pant leg. Steve looks to his hand wondering, why was he doing that? Perhaps a nervous tick?
Steve sits down in the chair next to the end table. This is meant to be a reading nook in front of the fire, but Steve uses it as a view point to study the room. Although his danger sense has not warned him, he still has the feeling he is not alone, like back in his room when he awoke this morning. He studies everything in the library looking for something to tell him he is not losing his mind.
Why is it that with everything he has seen and learned in the past five years, the concept of ghosts in an old Manor house is still so ridiculous? “Hello?” he calls out in the empty library. “Is there something here?” “A ghost of a Master or Lady of the Manor past?” The room remains still and quiet as he continues to scan it for any sign of movement. “This is stupid!” Steve announces just as Mrs. Charmers enters the room.
“What is stupid dear?” she asks as she pushes the rolling cart with a soup tureen on it into the room. “Come take a seat at the table.” The cook stops the cart at a study table near the door of the library where she retrieves a bowl and silverware from under the cart. She creates a place setting for him as he walks over to get his lunch.
“Are there ghosts in the Manor?” Steve asks feeling stupid even saying it out loud.
“Ghost?” Mrs. Charmers repeats. “There are many kinds of ghosts, ghosts of memories or regrets.” “Ghost of love lost or opportunities not taken.” “Some would say there are hundreds of ghosts in this old Manor.”
Steve sits down at the table to lay the book he was reading down. There is another book laying on the table open to the first chapter as if someone else has been reading it and left suddenly. His attention is drawn away from the book as the cook serves the stew from the tureen. “I mean ghosts that are the lost souls of dead people,” Steve says to her, taking a spoon to taste what she has prepared.
“Oh Dear, those kinds of ghosts are legends,” Mrs. Charmers tells him. “For them to exist in the real world you must give them power, magic.” “This place may serve as a magic stronghold, but creating ghosts is not one of its powers.” She looks over to the book that Steve carried with him to the table, knowing it on sight. “Or they need an appropriate host.” “I see you found the book, you must not have gotten to that part yet.”
Wiping his mouth and mustache with a linen napkin Steve says, “Can you read that book?” “What is written in it?”
“Why no, only the Master of the Manor or one in line to be the Master can read the words in that book,” Mrs. Charmers tells him. Steve is quiet as he takes several more spoonfuls of the stew. He thinks over everything he has learned since he woke up here this morning and not much of it is making sense to him. “Surely you need to read further to understand that,” the cook comments. “How is the stew?”
“Delicious,” Steve replies, wiping his mouth again. “What kind is it?”
“Venison, fresh, butchered just yesterday,” the cook replies. “It will give you the spirit you need to learn all you can about the Estate.”
“You must be right, I will continue to read the book,” Steve nods, taking a bite of the freshly baked bread. Or find another book in this library to explain what is going on, he thinks.
Moving back to the fireplace, Steve spends the rest of the afternoon reading through as many books as possible to find anything to answer the questions he has about the Estate. It is late afternoon when Charmers arrives to take him back to his room. “I have prepared a bath for you before dinner,” the grim Butler says.
Steve’s eyes are tired of reading anyway, they could use a rest. Most likely he has learned all he can from these books. Getting up from the chair he walks back to the table where Mrs. Charmers served him lunch. The book that was laying open on the table is now turned nearly to the end. He remembers that it had only been opened to the first chapter when he ate lunch. Stepping behind the chair at the book he glances at it. How odd, the handwriting looks like his own, he thinks. That’s just ridiculous! I guess handwriting might be hereditary.
“Come along now, young sir,” Charmers encourages. Steve follows the Butler back up the staircase not bothering to ask any more questions. If he has learned one thing it is that Charmers is by no means going to answer them. Entering the bedchamber Steve tosses his jacket on the bed. “You have made yourself at home here, haven’t you,” Charmers comments.
“I must admit in the time I have spent here it has begun to feel like home to me,” Steve replies as Charmers leads him into the on-suite of his bedroom where the large cast iron claw foot bathtub has been filled with steaming hot water. Charmers closes the door to the moderately sized room to take a position standing with his back against the door.
“You can go, I can handle taking a bath by myself,” Steve tells the grim Butler as he begins to unbutton his shirt.
“I am in charge of your service and I must remain,” Charmers replies, not moving. Steve can’t help but to wonder if the Butler just wants to watch him take a bath or if there is a much more sinister reason for his guardianship.
Removing his shirt Steve drops it to the floor near the toilet. Continuing his striptease Steve tosses his pants on to the floor trying to get a rise out of the Butler. Bending down to pull off his socks Steve gets a whiff of himself. “You might be right about this bath,” Steve says, sliding his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear. “I could use a fresh pair of underwear after my bath.” Steve tosses his two day old tidy whities on the pile of clothes. Nude he turns to step over the side of the tub. The water is warm on his left foot and calf as he pulls his second foot into the tub. As he moves to slide down into the water the fragrance of the steamy bath catches his nose. “What is in the water?” Steve asks, “It smells wonderful.”
“Just some herbs to help you relax,” Charmers replies, stepping away from the door toward the tub.
“Are you sure you aren’t a cook too, it smells like your sister’s stew,” Steve laughs, sitting back in the tub his body tingles from the outside to inside. Almost instantly Steve begins to feel a wonderfully relaxed soak. All of his senses come alive as he reclines in the tub of seasoned water. His arms feel heavy as only his shoulders and head remain above the surface of the bath water.
“Having you ingest the herbs as well as soak in them gives the potion the extra potency it needs to work on one with your stamina,” Charmers murmurs as he steps up to the edge of the tub. The Butler looks over the nude body of the man in the tub to inspect him. It is all going as planned.
Steve looks up at Charmers with a smile as he giggles, “I feel fantastic.” He looks down at his body submerged in the warm fragrant water. “I have never felt this relaxed in my life!” he chuckles, his eyes glassy. “Why would you need to do this?”
“To get the truth,” Charmers replies, taking off his coat to roll up his sleeves as he squatting down next to the bathtub to look Steve in the eyes.
“You don’t need to use a potion to get me to tell the truth,” Steve smiles, “I’m not a very good liar.”
Charmers is not amused by the humor of the situation. “What is your name?” he asks with intensity.
“Steven Andrew Roberts, Jr,” the man in the bathtub answers with a grin.
Charmers does not look pleased at the response. “Who are you?” The Butler asks, almost demanding the answer. Charmers slides his hand into the bath water. “Why are you here?”
Steve has a grin on his face as if he is drunk as he looks to the Butler’s hand moving closer to his body. He can feel the heat emitting from the other man’s hand as it warms the water more. “I am grandnephew of Basile Roberts and heir to Cassandra Manor Estate.”
“NO, no!” Charmers shouts as his hand moves to only inches from Steve’s hip hovering in the water as if he intends to grab Steve in the most intimate of areas. “Who are you really?” “What is the title you earned in a tournament?”
Steve can feel the heat radiating from the Butler’s hand on his skin. It stirs a fear in him, making him want to react. But when Steve goes to move he finds that it feels like his body weighs tons. Or is it the water that holds him down to the bottom of the tub as the increasing heat in the tub begins to bubble on the surface. “MASTER WARRIOR!” Steve shouts in a panicked tone. “I am called Master Warrior!”
Charmers draws his hand back from the water analyzing the emotions on Steve’s face. “It is worse than we guessed,” he says almost as if to himself. “In only a day you have nearly forgotten who and what you really are.” Steve lays frightened in the tub as Charmers again reaches into the water between his feet. This time it is only to pull the drain plug to allow the water to escape.
The water drains quickly but Steve lays nude and unmoving in the large tub. Charmers reach for the sprayer hose on the faucet. Turning on the cold water he begins to rinse Steve’s still body. “When all of the potion is rinsed from your body you will remember little of what has happened,” Charmers tells the nude man still lying motionless in the tub. The Butler lifts Steve’s arms and then his legs to rinse them clean. As the rest of the potion flows down the drain Steve’s mobility is restored. The large man is still groggy as Charmers helps him to stand so he can finish rinsing his body. When Charmers wraps his charge in a clean fresh bath towel from the rail on the wall behind the tub he takes Steve’s face with both hands insisting, “You must remember who you are!” “To save both your life and the Life of Lord Basile you can not forget you are Master Warrior!” The Butler then helps Steve out of the tub to sit him down on a chair near the window.
Wrapped in the towel Steve gazes out the window at the setting sun. It is the cool draft from around the old window frame that brings him back to his senses. He looks around the large on-suite bathroom. He is alone. The tub is empty and his dirty clothes are gone. “Charmers?” he calls out to no response. Standing up his joints feel strangely stiff. Not a very Master Warrior thing to be feeling, he thinks. Walking back to the bedroom, the Butler is nowhere to be found. But on a suit rack there is a fresh change of clothes complete with a clean pair of underwear waiting for him.
Steve Roberts & Patrick Berger’s apartment
1701 Tulip St
The Fishtown section
Philadelphia, Pa
David Rogers and Julie Snyder sit on the front steps of the apartment complex holding hands and talking as Paddy gets out of his car. He goes to the back seat door to retrieve his dry cleaning before heading over to them. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” Paddy says as he approaches.
“Like I said Julie and I had plans so I was coming by anyway,” David replies as the couple stands up. “Let me grab what I found out from my car and we can compare notes.”
“Just remember the movie starts at 7:55, so don’t take too long,” Julie tells them, giving David a kiss on the cheek before going back inside.
In his apartment Paddy lays his dry cleaning over a chair in the kitchen. Grabbing two beers from the frig. He sits down at the table as David arrives at the door. “Come on in,” he calls out. The two men sit down at the table to break open the beers. Paddy takes several files from his brief case as David opens the notebook he brought from his car.
“Turns out Jayson isn’t on very good terms with his parents,” David begins. “His mother, Erin, says she hasn’t seen him since he was cured of cancer.” “Said when he woke up it was like he was a different person.” “She told me that before the cancer Jayson had been a rich man, he was supporting his parents.” “After the cancer ordeal Jayson was broke and he deserted his parents completely.” “Didn’t even show up at his father Gerald’s funeral.”
“Well, I gave Eileen McCoy a call, she doesn’t know anything about Jayson’s whereabouts,” Paddy explains. “But there were fragments of the orange matter that Jayson’s power creates found at a murder scene in a garage a few years back.” “The place was owned by a Russian criminal organization, so it was never really followed up on.” “When she went to the evidence locker to have a look, the small shards dissolved when exposed to air.”
“Do you think Jayson is working with the Russians in some way?” David asks.
“There is no way to be sure, but it is unlikely,” Paddy answers.” Eileen told me that the man Jayson murdered was a paid hit, most likely not by the Russians.”
“Most likely?” David repeats, “Is that a new police term I am unfamiliar with?”
“She didn’t give me much but I got the feeling she knew who hired Jayson, but couldn’t tell me.” Paddy flips open another file. “After talking to Eileen I did a nationwide search on similar orange shards found at murder scenes.” “It would appear that Jayson has become a hit man by the name of the Badger.”
David flips throw the pages in the file of many unsolved murder cases across the nation with the same orange shard calling cards. Most of them are in major cities. Looking at the dates he can tell that the Badger’s hits went from the east coast to the west coast and are now heading back to the east. “Steve didn’t have any information like this in the file he was compiling,” David confirms.
“He never called Eileen, I asked her,” Paddy reveals. “Moreover he does not have access to the same Law Enforcement databases that I do.” “Take notice that the Badger’s last hit was in Chicago, it might be possible that he made his next trip to New York and Steve crossed paths with him there.”
“Then why no Master Warrior sightings?” David asks.
Steve might have gone after Jayson on the down-low because of the family connection,” Paddy explains. “He wouldn’t want to take the risk of sending Jayson to jail screaming about how Master Warrior was his cousin.”
“Do you think the Badger did something to Steve then?” David asks somberly.
“There really is no way to be sure, we just have to wait to see what happens,” Paddy confesses.
“I think I liked it better when I just thought Steve was an inconsiderate lazy ass,” David announces. “I feel like we should go looking for him, check the train ticket sales.”
“He told me he was taking the train too, but my guess is that was a cover story, chances are he flew there under his own power,” Paddy suggests.
“He can do that, fly all the way to New York City?” David quizzes.
“He’d probably have a crushing headache by the time he got home but his flight vest could get him there and back,” Paddy reveals. “I say we give it another day for him to turn up, then we start hunting down the Badger.”
Cassandra Estate Manor
The Dining Room
Scarlett, The Isle of Man,
United Kingdom
Steve arrives in the dining room dressed for dinner to see that the table is again set with an elaborate set of glassware, china and cutlery. Uncle Basile is noticeably absent. Steve takes a seat at the table to momentarily look over the array of cutlery again.
When Uncle Basile arrives in the dining room Steve can’t help but to notice that he looks much more invigorated than when he last saw him. Steve watches his every move as he takes his seat at the table. “Please forgive my tardiness,” Basile says as he looks across the table at Steve.
“That is fine, I know you were tired after what happened at the cliffs,” Steve says to comfort Uncle Basile on his late arrival. Steve’s attention is drawn to the lines on Uncle Basile’s face, there are noticeably less of them. It is as if he is ten years younger. Oddly his curiosity disappears as Mrs. Charmers begins to serve dinner.
After dinner Charmers serves Steve and Uncle Basile, they move to the study for Scotch. Steve sips at the Scotch and for the first time in his life the alcohol seems to have an effect on him. His face feels fuzzy as he begins to forget the age change in his uncle. They talk and joke about things that Steve would have never imagined he would in his life.
Steve and Basile spend hours talking and laughing forming a bond of friendship. It is nearly midnight when Steve makes the trip to his bedroom. He strips off the clothes created by the Manor to leave them lying on the floor at the side of the bed. If he had even cared he would have seen as his clothing was absorbed into the floorboards. Steve lay back in the soft sheets of the bed to drift off into a dreamless sleep.
Monday, March 28, 1988
Cassandra Estate Manor
Scarlett, The Isle of Man,
United Kingdom
Monday morning Steve wakes up in the four poster bed he has become accustomed to in this short time. He dresses in the clothes laid out for him as he slept to head down to breakfast. The morning is slightly different with Uncle Basile arriving late to breakfast wearing the same clothing from the day prior. Basile is still noticeably different than he was when Steve first met him. He appears rather tired this morning as if he did not sleep much the previous night. When Steve asks Basile if there is something wrong he simply replies, “Everything is as it is meant to be.” A strange reply to be sure.
After breakfast they go for another horseback ride this time to the southwest region of the Estate. There they explore the ruins of the tenant farmer’s village. Basile explains how all of the tenant farmers abandon the Estate in search of more exciting lives elsewhere. The village is rundown and dilapidated all except for an old stone church and the cemetery that is adjacent. Steve is curious about the size of the church for such a small village. When Steve shows an interest in the church, Basile tells him it is time to return to the Manor for lunch.
After lunch Uncle Basile takes Steve to the Study to go over maps of the Estate. Basile impresses on Steve the importance of every area of the grounds. Most of it is simplistic, like something out of the early 1900’s. Steve finds himself very suited to life on the Estate. Steve’s real life as a private detective seems eons away. He takes in every aspect of the Estate letting his own life slip away. He can’t help but to imagine how his life would be if he remained on the Estate. The thought of leaving is the farthest thing from his mind.
Steve returns to his bedroom before dinner having no memory of his bath from the previous night. Not even as Charmers stands at the bathroom door is anything triggered. It is not until Charmers lays his hands on Steve’s face does it all come back to him. Then again the strange bath time activities slipped from his mind.
All through dinner the words “I am Master Warrior” run through Steve’s mind. He remains silent about his thoughts as does Uncle Basile through most of the meal. His uncle has been rather withdrawn today. Not as friendly as the previous day but just as welcoming to him. Once again after dinner they go to the Study for a Scotch. Tonight the conversation is much more sedate and it is around 10 O’clock when they retire for the night.
It is around three in the morning when Steve is awakened by a piercing scream in the night. Jumping from his bed Steve throws on a robe that hangs on his bedpost. Rushing out into the hall he follows the sound of the screams to find Uncle Basile’s bed chamber. As large as Steve’s bedroom is, this one is twice the size. The king sized bed somehow seems small in the large room. Steve rushes to his Uncle’s bed side to find the elderly man racked with panic and covered in sweat. “Uncle Basile, are you alright?” Steve asks climbing onto the high bed to sit with the old man. Basile’s whole body shakes in fear as Steve tries to calm him. “Everything is going to be okay, Uncle Basile, its me, Steve.” “What happened?”
The older man seems as feeble as he did the first day after their horseback ride down by the cliffs as he says, “She was here, trying to get into my mind.”
Steve’s sharp eyes scans the room for any sign of someone else in the room. There is no one. “Who was here, Uncle?” Steve asks, taking the elderly man’s forearms that flail. “Did someone attack you in your sleep?”
Then a sudden calmness comes over Basile. The old man uses Steve to pull himself up into a seated position with his back against the headboard. He too scans the room apparently finding something Steve could not see. “It was just a dream my boy,” Uncle Basile says, his eyes pinned on a point near the window. “Just a dream of hope.” “Go back to your room and leave me alone, I will be fine.” “That is as long as I am left be!”
The whole thing seems very strange to Steve. In truth of the things that have happened at Cassandra Manor he can not think of one that was not strange. Steve drops down from the bed to the floor to leave the room. He stops at the door to look back at the small man in the large bed. “Are you sure you will be alright, Uncle?” Steve asks.
“Yes, yes,” Basile replies. “Just leave the door open for a few minutes to let the bad dreams out.” Steve does as he is told, leaving the door open as he begins the walk back to his room. When he is several yards down the hall he hears Uncle Basile say, “Good night, Dear,” followed by the door closing of its own accord.
Tuesday, March 29, 1988
Trademark Investigations
1267 Pimlico Avenue
Camden, NJ
Detective Berger arrives at the office of Trademark investigations with a packed bag. “So are you up for a road trip, I got a few days off,” he tells David Rogers who sits at his desk finishing up the last of several early morning phone calls.
“I figured you’d be by, I’ve cleared my appointments for the day,” David says, lifting a duffle bag from the floor to the desk. “I’m all set to begin the search for Steve and Jayson Roberts.” “In fact I got us a room in the same block as Jayson Roberts old business office.”
“You mean business front,” Berger corrects. “It only makes sense that Jayson would return to his old stomping ground after earning some money.” “I called an old friend at the NYPD, told him we were coming and didn’t want to step on any toes.” “He said I should give him a call if there was any trouble.”
“Do you expect trouble we can’t handle?” David asks, grabbing his keys from his desk drawer.
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know what to expect,” Paddy replies. “I’ve never been on a rescue mission for a Superhero before this.” “I do know that Steve is going to be pissed if either of us gets hurt.” “Since I learned his secret, he has been rather overprotective about me taking unnecessary risks.”
“I just keep thinking about our trip to Ohio and the shit that happened in that cave,” David says. “Makes me feel like a shitty detective that I didn’t figure it out sooner.”
Cassandra Estate Manor
Scarlett, The Isle of Man,
United Kingdom
Tuesday morning there is no sign of Uncle Basile at breakfast. When Steve asks Charmers, “How is Uncle Basile this morning?” “He had something of a bad dream last night.”
Charmers replies in his calm tone, “The Master had some business to attend today, he will not be joining you until dinner, this evening.”
The very vague answer oddly enough does not raise any suspicion with Steve as he finished his breakfast. After Breakfast Steve decides to take a hike around the Estate. In previous days with Uncle Basile he has seen many dangerous and wonderful things on the Estate property from horseback. Today will be different, on foot and on his own he can get a better idea of what life here is really like. The Estate appears to be very secluded. The only people he has met are the Charmers and Uncle Basile.
Yesterday Uncle Basile took him to the ruins of some of the old tenet farmer’s homes. Clearly this was once a productive and thriving farmland. What caused that to change he wonders as he begins the walk toward the old village. It is a few miles to the village from the Manor. It is a hike that Steve makes without even breaking a sweat. Coming up over the hill to look down on the abandoned houses and barns he can see that at the heart of the village is the old church. It strikes him as odd that in a place so filled with magic that there would still be room for religion.
Steve begins down the old dirty road that descends through the grass and wildflower covered hill to the village. The Estate is a beautiful place if you know where to look. The sun shining down on the flowers as a breeze blows over him, you would never guess that a few miles to the east there are spiders the size of dogs.
Walking into the village, Steve heads toward the church looking over each one of the abandoned buildings along the main street. Uncle Basile told him that all of the tenant farmers left at the beginning of the twentieth Century to seek their fortunes elsewhere. It sounded odd to him at first, but he thinks he can understand why now that he walks the street of the village. The world was changing at the turn of the century, people began to want more than just to be simple farmers.
Arriving at the front of the church it seems to be better maintained than the rest of the buildings in the village, something that drew his attention yesterday before Uncle Basile called him away. The paint on the wooden shutters of the stone chapel that are tightly closed appear to be only a few years old, not a century. Steve strolls around to the cemetery that is located to the side and back of the church yard. All of the headstones are weather worn and covered in moss. Steve walks through the graveyard eyeing the dates on the stones, some of them dating back to the 1600’s. Steve walks to the back of the church spotting something he didn’t expect to see, a newly covered grave.
Making his way toward the grave with fresh dirt on it he spies the name on the stone, Leonard Palmer, with the birth date of March 5, 1980 and the date of death to be January 12, 1988. How is that possible? he thinks. Uncle Basile told him that all of the villagers left at the turn of the century over eighty years ago. This child died only a few weeks ago. Steve turns back to the out of place church that is as pristine on the back as the front.
Jogging over the high grass back to the front of the church Steve again is impressed by the size of the building, it is clearly more than a simple chapel for worship. He goes up the wooden stairs to the well painted front door. His hand moves to squeeze the latch to open the door and step inside.
The young man dressed in period garb feels a strong rush of air over his body as he crosses the threshold. Looking to his hands he realizes he is now dressed as Master Warrior. “What is going on here?” he says out loud. Looking up to the chapel in front of him, Master Warrior is surprised at the sight of the people gathered there. Men, Women, and Children of all ages in the small chapel, nearly seventy-five by his guess. Some sit in the pews, others stand in the aisle talking in groups. Most of them dressed in farming attire. The amount of people in the small sanctuary explains the size of the rest of the church building. His entrance comes as a surprise to all of them as everyone looks at the brightly dressed man.
“Who are you, you can not be here!” one of the over-all dressed men says walking toward Master Warrior.
“I can’t be here?” Master Warrior questions. “Who are all of you people?” The man charges closer to Master Warrior not at all in a welcoming fashion. His group of friends followed close behind him.
Then a woman with two small children in a pew steps up into the aisle to intervene. “Chuck, calm down, I think he might be here to help,” she says, stopping the angry man in his tracks.
“Help!” Chuck shouts. “Look at the way he is dressed, how can he help us?”
“That is a good question,” Master Warrior replies. “Who are you people?”
“We are the tenet families of the village,” the woman says. “My name is Valerie Goldsmith, Val and this is my husband, Chuck.”
“It is nice to meet you Val and Chuck,” Master Warrior says, reaching out his hand to shake that the angry man ignores. “I was told no one has lived in the village since the turn of the century.”
“Then it is worse than we thought,” Val says, stepping past her husband to shake Master Warrior’s hand. Chuck continues to make no effort to greet the new arrival. “Could that much time have passed outside?” Master Warrior looks over the crowd of people in confusion. All of them appear dressed in modern clothing not at all like people from the nineteenth century.
“No, that has not happened,” A man from the front of the church says as he begins to make his way through the crowded chapel. The men that stood behind Chuck step aside to allow the Pastor through. “I am Pastor McGregor and our families have lived on the Cassandra Estate for generations and that is not possible.” “Magic has always protected us.”
“So you know about magic?” Master Warrior says to the Pastor. “I have to admit a church in the center of all of this supernatural power is surprising.”
“Lord Cartridge’s magic was not evil by any means,” Pastor McGregor explains. “He cast the spell to protect everyone who lived on the Estate from evil.” “But as a concession he allowed this church to be one of the places on the Estate untouched by the spell and immune to magic, as a Sanctuary for the Villagers.”
Chuck’s temper seems to cool as he speaks. “When our crops began to wither in the space of a day and our homes began to crumble we knew it was a warning.” “We needed to find sanctuary here in the church.”
“A warning of what?” Master Warrior asks.
“A warning that evil had come to the Estate, something we knew could not get into our Sanctuary.” Chuck tells the stranger.
“Most of us had never experienced such an attack on the Estate.” “Those of us that had gathered here knowing our only hope was to wait it out in the safety of the Church,” Val explains. “The burning question is how did you get here?”
“I am heir to the Estate,” Master Warrior explains. “I have been summoned to learn what that entails.”
“That is not possible,” Pastor McGregor responded. “I met the next heir to the Estate decades ago. “I’ll admit that you do resemble him but he would be in his fifties by now. “I recall him being thinner in build than you as well.” “So the question remains, who are you?”
Master Warrior is caught by surprise by the Pastor’s statement. The Pastor is clearly talking about his father, but how could he possibly see the family resemblance through his disguise? “Does someone here have a mirror?” Master Warrior asks. An elderly woman steps forward from one of the pews, holding out a small hand mirror she has taken from her handbag. “Thank you,” he says, taking the small mirror from the woman. He holds it up to his face to discover what the Pastor says is true, he too can clearly see his face. “It would appear that your church really does cancel all magic.” Master Warrior hands the mirror back to the woman giving her a smile that she returns, something most people can’t see him do. “I use magic to conceal my identity, that seems to have been turned off.” “I believe the man you met was my father.”
“Then the only way you could take his place as heir would be if he was dead,” Pastor McGregor explains. “Is your father dead?”
“No, so that begs the question, why has Uncle Basile been lying to me?” Master Warrior suggests.
It is then that the older of the children that was sitting with Val gets up and tugs at her leg. “Momma, I know who he is,” the boy says. “He is Master Warrior, he’s a Superhero from America.” “I’ve seen him on the telly.”
“You have a television here?” Master Warrior questions in surprise knowing how antiquated the Manor is.”
“Of course we are not cut off from the outside world, only protected,” Val explains. “I do believe I have heard of this Master Warrior, he was recently at the London City Airport.” “But that man’s face is never clear in pictures.” “How can we be sure you are who you say you are?”
The boy steps forward to approach Master Warrior. “I saw you save a whole bus of children, why don’t you show us how strong you are to prove you are Master Warrior?” he says, smiling innocently.
“That is a very good idea, young man,” Master Warrior says, looking around the church for something to display his strength on. “But it would appear that everything inside the church is nailed down so to speak.” “Perhaps this will be enough.” Master Warrior turns to take a few steps toward the door to take flight. He skillfully flies around over the people gathered in the chapel through the open rafters. He touches down to the floor again at the front of the church near the altar. The children in the chapel applaud as Master Warrior walks back to the group. He has never been more grateful that his flight vest is based in science and not Mist’s magic.
“Perhaps, you can help us,” Pastor McGregor says, making his way to Master Warrior at the midway of the aisle. “What was the date when you came in here?”
“It was March 29th, 1988, why do you ask?” Master Warrior replies.
“Then it has only been a few weeks since we entered the Church,” Val says. “I had feared that the evil magic outside had somehow sped up time.”
“If you are as powerful as the children believe you must find the evil that has come to the Manor and defeat it,” Pastor McGregor insists. “Only then will things return to normal on the Estate and we can feel safe again.”
“I promise you it is now my top priority that I will do what I can to help the people of this village,” Master Warrior tells the people gathered in the chapel. “Whoever is behind this has clearly made Uncle Basile lie to me.” “So freeing him from whatever hold there is on him will be where I start.” “I know right where to start looking.”
“Before you go take this,” Pastor McGregor says, handing Master Warrior a newly minted coin. “If anything happens to you, perhaps it will help you remember.”
When Master Warrior steps through the front door of the church the evil magic that Valerie Goldsmith spoke of takes hold of him again. As the old wood door of the church closes the sky opens up and pours down a deluge of rain on him. Steve falls to his knees, his costume gone and the clothing he wore before he entered the sanctuary church returned. Instantly soaked to the skin he crawls down the wooden stairs to the cobblestone path at the bottom. It is there that he sits looking up into the rain that falls on his face. Steve Roberts stands up as if in a daze as he slips the coin in his hand into his pants pocket. He wanders aimlessly down the street in the downpour until he is outside the village. Only then do his senses return to him.
The sky clears and a warm breeze blows over Steve making him shiver slightly as he begins to walk back to the Manor. His thoughts of the village have faded from his mind, replaced by thoughts of the cook’s lunch.
Harlem Tour Motel
33 W 106th St
New York, NY
Paddy and David check into their Motel room. It is neither the cleanest or freshest smelling room either of the have ever stayed in. “I’m pretty sure I don’t need to be a detective to figure out there has been a murder in this room at some point,” Paddy jokes at the sight of the bed spread. “Was this the only place on the block?”
“Believe it or not Jayson Roberts owned this place before he went bankrupt,” David explains. “Records show he even lived here for a time while he was cultivating his business connections.” “I suspect that he might have liquidated his assets to someone he thought he might be able to retrieve them from easily.” “The reports on his ego imply that in no way did he believe he was going to die.” “He was a big believer in money can buy anything.” “I had given Jayson’s mother my card in case she heard from him.” “I checked my messages at the front desk, when we arrived.” “To my surprise she called me a couple of hours ago.” “Said she had received a check in the mail for five thousand dollars.” “The return address is a warehouse not far from here.”
“Sounds like a convenient time for his Jayson to send his mother money after all of these years,” Paddy comments. “Could very well mean she was lying to you before and this is a trap.”
“Could be, but she doesn’t know why we are looking for Jayson,” David retorts. “Or the fact that it isn’t Jayson we are looking for at all.” “My thought is we will find out all we can about this warehouse before we go anywhere near it.” “See if anyone else has been asking about it.”
“You mean Steve,” Paddy concluded. “I know just the place to ask some questions.” “Last time you and Steve were in New York he met a cop that I am guessing he would go to if he had any questions about his cousin.”
“You mean that Detective Prussia guy?” David suggests. “Steve didn’t give too good of a review about that guy, but you are right it makes sense that he would go to him as a police connection.”
Cassandra Estate Manor
Scarlett, The Isle of Man,
United Kingdom
It is at dinner that Uncle Basile makes his first appearance of the day. He sits down quietly next to Steve at the table simply greeting him with a smile. They have some small talk between courses about how each spent their day. Uncle Basile is very secretive on his activities of the day, simply referring to it as off the Estate business. Steve tells how he hiked to the old village to have a look around. He tells Uncle Basile nothing of meeting the villagers in the church, in fact he remembers nothing of the event at all.
“The village was just as you said, long abandoned,” Steve explains. “Strange thing was when I was getting out of my wet clothes I found this coin in my pocket.” Steve lays the newly minted coin on the table taking notice of the date of 1988 for the first time. That doesn’t seem right, he thinks. How could that have been in my pocket? Even a few months ago when he was in London and Paris, he never got any local coins. He quickly moves to retrieve the coin from the table, but not before Uncle Basile can pick it up.
“You most likely picked it up somewhere in the kitchen, I am always telling the cook to be more careful with her funds,” Uncle Basile says, as Steve reaches out to retrieve the coin.
“I will ask Mrs. Charmers the next time I see her,” Steve says
sliding the coin back into his pants pocket.
“After dinner I think it is time I showed you something very special here at the Manor,” Basile says with an unapproving grin.
After a glass of scotch in the Study, Uncle Basile gets up to stroll over to a wooden wall panel at the north side of the room. “The Manor has many secrets, very few are that of recreation.” “I would like to show you the most relaxing place on the Estate after a long stress-filled day. The Master of the Manor runs his finger along the edge of the molding at the top of the wood panel. The panel slides open to reveal a hidden stairway behind the wall. “Let’s take a walk.”
Steve places his glass on the table to get and cross the room. Secret panels and hidden passages explain how Uncle Basile vanished so quickly the other morning. Steve feels like an idiot not to realize it sooner. Stepping into the stairwell it is lit by glowing balls of light that almost appear to be bulbs but Steve can see no wires. He follows his Uncle down the winding steps that appear to have no end in sight.
Steve can not guess how far down the stairs led under the Manor but when the walls change from mortared stone to solid rock there is no question that they are below the foundation. “Are these caverns natural or man made?” Steve questions.
“If you are asking if they were carved by the labor of man, these caverns were not,” Uncle Basile replies. “The place I take you now is at the heart of the Estate where it all began.” “Long ago when Lord Cartridge Payne cast the spell of protection over the Estate these caverns were created to secure that power.” Farther and farther underground Steve is led by his Grand Uncle as he begins to feel a flare of his danger sense for the first time since arriving at Cassandra Estate. He will be on guard to whatever it is that awaits him at the bottom of these stairs.
The two men arrive in a chamber that is around the size of the massive dining room up in the Manor. The air is fresh, not at all what Steve would expect so far underground. It is also cool, probably around sixty degrees, which is something he would expect. The chamber is lit almost to that of several electric lamps, but there is no apparent source of that light, unlike the floating balls in the stairway.
At the center of the chamber is a pool of water on the floor. Lined with smooth field stones it is about ten feet in diameter. The water gives off a glow of its own, but not enough to light the whole chamber. Steam rises from the pool making it clear to Steve that the water is warmer than the chill in the cavern. “This is the Hot Spring that feeds the warmth of the Manor,” Uncle Basile explains. “It was here that Lord Payne cast his spell.” “It is the beginning and the end of all that is Cassandra Manor Estate.” “Nothing is more invigorating at the end of a long day than to bathe in its warm waters.”
Uncle Basile is acting stranger than usual this evening and when he starts to disrobe Steve is convinced his danger sense is right to warn him. Steve says nothing as the old man strips off all of his mid-century clothing to stand naked in the chill of the chamber. The old guy is in much better shape than he would have guessed, Steve thinks as the last of his clothing hits the stone floor.
“Come now, join me in a dip,” Uncle Basile says as he steps up to the edge of the pool.
“No, I think I will just head back to my room,” Steve replies. “I’ve already had my bath for the day.” Steve turns to leave through the passage from which they entered the chamber. To his surprise the entrance way is gone, the stone seamlessly sealed closed. Steve turns back to the man sitting on the field stones at the edge of the pool on the floor. “What the hell is going on?” he demands.
Uncle Basile has a much less benevolent look in his green eyes. “All that you wear is a product of the Estate,” Uncle Basile says bluntly, “You will share in the hot springs with me.” Instantly Steve finds himself naked in the cool air of the cavern. The shiny coin he carried in his pocket drops to the stone floor with a clink. The stone floor under Steve’s bare feet begins to bulge and shift. He is unable to hold his footing as he is lifted and moved toward the pool where Uncle Basile waits with a smile on his thin lips. Steve stumbles trying to regain his footing to escape the floor that moves like him through the chamber like an escalator. He knows it is too late when he hits the water with a large splash.
Steve plunges deep into the hot spring warmed water with no bottom in sight. The pool is much deeper than it looked as he finds himself sinking like a stone. Steve kicks and grapples with his arms to stop his descent in the water. When he at last stops his descent, he begins to fight to swim back to the surface that appears fifty feet above him. Steve’s danger sense flares confirming his fear that the water is somehow working against him. Steve has no idea how much time is passing as his lungs begin to burn. It is as if his feet are tied to the bottom and he can not get free. Then he spies Uncle Basile’s feet slip into the edge of the pool.
Suddenly it is like the line that binds him has been released. Steve is again moving up through the water to resurface at the top of the pool. Steve gasps for breath the moment he reaches the surface. Treading water he can see that the lighting in the chamber has changed. Only the glow of the pool remains as all else has gone dark. Uncle Basile slips into the pool holding himself on the edge with his elbows behind him.
“Are you trying to kill me?” Steve shouts at the grinning old man.”
“Not at all, just the opposite,” Basile replies as he watches Steve move to the opposite side of the pool to support himself in the water. “You are meant to be the next Master of Estate, my death will come long before yours.” Steve is still trying to catch his breath when Uncle Basile says, “There are only two ways for you to become the next Master of the Estate; For me to die naturally or for you to take my life and the power.”
“I would never commit murder to steal power,” Steve shouts glaring at the old man across the pool from him. Almost instantly Uncle Basile is across the pool to Steve. Basile comes to an abrupt stop with his knee in the young man’s chest and his hands on his shoulders. Steve is pinned to the wall of the pool by Basile.
“Don’t be a fool, I am the embodiment of the Estate, I am all powerful here!” Uncle Basile growls. “You will kill me, take my power as the heir to Cassandra Estate or I will kill you.” Basile’s hands move to Steve’s throat, beginning to squeeze. “I will drown you right here in this pool and the Estate will consume your soul like sweet candy!”
Steve knows Uncle Basile is right, his strength is superhuman even greater than Steve as he begins to choke him. Steve glances to the floor of the chamber not far from the pool. Something draws his attention as it catches the light to shimmer in the darkness. “I can not,” Steve whispers. “I am not the heir to the Estate.” “The only Master I will ever be is Master Warrior.” Basile’s eyes twitch and for a moment they turn from green to blue as his grip loosens as the old man falls back into the water.
When Steve moves to help Basile there is a stirring of cold water in the pool. Suddenly Steve is lifted from the pool by a water spout that ejects him against the wall. The force of his collision would be deadly for anyone else, but for Master Warrior there is only darkness.