A massively gooey, fat gob of flesh and blood splattered across the alley wall as the sound of thunder crashing reverberated across the area.  

Wilhelm didn’t even blink.  

The remains of the homeless bum was plastered against the same wall. His head and neck were gone, the torso nothing more than a sizzling crater, while the leftover limbs were sprawled lopsided and disproportionately across the pavement from the force of the blast. Wilhelm was silent, never saying one word. He simply closed his eyes and breathed in, steadying his heartbeat, and his ears ringing, before breathing out.  

Not even remotely worth the torture. 

Worthless, he reminded himself. 

He turned towards the direction of the car, and taking a step forward, gave the corpse a last sideways glance. 

“And when exactly”, he quipped, “did I ever actually such make an agreement?” 

Walking away from the scene of his grisly murder, the ground beneath him crackled. Curious, he looked down to realized he’d stepped on a broken pane of glass. With the full moon out, the light reflected from the pane shone him his face.  

He had a somber, contemplative face with an ebony pompadour slicked back with a medium taper; short strands lightly hung from his temple, while his sides were dyed a dark indigo. His face clean, his Punic skin was slightly paled due to being inside for long hours, with an aquiline nose and thin full lips, and he had a soft but straight jawline that didn’t overtake his face. In the past, he was often ridiculed for not appearing to be fully Phoenician according to the standards of his tribe, because of his features resembling more of the Celts that his tribe traded with than his own people. Of course none of that mattered when they were all dead—killed by the Romans who hunted those Celts—while he was still alive, living a rather comfortable life. 

If father could see me now, he wondered.  

Father. 

A new memory flooded his vision, causing the scene of destruction and the Master to fade away into a lush forest hill overlooking the sea. The city of Gades, while small, was quietly nestled against the coast bustling with life, while ships from foreign lands filled its ports with vibrant trade. He looked to his right, the ocean, long and ominous, stretched for an incalculable amount of miles, holding an unfathomable mystery that only he could understand. 

Mathos. 

He blinked, a feeling in his chest stirred. It was a woman’s voice. 

Mathos. 

It was young and loving, but also filled authority and grace. 

Mathos. 

It was sweet, and belonged to the only person in the world who truly understood. 

Mother.  

Wilhelm turned to the direction of the voice to see his mother standing a few feet away from him holding a baby in her arms. It was his little sister. He watched them, the mother cupping the 2-year old in his arms, cooing at the baby, while the baby giggled and laughed playfully in her embrace. But something was off. 

Their faces, he realized, I can’t see them.  

He was right of course, their faces were faded out, smudged almost. As if he was being forced to forget them altogether. 

My son. 

Wilhelm shivered, a sudden sense of fear creeping on him. He turned around to look at the new voice, only to see the tall stature of his father right next to him, but unlike his mother, instead he looked up to see a massive shadow looming over him. Wilhelm opened his mouth to speak, but was shocked to find his mouth incapable of forming anything remotely close to words. He tried to move, but he couldn’t, he was simply too afraid. 

Too afraid. 

Mathos. My son. 

And then, a new word popped into his thoughts, a word that he’d dreaded hearing again after all this time. 

A word that haunted him even a millennia after all this time. 

Betrayer. 

He stared into the glass, his solemn face casting an accusatory shadow onto the reflection, as if to ask why he dared to look upon himself. Dread glistening in his eyes, as tears began to form. He blinked them away and turned from his reflection in dejection, and happened by chance to notice what looked like a flashing shadow darted across the air above him.  

Scowling and instinctively raising his gun, he followed the direction the shadow darted to and immediately began to stalk the area when a soft cough from his master stopped him. Grunting inwardly out of uncertainty, Wilhelm remembered where he was and with much hesitation holstered Qualia inside his suit jacket before returning to the Lincoln. 

“Find anything interesting?”, asked the Master, having watched the entire scene in amusement. 

“Forgive me for my impudence Master”, Wilhelm replied regretfully, “I feel as though we’re being watched, but given our time I’m not sure whether it’s paranoia or truth”. As he talks, Wilhelm opens the back seat door and sets the suitcase down on the seat and moved so that the Master could get inside. 

The Master chuckled, “Oh I dare say you are correct my boy.” 

At this, Wilhelm blinked, confused. 

“In what way?”, Wilhelm questioned, causing the Master to give him a knowing glance, smirking. 

His eyes widening, he quickly snapped his head back, cursing, “Sonuva—“ 

“Still yourself my child”, interrupted the Master, ducking his head back into the car, “it is no consequence that there be interlopers.” 

“Master!“, objected Wilhelm, “this is unacceptable on my part! Please allow me to—“. 

“Leave it be Wilhelm”, affirmed the Master, “it is late, and I am tired. We have business to attend to. And besides…” 

He paused turning to the same direction and eyeing the shadows of rubble. Following the gentleman’s gaze, they both looked towards 3-story building northeast of their position. A third of the building had folded in on itself exposing a few rooms and living spaces that were evidently occupied if not before the quake. Smoke was wafting from a few windows and water was gushing from broken pipes and fixtures onto the pavement below. A fire burned on the other, undamaged side of the building, while electricity sparked from the downed power lines that littered the high steps that led up to the main doors. A chunk of the city street had been kicked against it, and several cars in the nearby parking lot were buried under its bricks and mortar. In all, it looked like a cake haphazardly baked and partially collapsed because of it. 

The Master smirked. 

“I think our assembly alone was enough to keep our unmentionables entertained for the time being. No doubt trying to investigate our purpose so as to stop us, or at least delaying what they think is within our agenda.” 

Poor unfortunate souls, thought the Master, they’ve no idea what truly is in store for the world now. 

Time is of the essence, but this a wonderful little game that requires the utmost of patience and diligence to play. 

No matter the cost, I intend to win, and I will win. 

Seemingly content with this, the Master retreated into the soft leather that was the back seat and casually waited for Wilhelm to follow suit. Wilhelm eyed the area for a few more seconds, before entering the driver’s seat of the car, and with a resounding hmph, brought the car to life. He shot one more glance at the building, before shifting the gear and turning the car around, driving back the way they came and leaving the area.  

Now then, thought the Master as Wilhelm drove away, the time has come. 

Come to play with me, my feeble little toys.