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This article, Old Evil, New Tricks, is the co-property of both Echo Uchiha and Mr. Monk. |
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written and edited by Echo Uchiha
Although I intend to provide you with a clear and objective account of the information you seek, it is crucial that you know about these people on a somewhat personal level. Either way, death is imminent.
Everything begins and ends with who I am about to speak of, the first man on this list (though to denote him as a man would be a bit inaccurate). He has been called many different names by many different people. In some cultures, he is referred to as Slade, while in others he is known as Scourge. More ancient cultures whisper the name of the Rat King or Necros.
Regarding what exactly he is, you will get dozens of answers. A god, warlord, genius, psychopath, savior, murderer, monster and/or myth. I have always called him Echo and allowed his actions to define his character, since the archives of history cannot do the same. There is no concrete doctrine that can ascribe his true origin, though I myself have heard many passed down through the ages. The first of the major theories attribute him as a son of a warlord who was raised in blood and agony, only to rise and begin his own conquest atop the corpse of his father. The second claims him to be born to an aristocratic family who perished amidst a ravaging plague, orphaning him to the harsh streets of a doomed city. From there he rose as a spell-wielding tyrant, bending the will of the remaining citizens and slaughtering all in his path. The third story suggests that he once belonged to a small town secretly founded upon an ancient cannibalistic society, while he himself had strong ancestral ties to the fallen civilization. Using these, he allegedly adopted the black arts that the vengeful spirits haunting the town offered, quickly achieving mastery over life and death and becoming a demigod. In addition to these, I have heard other lesser tales being rambled between the folk I have came across, ranging from his power stemming from an ancient book to the corruption of his soul being a direct result of the evil in the universe.
If you ask me, I would tell you that a little bit of each is probably true. He must have awakened recently or is younger than most believe, for if he were truly walking the lands all of this time, the world as we know it would not exist. Truth be told, he is the closest thing I have seen to being the pure embodiment of fear, and I fear no man. If what they say is true, to know your enemy is to know yourself. In this case, if there is hope for any of you, pray to be the exception.
There was a time when I thought myself the deadliest soul alive...but this man is a devil dressed as one of us.
"...There! Do you see it?"
"Ah, yes, of course. What about it?"
"It's a bit creepy, just sitting there and blinking over and over. And through all of that fog!"
"Lighten up, will you? Giving me the creeps over something that I didn't even notice before. I'm gonna go check the east gate."
Two men in ornately decorated kimonos stood aboard a pier built from the finest cedar a man could import. The first and more burly of the duo looked anxiously about into the vast body of water in front of him, alternating between unintentionally comical squints and the complete opening of his amber eyes. His slim colleague bore an expression that conveyed apathy, and he quickly shook his shaved head at his companion before turning to leave.
The burly man folded his massive and hairy arms, furrowing his leathery brow as he continued to stare out into the bay. His gaze was fixated onto a dim red light that flashed every other second in the distance. He had estimated that it was likely miles away, which made the situation all the more eerie since there was an unusually thick layer of fog present. He turned his head briefly in order to gaze at the gargantuan estate behind him.
The Renee Ford manor was an impossibly large building that took on a Prairie School architectural form, boasting a multitude of windows with impressive size and a steeply hipped roof in every direction. The foundation was surrounded by a thick wall of marble that exposed several 10/10 inch holes, each manned by suspicious looking automated turrets and mystical markings. Regarding the pseudo-castle itself, every orange-red brick was laid with a precision and care that further illustrated just how much the owner paid for the establishment. The exterior of the getaway home was simply beautiful, yet despite all its windows it showed the average onlooker nothing of the wonders inside. Although this man was not a member of the interior security force, he had managed to sneak a peak at what laid within the doors of the monstrosity. If he remembered correctly, it had all of the amenities one would want in a dream home, including private conference rooms where he assuredly was not allowed. But that was on the other side of the windows and not in his jurisdiction. The moon typically reflected off the surface of those very windows beautifully, though tonight, nothing but the dim light shone through the hazed darkness.
Snapping out of his trance and remembering his previous woes, he turned back around just in time to see something that struck terror into his heart. The red light was now eclipsed by something...a figure. He couldn't make out much, since the outline of the far-off being was outlined by the red flares. The muscular man felt sweat form around his thinning hairline, and he noticed grimly that his heart beat was in tune with the flashing of the light in the distance.
Surely a man cannot be walking on water, thought the perplexed fellow in a state of disbelief. As he licked his now damp upper lip, his thoughts distracted him from the bead of excrement that now dripped into his eye. He blinked rapidly, noticing that the figure was now completely gone. Stranger yet, there was no sign of any red light. Not a moment sooner did he begin hearing voices all around him, chiming like a bell. Was it the sound of children...his children? He could have sworn he heard the sound of his young son and daughter chanting a rhythmic tune. Closing his eyes in order to focus, the brute suddenly found that the words were becoming clear.
"Yo ho, he approaches slow,
Ho hey, of flesh decay,
Hey hee, soon you will see,
Hee ha, his apocrypha..."
Each phrase was timed out, and though it was clearly the voices of his children back home, a sinister undertone was present. He opened his eyes immediately, dropping to his knees on the cold wooden dock and holding his face. This could not be real. It couldn't be. Through his trembling hands and the cracks below the platform, he spotted something far more intricate than the average eye would catch. A ripple in the water. He slowly raised his head, finding his entire body to be unbelievably tense. That was when his heart stopped. Two human heads were slowly surfacing from the watery depths before him, only a few dozen feet from his location. Both his young son and daughter, garbed in a rotten and tattered rendition of their typical nightwear, were rising in front of his eyes. Slouched over, their faces were not particularly clear, giving him cause to shout their names nervously. As if on command, the two children lifted their heads, both at a disturbingly crooked angle. Their eyes were completely hollowed out, and a deep gash in their necks provided serious evidence of a lack of natural life present. But this wasn't possible, his family was hundreds of miles from his location, safe and sound in his home. But here they were, and approaching him at an uncomfortably steady pace.
The corpse of his daughter cracked a brief smirk on her stained face before uttering three cryptic words: "You will die."
The slimmer and more experienced guard relaxed his back against an intimidating gargoyle in the middle of a luscious garden, lighting a cigarette and deeply exhaling the nicotine bliss in the midst of the surrounding landscape. For guarding a man with as many powerful enemies as his boss, his job sure was monotonous. He knew these grounds like the back of his tattooed hand, having patrolled them ever since the big man had them built. Aside from the occasional squirrel being vaporized by one of the automated weapons lying around, not much action made its way to the door. Maybe that was because the entire forest was secured as well, but he honestly didn't care. The pay and benefits were good, and unlike his dimwitted colleague, he got to spend it on himself instead of some spoiled little brats.
Much to his chagrin, he actually enjoyed the company of the jolly buffoon, even though he was typically caught in his superstitions. Being the schemer that he was, the nearly bald man often sent "bad luck" in the way of his co-worker, whether it be the occasional black cat sighting or pentagram painting on the wall of his bedroom in the servant quarters. For this reason he was mildly disappointed that the Sasquatch of a man was soon to quit and search for a safer and more stable job for his family (or something nonsensical and along the lines of the greater good, as he recalled.) Oh well, more opportunity for promotion and cold, hard cash would be his for the taking.
Ring...ring...
Speak of the devil. He reached into a pouch under his traditional Japanese clothing, withdrawing his trusty communicator. Nonchalantly, he clicked the button, poised to hear some far fetched tail that likely generated from a nursery rhyme. Before he could vocalize these thoughts, a pitiful whimper came through on the other end.
"Pl-please...please..."
"What is it, you stumbling oaf?"
"Please...help me!" the larger man now sounded desperate.
"Another broken mirror? Perhaps you need some salt to toss over your shoulder?" mused the slender guard.
His voice now cried out in what seemed to be extraordinary agony before he finally regained his composure. "Ah...ugh, arghhh! uhh....I can see it again..."
Something was indeed wrong. The slimmer man felt a deafeningly cold chill run down his spine. He swallowed, but his throat was already completely dry. "What do you see." he somehow already knew the answer, which made his inquiry more of a rhetorical statement.
As he awaited for the actual words to be spoken, he noticed that not only could he see his own breath, his hands had begun to shrivel as if he were withering into dust. In an instant he saw his life flash before his eyes, an entourage of cheap women, cheaper wine, the good life, and a trail of pain and poverty that everything else was covering up. For once he realized --or rather admitted-- that his existence was a single drop of water in the middle of an ocean, and he truly meant nothing in the scheme of things. He considered notifying the boss in order to warn him of his impending doom at the hands of this malevolent force, but no longer saw the point. All of the plans and schemes he had concocted concerning his future wouldn't mean a thing in hell.
He could feel an unknown presence grab hold of his entire being, contorting his body until his wiry arms, legs, hands, and toes snapped like twigs. Despite his acknowledgement of his fate, the broken man could not help but scream in agony as multiple bones now protruded from his flesh, drenching his kimono in blood and marrow. He turned his head slightly behind him, almost wondering if his guardian gargoyle was responsible for his execution and chuckling at the thought until he noticed that blood trickled from each of its openings. Then the whispers started. He heard the voices of his parents, or at least what he had always figured they would sound like.
"Go to sleep, son. You have earned your rest."
They were right. All he wanted to do was sleep.
"Sleep...sleep...sl..." slowly his sense of hearing faded and what seemed to be a gentle pair of hands caressed his smooth head. Suddenly, they tightened their grip and twisted with an ear-splitting crunch. The communicator dropped to the ground, leaving the final words spoken through the other end to play one final time.
"I see the red light." Click.
"And that is why this shipment cannot be delayed any further." an unhealthily stocky and fairly short man sat in a pivoting chair, crossing his legs and stroking his neatly trimmed goatee. "I trust each of the members of the board can agree with this conclusion?"
The well groomed man reclined comfortably at the head of a large crescent moon-shaped table whilst surrounded by several ellaborately dressed men of different generations who each simultaneously nodded at his proposal. Of course they did, that's why he had always been the boss. Toumosu Kouran wasn't one of the most notorious criminal names in the region for nothing, and anyone willing to dispute that point typically ended up in the bottom of a ditch (if they were allowed a carcass at all). Within this particular conference room, he had extravagant decorations hanging from each of the walls, ranging from paintings created by the world's most renowned artists to the rarest of mounted wildlife game. A large crystalline chandelier hung above all who sat at the table, helping to illuminate the entire room with its effervescent shimmering. The gigantic silvery green rug draped across the marble floor complimented the peach walls well, something the crime lord often liked to remind himself. A vibration in his pocket at this hour meant one of two things: his "paid entertainment" was showing up late and he was about to force a discount, or his security staff had set off another one of his automatons and subsequently caused another forest fire.
"Excuse me gentlemen, I have to take this." said the most feared man in the room as he pulled out his mobile device, noticing that several members of his security staff have went unexpectedly out of commission, that is, completely gone off the map. As any serious crime boss would do, he had implemented chips into their nervous system that would not only track them and provide constant polygraph assessment, but monitor their vital signs indefinitely. He slapped his phone just to make sure, since as of five minutes ago he had at least sixty members of his security force that were alive. Just as he prepared to dial up the main henchman hotline and angrily demand answers, there was a knock on the door to the chamber.
That must be Karu, the youngest member of the board who is infamous for making untimely trips to the restroom during important meetings. "Get your shit-spitting ass in here!" exclaimed Mr. Kouran rather loudly. A few seconds passed and nothing happened.
Knock, knock, knock.
The angered mob boss rubbed his temples impatiently. "Get the door, Martin, before I kill the boy myself."
Another one of the younger board members present rose from his seat quickly and twisted the door handle without hesitation, turning around as he did such in order to reclaim his seat. Before he could take a step, he doubled back as if to register something he had seen.
"Karu?" Splat. That was all the boy could utter before his jaw bone dis-aligned and his head and limbs rolled off.
Kouran had seen enough and glanced underneath the table in order to reach a concealed button that would enable his interior defenses to do their dirty work. Success.
Upon looking up, his face went blank and his expression changed until he was as white as a ghost. The seats formerly occupied by the board of directors were now vacant, and gory smears of what presumably used to be those people further decorated the bright room. Directly across from him was a shadowy man in a long black cloak. Although he could not clearly see his face, he could make out what he perceived to be the most frightening pair of eyes in existence. They persistently burned into his soul, and his hands dropped limply from underneath the table as he stared into death itself.
Then, something unexpected happened. He spoke. "Your connections are very important to me at this point in time, Kouran Toumosu."
Kouran snapped out of his temporary paralysis, ignoring the numbness he was experiencing and attempting to stand, but to no avail. His body wanted no part in resisting this heinous force of nature. Where was his automated security? But at that moment, he saw that the secret turret installations behind each painting and animal were completely dismantled. How? This was detestably inconceivable.
"Wh-what do you want? Money, jewelry, drugs?" the fat man put forth his toughest expression as if to convey that he still had some form of power in the situation.
"A complete list of your suppliers." stated the supernatural being in a chillingly determined tone.
The crime lord was truly confused. "Couldn't you have just stolen it or found out from a board member? Why come straight to me and do all of...this?" he choked out the last part, his countenance filled with hopelessness as he struggled for answers.
"That look." the brutal being was now grinning in a disturbingly pleased way. "There are few things more interesting than seeing a man who believes he has everything lose it all in a single instant. Imagine the look the rest of the world will have when I show it the very same thing. That is all you can do."
Like an apex predator, the powerful man locked his unholy gaze upon his helpless victim. Striding towards him, he casually ignored the various pleas of mercy from the pathetic shadow of the organized crime leader.
"Okay...okay...please, just tell me your name." As the world spun around him, the formerly invincible syndicate boss noticed that his assailant was not alone, surrounded by what seemed to be the risen corpses of his fallen staff. Not a moment later, they had all vanished, leaving him unable to cling to any form of reality as he succumbed to madness.
"WHAT ARE YOU?!?" beamed the shell of a man psychotically.
Pleased with the carnage around him and what was to come, the mysterious man humored his dying victim.
"Echo."
Splat.
THE END