francis: The Opening Meeting 1

Francis moved his arms and spread the doors of the Empire State wide open. He quickly shuffled inside along with the other men and women attempting to get in behind him. Their snarky stench filled his nostrils with annoyance, forcing him to move away from them as fast as he could. His feet clashed against the floor while he approached the main desk, with three people sitting behind it. He went up to one of them and smiled. Martha isn’t here today, I guess. The man that sat in her place was a terribly fat accountant with a thick stubble covering his upper lip. He shifted in his seat as Francis looked upon him, his chubby body pushing the seat down deeper and deeper into the floor. He coughed and looked up at the man that was oppressing him with his eyes.

“Can I, uh, help you?” His chins sagged down into the rest of his overburdened body with the speed of Roger Bannister’s mile. Francis tilted his head and smiled.

“Yeah, you can.” He leaned downwards over the desk and put his face right before the fat man’s. The other two people behind the desk looked over at him with confused eyes, to no care of Francis’. “I wanna go to the land below.” He whispered. The man’s eyes widened along with a gulp of saliva that created a large circle, hidden beneath the folds of his neck. He looked over at the lady that sat next to him, before nodding and pointing to the ground beneath them. Immediately, she pushed herself off of the chairs and left from her position behind the desk to the spot next to Francis. She had a kind smile on her pretty blonde face, yet she didn’t look like the typical stupid blondes he had seen so many times. Her eyes were a shade of blue, and it attracted him to her. Interesting.

“Right this way, sir!” She raised her hand and pointed towards a door past the elevators, before walking straight ahead of Francis. He turned around and followed behind her, trying not to look at her hips swaying in front of him. They’re all watching me. I should try to be on my best behavior right now. Their shoes clapped the floor all the way over to the small door that lay in front of them, before the lady opened the door and sent him in. A dusty storage room was spread out all around them, with boxes jumping all around the area. Some of the old cardboard boxes were opened, their contents spilling out from their homes. A few men wandered around the area, their arms bursting out of their shirts as they leaned forward in their walk.

The women led him ahead and they walked in between large towers of boxes, some of them not even being visible until they walked right in front of them due to the terrible lighting. After zig zagging through the room, they made it to the back. There, another small door with a metal knob awaited them. The blonde kicked it in and they continued on their way, now heading through a wet, musty room filled with nothing at all, other than a few more boxes. They slid behind two men that were lifting up a gigantic box, before heading into the next room. Unlike the previous two, this one had lights to show the two of them the way. It smelled absolutely disgusting, like the smell of a hospital. There was nothing to smell, sure, yet there was some thick scent entering Francis’ nose. He gagged and moved forward, until he saw that his guide had stopped right in front of a door. Upon closer inspection, he realized that the door was an elevator. Her slim white hand slid its way to the button that opened the door, leading to a ding and a loud buzz. The doors slowly opened up, revealing an absolutely normal elevator room. The woman turned back and looked at Francis with her tender smile still slapped across her cute face.

“Here it is, sir. I’m sure you know the rest of the way.” He did. “I’ll be on my way back now. Have a good day.” Now he didn’t.

“No.” He grunted. The blonde looked up at him and nervously started playing with her hands. Her fingers intertwined with each other, twirling around like an olympic ice skater. “I don’t know the way.”

“I…guess it can’t be helped then.” She said meekly. The door began to close behind her, but she turned back around and pressed the button to open them once more. “This way, sir.” Her voice was passive, but her New York accent was hard and rang out with every word she said. Francis nodded with a smile. They walked into the elevator and stood in front of the buttons as the doors closed. She moved her finger toward the button for level one, before pressing it twice. The doors closed, but nothing happened. She then moved her arm up and pressed the level fifteen button thrice. Nothing happened once more. Finally, she moved her hand back and slowly pressed it against the first level button, twice this time. All of a sudden, the elevator has another ‘ding!’ sound, and it begins to move down. Francis grinned and moved behind the blonde. Her hair was tied back neatly, but it was lucious and curly. He stared at her back for a little bit, his thoughts filled with her naked body, before he went towards her and placed a hand on her shoulder, twisting her around.

She yelped as he stared directly into her eyes with a sly smile, before he lept in and pressed his lips against hers. The blonde tried to push him off of her, yet he kept on moving closer and closer, his hands playing with her clothes to an vile extent. As he started to move his hands underneath her skirt, the elevator beeped and the doors slid open. Francis grunted and moved away from the girl as she panted heavily, tears beginning to form at the edges of her eye sockets. Francis gave her a warm, yet deadly smile. “I’ll be coming back for you after this meeting.” He informed her, as if she couldn’t do anything about it. She shook her head, but Francis pretended to not see it. He walked past the elevator doors and moved forwards, sexual thoughts filling up his brain. I’m gonna finish this meeting as fast as I can… His head turned towards the elevator, with its doors already closing. After all, I don’t wanna keep her waiting.

Francis approached a large wooden door and moved his arm towards it, making it open up. He then walked throughout a thoroughly lit room and moved forwards, before inevitably approaching yet another large door. He pushed it open, leading to a small room with a large table in the middle. The table had ten seats, with nine of them having been filled up by nine other men. Francis squinted and analyzed each of them. At the front of the table was Joseph Carland. He was a large, burly man that sat up straight with his hands clasped in front of him. He was balding, which was to be expected of a fifty year old man with his amount of stress. He was cleanly shaven, however, and his suit still wrapped around him like gloves around a hand. A disinterested look was spread out across his face, but it slowly turned into a smile when Francis walked in. Well, at least he hasn’t changed.

The rest of the table had men that had either changed moderately or completely new people in the places of the old. Karl Fischer sat in the seat next to Joseph, his skinny body having become even more tired and timid. In front of him was Yoshi Masako. The Japanese man wasn’t as young as he had been years ago, but his facial structure was still well defined and attractive and the wrinkles on his face only added to his looks. His large brown glasses, however, covered his small eyes and made him look much older than he was. To his left was Vasudeva Anand. He had a beard that roughed up his small, chubby brown face and darkened his lips. He sat in a business suit, coughing as he eyed Francis with annoyance. In front of him sat Ivan Hernandez, his legs and arms crossed together along with his closed eyes. He was a little ugly but nothing horrible. His looks mainly came from his age. Ivan slouched in his button down shirt, his legs shaking with what Francis could only assume was excitement. He then looked at the other men that sat around the table. There was a young man with short blonde hair, his eyes wide and filled with aquatic colors. He was fit and strong, Francis could tell. So Jackie was replaced. Another man sat next to him, this one being colored. It surprised Francis that Joseph would even allow for a black to enter into this conference room, but he thought about it for a little while longer and realized that letting the colored man in was the correct move. After all, the Sworn were always speaking about being equally just and fair. I bet they're not feeling all too excited for equality now, the fools. He taunted them in his head and looked at the other men. One was tall and had a large snout with an oily nose. He had a small prick of hair growing above his chin, but he was otherwise clean. The man…no, the boy next to him was weak and nervous. His arms were so small his bones were cleaving through them and his chest was extremely weak and small. He was breathing heavily as well. So hard, in fact, that Francis was a little worried for the teenager. He wondered though, what was a boy like this doing at the table of the Sworn?

Joseph Carland smiled and leaned back, his hands pushed a bit across the table. “Welcome, Francis. It’s so very good to see you.” His thick, elegant voice was filled with sarcasm and uninterest. Francis himself had gotten used to it over the time he’s known the man, but after having not seen him for so long only for this tone to be directed at him was annoying. “It’s been an incredibly long time, has it not? I don’t think we’ve seen each other since the last great war ended.” The confidence pissed Francis off.

“Cut the bullshit, Carland.” He watched as some of the new board members had their eyes widened as he spoke. Little maggots. “Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it. Don’t mess around with all of your little greetings.” The man with the oily nose jumped out his seat and slapped his hand against the wooden table. Francis could see the anger boiling out of his tiny little body.

“Don’t you dare talk like that to the leader of the Sworn!” His voice was absolutely stomach churning. It was high and loud, just being horrible enough to make Francis nauseous. “No matter who you are, you’re just a lowly ant to-”

“Quiet.” The room went silent for a moment and everyone, including Francis, turned their attention to the man who sat at the front. He commanded the room with the same ruthlessness he had ten years prior. The oily man stared at Joseph with shock.

“But- but Mr. Carland-!”

“I said quiet.” Joseph’s cold eyes dug into the heart of Mr. Oiled noses’ body. He shook with fear before gulping and beginning to move his chair back into its position from beforehand. “I will not have any yelling here, Mr. Ricci. You are a man and you will act like it. And if you don’t, well…” He looked straight at Francis, the corners of his mouth dropping down over his chin. “...perhaps Mr. Rogers over here will be forced to dispatch you.” The man named Ricci nodded and drearily sat back in front of the table, his face attempted to digest the humiliation he just went through. Silence continued for a few moments as Francis realized something. He had entered the lion's den. He had left here after the previous Sacred War thinking that he was done with Carland for good, yet here he was, coming back to serve his employer once more. He grit his teeth but said nothing. Even he knew after this engagement that he shouldn’t be angering the leader right now. It didn’t seem like he was in the mood for it.

Yet, a part of Francis still wanted to get this done with as soon as possible. “Tell me, Carland. Why am I here? Will there be another war?” He asked in a tone that was remarkably more polite than the one he had given before. Joseph gave another one of his unsettling smiles and moved forward, shifting his body weight onto the desk. His back curved as he nodded.

“Yes, great of you to ask.” His voice dripped with sarcasm and it continued to make Francis angry. “Before I tell you what it is you’re to do, I’ll introduce you to the new members of the board. You obviously don’t know some of them.” Bullshit. You’re just providing fluff before you give me some horrible news. Francis already had a good enough idea of what his role was when it came to the Secret War. When the last war came, he was an informant that went around the world to tell the contestants that they were to participate. He had done a good enough job last time, so it was obvious that he was to be asked again. But why wouldn’t this asshole just tell me that? There had to be something else he was to be told.

Joseph continued onwards and looked at the young, fit man. “This is Mr. Williams, our representative for the Americas.” Williams nodded at Francis quickly. Carland then moved his gaze and finger over to the black man. “This is Mr. Contee, a representative for Africa and everything within it and near it.” The colored man looked uncomfortable in that moment, rightly so, considering he and his kind weren’t loved within such a place as New York city. He quickly plopped down in his chair, gulping as Carland went past him. “This is our representative sent by the USSR,” He pointed towards the teenager that seemed to sweat as soon as the letters U.S.S.R were said out loud. “Mr. Zagorodny.” The boy nodded quickly and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, which Francis saw every second of. Yet, before the Sworn leader could move on, Francis opened his mouth.

“Why would the Soviets send a boy to be their world representative?” He asked with suspicion. Carland sighed.

“Yes, well, he is allegedly related to some important politician within the Union, which led to him being nominated so he could be raised to be a secret dignitary. Don’t think too much of it.” Yet, the look in his eyes said otherwise. There was a gleam of anger and lies somewhere within him and only Francis saw it.

Yet, he decided to keep quiet and let things move on. “Alright.” He muttered. The boy shivered and dug himself deeper into his seat, all as the final new member was announced to him.

“This is Mr. Ricci, the Italian representative. You two have met already, so no more introductions are necessary, correct?” The oily man turned red and quickly nodded, all as the other board members watched with amusement. Francis leaned against the door and sighed.

“Great, glad to meet all of you important fucks.” The representatives immediately went from having inner laughter towards the sight of Ricci’s embarrassment towards a look of anger at Francis, all except one.

“It’s been a while, Francis. I’m glad to meet you again as well.” Karl Fischer said, his loud voice booming throughout the entire room. Everyone turned to look at him, although Francis did notice Hernandez’s look of contempt towards him as he spoke. Interesting. Maybe there’s some animosity between these conceited sons of bitches? “I’m sure you’ve been wondering why you were called here?”

“I’m not stupid. I know that the only reason any of you would call on me would be because another Sacred War is starting, isn’t there?” Francis laughed. “How did little old Ed Brown bite the bullet? I hope he was killed by one of those whores he was lugging around with him!” He exclaimed, to no one's laughter. He did catch a small snicker from Anand, though, before he immediately placed his hand over his mouth. At least someone appreciated the joke. He thought, sourly. Fischer shook his head and let out a groan.

“You know, I would like for you to at the very least show some respect for our king. He did kill Hitler and helped pull the U.S. into the fray, god bless him. Without that effort, there may have been some very large losses.”

“Larger than the millions of Jews that he let die?”

“Much larger.” He said, as if he was in the right. “Sure, he may have done some wrongs and he may have had some bad habits, but god bless him he won the war without it getting even worse.” Francis grit his teeth.

“From your country, if I’m remembering things properly.” Fischer looked at him sourly and was about to bomb him with a rebuttal when Joseph spoke once more.

“It doesn’t matter what legacy our King left behind, what matters is that he’s gone and that we need a new one.” He spoke. He eyed Francis with an unsatisfied look. “Ever since you’ve come in this room you’ve only started fights. I would like for you to cooperate now, Mr. Rogers, otherwise I will remove you from here.” His hands were clasped together over his mouth and a foreboding feeling rose over Francis as he nodded. This damn piece of shit!

“Yeah, sir. You can tell me what I have to do. But first, I wanna know how Brown died.” Brown’s death really did interest Francis. While he was never really a fan of Brown’s in any way, he had to admit that he was a strong man and an amazing wizard. He was so powerful that he didn’t even create a technique like all other wizards have, he instead mastered the basic foundations of the art and used that to defeat anyone who came his way. There was a reason that he had become king. Hell, he had even fought and defeated me once… Who the hell could be strong enough to kill the man that stood above everyone else in virtually everything? He must’ve died from an illness, or a stray bullet. No one has any chance at taking him down.

“Of course.” Carland nodded. “He was dispatched on a mission to Northern Vietnam to help the French take back the country. We were attempting to keep communism from reaching it, you see.” He took a deep breath and sat there for a moment, thinking. He moved his right hand and brushed his fingers underneath his sharp, long chin. “Yet, the fort that King Brown had been sent to was on the brink of collapsing when he went to escape. Of course, it hasn’t collapsed yet, but it will soon.” Francis nodded and scratched his thick, black hair. Always the coward, I see. “It was then that he was attacked by a mysterious assailant…and he was defeated and killed.” That stopped Francis from moving for a minute. He thought about what he had just heard, before gulping and staring directly into Joseph’s endless eyes.

“Did you just say that the fool was murdered?”

“I did.”

“Do you have any leads on who it could’ve been?” He asked. It wasn’t possible for anyone to have killed him. It wasn’t. Whichever man had been strong enough to have defeated the greatest wizard of the twentieth century will have to be well known to some degree. No one could get around like that unnoticed.

“We do, actually.” Francis looked over at William and crossed his arms around his chest. “We have three leads, and all of them will be participating in this succession war.” His voice was a calm yet deep one, loud enough to be heard but relaxed enough to put others at ease. It was much better than Fischer’s voice, at the very least.

“And that brings us to your role in all of this!” Contee exclaimed, his voice thick with his accent. Francis could barely understand what the man was saying, much less expect to engage in a conversation with him if he was to start one. He decided to respond quickly, so that the African wouldn’t take it as an invitation to continue speaking.

“Yeah, I got what my damn role is. I’ll tell all of the competitors what they’re doing and where to go. Just give me the information and I’ll help you shits out.” He was done with all of this. The only thing he wanted now was to leave here, fuck the blonde broad that was waiting at the desk upstairs and get to work in exchange for some money.

“Yes, that is one part of your role. But we have another for you.” And yet, his job was never done.

“What? What else do you shits want me to do?” He asked the Italian representative. The man had begun to smile, and Francis didn’t like the look of that. He raised his arm and pointed at him as his face went red once more, this time with an understanding of some irony that Francis couldn’t get yet. “What is it!?”

“You are one of the participants chosen for this war.” Joseph said. Shock flew through Francis’ body, his eyes widening as he looked upon the smiling people around the table. Ricci had a satisfied grin on his face, with his eyes giving a look that told Francis a sentence he knew very well. “You lost.” It said. Francis’ fingers curled up into balls of rage as he raised his arm and started shouting at Carland.

“You old fat head!” His face was painted red as he waved his arms around. “You can’t make me do this! I’m not going to be put into this suicidal war game!” Yoshi Masako looked at him with grueling eyes.

“Francis,” His low voice whispered the words, leaving the entire room to go into silence in order to hear him. His face sagged as he sighed. “You know as well as we all do that if you were chosen for the Sacred War, there is no getting out of it.” A few of his words were hard to understand due to his accent and limited knowledge of the English language, but Francis still got the message. “You have no choice.” Francis was quiet for a few seconds as everyone turned their attention towards him.

“Yes, Francis. You can’t escape the rules now. You’re one of the twenty strongest wizards found across the world and that means that you are to compete for the crown.” Anand wheezed out. Everyone else nodded as Francis shook with fury. But as he stood there, he thought about what they were saying and his brain searched for a way out. He stared at Joseph for a moment, before a grin slid into his face.

“I’m an informant though.” He said. “My job is to tell everyone of the War, not to fight in it. Won’t I have an obvious advantage if I see and meet all the contestants before the fighting begins?” He had them trapped, he knew. They won’t get out of this one. No other informant has my ability to travel across the world as quickly as I can, so they’ll need to wait longer for the War to start due to the informant taking longer to travel. And they can’t be unfair, so they’ll have to remove me from the listings. I’m saved! He cheered himself on inside as the board all looked at each other for a moment, before Carland nodded.

“You’re right.” Of course I am! “You will have an unfair advantage over all of the other competitors and you can’t be replaced as an informant seeing that your ability allows you to get around fast…and it cannot be copied until after your death…” He stood there and stared at Francis for a moment, as if to make a threat, but Francis wasn’t afraid at all. The bastard couldn’t touch him. He has a need for him, and even if he’s removed as an informant he’ll still be a Sacred War participant. I’ve got him. He thought. But then, a chilling grin creeped onto Joseph’s face as he nodded. “You would have me trapped, Francis. But you didn’t think about one thing. Do you know who we’re favoring in this war?”

“Favoring?” He didn’t like this.

“Yes, favoring.” He raised his arm and pointed at Francis. “You are one of the two candidates we would prefer to win this War and become King of the World.” Fischer and Contee laughed as sweat flew down Francis’ face.

“What’s wrong with our favored contestant getting an edge or two? We would prefer it!” Fischer exclaimed. The rest of the room chuckled as Francis gulped and shook his head. They have me beat. They want ME of all people to become the King?

“Why me?” He quickly asked. “I disrespect all of you! I’ve killed numerous innocent people! I’m no hero! So why the hell are you bastards choosing me?!” He screamed. He thrust his hands down on the desk, creating a loud slam that made everyone shake for a moment. The room stayed quiet for a moment as everyone considered their thought process, until Carland shook his head.

“You’re powerful. You can travel quickly. You have connections and charisma. You have everything that can be used to keep this domain of ours safe.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest. Francis stayed quiet as Joseph sighed. “No more questions, I presume?”

“No, I have one more.” Francis stood back up and stared directly at the leader of the Sworn. “Who’s the other guy you want for King?” I can maybe help him win the war and then let him pardon me at the end or something so I can escape this bloodbath… “I want to know.”

“Well, you won’t.” Masako muttered. “That information is secret and kept only to us. There’s no reason to tell you that.” Everyone nodded, along with Carland, who seemed to approve of what the Japanese man was saying. Francis grit his teeth and shook his head.

“You damnable pieces of shit…” He whispered to himself, as a piece of paper was being passed along the table. It eventually reached Francis, who slowly took it from Zagorodny’s sweat infested hands and read it. He quickly realized what it was; a list of names. The people who are going to be fighting in the Kingstone War! The list had the names: Umberto Antje, Monika Appel, Jayden Arantxa, Hiro Ayato, Fedde Beitel, George Castilan, Brandon Davidson, Yesenia Garcia, Henry Gross, Liam Harris, Hraban Kranz, Carla Kraus, Faraji Meremikwu, Arjun Pal, Qiang Peng, Angel Perez, Francis Rogers, Rohan Shan, Osamu Takashi and Shigeru Takashi. Most of the names carried some weight, his own being the heaviest. Besides each name was a small patch of blood that had been melted onto the thick white paper. He stared at the blood and then looked up towards the Sworn.

“Is this…?”

“Yes, it’s their magic signature. Yours included.” Fischer grinned.

“When did you old shits get my blood?!” Francis didn’t like the idea of this council having the ability to take his blood or whatever else they wanted. He knew that they had numerous spies in their service already, but having access to pry into his personal life was something he was a little frightened of. After all, if they could get his signature, what else could they do?

“We have our ways.” Joseph boomed. Francis hated that answer. They had been so keen to share information with him just a few minutes ago, why was the man so secretive all of a sudden? “Now, we would like for you to move on your way.”

“You damn-!”

“You’ll have until March 19th to finish informing the participants of their drafting, though I doubt you’ll need that much time.” Three days. “The War will be taking place right here, in New York. Anyone that doesn’t have the resources to get here will have it arranged for them, as long as they tell you during the drafting and you inform us of this information once you return.” Joseph’s eyebrows closed in on each other, creating a glare that was meant to intimidate Francis, but it did nothing to phase him. Instead, he would just nod and stand there in silence, waiting for him to continue onwards. Yet, Carland said nothing and continued to watch Francis with wary eyes. The table stared at the two before Masako coughed.

“The Sacred War will officially begin on March the 26th.” He rasped. “That will suffice for preparation time and to allow for arrival.” Francis continued to stare at Joseph for a moment, before he grunted and shook his head. What the fuck is wrong with that stuck up piece of shit? He looked towards Masako and nodded.

“I’m sure it will.” Francis said. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I'm going to get right to work.” He said, respectfully. The men at the table nodded at him, all except Ricci. He sat there, angrily glaring holes into Francis. If this fat ass’ looks could kill… He turned around and opened the door, before slamming it shut and heading towards the elevator. He stomped against the ground as his finger slammed against the button to open the doors. The elevator started to move towards him as he sulked, thoughts swirling all over his mind as he looked down at the paper in his hands once more. He had heard of some of these names before. Shigeru Takashi was one of the main names that he recognized. A big name in the magic world, to be sure. He had just barely missed the cutoff for the drafting during the last Sacred War, but now he’s much more powerful, and of course, a lot older and more experienced. It made Francis angry to think that he’d have to fight someone of that level of skill, especially considering how dangerous his ability was. I’ll have to counter for his damned Snake Skin. Right next to Shigeru was Osamu Takashi. He had heard of Shigeru’s up and coming son, so he had to assume that this was him.

Arjun Pal was another big name. He was one of the Indian mages who had made their way to the German school of Fantasy, securing him a name as a big wig. He had met Pal once, but he didn’t find him to be all too interesting of a character. His personality was bland and he seemed as if he was always on edge. Such a jittery figure wasn’t interesting at all for Francis. And yet, he knew that he was strong. After all, the man was a master at strategy and could allegedly defeat anyone in a one on one battle. Maybe it’s just a fake reputation, though. Either way, he wasn’t going to take any chances on him. The informants’ thoughts were interrupted when he heard the elevator have a loud ringing sound, before the doors slid open. He stepped through and pressed the button of the first floor, before leaning back against the back end of the small room, which was covered by a large mirror. He raised the paper again and continued to go through the names.

Each one was either someone he had no idea existed before this point, or it was a rising legend that would bring him to his limits. Yet, he didn’t really care for any of them, the Germans most of all. German sorcerers were powerful due to their training, but they weren’t as creative and quick on their toes as self learning mages, something which the school institution would remove from them. Francis knew that due to him having gone to the school. He had learned numerous things from the teachers there, but in the end he had left so that he could become stronger on his own. The basics were good enough, he then had to improve on it. And improve he did. Yet, he couldn’t even touch Edward Brown when they had fought at the Gathering of the Greats, so how could any other mage have gotten to him? They must be masters at using magic and amazing strategists, but even more so they have to have been able to counter his moves quickly, otherwise he would’ve gotten the better of them. He thought about who could’ve done it. An unregistered mage, perhaps? Maybe an assassin from the underworld? It was then that his eyes wandered towards the middle of the page and he read one name once more.

Hiro Ayato.