Immortal's Club - Game Thread. Arc Five : Winter Soldier (Started, Open)

[Mr.Ivebeenframed]

Ali put a handkerchief to her neck as the Ethiopian sun beat down on them. It only took her a few hours of landing in Ethiopia did she realize why she never liked Ethiopia. The people were fine and the food was delicious but she couldn't stand the heat but she wasn't here to complain.

She got up from her seat to give her eulogy after the others had given theirs. Even if Ali didn't know Memnon for very long as compared to the others, she still had to pay her respects to the man that had helped her on multiple occasions. It took her several bottles of brandy and a bucket of tears to write the eulogy but she liked it. If Memnon was alive to hear it then she knew he would like it. She hadn't been to a funeral in quite sometime so she didn't know if it was actually any good but there was only one way to find out.

"When I was on the verge of being discovered in the Crimea, Memnom was there. When I needed a place to hide in Tobruk, Memnom offered me a palace. When I needed advice and reflection, Memnom was always the first to speak his mind. The greatest warrior was also the greatest friend and tutor when the situation called for it but most of you already know that by now." Ali let out a sad laugh but continued. "What you might not know is that Memnom and I saved a boy's life during the first World War. Long story short, the boy grew up into a man and fought in the Second World War after that, he wrote a book about two kind strangers that saved his life. I showed Memnom the book and first thing that he said after reading it was: 'I can't believe he forgot our damn names!'. Anyway, wherever you are Memnom, I hope you are happy and if you are hearing this then you finally know the greatest secret and that's one more thing I envy you for. Thank you." Ali sat back in her seat, sighing as if she dropped a load off her back. This Immortal has never felt so mortal.

 

[Frission]

(water broke down the walls around him as a civilization was washed away)

Shenshen was sprawled on one of the seats of the funeral. His head hurt and he had woken up on an unfamiliar couch. He had also gotten lost in Addis-Abada.
The whole situation felt unreal to him. He had tried to be in control of himself, while on the hunt for Jack, but one week later he still couldn't really believe that Memnon was dead. He had only seen the body after the end of his hunt.

(The hunt). Shenshen thought of the hunt. Many of the immortals at the club had given him a small pat on the back for doing his "job" and then turned their attention to their own schemes. Jack was supposed to be at the bottom of the Thames, but Shenshen knew better. Isaac had sworn up and down that Jack was still free, and while some called Isaac a drunkard, Shenshen knew that he was lucid that night.

Memnon's murderer was still free he thought while gritting his teeth. He noticed that he was holding a bottle in his right hand and took a swig from it.

He listened to Ali's speech with approval. The fire spirit had always had a way with words and was certainly able to convey emotion. Memnon would have been happy. ( He was a humble sort though)

He on the other hand felt numb to be honest and was bewildered by the crowd of immortals present.

The crowd was now staring at him, Shenshen thought. It took a few moments for him to realize that he should speak, since he was supposed to be someone who knew Memnon very well. He hadn't written a speech. He had been far too busy dealing with security for this funeral.

He wondered if he white was still proper mourning clothing.

Shenshen unsteadily got up. Everything seemed to spin around him. He was suddenly in front of the crowd, but he couldn't remember how he got there. It was hard for him to form words. Memnon had always been a constant in his existence as an immortal.

Sweat dropped into his eyes. The heat was suffocating and the sun bore down oppressively on them. What a day for a funeral he thought.

"Memnon once broke my spine in half (Memnon was in a tent; arrow in his head). He was the strongest fighter I evuh... ever had to fight and that's something (the world spun around him as he was thrown). However, he wasn't only a good fighter. He was a good leader and his men fought like demons.

( "Ulysses is a hack archer in comparison to me" Shenshen had said."He was smart enough to not let himself get cornered", Memnon had replied).

He cared for them really. He really really did. He was an immortal who wasn't limited only by fighting and was really-really a good person. He once helped me bandage up one of the enemy soldiers and that was a good thing. You understand right? (Memnon agreed that Jack must be stopped.)"

Shenshen paused. He realized he was still holding a bottle which was half full. It was empty now.

Shenshen suddenly felt very energetic.

"He didn't get disconnected from the world. He didn't retreat into his own world like some chaps. He wasn't a raging selfish, narcissist either and for a guy that strong and immortal to boot that's certainly something! He was always willing to help and to a fault too."

Things were really spinning now, although Shenshen didn't know whether it was the heat, the alcohol, an after effect from when he was shot in the head, or just the memories.

"And all I can say as a friend, is that I miss him. Otherwise, I'll say that he owed me a re-match!"

Shenshen realized that he should probably stop and staggered towards the tents in the back.

 

[Baddamobs]

It was only half-way through Ali's speech when Screecher had a sudden realization:

How the hell did we get here?

It wasn't a literal question, of course. She had insisted on travelling by boat, ferry and bus; Uta had offered her a spare ticket for a plane ride, but as much as she yearned to be among the clouds again, she thought anyone insane enough to get in a glorified tin can in the sky deserved all the air sickness they got (AND she had still arrived slightly early, as usual).

No, what she was questioning was the how in the name of everything that was holy had they gotten here , into this situation. It had taken several restless night for it to finally sink in: Memnon, an Immortal, was dead. Not dead in the usual sense of 'come back in a few hours time' dead, he was...actually gone.

...Memnon and Tut, the only two people in the world to break the laws of nature twice in row...

Screecher looked up as she felt a tap on the shoulder. An Immortal she didn't recognized was nodding to Uta, who in turn was gesturing his head to the front. Shensehn had finished his part (must have been quite the 'thing;' there was some mutterings going around), Screecher supposed it must be her time. The ex-owl had actually objected to speaking a eulogy, arguing that she had known the warrior little, and would have nothing to say that others who knew him better couldn't be more poignant on.

Uta had persisted: she had been there as he killed. It would be wrong not to say at least a farewell.

As she stood to her feet and collected herself, she locked eyes briefly with Uta. He looked...calm, all things considered. He had taken the news that the knife was now beyond their reach poorly, or at least she had been told such. In all honesty, the fact the knife wasn't currently in her possession was causing her no end of headaches.

Tut and Memnon's deaths were always going to cause a power vacuum, but I hadn't expected signs would start to show so soon...

Casting such 'politics' from her mind, Screecher finally took off the straw sun hat gently, resting it on her chest with one hand, the other clenched behind her back. She took a moment to get used to the sun beating down on her head, before she finally started speaking.

"...I didn't know Memnon well. After all, I thought I had all of time to get the chance, so why rush? I convinced myself that I would have the opportunity before too long." Screecher let out a despondent sigh, a wave of real melancholy rolling over her. "I don't think anyone of us had seen this coming, so I hope he'll forgive me for my presumption. I clearly lost the chance to get to know a strong, honorable man. I hope he knows that he will be dearly missed, and that-"

his killer will be brought to justice. Best not to mention that. She didn't know how much was known to the Club collectively, but the less who knew about the knife, the better.

"...that the Club will likely never see a stronger fighter. That... is everything I have to say." Screecher coughed: probably should have thought of more concluding point then that.

She awkwardly retook her seat, and unscrewed the top off her owl flask. She was going to need a few more drinks before this day was out.

I'm having to do this a lot lately...

 

[JoJo]

Cadeyrn sighed as it was his turn to speak, he hadn't really wanted to give a speech but Utna and Mahmod had talked him into it. He walked up to the podium, fidgeting in the black suit he'd be given. Again, not really his choice, but Ali and some of the other female immortals had got a hold of him before the ceremony and by the time he escaped, he'd been thoroughly washed, brushed and dressed neater than any time he could remember.

"A lot of people have already said a lot of nice things," he started after a pause, "So I'm going to tell a story instead," he looked around the audience for encourage, "How me and Memnon first met..."

.​

Rome, 67 AD

Cadeyrn sat in a wall, munching an apple and taking in the city around him with wide eyes. In the decades since his banishment from the Otherworld he'd never imagined a place like this could exist on Earth, great white gleaming buildings encircling him and people of all colours and creeds walking through the streets. He wore a white toga and sandals, enjoying the warm air that was so rare on his island home. A small dagger was tucked into his clothing, one had to be careful when travelling, even an immortal could be robbed after-all.

Presently, he was bored and decided to find something to do. He hopped down and explored the nearby alleys, soon coming across the great circular building rising above him, the sound of cheering coming from inside.

"What is this place?" he asked in Latin to a pair of boys nearby. He'd picked up the language soon after the Romans had conquered his tribe in Britain a couple of decades earlier.

"The Amphitheatrum Castrense," one replied, eyeing the pale stranger suspiciously, "It's where gladiators fight each other and criminals are sentenced to die,"

"Cool!" Cadeyrn exclaimed, that sounded exciting. He went round the building and climbed through an open window, making his way through the depths under the stage until he found an opening. Squeezing through, he found himself in the middle of an excited crowd, cheering and jeering alternatively. He pushed his way to the front and looked over to see a pit of sand with several armoured men fighting. He watched awestruck as they dived around each other, cutting and jabbing, until one suddenly fell in a spurt of red and was hastily dragged off by attendants.

The gladiators were followed by the executions, often gruesome but at-least entertaining and Cadeyrn had to give credit to how the punishment often fitted the crime. One group in particular, the 'Christians', seemed to get a particular loathing from the crowd, Cadeyrn wasn't entirely sure why but some of the people around him were shouting about fires and cannibalism, so he assumed they must be some sort of cult. He cheered along with the rest until the executions were finished.

"Next, the Unkillable Man of Ethiopia, give it up for Africanus!" the call came.

A large African man with gleaming muscles and ebony skin walked into the pit, surrounded by guards. Over the next few minutes he was put through various trials, fighting everything from wild beasts to small groups of gladiators, the crowd cheering him along the whole way as he somehow managed to overcome everything that was thrown at him. Most of the audience was simply enraptured at his ability to survive but Cadeyrn noticed something more interesting, none of the blood that covered the great man was his own. In-fact, his wounds almost seemed to be healing... instantly.

"Someone like me?" Cadeyrn gasped in surprise as the triumphant Ethiopian was led away. There were others? This had to be investigated. He decided it was time to leave anyway, some Greek man in the crowd had been looking at him funny for a while, so he disappeared back through the hole he'd entered through and headed for the gladiator's chambers. He slipped past the attendants, they probably imagined he was someone's slave, and walked along the gladiator's chambers until he found the one with the large man inside, sprawled out on a rough straw mattress. The room seemed moderately well-furnished otherwise, at-least to a boy who was accustomed to living in thatched huts, but there were thick bars blocking it's occupant from leaving.

"Pffh, Africanus!" he whispered hurriedly, glancing furtively around in-case anyone saw him.

"Go away, I'm sleeping," the figure inside the cell growled.

"I'm like you, I can't die," Cadeyrn blurted out, deciding to cut to the chase, "You don't have to pretend you aren't, I saw in the game today,"

"Wait, what did you say boy?" the man sat up, his eyes piercing Cadeyrn as deeply as any of his blades had in the arena.

"Watch," Cadeyrn replied, figuring it would be easier to show than tell. Taking the small knife from his belt, with a deft movement he cut across his arm. He winced as blood began to well up but then the wound closed up immediately before the pair's eyes.

"Huh, so you're one of us," the man with a relieved smile, "I thought I given myself away. Did the others send you?"

"There's others?"

"Obviously not then. Some of my friends were meant to be coming to get me out of this place weeks ago, I don't know what's holding them up,"

"Are there lots of people like you, Africanus?" Cadeyrn asked curiously.

"Firstly, that's not my name, I just told them that so I'll be harder to find after I disappear. Call me Memnon. Secondly, I'll do you a deal. Get me out of here and I'll introduce you to the whole club, there's lots of us believe me,"

"Why can't you just fight your way out during a game?" Cadeyrn pointed out, "I mean, it's not like you can die..."

"And blow my cover?" Memnon exclaimed, "The first rule of the Immortal's Club is that we don't go public, there's no telling what the world might do if they knew about us. Legends, tales and such are fine, nothing concrete though that mortals could use against us. However tough we are they still outnumber us countless times. You get me?"

"I suppose," the fae shrugged, he didn't particularly like drawing attention to himself anyway.

"Good, what's your name boy?"

"Cadeyrn, of the Durotriges,"

"Good luck Cadeyrn, I believe they keep the keys up on the floor above here,"

Cadeyrn sneaked upstairs, moving between the underneaths of tables and eventually finding his way to a sleeping guard with a bunch of keys in his hand. He gently pulled them out and then bounced back down to Memnon's cell with a triumphant flourish.

"Great work," Memnon laughed as he used the key to open the door and patted Cadeyrn on the head, "I think you'll fit in just fine at the club, now lets get out of here before anyone notices..."

.​

Addis-Ababa, 1958


"And that is how I joined the Immortal's Club," Cadeyrn finished proudly, "And on the way out of the amphitheatre we fought lots and lots of bad guys and one of their head's just went flying off and then..." He looked down to see Mahmod tapping on his wrist and shaking his head. "Fine," the boy muttered, "So anyway, Memnon introduced me to this club and I'm glad he did. My people used to give presents to dead people for them to use in the next life, so I've brought this,"

He took out a small dagger not unlike the one he'd mentioned earlier in his tale and walking up to the mound, placed it down and gently covered it in soil until it was completely covered.

"Happy battling, Africanus," he whispered with a quick wink.

 

[drmigit2]

Naditabirus looked ragged at the funeral. She was wearing old clothes, her hair was a mess and while she was dressed in black, it certainly wasn?t something she would regularly pick out. She hadn?t slept in a week and it showed, her eyes were baggy and she seemed really jittery. On her black top, one could see white speckles, perhaps she had been eating something with sugar on it. It was difficult to tell with Naditabirus, and when she was called to give her eulogy. She gave everyone a crazed look.

?I-I have been pretty busy, you see. And I have a reason for my appearance, you see. I am on the cusp of catching the bastard Ripper, he is right under my fingernails.? Naditabirus made a loud snort and sighed. ?I promise that I will be the one to take him down, Memnon was a good guy who probably deserved a better death than this one, and I won?t let it be in vein.? Naditabirus brought out a cigarette and desperately tried to light it. The lighter was clearly out of fluid but she kept hitting the striker until her finger started to bleed. She threw the lighter into the sand and cursed. ?Fuck this whole thing!? Was the last she said before exiting the podium. She reached into her left hand pocket and found another lighter, she set her cigarette alight and began moving toward her motorcycle. She was ready to get out of here, but knew she couldn?t. Too much was rushing through her brain at once right now, the motorcycle gave her comfort. She looked into the sun and decided to reflect on everything. Maybe she was missing something?

-----------------

The Ripper was on the loose with Nadi?s knife, the knife that held the secrets she had spent four thousand years trying to uncover. All held in one knife. Naditabirus sighed and turned to Utna. They were in a private room far off from civilization, to discuss terms. ?Utna? she began, ?Here is the deal I will make with you. I will bring down the Ripper, and if you want, I will end your life when I catch him. The one condition is that I want to have ownership of it after.? Naditabirus began to slider her fingers across the wall, while staring Utna in the face. ?I have spent my entire life researching how immortals might die, and the secrets are right under my nose. I don?t know how Tut found the knife, and I only care a little bit into knowing, but that knowledge died with him, as you said. But it?s alright, it?s really alright, I can uncover all the mysteries of that knife if I just get my hands on it. I will learn to replicate the effects, and once I am sure I know how to, I will destroy the knife. See, I think the idea of us being able to die is a decent one. But forcing it on people isn?t really my bag. Aside from the Ripper, he is going to be my test subject. Oh yeah that?s part of the deal too, I want to use the Ripper to figure out exactly the effects the knife has. For example, if I use the hilt of the blade to crush someone?s fingers,? Naditabirus made a quick fist slam on her palm to show what she meant, ?would the fingers stay broken? Or is the enchantment only limited to the blade? I have to know, and I can spend years guessing under limited knowledge and probably get a ninety eight percent estimate on exactly what it does, but I would never know how it works, and my guesses are really just useless in a scientific sense anyway. Everyone?s guesses are worthless when we come down to it. Tests are what are important and do you understand what I am saying? Utna, let me get this knife. It would mean the world to me to finally unravel this damned mystery. Also, the final part of my deal, and this is beneficial to you, is that I wouldn?t share anything I found out, ever. Almost all knowledge I uncover is for the public, I reveal it immediately, but not some things. Some things even I keep secret, and this would be one of them. Utna, I am the best possible person to send after the Ripper, everyone would go after him because they are afraid, but he doesn?t know what I look like. I don?t fear the Ripper, I am intrigued by his weapon, and I want it. He is a runaway test subject for all it really concerns me, and I want my test subject. I know I am rambling, that is what I do when I get excited about something super great, and this is super great. Make the deal, make it now and we will have all our problems taken care of.? Naditabirus stuck out her hand excitedly and began to grab at Utna?s arm. ?We can avenge your friend, and do science while we are at it!?

Utna looked at Naditabirus, he wasn?t doing a whole lot, still probably grieving over his friend, she figured. "We haven't always seen eye to eye', the old immortal sighed, his tired bones rattling with anticipation, 'but if you can find it for me, then you can keep it. I won't care once I'm dead?.

With that, she left in a flash. Naditabirus was confident that within the year she would have the Ripper in chains and on her dissection table. This would be a great deal of fun! At least that was what she had hoped for, in reality it appeared that the Ripper had been planning this for years. He probably didn?t have much else to do anyway. The man was simply gone, gone forever she feared. That was not an option however, he held the greatest secret known to her, and she would have it. It didn?t matter who she had to kill, what she had to do, or how low she would have to stoop. This was worth it. Naditabirus shuffled back and forth inside her hotel room. She had an emergency drug imported from Columbia in case of such a case, and now was the perfect time to break it out. A large twenty kilo box of cocaine. It was so perfect for this situation. She took a huge chunk of it and snorted it immediately. Everything became so much more clear when using it. Fuck the side effects, this was too important.

Everything in her investigation was a bit of a cohesive blur. She went through obituaries constantly to see if anything resembling the Ripper?s work might show up, it did and she investigated. Definitely his work, but no real leads as to where he might be heading. Within a week Naditabirus had followed him out of London and into Wales. Eventually, about a day before the funeral, his trail dried up, as did her cocaine stockpile, which was bad. She almost got kicked off the plane while trying to get on, but it ended up not being a huge deal. She spent the entire flight going over newspaper clippings, and the person sitting next to her seemed nervous the entire time. Nadi?s motorcycle was in the cargo hold of the plane and she could have sworn she left something important in the bag she keeps attached to the left handlebar at all times.

--------------------------

Naditabirus sighed and looked back at the sun. The ripper was somewhere, and this was wasting time. She would need to leave soon, maybe get more coke on the way. She opened the saddlebag to her motorcycle and found in it a map of England. Her eyes grew wide as she tossed it back in the bag and smiled. She knew where to go next.

 

[PlastikThief]

Shanna was not good at funerals. The somber atmosphere was at odds with their optimistic outlook, and not only was the death of someone you loved an awful thing to live through, but the attitudes of the rest of the people around you gave rise to, in Shanna's opinion,a generally poor lot of ideas and feelings.

As it was, Shanna had known Memnon from the very beginning of their immortality. The only time they had spent together was at the burning of the library, but it was an intimate time. The eulogies that Shanna paid attention to were nice, if rambling, and sometimes even funny, if in slightly poor taste. Either way, when Shanna stood to say their piece, at the tail end of Naditabirus', the archivist found themselves lost for words.

"I had not caught up with Memnon before he passed, and I dearly wish that I had. I admired him, and his tenaciousness, his knowledge, and his kindness. He was the first immortal I met, and he was in the area when I the fire engulfed the library. He dragged me from the flames from which I gained my immortality. He helped me adjust for a while, but I was young and brash and tried to go my own way... I didn't see much of him after that. But I valued him as an friend. That's all."

Short, useless. Shanna was not one to deny the alacrity of wordsmithing, but today there were no words. Death of an immortal was unheard of, and Shanna would find out what on this earth could possibly have made it become a reality.

 

[TheIronRuler]

Kuwait, The King's Palace

The King's Palace at Kuwait City was one of the largest and most luxurious building in the bay area. What gave its prestigious status is that the city itself wasn't much of a city but a collection of shacks and a large port. It was an extention of the British Colonial Empire, a small speck in the many overseas territories of the British crown, now dwindling slowly into nothingness. The halls within the Palace were well furnished, its marble walls covered with beautiful paintings from across the globe, long wide halls made ordinary men feel like ants in such an establishment. However, this wasn't the setting for such an underhanded meeting in the Palace - taking place halfway below ground in the kitchens, the two Immortals conspired together in a long-dead tongue, unknown to the locals.

'You are certain you have not been seen', a hooded figure asked the Immortal arriving at the scene. He was wearing a turban and black sunglasses, long grey robes covering his body and hiding its shape undeneath. The second man was dressed much more flamboyantly, sporting an outfit who would put the Emir's wardrobe to shame. Flashy colorful clothes, embroiled with golden letters and gemstones, the very best of craftsmanship.

'Nobody noticed me coming', the second man answered calmly.

'You look like a clown'.

'I look like a guest at the honorable Emir's Palace', the answer shot back with a bit of venom.

'Guests don't go below to the kitchens', he replied, gritting his teeth.

'Calm down, Tut, I came to inspect the food, ask the cooks to do my favorite dish, Organize a coup, whatever suits your fancy', the well-dressed man was calm, laid back and seemed foreign-looking. He was evidently from the far east, one of China's many inland provinces. Sun Wukong the name, and his profession a dark one.

'Speaking of a Coup, Monkey...', Tut spoke gently, slowly closing the distance between the two. 'There is a job I have in mind for you', he finished, nearly whispering. The situation was absurd, with the two speaking in a long dead tongue, yet still careful no others would hear them.

'It costs', the monkey-king retorted with a smug smile on his face.

'Count your debts to me, I'm good for it. I'm cashing out-', heconfronted the other Immortal, 'My share out of syndicate'.

'But everyone has a share!', the monkey-king had his lurid smirk on, 'You can't cash out'.

'Don't give me the mindbender crap, Monkey. I own you', Tut snapped at the flamboyant easterner. 'I need you to acquire something for me, a certain knife of interest...'.

[hr]2[/hr]

Addis Ababa, the Funeral

Anansi was the next in the procession of Immortals giving their last words. The nimble acrobat seemed tired, drained, his hair plastered to his face, black holes under his eyes. He was wearing a ceremonial dress, ornamented with bones and feathers, an old relic of the past world where he held power. Anansi rose from his seat and dragged himself to the front, a frown on his face all the while.

'I came here to repay a debt', Anansi spoke, his somber words piercing through the hearts of the attendants. Everyone knew the feeling, yet they never done so to honor a dead man. 'A debt, even after death, for Memnon. My best of friends. Conquerer of nations, strongest man on earth, now lies underneath it. He was the first to link our two worlds, the old world with the new, us Africans and the Whites. Before Memnon came, we were squabbling amongst ourselves, dividing the people of this land. After the King of Ethiopia returned from his great war however, an entourage followed suite. Some of you stand here, in this sad day. Old faces, never changed. Memnon was a link between worlds, the first to greet countless immortals into this existence, and the first to die, of what I do not know. I loved you like a brother', Anansi was shaking with remorse, his shoulders slumped forward, his eyes staring at the turned earth. Tears swelled in his eyes and dropped slowly, strentching to his cheeks, down to his chin and falling to the earth.

'Fuck all of you', he muttered under his breath, 'This isn't another show'. Anansi walked away, refusing to return to his seat and instead wandering to the other side of the hill, looking down at the city.

Next stood Isaac, if you would call what he did standing at all. He swaggered from left to right, barely keeping himself on his legs when walking forward. He first adressed the other side of the hill, then turned in embaressment which quickly faded and spoke to the crowd.

'He's out there, the goddamned Ripper, I swear it to you all, and he killed our best, I tells you!', he slurred his words, burping between every second one, his eyes wandering around the group. Shouts from the crowd stung at him, cries of 'drunk', 'fucking jew' and 'failure' echoed through the crowds. It was clear he was disgracing himself in front of everyone, but he didn't care one bit. He knew the truth, after all. It took him a few more minutes of ranting before he was dragged away by two unfamiliar Immortals, and tossed to the side head first. Isaac tasted dirty in his mouth and couldn't find the strength to get up. He slipped into sleep at once, forgetting the nightmare that was the funeral and leaving it behind.

Mahmod followed the disgraceful preformance of Isaac, all shivering in anticipation. He was sweating, his hands trembling and his legs wobbling under him. He got himself in front of the crowd and coughed a few times, then coughed some more. Angry looks from all around forced him to begin his speech, but everything he had written down he forgot righ there.

'I...I...I didn't want to loose him, I... He was in my hands when he... bled... the wounds wouldn't close, and the knife... the knife cut through, and he didn't even try to stop it... nobody thought it was real... nobody thought the creation of-', Mahmod was abruptly cut off by Utna who jumped to his feet and held him by both of his hands. He was half-dragged half escorted away, a stream of apologies escaping the old immortal's mouth. 'Keep your mouth shut', he whispered to Mahmod, 'Or do I have to call in the Banker?'. The two walked away to the shade, standing behind a large tree. The conversation between them grew heated, and in the meanwhile more immortals spoke about the life of Memnon, but only Mahmod spoke of his death - which was the thing everyone came to hear about.

 

[booksv2]

Showing up late to the funeral Jack walked into the area with a deep black new suit and holding a small case at his side. Looking around at the one speaking he stays in the back as Screecher finished up her speech and stepped down. Watching Nadi get up next Jacks head shakes at her appearance and the rambling that she did for a few minutes.

Stepping forward and weaving his way through some immortals he doesn't know Jack steps up behind Screecher and sets the case he had been carrying down on the chair next to her.

"Some drinks to easy the passing the listening"

Screecher looked down at the case, seemingly none too shocked at Jack's quiet appearance, before looking back down at her owl flask. She stared at it for a long while, before eventually whispering,

"Seems all we've been doing lately is drinking. I know that is there ever was a time to be getting wasted, it's now, but..." Screecher looked up at Jack, her eyes troubled. "Surely we should be at least trying to keep a clear head, right? That's what I keep telling myself, and I still find myself starring down into a bottle."

She sighed, and was silent for a moment, before again looking up.

"Thanks, though. I was starting to run dry...again."

"Clear headed..."
Jack shakes his head and moves around to sit on the chair next to the case, his back straight as he sits on the chair.

"Here where the first time an immortal has died and it was not by his own will. It may be good to be clear headed but I think that drinking enough to blur those older memory's helps if you have to talk to anyone without shutting yourself down with old memory's and getting lost in them.

Opening the case and pulling out a bottle Jack turns it and tilts it to present the label to Screecher.

"I found some brandy that has been aging for a few decades. It was tucked away in a little shop in London."

Screecher's expression turned curious, taking the bottle from Jack, she titled the container around to get a better look at the label.

"Hmm, my favorite, too." Screecher nodded appreciatively. "Must have cost a pretty penny, Jack." She raised an eye brow, though there was a more humoured light in her eyes.
"Knowing todays climate, I don't think it's wise to be spending this much on drinks. After all," She gestured to the funeral at large. "This is going to cause a few problems down the line, I can already tell."


Handing the bottle to Screecher and pulling out a second smaller bottle Jack opens that one right away and lifts it to take a small drink before putting the cap back on it and itself back in the case.

"It was a few thousand pounds. I was wise in some of the past years and have been putting money in a few of those bank things that have been popping up all around. The money I drew for this was not to much."

"Fair enough: it's your funds, do as you will." Screecher shrugged, resettling in her seat, still inspecting the bottle. After a moment, she asked,

"What do you make of...this?" She gestured around vaguely, mostly at the buried body of their the Immortal. "This is going to cause quite the stirr, right? And the last I heard, Jack- oh er," she coughed awakwardly, before trying again. "The Ripper Jack, was still out there, somewhere."

She turned in her seat, her mouth forming a hard line.

"This is going to lead to some changes, and I'd rather not be the one to suffer from them, if you catch my drift."


Nodding slowly and following her motion Jack stares at the grave and leans back slightly in his chair.
"Yes, it will cause changes. We know Nadi is looking for that knife, and some of the other immortals have started to hate being undying."

Shaking his head and look back at Screecher.

"Yes, I believe the Ripper is still on the loose with the greatest threat we have ever had to worry about. Plus there are the rest that have been trapped because they broke some rule, and a few are more dangerous than him even with that knife. I understand where you are coming from, I don't want to get pulled into something that could kill me."

Jack stops and looks out over the field and his eyes glaze just slightly. Saying softly more to himself than Screecher next to him.
"When was the last time I said that?"

The ex-owl gave him a sympathetic smile. She turned that idea over in her head slightly: the idea of her life being at threat. It seemed like a foreign concept now. She had spent so long of her first life so aware of danger, now she could hardly think of a time she ever felt truly vulnerable before now.
She turned to him, patting his shoulder.

"Thank you, Jack. For the gift, I mean." She gestured to the bottle. "I may be debating the evils of drink, but a gift is a gift."


Smiling at Screecher Jack nods and looks back up to the stage as someone was dragged off, but he couldn't quite make out who because they were taken off before he got a good look. Looking back to the person sitting with him he waves his fingers at the bottle she is holding.

"welcome, and I think that a little is fine as long as it is getting wasted you are against."

 

[JoJo]

Cadeyrn sighed as he trudged out of the funeral, he'd already drunk enough and didn't feel like mourning any longer. He took the scribbled note out of his back pocket, thinking about how he might get to the place he'd found. Last time he heard the Middle Kingdom had been taken over by communists who weren't too friendly to Western foreigners, especially those with no official documentation. He thought for a while and suddenly an idea struck him, with a determined grin he turned around and walked back towards the burial grounds.

.​

Mount Putuo, China

Some time later, Cadeyrn peered out of the glass windows of the small aeroplane as it ducked and dived over Chinese countryside, the buildings of Shanghai lining the horizon like odd rectangular mountains.

"Thanks for giving me a lift!" he called to Xi and Jade over the roar of the engine, the old couple still dressed in their traditional robes despite their more modern method of transportation.

"No problem," Xi shouted back, "We owe you one after that mess in Hong Kong."

"What's going on down there?" Cadeyrn pointed to groups of villagers gathered below, undergoing some sort of work around furnaces and quarries.

"It's the Great Leap Forward," Xi replied proudly, "Started just this year, a keystone of Chairman Mao's five year plan for industrialising our nation quickly. Great, isn't it?"

Cadeyrn shrugged, the ant-like people certainly seemed very busy at whatever they were doing.

"Are you sure you don't want a parachute dear," Jade added, "Won't it hurt when you hit the ground?"

"Nah," the boy laughed, "It's so fast you don't feel a thing, I'll wake up on the ground fully mended again. A parachute would just attract attention anyway,"

"Well, here we are, Mount Putuo," Xi announced. Cadeyrn looked out of the window to see an island covered in green trees, with small temples and other holy buildings dotted around between the foliage. "We'll be staying in Shanghai for the next week if you need our help to get back," the man added, passing a note with an address written on.

"Cheers, later," Cadeyrn replied as he opened the door and leapt out of the aircraft without hesitation, plummeting towards the ground at an incredible speed. "Wooooah!" he cried as he did a couple of somersaults and then pretended he was flying like a bird, thrusting his hands out like wings. The ground shot up towards him with an inevitability until...

~​

Cadeyrn awoke in a patch of grass and took a few moments to remember where he was. He'd landed on a hillside, surrounded by a protective ring of trees. He brushed himself off and waved goodbye to Xi and Jade's aeroplane as it disappeared on the horizon. He then wandered down through the forest until he spotted a wooden monastery sitting on the edge of the lake, a little smoke coming out from a small chimney.

"Maybe they'll know where Guanyin is," he thought to himself. He sneaked along the edge of the house and walked through the open doorway, tip-toeing so his shoes didn't clatter against the stone floor.

"Ah, greetings young one," a voice came in Mandarin Chinese from behind Cadeyrn, he jumped and spun around to see a elderly monk sitting cross-legged on the floor. "I sense you come from faraway to find something," the old man added gently. Cadeyrn nervously nodded and sat in front of the monk, the calmness of the man to a stranger in his home unnerved him a little. The monk's eyes were glazed over and didn't seem to be quite looking at him, the boy realised that he was probably blind.

"I'm looking for Guanyin, please," Cadeyrn replied quietly in the man's language, thankful that Chinese hadn't changed much in the past few decades.

"The Goddess of Mercy?" the monk asked with a chuckle, "She's everywhere, and nowhere, but especially up at the statue in the centre of the island. It's large and golden, so they tell me, you can't miss it," Cadeyrn was about to ask another question when the monk added, "Hurry along little ghost, I hear some others coming." Cadeyrn pricked his ears and sure enough he heard shouts and footsteps in the distance.

"Thanks!" he blurted out quickly and then ran out of the back of the temple, the beams of torches skimming over his head as he skipped along the water's edge. He continued to run but the voices slowly got louder, he realised someone must have seen him fall from the sky. "No, no, no!" he cried as he turned down an alleyway and saw the statue he was looking for peering down at him... from behind a ten foot wall with no obvious hand or footholds. He looked around whilst trying to catch his breath, there was no visible escape route.

"Freeze, spy!" shouts in Mandarin came from behind him as a group of armed men appeared at the other end of the alleyway, their guns all pointed firmly at the boy. "Get down on the ground now!"

 

[Baddamobs]

Screecher had been watching as Utna had dragged Mahmod off, whispering curses and harsh words. A frown stretched itself across her face as she put the drink Jack had presented aside for a moment.

On one hand, she could understand what Utna was trying to do: they really could do without more Immortals trying to follow the knife (that coked up 'Nadi' was likely going to do enough damage by herself), but on the other hand, something about this whole situation seemed...

Suspicious... Screecher absently scratched her chin, her gaze never sifting from the two Immortals heatedly arguing under the tree. It was clear Utna knew about the knife before hand; how else could he have made the deal with Tut otherwise? And that damn head must have known about it LONG before we put him to sleep permanently, or else he couldn't have convinced Utna...he used the knife exactly as you'd expect: one last trump card up his sleeves.

Screecher hesitated a moment, eyes skyward, before continuing,
Metaphorical sleeves. Though, that raises the question of if it had been a recent find by Tut, or if he had been sitting on that ace for thousands of years before finally calling it quits. Screecher clenched her teeth slightly, her whole body tensing. An even better question, was Utna even planning on revealing the knife to anyone after he was done? Did he plan on just hiding it away? Or was he planning on letting it be discovered alongside his corpse?

Too many questions, and not enough answers.

Screecher didn't like this set up, not a single bit.

"Excuse me." She said absently to Jack, before standing to her feet, and quickly making her way across to the two shaded Immortals. She didn't like the set up, but she knew a way to solve the situation.

When she was only a few feet from the two Immortals, she called out:

"Utna." She remained calm and held a neutral expression: don't give a single thing away.

After making sure she had the Immortal's attention, she closed the rest of the distance, and began speaking in a hushed tone.

"Listen, Utna." Screecher locked eyes with him, unblinking, her tone hard. "I understand why you're hiding the knife from the others." She gestured vaguely with a hand to the crowd of Immortals.

"But I object to you hiding anything from us, our circle of the Club. We were the ones who saw the knife actually be used, and we were the ones who saw Memnon die. If anyone deserves to know about the damn thing, its us.
"I know WHY you wanted it. Hell, I think their might be a few among us who can sympathize. But," Her frown deepened. "there's a lot your not telling us: where did Tut get knife in the first place? What were you planning to do with it after your time had come? Hell, what is the damn thing even made of."

She titled her head, looking down her nose at the other Immortal, similar to how one observes a squished bug on the bottom of their shoe.
"I for one, don't like being kept in the dark. And I doubt the others are any less curious." At this, she gestured to the rest of their click of the Club, mostly aiming for Ali, Jack and Shanna (Shenshen was likely sleeping off his drinks in a tent somewhere, Cadeyrn had left shortly after his speech, and Nadi was likely not even in the country anymore).

She turned back to Utna.
"Well?"

 

[Frission]

Shenshen was sleeping off his drinks in the branches of a large tree. The partial shade was good and it was rather cool. He would rate the tree as one of the finest establishments in which he had ever napped.

How did he get in the tree? He had no idea and he didn't care.

Last thing he remembered, Shenshen had been slowly drinking himself to a stupor in the luxury tents. He had helped himself to some Ethiopian Ensete and they had been quite good. Unfortunately however the gourmet tents were abuzz with talk and thrill seeking immortals constantly asked him to recount his "confrontation" with Jack. He had then gotten up to find a more peaceful location.

Well it didn't matter now, Shenshen thought as his consciousness faded away and he dreamed.

Troy:
A long time ago it seems now

On a hill overlooking the city, Shenshen had been arguing with Memnon.

"I had warned them from the start that it should have thrown that stupid prince and the woman he kidnapped back to the Greek. Those fools wouldn't listen though and now they're paying for it"

Memnon had said something about duty and saving his allies, then started walking towards the city.

Shenshen had sneered at Memnon's loyalty and "duty" and had moved in his way.

"Well I suppose it's lucky that you're not dead, but follow my advice and get out of here as fast as you can. Mortals die all the time and for nothing at all. They keep on massacring each other over and over. I think you shou-"

Memnon then grabbed Shenshen and broke the latter's spine and left him in the dirt. He then started running down towards the city.

He faded from view as the darkness of the night swallowed him. Shenshen had looked at the immortal stunned.

Shenshen was one of the oldest beings on the planet. He looked down on many of the mortals that now lived, seeing them as foolish beings that lived and died and had meaningless lives. As a superior being, no one would understand him and he had experienced everything that was worthwhile in life.
In a way he was being consumed by apathy and despair.

He was thus surprised about the way Memnon ran to save the citizens of Troy. When he finally got up, Shenshen yelled for Memnon to wait for him, as he ran to help any surviving Trojans.

(They both ran down to Troy, embers lighting the night sky)

Memnon had changed Shenshen for the better.

Modern day atop a tree:

Shenshen said "Goodbye" to nobody in particular and got up. He was done snoozing.

He felt refreshed and energized, and felt better than he had felt for the past few centuries. He was ready to do some action, not to mention that somehow the confusion that had gripped Shenshen for the past week was gone.

He didn't feel that drunk either. One of the features of being an immortal after all was that their bodies quickly countered the effects of "poisons", which unfortunately included alcohol.

He started to stretch. He was now ready to fulfill his duties as a Sheriff for the Immortal's Club!

He heard voice and saw Utna and Screecher below him. In his surprise he slipped and fell.

As he crashed into the ground, he could only belatedly wonder why he was in a tree.

 

[TheIronRuler]

'Have you done it before?', Utna asked her, his sunken eyes looking at her in desperation, 'Have you felt the cold steel against your wrist, the fibers of the rope burning at your sore neck, every thought in your body turned to praying for it to end?'. Mahmod was slumped over, his gaze directed at the father of the club, a mixed look of understanding and disgust in his eyes. 'Everyone tried it once', he whispered at the desperate immortal. 'I doesn't work-', Mahmod was cut off by Utna turning his head to meet his sight, his hand outstreched, finger pointing at the hill above, '-And what is that?'.

'If you could go back, if you found a way to reverse what you experienced, won't you do anything in youer power to get there, no matter the costs?', he turned to Screecher, knowing her past experiences, 'returning to the sky on your own, one last time?'.

'I never worked a day for all of this money. The club has a benefactor, and it was he who wanted the knife after I was done with it... and now Tut, the only person who knew about the thing is gone, and the knife is gone, and Memnon is dead. I'm lost', his eyes darted between the two figures, a third approaching them now, Marco's mercenary. 'Him-', he looked up at Shenshen, 'He works for him, he does his dirty work'. Utna walked to Shenshen, puffing out his chest in a last attempt to save his image, 'What does your employed has to say now? You've lost the Ripper, and you come drunk to a funeral. What would the Spice Mechant say about that?'.

 

[Mr.Ivebeenframed]

Ali listened on, half wrapped up in thought and the other half still saddened by Memnom's death but then Utna spoke. She heard what the said, or what he tried to get to Screecher. The thought of death always lingered in her mind but her Immortal situation never really allowed it to get to her. She never wanted to die. Death was nothing but something mortals experienced on a daily basis. Death was their play thing but now it was very real and thoughts were emerging in her head. Deadly thoughts.

"What would the Spice Mechant say about that?"

"We can still get the Ripper." Ali said aloud to Urta and to the others, aware of her ridiculous optimism. The task of getting the Ripper was fighting death itself but something was better than nothing and there were others already looking for him. It wasn't hard finding an Immortal but it was another matter in confronting them. "Finger-pointing isn't going to help us find him and neither is blaming others. We need to focus and know everything we have to know to get the Ripper. For the first time in our lives, time now has a meaning and I finally get why mortals are so finicky about death."

 

[Frission]

Shenshen dusted himself off and got up. He definitely shouldn't have followed the example of Isaac. Utna was now in front of him, angry and accusing and Shenshen resigned himself to talking to The boatman.

Ali had just given a speech about the importance of working together and finding Jack, which he was grateful for.
"Thank you Ali, but there is something I must clarify with Utna and well... all of you."

"Marco would say as he usually does that it's an unfortunate setback. Although I will rightly have to apologize to most of the immortals present about my deplorable behavior" He adopted a vague smile.

"The raid was only allowed to proceed as it did because Marco allowed it. We had good faith that we could limit casualties and damages while letting you men accomplished your goal. I was delayed unfortunately and was not able to supervise as well as I would hoped. Especially due to the matter of a certain Jack being present, beyond the calculations of either I or my employer."

A small frown flickered on his face for a moment, before being replaced by his same vague smile. Shenshen still suspected that Jack was released precisely to distract him and Marco, but he kept that to himself. He noticed Screecher observing and nodded apologetically to her. "There was alot going on behind the scenes."

"The knife is a pretty dangerous item Utna, and it was better in the hands of whatever authority existed instead of becoming a tool for squabbles. Marco would only get it after you were done with it, in an act of consideration" Here he spread his arms and made a gesture to indicate most of the immortals present.

"In fact, I would think that most immortals appreciate that I desist from meddling in immortal business, except in the most grave situations. Marco and I aren't tyrants after all. We desist from interceding in immortal activities even if they may break some of the more light rules of the club."

Here Shenshen's eyes grew cold.

"We're not that ignorant of what our members do. We just choose to let them have a bit of liberty as long as they don't cross a line. It's unfortunate that our policy let such an event occur."

Shenshen wandered away and looked at the city beneath them, turning his back on Utna.

"If you an objection to the way we let the situation degenerate, Marco and I are more than happy to take a more direct approach to managing the club. I am sorry however for remaining secretive on this manner."

Shenshen sighed. He held a piece of paper in his hand. He couldn't remember the whole speech and had needed to take a copy of it out from his pocket to finish it.

So much for having a good day.He already had to make the small speech Marco had given him.

 

[TheIronRuler]

'I...I...', Utna found himself at a loss of words, 'I promised him the knife, like Tut said, and he gave us his word, and his money, b-but it wasn't my fault-', he looked around him, noticing the other immortals staring at him the wrong way. 'How could I have known Tut would let the Ripper, of all immortals, go free? I wouldn't have given the psycho a chance even if Rome burned and he had the keys to the well!'.

'You can't threaten me', Utna marched to Shenshen, trying his damndest to look threatning, 'I made this club!'.


Persia, Somewhere in the desert mountains

It was hot. It was hot, and sandy, and Tut was getting sick of aimlessly wandering the wastes in hopes of finding who he was looking for. It had been a week now, yet he hadn't found any sign of life. He was constantly thirsty and hungry, and regretted the trip altogether. Sun Wukong would surely get what he was paid to find - the question was, whether he was going to bring it back or not.

The sun was at the top of the clear blue skies when Tut decided he had enough, and couldn't be buggered to find the Stranger. He heard stories of the immortal, yet he never really believed them. Older than Utna even, the Stranger was rumored to be one among the gods, bestowed with powers beyond comprehension. All hogwash, of course, just as he was the son of the sun and could shoot lightning out of his arse. He wrote all of that propoganda down, after all. It occured to him he was getting wet, the feeling spreading across his backside. He smiled as the cool sensation overtook him, but a niggling doubt nestled in the back of his mind - where the hell was this coming from?

He heard the second jab, the short blade sticking his shoulder, cutting right through the main artery and the point slipping from the other side. Throwing knives, he had gone slow after all that sitting around the fireplace, head firmly placed on the wood, utterly bored out of his mind. A third one snapped him in the back of his neck, which caused his plea for help to end up as a soft gurgle of blood. He turned around, his hands clutching at the back of his neck, twisting the blade away and tossing it aside. He did the same with the two other blades, expecting more to find him in the eye or the groin, yet nothing came at him.

'You're not dead', a sad voice, a tired voice, a voice coming from the distance, faintly feminine, came to Tut's ears. He had never heard it before in his life.

'Neither will I ever be', Tut answered, shouting at the faraway figure, raising his arms in the air and walking towards it with a swagger fit for a king in his own palace.

'That's not right', the voice mused, 'You're another immortal', it concluded. Tut closed the distance between the two, the other figure not moving from its place. It sat atop a pile of boulders, leaning on its haunches, staring into the distance.

'Good guesswork. I presume I am met with the Stranger?', Tut asked causiously, sweat nervously trickling down his face. He was standing at the foot of the rubble, looking at up the suspicious figure. She was dressed in a short black skirt, a torn leather jacket strapped around her shoulders, revealing a small silver of naked skin. 'You owe me new clothes', Tut said, beginning his ascent, 'but you could use a new wardrobe as well'. He slipped on one of the rocks and nearly fell flat on his face, when he looked up she was gone from where she was standing.

'I like it this way', her voice came from behind Tut, and the Egyptian Prince turned in his place to find her standing right next to him, her breath hissing at his face. 'Why are you here?', she demanded, the edges of her mouth turning down into a slight frown, more threatening than anything else.

'Ameretat, The Stranger, The Persian...', Tut was counting names, saying each one out loud, his tongue rolling off at every syllable as if savoring every word, 'Many names, yet one woman. One Immortal I desperately need'. Tut held his right hand, reached for her and blinked in shock as she suddenly stood two feet away from him. 'You're fast', he mumbled in shock as he tried to ascertain what trick she played on his mind.

'It comes and goes', she answered, this time her frowd turning up, grinning slightly at Tut's flabbergusted expression.

'We are fighting a war', Tut couldn't finish his sentence before the Stranger was already on top of him, pushing him down on the rubble, her chest pressing on him, her breath hissing at his face. 'I don't care', she whispred, her mouth moving towards Tut's left cheek. 'The mortals need us', Tut muttered fearfully, his body shaking in anticipation. 'I don't care', the same words came out her mouth as she moved her head back and craned her head to the left. 'Why should you?', she asked him, a small sense of intrigue in her tone of voice, 'Your people are dead'.

Tut remembered the pyramids, the races he had with his younger brother around them, his people looking up at his chariots, cheering for their young princes as they went past them speeding through the dust. He pictured the long river lazily moving down, the pleasure barges, home to trained slaves and delicacies from across the great wastes. His heart broke at the realization he won't hear his childhood's favorite song ever again, or speak to someone in his native tongue. All dead, all forgotten, all replaced by others.

'So are yours', he replied, the hint of a tear in the corner of his eye, wiggling away and forming reluctantly. 'Our fight is to prevent more people from dying and turning into one', Tut raised his lips to meet the Stranger's, but she was already gone before he could taste her.

'War among us always involves the death of mortals. How could it prevent it?', she asked curiously, perched on top of a large boulder halfway up the rubble. Tut realized she was standing on top of a ruined temple, the entrance caved in on itself. 'We have a weapon', he croaked in disbelief, 'We stop him from reaching the source'.

 

[Frission]

I made this club!

Utna's desperation slightly shocked Shenshen, although he did his best not to show it. He focused on the other immortal. Utna was the same when they had first met on the once fertile farms of Sumeria, when the boatman had invited Shenshen to take part in what would become the Immortals club (the workers sang as the plowed the earth). He seemed so wise back then too, but he like all immortals had changed. Shenshen briefly considered asking Utna when his despair had started, when an idea that occurs to all immortals changed to an obsession, since he still did owe the other immortal alot. Better not here though.

Shenshen realized that he had been staring Utna straight in the eye for the past few minutes, which was probably intimidating. He closed his eye and slowly said.

"I know, Utna. I know that better than most and I'm grateful, but some of the laws of this club were written by you as well. I remembered you once spoke favorably of Hammurabi's laws, because they made no distinction of class or privilege. Everyone is accountable in those laws, and quite frankly it's high time to enforce more strictly those laws."

He paused and sat down in the shade of the tree. "You're wrong about one thing Utna. I'm not sure about my benefactor, but personally I'm just asking that you come clean about the whole mess."

He looked at Screecher, Jack and Ali and the other immortals present. "Now for their sake, can you explain what you know about the whole sad affair?"

Shenshen was in the dark about many things and despite his bravado he did want to know about the knife that Marco had wanted so badly.

 

[Baddamobs]

"If you could go back, if you found a way to reverse what you experienced, won't you do anything in your power to get there, no matter the costs? Returning to the sky on your own, one last time?"

Screecher tried to keep her expression stony. Tried to halt the barrage of images and memories. Tried, and failed.

The rest of the world faded from her, replaced with another. One of the wind whistling by her, of the landscape spread out beneath her like a tapestry made by the world's most inspired artist, a world filled with the feeling of freedom.

At one point, the world had nothing that she desired: when one was already content, why desire anything at all? Her belly was always full of only the most worthy hunted prey, the forest shivered at the sound of her magnificent call, and her every instinct and feeling was her own.

Her days were filled with dreams and idle musings from the safety of her nest, her nights filled with the thrill of the hunt and the satisfaction of victory. Her life was simple in a way, but she wanted nothing else in it.

This was her world, where the only worry was if she should hunt mice or sparrows for the night, and one that now just a vague memory.

You had thrown it all away...over a matter of pride.
Now you are beyond redemption. Beyond going back...

"Now for their sake, can you explain what you know about the whole sad affair?"

Screecher shook herself, looking around. When had Shenshen arrived?

Well, whatever the matter, it sounded like he was trying to talk Utna into talking about the knife (more about the knife? She thought she had half heard something during her 'flash back'). She re-focused, but made a mental note to open that bottle from Jack soon: she was going to have to be sloshed tonight if she wanted any sleep at all.

 

[JoJo]

Cadeyrn lowered himself to his knees, placing his hands on his head and cursing repeatedly under his breath. How could he got so close and yet fall at the last hurdle? Suddenly an incredibly bright light shone throughout the alleyway from behind him, the Chinese soldiers covering their eyes as they cried out in pain. In the confusion Cadeyrn felt a larger hand take hold of his and a soft, breezy female voice whispered in his ear.

"Come with me, little ghost," Cadeyrn let himself be led by the hand and after a time as his sight returned, he found himself standing indoors, a Asian woman staring down at him with a kind look on her face. She appeared neither young nor old and wore a long brown coat, with what appeared to be a skirt and sensible shoes.

"Are you Guanyin?" Cadeyrn asked curiously, squinting at the woman.

"Yes dear, I am" she replied simply with a smile, "Call me Rin though, it's what all my friends do,"

"Okay Rin, I'm Cadeyrn, thanks for saving me back there," the boy said happily, taking a better look at his surroundings. He was in a small warmly lit room with a square table in the middle, out of the windows he could make out the parts of the island he had seen earlier, he realised they must be high up one of the hills. Across the back of the room were a collection of dusty relics, ranging from curved swords and helmets on one side to a blue flag with a white star on the other side and what looked like part of an aircraft wing, the words 'Kritzer Industries' stamped on the side. "Well, it's not quite..." he started hesitantly.

"Not quite what you expected?" the woman chuckled, "Well, I do put on a show for the mortals but we both know you would see past that yes?"

"I thought you'd be sitting on a lotus flower or something," Cadeyrn grinned, relaxing some more, "What are those?" he asked, pointing to the trophies behind Rin.

"Just some trinkets I've collected in my time," she shrugged, "Some from ages past, others, from times yet to have happened, which may never happen in fact, time is a funny thing,"

"Are you an immortal too then?" Cadeyrn asked, not quite understanding what she was on about.

"I don't entirely know, I can tell you I haven't died yet though," Rin winked, "Well do sit down," she urged and Cadeyrn sat down at the table while she poured him a drink. "Hot chocolate," She said as she passed the mug over to him with a flourish, before sitting opposite him and meeting his gaze. "So Cadeyrn, what is it you seek from me?"

"I want to go home, my real home, in the Otherworld," Cadeyrn said with a sigh, "I was banished by the Fae Queen almost two thousand years ago, it wasn't even my fault really, she just overreacted. I really can't find a way back, it's not fair."

"I bet you miss it right?" Rin replied sympathetically, shaking her head sadly.

"Yes!" Cadeyrn exclaimed, "I miss the endless fields where it's summer all year round and I miss being able to fly and change my form whenever I want and I miss..." he paused, he wouldn't admit this to the other immortals but Rin gave off such a feeling of grandmotherly kindness he couldn't hold himself back, "I miss my mum," he said simply, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

"Of course you do," Rin intoned gently, reaching out to stroke the boy's shoulder, "I wish I could undo your curse, I really do, but that is outside the remit of even my power." Cadeyrn crumpled in despair. "I do know something-else which may help however," she quickly added.

"You do?" Cadeyrn exclaimed, sitting back up attentively.

"This," Rin went up to a nearby bookshelf and selected a book, opening it carefully before the boy. On the page was a painted illustration of a shining sword with a ruby in it's hilt, surrounded by Chinese symbols. Cadeyrn didn't need to be able to read them to recognise the blade.

"Excalibur," he breathed, the sight taking him back one and a half thousand years ago to when he had last seen the blade. The day of the battle of Camlann, the day of all hope had been lost of ever defeating the Saxons. "But Excalibur was lost when King Arthur had to be sealed away," he said aloud to Rin, "I was there, I saw it all happen, the sword was thrown back into the lake so no-one could ever do bad things with it again,"

"Indeed, the sword was thought to be lost until recently," Rin replied, "Some records I've uncovered recently however indicate it was almost certainly rescued from the lake and locked away in Avalon along with Arthur, awaiting his eventual return to our world."

"Huh," Cadeyrn said, "but, how could Excalibur help me anyway?"

"Don't you remember?" Rin asked, "Well, I suppose it was a long time ago. Arthur had the Lady of the Lake bless the blade with an enchantment that could break any fairy's spell, no exceptions, so he could fight Morgan le Fay,"

"So that means Excalibur could break the curse?!" Cadeyrn replied excitedly.

"I think it could, though you would have to bring the sword to me first so we could research it safely together. Could you do that Cadeyrn?"

"Yes!" the boy said enthusiastically, almost jumping out of his seat "How do I find it then?"

"The legend says that to reach the island of Avalon, one must possess the purest of hearts,"

"Um, well..." Cadeyrn said awkwardly, "I'm not exactly..."

"That shouldn't be a problem, I believe something else will do in it's place. Somewhere in the holy land lies the last remaining piece of the True Cross, last time I heard it was in the possession of a family by the name of Gibran, though that was many years ago. The purity of that relic surely will grant you access to Avalon."

"How will I know if it's genuine though?" Cadeyrn asked with a troubled expression. "Every second church out there has one of those,"

"Trust me, when you touch the real article you'll know," Rin chuckled to herself.

"Thanks, I'll try my best," Cadeyrn enthused, reaching forward to give Rin a hug.

"Excellent, it may take years to find what you need but us two have all the time in the world, I'll be waiting here," Rin replied, returning the boy's hug warmly, "Good luck, Cadeyrn."

Cadeyrn bid his farewells and then left the house with a smile on his face, the young fae rejuvenated by the new direction in his search. As Rin watched him walk down the path, a sly grin played across her face for a moment before she turned around and went back indoors, her dwelling shimmering out of view for anyone who might be watching.

 

[drmigit2]

?I?m out of everything.? Naditabirus sighed in defeat as she stared at her empty wooden box that once held cocaine, and her empty cigarette case. It was all gone, and it had only been a week. Granted, she had managed to basically follow the body trail the Ripper left all the way to Casablanca, which happened to be within reasonable flying distance from Cairo. Naditabirus considered going to Columbia first, but it was simply out of the question, not when she was this close. Besides, while Naditabirus? direct connections were in Columbia, Mahmod had a few of his own which he had been nice enough to share with Naditabirus in her occasional times of need. She didn?t know if he would approve of her going to them now, but fuck him, there were more important things to worry about. Naditabirus chucked the wooden box out of her hotel room and it turned to splinters on the ground, right in front of a few disgruntled arab folks. They yelled at her and she yelled back before grabbing her bags and walking down a few flights of stairs to her motorcycle.

Pay phones were the main means of contacting people in Egypt, and Naditabirus always felt like someone was watching her when she used them. Didn?t help that she was suffering withdrawals from her cocaine stash. She dialed an international number and threw enough change into the phone to make it go for about an hour. After about a minute of ringing, a gritty voice answered the phone.

?Boss? This you? I usually hear about this calls well in advance, I promise I ran as quickly as I could when I heard word of-?

?I NEED YOUR COKE NOW, DICKFACE!? Naditabirus yelled into the phone loud enough to probably alert everyone within a thirty mile radius. The phone went silent for about twenty seconds and replied. ?Oh, we will have your supply ready when you arrive, M?am.?

The airport was gracious enough to keep her motorcycle box, partially thanks to Marco pulling strings in the Lich?s favor. It made travel so much easier, just being able to place a sticker on a box and place her motorcycle inside. Still, Naditabirus wished that she had more control over how it arrived at the location designated. It was far too big to simply place on the plane, so usually a cargo plane would take it slightly after she left. This would mean a few hours up to a day at the airport waiting, which she really didn?t have time for. But, the good news was that everything within Casablanca was within walking distance, probably why the Ripper picked the location. Still, it had proved a valuable asset in the past, and now was the time in which every single asset could be used. Naditabirus sighed as she stared at her empty cigarette box and boarded the plane.
??????


After she arrived in Casablanca, Naditabirus was met fairly quickly by Mahmod?s contact. He was dressed in a white tuxedo and sported an admittedly fine Panama hat. He quickly removed it upon seeing Naditabirus and smiled. ?Welcome to Casablanca, miss! Your escort is here.? Naditabirus looked at the man with her bloodshot eyes and said, ?Cut the shit. You and me are going on an adventure, Stevie. By the way, I hope you brought the stuff because if you didn?t I think your boss is going to be disappointed.

?I hate it when he sends you.? Was all the man had to say as he put on his panama and walked out of the airport. The two quickly made their way to a rather nice looking Porsche, all black exterior and interior with doors about as sound tight as they can be. Naditabirus looked at her escort and he quickly moved to unlock the doors. She hopped in the Porsche and examined the backseat. Below the first cushioned seat, was a nice big box of the great white savior. She quickly scooped it up, made a line and sniffed it. Her escort, who?s name was actually Barry, shook his head and said ?Doing coke in an airport is generally unadvisable.? Naditabirus looked at the car?s ceiling and smiled.

?Hey Stevie, let?s go to Casablanca?s hotel district.?

?What do I look like, your fucking cab driver? I was told to drive you to the compound-?

Naditabirus pulled out a revolver and pointed it directly at Barry?s penis. ?I have more important matters to attend to. You are going to come with me and we will sort out a much more important issue. Your boss? friend recently was killed. I am here to find this person and dispose of him, the coke was just a side mission. I know where he is, and you will take me there. Doing so will earn you points with your boss, failure to comply will cost you your balls.?

Barry sweated a bit and asked. ?How the hell did you get that on a plane, you crazy broad??

?Friends in high places, nobody in security wants to touch me.?

?You?re crazy!?

?And you have a gun to your penis, Steve.?

Naditabirus cocked the gun and Barry said ?Fine! If this will make the boss happy, then I can do it. But if I find out you are lying to me, it?s gonna be deep shit for both of us.?

?Mostly you.? Naditabirus said jokingly as she holstered her pistol into a pocket in her petticoat. She looked out the window with a smile on her face. She could feel herself closing in on the Ripper. ?I am pretty sure we might both die doing this.? She said to herself without much of a care, ?Though figuring out what death really is first hand would be an accomplishment in itself, I suppose.? Barry just tried his best to focus on the road.

?????????????

Hotel Cabana, a sterling unique name, Naditabirus was admiring just how large it was, and how ironic for such a building to have an uninspired name. She turned to Barry and said ?I am going to go in, our target needs to think I am alone, otherwise he won?t take the bait. I want you to stay afar and watch me. I will probably need your help, and no leaving. Seriously if you do that I will personally make sure you die in a couple days, assuming I make it out. Which I might not because you abandoned me!? Naditabirus? rant made Barry?s head hurt. He really wasn?t supposed to be doing any of this crap anyway. Where were the enforcers when you needed them? This woman had to be crazy, but boss liked her for some dumb reason. Maybe he was just trying to off ol? Barry, that was probably it. Not much he could do about that either though. Barry sighed and said ?Fine, fine! I will watch you carefully, but don?t do anything stupid.?

Naditabirus winked at Barry and said ?Don?t worry Steve, I got this covered. He likes to prey on girls and this is probably where he is hiding out. I will recognize him easily, offer him a good time and we will be off on a doom date. That?s when you interrupt and we blast him! Kapow!? Naditabirus smiled and said ?This is going to be cake.? With that, she left Barry behind dumbstruck. ?Is this really her plan?? He wondered, good way to get killed was about all he could figure from it. He wasn?t aware of Naditabirus? immortality, but even with it, it?s doubtful he would approve of the plan, especially if he knew her adversary.

Naditabirus entered the lobby of Hotel Cabana and sat down at the bar. The place was packed, which was both good and bad. It had a casino but the Ripper wouldn?t go there, he doesn?t need to test his luck any more than he has already, no he would be at the bar. She ordered a couple drinks and they arrived quickly. Naditabirus stared at them, she hadn?t had a drop to drink in the past two thousand years. She sighed and swished the glass around. This was wrong, she couldn?t drink it. But her appearances! Nope, she had to.

?Having trouble with it, Nadi?? The Ripper?s voice stabbed Naditabirus in the ear. She could feel his breath on her neck and she cringed. How? No, why? Who? Someone had clearly sold her out. That had to be it, the Ripper didn?t know who she was, he never met her before. The museum incident wasn?t enough for the guy to work with. What the hell was going on? Naditabirus reached her hand in her petticoat and pointed her revolver at her side. She could shoot through herself and hit the Ripper, it worked before.

?Don?t even think about causing a scene.? The Ripper stated carefully. ?I will let you look behind, your bodyguard is already being taken away.? Naditabirus turned her head to the right, but a gloved hand grabbed her neck. ?Ah, ah, the other way.? She turned her head to the left and saw Barry surrounded by at least three guards. He looked nervous and when he tried to make a break for it, they grabbed him and quickly knocked him out with a single punch to the head. Naditabirus sighed. ?No point in not letting me see you face. I have seen it plenty of times.

?I have a knife to your back, dear. Not the one you want though, that one is for special purposes. I?m afraid I have instructions to keep you alive actually. If you cause a scene I will have to murder your friend.? Naditabirus looked at her drink, solemnly and said ?Steve would be willing to die for this.? And grabbed the beer bottle. Before she could do anything with it, Jack grabbed Naditabirus? neck and quickly put her in a sleeper hold. Noticing she was quickly running out of air, Naditabirus made an effort to hit him on the head, but it was futile, she couldn?t put up enough force. Everyone else was focused on other things as Nadi quickly lost what remained of her air. Naditabirus cursed whoever was responsible for this as she lost consciousness. Most of what happened between then and the box was a blur.

 

[TheIronRuler]

'I told you already, Shen, I was only the middle-man. Tut came to me with the offer because he knew I wanted an end, and I came to your master with a proposition. I knew I couldn't leave it there after I die. Anybody could have taken it, old scores could finally be settled, old grudges ended with blood... I couldn't allow the club to disintegrate even after I was dead. I.. I..', he looked up the hill, the funeral beginning to disperse. His strength was seeping out of his, his head felt dizzy and his legs wobbled. His knees buckled under his own weight and he collapsed on the ground.

'He was always a wild card...', Utna looked up at the heavens, the night slowly coming to the skies, '...I really knew nothing. He's probably dead now, isn't he? Tut... stabbed to death by his own knife...'. 'I don't care anymore', the old immortal whispered, 'I'm so tired'.

There were no answers to the questions being asked. Only Tut knew the truth, and Tut was dead.

"An noble intention if nothing else." Screecher admited quietly, nodding. He may indeed have intended to call it quits and leave them, but Screecher was somewhat relieved that whatever he had intended for the knife, Utna had always kept the well-being of the Club somewhere in his plans, even if it meant Screecher would have never had a chance to obtain the knife.
"Well, I suppose that clears up one loose-" Screecher stopped, blinking.

stabbed to death by his own knife...

"...What?" Screecher frowned, a troubled expression crossing her face. "Why would Tut need to be stabbed by the knife? He told us that being reattached to his body would have been more then enough. Never understood that, myself, I always presumed that it was part of some sort of curse..."

His eyes opened wide, his mouth curled into a sickening grin and Utna started laughing the most desperate, maniacal laughter he could muster. 'He burnt the musuem... burnt the evidence... The Prince of Egypt is STILL ALIVE!'.

The day was over, and with it the funeral. Immortals dispersed from the scene, complaining loudly they didn't get to hear of the Immortal-killing weapon.
.
Addis Ababa, a week later

'I'm sorry about everything, Memnon', Tut was standing atop the hill overlooking the city below, the mound of earth at his feet. Trash was littered all around, and he still saw signs of the immortal party that took place. He regretted not being able to participate as well, show them what the real Tut could do.

A figure emerged from behind the tree, walking slowly up the hill. A black man, wearing local attaire and a frown was approaching Tut. He stopped four feet away from the mound, paying his respects to the dead.

'I've heard you're a fucking good actor', Tut was standing next to the hooded figure. He threw the hood back and looked straight at the Egyptian prince. 'Learned it from the best', Anansi smiled at him.

'You brought the shovel?', Tut asked nervously.

'I did-', he produced one from behind his back, '-now it's your turn to dig'. Tut reluctantly took the shovel from Anansi and turned to the grave in front of him.

'Memnon is going to get pissed we made his wait that long down there, I can tell you that', Tut was already digging at the ground below.

'I got him his favorite wine.', Anansi was showing Tut the bottle in his left hand, 'It's not every day you get to cheat death...', Anansi smiled, knowing the irony in his words. They were all together, royalty every one. The King of Lies, The King of Ethiopia and The Prince of Egypt were just getting their own party started.