A giant ship loomed over the crashing abyss of darkened stormy waters beneath. It was a merciless storm, it had been raging for three days now, endlessly slashing and crashing. The waves would slap against one side and then as the ship would rise, a second blow would fall and then a third. Sometimes it was hit on the left side, hard and fast then suddenly a blow from the right would knock it reeling to the other side again. Those on board would have felt like a ping pong ball in a very heated match. The cargo ship, dubiously named The Maiden, in no small part due to sarcasm had for the best part endured these treacherous sea's, all of it's cargo on the other hand had not been so lucky.
When she had set sail, The Maiden had over one hundred different pieces of cargo above deck and she carried far more precious things below in her vast hull. Inside the hull, the oddments and valuables concealed within had escaped any of the harm from the raging elements outside, above deck, that was a completely different story now. Off the hundred or so items, many ranging from full scale cargo container's, an expensive super car, a statue of a Greek goddess standing in nothing but her skin to pallets of wood and sheet metal, the storm had already claimed the statue and the car within the first day. They had all be strapped and belted down but the wind had found a way to rip that apart. They had tied and bolted down what hadn't blown away on the first day.
The second day, they lost the pallets of wood and sheet metal that was set for the construction industry off their final destination. They had been triple strapped down but a giant tidal wave washed over the ship and when all the water had cleared there was an empty space where they had once been. They bolted and tied all that remained that same day. On the third day they lost 5 separate cargo container's. The container's in question hadn't been bolted or tied down, for the soul reason that they weighed tonne's on their own account, loaded with supplies off every variety. Waves ripped across the deck, pushing the left side off the ship to the point of hitting the eerie blackness below, the cargo container's only needed that last little push from the next smash of waves to topple into the darkness to meet the depths beneath.
The crew never came back above deck after this, nothing on top was worth risking your life for. The main deck was at it's most empty now, anything and everything had moved position since it was first placed on board. What was on the left hand side could now be found on the right and vice versa. In the scramble to save things, order was no longer a problem and speed was off the essence. From all the confusion and chaos no one had noticed that underneath one of the cargo containers that had fallen into the sea, a lonely crate had been suddenly made visible. It was small, not much taller or wider than your average person. There were odd markings off a distant land all over it and right at the top a deep dark red "X" had been marked across it. It had been bolted to the decks surface and chains connected it to each of the four points it had been anchored to. If that hadn't been enough, there were several separate ropes of varying shapes and even colours that ran round and round in interlocking patterns to bind it up tight.
The next day, the storm faltered and rapidly brought forth the great blue sky above and in the certain of it shone the sun. It glimmered and glistened off the waves, cheers and shouts of joy rose from the deck as those on board came to the surface to bask in the warming glow of the sun on high above. Favour fortuned those that were both persistent and resilient. The crew on board were so overjoyed to have weathered the storm they paid little or no attention to the missing cargo. It would all be counted and marked off the list when they finally made port, right now they were all to happy to be alive and well. Our little hidden crate made the rest of the voyage undeterred and no worse for wear than when it had began, for you see, one man's story begins with this very box.
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It began in blackness. How long had it been now? It was cramped and stiff, each joint and muscle ached with every single movement. Breathing was a chore off it's own, as the breathe went out of the lung's, it felt like someone was applying pressure right over your ribs, holding a hundred pound weigh and if you wanted to breathe again you had to have the strength to force the next rush of oxygen past this ever growing pressure. When this began it was easy, you breathed in and you breathed out. Now, getting oxygen was like trying to find Hen's Teeth. Touching and scuffing against the surfaces around them, hands shuffled to and fro, groping mindlessly in silence for something beyond. The now boney fingers slithered over the surface like a hungry snake, sliding closer and closer, aiming for a certain mark that had been left behind earlier.
The hands crawled along the grain of the wood with close precision, no movement made was unnecessary and they moved with a subtle conviction and purpose, the smooth finished wood was cold to the touch, it was actually beginning to grow very damp and this made each continued breathe more uncomfortable as the damp seemed to not only get into the joints of the fingers and bones that lay flat pressed against the outer layer but now even the lungs began to feel the strain of trying to sift the water away from the oxygen it needed to power itself and the rest of the body. Everything had to be slowed down, breathing and heart rate especially. There was no food, in darkness there never was. There was no water, at least none not full of sea salt and then there was the worst of all, little air, in truth there was little of anything, especially Hope.
There were line's, just where they should be, clawed into the surface with a rough precision of their own. The hands had etched these lines before, now they slid over the surface off each one. The surface beneath the cracked and bloody fingers was a fine Beech Wood. The nails had tore chunks in the wood but as time passed and each new line had been made the wood seemed to gain more ground and some of the lines closer to the far end had a fine coating of blood were the wood had made it's own mark. In darkness, there were no plaster's for grazed knee's or cut fingers. There were now ten separate different slices in the wood, though there was also three different cuts on the fingers that had made the marks in turn. Three for ten? So far, it would seem the flesh was at least winning for now.
The digit's ran themselves to the end of the ten marks and began to claw into the wood once again, marking the eleventh day within this "cell". Eleven days already, trapped in such a hellishly cramped space it could have been eleven years. This was it own form of torture. Had it have been any normal man, their mind would have snapped and they would have bloodied and beaten themselves to death in a vain attempts to escape. There was no getting out of here till someone came and let you out. You could throw every single ounce of energy inside you at these wooden walls and all you would achieve is broken bones and exhaustion. However there had been no escape attempts made, the only movement made was off the fingers as they slid down to find the scarred wood that marked the count of days that passed since the crate had been first bound up in secret and hidden below a fully loaded cast iron container that would cover this little piece of secret cargo. Or at least, it was supposed to.
It began in darkness again, only this time, instead of the unrelenting emptiness that was there before, there was a new unease. Water leaked all around, it got everywhere and leaked into everything. The audible squelch was as unpleasing to the ear as the cold bite of the water was to the skin. Even wrapped in layers, the water kept seeping through, turning them into nothing but damp rags that sucked up tight to the skin, giving a bone chilling cold to the flesh that felt hung over every muscle, this was not going to be enjoyable. If the water had not been enough, the wind that howled louder and louder for hours on end did nothing but worse the spirit. It is often bad enough to be wet, then imagine being unable to move, then to not be able to breathe freely. Then there was the chill of the wind blowing through every gap it could find, running through your soaking clothes, as if it had the claws of a wolf. Like claws ripping at your skin, each new gust brought it's own bitter giving's. The fingers again reached out and carved one more line into the wood, made easier by the wood now rotting from all the water it had taken on.
The count was now twelve days, isolated in darkness, with nothing to sustain you but your own will to survive. With so little, how would any man survive? The answer to this question can only be found within the heart of those with nothing to lose, nothing to fear and true belief in something bigger.
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A man had laid down in the wooden crate, he had been carried across great oceans and weathered horrendous storms but when the ship had finally reached port and the crate was taken away discreetly by those who had anticipated it's arrival, what crawled out from within that "prison" box looked something awful to behold. His bones sat taught over his bones, every part of his face looked haggard and he wheezed with every breathe, like air just wouldn't go into his lungs. Large black marks had manifested around the whole of his eyes and there was a dullness in his eyes that spoke of a malaise that seemed almost haunting. The man was weak and unable to even stand though after the journey he had, it was a miracle of it's own that he was alive at all, few others could have braved such a trial of both mind and body. Two large men had carried him from the box as he had fallen as soon as he had moved to lift himself from the box. His muscle's had already begun to atrophy and he looked more like a corpse than a human being.
It was several days later that the man named Drake made his appearance. Hidden by those that had carried him from the dock he was put in a rather decrepit and dirty apartment building far out of the way. Here he was placed in a bed that he never left for two days straight. Someone had to forcefully feed him and make him drink. His eye's never once open but on more than one occasion you could see his eyelids flicker as he struggled in his sleep. Tormented by what exactly was hard to tell, his time in the box would of been it's own horror. The third day he woke, got out of bed in the early hours of the morning and disappeared into the crisp cool air and was not seen by those that had brought him out of the crate again. Drake sat atop a building still under construction, the builders had not yet come to start their work but it was this time of day that Drake loved most. The freshness, the cold, the mild darkness, all of this was it's own kind of perfection to him.
He was sitting on the outskirts of Novum Aurora, were he stood now was to be a suburban residential area of those lucky enough and rich enough to afford them. Drake had been rushed here early, there was much to lay in preparation for what was in store. This was to be the "battlefield" of what was to come, all those individuals like Drake and his new friend would gather here, how he knew this or how his new benefactor had gotten the same idea or gut instinct was unclear but there was something about this city, the new life it brought, perhaps the cities innocence and in turn the want to corrupt said innocence could attract those with the power to do these things on both sides of the fence. Drake's mind had already begun to sense the presence of certain individuals already making their move here, even in his delirium he could sense those like him, they all talked and sang and laughed behind his eyes when he closed them.
If he listened close enough he could almost hear what they were saying but more than that he could actually feel them, each person felt different and unique and as they got closer their voice, their face, it all got clearer. Sometimes he could even see their power if they were close enough and he wouldn't even have to have ever met this person in his life. In his sleeping state over the last few days he had noted that one particularly powerful and interesting individual had been making arrangements to move into the very house he sat on the roof off now. A young black man who had once been an Olympic athlete before he went suddenly and unexplainably blind. Drake hadn't figured out his powers yet but he was interesting in that his aura was pure and bright behind his eyes when he could see or feel him. He was here today, early to scope out the area, he was to leave this man a little present for the future when he took up his residence in the near future. He had something to leave here but he couldn't leave it just for anyone to find.
He moved off into the nearby forest, he figured if his target had hidden powers he would use these woods to be alone and use his powers without someone observing him, drake knew first hand, once you had a power you could use at will, there was always the drive to experiment and test what you could or couldn't do. When he had awoken, he had seen that the second item hidden aboard the ship had also made it out successfully, it had been hidden below deck in the jumble off other odd objects and trinkets. It was a dark blackened metal box, it had weird markings on it to clearly differentiate it from anything else, all marked in a blood red colour. If the markings were meant to mean something, it was beyond Drake's comprehension but he wasn't there to ask questions, only to follow a few simple instructions before he was to return to the city to claim his first payment. Drake had carried his metal box with him on his back, it was heavy beyond belief but he had managed it, he was ordered to bring it to this location and open it within the forest. He wasn't told what was in it.
He found a clearing and began to rummage through his freshly pressed clothes that had awaited him by his bed side that morning, inside one pocket was the key for the box. He removed it from his pocket and inserted it into the lock but before he could turn the key, something from within stirred and lashed out in rage, slamming hard against the edge of the box, knocking it from one side onto the other, tearing the grass as it slide down the verge slightly. Drake quickly turned the key, releasing the door and swiftly he bolted into a nearby tree. He watched from on high for a few moments but nothing happened. Drake was beginning to wonder had he imagined the box moving after all but then suddenly a misshapen figured lurched it's way out of it's confinement as the sound of chains shattering echoed off the tree's. Whatever stepped forward was not human, it's shape was bent and hobbled and it's breathe ragged and savage. It paid no attention to Drake and skulked it's way into the woods without a backward glance.
He supposed if he had been anyone else, this would have seem starkly unreal and endless questions would have been abound but not Drake, instead a small, thin sinister smile spread across his lips and he spoke softly to no one in particular.
"Things got a whole lot more interesting in Novum Aurora...."
