This is a work of fiction involving the relationship of two young men (well, late teens to mid twenties), both physical and emotional. If you are made uncomfortable by such subjects as gay sex, magic and the supernatural, then please stop reading now. Likewise, if you are below the age of 18, please stop here as well.
This story uses elements from White Wolf's World of Darkness series of games. Mage: The Ascension, Magadon Pharmaceutical, Verbena, Cult of Ecstasy, The Traditions, The Technocracy, Changeling: the Dreaming and similar elements are copyrighted by White Wolf Game Studio. This work of fiction is not a challenge to existing copyrighted materials, and no profit is gained by it's publication.
Kate Sanders, Aaron Barry, and Stefan are the intellectual property of Don Bassingwaite and White Wolf Fiction. For a more in depth treatment of these characters, and a great read, pick up a copy of SUCH PAIN from Harper Collins.
Constructive criticism is highly appreciated; flamers and hate mail will be ignored. Write me at PaganGamer@yahoo.com with Awakening in the subject heading.
The Awakening
By Liam Barnes
4
Flight
May 23rd, 2002 9:10 a.m. Taraval Police Station, San Francisco
Andrew sat down next to a large power box in front of the station. A mixture of emotions swept through him, each fighting for prominence; Relief at being let off so easily, and without his parents finding out; Fear at what he had almost been caught up into; but most of all hurt. He had felt so much contentment in Marcus' arms. Now, it was nothing but lies, a ruse to use him.
"I cannot say I approve of the condition you left the RD in, Agent Preston."
"I told you, Agent Sanders," replied a gruff voice, "he attempted to escape."
Andrew stood up and walked over to the building's edge, peeking around the corner to see what was going on. He knew that he probably shouldn't be snooping; yet somehow, he felt that it was important that he do so. Next to a black sedan was the F.B.I. agent who had spoken with him, her arms crossed and a slightly irritated expression on her face. Beside her was a tall, brown-haired man in a black suit, his face red as though he had been arguing.
"His condition shows far more than normal trauma than your statement would suggest." Her voice was cold and her expression flat.
The man straightened his posture and smirked contently. "He displayed as much resistance to questioning as he did to being captured."
If possible, Agent Sanders' face became more stone-like. "Zeal in one's job is commendable; however, one should also know just how far to go before one crosses the line."
"I did what I was trained to do, Agent Sanders. If you have a problem with the quality of my work, I suggest you talk to Control about it."
"I assure you, I will."
Andrew listened to the exchange with a little confusion. Where they talking about Marcus? What did she mean by trauma? Something seemed wrong with the whole scenario, although he couldn't place a finger on it. In the back of his mind, a thought or a memory, twisted around, but eluded his grasp.
A metal door swung open next to the agents as two officers came out with a third person between them. It was the same two that had come across Marcus and him that morning, and in their arms was the dark-haired youth. His face was so battered that it was barely recognizable. Andrew felt his stomach clench.
Agent Sanders pulled out a pair of glasses and put them on. Looking over at the two officers, she tapped the sides of the glasses and said, "Thank you, officers. Please place the suspect in the back of the car. I hope that the two of you will be kind enough to forget that this happened?"
The two looked up after setting Marcus in the car and nodded. Their eyes were glassy, as though they were seeing somewhere past Sanders.
The sight of Marcus battered and bruised, one eye nearly swollen closed, filled Andrew's mind. The ache in his stomach and the twisting in the back of his head swelled until he felt that he would explode. A memory of Marcus (though that wasn't his name) came to the forefront; a memory of him standing before Andrew (yet not him either) in a white robe, slowly staining red with blood, his eyes lifeless yet his face peaceful. Just as he thought the strain wouldn't end he suffered a flash of insight. He remembered who he was.
Agent Kate Sanders stared icily at the Iteration X operative, James Preston. Right at that moment she wished the Technocracy allowed its Enlightened operatives to cull the herds, so to speak. He represented just about everything that she disliked in the Union, and strove to get rid of. While she fully supported the order's pogrom to protect the Consensus from dangerous Reality Deviants, she was steadfastly against the brutalization of such. Innocent until proven guilty applied to everyone in her mind; else the Union was no better than those they protected the Masses from.
She had seen the youth, Marcus Uptmor, after sending Mr. Ledescu on his way. She also recognized some of the equipment which Agent Preston had been hastily putting away when she entered the room, and knew that the boy's injuries had been caused by more than just a scuffle. Making a mental note, Kate vowed to place a marker upon Preston's personal file.
She dismissed the two officers, and placed the spectacles into her suit's pocket. Turning towards Agent Preston, she prepared to continue her berating.
The command staggered her, echoing throughout her mind. Preston wasn't much better, as she realized that he was kneeling upon the pavement, clutching his head. Kate reached into her jacket pocket for her cell phone as she looked up in the direction that the command seemed to originate from. She raised her head up just in time to see a wave of pitch-black shadows engulf the alley.
She felt suspended in the darkness, as though freefalling. All sound was muted and only her heartbeat was clear, pounding heavily in her ears. Shifting around, she tried to gain some bearings on her surroundings, yet could find none. Pulling out her cell phone, she hit a short sequence of buttons, attempting to access the New World Order's online resources. She was in the middle of her furtive action when the sound started.
It was faint at first, sounding like a large crowd whose voices where muffled by a thick door. As grew, it became more distinct; more like the hum of engines than the voices of a crowd. It was a sound she often heard in her nightmares. Panicking, she twisted around, holding the phone out like a gun. The noise was closer, the sound of hundreds, or thousands of insect wings filling the dark void.
"No!" she cried out, tears starting to stream down her face. "You're not real! You can't be." The last came out as a sob.
"Did you really believe me gone, Kate?" a vaguely French sounding masculine voice whispered behind her.
She let out a gasp and twisted about. "We bound your soul! Stephan . . ."
"Do not worry about the Angel," the voice whispered nastily. "He shall be the first that I take my revenge upon. After him will be your precious Aaron Barry. You will be the final one. Aaron may have interfered with the Angel's life cycle, but you are the one who made me suffer!"
Crying out in terror filled rage, Kate hit the final button on the phone, which emitted a loud mechanical screech. The humming fled from the noise, and soon the darkness went with it. The sudden lurch in surroundings caused her to fall to the ground, the cell phone clattering across the cement as it fell out of her grasp.
Looking around she saw Agent Preston sitting against the police station wall, his face was bloodless and his hands pressed against his eyes. Trying to gain control over her own emotions, she stood up and took account of what was around her. Immediately she noticed that the sedan was gone, and with it, Marcus Uptmor. "Damn."
Behind her, Agent Preston was starting to stir. The whole scene had to have been a distraction, then. A trick of the RD's allies which caused their fears to come to life so that they could rescue him. It had to be, she insisted to herself.
"What happened?" the other operative asked. His voice sounded weak.
"The Reality Deviant escaped," she stated. "He must have had someone watching him." She reached over to pick up the cell phone and switched it off. "And they took the car."
"We can track it and the RD. I injected a tracker into his bloodstream before he was brought out."
"I'll do it," Kate said flatly. She desperately hoped that what had happened was just a trick, but she couldn't risk it. And she couldn't risk anyone in the Union from digging too deeply into her past affairs if it wasn't. "I want you to follow up on the Magadon lead."
Surprisingly, he didn't argue. Sighing inwardly, Kate called for someone to pick Agent Preston up. Then, getting into her own car, she leaned back and tried to clear her thoughts. She needed to find Stephan, and she need to do it quickly.
May 23rd, 2002 9:35 a.m. Somewhere on Great Highway, San Francisco
Andrew was scared, more so than he had ever been in his life. The last few minutes were a blur. One minute he was listening to the F.B.I. agents arguing, then the next he was driving the black sedan down Great Highway with Marcus sitting in the back seat, beaten to a pulp. Andrew's whole body ached as though he had been exerting himself heavily for several hours, and the fact that his skin had developed a black sheen to it when looked at in the dark was beginning to really unsettle him.
"What happened?" Marcus asked weakly.
"I don't know." Andrew's voice was raspy. He could feel a panic attack coming on.
"What?" The other's brows furrowed.
"I said I don't know!" Andrew shouted. "First I find out you're part of some kind of cult, and that you had kidnapped some girl, then that you were going to do it to me. Then I overheard the F.B.I . . . . the fucking F.B.I.!" A sob interrupted his rant. "Then I saw you, what they had done to you and I freaked! Now we're in this car, and my skin is . . . is shiny, but not like glitter, but shadows or something! Gods, I am in so much fucking trouble!
"What's going on, Marcus? And don't tell me you don't know, because you do!"
"You've Awakened." The effort to say even that much seemed to take a toll on him.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean!" The car wove through traffic, perilously so.
Marcus shifted in the seat. His hands were still in cuffs, and any movement was awkward to attempt. "Look, Andrew, I can explain everything. I promise you that I can, but not now. We need to get out of this car first; they can find us as long as we are in it."
Andrew nodded, wiping his eyes with a hand. Marcus settled back with a sigh. "Go to Golden Gate Park, to the Conservatory of Flowers."
"But it's closed."
"I know," Marcus stated. "I want you to leave me there, and then drop the car off at the other end of the park. I'm going to give you a number to call. Ask for Stefan, and let him know what's going on. He'll help us."
"I don't think I can remember all of this Marcus," Andrew began.
"Write it down and everything will be fine." Marcus tried to meet Andrew's gaze in the rear-view mirror. He winced when he saw how badly he looked, but tried to give the other a reassuring smile. "I know you have no reason to trust me right now, but everything will be fine."
Andrew sniffled, and then nodded. He didn't know why, but he knew he could believe Marcus.
Around fifteen minutes after dropping Marcus off, Andrew returned to the Conservatory. The white frame and glass building stood in the midst of remodeling, its central dome already taken down. Marcus was over by the completed west wing, hiding in the hedges. They had been unable to find a way to remove the handcuffs, and Marcus had clearly stated that they couldn't be easily.
At least his skin didn't seem to shine so much in the shadows now, but the sunlight made his eyes hurt and his skin itch. He had complained about it to Marcus, who called it a paradox; although, Andrew was still hard pressed to understand what was contradictory about what he had said.
Andrew found Marcus leaning against one of the Conservatory's windowed walls. He gave the blonde boy a roguish grin. Well, at least Andrew hoped that was what he was trying to do. He sat down next to Marcus, where the two remained in silence for a few moments.
Finally, Andrew took a steadying breath and said, "So then, what is going on? Are you really part of a cult?"
Marcus gave a raspy laugh. "Direct, I like that. Yes, I am. But it isn't what you might think it is."
"So, what is it?"
The dark headed youth winced. "Maybe it would be easier if we start with what happened to you."
"Why?" Andrew snapped. He turned to face Marcus, and wished he could take it back. "I'm sorry. I'm just really scared and confused."
"I know, babe," the other smiled understandingly. "It happens to us all when we Awaken. Let me try to explain before you ask anymore questions. All right with you?"
Andrew nodded. "Okay."
Marcus took a shaky breath. "Okay. Have you ever felt like there was something more to life than what you see every day? That maybe, the world wasn't quite what school and TV teaches us?"
"Yes," the other responded carefully.
"What if I told you, then, that you were right, that Reality, with a capital "R" was nothing like what you were taught to believe? That in fact it was basically subjective, and able to be altered by the right people, or even if just enough people believe it can be?"
"Before this morning, I would have said you were crazy, or at least thought it."
"And now?"
"I don't know."
"Good. As long as you suspect, you're doing good. It's when you think you know for sure that everything gets screwed up." He gave Andrew a weak smile. "You are one of the few people who are able to alter Reality in a very direct and usually dramatic manner. You are now what many of us refer to as a mage."
"Um, you mean a wizard or witch?"
"Some go by that. It all means the same thing in the end. I personally prefer will-worker, but that is just me."
"Why? Why me? How is it I can do this now, not that I am fully sure that I believe you."
Marcus sighed, and tried to sit up a little straighter. Andrew helped him as best as he could. "Everyone, well, almost everyone has this spiritual . . . fragment that we call an Avatar. Something, usually a traumatic or at least highly moving event, causes this fragment to become active. When this happens, the person gains the ability to manipulate reality like it's clay. We call it the Awakening"
"So, if I want something to happen I can just make it happen?"
Marcus shook his head. "Not that easy, actually. Oh, I'm sure if you really tried hard enough you could pull something off. But, usually you need something to focus your mind, or magic on. A spell, an item, ritual, or some other such. You also have to be careful how you do magick."
"What do you mean?"
"Reality has rules, and it doesn't care who you are or why you are trying to change it. For the most part the masses, or Sleepers, determine what is or is not acceptable. People don't fly or throw fireballs down the street, and lead doesn't change to gold. Common sense rules here, and figure if it was taught to you in school or is held by the general public to be true, then Reality holds to it as well. You, however, can break all of those rules if you have proper training. But there is a price."
"Is that what you meant when you said I had made a paradox?"
"You gained paradox. And yes, that is what I meant. When you stretch reality past `acceptable' limits, reality fights back."
"So what, this paradox is like nature's antibodies or something?"
"Yes," Marcus gave Andrew a meaningful look. "Against us."
"So we shouldn't be doing magick then?"
"I didn't say that. Look, what Reality considers to be `acceptable' depends largely on what the masses believe. Not in full, but enough. It used to be that if a mage stated a spell and gestured right, fire would leap to his command. Nowadays, people would laugh in your face if you tried to do that. So Reality doesn't accept it as well as it used to. You can still do magic by the old ways, most of us do, but you have to work it in small ways.
"Basically stated, there are two major ways to do magick; vulgarly or coincidentally. Easy one first. Coincidental magick is any alterations that can be explained away in the minds of Sleepers; a car breaking down, people healing quickly, hitting the jackpot in Vegas. All things that most people consider likely or possible, even if highly improbable falls under this type. Paradox doesn't bother you much if you do that.
"Sometimes, you don't have time or the means to be subtle, or maybe you just want to impress someone. That's when you have to go vulgar. Vulgar magick is anything you do to alter Reality which can only be explained as magick. That's when paradox really gets you. Cause when you go vulgar, you're breaking Reality like a bull in a china shop."
"Turning lead into gold and the fireball stuff?" Andrew asked.
Marcus nodded and looked at Andrew, trying to gauge how well he was absorbing all of this. "You okay?"
"Yeah, it's just so much to take in." He looked worriedly at Marcus. The dark headed youth was sweating heavily, and he was beginning to look pale. "What about you? You don't look too well."
"I'll live," Marcus tried to smile again, but ended up grimacing instead. "I'll do better when Stefan gets here."
"If you can do all of this stuff, why don't you just heal yourself?"
"Normally, I can do that. I'm not greatly advanced in the ways of Life, but healing is fairly easy. However, these cuffs are made of a material that prevents me from doing so."
"What, are they made of silver?" Andrew asked curiously.
Marcus gave a wheezing laugh. "No, they're Primium. They were made specifically to prevent mages from altering Reality."
"The Feds know people can do this?" the blonde youth asked in amazement.
"I don't know about that," Marcus began. "But those weren't government agents, Andrew. They were mages of a group calling themselves the Technocracy."
"Technocracy?"
Marcus nodded. "Being a mage doesn't change the fact that we are still human. We still have our own beliefs and philosophies. So naturally, we divided into groups. Now this might get real confusing, so just bear with me.
"I am part of a sect of mages called the Traditions. My Tradition is known as the Cult of Ecstasy. In it there are nine groups, each falling along a particular philosophy or belief in how reality functions. During the Middle Ages, many ancient mystic groups were falling under attack by a sect which decided that reason, science and the one true God should rule supreme. The Traditions formed to fight that eventuality. We stood, and still do, for the freedom for humanity to choose how each individual believes, and to fight for the survival of the old ways.
"The other sect was called the Order of Reason, and they too were made up of separate groups. Eventually, they felt that faith was antithetical to their cause, and focused only on reason and science. It was then that they chose to be known as the Technocracy. The Technocracy doesn't want people to have free will, nor do they like the unpredictable elements that mysticism includes. They think it and natural human curiosity places people in too much danger. You see, they wanted to protect humanity from the supernatural, and from itself like a stern loving parent. So began their centuries long campaign to wipe out faith, magic and freedom of choice."
"So everything that the world is now, is because of the two sects fighting for control over Reality?" Andrew asked incredulously.
"Wouldn't that be a boost to the ego?" Marcus attempted a grin. "No, while we have had profound impacts in the way things have developed over the years, there are others out there pulling as many strings as we do. Actually," he began sadly, "the Technocracy has had a profound impact. Many in the Traditions have already declared that we lost any bid for Reality long ago. But it is a double edged sword. The Technocracy are still mages, even if they don't want to admit it to themselves. By limiting humanity so much, they have created a trap for themselves as well. They have lots of super-science toys, yet if the masses don't accept those as possible, neither does Reality."
Marcus sighed. "I'll be happy to tell you more, but I think I need to rest a little."
Andrew nodded, a worried frown tugging at his mouth. He placed a hand on Marcus' thigh and leaned back on the glass wall. A few minutes passed without anything being said, and only the sounds of the park drifting through the air. Finally, Andrew broke the near silence.
"Marcus, can I ask you something?"
"Hmm?"
"Did you kidnap that girl?"
The dark headed youth opened his good eye and looked over at Andrew. "What girl?"
"The Feds . . . I mean, the Technocracy agent told me that you had kidnapped a girl whose father worked for Magadon. She told me that was why you had come after me."
Marcus let out a whoosh of air. "First off," he said carefully, "I have never kidnapped anyone. The girl was Audra Safavi. She had Awakened before we found her, I was just placed in charge of training her. Secondly, it was only coincidence that the two of you had parents working there. Honestly, I was led to you by a dream, and by another mage."
Andrew was quiet for a few moments, and then asked, "Did you sleep with her?"
The question hung in the air. Finally, Marcus answered. "Yes." Marcus looked at Andrew imploringly. "Andrew, let me explain some about my Tradition. The Cult of Ecstasy teaches that we should experience life in every way possible. That by refusing to even try something new is to deny a part of life. It is encouraged to revel in sensations, be they through touch, taste, smelling, sounds or anything else that alters the state of the mind and can lead to enlightenment."
"Is that what you did last night?"
"That was a just a bare taste. You hadn't Awakened yet to experience it quite the way I do."
"So," Andrew began quietly. "Are you gay, or bi?"
Marcus gave a small laugh. "I guess bi, though I strongly prefer guys to girls. Part of the Ecstatic teachings is to let go of one's own limits. Only then can you be truly free. It's not a requisite that Ecstatics use sex as a teaching aid, but for some of us, it is a very effective focus, and one that most people aren't too afraid to try. Certainly easier than doing drugs or piercings."
"I guess I understand, but I don't know if I could do that myself, Marcus."
"No one is going to force you, Andrew. Remember, we believe in free choice, not railroading you into believing the same as us. There are several Traditions that you might find more . . . sympathetic to your own feelings than the Cult."
"Do you like me, and I don't just mean just as a person? I mean do you like me?"
The Ecstatic mage was taken off guard by the suddenness of the question. He could sense the seriousness of it, and tried to speak carefully. "Andrew, I care more deeply for you than you could know, and by all rights more than I probably should. It's like a compulsion or some such. I wish I could explain it better, but even I don't know the answer." He gave an enigmatic smile and said, "It's just one of the many mysteries in life."
That seemed to satisfy Andrew's concerns, at least for now. Marcus relaxed a bit, trying to ease the pain that wracked his body. He mentally repeated a small sutra that his sifu had taught him years ago, to help him embrace pain. Yet as much good as it did, he still was hoping that Stefan would arrive quickly since he was sure that the Technocracy wouldn't be far behind.
<Sorry for the long delay, I have been busy with my own life's mysteries (like finding employment). I know this was a long one, but I felt there was a lot of exposition to go through and get out of the way. I promise that the story will start to pick up in the next chapter. ^_^
I would also like to once again thank everyone for their heartfelt e-mails of support. I really appreciate them all!>