Julius Thiel
Julius squatted in one corner of the barren cell, his vulnerable naked skin chafing against the hard concrete. The guard, a massive man with a nose that had been broken so many times it looked like a beet, stood garbed in clothing that had been covered in enough sigil's to render untouchable.
"cou- Could I have a book? To.. Pass the time?" That quavering beg. He hated himself for it.
"No."
Of course not. Nothing that hadn't been warded and cross warded until he couldn't touch them with his spells was let in here. And the guard would beat him if he tried to summon mist. He had found that out the hard way. He was trapped.
Julius forced all of his fear and anger into a single hissing curse that turned into a wheezing cough. His now pallid legs trembled, and he shot one arm up to steady himself and keep his balance. When the back of his knuckles bloodied themselves against the rough walls, he gasped, and slipped, dropping his tailbone brusquely on the cell's floor, legs splaying out. Pain arced its way up his body, and he let out another hissed wheeze.
The guard looked on passively. Wordlessly.
If Chloe saw me now...
No. That's the thinking of someone who's weak. And though he had been defeated in that townhouse, he wouldn't lose. No. Not to these sheep. These titans, who despite their beauty and strength, let themselves be fettered and led by the ignorant, the lowly and useless.
He had tried to change this, make it right so that those clearly meant to lead would lead, but the Consortium was too set on it's shameful enslavement, and so punished him for speaking against them.
But his words would live on. His deeds. The rightful order of things would be established. Restored.
I hope.
The sound of the heavy door swinging open on oiled hinges pulled the prisoner out of his reverie. Keeping his face a mask of studied apathy, Julius watched with lidded eyes as a man wearing an identical uniform to the guard and a freshly buzzed haircut stepped into the room.
"The boss said he wanted to speak with you. I'll cover until you get back."
The man said in a low murmur, glancing only once at the hunched over prisoner, whose eyes had widened with shock.
"Really?" The first guard said in a low voice that Julius strained to pick up, "I've been on shift for only an hour and a half. Eh. He must want to ask me about a problem with the payroll I've been having. Why he didn't wait until later is beyond me, though. Hate how we can't have anything in here, it makes shit like this a pain in the ass."
"Yeah, I'm new, so I don't have too much experience with this." The man said, keeping his gaze centered on the other guard.
"You'll be fine. Just remember what they told you in briefing. I'll be right back."
"Okay."
The guard swung the door open again, and stepped out, letting it shut behind him.
"Pieter! What the hell are you doing here!"
Pieter, one of Julius's old confidants with the Thelemic Dawn, broke into an enthusiastic grin that slackened as he looked closer at the bruises on Julius.
"I'm here to break you out. Some of us have been able to regroup from the raid. We can get you out of the country, we think."
Julius rose weakly, trembling.
"No."
Pieter's eyes widened, "What?"
"Look at me. I can barely move, the guard will be back in moments, and we're outnumbered and outgunned. I'm a lost cause. Get out. Remember our cause."
"I.. I can't leave you like this."
A small laugh that came out as a single hoarse bark.
"I don't want you to. I need you to kill me."
Pieter stumbled back, boots clumping against the wall, "Christ. No."
Julius stumbled forwards, grasping the front of Pieter's shirt with his hands, pleading. His voice, however, was cold.
"Listen. I'm a dead man. There's no way for me to get out, and they're going to execute me. I'm going to die no matter what. But I want to die on my own terms. I want to prove that I wouldn't let myself be led by those cowards to my grave. That I'm a mage, and that means I'm strong enough to face death myself."
A small part of Julius wondered, stupidly, why he was having such a hard time seeing Pieter's face. It was only when the hot tears began streaking down his cheek did he realize that he was crying.
"..Okay."
The man pulled up his pant leg, drawing forth a snub nosed revolver. His hands didn't tremble as he flipped it over, presenting the grip to Julius.
The gun was tugged upwards into the air, floating towards Julius as he let out a shaky smile.
"Seems like a shame to not use my gift one last time before it's done, after all this."
Pieter said nothing, but nodded.
Julius took a raggedy breath, and realized that he was perfectly calm again. A stillness had settled over him. He was ready to do what needed to be done.
"Thank you, old friend. I'll.. I'll see you on the other side. In a better place."
Then, with the revolver floating next to his head and his arms at his side, he cocked the gun.
The last thing he heard was a ringing sound.
Six Months Later
The first thing Julius heard was a ringing sound.
Then he felt the wet jacket that was soaking up the water in the puddle he laid in.
Are you supposed to feel damp in heaven?
He was pretty sure you shouldn't be able to have a headache.
Rolling over with a grunt, Julius, opened his eyes, realizing he was in a.. Warehouse?
I don't think I'm in Kansas anymore..
Julius wore what seemed to be expensive dress clothes, and although the jacket was wet, the cotton undershirt and the silk white button-up were dry, as were his fitted black slacks. His Cuban heeled shoes looked like they had just been polished.
Pulling himself up to his feet, he noticed that the bruises he had had were gone. In it's place was a splitting headache.
That's a fair trade-off for still being alive, I figure.
Was he still alive?
If he was, he should probably get out of this soaking jacket.
Tugging off the jacket and letting it drop to the ground, Julius looked around the room he found himself in absentmindedly. His eyes widened when he saw several people standing up near him.
"Uh. He- hello?"
Julius squatted in one corner of the barren cell, his vulnerable naked skin chafing against the hard concrete. The guard, a massive man with a nose that had been broken so many times it looked like a beet, stood garbed in clothing that had been covered in enough sigil's to render untouchable.
"cou- Could I have a book? To.. Pass the time?" That quavering beg. He hated himself for it.
"No."
Of course not. Nothing that hadn't been warded and cross warded until he couldn't touch them with his spells was let in here. And the guard would beat him if he tried to summon mist. He had found that out the hard way. He was trapped.
Julius forced all of his fear and anger into a single hissing curse that turned into a wheezing cough. His now pallid legs trembled, and he shot one arm up to steady himself and keep his balance. When the back of his knuckles bloodied themselves against the rough walls, he gasped, and slipped, dropping his tailbone brusquely on the cell's floor, legs splaying out. Pain arced its way up his body, and he let out another hissed wheeze.
The guard looked on passively. Wordlessly.
If Chloe saw me now...
No. That's the thinking of someone who's weak. And though he had been defeated in that townhouse, he wouldn't lose. No. Not to these sheep. These titans, who despite their beauty and strength, let themselves be fettered and led by the ignorant, the lowly and useless.
He had tried to change this, make it right so that those clearly meant to lead would lead, but the Consortium was too set on it's shameful enslavement, and so punished him for speaking against them.
But his words would live on. His deeds. The rightful order of things would be established. Restored.
I hope.
The sound of the heavy door swinging open on oiled hinges pulled the prisoner out of his reverie. Keeping his face a mask of studied apathy, Julius watched with lidded eyes as a man wearing an identical uniform to the guard and a freshly buzzed haircut stepped into the room.
"The boss said he wanted to speak with you. I'll cover until you get back."
The man said in a low murmur, glancing only once at the hunched over prisoner, whose eyes had widened with shock.
"Really?" The first guard said in a low voice that Julius strained to pick up, "I've been on shift for only an hour and a half. Eh. He must want to ask me about a problem with the payroll I've been having. Why he didn't wait until later is beyond me, though. Hate how we can't have anything in here, it makes shit like this a pain in the ass."
"Yeah, I'm new, so I don't have too much experience with this." The man said, keeping his gaze centered on the other guard.
"You'll be fine. Just remember what they told you in briefing. I'll be right back."
"Okay."
The guard swung the door open again, and stepped out, letting it shut behind him.
"Pieter! What the hell are you doing here!"
Pieter, one of Julius's old confidants with the Thelemic Dawn, broke into an enthusiastic grin that slackened as he looked closer at the bruises on Julius.
"I'm here to break you out. Some of us have been able to regroup from the raid. We can get you out of the country, we think."
Julius rose weakly, trembling.
"No."
Pieter's eyes widened, "What?"
"Look at me. I can barely move, the guard will be back in moments, and we're outnumbered and outgunned. I'm a lost cause. Get out. Remember our cause."
"I.. I can't leave you like this."
A small laugh that came out as a single hoarse bark.
"I don't want you to. I need you to kill me."
Pieter stumbled back, boots clumping against the wall, "Christ. No."
Julius stumbled forwards, grasping the front of Pieter's shirt with his hands, pleading. His voice, however, was cold.
"Listen. I'm a dead man. There's no way for me to get out, and they're going to execute me. I'm going to die no matter what. But I want to die on my own terms. I want to prove that I wouldn't let myself be led by those cowards to my grave. That I'm a mage, and that means I'm strong enough to face death myself."
A small part of Julius wondered, stupidly, why he was having such a hard time seeing Pieter's face. It was only when the hot tears began streaking down his cheek did he realize that he was crying.
"..Okay."
The man pulled up his pant leg, drawing forth a snub nosed revolver. His hands didn't tremble as he flipped it over, presenting the grip to Julius.
The gun was tugged upwards into the air, floating towards Julius as he let out a shaky smile.
"Seems like a shame to not use my gift one last time before it's done, after all this."
Pieter said nothing, but nodded.
Julius took a raggedy breath, and realized that he was perfectly calm again. A stillness had settled over him. He was ready to do what needed to be done.
"Thank you, old friend. I'll.. I'll see you on the other side. In a better place."
Then, with the revolver floating next to his head and his arms at his side, he cocked the gun.
The last thing he heard was a ringing sound.
Six Months Later
The first thing Julius heard was a ringing sound.
Then he felt the wet jacket that was soaking up the water in the puddle he laid in.
Are you supposed to feel damp in heaven?
He was pretty sure you shouldn't be able to have a headache.
Rolling over with a grunt, Julius, opened his eyes, realizing he was in a.. Warehouse?
I don't think I'm in Kansas anymore..
Julius wore what seemed to be expensive dress clothes, and although the jacket was wet, the cotton undershirt and the silk white button-up were dry, as were his fitted black slacks. His Cuban heeled shoes looked like they had just been polished.
Pulling himself up to his feet, he noticed that the bruises he had had were gone. In it's place was a splitting headache.
That's a fair trade-off for still being alive, I figure.
Was he still alive?
If he was, he should probably get out of this soaking jacket.
Tugging off the jacket and letting it drop to the ground, Julius looked around the room he found himself in absentmindedly. His eyes widened when he saw several people standing up near him.
"Uh. He- hello?"