from_the_beast (from_the_beast) wrote in haunted_roads, @ 2008-08-01 00:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | dorian, mikkos, nikolaos |
Week Twelve: Saturday
When: Late Night
Where: Hotel
Who: Nikolaos, Dorian, Mikkos, Guards
What: Demons - Mikkos' Point of View - Narrative
Such hatred. So strong that it could be felt easily through the walls of the hotel they both still lived in, and even simply within the city. Mikkos spent little time within the city however. Most days were spent in trying to clean up a mess not his own, though surely he too had some dirt on his hands. No, he'd not take all the blame, not for his father's treachery. All the talk of family, all the talk of loyalty, and in the end? It was Haimon who proved the traitor. In the end it was Haimon to sell his own blood, to hand them not to their known enemy, but to another.
The enemy, Mikkos had learned, was now Haimon's ally. The old man had been busy. All he needed was Mikkos and Nik to be gone for an extended amount of time to complete his treachery. Mikkos had learned much, though not enough. He knew no amount of evidence would convince Nik that it was not Mikkos' doing, not even Mikkos' choices on the surface, that had swayed Haimon in his treason, but something deeper and darker that belonged to Haimon alone.
And to his enemy. Yes, Haimon's enemy turned ally.
Mikkos hadn't at first believed it. Even now he had trouble in accepting it, but it was true, he knew. The enemy he had known always to hate, the enemy Haimon had spent a lifetime fighting against... Haimon now had joined forces with. And both men, he learned, were doing a bit of house cleaning. The truth had been hard to swallow, especially since it had come not from his own men, but from the enemies. In fact, it was one of the Kreskas' that first told him. But not before Mikkos and he had a vicious fight. Followed of course, by another.
None of it made sense, and in fact, the Kreskas had very little to offer in the way of evidence or rational conviction, but what little he did offer, coupled with what little Mikkos knew on his own family's side... he knew it was likely all too true. Which meant as bad as it now was, it was only going to get worse.
Of course, he had no idea just how bad it really would get.
That did not mean however, that his guard was down. A message from Nik, from his own guard, the same guard that had watched the boy from his childhood. There was no trust in him, no rust now in any of the guard. No trust in anyone. In fact, if Mikkos were a wiser man, he'd have no trust in his son. Logically, rationally, he knew he should have none, but he knew also, that if he could not trust Nik, ill-placed as that might be, then he had in fact, truly lost everything. The truth of the matter though, was he didn't know how much, if any of Haimon's plot, involved Nik, or if the boy truly was as much a pawn in this game as everyone else now seemed to be.
His eyes swept 'round the room. first Nik, then Dorian, then the guards, and then back on Nik expectantly. He had called this meeting after all, there must have been a reason. Wait. Something was off... some guard that did not belong. Too late. A warning, and then the lights came on. Brilliant, enough to cripple the shadow creatures. A shot, Nik's gun bringing one down, and Mikkos quickly became a part of the shadows, fighting within them. The battle waged on, his own guard, all new, hand picked, and made up one hundred percent of old friends, surface demons... better known back in the day, as pirates.
No epic music played, and the battle was anti-climactic, valiantly fought, but unexpected. As much by the the guards who turned on them as by Mikkos and Nikoloas and Dorian. The mutinous guards, acting on higher orders, had not expected any fight. "Retreat" had been sounded more than once, but Mikkos refused. Not without his son. And not without his sister's son. This now was his family. He knew, beyond all doubt, that this now was his only family. And as the order was given, and Mikkos too, fought as Nik did, and Dorian too, the shadows darkened, all went black, and when he came to he was no longer in the basement, no longer in the hotel, or even in the city, but in the stronghold of his friend. The battle had waged on without him. But not long he was told, as when he fell, the others did retreat, dragging his sorry unconscious ass with them. But not before killing as many of the others as they could, and at least attempting to take his son and nephew.
They'd expected his rage however, and when it came, they simply took up another battle. This was as much fun as the salty old pirates had had in all the centuries since their mate had left them.