Facing the Future

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The Brightons’ war room was impressive to say the least. A large, three-dimensional map took up the central space of the room and currently showed a satellite view of Springfield and the surrounding region. Lining the walls of one side of the room were several monitors displaying CCTV footage of locations around the city and was attended to by several members of the Order who seemed to be tapping into phone calls or cracking secure information. The opposite wall was covered in an augmented reality screen, which was live updated with the information they found. Currently displayed were details about Vulpis, including photos, passports, and a number of associates who had also arrived in Springfield.

“The situation is thus,” Lord Brighton began, having gathered John and his troupe, as well as an assortment of high ranking Order members. “At 6:35 PM yesterday, the target arrived in Springfield by plane at Kessler International Airport. Through cross referencing a list of arrivals with Miss Perrault, we know that he has brought a pack at least sixteen heads strong. Since departing Kessler International, the target vanished from surveillance for a period of six hours until he struck at the Newman household, claiming the lives of three of our Knights and abducting a civilian, Brenda Newman, before vanishing once again. We are yet to locate the target, though he is presumed to be hiding somewhere in Springfield or the surrounding region. It is assumed that he will make contact again at midnight tonight, to trade the hostage, Brenda Newman, for Miss Perrault.”

The Brighton patriarch paused and scanned faces of those gathered around the table, making sure each had absorbed the information before continuing. “Our objective is twofold: rescue the captive and execute the target. To do this we first need to locate their hideout…” he said, glancing towards a woman yet to be introduced to John.

The trait that immediately caught John’s attention was her apparent blindness, given the blindfold that wrapped tightly around her head. Still, she was quite a pretty woman, short, but with long blonde hair braided into a single tail, a slender figure, and modestly sized breasts. More than a little curious, John cast Observe to try and glean more information on her.

“Given that when I attempt to locate either the target or his captive I see naught but fog,” the seer spoke softly to the table, “it is likely that some form of anti-divination magic is being used.”

“If he was in the city, he would have surely been detected by now,” Moira stepped forward and gestured to the forest-covered hills that enveloped the city. “He must be hiding out in the surrounding region.

“That is possible,” the seer acknowledged. “The multitude of mana wells dotting the area make divining an exact location difficult.”

“That at least narrows the search though, right?” John questioned. “We only need to comb over the region to find him.”

“Certainly, that is one option available to us,” Lord Brighton agreed. “However, the region is full of Abyssal nooks and traps. To cover the entire area would attract attention, and I caution you to remember that this operation requires a great degree of subtlety, else you put your mother at risk.”

“Right,” John mumbled, casting his eyes downwards again. “Sorry.”

“Chin up, boy,” Lord Brighton replied quickly. “This is no time to cower and apologise. You are new to this, and it is your mother’s life on the line; nobody is judging your desire to get her back safely.”

John nodded but otherwise kept silent and simply stared at the map in front of him, hoping the bright spark of a good idea would leap out at him.

“Father,” Moira spoke up. “Perhaps John’s idea is feasible. After all, we have allies who specialise in hunting and tracking.”

The Lord let out a condescending snort. “Our last meeting went poorly, to put it mildly. They even have the cheek to demand we apologise when it was their negligence that had come into question. I’d hazard a guess that such an obstinate pack of hippies and hooligans won’t lift a finger, let alone an arrow, to help us.”

Moira frowned at her father’s words and shrunk back but, after glancing in John’s direction, seemed to be renewed with determination. “Perhaps they won’t help,” she admitted, “or perhaps now is the time for us to apologise. The fact of the matter is we’re stronger with them than without them; they know the forests better than anybody else and would be a valuable asset to us. Let us swallow our pride and sweep that particular incident under the rug; we have more pressing concerns than petty grudges.”

The seer, Lorelei, nodded in agreement. “The young Warden is correct. The war against evil is best not fought alone, and one must sometimes make concessions to maintain friendships and alliances.”

“Hmm,” Lord Brighton let out, stroking the curl in his ginger mustache. “This is quite unlike you, daughter of mine,” he said. But despite his statement clearly being directed at Moira, his eyes swept over the table and landed firmly on John, as if to accuse him. “But very well, if you believe you can convince those brats to help, you are welcome to try.”

“Thank you, Father,” Moira replied earnestly, before sending a brief smile in John’s direction.

John had no clue who these ‘Hunters’ were, but they sounded like the kind of people that he was in dire need of right now. He was incredibly thankful for the support Moira was showing him and could only admire the tenacity she conveyed; she really seemed to have a sense for how to handle the situation, despite all the pressure. ‘Just goes to show how upbringing molds people, I suppose,’ John thought as he listened attentively while the strategy meeting continued on.

Really, he was beginning to feel woefully out of place. Unlike Red and Saccharine, whose collective knowledge of Vulpis and his pack was abundantly useful, or Moira who had been training for situations like these her whole life, John couldn’t really contribute anything meaningful. He was just a nerd that had thus far simply fumbled around with some powers he’d been given for God only knows why and found himself neck deep in a nightmare he desperately wanted to wake up from.

“Knowledge of the futures can be daunting, and one may wish to cower from it,” Lorelei suddenly proclaimed, much to the puzzlement of those present. Despite not having eyes to speak of, John felt the seer’s gaze bearing meaningfully upon him.

He knew right away what she was referring to. It was true, he would have to live with the knowledge and guilt that he could have prevented this situation if he had just paid more attention to Richard’s damn prophecy.

“But,” the seer continued, “with courage and a dash of wit, one may find he can chart a course from that frightening sight for the better.”

John frowned as he pondered on her words. He had inadequately dealt with the prophecy thus far, that was undeniable. But thinking on it, the only part that had come true so far was Vulpis abducting his Mom. There was still a large portion that was yet to come to fruition.

‘How did it go again? God, it would have been nice if Richard had wrote it down,’ John thought bitterly. ‘Something about words and fate… then that bit about **** which had already happened… followed by something about seeking those confined, and then saying I’ll save a sheep with silver. Well, that last bit has to be about Mom, right? And Kami is forging me those arcane silver blades...‘

It was then that he remembered something, and he grinned as that burst of inspiration he had prayed for got the gears in his head turning. When Richard had recited the prophecy John had felt like he was being mocked, but perhaps the skaven had simply been trying to help.

“John? Is everything alright?” Moira asked him, an expression of concern on her face

“Fuck no,” John laughed self-deprecatingly. “My mom’s been kidnapped by a homicidal werewolf; to say I’m feeling fucked right now would be putting it mildly.