Poison

His prey still hadn't shown his face. Probably still hiding from the last encounter. Fraser knew he was here, he'd seen him once before. However, the trap hadn't been ready and he didn't want to risk losing him again. He was far too valuable to kill and to lose. So he'd have to catch him alive, as difficult as that would be considering his own rage towards the man.

He found the leak. Now, he had to find the backstabber.


“These were the Dark Days, before the Heart Gem was created, before any of the Protectors existed. This was when souls didn't exist and evil ruled over the land. Before the first soul came to existed, named Sabio, the wise one. He rose up from the ashes of a war among the humans that lived there. They lived without any emotion except for hate, no compassion, no hope. Just hatred that festered like a blister on a hot day. Sabio tried to reason with them, but found he could not. This world once use to be one, a large circle of hatred and disgust. Sabio, in his grief, split the world into what we have today with his power. After he did so, he created his island of worship, which we now call Sabion, the island of paradise. He sacrificed his life, creating the Heart Gem. With his last desperate breath, Sabio cursed the stone, saying that only the honored could hold the stone—that only balance would protect this world. For without the evil, the good could never win.

“Before any of this came to pass, he had a daughter, a young girl of the name Eve. She wrote of all of these blessings, scripted them for all future Protectors. A tool to learn from. She became the first Protector. However, she was not the first God. She was the keeper of the stone, and for a great many years, she feared allowing the power to others. However, now with souls that inhabit every human, she discovered that even some souls could be turned into foul beasts. So she choose one hundred people, from the worst thugs to the greatest noblemen. She came to look for the poor and the very rich. She remembered her father's words, and looked for balance. She warned them of both great power and great pain. She told those hundred people that they could die, most likely will die.

“A few backed away from her, but only the brave could survive this test. In the end, only three walked away. We call those three people not cowards, but the wise. They knew to take their power and souls for what they were. The others, they either filled their minds with great power or with great duty. Each stepped forward to touch the beautiful stone. Out of those original one hundred people, only twenty-four came out of it: twenty-four men and women from all parts of the world. I saw it once, my dear Solitura, I saw it with my own eyes, felt the surface of the stone with the palm of my hand. It was a pain so great that I thought I had died.”

“Dad, continue the story,” Sol argued, her green eyes wide as they stared up at her father.

“Sorry,” he said with a slight chuckle. “However, despite the Protectors, there was no God. Eve had no hope, and while she was the keeper of the stone, she could not keep the new Protectors together. That much she knew. While she needed them balanced, they often were all stubborn, or completely different from each other...which often had them at each other's throats. They protected the stone, and they protected the people of the world...or they were supposed to. Some did their job very well. In those Guardians, as they are also called, they discovered the greatness within them that comes with protecting and saving people.

“One day, a young boy stole into the Heart Gem's cave. He leaned forward in complete fascination, and before anyone noticed, he touched the stone. When Eve found him, she thought immediately that the poor boy had died because of his curiosity. Then to her great surprise, he rose up, standing on his feet and looked at her. On hands, marks appeared, long twisted lines starting at his fingertips and curling up around his arms. The lines crossed his chest, and down his back, down his legs. However, there were no lines on his face. This young, twelve-year-old boy was the God she'd been looking for. And, as he proved throughout his life, a very noble God he was. Throughout time, eleven clans emerged from the Protectors. You don't choose you clan...the clan chooses you. Sometimes it runs in the family...other times the clan chooses you.”

Her father held out his arm, flipping it over. “Sol, this is our mark. One day, you might choose to become a Protector is you wish. If you do, this is our mark, Sol. The mark of the Protectors is the symbol of infinity. Our infinity symbol is the sparrow.”

Sol grasped his arm, staring down at the bird. Its body twirled up, its beak starting to curve down, with its tail becoming a ribbon and it was held within the beak of the sparrow. She traced it with her finger.

“It means,” he said, “that you cannot destroy us. We will always rise as long as the stone exists.”

“Dad, where's mommy?” Sol asked.

He stared at her. “Mommy had to leave.”


“Is he going to be okay?” Sol asked.

“I'm sure,” Jazz said. “He's in the healing house, they'll take good care of him. We have to go if you want to catch your memory.”

“His name is Fraser, Jazz.”

Raven rolled her eyes. “Come on, girls, let's go.”

“Someone's feeling feisty,” Jazz said, grinning as he tapped the ten digit code into the bike. The bike roared to life, and he shifted, wrapping his fabric around his head. “Sorry, Darren didn't have any helmets, so drive carefully,” he shouted over the roar of the three engines starting up. “Tragen is across the island, far up north, close to Windor.” He wrapped the fabric around his head tightly, making sure it would allow him to see but he wouldn't be blinded by the sunlight. “Let's rock 'n roll.”


The sun was set when they slid into the large town, and lights snake into street. A few shady people hung out around in corners, with untrimmed beards and tortured eyes. The buildings towered towards the sky, tipping uneasily. Very few places were only one story, but there were several two-story homes. However, unlike many of Zaire's towns, there was a variety of color splashed across the area, from signs to people with painted faces and bright colors. The dust barely stood a chance against violent blue and vomit pink. Crimson red painted across windows, and laced through tubes of neon. Dust tried to hold its ground, but it failed against the laughter and haunted glares of those who inhabit the streets.

A woman leaned against a building, her blouse hanging off of her shoulders. Dark eyes and red lips smiled at Jazz, who cringed against the missing teeth in the woman's mouth. The three of them slowed their bikes, and Jazz scolded at the people around them that eyed the bikes with gleaming eyes and sticky fingers.

“Girls, I'm going to stick around the bikes,” Jazz said, slouching against his bike, the dark gray metal of the bike blending against his dark jeans. He brushed some dust from his short hair. “Come and get me by midnight, don't leave me strand if you can help it.”

“Be careful Jazz,” Sol said, walking away from him. “We'll be back soon.”

Raven shifted her eyes across the town. “Well, I've seen prettier towns.” Stretching her arms off after stripping off the heavy material on her head, she tugged at her jacket. “Let's start at a bar.”

“Raven—,”

“Hey, any smart guy would be at a bar at this time of night. The guy you described, he sounded like a smart one.” She eyed a building, with a neon green sign flashing “Tatty's Bar”. “Real creative name. That place looks nice, let's go there.”

“Nice?”

“Well, awful actually. A good place to start a bar fight.”

“Raven.”

“I was just kidding...”


Fraser scowled into his beer, his head down. Five minutes ago, his prey walked into the bar, full of shit and vigor. Bragging about how he killed the infamous Jack, practically the leader of the Protectors. How he shot him five times, let his body fall lifelessly to the ground. A few men laughed joyfully at his story weaving. How Jack had begged before he'd died, bleeding across the ground.

Fraser's eyes were half-mast, but rage boiled inside of his soul.

“And you know how we knew that they were coming?” the man boasted. “We've got our own little squirrel who let's us know what exactly what is going on with the Protectors.”

“A Protector helping the rebels?” one of his friend asked.

“Well, no. He's a double agent. He's a friend of the Protectors.”

“What's his name?”

“I can't tell you what they call him, but we call him Mole. You know, cause he's a mole for us.”

The door of the bar opened, closing behind whoever had walked in through the door. The noise died down a bit, but then started up again. Must be new comers. Not a whole lot of new people around these parts.

Just give me one thing, Fraser thought. One thing to confirm my suspicions.

“I can tell you one thing though...he's got a nasty scar on his left shoulder. It looked like a shark took a chunk of his shoulder out.”

Jeremy.

He found the mole.


Raven stood in the bar, proud and cocky as a peacock. She tilted her head, her eyes like blades as she strode through the bar like she owned the place. Sol followed a bit more timidly. She didn't want trouble, she just wanted to find Fraser and get out. However, the bar was packed, with women and men swarming around in a mad mob. Everyone was drinking, pouring drinks down their throats. Smoke hung heavily in the air, and Sol waved her hand in front of her face.

She started to look at faces, but she couldn't see him. She walked up behind Raven, and placed her hand on her shoulder.

“Raven, promise me that you won't start a fight,” Sol said, tightening her hand over her shoulder.

Raven rolled her eyes, already with a beer in her hand. “Fine, fine. I promise.”

“Hey, pretty ladies,” said a voice. “Want to come and sit on my lap?”

Sol cringed. “Uh, no thanks.”

“Why, a little thing like you, looks like you could use a little taking care of.” The man who spoke had gray eyes, almost black, that were focused completely on Sol. Another man grabbed at Raven. Raven nearly broke his hand just for attempting it. “Got some feisty girls over here.”

“I could use a little help, if you don't mind,” Sol said, taking a deep breath and calming her irritation.

“Anything, princess.” He smiled. “Really, anything.”

“Do you know a man by the name of Fraser?”

Silence descended upon the bar.


“Do you know a man by the name of Fraser?”

Fuck.

Fraser rolled his eyes skyward.


“Do you know what kind of bar this is, princess?” asked the man, standing up slowly.

Raven whistled. “Well, shit. I should've made you promise to not start a fight.”

Sol just stared at the man, where his fingers grasped her wrist. Annoyance and rage boiled inside of her, but she kept firm control of herself. Sol's control was snapped carefully into place.

“This is a bar for rebels, people who hate the Protectors. Fraser, the one you speak of, he is legendary. A legendary murderer and Protector.”

Her eyes were wide with fury. “Let go of my wrist, before you regret it.”

“Do listen to the girl, Trevor, or you will regret it. She's far more powerful than all of us,” said a recognizable voice. A hand gripped the back of Sol's neck, pulling her from the rebels grip, Fraser bared his teeth in a cruel smile. “She has quite the temper. Trust me, I've faced it multiple times before.”

“Fraser?” she asked.

Raven laughed. “This is good.”


Kida was bored. The boy she met just hours before leaned against the wall next to where she sat. From the fight on people avoided her. She'd cleaned her blade—multiple times. Scrubbed clean her hands that were covered with dust. Both her and the man, who said his name was Jakob, had grown bored of this large town.

“I'm afraid that this town has a far worse reputation than truth,” Kida said with a yawn.

“I'll have to agree.”

There was a brief silence, and a body was thrown through the window past them, tumbling onto the street. The man crumpled on the ground staggered to his feet, staring at the bar that he'd just tumbled out.

“Protectors!” he shouted.

“Fraser,” Kida sighed.