(07-03-2024, 01:06 AM)Matías Wrote: [ -> ]The mention of the Atharim drew a wry smile to Matias's lips. He had heard whispers of this organization, shadowy figures who hunted those like him, but in the chaos of his homeland, they had been more myth than reality. There were far greater dangers than magical boogeymen. Here, it seemed, they were a real and present danger.
"Your warning about the Atharim is noted," Matias said, his voice terse, professionalism barely contained. "In my experience, those who wield the Power often face threats from many fronts. But to know there is an organized force dedicated to our destruction is... enlightening."
He shifted his position, his posture relaxed but his eyes alert, taking in every detail of Michael's demeanor and surroundings. The mention of monsters caught his attention next, particularly the Ijiraq.
"I have seen many dangers in my homeland," he began, his tone measured. "but they are the evil of mortal men. Yet aberrations, as you call them, are not unknown to me. There are creatures in the wilds of Mexico, things that defy explanation, whose stories are passed down as tall tales to frighten children. The Tlahuelpuchi that sucks the blood of infants, the malevolent sorcerer Nagual who can shift its form from human to animal to hunt its prey. But the Ijiraq... that is new. If even the Ascendancy had trouble with one, it must be formidable indeed. I would be interested to learn more about it, and any other threats you consider significant. These are knowledges that my master will value.”
Matias paused, considering his next words carefully. He had come with his own goals, his own desires, and now was the time to voice them.
"I did not come here to sit in classrooms, as you rightly guessed. My Power is as it is, but it can always be refined, improved. I seek to understand its limits and its potential. Practical knowledge, not just theory. Techniques that have been proven in the field, not just in the safety of a training ground. To fight and defend, especially under duress.”
He leaned forward slightly, his gaze intense. "I want to learn how to wield my Power with precision and efficiency. To understand the nuances that can make the difference in life-and-death situations. And if there are secrets you hold, knowledge that is not freely shared, I am willing to earn it. Power, after all, comes to those who are willing to seek it, and pay its price."
Matias’ expression was unreadable, though that could easily be the mask of one hiding his pain. He had laid his cards on the table, and now it was up to Michael to respond… if he could.
Michael wanted to laugh. He might just like the man after all. Matias was prickly, but he had been sent into a foreign state and met someone who he had faced before as an enemy. Yet the thirst for knowledge was clear, as was his sense of honour. He had been unyielding and downright sullen and spoke now of earning knowledge.
It was very much like the first meetings he had the Nikolai Brandon.
Michael hoped that they could work better than he and Nikolai did, but first thing was first.
"
You will be granted your chance, Matias," he replied calmly. "
As soon as you have settled, I will have a test arranged for you."
He held up a placating hand if the man wanted to protest being tested. "
It would be remiss of me to take you hunting without knowing if you are capable, but if it eases your mind, this test will be dangerous. Our scientists study some of the horrors you have spoken of. You will face one of them alone. Just you and the creature in its cage. I will not intervene unless absolutely necessary, and even then these creatures can do irreparable damage. Does this sound an agreeable start?"
Matias tensed instinctively at Michael’s offer, though he masked it well. A test. Of course. It seemed nothing here would come easily, not even trust. His mind raced, considering the implications—facing one of the horrors he had spoken of, alone, with no intervention unless the situation became truly dire. Michael’s tone was calm, almost too calm, which only made Matias more wary.
But instead of recoiling, Matias squared his shoulders and nodded, stubborn defiance in his expression. He couldn't afford to show fear. He’d dealt with enemies before—enemies far more openly hostile than Michael or even Jay, and perhaps more predictable because of it.
"That’s fair," Matias said, his voice steady but low. "If you need proof of my capabilities, then so be it. I’ll face whatever you put in front of me."
For a moment, he let his gaze linger on Michael, searching for any sign of a trap or hidden mockery, but the man remained unreadable. Matias exhaled slowly through his nose and offered a small, dry smile. "But don’t worry about me. I’’m no stranger to brutality.”
The truth was, he had no idea if he’d survive whatever creature they kept in their labs. But he couldn’t let Michael see his uncertainty—he couldn’t let anyone here see that. His honor and pride demanded he face this head-on, no matter the cost.
“Until then,” Matias continued, his voice regaining some of its usual grit, "I’d like a longer tour of the Garden. I need to see more of this place if I’m going to understand how things work here." His eyes narrowed slightly, betraying his deeper thoughts. "And then, I’ll have a few words with Jay, if you believe he can be controlled.”
He hadn’t forgotten the punch, nor the storm of emotions it had stirred. Confronting Jay was a risk, but Matias wasn’t one to leave things unresolved. There were words that needed to be said, if not blows exchanged again. He didn’t plan on letting that loose end dangle any longer than necessary.
Matias met Michael’s eyes one last time, resolute. "Does that sound agreeable?" he asked, echoing Michael’s own words, though with a hint of challenge woven into his tone. He wasn’t just here to be tested; he was here to prove something—to them, and to himself.
Michael suppressed a sigh, but he was not unsympathetic to Matias's plight. It was the kind of thing he would have done not so long ago where enemies seemed to surround him. A flash of irritation flooded through him at the thought that this may have been how Nikolai felt when they first encountered one another. A most unpleasant thought. However, it passed quickly. That was then, and he had learned much.
"I do not doubt your word," Michael replied, trying to placate the man's prickly nature. "Nor your courage. I would not send any but the Rods of Dominion against some of these monsters, I simply need to know how skilled you are so I do not have to tell the Ascendancy Damien's emissary is dead."
He frowned at the man's last request. "It does not sound agreeable," he said without any anger but his eyes were icy. "That man hates you - or your family. You have made it abundantly clear how dissatisfied you were enough to insult my men and I. I am a patient man, but I do not care how precious you are to Nikolai Brandon or Damien Oakland. I do not care what has happened between you two. I have vulnerable men to take care of, and I will not have any of them endangered - that includes you."
Michael relented. "Tell me why you want to see him, and I may consider it. Despite what you may think, Matias, I am trying to help you. All of you. I had to run and hide for years, hunted for this power which I never asked for and killed men and creatures who look at us as something that needs to be euthanized. I will not see another man go through the same again."
Matias took in Michael’s words, absorbing them in stoic silence. The cold, calculated logic behind them wasn’t lost on him, and he knew Michael was right. This place was dangerous, filled with political and literal threats, and buried in its heart waited a man whose hatred toward him was real, justified even.
He allowed his mind to drift, not out of disrespect, but because of the looming test. The mention of creatures brought a flood of images—flashes of a battle that hadn’t yet come.
He glimpsed horrors of flesh and fury that tore through their prey like wildfire through dry grass. He could almost see the thing now, caged but snarling, frenzied and bloodthirsty, a relentless predator desperate for release.
He saw only flashes. A cage door creaking open. A blur of muscle and teeth lunging at him, its guttural snarl reverberating through the chamber. He pictured the creature’s eyes, distantly human but wild and ravenous, fixating on him, and the sudden, violent clash that would follow.
He saw himself losing—nails tearing into his side, sharp teeth sinking into his throat as the world went black. The image of his own body, lifeless, mangled, discarded on the cold floor like an offering to the gods of death sent a chill down his spine. A hundred ways he might bleed to death, a thousand ways in which his flesh would be consumed raw.
But just as quickly, other visions rose up, unbidden. He imagined standing over the broken creature, his breath ragged and victorious. His skin, his clothes soaked in its blood, his muscles aching from the brutal encounter, but still alive. Still standing.
A slow, grim smile touched the edge of his lips. Yes, he could win. It would be a brutal, desperate fight, but he could win. Whether he would or not, was left to fate.
“I will accept your test,” he said with a flicker of resolve to his eyes, but also a somberness. He turned away from Michael, staring out at the horizon, the weight of it all—this place, this trial, this unfamiliar world—settling heavy on his shoulders.
For a long moment, he just stood there, watching the distant trees sway in the wind. When he spoke, his voice was softer, laced with an age that wasn’t there before.
"Hate..." he began quietly, almost to himself. "He has good reason to hate me."
His hand instinctively moved to the crucifix hidden beneath his shirt, fingers brushing against the cool metal. He thought of his family—the cartel, the blood they had spilled, the violence they had wrought, and his part in it all. His father’s legacy hung around his neck like a noose, always choking, always tightening. He might as well wore it side by side with the body of Christ, damnation and salvation side by side—a coin of fate would decide his eternity. Even Matias did not know what end he would face, but he would bear both destinies if such was his atonement.
And then there was Jay. The punch, the anger in his eyes, the rage that had been simmering between them for what felt like an eternity.
Matias tilted his chin up, meeting Michael’s icy stare with one of his own, but it wasn’t defiant. It wasn’t combative. It was clear, unguarded, full of a quiet self-awareness that he allowed himself to show in that moment.
"I seek to speak with him," Matias explained, his voice steady but carrying an unexpected weight, "to ask his forgiveness... for what my family has done to his.”
He let the words hang in the air, knowing how strange they must sound coming from his lips. He, the son of a violent cartel lord, the emissary of Damien, who cleansed the land of people like him, asking for forgiveness? But it was true. He was torn between the blood that ran in his veins and the guilt that gnawed at his soul every waking hour.
He knew it wouldn’t be easy. He knew Jay might never forgive him. He dared not peek into such futures. The idea that one possible path might lead to friendship was too disturbing to contemplate.
But if he was to find some semblance of peace here—if he was to survive this place, both physically and spiritually—he had to try.
Matias exhaled slowly, his gaze still locked on Michael, searching for any hint of understanding, or at least acceptance.
"That’s why I need to see him. To end this… " He squared himself before Michael, pledging himself in exchange for this opportunity.
"...Let me do this, and once I pass this test of yours, I will share the gift I bring to the Ascendancy…. and you.”
Finally.
A sliver of tension released as Matias relented. He seemed to understand the situation now, although it was indeed true that Jay had complicated the whole process, and through Jay, Michael had to admit responsibility. He had trusted too easily. He had thought that the initial fear he placed in the men and his power was enough that he could begin to ensure loyalty through trust and perhaps even comradery. It appeared he may have been mistaken and the Rods of Dominion required a tighter leash.
Another time.
He was far more interested in the words that came from Matias next. He raised a brow at the admission that Jay had reason to hate him but refrained from any comment. As far as he was concerned what was done was done, and Nikolai had seen fit to judge neither of them as criminals - not that his judgement was overly reassuring.
He was further surprised by the fact that Matias seemed to want...absolution. He thought the man a petulant and reluctant guest, perhaps simply a spy for Damien, however he revealed himself to be more earnest than it appeared and Michael's interest in the man waxed. Humility paired with the conviction he showed in the face of being tested made him someone Michael could see himself aligned with and certainly someone worthy of wielding power.
He cocked his head at the promise of some kind of gift. Normally he would assume it meant the Power, but Matias had just expressed his desire to learn. What he spoke of seemed to be something different. Whatever it was, Michael had already made his decision. "Your words humble me," he admitted in truth. "I will not deny that kind of request."
He held up a hand. "However, Carpenter promised he would restrain himself, and you felt the result of his restraint. I choose to believe you, just as I gave Carpenter the benefit of the doubt, but I am not a fool. You will have your meeting, but it shall be presided over by several of the other Rods of Dominion. Neither of you shall so much as touch the Power or you will be restrained. Should you be sincere in your request, you will have no issue."
Michael looked down at a flashing that appeared on his personal datapad. Dr. Weston, an urgent message. Now that is concerning.
When he looked up, his face was a mask of calm. "Karim will show you around the Garden and set up the meeting with Carpenter. I must excuse myself, if you will forgive me. Matters require my attention. I will see you when the test has been prepared. It will take a few days at most."
He stood, holding a hand out to Matias. It would not do to be rude and he could not reveal how urgent his business was. "Welcome to the Garden."