The Ardent Saga Omnibus Read online

  The Ardent Saga Omnibus

  Nathan Howe

  Derek Howe

  Copyright 2016-2018 by Nathan Howe, Derek Howe

  Cover Artist: Alex

  https://www.deviantart.com/imagesbyalex

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  To my fellow City of Heroes Alum, especially those who played on Protector.

  Contents

  Djinn Park

  Burning Out

  Power Sink

  The Gadget King

  Frozen Aura

  The Stone of Azuria

  The Butcher of Djinn Park

  Proving Grounds

  The Ascension of Natalia

  The Assault of Mechajunks

  Enter Assassin

  Remy’s Aghast

  Haunted Date

  Hacking Djinn Park

  Notes from the Author

  Also by Nathan Howe

  Acknowledgments

  About Nathan Howe

  Djinn Park

  Steve stumbled into the alley, unable to see even his hands in front of himself. The stench of urine lingered in the air. Blood dripped from his lips, and he had yet another broken nose. Tenth time. Struggling to take his next step, he sat down in what he hoped was water. It sent chills up his spine

  “Fuck me,” he sighed as he hit the ground, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the alley. Normally, tattoos covered his arms, but currently, they were mostly bare. “There it is.” He reached towards the cigar tattoo on his forearm and pulled on the tattoo until it came away as a real cigar. Next to where the cigar used to be was a book of matches and he pulled that away too.

  With the matchbook in his hand, he lit up a match and then the cigar. “That hits the spot,” he said as he dragged on the cigar. His body ached from head to toe. New holes riddled his trench coat that matched the color of his jet black, buzz-cut hair. His square face grimaced with each movement. Steve explored his pockets concerned he had lost his healing potion, Ambrosine, in the fight. He found the vial in a front pocket. On the front was the Ambrosine insignia, marking it as the best in Cynosure. Hell, the best in the world. Her potion healed pretty much anything as long as you used it in time. It only worked on Ardents—people with powers or abilities, like Steve. It worked best of all on those in tune with the magical world, and luckily, Steve was. Even with a full vial, healing all Steve's wounds wouldn’t be possible. He had too many.

  With half the cigar smoked, Steve replaced it on his arm for later, along with the matches, and now his tattoo was only a half cigar. He stood up gingerly and covered his torso with the potion. His arms and legs would have to wait. With the cuts closing, he exited the alley. He skirted the edge of Djinn Park, one of the slums in Cynosure. Steve liked the fact that very few heroes ventured this way.

  The street lights flickered as he walked along the desolate street. Cats rummaged through the garbage, and the roar of traffic from one of the many expressways reached over to Djinn Park. Little appeared alive at this time of night, making for an eerie walk. After a short walk he arrived at his tattoo parlor. The lights were off, but that never stopped him from getting a tattoo when he needed one. He banged on the door till the lights came on. A few minutes later the door opened.

  “God dammit, Steve, do you have any clue what time it is?” Jack asked groggily. Despite the hour he still appeared happy to see Steve.

  “Hey, Jack,” Steve said, as he pushed past to get out of the night air. Once inside the tattoo parlor, Steve tore his trench coat off, displaying his bare torso beneath. Not having easy access to his tattoos could be the difference between living and dying. Not too many Ardents in Cynosure, or the world, for that matter, had powers that were magic based. He didn't understand how magic worked, but it allowed him to do things no one else could. To his knowledge, his particular talent was unique in the world.

  “Damn, most of your tattoos are gone,” Jack said, stopping mid-stride. “What happened?”

  “It's been a fucked-up night,” Steve said. The tattoos that covered him were generally useful ones he'd need in a fight.

  Steve made his way to the tattoo chair in the center of the parlor. “I need them back.”

  “Humph,” Jack walked over. “I can't do that many tonight. Your skin's raw and it would take more than one night to do them all right.”

  Wishful thinking to get them all back right away. In most cases, he usually only needed one or two at a time. “I know. Just get the weapons back for me, start with the swords, then the Sig Sauer and clips.”

  Jack nodded. “What the hell happened?”

  “It's a long story.”

  “Humor me,” Jack said. “I like to listen to your tales as I work.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Not all of them are exciting.”

  Jack went to work preparing the equipment. “With this much damage, I'm sure this one is.”

  Steve nodded. “It started a couple nights ago...”

  I stood in my rundown office practicing with the swords, a normal routine of mine when not working a case. I had the station set up in the rear of the office so that I wouldn't damage my desk. The door opened, and a hero walked in. I didn't recognize this one—must be a fresh face right out of their training program downtown. Definitely a hero, spandex armored, blue and white uniform and all. Dark skinned with a square jaw and short black hair. He carried a bow and a quiver full of different arrows on his back. A belt littered with different gadgets hung from his waist. I had done my best to avoid the other Ardents in the city, especially the Hero Coalition members. When I was younger, I went into the training, and realized immediately being a hero wasn't for me and left and formed my private investigation firm.

  “I think you're lost,” I said, replacing the sword on my back.

  The hero's eyes widened as the blade disappeared from my hand and appeared on my back. “Wow,” he said. “That's so cool. Do your powers only work on tattoos?”

  “No. Any picture or drawing. But I can't create living things. Inanimate objects only.”

  “Sweet.”

  I shrugged. “Look, kid. I don't know why you're here, but I'm not interested in joining your group.”

  The young hero stepped forward and held out his hand. “I'm Heldonhaft,” he said. I shook it. “And I'm not here to recruit you, I’m here to hire you.”

  I shook my head and pursed my lips. He had caught me completely off guard. In all my years working here, the Hero Coalition had never tried just to hire me. They’d asked me to join. Even asked for my advice on the mystical and such, not that I could really help. Just because my powers are magic based doesn't mean I know the ins and outs. I know more than the average person, which wasn't saying much, but I almost never gave them any help.

  “You what?” I asked still uncertain of what he wanted.

  “I said I want to hire you, Mr. Reese.” So I wasn't hearing things. “I tried to get Inflamed to send more heroes, but they don't want to come to Djinn Park.”

  “Begs the question, what are you doing here and why do you care?”

  We sat down at my dingy little desk off to the left side of my office. I rarely used the desk. I got the cheapest one and just let it collect dust. I quickly swiped the top to remove the layer of dust. Best to not let it appear totally unused. I reached down to the bottom drawer of the desk and pulled out a bottle and a glass. I decided to save the one on my leg for later, and possibly find a better spot for it. I poured
the drink and took a sip.

  “I grew up in Djinn Park,” Heldonhaft said. With so few Ardents in the area, I should have heard of this kid. “I'm the first in my family to have any powers, and I didn't want to be like the rest who leave as soon as they can. I wanted to make a difference here. To change Djinn Park.”

  “Noble of you, but still doesn't answer why you want to hire me.” It's not that I didn't want to help the kid. But if he was asking me, it couldn't have been good.

  Heldonhaft shifted in his chair. Admittedly it wasn't the most comfortable thing. I’d picked it up at a thrift store a couple months back for a few dollars. “I still live here. The stuff that is happening is harming my friends and family. And the people here need protecting like the rest of the city does, like the rest of the country does. But since the area is full of poor people and a handful of Ardents who are evil. the Coalition ignores it. Like it's okay. Well, it's not.”

  “You're right, kid, it's not. But I'm one guy. I do my part. But I'm not sure I'll be able to help you save an entire district.”

  “It's not like I'm asking you to save Diablo Island.”

  “That would take a bloody miracle. But then so would saving Djinn Park.”

  “I don't want you to fight all the evil in Djinn Park. Just one. At least, I think it's one.”

  “Go on.” I leaned forward in my chair pushing my drink to the side, leaning my elbows on my desk, pulling the cigar tattoo and matches off my forearms.

  “I'm certain an Ardent is messing around with the Netherworld. There have been strange sightings going on. Weird reports keep coming into our office from the park. None of the heroes wanted to check it out, so I did. I haven't been able to prove any of it. But the people are scared here, more so than normal.”

  “The Faith of the Withering?” I asked. The Withering was the main reason Djinn Park was so bad with their worshipping of a long-dead evil Ardent. It had led to even more crime. People were scared of things they didn't understand.

  Heldonhaft shook his head. “No. I looked into them. It could be something similar, though. Not part of the main group, at least.”

  “Okay. Complicates things.”

  I leant back, puffing on my cigar. He was right that Djinn Park had had an uptake in weird people lately. I hadn't thought about the Netherworld. Not part of the magic I dealt with often. In fact, no one did, unless you wanted to kill people. Well, outside of the hero, Chilling, who somehow had access to the Netherworld without it driving him crazy. Every other person I'd heard of who dabbled with the Netherworld went mad. Though that is a small sample, maybe there were others who had been successful without going ape-shit crazy.

  “So you come to me. What makes you think I can help you?” I stared deep into his eyes. “That I know anything about dark magic.”

  “You're the only person who knows anything about magic—who isn't an evil prick trying to kill people—who will even set foot in Djinn Park. It's you or nothing.”

  The kid had a point. “Fine. I'll look into it, kid.”

  “Really? Thank you. What can I do?”

  “Nothing, kid. I got this. You go back and do your little hero stuff.”

  Jack paused. He had almost finished the first sword on the right side of Steve's back and shoulder. “You actually agreed to work for the kid? That's not your usual stance with the heroes.”

  Steve grunted. Every time he would get a new tattoo, the process would bring pain. He never thought about pain before or after the tattoo, only while getting one. The loud buzz of the needle as it pierced the skin. Its sneering at first, but then the skin becoming a little numb. After this many times visiting Jack, Steve should really have remembered the pain, but he blocked it out every time. The shock of how bad the pain was each time surprised Steve.

  “I know,” Steve said. “But the kid was right. Stuff's happening around here. Crazy shit.”

  “Bad stuff is always happening here.” Jack put the needle back against Steve’s skin to finish the sword. The needle was stinging as it entered Steve's shoulder. He curled his lips.

  “That, my friend, is precisely why I agreed to help.”

  “You never cared before.”

  “True. But it's time. If the Hero Coalition is going to sit idle while my home is being overrun, then I should do something. I have the ability.”

  Jack continued with the intricate details of the sword. “I'm glad. I like Djinn Park. We both grew up here. It's an interesting place to live.”

  “Once you get past the filth, The Withering, and the scum that surrounds us.”

  Jack laughed.

  I sat alone at my desk trying to come up with a plan of attack. The kid hadn't given me much to work with. I had already seen the signs with my own eyes. Part of me hoped he was wrong, and the problem didn't have anything to do with the Netherworld. The last time I'd dealt with a person who went crazy from contact with the Netherworld I nearly lost an arm. I didn't want to make the same mistakes this time. The crazy lady sent a zombie from the Netherworld at me. I still lose myself every time I smell rotten eggs. Takes me back to zombies, the bringers of death.

  It took me a while to figure out what should be done. I needed to gather information. I exited my office. The building wasn't much, but it fit in the neighborhood—which meant it had boarded up windows and a leaky roof.

  The sun set on Cynosure as I walked down the street. Prime time for the craziness I was searching for. Djinn Park was a narrow district in Cynosure, west of the Warehouse one, which was packed full of people living on top of each other worse than Downtown. They were poor and living in fear. Not just from the ruffians that ran this part of the city, but fear of not knowing when the next meal would come or where they would sleep that night.

  The park sat in the center of the district. You could cross Djinn Park with a ten-minute walk if you dared. Most of the time, you'd end up a victim of a mugging at best, so most of the residents avoided the park at all cost. Only those looking for trouble or The Withering ventured into it.

  So that's where I headed. The trees cast ominous shadows from the few lights that still worked. I kept alert for any sign that the Netherworld was involved. Some are easy to spot: zombies, ghouls, misty creatures in general. Other times it was more subtle.

  I stalked the park, slowly keeping my eyes peeled for evidence. Every howl of the wind or sudden movement kept me reaching back for my swords. Voices carried over to me from time to time, mostly drug deals going down. I ignored them—a Cynosure Police problem, not mine.

  I was about to give up when I heard people speaking. Although it sounded like they were conversing in gibberish, I recognized it. This happened to people who were under the mind control of people in touch with the Netherworld: it made them blabbering fools. One of the many things that perplexed me about the Netherworld.

  The next step now was to figure out who had done this to them. Soon we’d undoubtedly have the other craziness, the random sightings of tentacles sprouting from the ground, and the zombies.

  The two men had evidently been under the control of a Netherworld user for a while. This type of control was different from the normal mind control of a person who had psionic abilities. People with psionic abilities had a more precise control and didn't rely on fear, well not normally. In turn, they didn't leave their subjects bumbling fools. I kept a safe distance behind them as they meandered through the park. They got lost a few times, making for an interesting trek.

  Once on the other side of the park, at the far eastern edge of Djinn Park, they stopped at a dilapidated house. It was the only house with light still emulating from it. I snuck around to the side to peer in through one of the windows.

  The brainless thugs walked into a kitchen the size of a thimble. They half-filled the room. A tall, lanky woman stood in front of them. She oozed Netherworld magic. I could see the tentacles surrounding her, in a foggy mist that most would miss. Netherworld magic consumed her and the house. Soon the darkness would spread to the rest of
the neighborhood. Something needed to be done before she lost complete control and infected everyone.

  No wonder strange stuff was happening. She had opened a connection to the Netherworld and had just left it open. If she weren't completely insane already, she would be soon.

  I waited patiently while she talked to the thugs. It was difficult to understand most of the conversation, a language of its own. It sounded like there was more than one person here using the Netherworld. That wasn't good. If that was true and the rest were as stupid as this lady, we'd be swallowed up.

  The thugs left the room, and then the house. Good. I didn't want to kill them. They didn't have a choice in the matter. But this lady did. She had voluntarily opened a connection to a dark and dangerous place. She deserved to feel a blade pierce her heart.

  I did a quick look around the rest of the house but didn't see anyone. Then I went to the back door and kicked it open.

  “Who's there?” The lady turned to me. “Get out of my house!”

  “I can't. Your actions are dangerous. You need to be stopped.”

  She tilted her head to the right. Darkness littered her eyes. The Netherworld seeped from every pore. It wouldn't be long before she opened a portal and let more Netherworld sickness in. “You think I'm dangerous?”

  “I do. You're messing around with magic you don't understand.”

  “Please,” she hissed. “We understand. My colleagues will find it.”

  “Find what?”

  She didn't answer. Instead, she sent a burst of dark matter at me. I lunged to the left, pulling a sword from my back. I rolled forward, stopping in front of her. Plunging the weapon into her stomach and up through her midsection, blood spewed from the wound. I removed the sword and finished her off by slicing her throat. She crumpled to the floor and lay there gurgling as her life drained from her.