The Button Which Almost Destroyed The World Chapter 5

Chapter 5: His Thoughts

‘I’ve put too many lives in danger. My obsession has gone too far. A saviour? I think not. To be brave can sometimes mean to hide away your cowardice, your weakness. Yes, I admit, I do fear death but why must others die for me? It’s not a pride challenge; it’s not a challenge at all. First she had to die and I had to find a spell. Then responsibility weighed down upon me when I had to save the world… twice. My life had been just hammered, smashed and obliterated so many times that it is no longer a life. It was more like walking waste. The spell did not go as well as I assumed. But I knew it from the very beginning. When something good comes, something bad is lurking at one corner, waiting to pounce on you and tear you apart. Betrayal came into play and chaos leaked all over this planet. Power is what people want but I just want to get through life. I want a normal life where I can grow up and have a family. Dream on, just dream on.’

Remember that France never really won a war once? It was either a tied or lost or won due to the fact some other country aided them. Now remember that game with the Tesla coils and Tesla troopers which could aim and zap targeted objects? Where is this heading? One of the greatest monuments in Paris, France is the Eiffel Tower. It stands 300 metre and weighs 10100 tonnes. Built between 1887 and 1889, the Eiffel Tower was marked the celebration of the French Revolution. That was what the history book says but there is no really proof that is actually a satellite or weapon of mass destruction… until now.

During the year 2016, France initiated a war against all neighbouring country except Germany who supplied their power. Germany signed an agreement with France to get some certain technology but France cannot attack Germany. Germany did not know what the France’s new president was up to but they knew it was no good. Spain was not a target as it was too big and supported by Portugal. Soon, France deployed their plan. The Eiffel tower was charged, and their neighbouring countries, Belgium, Luxembourg, Switzerland, Italy, Monaco and Andorra, were attacked at once. With the MegaTesla coil being France main weapon, nothing could stop them. Soon, France expanded into one of the most powerful country. No longer was there Italy or Switzerland. It was only France.

The ghostly howls of the twirling wings were as scary as the drop below. How high was it was not Dyert’s problem as he knew that even if he fell from a tree he would still die. It was actually the waiting from the fall which would develop thoughts which would rush in your head, which would make you think twice which would create an imagination which would make implant fear into the person. In short terms, waiting causes fear.

He was strapped to his seat with his hands on the belt and the other on the bars. He knew that something bad would happen to this aircraft and it would crash. An incident happened in every location he went so why not here? He was like a walking jinx; a jinx with a time bomb set to explode any minute or hour. Eliot was calm as he probably been in this much danger before and Dylan was normal if that was what a person used to his ethics would say. For Dyert, he was still insane.

“Why are we going to Italy?” Dyert asked. With a mixture of confusion and worry, he was still too blind to see it.

“Do you know Tokyo was called Kyoto once?” Eliot answered with a rhetorical question. Dyert finally knew. How could he be so sightless?

“I get it but why?”

“We’re after someone. Then we’re going to visit Fox.”

“The Challenged Saviour was once called Dark Fox. Are you referring to him?”

Eliot ignored the question. His mind was probably filled with plans and strategies. Like chess, he was planning his next move, fretting over what might happen and what he had not seen. Though, his emotions and expressions showed calmness. As cool as liquid nitrogen. That was the new simile and apparently it was altered from as cool as a cucumber. Why a cucumber? Dyert wondered.

It was silent (apart from the helicopter’s wings) the whole smooth journey. They were going to make a land at Alitalia (Linee Aeree Italiane), the national airline of Italy. Stillness broke in the flying craft as the pilot picked up the communicator and contacted the airline.

“This is Bell 565 requesting landing in Alitalia,” spoke the pilot as he gave the details.

“Request accepted,” the person on the other side replied with an accent. He gave some complex digits which were the latitude, altitude, coordinates and other things Dyert did not know.

When it landed on the helipad, Dyert was relieved. He almost yelled out and jumped in joy but it was not appropriate. It was not the first time Dyert had been in an aircraft but it certainly felt like it all over again. He stepped out of the helicopter and glanced around at the new surrounding. Italy; it was new sight to see. He had been stuck in that old boring country for a while; it made Italy a new exciting place to explore. That was true; Dyert had never been out of the country. He had travelled in country by air but never out. That was why he never had his passport renewed. Which meant that, Dyert suddenly realise as it hit him hard, he might get arrested.

They approached the customs service.

“Passport?” spoke the guard behind the counter.

Dyert gulped.

Eliot flashed out a card and the guard nodded. They continued on. It took Dyert a while to realise before he moved. They passed through the metal detector and carried on.

“What was that?” asked Dyert.

“An official business card in simple terms. I’m too lazy to explain,” said Eliot.

They went out to flag a taxi. What they did not realise was that their taxi came free with bad luck and mass chaos.

As they were exiting the sliding doors and walking to the stand, a black cat passed them by. At the very same time, Eliot turned around as though he heard something.

“Black cat, a sign of bad luck. You believe in that?” commented Dyert.

“No, not really. I believe something bad is going to happen though.”

“How do you know?”

“He sees everything,” answered Dylan in a sort-of spooky voice. He moved his mouth so that the people around them would not notice that he was not talking with his mouth.

“Just a hunch.”

Eliot spoke while he was fidgeting with his mechanical arm. He pressed a few buttons and flicked a few switches. A keyboard popped out from his machine forearm. The citizens and foreigners of Italy around them stared at Eliot in an awkward manner. Some were amazed while others were freaked out. He jabbed a few keys and his arm rang. The phone shot out and he caught it with his right arm.

“Uh huh…” spoke Eliot on the phone, “I just found that out from their database… Yes… I know… Yea… Fine, fine, I think I need to be going now…”

He shut the phone and placed it back. The keyboard disappeared and his arm was back to normal.

“Everyone, listen up. There’s a plane going to crash here any minute. Please evacuate the premises.”

Eliot’s voice boomed across the sheltered outdoor part of the airport. It probably reached the inside too.

“Yes… Run, you petty creature, run!” Dylan said while mimicking the mouth movements.

A few moved away as fast as possible.

“I have a badge,” added Eliot while he waved his badge around.

More moved but not all.

“I’m insane,” Dylan tried to help.

“I have a gun,” continued Eliot while his arm turned into a gun.

More ran with fear but there are still stubborn ones.

Eliot blasted his gun at the sky. The deafening loud gunshot reverberated across the site.

Everyone panicked including the people inside. They drove, rode, ran, dashed or/and wheeled away as fast as possible until left one or two. It was their loss if they did not run but Dyert, Dylan and Eliot tried flagging one of the last cabs. They managed to get one and paid the driver extra to go as fast as possible. The traffic cleared quite quickly and they were on the move.

Taxi cars had a universal design unless it was a grand one. The inside usually had a funny smell unless they used certain air fresheners. However, some were not freshening at all.

A sound is made when air vibrates quickly as a moving object speeds through it. It goes whoosh or something of that sort. Then, it is added with cackling flames as the friction causes it to erupt in flames. Top it off with the pull of gravitational force and it turns into an object dropping from the sky with incredible speed.

They were speeding their way through the road. This driver was expert with manoeuvring along the cars and avoiding the edge. Suddenly, there was a rumble. Dyert’s third time in his life for earth to shake. Dyert spun his head to see behind. He did it so fast, it ached a bit. This tremor was caused by the aeroplane which just crashed at the airport behind them. In slow motion, the tip reached the ground, slammed into it hard and exploded into flames.

“Did your blast cause that plane to crash?” questioned Dyert. He analysed his data and remembered he was warning everyone to leave.

“Never mind,” said Dyert.

The crashed cause the ground to vibrate and it lifted the car half a metre in the air. It was like a rollercoaster ride which was able to endanger the passenger’s life.

“You can slow down now,” directed Eliot as he took out a piece of bread from his android arm. He was talking. It was a chance for Dyert to get answers.

“How did you know about the crash?”

“Instinct...”

“Who was that on the phone?”

“Someone...”

Dyert gave up. Talking to Eliot while he was eating was like talking to a wall. Even some walls could respond back.

Dylan was awfully quiet which was good and bad in a way. Minutes passed and Dyert finally realised that no one had given the location of their cab’s journey. Certain Italian music playing on the radio was not easy on the ears for Dyert. Though, music has evolved so much that some were worst than the genre ‘trash rock’. Techno and Trans was no longer the flavour. It was now Transno, the combination. A soprano killed an audience before and it was not heart attack or headaches. There were still some traditional ones which Dyert preferred.

“I’ll brief you in now,” Eliot said, “Driver, mind winding up the separating window?”

“Sure thing, sir,” the driver replied with his Italian accent.

The window between the passenger seats and front seats was wound up.

“Dylan, cast a sanctuary spell.”

“Sure can do.”

With some swift gestures, Dylan made the room weakly glowed.

“Where should I start?” Eliot asked himself, “Your parents first. Your father was one of the mortals who were like the ambassador to the hidden magical society. When the war started, he had to go down to the magical government to inform them about the war. He enlisted himself in the army to indirectly help the magical leaders and gave them up-to-date info. Your mother on the other hand. I knew who she was. Do you know her name?”

“Claire Mig was her name.”

“Right. It was just a false name. It was an anagram of her real name. Gracie Lim was her real name. She was gone for a long while after Cyrus was killed…”

Dylan mumbled.

“Wasn’t she the hybrid vampire?”
“You really read a lot about this.”

“It’s as interesting as Greek mythology.”

“So where was I?” Eliot asked a rhetorical question, “She was a werepire or were-vampire. Much like dhampir but different. A werepire has the capability of changing from human to vampire or vice versa at will…”

“That’s why I’m not one?” Dyert said a half-question, half-statement.

“Half right. So anyways…”

“Wait… wouldn’t that make her the same age as Dylan since apparently, they were in the same class at one point?”

“If you would kindly let me finish my briefing. As I was saying, she somehow altered her age and married your father. It was either an age spell or time travel but I highly doubt it was time travel. Upon her so-called death, we finally managed to trace her down to you through DNA (Deoxyribonucleic acid) and genes. We used the magical way rather than the scientific way. It was quicker,” he took a deep breath before going on, “My mission was to ensure you and the item in question are save. Apparently that’s why we are…”

The same familiar ring tone was heard once more. It was Eliot’s phone.

“Yes…? Yes… Yes… I’ll come now… Sheesh.”

Eliot shut the phone back into his arm, wound up the glass and asked the driver to stop. They halted at an area with a lot of shops and café. It was a public here were the streets were not actually streets for cars but grey concrete ground for pedestrians. It was beautifully decorated. Trees attractively placed specifically in a pattern. Clean tables placed for the people who wanted to sit outside the café and have their coffee in the breeze. The outlets were opened with welcoming hands. Food stands in the middle where fast food was bought. There were also street shows like ventriloquists, guitarist and magicians.

“Where we heading?”

“The alley,” Eliot replied coolly.

“Hey, you had not finished the briefing,” Dyert remembered.

“There is no need to,” Eliot spoke, “There’s a change of plans.”

“Buongiorno,” greeted an Italian man who passed them.

“People are quite kind here,” commented Eliot.

“Too kind I must add!” Dylan whispered coarsely.

“It’s just you,” stated Eliot, “Should we turn here and walk into that alley?”

“It was the second alley if I recall,” Dylan directed.

They walked around the area for a while, confused and lost. Places like this would give headaches to Eliot and Dylan. Their sense of direction was not too good. Geographically challenged they were. However, in the end, after thirty minutes, they made it. They walked through this wall and they made it in this bar like area. Their trials before this made them walk into a solid bar. Pun intended. (If you, the reader, cannot comprehend that little joke, I, the author will personally slain you in your peaceful and deep slumber.) Dylan, being who he was even though he was much matured (not too sure bout that), purposely hit against the wall twice.

Behind the wall was a cave like surrounding. It was only one room; a room with a lot of tiny glowing holes. Before that room was a winding and dusty passage.

“A wormhole room,” Eliot said before Dyert managed to open his mouth to ask, “Each one of these holes are like portals but they only go to one specific location. They are all named by a letter or two.”

“Ah.” Comprehension flashed across Dyert’s face.

“We need to take the S-hole to get to our designated location.”

Dylan giggled strangely. What was strange to normal human was normal to strange him.

Eliot flicked his finger and muttered the word ‘S’. One of the little shiny holes expanded as wide as the whole brown cavern wall. Unlike the swirling colours of a portal, this one was a swampy mixture of shades of purple which could not dissolve. They stepped through the wormhole and got spat out the other end. Dyert catapulted into the ground as his chin scraped across the concrete ground. He immediately rolled around in his back. The wormhole shot out a silhouette. Dyert hoped it was not who he thought it would be but by judging the mass, it was going to hurt really badly. Obviously it did. Eliot crash-landed on top of Dyert and soon followed by Dylan who did a summersault and landed on his feet.

“Eliot… mind if you get off…” Dyert huffed as Eliot’s metal arm was on his stomach.

“Pardon my apologies,” apologised Eliot.

The both of them got up. Eliot led once more. He led them through a corridor and more winding passages.

“Where are we?” asked Dyert.

“The underground hideout. We’re not really in hiding, it was just that hideout was a proper word for it and he insisted on it.”

Eliot led them into a room which looked similar to a living room. There was a full-wall plasma television, sofa in at the opposite and both adjacent side of the room. In the middle was a diamond glass table with jars of cookies and packets snack food placed on it. Diamond was still one of the strongest compounds but it was no longer rare and valuable. They found a new way of creating it and it did not cost a lot. Thus cause the price dropped like an atomic bomb and crashed and burned. There were stronger compounds now.

Behind the sofa opposite of the television was a row of computers. An Apple for Eliot and the rest were Microsoft. There was someone on the arm chair placed at the corner, beside the sofa. It was those flexible armchairs where a person could lie down on it and he was doing so. The laptop was on his lap but from Dyert’s position, the screen blocked his head. Dyert could only notice the jet-black hair and he had a feeling that he wore spectacles. He was thin too. His hand ran smoothly across the keyboard, typing.

“I see you’ve arrived,” he said with a mysterious tone, “You know Dyert, you should not really follow strangers around.”

He lifted his finger and pointed at Dylan who was standing ‘hidden’ behind Eliot.

“But I saw his arm…”

“Nowadays, you can get that any private hospital,” he spoke behind his laptop. Dyert was speechless.

“Anyways, I presume you know why you are here so I’m going to make my introduction short and sweet,” he grabbed the top of the laptop screen and slowly lowered it until it was closed, “My name is Eugene and the magical and non-magical society now depends on you.”

It was The Challenged Saviour.

‘I remember when I was a kid. I feared a lot of things. I feared the darkness, I feared death, I feared things I do not know and I feared failure. This kid, like most kid, would probably fear as they would not know much. They fear. We all fear. I fear that this kid would make the same mistake as I did. Persistence is my number one enemy. I almost never give up. Revenge comes second. This kid will make a mistake and he will regret it. It is his choice and I leave it up to him. I see potential and fear in him. However, I can’t see the future and what lies ahead, might be horrible.’

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A twist, such a twist indeed. Here the recap/links for the previous chapter:

Chapter 1: After-effects
Chapter 2: Hide-And-Seek
Chapter 3: Plummet
Chapter 4: The Saviour’s Request

I don't really know how long it will be but after I finish with this, I'm going to reedit Seemingly Normal Part One and finish my last poem and find myself a publisher. Big dreams.

The Button Which Almost Destroyed The World Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The Saviour’s Request

Chronixus (plural is Chronixus not Chronixi) was a group of people with an ability to count to the exact millisecond. They were natural stopwatches. How did they come about? A scientific theory was that someone had a special type of obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) which could be passed genetically. It was not the serious cause where one would get many phobias. It was the type where he would count at the precise moment, usually every second. Another myth was that they were given a special gift for worshipping Cronus, God of Time. It was not what they expected but since they believe that he knew what’s best, they went along with it.

These people studied like us but they also have a subject called Communication instead of English language. English was their mother tongue but they had to learn binary codes. Just like Morse code, they could communicate through blinking lights. If the light was on, each second was true or one. If the light was off, each second was false or zero. This coding was very hard unless the person translating had a stopwatch or was very lucky.

End of explanation, back to the action.

He was still standing the middle of the arena, stunned by that stunning move. A punch from Angela woke him up. He flew to the floor. Suddenly he could see her placing her foot on top of his chest. He felt a rumble. It might have been Angela placing extra weight on her foot to bury it further in his chest. He heard something about 20 minutes had passed and that something was about to happen; something to do with shakes. Uh… his mind stammered while he tried to ignore the horrible chest aches. He remembered it was something to do with mud… mud shake? Mud… earth…

Another rumble. Angela stumbled back, letting go of Dyert’s chest and letting Dyert breath once more. Oxygen, travelled through his blood, rushed to his head. His vocabulary and knowledge came back. It was called earthquake, how stupid of him. Blood rushed to the part of his brain where his reflexes were. He got on his knees as quick as he could and awaited the fissure and a blow from Angela. There were no cracks nor was there any blow as Angela was stumbling about. His brain stammered once more. He was thinking. Apparently this earthquake did not affect the audience. Dyert had experienced earthquake yesterday so he should know what to do. In addition, he also had that class on earthquake. He saw an opportunity. He crawled to Angela as fast as his legs could and grabbed her both legs. He pulled and she crashed on the floor. The earth quacked vigorously. The digital timer went on after a few seconds. It showed ten in red. The countdown started. Soon, it was five more, four… Bzzt.

The power went out and on with a flicker. The clock reset to double zeros. She was gone.

“It seems we had a technical…”

The voices just faded as Dyert concentrated. Where had she gone to now? He closed his eyes too. He heard something. He felt something else shaking apart from the earthquake. This earthquake only shook the arena, so what was shaking the audiences too?

The next sequence of events happened fast though it felt slow. The wall crashed and something emerged from the puff of dust. Dyert turned around to look behind him where the collision occurred and saw Angela who was about to sneak and backstab him. The silhouettes were charging towards Angela. Dyert managed to leap at Angela from a squatting position and pushed her aside. The figures slammed into Dyert’s ribs and flew across the arena, into the other side of the wall. The other wall was not demolished but Dyert’s bones probably had. Being wedged between the wall and something that felt like a moving wall was so painful words could hardly describe it. The dust cloud finally deceased. Dyert could see a peek of what they looked like. One of them had a shining arm. His hands shone as the lights reflected on it. The other arm however looked normal. Right night to Dyert was something hairy. Its brownish fur was irritating as its drool. There was something sharp prodding him on his shoulder. But that annoyance was ignored seeing that he was in an uncomfortable position and there was throbbing at most parts of his body. He noticed blood too dripping from his forehead among the sweat. His vision was too hazy to be able to see anything in a far distance. He was hoping it would stop soon. The pain was so excruciating that it turned into numbness. He was too exhausted to think as he used his energy to withstand the pain. He knew he was half-conscious and he used that very last energy to come up with that statement. It finally stopped and he fell on to the ground flimsily. He was bleeding with cuts and bruises. He would be screaming once his receptors came back to him. Right now, it felt like Heaven to him. He felt like he was floating in midair, on a cloud and he could see the white light. In reality though, the white light was the reflection from the person’s arm.

First aid mages came and chanted something which made his hearing came back. Following that was his consciousness, sight and pain receptors. Energy and pain rushed to his head and he screamed for a while. It felt like hours before everything calmed down and he was on his feet weakly.

‘Ugh’ was the clear first word which escaped Dyert’s lips. Smell lingered into his nostrils and the taste of bleed was felt by his tongue. His muscles began to function. He blinked rapidly as he tried to lift his eyelids. The light was glaring for the first time but it dimmed.

“Kid, are you okay?” spoke the stranger with a shiny arm.

Voice, thought Dyert, he needed his voice. With his concentration, he managed to speak non-gibberish with a throaty voice.

“Yeah,” he said. For the first time in this event, he got a clear look at the stranger. He looked like one of those heroes from a movie. Rugged chin with strong flesh-covered arm on the right and an android arm on his left. His chest was big and he had muscles shown at most parts of his limbs. His cloths were tattered though covered with filth and blood. He was overall hairy too, but not as hairy as his prey he barged into. His prey was a brown wolf and the biggest one Dyert had ever seen.

“You…” stammered Dyert.

“Hrm?” hummed the stranger.

“One… Armed… Bandit…” stuttered Dyert. It ended with a cough of blood.

“That’s what I’ve been nicknamed. But you can call me Eliot. You shouldn’t speak anymore.”

Dyert wobbled around dizzily before falling to his knees and the next thing he knew, he was in his bed. Though he was awake the whole time he was being sent home, his brain didn’t recall between speaking to Eliot and awakening in his bedroom. By judging his condition, he was also washed and clothed. His senses told him he was not the only one in the room.

“Nice place you got here,” commented a voice which sounded like the one he had heard before.

“What are you doing here?” asked Dyert drowsily.

Eliot ignored the question and stated, “The second book of Wishworld. I admire Ian’s work.”

“Really? You know Ian Chan?”

“Yeah, I know that kleptomaniac when we were in school.”

“Cool, maybe you could introduce me to him or something…Um… by the way, why are you here?”

“Do you believe in prophesies?”

“A little. Some are quite bogus.”

For some reason, Dyert was not nervous speaking to a legendary person.

“There’s one going on and apparently, you’re involved, according to the Challenged Saviour.”

“Why me?”

“Why a handicapped?” replied Eliot with a question.

“Good one but that’s quite insulting to him.”

“He doesn’t mind.”

A familiar battle song, from a famous game with twenty series, ring tone went off. Eliot’s phone shot out of his mechanical arm and his right arm caught it. He placed it by his ear and began talking.

“I’ll be there,” he said and with that he finished his very quick conversation and left after bidding farewell.

From that day onwards, Dyert’s life was changed.

A week had passed and certain parts of the school had been fixed. Since that school stressed upon the education of the students, the hallway to the stairs to the classroom was fixed and letters were sent telling the students that it is compulsory to return to school. All classes were on except class 10T. Dyert was unfortunately in class 10A and was able to see the reconstruction of the neighbouring class 10T. There were no laboratory classes as the laboratories were not fixed yet and if something goes wrong, a chemical might cause the whole room to disintegrate or the crumbling might cause the chemicals to explode.

Dyert found a note in his new locker too. The main hallway where the lockers were had a big hole which was being patched up. Their lockers were shifted to an area of the school seldom visited. It was named ‘The Bullies Alley’ by the students. This particular part of the school was the back of the school hall and the only time it was filled was during concerts.

The note read, ‘Go to the janitor’s closet and knock on the door and repeat the word “Magic” thrice.’

Maybe lunch, thought Dyert.

It was eight in the morning and class was about to start. He headed for his class and made it in time. Just as he entered, his History teacher was at the door. He scanned his surrounding. He felt something missing. He turned to his right where Justin was sitting and asked him where Freddie was. Justin did not have a clue. Crystine Krystal, Dyert’s seating partner, just took her seat. The seating arrangement went like this: two tables together, in six parallel rows which had four pairs of tables each. They were placed right in front, next to the windows on the right which had the worst scenery. It was blocked by a very shady tree. Directly in front of them was the teacher’s desk.

An introduction of Crystine begins with she was the most popular. Most of the male students who were too mature or normal would droll for her. She was the leader of her big gang of girls. Those type of girls who love fashion and their beauty. They also had comments which stung and their special ‘confusing boys’ technique. They wouldn’t let a gossip or rumour escape their grasp and they were the number one spreaders. This kind of specimen exists in all types of school.

History was boring and so was the rest of the day in school. The only thing that happened was work and study and sleep between work and study. Dyert was glad it was lunch as his curiosity could no longer contain. The question ‘who sent this letter?’ could easily be answer but why? What is this prophecy all about? His queries would probably be solved with more enigmas. That door could either shorten his life or let him leave for another day.

He followed the piece of paper. Due to the past injuries, he had to half-hobble his was to get anywhere. He passed the cross junction but took a peek at the construction on the way. There were workers slaving at the hole. Some were using the traditional methods, with hammers and other equipments. There were some who were just flicking their hands and magic did all their work. Dyert continued his way to the hallway where he stopped between two doors. He turned left and obeyed the paper. The door automatically swung open jerkily. It was a dark tunnel with a bright source of light at the end. He slowly surveyed his surroundings in case anyone saw him and entered. Not even his group of friends knew he was.

Once the door closed, he was pulled in by the light. Like a hypnotised zombie, he followed the light. He finally stepped out, daringly, into the room. It was velvet red as far as the eyes can see. However, most of the carpeting and wallpaper were tattered. Bloodstains were hard to see as they blend in with the surroundings but it could spot. There was what used to be an oblong table in the centre and bookshelves with pages flooded around it at one corner.

There were two people in the room at the current moment. They both look like they were brothers or closely related. One of them was Eliot; the other was someone who looked vaguely familiar as if he was in a book once.

“There he is. What’s your name, kid?” asked Eliot. All this while, Dyert didn’t realise Eliot didn’t know his know name. Though, how did Eliot know that I was the one prophesied? Dyert thought.

“Dyert Xavier,” he replied.

“Ah, yes, you’re the kid whose parents were killed in the flames. Anyways, this is my dear brother…”

“Dylan…” continued Dyert, “From what I’ve read, it was stated that he was never heard off.”

“Technically speaking, I agree with the inks. However, he was not gone, just… never heard off as quoted. He uses his magical powers to talk.”

With a flick of Dylan’s hand, sound ‘materialized’ in the surrounding. Without Dylan’s mouth moving, it spoke, “It lies! They lie!”

“But… um… wasn’t he evil at one point of time.”

“Ah, good times,” Dylan ‘spoke’ once more, “I was merely misunderstood.”

“Which concludes him almost killing us,” added Eliot as he offered Dyert a seat. Dyert approached one of the well-assembled chairs and dusted away the splinters before taking his seat. Both Eliot and Dylan were seated.

“No matter, there’s an enormous dilemma which about to happen and both good and evil have to put aside their differences to solve it,” explained Eliot.

“It’s a neutral problem,” Dylan helped. Dyert listened attentively at this intriguing piece of news.

“And what am I to do? I was almost crushed by the girl in that competition you intruded.”

“Do you know your parents well enough, hmm?” questioned Dylan with some exaggerated actions and tones.

“My father was in the army and my mother worked at the cash register,” answered Dyert.

“Anything particularly unusual?”

“Um… not that I recall.”

“That’s where you are wrong!” screamed Dylan’s voice.

“I don’t get it.”

“Do you know why you were adopted so quickly and why you have that stalker on your hands?”

“It’s the button,” Eliot answered Dylan’s question, “Which kind of remind me, Dylan, we need a portal to Dyert’s house now.”

Dyert wanted to ask question but the words wouldn’t come out and they were in a bit of hurry and confusion. Both siblings were arguing about the pros and cons of the portal before Dylan finally conjured one. It was a swirling pool of colours floating vertically in midair. It was quite indescribable as it was magic. It was an actually a rip in the fabric of reality which shortens the distance between two destination. The flaws were getting caught in middle, disarranged body parts and having the portal closed on one limb. That had happened to Dylan once. His had his hand gone but he had replaced it with someone’s. At that period of time, he was working aside Cyrus.

They stepped in the gateway and appeared, in haziness on the other side, which was Dyert’s room. There was someone else there though. Before Dyert could get a clear look, Eliot dashed over to him and held the anonymous’ neck in the air with his robotic arm.

“Wait,” called Dyert. He gave a quick once-over to the guest and discovered it was unconscious Freddy.

“That’s my friend,” he stated immediately after his scan before any harm could be done to Freddy.

“Why’s he here then?” asked Eliot.

“I don’t know. He wasn’t on the bus or at school, that’s for sure.”

Freddy woozily regained consciousness and woke up in an uncomfortable position with fear in his eyes.

“Calm down, we just need answers,” said Eliot smoothly.

“Dyert… who are these people? Why am I here?” spluttered Freddie.

“There’s something going on and it apparently involved me,” replied Dyert.

“It’s gone!” gasped Dylan as his voice suddenly burst out.

“Are you referring to that item?” inquired Eliot.

“What item?” asked Dyert.

Eliot ignored the question and asked Dyert another. “What is the brand of that precious button of yours?”

“Yalti, why…” Dyert hesitated, “Do you think that lunatic stole it?”
“No, but we’re going to Italy,” exclaimed Dylan.

Freddy was silenced by the confusion.

“Dylan, I need another portal,” requested Eliot.

“You know that thing about not being able to do portal spells after an hour or so…” replied Dylan.

“I’ll get the chauffeur.” Dyert went over to the intercom and beeped for his butler.

“Did you fail your Geography paper or something?”

“Nope,” he turned to his intercom and spoke, “Ask Mr. Thomas to get the 565.”

“Do you know where Italy is?”

“Not really.”

“You do know that Italy is in Europe right?”

“That I know.”

There was a soft fluttering sound from that was coming through the roof. It sounded as if it was descending. The rush of the wind could almost deafen you. Eliot’s dog-ears immediately recognised that familiar sound.

“Where’s the helipad?” he asked. Dyert’s grin last only a few minutes before he realised he was dead when his parents found out. Furthermore, he would be riding in it with a famous hero and an ex-infamous villain.

“It’s at the back. There’s only a big square concrete ground marked ‘X’ to indicate,” explained Dyert gloomily.

“So what do we do with my friend?” asked Dyert. They shrugged. Freddy was frozen stiff, stoned in the middle of them three, babbling insanely.

“He’s your friend,” spoke Dylan.

“It’s safer we leave him here unless he wants to come,” Eliot paused for a reply, “I’ll take that as a no.”

Dyert once again pressed the intercom and asked his butler to escort Freddie out.

The three people exited the room. Dyert was a quite slow as the after-effects of magical healing was exhaustion and he had not really fully recovered. Bruises still hurt and probably a bone or two. He almost fell twice on the way to the landed helicopter.

“Now you’re on an adventure, there’s no turning back. If you do, you’ll be dead. If you don’t, there’s still a possibility of dying.”

Eliot’s words of encouragement as they stepped on the helicopter. For some reason, the fear of height had suddenly developed in Dyert and he started to remember that dying was not a good thing. Life was short. Dyert’s was going to be shorter.

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Here it is. Sorry for the looong delay. I was having inspirations for poetry and if you read my last post, I have 2 more poems to go. Here's another 3000 words of tortu... chapter.

Hidden Messages

Chapter 4 of The Button Which Almost Destroyed The World would be up soon.

and here's my 98th poem. 2 more to go.

Easter Egg Inside

Waiting here for a train,
Under the showering rain,
And I hear a particular yell,
It is something, I can tell.

An illusion, I figure, only,
But with the pour, I can see barely,
This really made my evening,
I wish there is something.

But now I guess it is okay,
To forget I think I may,
Eventually so ergo,
To wait for the year of octo,

I know I am not nocturnal,
I have wait for almost eternal,
Finally the sound dies,
A train in front of my eyes.

And I transport away,
But I still remember the day.