Road to Destruction |Part 1| The Crawford Complex

[Nicholi]

The high noon sun beats down on the wastelands. A lone figure travels across the baron planes, heading for the nearby town. He stands roughly 6 1/2 feet tall and carries a large medical chest on his back. The man is apparently a doctor. He soon arrives at the entrance of the town. Upon entering, he heads for the local tavern. The town itself seems almost abandoned. No one walks along the dusty streets, and most homes are boarded up. The tavern, aptly named The Lone Oasis, seems to be the only place in this town which life thrives. The doctor enters the building. The air smells of cheap liquor and cigarette smoke. Tavern patrons, if you could call them patrons, sat all about the building, gambling and drinking. The man looks around. He notices a man sitting at the bar, who stands out from the rest of the group. The doctor sits down next to the man.

"It's been awhile hasn’t it. In fact, it's been around ten or fifteen years. I'm a bit parched after the trip. Bartender! A glass of cordial if you please."

The bartender fills up a glass and slides it down to the doctor.

"Ah. Much better. Now, on too business. What's the current situation on Neo-Nexus?"

[Hanson Crawford]

*Hanson Crawford sat back in his chair as the new comer sat down. As Hanson ran a hand threw his shaggy mane of brown hair, his miss matched eyes studied the room. In his fine clothing, he stood apart from the other costumers. And he was tired. But finally, things were about to pay off.*

"Geetings, Nicholi. It is a pleasure to meet you in person after such a long corresondence. And as for Neo-Nexus..."

*Hanson shook his head warily.*

"As you already know, I am know longer in control of my company. Rather, the seven members of the Board of Directors are now in control, along with the fellow they have presented the title of president to. One Blaire Whitecloak."

*Hanson said the name with a fair amount of hatred. He once again stared around the room for a moment and took a draught from his glass, iced tea, from the look of it. After a moment he continued.*

"Of course, that is disturbing news in itself, the most powerful company in the world in the hands of those old fools. Not to mention Blaire, a maniac if ever there was one. But if that were the only problems, it wouldn't be so horrible, however.... Felix Amethyst-the Prime Minister, I'm sure you've heard of him"

*There was a brief pause as Hanson smiled*

"Though, you may be the only one on Xenon who has, actually- well, he's doing nothing to aid the government, encouraging people to join a HOPELESS war. Always smiling and saying, 'Yes, we will pull threw!' and 'No, nuclear weapons would prove usless at this point in time.' He cares nothing for the world. He's leading the continent down the bad path. Quickly."

*Hanson looked bitterly around the room.*

"And, the MASS is still trying to destroy the border of the Great Divide, they have completely annihalation all armies on the southern half of the continent and now rule the land completely. The Great Divide is only estimated to hold another decade. If that. Time is running short."

*he paused for a moment, perhaps for dramas sake, and added*

"I hope you have a plan."

[Nicholi]

Nicholi takes another sip of his cordial.

"At the moment we have few options. I disagreeociates are going to meet us at the area known as the Ruined City. It is my belief that we may find something there that will aid us in our venture. We will depart for the area tommorow morning."

Nicholi looks around at the other patrons. He turns back to Hanson.

"Do you by any chance have the prototype of the item we designed?"

[Hanson Crawford]

*Hanson sips his tea, digesting Nicholi's words.*

"The Ruined City. The tales I have heard of it during the last few days have been long and interesting. It will surely be perilous. But, if there's anyplace on this rock that can get me back to my own continent, I'm sure it's there."

*Hanson took a moment to smile*

"And as for the rototype..."

*Hanson reached down and pulled a small package that was lieing at his feet. It was a long object, that had been rapped in cloth. He handed it to Nicholi as one might a religous object.*

"I hope it meets to your approval."

[Nicholi]

"That will be determined once it is put into use."

Nicholi takes the object and places it into a side compartment on the medicine chest. He proceeds to take a drink of his cordial. A patron walks up to Nicholi.

"Hey doc, don't you know that drinkin' s bad for ya."

The man picks up the glass of cordial.

"I'll just take this off your hands..."

Nicholi takes a toothpick and flicks it into the glass. The glass shatters and cuts the hand of the patron.

"You try'n to pick a fight?"

The patron draws a knife. Other patrons rise to their feet and draw various weapons.

"You and yer prissy little friend er are in for et."

The patrons advance towards Nicholi and Hanson. Nicholi rises to his feet. He turns to Hanson.

"Need a weapon Hanson?"

[Hanson Crawford]

*Hanson still sat at his seat, mouth dropped, appearently unable to believe trouble had found him so quickly*

'Tipical,' he thought. 'Just when I start finding a relaxed enviroment and think everything will be ok, a few punks start a drunken brawl. Perfect.'

*Hanson was not well trained in the art of fighting, but he figured defend himself, at the very least, as long as he kept his guard up. And if worse came to worse, he always had.... Hanson glanced at the ring he was wearing on his left hand. It was shaped like a dragon. He smiled keenly.*

'Not just yet, a little longer, and then we'll see how much damage you can reek.' His ring felt like it was burning.

*He pulled a small sword from its sheeth.*

"I think I can handle myself for the moment Nicholi, however, just to be on the safe side," a drunk ruffian jumped at Hanson, who quickly brought the side of his sword across the man's brow. 'YEHHHHHHHHHHHHH!' the man screamed as he fell to the ground. "Watch my back."

[Nicholi]

Nicholi turns to the bartender. He produces a small bag of gold from his jacket pocket.

"Please ready me two kegs of that cordial. I believe you'll find an ample amount of money in that bag. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to tend to this incident."

Nicholi unstraps the large medicine chest from his back. He opens the case and grabs his scythe. Some of the patrons are stunned at the revealing of the "doctor's medicine".

"I have more important things to take care of, so lets make this quick."

Several patrons rush towards Nicholi, barring daggers or handguns. Some of the patrons scream out.

"It's time ter die ya d***ed jerk!"

Nicholi leaps onto a table top and slashes one of the patrons in the back. He falls to the ground with bloody thud. Nicholi jumps back onto the floor.

"Who's next?"

[Hanson Crawford]

*Hanson watched Nicholi with numb feeling. So this is how it was to really fight. To have the fighting spirit engulf you. He felt as though he could kill every man in the bar and not feel guilty.*

'You're growing. If this continues, maybe you'll be the kind of C.E.O. the Board of Directors wanted. The kind that can destroy a small buisness and not think twice. See how much you have o look foreward to!'

*The flat of his sword connected with another man's skull. Hanson grabbed a chair and threw it at another approaching man. It crashed into his chest and he fell over gasping.*

'Now do something immpressive Hanson.' said his subconscience in the voice of Blaire Whitecloak. 'Jump through a hoop. Try juggling glasses, or doing back flips while stabbing those poor, drunk gentlemen. Or maybe, and this is if you're feeling really gutsy, use that ring for something than an ornament.'

*Hanson ignored his subconscious. This was neither the time nor place for a dragon to emerge. The flat of his sword felled another man, and then he slammed the hilt against another man's head. It might terrify the peaceful locals. Hanson saw a slightly fat, bearded man in the corner who's eyes were like dinner plates and gasping as the thugs passed him.*

'Bullies,' thought Hanson. 'That's all you guys are. Just like the Board, the MASS, and that jerk Felix Amethyst. Just bullies.'

*Another man fell to Hanson. And then there was the worst case scenerio: the dragon might startle Nicholi. It might only freeze him for a moment, but against so many foes, a moment could be fatal. And Hanson was only just begining to see how badly the odds were stacked. It would be nearly impossible to win this fight. He might be forced to use his ring, but only as a last resort. Hanson jumped unto a table and kicked a man in the head, slammed his gaunlet unto another's head, and hit the flat of his sword on a third. He was sweating now, tiring. They needed a plan.*

'Nicholi, we need a plan darn it! Or we're gonna die! But he can't tell me a plan without telling all these thugs! We're screwed!'

*And the so called thugs piled endlessly onward, hoping on having their heads. On sticks. Perhaps smoking.*

[Nicholi]

Nicholi looks over to see Hanson in a bit of distress. He quickly glances over to the bar. The bartender has now brought two kegs of cordial out as requested. Nicholi smiles.

"Well, while this has been amusing, I'm afraid I can't stay and beat the rest of you. I have more important matters to take care of. Barkeep, please find your way to safety. Hanson, follow my lead!"

Nicholi leaps upward and grabs hold of a rafter. He takes his scythe and brings it crashing down into the rafter, splitting it into pieces. He proceeds to do the same to two more rafters.

"If you all value your pathetic lives, I suggest you get out of here before you’re crushed by the remains of this building. A single rafter keeps everyone in here from crossing the thin line over to death. Farwell peons! Let’s go Hanson."

Nicholi rushes to the door. He stops to grab his medicine chest and the two kegs of cordial. He quickly leaps out the door and turns in mid-jump. Gun raised and Hanson secure, Nicholi fires a shot into the remaining rafter. The barkeep, as well as many of the patrons, particularly those who were sober, had already left the building. The bar begins to cave in.

"We best hurry out of here Hanson. I have an appointment to keep."

[Hanson Crawford]

*Hanson glanced around at the remains of the bar, shocked by the sudden outcome. Also shocked for another reason. He looked at the blade of his short sword. It was red on a side. It was human blood. He'd killed someone in there. and with it had come a revelation. He'd been worng. He couldn't kill people without thinking twice. He wasn't a killer. The thought brought him joy. Good. He needed his heart. He would run Crawford Corp the way his father had. Hanson looked skyward. He'd also been impressed in there. With Nicholi, with himself, and with the old bearded guy. Hanson had heard a bottle smash and spun around (half thinking it had smashed over his own skull) to see a guy two feet from slitting his throat fall to the ground, the bearded guy standing over him with a broken bottle. They'd exchanged a brief look, 'Yeah, this happens all the time,' that look had said, and the old man had elbowed his way out of the room. Hanson hoped he ended up ok.*

"Now where?"

*Hanson glanced at Nicholi's drinks and smirked.*

"You do care about you cordial, don't you, Nicholi?"

[Nicholi]

Nicholi turns to face Hanson. With a smirk on his face he replies,

"Indeed I do Hanson, Indeed I do. Of course, there are things I care about much more."

Nicholi turns and looks to the sky. Thoughts of the others flooded his mind. Was their journey going succesfully? Have they been attacked? What of Mr. Dimitri and Miss, Kimato? Have they found comrodery amongst the others? What of Hanson and himself? Would they encounter anymore danger? What of Levithia? Was she still out to kill him? Nicholi turns to Hanson once more.

"Well, I suppose we should be going. Its a long way to the Ruined City from here."

Nicholi walks down the dust laden path, not knowing what the future holds instore.

[Hanson Crawford]

*They traveled on their way for two days without event. Hanson went over his current situation. The Board of Directors were probably running his company into the ground even as he walked the path with Nicholi at his side. And they knew he was alive. They might send men after him. Unlikely though., he realizes. They have everything they need from him. He can even imagine that jerk Blaire Whitecloak using his money to suit his needs. Felix Amethyst was still running the government into the ground. A fool is a fool is a fool, as his father had once said. Several times he thought of mentioning these things to Nicholi, to get his opinion, but Nicholi seemed a man of few words. And Hanson didn't want to appear to be complaining. On the third day he was so rapped up in his thoughts he didn't notice the branch jutting out from a tree until it crashed into his head.

Balire Whitecloak sits at Hanson's desk, leaning back in the revolvable chair and his feet (which were clad in sneakers. How unprofessional.) propped up on the oak desk. He is holding the phone in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He speaks into the phone with calm only he is capable of. "Yes," Blaire says, drinking his water and flipping the channels on Hanson's big screen to a station playing something that looked suspiciously like Loony Toons. "Have the carpets moved in by tomorrow, if it does ya fine. And if it doesn't, my lord, for the price I'm paying"
(Hanson's paying)
"I see no reason to be so easy going." But he IS easy going. Not a care in the world. All cartoons and leather chairs and bottled water. The very picture of bliss. "Yes, go in the back door, please, I'd rather not smuge the tiled floors of the entrance hall. Yes, turn left at the hall... no, when you see the portrait of Felix Amethyst shaking hands with the emperor, you'll have gone too far.... Hmmmm? You have a couch I might be interested in? Sure! Slap that baby on there! Give me the price and I'll send the check." A brief pause. "Fine, Cyriack. Have a good day and.... A few people might be wounded in the taking of this couch? HA! What do I care! Let 'em eat cake!" The fellow on the other end of the line bust out laughing and so did Blaire. He hung up. And in walks another familiar face. Nancy Lomble (who once called Hanson her little brother). Hanson's once secret crush. She was not the same. When she had been employed by Hanson she had worn very buisness attire; now she was nothing short of a french maid. Short, short, skirt, and tight, tight, bodice. She walks in trembling with a plate of what looks like fried shrimp and puts it on Blaire's
(Hanson's)
desk. He hardly looks at her. He's watching his cartoons and busts out laughing every few minutes at the comedy. He's playing with the rubix cube Hanson had on his desk and is close to solving it. Nancy turns unnoticed, blushing like the sky at sun set. Blaire chooses a shrimp, dips it in sauce, and pops it into his mouth. He washes it down with water. A second later he busts out laughing as a cartoon duck gets it's beak blown off.

*Hanson's wakes up with a start. He looks around. He's sweating. He is amazed to see its nearly sunset, and he's tremblong all over. Nicholi is now looking at him worridly.*

*Hanson looks around and groans. His head knows what he just saw can't have been true, but his heart says it is, that somehow, he just got ESP or something and saw what was happening on another continent. He just knows it.*

'I have to get back to Neo-Nexus. I have unfinished buisness.'

*And a few minutes later they were walking again. Hanson did not feel like walking, but he understood that urgency was the name of the game. They had to meet up with their companions. Because while separated, they were very vulnerable. And they both knew their were many who would like to take advantage of that vulnerablility....*