Clockwork

     And he would prove it to himself, even if, in the end, he had to attack Rainmaker herself.

     Upon arriving at his house, he noted his servants had arrived. He would need to address them- He needed new warriors. He hated Rainmaker for taking them. Their new masters may be in for a surprise- he hadn’t reverted their abilities to normal.

     He walked up to his balcony to give orders to his servants. They were scared, as they should be.

     “My new servants. I welcome you to my house. Please split into two groups- one that can and will fight, and those who cannot or will not.” Eight of the fourteen went to the right, saying they could fight (probably more out of fear of what he would do to them rather than because what they truly thought), and the remaining six went to the left.

     “Okay. The eight of you that will learn to fight, go to the back. The rest, I will talk to you about your jobs.” As he waited for the eight to file back around his, he walked down to the yard. Once they were gone, he addressed the remaining six. “You two- the younger two- you’ll run errands. Blondie- you’ll stay with so you can run when I need you too.” He turned to the other four. “The rest of you will cook food for all of us. All fourteen of you will live on the second and third floor- I’ll stay on the first. Make sure everything there is clean, as well as everything I see on my way to the balcony. Otherwise, I don’t care about the rest of the house. Just keep it clean where I am.”

     He then walked back around the house. “Come here.” The frightened vanillas came, probably thinking they would be punished for choosing to be able to fight. “Okay, you eight will be my knights. You will fight as I direct. I will give you power to fight even some lesser epics.” He touched each on the forehead, increasing their strength, speed, agility, and endurance several times higher than a normal human’s.

     “First, I’ll show you beginning techniques…”

***

     After a long day of working with the new recruits, he sent them up to rest. Even he was exhausted. He hadn’t expected them to take so much work- he thought he could do anything. And it seems some things are harder than expected. He thought. He needed to summon Gemheart again in the morning.

     A loud thump echoed through the house. Holy crap, what are they doing now? The vanillas had been testing their new abilities all afternoon. It seemed like they had found a new way.

     Then a bestial scream echoed through the house.

     OKAY, WHO LET THE FRACKING DEMENTED IN?! He rushed out past to bodies he didn’t recognize. Outside was a warzone. Again. Do the stupid things migrate, or is something determined I get no sleep? His warriors were all still fighting, though one had taken a powerful blow to the stomach, and has trying to bandage himself. He rushed out again to fight.

***

     Finally getting to bed, he didn’t plan on getting back up again for a while. Finally.

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     Jack was having a terrible day. First, he had been reassigned from a lesser fire epic who could only start fires, then the new epic ran him ragged the first day. Sure, who knew how to fight now, but training is tiring.

     Then a bunch of fiends show up in the middle of the night. He was a light sleeper, and had woken up when they came in. He had warned the other soldiers, and killed the first several in the house. Then, one of the smarter ones took some blunted knife and mangled his stomach.

     Finally, Chasmfiend came out, and finished off the rest of the fiends. He healed Jack (It took about 10 minutes) and went back to bed. Jack, however, found a book on fighting. Next time, he would be prepared. He would fight better. He would win.

***

     In the morning, even after only 5 hours of sleep, he got up and ran to his storage area, close to his last master’s home. He went to get the few items he had accumulated.

     On the run back, he changed. Slaughter ensued.

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     Valdemar dodged yet another strike from a ghoul. Blasting its head off with his gun, he wondered where the Epic who turned these people was. They had killed one or two who were doing it already. Yet they still came. He assumed it meant the Epic was a gifter.

     He swung the gun into another ghoul as it tried to get his partner, who was obviously new. No one else would try to hide. They could… smell you or something. Finally able to reload, he did, and mowed another five down.

     “Hey, new guy,” He shouted at his partner, “if you’re not going to fight, then get over here and trade me your rifle.” The new guy approached slowly, on his stomach. Holy crap, he’s an idiot. Grabbing his rifle, he gave him his. “Reload.” The man, older than him, apparently at least knew how to do that. And he could actually follow orders. His last partner had gotten his head ripped off trying to go solo.

     Killing the last one, he looked around. Usually only a couple of them died, but this had been a particularly large horde. He saw almost 20 dead. Stormur það! That many had never died on his patrol before. There must’ve been something else attacking, but he didn’t see anything. Litlaus Epics, he thought. One of them must have gotten involved. They always caused more fatalities than when they just stayed out. Idiots.

     “Men! Back the barracks!” He knew they would happily go without him. He needed to report. He would probably be killed for the number of deaths on his patrol. Be maybe if he caught their superior in a good mood...