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Arcturus


GranspearZX

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Origins I: Regret

It isn’t often that it happens… that transformative moment where everything changes, nothing is the same, and everything you thought you knew suddenly means absolutely nothing. I thought I understood it all. My magic, what it meant, how to control it…

 

Turns out I didn’t understand a damn thing.

 

I should have seen it coming, in hindsight. After my first UNICOM encounter, I decided to stay in Africa to help rebuild. I missed my own graduation to do it. At the time, I thought it was a worthy sacrifice to make, but now…. No. That’s not what I was doing. I was isolating myself. Trying to drown out the noise, both external and internal… I had so many opportunities to reach out and ask for help. I know a number of people who both offered and gladly would have helped if I’d only asked. But I said that I was ‘fine’. I lied to everyone. Even myself.

 

And now I’m going to die for my pride and fear.

 

Marcus could barely remember where he was, never mind how many days had passed. The details were sketchy and faded, but he remembered being ambushed in the streets of Johannesburg by the same cultists that had tried to steal the Beast Rune from him countless times in America. Even without being horribly outnumbered, when *it* showed up, the fight took an ugly turn. Brute strength had never been enough to face the iron monstrosity that had been stalking him since he was a teenager. He wasn’t sure why he thought it would be any different.

 

Still, he found himself hoping that no one else had been caught. He couldn’t hear the pulse of the Beast Rune anymore. At one time, he would have been relieved, but silence had never been more terrifying. Every day that steady beat was reduced to little or nothing as his magic was being drained from him. There was still something there. He was still alive. But what exactly was that worth now?

 

I didn’t understand a damn thing.

 

Amidst the bouts of unconsciousness, Marcus could hear his captors talking. Someone was coming. Someone important. Nothing could stop them then. His first instinct was resistance, but his magical restraints held. Transforming outwardly wasn’t an option. He couldn’t feel the Beast Rune at all. It was gone. He was too exhausted to even think about fighting.

 

But I’m not dying here today, dammit. Think, Marcus…

 

Hours passed. Days. And he could think of nothing. Without his magic, what did he really have?

The door swung open and a rush of air hit him as the men in hooded brown robes filed in. Something seemed off, though. The whole room slowed down as he braced against the sudden drop in temperature, keenly aware of the shackles chaining him to the wall. The color drained from the room, and a figure faded into view. Large. Imposing. Feral. The shadowy beast went unnoticed by the cultists, now frozen in place. What was this? The red-eyed mass of darkness walked slowly and deliberately toward him, and Marcus could only stare back. Never mind that he couldn’t physically move his body; his mind was still racing. All he could think was one thing…

 

Not at all what I expected Death to look like.

 

“Do you know who I am?”

 

When it spoke, its voice filled his mind. Though even and calm, it felt like a roar, chilling him a little despite his already dire situation. It was as intimidating as it was familiar. It had been years since he had heard it so clearly. But once he had placed it, there was no mistaking its baritone authority.

The Beast Rune.

 

“You’ve resisted my call for long enough, magus,” it said. “And now, that arrogance will cost you.”

 

No kidding. They’re about to—

 

“That’s not what I mean. Our fates are intertwined, child of Man. And believe It or not, I would rather not see you meet your end just yet. These… amateurs will never be able to take control of me. Nor will you. However…” The beast’s red eyes narrowed, nearly nose to nose with Marcus. “…you’ve never been the type to seek power for the sake of power, have you? Your father… he was much like you. I will offer you the same freedom I offered him.”

 

Absolutely not.

 

Marcus didn’t so much as hesitate when the Beast posited the question. There was his answer... what he had left when hi magic was gone. His dignity. The freedom of his soul. There was no way he was going to give that up. The Beast Rune took full control of his father and destroyed an entire town. Lives were lost. Marcus resigned himself to death before allowing anything like that to happen again.

 

“Your father’s mistake is that he underestimated his own anger, his own rage and regret. All the things that led to his life before that moment… You humans bury these things in the deepest parts of you and then blame everything but yourselves when they surface. And yet, here you sit, clearly without such regrets… and you want to die anyway.”

 

If that's what has to happen, fine. But… that’s not what I want at all.

 

“Then let me in. Not just partially this time. No holding back. No regrets.”

 

You’ve got to be kidding.  Marcus stared at the Beast and he couldn’t believe either the proposal or the idea that he was actually considering it. If he did this… then what? Would he be strong enough to stop what had happened to his father? He didn’t even know where he was or the damage that he could cause.

 

I have conditions.

 

“As if you’re in a position to make demands.”

 

Damn right I am! Look where we are right now. If I go, we BOTH go. My soul is prepared for that. And you'll spend who knows how long in the dark before you find another sucker to take your Faustian deal.

 

The Beast growled, and Marcus continued to glare back at the massive thing, eyes unwavering. “…you’ve a better understanding of this than I thought. I knew I liked you. But your strength alone will not help here. The Cult has damaged you in a way that even I cannot heal. However, I can add what power you have left to my own. A balance can be struck. I can guide you back to your path… but you must first let me in.”

 

For what it was worth, Marcus could tell that it wasn’t lying. He also knew cryptic speech when he heard it, and the Beast was definitely withholding something. Though time seemed to be standing still, he could tell that his answer here would determine his fate. More importantly, he didn’t have one if he said no. And neither did the Beast Rune.

 

Alright.

 

“Good.” Without so much as a moment of hesitation, the Beast reached forward, placing its massive paw on Marcus’s head. “I am Animus, the Beast Rune… and I unleash you.”

Edited by GranspearZX
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Origin II: Recall

 

It started well over seven years ago. Marcus was surprised he remembered it so vividly, practically the entire day.

 

He'd never been much for birthdays. Ever since his mother left, he hadn't really felt like celebrating them. It wasn't because of any particular memory that he was clinging to or anything quite so dramatic. It was more of a melancholy feeling that it was a day like any other. There would be more significant birthdays than his 15th. His father, though, was having none of it.

 

Marcus was almost certain that his father dragged him all over the city that day. They went to see a movie early in the afternoon, then a hockey game. His father even bought him a jersey and, by the end of the night, four players had even autographed it for him. In hindsight, the entire night was pretty incredible.

 

In hindsight, his father knew he wasn't going to be a free man for much longer.

 

He didn't know what his father had done then. The monster he became, the destruction he caused. As they drove home that night, they ctalked about a lot of things--more than Marcus could ever remember talking to his father. When they arrived, however, the tone changed a bit. He didn't notice then, but his father seemed notably more edgy and tense. Nothing seemed amiss to him until after he'd gone to bed.

 

The first thing he heard was the downstairs window break. Marcus immediately sat up and grabbed his baseball bad,. He wasn't sure what he was going to DO with said bad, but better safe than sorry. When he reached the top of the stairs, he saw the entire scene, adrenaline and panic racing a everything felt like it was slowing down. Four armed men. His father on the floor.

 

Panic turned to rage.

 

One of the men saw him, but didn't expect an immediate reaction from the teenager. He definitely didn't anticipate the boy leaping down the steps with that kind of ease and taking a swing at him with the bat. One of the other men grabbed him to try to restrain him.

 

The rage kept building. And that's when he heard it.

 

"Let me in."

 

All he could really remember was the desire. It burned, and he wanted these men gone. His first thought, however, wasn't to harm them... but to protect his home and the only family he had. Someone or something was offering him the tools to do exactly that.

 

By the time it was over, all accounts were the same. A 15-year old boy turned into a six-foot tall bear in the middle of his living room and physically threw at least two of the men out before the tranquilizers managed to deescalate the situation. When Marcus came to, he was in the hospital., and Duncan Summers was sitting at the foot of his bed.

 

All at once, he learned who he was, what he was, and where he came from. He learned he could never go back, and his only path was forward.

 

"It's up to you to choose how, kid." That was what he said.

 

Years later, it turned out that much was still true.

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Origins III: Rebirth

 

"As a matter of science, it took a considerable amount of force for something to cause a quake miles underground. While the Cult of the Beast Rune was no stranger to eldritch accidents, the violent rumbling caught everyone of guard A group of the cultists, led by a figure in a black robe, paused just long enough to see a door at the end of the hallway burst off its hinges and into splinters, filling the area with an acrid smoke.

 

"Seems your window has closed," he said, a swirling black vortex appearing behind him. Before anyone present could object, he stepped into it and was gone.

 

In the next moment, a figure burst from the smoke. Arcturus in his bear form was scary enough, but this was different. His eyes were a vibrant, angry green, the golden glow of Terra, the Earth Rune shining across both his hands. The cultists drew their weapons and Arcturus drove both his palms into the ground, sending a wave of huge rocks shaped like fists into the group. The great bear stood upright and the runes covering his hands shifted, turning from yellow to the green glow of Atmos, the Wind Rune. His giant form shrank, transforming the mage into a large humanoid tiger. Wind kicked up in his wake as he sprinted forward, over and past his unconscious captors.

 

What... what is this?

 

This is you. This is us. This is the balance we agreed upon.

 

But I can't... are you doing this?

 

Trust me. You'll thank me once we leave this accursed place."

 

...so that's it then. No hostile takeover?

 

Is that what you want?

 

The conversation continued as Arcturus tore through the underground labyrinth that was the Cult's base of operations. It seemed like forever before he could smell fresh air, rether than the stagnant, moldy scent of the caverns and corridors below. He could see armed resistance flooding the area as he moved, stopping just long enough for the runes adorning his hands to change color again, this time from green to the fiery red of Ignis. Flames engulfed his form as he shifted; cultists with bows fired and missed as a great, red-winged bird shot into the sky, out of reach into the horizon.

 

Where are you taking us?

 

Home.

 

...how do you even know where that is?

 

That isn't the question you should be askng. When this is over you may feel some... discomfort.

 

What did you do?!

 

I did nothing. Or rather, I did what I could. The rest is entirely up to you.

 

What is that supposed to mean?

 

As Freedom City loomed on the horizon, Arcturus stopped hearing Animus's voice. How long had they been flying? he couldn't really tell. More importantly, as he noticed the nimbus of flame surrounding him hadn't faded, he realizedd his wings weren't moving. He wasn't flying. He was falling.

 

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Origins IV: Recovery

 

Marcus could never be 100% sure what happened.

 

He did remember blacking out. He vaguely remembered the sound of a car and a voice yelling at him. As it stood, he was in a hospital bed, unable to recall the last time he'd ever been in one. The whole thing was weird. There was a doctor hovering over him as he came to.

 

"Well then. Good morning Mr. Irons. How are you feeling?"

 

"I've been better." He started to sit up and the room tilted. Okay. That's new.

 

"Whoa, hold on, son. You've been unconscious for two days. Hit your head pretty hard, I'd say..."

 

"I hit my... what?" Marcus didn't doubt that was true, but he was certain there was more wrong with him than that. He could feel it. Concentrating on the Beast Rune, though... that was still there. It was different, but as he focused on it, the sudden vertigo began to wane. He lifted his right hand to his head, finally noticing the bandage above his left eye.

 

"Nothing to be alarmed about," the doctor assured him. "You might have a little scar there but there's no fractures or internal damage. I'd say you were pretty lucky."

 

Lucky. There was a word Marcus wasn't in any mood to hear. "How did I get here? I don't... remember anything."

 

"One of our medical students brought you into the ER. She's doing her rounds, but I can have her stop by-"

 

"Nah, that's not..." He paused. He didn't want to be rude. It was likely that she saved his life. He also didn't want to stick around the hospital any longer than necessary.  "It's fine. You can thank Miss..."

 

"Romero. Teresa Romero."

 

"Right. Tell her thank you for me?"

 

"If you're planning on leaving, that's not going to be happening any time soon. I'd still like to look you over, run a few tests... you were pretty banged up when you got here and--..."

 

At that point, Marcua tuned him out. He had other problems to solve, and that wasn't happening from a hospital bed.

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