The New Guard: Below The Corporation 3

 The New Guard 2

The Bald Man Insurance 

The bald man hurried to the cemetery with that confident stride, knowing he had bought himself some time. He shook his head—no, he hadn’t truly bought time until he held the heart of that heartless daughter of the patron. One might wonder how he knew the grave of the patron’s lover, but not him; he still held the power of the gate and knew exactly what to do.

As he reached the cemetery, he stood for a moment, closing his eyes and sniffing the air. Sadness washed over him—not knowing his family, his parents, or even his own name. They simply called him the bald man. Anger flared, but he composed himself. Time waited for no one.

Compared to the hot, living world outside, the graveyard felt like hell frozen over. He could see his breath misting; his hands stiffened in the cold. He muttered a spell that chased the chill away, then faced the endless rows of graves.

“I am the gatekeeper below the corporation, and I hold power over you,” he declared into the swirling mist that coiled across the ground. “Lead me to the heart of Madrina.”

“The clock ticks for the change of guard,” a voice answered from the mist. “Hurry, or all may be lost, gatekeeper.”

“Who are you?” the bald man asked.

“I was once known as the Snatcher of Mortals. I’m sorry to say I was the one who snatched you from your family. My reward was not what I expected—I was given to the mist, and the mist made me into mist, to serve for eternity.”

“I don’t understand you, and I don’t care,” the bald man said. “Just lead me to the heart. I’m not the one to pass your judgment.”

“Very well. Follow the mist.”

The bald man watched as a ribbon of mist detached from the rest and glided forward in a straight line, then began to zigzag between the graves. He followed until it stopped at an unremarkable plot—no headstone, just flattened mud. He looked around; the guiding mist had already vanished. He sighed. “Best to get on with it. Time is ticking.”

The Heart

He closed his eyes, oriented himself to the four directions of the wind, and when he was satisfied, opened his right palm. “I seek the heart of Madrina for protection only,” he intoned. “As the gatekeeper, I have that authority over the patron and all his minions.”

And just like that, the heart was in his hand.

At the Gate

Cold-Ice led Claude Mikel to the gate, and Claude was impressed by what he saw: an imposing, towering structure made of obsidian. Through it, he could make out figures waiting on the other side. He pulled out his pocket mirror and called to his guide.

“Hey, do you know what this is?” he asked, flashing the mirror in front of Cold-Ice.

Cold-Ice hissed and dissolved into mist.

The Patron’s Offer

The Patron watched his chosen gatekeeper and smiled. He had seen what would happen with Cold-Ice and knew this was no ordinary man. He watched as the man made his way toward him, shaking his head at how he took his time to look at everything he saw. The mortal didn't seem to care that the Patron was waiting for him.

The Patron chuckled at the audacity. He liked that confidence; he could see this was a man who knew what he wanted. When the man finally reached him, the Patron just shook his head and said, "Finally, you’re here."

The man remained silent, simply staring at the Patron. Claude could see the Patron's minions gearing up to tear him apart, but the Patron raised a hand to stop them. This was about his daughter, so he needed to win the man over.

"You should be honored and happy to be here, standing before I, the Patron."

The man laughed, and it was a bitter sound. "I should be happy to be tricked and brought to hell?"

"This is no hell, but a place of power. If you accept the role of gatekeeper, you will have power and riches."

"Like that bald man, eh?"

"That man was weak, and his time is over."

"And you dumped him like trash," Claude replied. "Why would I take his place when the same fate could happen to me?"

"You’re different," the Patron said, stroking his chin.

"How so? I can’t live in a hellhole with nothing to distract me—no women, and no other vices a man is used to."

"Women will be brought to you if it pleases you. You will have power and riches, and you will sign a contract so you can go back to your world whenever you are ready."

Claude Mikel’s mind was spinning. There was a possibility there. If he could have those riches and that power, and sign a contract at the end, he could become the wealthiest man alive. But he had come to know that there is no gain in bargaining with the devil.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I want you to man the gate, and to make sure no harm befalls my daughter."

"You have a kid here?"

The Patron grinned at that. "It is complicated. You know... women stuff."

"Yeah. So, how long will I stay here?" Claude Mikel asked.

The Patron smiled. He knew he was winning the mortal over; he could smell his brokenness and knew that riches were what he sought—power was just secondary.

"That depends on circumstances. There is something going on that I may not say; I am forbidden to speak of it. But once it clicks, you will be free to go, contract or not."

"Hmm. Is there a catch?" Claude Mikel asked.

"No. You were chosen for just that purpose, and only you are capable."

Claude Mikel laughed. "Me, capable? I wouldn’t be broke if I were that capable," he muttered.

"Our areas of calling are sometimes different from what we have been doing," the Patron said with a grin. "You may be a doctor today, but your calling is to be a musician. With time, you will ditch the medical profession for the music. The time just has to be right."

"That makes sense," Claude Mikel said, nodding his head. "So?"

"Are you in?" the Patron asked him.

The Blood Covenant

"I will do it," Claude Mikel said.

The Patron was silent for a moment. He was thrilled because he knew this man would be the one to save his daughter. Claude would be the one to return her heart—which remained in the mortal world while she lived in the spirit world. It was a sacrifice her mother had made to save her, and only this man had the power to take her back to the mortal world where she belonged.

"That is great," the Patron said. "Let us draw the contract, then."

"Sure. And don’t forget to include the women, too. I will need them whenever and however I want."

"Of course," the Patron replied with a cold smile. "I am a generous Patron, after all. Now, I will need you to bring your blood."

The Blood Bond

"My blood?"

"Yes. It is a binding of your soul. Don’t worry; my word still stands on when you want to leave."

Claude Mikel grunted and muttered unintelligible words under his breath. He moved toward the Patron and opened his palm. He watched as the Patron blew a cold breeze from his mouth that formed into a frost blade.

"Do I get power like that?" Claude asked.

The Patron chuckled. "No. It depends on your mindset."

He then used the frost blade to cut a deep line into Claude Mikel’s palm. Claude endured the pain of the cut, watching his blood swell in his hand. Then, the Patron muttered an incantation that made his blood begin to boil. Claude’s face twisted into a grimace of pain, but he endured it all.

"Say this after me," the Patron said, looking deep into his eyes. "I, Claude Mikel, do solemnly swear to uphold the laws of the dark realm. I swear to never compromise my position, and I swear to be loyal and never use my power over those below me."

After he had spoken the words, he felt a burning sensation move into his chest. When the heat became unbearable, he fell to his knees and screamed.

The Bald Man

The bald man felt the power leave him just as he exited the cemetery. That was close, he thought, glancing behind him. They would be coming for him very soon. He grinned, knowing he still held a trump card to survive them.

He was walking when they suddenly surrounded him—snarling creatures with fangs as long as medium swords.

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