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Letters from a Stranger

csyphrett

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csyphrett Grand Master

csyphrett

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1

 

April, 38-

Dear Dad,

I arrived in town a couple of days ago. I found a place not too far from the beach. At night, I can hear the ocean roll in. It's a restful sound.

 

The city has some kind of attraction to spirits. I have seen several ghosts, and put down two imps. Something is bringing them from the other side. It's not magic. It's something in the air.

 

I have found a labyrinth underground. It goes on for miles. The only exits seem to be under the city proper. I don't know what to make of it. I plan to continue exploring in my free time.

 

My job as clerk starts Monday. I have already gone and talked to Mr. Finch. He said to pass on his well wishes. He is in ill health. The doctors do not know what is wrong. My guess is alchemical poisoning. I have cast some healing spells on him, but they only blur the pain.

 

I could use some advice how to treat him. The extent of the poisoning is unknown to me.

 

Mr. Finch will be dead by the end of the year if we cannot help him in my opinion.

 

Other than these two unpleasant discoveries, everything is fine. My neighbors allow me to keep to myself. I have placed the necessary wards around my apartment to prevent burglaries of the natural and supernatural variety. I am looking for a place I can buy so I will not have to worry about innocents if something does happen.

 

One more thing, Dad.

 

The newspapers are abuzz about a mystery man helping people here. He calls himself the Minute Man. He has saved several lives while maintaining his privacy.

 

I have decided to emulate him when I act against the random darkness that seems to be prevalent in this city. I have adopted your colors and the star brand path to conceal my identity from those who would want to take advantage of me.

 

The newspapers are calling me the Patriot. Unfortunately one of the imps I fought burst out in a crowd. Everyone saw our fight. Someone actually had the nerve to take pictures. I have enclosed the clipping for you to read yourself.

 

I hasten to assure you that most of the article is a lie. The reporter did not know what was happening. Very few people would even know that the creature in question was from another dimension.

 

I also did not grant an interview to explain things to the public.

 

I hope you understand why I decided to stop the creature even though I could not prevent it from attacking civilians.

 

I know that you did similar things when you were younger. I assure you that I did not act out of misguided hero worship. I also did not do it because the imp in question attacked a beautiful lady.

 

I know you have told me a beautiful face is something to be wary of but a chance meeting is not love at first sight.

 

Something is going on outside. The sky has lit up with lightning. That's unusual. Excuse this break in my thoughts as I take a moment to find out what is happening.

 

I have returned. I assure you that everything is all right. Despite radio reports to the contrary, the city is safe.

 

It was touch and go for a moment there. I thought everything was lost. Minute Man arrived and saved the day. His assistance was enough to banish the Imp King across several barriers. Hopefully the miscreant will not return for a long time.

 

Apparently he induced in himself a case of unrequited love for the lady I mentioned earlier in my letter. He assumed the feeling was mutual. He was distraught when I interfered in his plans to kidnap the object of his desire to his hideaway under the sea. He decided to unleash all the forces at his command to summon an army of imps to prevent anyone from interfering in his mad designs.

 

Luckily I was able to fly to the beach from my apartment before he had a chance to finish the job of abducting the lady. I attracted his attention enough that he attacked me in a jealous rage instead of completing his plan. The lady was able to escape up the beach to the road while we dueled.

 

I am ashamed to admit that I was almost overpowered by the so-called Imp King. The force of numbers forced me to unleash several powerful attacks that drained my energy while barely scratching him.

 

The arrival of Minute Man in his tiny bodies turned the tide with his physical strength plowing the minions into the sand. That distracted the Imp King enough that I was able to marshal my remaining power to open a gate for our enemy and send him on his way.

 

He explained that he had noticed the kidnaping attempts and had followed the lady from her abode to the beach. He had been slowed down by traffic and had arrived almost too late. I assured him that I had no hard feelings at the outcome of things.

 

He assured me that he would escort the lady home. There seemed to be some kind of connection there, but I am not sure what. Perhaps he was personally involved with her. I have no idea. I decided that it was better that I not know.

 

I applied healing spells to the scrapes I picked up battling the imps, and have a glass of wine to speed up the process. I will be in excellent help when I report for work on Monday.

 

Living in a city is strange. I am sure the feeling will go away. I have to make my own way. I cannot spend my life at home wondering what to do with it.

 

Tell Mother not to worry. I will send you both something from the stores here as soon as I am more settled in.

 

I will attempt to be more discreet in my dealings in the future. Deranged madmen are not my cup of tea.

 

I prefer civilized conversation and the sounds of the people going about their business to the rantings of the dispossessed and dissolute.

 

I assure you that I will do all that I can to act as honorably as you have taught me, and I shall follow your example as best that I can.

 

Best wishes from your son,

David.

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csyphrett Grand Master

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Re: Letters from a Stranger

 

2

 

February, 1942,

Dear Dad,

I arrived in Scotland this afternoon. The weather was bad, the hills were bleak, and controlled chaos surrounded me. I wonder if enlisting was the right thing to do now that I look at my new home until the war is over.

 

This is the best thing I could do at the time. The Axis are behind the rise of supernatural forces in the world. They have to be stopped.

 

The rising darkness affected Old Troy considerably. I was kept busy by the constant influx of energy from the leylines terminating under the city. I finally diverted the random gates into the ocean using the Occales spell you showed me. I know that isn't going to last forever.

 

Before Pearl, I had worked with some FBI men. They contacted me about a secret project under the OSS. I agreed to join as a consultant. This will give me a chance to try to divert the blood magic the Reich is performing. The project heads see me as just another mystery man. I failed to tell them about my training.

 

Magic is a discredited practice despite the existence of men who can fly through the air. We're able to hide in plain site if we have a mask and costume.

 

I am supposed to undergo some training in weapons and hand to hand. I expect to pass. You have given me a superhumanly strong and fast body already. My magic should help me do the rest. You have trained me with rifles and pistols so I don't expect to learn anything new in that department.

 

The rest of the team should be arriving pretty soon. My understanding is they were all mystery men in the States that agreed to join this Project Z. I hope they live up to the talk that I have heard.

 

The base will hold us with an airstrip for our airplane. I was told we're going to be dropped behind enemy lines to carry out espionage. The Allies are having a hard time landing on the continent. I theorize that's because of the magic energy being channeled by the Nazis.

 

I hope I'm wrong.

 

The necessary power would have to come from a massive amount of life energy to cover the entirety of their domain. It would be more than one mage could hope to generate on his own.

 

We're looking at an exponential sort of thing. The only way to combat it is to take that energy away from them. The only way to do that is to invade and shrink the bubble.

 

I expect that will take more than what the Allies can do at the moment.

 

Members of my future unit seem to be arriving. I can see a couple of flying men landing at the airstrip. I wonder what else they can do.

 

That alarms are sounding. What's going on? I'm sitting here and can't see anything. Wait. I see a set of bombers coming across the sky.

 

This could be bad, Dad. They might be heading for London, one of the other Allied air bases, or any other potential target. The flying men are headed up to meet them.

 

I am moving to the front door to get a better look at things. If I need to go up there and help out, I will. I think it would be better to concentrate on shielding the base from any stray bombs. They might have been heading south and decided to bomb us for practice.

 

That was a bad move on their part.

 

The flying men cut through the metal birds with energy blasts. They sent the bombers toward the ground. I created a wall in front of the fence. I was hoping to dampen the blasts when the wounded aircraft hit the ground.

 

The soldiers supposedly guarding the fence ran for cover as I put up the wall. Apparently they had enough experience to realize that an exploding plane would be bad for them.

 

Planes with Army Air Force and RAF markings joined the dogfight. I watched from the ground, pulling on my masked identity. It was better protection than the army uniform issued by the government.

 

Thank you for showing me how to build it.

 

The planes crashed into the ground. Some of them managed to slide along the grass. That was a testament to their pilots. Most went straight into the ground. Explosions scattered flames across the grass.

 

The walls barely held. I lucked out with a fence defining the perimeter of the base. I let the wall collapse as the bombers scattered without dropping any of their packages. I admit I was glad that none of the bombs fell straight into the camp.

 

The pursuit planes gave chase as our security went out check for survivors. I decided to watch from afar, Dad. My spell cost me a lot to cast. Actually trying to help the survivors of the crashes would wipe me out.

 

Still, I am watching the gate as medics roll out to the crash sites. I wonder how many of the crews survived the crashes.

 

I suppose I should express my regret, but I don't feel that. They were on the way to bomb a target on my side of the water. Maybe they were here to bomb where I'm standing. Preventing that seemed the best thing to do.

 

I wonder if we saved some civilian on his way home to feed his family with what could be the only thing he could get. Maybe the crashes saved fighting men in training to cross the channel. I looked at it that way instead of the murder it could have been.

 

At least, I can't hear their death screams from where I'm standing.

 

Survivors were found by the guards. Nobody seemed to expect that. I know that I didn't. They lined the remains of the crews up near the crash site. Trucks rolled out to take them away. I looked around the base. I didn't see a brig.

 

That made sense to send them away. They couldn't be allowed in a training barracks for an experimental agency. Things might get out.

 

I wonder what else will happen. Obviously a leak of some kind informed the Germans something important was happening. It didn't have to be a human leak. Clairvoyance and astral formation could be involved. I will have to put up a screen when I feel stronger.

 

That should keep the annoying spies out of our hair while we plan. If you know something particularly vicious, Dad, I would be much obliged if you share it with me in your next letter.

 

I would like to use the Nazi magic against its users. It appeals to me.

 

I'll have to end my letter now. I can see several officers and the flying men heading toward the barracks. I have a feeling this could mean a move to another place while they try to sort things out. I'll write again soon.

 

Your son,

David

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Re: Letters from a Stranger

 

Good job. interesting story. However, the perspective is kind of weird. These are written as letters to the character's father but written in present tense as actions are happening. I imagine the character running around with a letter in one hand and a pencil/pen in the other writing the events as they are happening. If he were a reporter talking into a recorder or Video camera describing events as they happen this would make sense. Rather you should use more past tense as the author describes the days tramatic events. He probably would have time to collect his thought and reflect on the events after the crisis is over rather than during the event. Just my opinion.

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csyphrett Grand Master

csyphrett

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Re: Letters from a Stranger

 

June, 1943

Dear Dad,

Another mission successfully completed. Things are getting tougher for us, but we're turning the tide finally. The Germans are spending a lot of their energy trying to keep up their shield from our advance, while powering side projects.

 

The mission objective was an old castle at the base of the Alps. The enemy had entrenched in the castle and surrounding towns. Bombing had been unsuccessful because of some kind of defense set up to shoot the bombers down before they could drop their payload.

 

The decision from Command was to send us in to knock the place out. Intelligence reported a new weapon was being built that could stop the allied advance. We were ordered to take the place apart, gather any useful intelligence, get out.

 

The initial leg of the trip was a flight over the Channel. We didn't try to get close to the castle defenses. We just needed to get close enough so we could travel the rest of the way under our own power.

 

We dropped out of the bomber a few hundred miles south of where we had to be. I used a platform to transport the landbound part of our group. We landed outside of the village of Morganstern to plan our assault.

 

We decided after about an hour of reconnaissance that we could enter the facility by cutting through a wall at night. The garrison would be on night watch, but we felt we could handle any normal soldiers.

 

Our main worry was what were the masterminds from the Special Projects branch doing inside the building. Once they became aware of our assault, it would be their magic versus my comrades' powers. If we wanted to succeed, we would have to strike hard and vanish before the enemy knew what happened.

 

I cut through the wall. As the only magician, I took care not to set off any perceived alarms. As long as I was taken for just another mystery man, we still had an ace card in case things went to pot. As soon as I had a door open inside, we split up to carry out the mission.

 

Rapier and I headed for the manufacturing part of the plant. We were supposed to plant explosives to wreck the place where the Germans had built their secret process. The idea was to make it hard for them to duplicate whatever they were doing elsewhere.

 

The central area had been loaded with giant tubes sticking out of the floor. Pipes across the ceiling plugged into the seals at the tops of the tanks. Things floated in green liquid inside the cylinders.

 

Rapier seemed disturbed by the grotesqueries. I admit you didn't often see chtonic entities growing in vats. I told him to plant the explosives where fire would burn through the holding pens. I made sure to enhance the bombs with my magic.

 

I wanted to make sure the incarnated demonic beings went up like rockets at the Fourth of July. I didn't want to think what would happen if even one of them got loose and started growing.

 

The alarms went off. We finished what we were doing while the sounds of running feet echoed in our part of the building. One of the other members of the team must have done something to attract attention.

 

I still don't know who set off the alarm.

 

I blocked the entrances to the main production area to prevent anyone from trying to stop the bombs Rapier had hidden around the room. I cut an exit in the floor to avoid the people running in the halls.

 

We made our way to the extraction point. Luckily, we didn't see any guards as we went. They all seemed to be headed away from us.

 

Rapier decided that we should make sure the rest of our team was all right. The amount of fireworks being thrown around was enormous by my standards. I agreed.

 

I didn't want to leave anyone behind to be necromanced by the wrong hands.

 

I carried him over on a platform. Several members of our team had engaged a wizard and were holding their own. I frowned that some of them were missing. Soldiers had decided to use cover to fire machine guns at my friends to support their commander.

 

We fell on the defenders from behind. I stuck with my stars to cover the magic as regular mystery man mysterious energy blasts. Rapier pulled his namesake weapon of choice. It only took several moments for us to mince the support platoon between the two of us.

 

Surprise helped our victory more than anything.

 

I engaged the wizard as he tried to stop Rapier and I from interfering. We took our battle into nearby planes as we struggled. He tried to unleash the thousand ribbons on me. I used a variation starburst to blow his spell apart.

 

Then I punched him in the face to end the battle.

 

We wanted to take him prisoner but we had to leave the castle immediately. The explosives that we had planted started going off. The ones in the monster factory produced the hottest flames, the loudest roar. The castle's inner citadel sank inward on itself.

 

We retreated from the castle by air. Our explosive charges created a tower of flame visible for miles. We decided to put as much distance as we could between us and them.

 

We reached a harbor in northern France. Soldiers were everywhere. I used my disguising glamors to get us through without too many questions. We rented a boat and sailed back across the channel to England without too much trouble from the U-boats patrolling the coast.

 

Once we arrived in England, a call to the local RAF base arranged transport back to our base. Debriefing is to begin tomorrow.

 

I made sure to wipe the notebooks gathered by our team. I didn't want the allies to try and build monstrosities from magic. Even using such creatures could have side effects on the user. It was better that no one knew how to make such things if possible.

 

With the castle down as a strongpoint, bombing missions were sent in to make sure we had ruined everything by dropping T.N.T. on anything that might still be standing. Our assessment was that it was unnecessary, but the brass wanted to make sure.

 

I'm glad we did what we did. It had been a close thing. Those undead monsters could have easily killed numerous allied lives and no one would have known what happened.

 

I wished we could have taken that Nazi wizard. That would have given me insight on where to strike next instead of waiting on Intelligence to pick a target. It would have also removed a dangerous threat from the board.

 

I'm afraid that the number of dangerous rituals will increase as the Germans are pushed back. There has to be a way to strike at their leadership and wipe them out before they can try to perform anything supremely dangerous.

 

I will try to impress Command to target anyone in the underground that they can find. I expect that will be easier said than done. Magicians routinely conceal what they can do from the upper world. A hunt would have to take that in consideration.

 

I will also recommend Command try to find the source of the sacrificial victims and cut it off. That will shut off the source of their power. That will make the fighting easier for our side if it can be done.

 

The flow of life energy concerns me. They must be killing someone every hour to keep up the shield around their conquered lands. The rate of murder must be higher than anything in history.

 

If it can be stopped, the German war machine will grind to a stop. It's the only thing keeping a majority of the allied forces out of the continent at the moment. The more we press forward, the tighter the shield will grow to try to keep us from advancing. Shutting it off will be a key to victory.

 

As long as we can send bombers over Fortress Europa, we can control the skies. If the Germans take that advantage away, we'll suffer loss after loss as the Axis expand to cover the rest of the world.

 

Only England's natural protection has allowed her to weather the storm as her citizens stand up to oppression. Churchill has spawned that belief in Britannia's survival.

 

I will have to sit through my debriefing. After that I plan to roam around the countryside for a while until I have to return to base. I will see if I can find you some of those buns you like so much.

 

I will send you something even if I can't find those particular ones. The next letter will be out to you in a few days.

 

Your loving son,

David.

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csyphrett Grand Master

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Re: Letters from a Stranger

 

4

July, 1944

Dear Dad,

Things have been busy here, Dad. We're getting ready to move out in a few hours. I just wanted to write you before we left to clear my mind.

 

We invaded Normandy, and are moving inland toward Berlin as fast as possible. In the wake of that, Intelligence has identified a major stronghold holding our forces from a region near the French-German border.

 

Our troops reported lethal aging and monsters. They have laid the place under siege, but no one has gotten close enough to gather information on the place. Even tanks have been lost trying to get close enough to shell the walls.

 

The project has assembled all of us with the intent on raiding the place and shutting it down. I'm a little worried. I'm the only magician in the three groups. Any spellwork will have to be done by me.

 

I'm worried that I can't handle the massive amount of power needed to clear the troubled area while the rest of the assault force attacks the fortress.

 

We need more information. We don't know anything except the place exists. Attacking blind could be bad for us.

 

We're going to fly over the Channel in two bombers. Fliers will have non-fliers as partners. That's to make sure everyone gets to the ground in one piece.

 

We're to form a circle around whatever structure is at the center of the ring of death. We're supposed to use stealth to get inside and look around. Then we're supposed to wreck things for the Nazis.

 

I'm not thrilled about separating. I would be happier if we stuck together and combined our powers against the front of the place.

 

I would also be happier if we had even a drawing of the place to use for our planning. Too many things can go wrong without even that much useful information.

 

No one knows what the Nazis are using for their defenses. It could be something as simple as a living thought image. It could be something like deadly trees, or plants, killing soldiers with their branches.

 

They could be telling the garrison everything that goes in and out of an extended area. We could be walking into a trap.

 

I want to think that I am worrying for nothing, but we have seen some dangerous magic thrown around in the last three years. I wouldn't be around if not for my friends. On the other hand, I don't think they realize how close things could have expanded into an accidental apocalypse because the German wizard in command had decided to get personal and try to kill all of us in one fell swoop.

 

Luckily, one of us has always been just a little bit faster than the bad guy.

 

I'm sure you understand the nature of magical networks that can be fueled by the type of conflict that I found myself in during the missions.

 

Once we destroy the fort, we're to make our way back to our lines. Easy Company is supposed to be meeting us while they march toward Berlin. Then we're to be extracted, debriefed, and readied to attack another target.

 

Our liaison officer has already indicated we're paving the way for the marching troops. I might not be able to write another letter for a while. I foresee a huge amount of work ahead of us.

 

I wish you were here. Your knowledge of magic and how to apply it could be invaluable. I don't know why you refuse to leave your cabin, but I could use some more experienced help.

 

And I have learned some new tricks during my fighting over here. Experience has taught me variations of the starburst to use. I can even create the solar flare storm now. I perfected it against the German Super Soldiers.

 

You should have seen the look on their faces when I set that off.

 

I have also gained an archenemy among the German wizards. He and his butler have tried to get in the way more than once. I think he's the type to hold grudges.

 

I don't want to think about what will happen when the war is over and we don't get him. He and his flying ship are menaces. I have recommended bombing his monster boat out of the air as soon as it is seen.

 

I don't think anyone took me seriously.

 

I plan to do whatever I can to stop him anytime I see him. He comes across affably, but his whole crew for his ship have been drained of their lives and forced into animation.

 

That kind of thing isn't done. The rules against animating the dead are there for a reason.

 

I think I need to get some sleep. I just saw a black stray in the dark. It's a big dog. It's also sitting out there on the runway.

 

It's grinning too.

 

The barracks have been my home the last few years. I'll miss it when I'm discharged out of the service. Sharing living quarters with five other men is something you have to get used to, but when that's over, it takes some getting used to being alone.

 

It's like moving out of the family home and leaving your family behind.

 

I wonder what will happen to us after the war is over. I can't see the project ending. Superhuman soldiers are just too effective as a fighting force. I can't see the government letting that go.

 

I can see them making their own enforcers to act as heroes to the public. I wonder how well it will turn out.

 

Hopefully better than Frankenstein and his monster.

 

Your son,

David

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csyphrett Grand Master

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Re: Letters from a Stranger

 

5

July, 1944

Dear Mr. Spangler,

I'm writing this letter to inform you of the death of your son, Corporal David Spangler. Normally notification would be done in person, but the only address we have is the post office listed on the next of kin paperwork.

 

Corporal Spangler was killed in action during an assault behind enemy lines. His quick thinking saved the lives of his team at the cost of his own.

 

His body was buried in an explosion that destroyed the enemy facility. Command has decided that recovery would be too expensive at this point in time. Our forces will be in the area in a couple of months. A detail will be assigned to recover his body to be sent to Arlington for burial.

 

I give you my word that this will happen.

 

I wish to express my condolences for your loss. Corporal Spangler was a key part of the successes of our detached duty assignment. Without him, the missions carried out by our platoon would have ended in failure in my opinion. He will be rewarded a silver star posthumously at his burial ceremony for his bravery under fire.

 

The official action report will not be available for civilian reading for some time. The following is a brief account of what happened garnered from the debriefing of the personnel involved.

 

Corporal Spangler's squad was assigned to infiltrate an enemy facility in a classified location. They were to be joined by other members of their platoon to plant explosives to demolish the facility. They were to retreat after the objective had been reached, and join with a company of infantry marching to the area from the south.

 

In the course of the mission, the demolition team was discovered by the facility guards. A fight broke out in the middle of the operating area between elements of the platoon and enemy soldiers. Our platoon was pinned down by heavy fire.

 

Corporal Spangler and his squad finished planting their explosives, then rushed across the facility to help their comrades. They attacked the guards from behind to free up the pinned down members of their platoon to operate.

 

Several extremely dangerous enemy agents arrived with heavy ordinance. They began to fire on the platoon. Three of our men were killed in the first exchange of fire.

 

Corporal Spangler engaged these agents to draw their fire while the rest of the platoon escaped. His men reported that he held his own against them for some minutes.

 

The explosive charges detonated. The facility collapsed under the blasts. Your son was caught in the explosions.

 

The enemy retreated from the destruction temporarily. They hold the ground around the wreckage for the moment. A mission is being planned to recover your son's body.

 

As soon as it has been extracted from the debris, we will send you a notice so that you can file your claim as the next of kin. The body will be flown out of Europe, and handed over to your designated funeral director, or funeral home operator. Paperwork will also be available for your son to be buried at Arlington if you so desire.

 

If we do not hear from you, Mr. Spangler, the army will bury Corporal Spangler at Arlington with full honors.

 

The silver star will be rewarded at a ceremony in front of the White House in the next month or two. When I know the exact date, I will notify you by letter.

 

The death notification unit will help you with anything you might need for this. I will be glad to put you in touch with the nearest case officer to your location in Minnesota if you want.

 

The Army will do everything in its power to recover your son's body from the enemy.

 

I regret that he had to be left behind for the good of his platoon. It was a hard choice. I give you my word that we will clear the debris and send him home to you. I will make sure of that.

 

As a unit detached to military intelligence, your son's record has been classified. No one will ever know what he did during the war. Such things are commonplace, but can be disconcerting when next of kin try to check on their loved ones. Be aware that no one will be able to tell you his record no matter who you ask.

 

The typical ban on records is forty years. And the files are heavily redacted to prevent leakage of information. You may be able to get the full record years after the war is over. I apologize for that.

 

Corporal Spangler served with distinction. He will be missed by his fellow soldiers for his insight on the enemy that we face, his ability, and his knowledge of pertinent information necessary to complete his assigned tasks.

 

Please contact me as soon as possible about arrangements. That will speed things along when we have the body in hand to send home to you.

 

Yours truly,

Colonel Steven Long,

Office of Strategic Services, Project Z

 

Colonel Long,

We were unable to find anyone attached to the post office box where this letter was sent. We have no idea how to contact Mr. Spangler, or any other next of kin that might be living in the area. The post office was completely ignorant of a Spangler family anywhere around.

 

We don't know who has been receiving the letters from Corporal Spangler, or if he even had a father. We will keep our eyes open, but I have low hopes for finding the man.

 

I will keep on it, but I have no idea how to proceed at this time. Maybe something will turn up to point the way.

 

Yours truly,

Sergeant Randall McQuade

Grave Detail, Fort Mead

 

Sergeant McQuade

I have met Mr. Spangler here in England. I don't know how he knew where we were based, or how he flew here without authorization. He arrived shortly after I notified you of the death of his son.

 

He has already made arrangements for the body to be flown back to Minnesota. I would appreciate it if you would meet him on the ground with a detail. He should be arriving in a few hours local time.

 

Corporal Spangler should be buried with full honors. It's the least we can do.

 

Yours truly,

Colonel Steven Long,

Office of Strategic Services, Project Z

 

Colonel Long,

The burial was taken care of today. A local minister handled the service. There was no one there but Mr. Spangler. We presented the flag to him, and were dismissed. I made sure to hand him my card in case he needed it.

 

I will be surprised if he uses it. He gave the impression of never wanting to talk to us again.

 

Yours truly,

Sergeant Randall McQuade

Grave Detail, Fort Mead

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epilogue

The gatherer examined the area with a critical eye. He had been sent out with specific instructions. He was almost in the right place according to the map he had been given.

 

He had seen his share of battles over the years. The scene always looked the same after the fighting was done. All he needed was a pile of bodies laying around to complete the picture.

 

He walked over to the collapsed building. Somewhere in there was what he wanted. Once he was done, he could report back and see a show. The boss was good about work conditions.

 

"Halten." Soldiers appeared in the trees. They leveled rifles at him as they approached.

 

He shook his head. He didn't want to deal with humans. They got in the way. They talked about what they saw. He liked to be invisible and unknown while carrying out his missions.

 

No witnesses was his existing policy.

 

"What are you doing here?" The one sentry pointed his rifle straight at the gatherer's eye. He didn't see anything dangerous in a small man with gray hair, dressed in gray. "This area is restricted."

 

"I'm looking for something." His German was just as good as any other language he wanted to speak at any time. "I would be happy for you to move on."

 

"You will have to return with me to our base camp." The soldier glanced at his comrade. "Our commander will want to talk to you."

 

"No." The gatherer raised his hand. Wind pulled at the soldiers. Mists separated from the soldiers. They fell down. He took the mists and put them in a bottle. "I'm sure you are doing your job, but I am too. I'm sure you understand why I can't allow witnesses to live."

 

He put the bottle away as he walked over to a point next to the collapsed rubble. His goal was somewhere in there. He had to move things if he wanted to get to what he had been sent to find.

 

He exerted a small amount of effort. Mists poured up slightly before returning to the ground. He nodded. That was why he was there after all.

 

He concentrated. Rubble moved out of his way. He pulled out bottles to hold what he had been sent. He had one more bottle than he needed.

 

He called up the mists again. He pulled the thin strands into the bottles one at a time. He smiled as he placed corks in the mouths and sealed the containers with wax that melted itself.

 

He put the bottles in the pockets of his gray coat. He had what he wanted. Now he had to get home.

 

Visions of dancing girls and steins of beer danced in his head. Wings grew out of his back as expanding darkness.

 

He noted something coming. He could feel it on the ether. He didn't want to be seen making his escape. He pulled a tree around him as a shield. As long as he did nothing, the bark and fiber should protect him from detection.

 

Whatever was coming projected more power than he thought he could handle on his own. He wasn't sure even his master could handle what was appearing out of the night. He certainly couldn't.

 

It hurt to admit that but he was a realist. He wouldn't try to snuff out the sun since he knew it was beyond what he could do. Hiding in a tree seemed to be his best course of survival.

 

A human magician appeared with the sound of paper flipping. He looked around, keen eyes digging at the night. His gaze lingered on the gatherer's tree. He gave no sign that he saw the minion hiding under the shell.

 

Or if he did, he didn't care enough to make it an issue.

 

The gatherer didn't like that thought. It put his threat level below a ten year child. He decided to leave with that. His ego would just have to bruise and heal while he was watching the dancing girls.

 

Getting reduced to random ectoplasm was not in his orders.

 

The magician glared at the wreckage. Bodies appeared in the open. He placed one of them in a coffin that appeared out of nothing. The others he placed in bags that danced out of the night. Then the whole assemblage disappeared with the sound of pages being thumbed rapidly.

 

The gatherer breathed a sigh of relief. That had been close. He could have been killed just that easy.

 

He waited until the ether cleared before he split the tree apart and stepped out. He pressed the opening closed so he wouldn't leave anything traceable behind. He looked around the scene one more time.

 

The two dead soldiers looked up at the sky with their empty eyes. The magician hadn't noticed them on the ground. Of course he seemed to be busy recovering what he wanted to pay attention to a semivisible pair of corpses a few feet away from where he was working.

 

His master expected him home with his prizes. He should hurry back before he had more trouble.

 

He raised a hand. The ground covered the two soldiers with dirt and debris from the wreckage. It was an impromptu gesture. He usually wouldn't do such a thing.

 

Maybe he was feeling a little sympathetic right then.

 

He spread his wings. Then he took to the air. He headed toward the heart of Germany. His master would have to move eventually to keep ahead of the Allies. Until then, the chief planned to conduct his business just as he had been.

 

He arrived on the roof of the boss's business a few moments later. He opened the door and went inside. Once he was free of his prizes, he could enjoy the nightlife.

 

"Come in, Wick." The boss's voice drifted to him from below. "Did you get them?"

 

The gatherer folded his wings away as he walked downstairs. There was no flying inside. He paused at the parlor door before entering. Traces of magic drifted in the air. It smelled like onions and old socks.

 

"Of course." The bottles went on the table in front of the boss. The magician picked each up and examined them. He smiled.

 

"Very good." He put the bottles in a cabinet behind him. "You're free until I need you again."

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csyphrett Grand Master

csyphrett

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Re: Letters from a Stranger

 

You do realize that until the late 1960's next of kin of US servicemen killed were notified by telegram, don't you?

And in WWII, US wardead were not shipped home, but were buried overseas?

 

Yes. I glossed over the telegram since it didn't fit the profile and they had no place to send it other than a box at a general store in the middle of nowhere.

CES

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