The Devil’s Fool, Part Three

Continued from Part Two 

Twenty minutes later, Jesse stood on a rooftop wearing the Sword’s silver bronze-age style battle helmet and black tonksium and Kevlar costume. He pulled out his blade from the sheath on his right hip.

The Sword placed his blade on the ground. “Blade, expand!”

The blade grew to roughly the size of a surfboard. The Sword stood on it. “Magnetize!” The blade adhered to his metal-plated boots. “Blade, head Southeast.”

The blade flew through the air. The Sword grimaced. Man, he hated this mode of transit. Too conspicuous. And even with his boots magnetized to the blade, all too easy to lose his balance and end up dangling upside down. Note to self: call mechanic tomorrow morning and see how long it’ll be until the Sword Car is fixed.

The Sword pulled from his belt a beacon tracker and followed Mystic’s signal to the Leonard Swartz Federal Building. The Sword landed his blade on the sidewalk of the ten-story gray stone building, and pressed down on the handle with his boots.

The blade returned to normal size. The Sword scooped up the weapon and peered at the tracker. Second floor.

He pointed his blade towards the second floor, pressed the handle, and held on with both hands as it took him airborne.

A moment later, he landed on the second story ledge. The Sword sheathed his blade and pulled a small, round listening device out of his belt. It attached to the wall and followed the Sword’s path along the ledge. How some of the people in the business managed without any technology at all was beyond him.

After more than ten windows, he let out an exasperated sigh. Nothing, not even the hum of machines working on standby. Most of the office must be totally vacant.

A young man said, “Carden, why isn’t this demon coming out?”

A middle-aged man replied, “The man wants it there.”

The Sword frowned. Of course Dark Mystic needed Jalzabel. The demon gave him powers that had allowed Dark Mystic to save the Sword’s bacon more times than he could count.

The Sword stopped outside the window and unsheathed his blade. The tip emitted a blue flame, cutting through the glass, which shattered onto to the floor inside. The Sword leaped through the opening and landed in a vacant office.

An alarm sounded. He ignored it and opened the oak door. Another door sat opposite, with heavy security. A middle-aged man and a young man, each with a cup of coffee, walked up the hallway. Hopefully, Carden and company.

The younger man gasped. “The Sword!”

He held out his blade. “In the flesh.   Now, take me to Mystic.”

At the younger man’s questioning glance, the elder sighed. “It’s okay. We weren’t getting far with the demon.”

The Sword said, “You in charge?”

The elder nodded.

“Cancel the alarm.”

The elder pulled out a remote and pressed a button. Silence.

The Sword pointed at the door across the hall. “Open it.”

The elder slid his card through a card reader and pushed the door open.

Inside, Dark Mystic lay chained to a table beneath a Gothic cross. The Sword pressed a button on his blade and released it. The blade flew from his hands and sliced Dark Mystic’s bonds. Dark Mystic rose from the gurney.

The Sword turned to Mystic’s captors. “Now, how about you tell me what you’re doing in a federal building?”

The elder reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a badge. “Carden Geneseve, Supernatural Intelligence Bureau.”

The Sword blinked. “I’ve never heard of you before.”

Agent Geneseve smiled. “We exist by other names in other places.” A frown eclipsed the smile. “You’re making a big mistake. This man can’t be trusted. He’s possessed.”

Dark Mystic growled. “I’ll have to call the ACLU about you.”

Geneseve laughed. “First time I’ve had a demoniac threaten me with the American Civil Liberties Union. Regardless, our budget is classified, and we’re currently headquartered in the district of the chairman of the House Intelligence Appropriations Subcommittee.”

Dark Mystic chortled. “You have friends in high places, I see.”

“Oh, much higher than that.”

“Regardless, I am who I am; I don’t need you to save me.”

“Very well. Can’t free a man who wants to be enslaved, or make a man who shuts his eyes see the truth.” Geneseve waved to the door. “Go, but we will meet again. Under far less pleasant circumstances, I fear.”
Continued…Next Monday

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