The Chosen Few

Ross parked quite a distance away from where he was headed, and walked the rest of the way. He didn’t want to attract excessive attention to himself or his destination. He stopped outside an abandoned theatre; which - from the look of it - had been abandoned a long, long time ago. There wasn’t a surface that wasn’t coated with profane graffiti or flyers. In several places, there were stains that looked suspiciously like urine. Ross walked over to the double doors, which were relatively clean compared to the rest of the building. He knocked on the door, twice slowly, then three times rapidly. A small section of the door slid open to reveal someone on the other side.

‘Yeah?’ Said the voice, which was slightly muffled because of the door, ‘Who is it?’



‘Ross. Ross Townsend. I need to speak with the Adepts.’



The door opened inwards, and Ross sauntered in. On the other side of the door were two heavy set men, who looked prime bodyguard material, with their shaved heads, snarling faces, and tattoos which had become misshapen as wrinkles had formed over the years. They led him through the theatre. Though the lobby was in a state of neglect through lack of use and vandalism, the auditorium and stage were in perfect condition, with no dust anywhere at all, looking as if it had only just been cleaned. The seats were a dark red, as were the walls, with intricate black pillars inset in the walls. He was guided down some stairs, towards his final destination.



****



Meanwhile, in the basement of the theatre, the Chosen Few debated. They were the highest members in the cult, and were much stronger and more powerful than they looked. Though none of them looked more than 35, they were all hundreds of years old. Over the years, their leader had noted their dedication to the cause, and they had risen up the ranks to become the ones who wielded the most power. All nine of them were seated on elaborately made chairs which- like those that sat on them- were centuries old.

The Chosen Few were talking amongst themselves when there was a loud knock at the door. It was locked and bolted on their side, and had two guards on either side to ensure their safety. The Chosen Few stopped their conversation as one of the guards went over to the large intercom and listened for a moment. After apparently hearing confirmation from the intercom, he signalled to the other guard, who then drew back the catches and unlocked the door. The door swung open, and anyone who had still been talking, stopped and looked at the person who had been allowed to enter their inner sanctum.

Ross stepped in through the door, and they all recognised him, for it was them who had sent him to raze the hospital. They barely acknowledged his presence, and there was an uneasy silence in the room. All of a sudden an unseen voice spoke:



‘Welcome back, Ross. Has your task been completed?

Even before Ross could reply, the others in the room knew he had. They could sense the power he had recently acquired, and feared it. They shifted uneasily on their chairs.



‘It has. No-one survived.’ Ross could now see where the voice was coming from. On the other side of the room was a large video monitor. On it was a human silhouette. Above the monitor was a small web cam, which, from its position could see all that happened in the room.



‘Good. Are you prepared for what you must now do?’ The voice asked.



‘Yes.’ Ross replied, with conviction.

The Adept at the head of the table signalled for one of the guards to go over to Ross. He then handed over a small, highly decorated box-almost ostentatious in design. The guard walked over to Ross, opened the box, and handed it to him. Ross looked inside tentatively. Within the box were two small daggers. They had a dragon on the handle covered with emeralds, which looked as if it was attempting to swallow the burnished black blade. Ross reverently picked up one of the daggers, and stared at it, transfixed. He knew what he had to do.

Before he could do anything, the voice spoke. ‘As a faithful servant of the Chosen Few, you have performed all that was asked of you to further the cause, no matter what the risk to yourself. Do you have a final request?’



Ross replied after a moments thought; ‘Can I ask two things?’



‘Very well. If they are reasonable, I will grant you what you ask.’ In previous situations, there had been many requests. Most asked for something noble, such as ensuring their family would be financially secure, others asked for their family to be brought into The Chosen. There was only one request that had never been granted. ‘Spare me.’ Only five people had ever asked for it, the rest had been unwaveringly dedicated to the cause. Those who asked for it were killed nonetheless.



‘What became of the surgeon whose place I took in the operating theatre? I presumed it was not coincidence that he failed to turn up. I had presumed that you had dealt with him, but I didn’t know whether I would have had to deal with him myself.’



‘He was distracted by one of The Chosen masquerading as a prostitute. He was tranquillised, and currently is held at the Kent chapter. Your other question?’



‘I…if you will permit me, I would like to see your face one last time.’



‘I will grant you your final request.’



All eyes turned to the monitor, which suddenly revealed their leader’s face. He looked no older than 30, with youthful and attractive features, but also had an aura about him which commanded total respect and obedience.

‘Are you satisfied?’



‘Yes.’ Ross said, breathlessly as a tear ran down his cheek. He had devoted his life to serving this man, and had seen his face only once before. He would gladly do anything for him.



He turned his attention back to the box he held in one hand, and the dagger he held in the other. If he had even the slighted inclination not to carry on, with his newfound strength he could easily kill the two guards and make a break for freedom. However, he did not. He gripped the dagger, breathed in sharply, then stabbed himself in the eye.



He was not prepared for the intensity of the pain he felt, but quickly regained his composure. He would need to be focussed if he was going to be able to continue. He picked up the second dagger, paused a moment, then plunged the dagger into his other eye. Though the pain was excruciating, he composed himself, and managed to stay on his feet. His beloved leader motioned to the Adept closest to Ross, who picked up the knife in front of him, walked over to Ross, and slit his throat.



Ross fell to the floor, a guttural gurgle coming from his throat. His body stopped moving, and a small stream of blood still trickled from his eyes and throat.



As soon as Ross died, the Adept and their leader convulsed much as Ross had when the hospital exploded, though theirs was not as extreme. After a few seconds, they stopped and their leader said calmly; ‘That concludes the business for tonight.’ His image disappeared, and was replaced by the silhouette.