Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1 - PROLOGUE
"Is everything in place?" a low voice spoke, sounding crackly with the interference.
"I thought you didn't believe me?" the voice of a woman replied, with somewhat amusement.
"I know, but I felt duty-bound to help Gauis,"
"There's no use in lying to your sister. You like him, don't you? You like watching him,"
"Ha! Don't be ridiculous, he's a complete idiot."
"Yes and he's probably going to end up getting killed,"
There was a short pause before the man brought himself to reply again, "For some reason, Gauis believes he's the one,"
"Do you actually believe he's the one?"
"No of course not!"
"Then, do you think Gauis is a liar?"
"No, I'm calling you a fool," the voice retorted.
Suddenly, there was a faint guttural sound in the background which sounded oddly mechanical.
"Did you hear that?" he whispered apprehensively.
"Hear what?"
"Are you sure this line is clean?"
"Yes of course I'm sure"
"..."
"..."
"I think... I better go,"
"Good luck, "
* * * *
Several beams of light were scouring the dark, dank hallways inside of what looked like a run-down hotel. The leading figure of the group (there were about 10 of them) made sure to usher the other fire-armed operatives in his direction.
He motioned and pointed his torch at the door of a room numbered 303.
"FREEZE POLICE!" he shouted, kicking down the door violently, "PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR! NOW!" the other operatives followed him in, filling up the small dingy room in little time at all.
All torches, guns and eyes were fixated on one individual facing the wall in front of them. He was a man dressed from head to toe in black. His outfit incorporating a pair of skinny trousers matched with a shiny leather jacket.
Despite the hysteria of the situation the man had found himself in, he didn't react or even say anything as he raised his hands up slowly and submissively.
One of the operatives, keeping his eyes on the man, put a hand to his earpiece, "They're sending the witchfinders up," he told their captain.
"What?" The captain gawked in surprise, "Can't they trust us to deal with a single guy?"
"Apparently not,"
Taking advantage of their slight distraction, the single man noticed one of the men getting too close to him, apparently trying to handcuff him. With the speed and predatory nature of a praying mantis, he grabbed his arm then flipped him over before stamping on top of his head to knock him out.
The other guys rushed towards him, yelling.
In response, he kicked a chair at a few of them, launching their bodies into a wall. Their screams and the sickening sound of bones crunching and internal organs rapturing sent the rest of them into a panic. Letting a swarm of bullets loose on the man as a last resort, they charged at him, but like some kind of bizarre punk-stylised warrior monk, he ran up the side of the wall dodging them easily with lightning speed. Then he grabbed another operative, using them as a human shield, snatching their gun to mow the remaining operatives down.
"I'm about as good as dead now," He muttered to himself darkly. Quickly dialing a number, he placed a flip phone to his ear, "Gauis, somehow they traced the line, the witchfinders are coming for me,"
"I know,"
"What do I do!?"
"There's little time before they come, you need to find another exit,"
"Where's the nearest one?"
"In the next apartment,"
"Right,"
"I know you can make it Arthur," The voice replied, "Now go!"
Arthur hung up abruptly, stuffing the phone into his pocket before sprinting out of the room into the hallway, he could hear the footsteps of the witchfinders quickly closing in behind him. He flew around a corner, narrowly missing bullets, before reaching a metal stairway then climbed up six flights that reached the flat rooftop of the hotel.
Without stopping for breath, he legged it, dodging left and right, using the chimneys as shields against the further gunshots chasing him. Then, without a moment of hesitation, he leaped across the width of a street before diving into the window of a random apartment headfirst.
Laying on the ground dazed for a second, a granny in her sitting room screeched at him. He couldn't waste any more time. He forced himself to move towards her telephone, he could hear it ringing. Arthur snatched the phone, panicking as he picked it up noticing the granny had already morphed into a witchfinder.
Arthur recognised that face bitterly.
As Agent Uther pulled the trigger, Arthur vanished just in time, letting the bullet embed itself in the wall behind where he previously stood.
Uther stood silently for a little while, before the other witchfinders gathered up behind him. One of them came up to him,
"You let him get away," they drawled, listlessly.
"It doesn't matter if the informant is a real one," Uther replied, his voice cold and smooth like ice.
"Yes,"
"We have the name of their next target?"
"Yes my lord, the name is Merlin,"
"We need to search for him,"
"The search has already begun,"
"Good,"