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Despite his best efforts to psych himself into the job, Kelvin was not looking forward to the ritual. As a respected scientist, getting into an arcane shootout with an unregulated selection of monster hunters, gangsters, and literal children was far from his ideal line of work. But as a famed adventurer, Kelvin had been in riskier situations. Even so, he couldn’t shake the uneasiness. There was a bold line between being an adventurer and being a mercenary. There was an even bolder line between being a scientist and being a mercenary.
Dark clouds swirled over Broadway as Kelvin reflected on his situation. Ordinarily, he should have been ecstatic to witness the second ever Maelstrom in recorded history, but on this afternoon, it only fueled his anticipation of the coming war. It wasn’t just the unruly company that worried Kelvin. He had trouble placing his faith in either of the patrons who were orchestrating the ritual. The Archmother and The Hidden King… what were they fighting over? Was it the astral gate erupting in Central Park? Was that the same astral gate both deities emerged from to begin with? Kelvin’s own experience with an astral gate had left him extremely wary of their nature. Then again, Kelvin couldn’t remember if what he encountered in the arctic was an astral gate anyway. He couldn’t remember what happened to himself and his expedition team at all. He just woke up one day on a fishing boat, his skin cold as ice and veins with no pulse, clutching a mysterious stone sculpture that he refused to let go of. That’s why he needed a wish from those omniscient patrons. They were the only ones who could possibly tell him what happened that day. Kelvin sighed. In hindsight, standing guard at Broadway was a small price to pay for something so important, and at least he wouldn’t be fighting alone. Kelvin straightened himself up and prepared to make a good first impression on his lane partner…
Rumors had spread like wildfire of an escaped convict from Lost Whisper. Lost Whisper, the ultimate prison of occultists, impregnable from within and beyond. What kind of monster had the power to overtake those defenses? No, not a monster, a man. A man, as one story claimed, who was possibly the most skilled occultist in the world, and certainly the most dangerous. A researcher, as another story wrote, who was obsessed with delusions of apotheosis. A murderer, as many said in hushed voices, who shrugged off wards traced by the strongest ritualists alive and turned those poor fools to ash. The greatest arcanists of seven different nations couldn’t keep him dead, so that’s what they took to calling him — Seven.
There, standing no less than ten feet away from Kelvin, was Seven. Of all the people he could possibly be fighting alongside, it just had to be the most wanted man on Earth. Kelvin glared at the specter across the street. A tattered prison uniform still clung to Seven’s body, secured in place by bits of machinery that had once attempted to execute him. A black veil hid his face, but an unearthly electrical glow leaked out from the skeletal visage hidden underneath. Smalltalk was supposed to be one of Kelvin’s fortes, but he didn’t dare say a thing. There was something besides Seven's appearance and reputation that truly held Kelvin’s tongue.
Kelvin once had a friend who was very well-versed in occult studies. He was a bit hot-headed, rather confident, and infectiously ambitious. Although neither Kelvin nor his friend would ever admit it, they had equally large egos. One might assume that the two scholars were rivals due to this shared arrogance, but truthfully they were very close. Closer than many ever knew, in fact. After miraculously returning from his doomed expedition in the arctic, Kelvin rushed to find his friend back in New York City, but he was nowhere to be found. Kelvin had been forced to accept the possibility that his friend perished on that same arctic expedition, though his amnesia barred him from knowing with certainty. Kelvin wondered if a friendship like that would have kept Seven from becoming whatever he was now. If only Ettrick were here.
Kelvin realized all too late that he had been staring at Seven for an uncomfortable amount of time. Seven had most certainly noticed.
“What are you looking at?” Seven growled. His guttural voice crackled like frayed wires. Kelvin swallowed any mounting fear.
“Pardon me, my friend. I just couldn’t help but notice your choice of attire,” Kelvin tried to joke.
Seven responded with an unnerving ha, ha as sparks dribbled from his mouth onto the pavement. “And what is it that you make of me, then?”
“Hm. A criminal — a killer at best,” Kelvin said bluntly. “And clearly, you’re supposed to be dead.”
Seven cackled. His laughter blended with static. “An interesting choice of words given your own circumstances, Kelvin.”
Kelvin furrowed his brow. He wasn’t a fan of the fact that Seven knew who he was, even if his name was often thrown around in occult research circles. He also wasn’t a fan of the fact that he shared some amount of solidarity with Seven for being undead.
“Don’t look so afraid. I have no interest in killing you here,” Seven continued, in his somewhat patronizing cadence. “I have my own wish to fulfill in this ritual, after all. I wouldn’t sabotage our team just to be a sadist.”
Kelvin was getting annoyed by Seven’s tone of superiority. In some sense, it reminded him of how Ettrick used to talk. He detested Seven for having any kind of similarity to someone he once cared about so deeply. Still, Kelvin knew better than to make enemies with a teammate, especially when said teammate could vaporize him if the excuse presented itself. Cynicism was the last thing anyone needed in a situation as unusual as this.
Kelvin sighed. “Well, that’s wonderful to hear. I have a rather important wish to fulfill as well, so don’t let me hold you back either.”
“Very interesting,” rasped Seven. “Satisfy my curiosity, if you would. What could an accomplished scientist like you possibly seek from an extraplanar god?”
“Well, since you asked…” Kelvin walked past Seven, his eyes idly fixed on the street ahead. Perhaps he could bore Seven to death before the ritual even began. Seven made no effort to move from where he stood.
“As I’m sure you already know, I had a rather eventful adventure to the Arctic Circle,” Kelvin started. “But, quite sadly, I can’t seem to remember a single thing about it! Can you imagine that? I went through all that trouble just to die without knowing how it happened!”
“So why haven’t you asked any of your companions what happened?” Seven interjected. Kelvin was prepared to ramble on forever, so the question caught him off guard momentarily.
“I- Well, I couldn’t manage to reunite with any of my team.”
“And why was that?” Seven coldly interrupted again. “Did they all die as well?”
If any of Kelvin’s bodily functions still worked as normal, he would have been sweating — and that was ignoring the fact he was wearing a parka in midtown. Seven wasn’t asking these questions with a genuine curiosity. He was already aware of Kelvin’s story, and he was trying to provoke him with it. Kelvin’s boisterous personality had made a few enemies in his prime, but he shuddered to think that Seven, who he had never met until now, had reasons to taunt him as well. Kelvin tried to rationalize Seven’s behavior in his head.
He’s a dangerous criminal, Kelvin reminded himself. He’s a manipulator. He wants to intimidate me so he can have control over me. At worst, he has some delusional reason to hate my work. Either way, he said he wouldn’t kill me. Whatever threats he makes are empty. Kelvin recomposed himself before he could consider that he was trusting the word of a mass murderer.
“I can’t know for certain if they died, my friend. That’s why I’m here.” He locked eyes stoically with Seven’s daunting, yellow gaze. “I’m going to find out what happened, and I’m going to take responsibility.”
Ha! Another cackle erupted from Seven. “The jokes really never stop with you, do they?”
This comment pierced Kelvin’s facade. “No. I’m being completely serious. I don’t know what kind of assumptions you have about me. You can laugh at me and judge me as much as you want, but I’m doing this for them.”
Kelvin and Seven faced each other as if they were in a standoff. The winds of the Maelstrom howled quietly in the absence of their banter. Kelvin waited for Seven to make the next move, so Seven obliged.
“Is that what you’ve been telling yourself, Kelvin? You went on that expedition chasing knowledge, and you came back not only with none of your questions answered, but with a plethora of new ones to haunt you.” The electric growl in Seven’s voice felt more oppressive than before. “The irony must be tantalizing. Your curiosity must be eating at your every waking moment. And yet, you claim to be more concerned with the fate of your associates than your own. Why? Is it because you’re afraid it was your own hubris that killed them? Is it because you’re desperate to know if they somehow survived like you did? And what then? Do you think they’d just forgive you?! Look at yourself, Kelvin! You are a revenant, a miracle and a curse at the same time. You have become one of the very occult mysteries you’d once obsess over. So don’t kid yourself, Kelvin. You aren’t doing this for them. You’re only here because you need to know what happened to you.”
Kelvin stood there in silence. He didn’t know what he could possibly say in response to that. Part of him wanted to yell back and say that Seven couldn’t ever understand what he’s been through. He wanted to say that he wasn’t a self-serving monster like Seven, and that he wasn’t the same arrogant man he was before the expedition. But Kelvin had to resign and stay silent. He had to accept that Seven was right. He was trying to mask his guilt by convincing himself that he was taking responsibility. In truth, the only thing on his mind was his own undeath. That, and one other thing: if only Ettrick were here.
Kelvin never realized how much he needed Ettrick until he stormed out of that fateful fundraiser. Ettrick was a great advisor to Kelvin. He kept Kelvin’s expectations in check, and in turn, Kelvin was the only one who could dig Ettrick out of his studies. Their partnership was perfect. But when rumors of an eighth astral gate reached the pair, things turned bitter. Ettrick wanted to go with Kelvin and be among the first mortal witnesses to this new Arctic rift, but Kelvin couldn’t let him. Kelvin knew that Ettrick was obsessed with extraplanar magic. To peer into a potentially undiscovered Outer Plane would be the culmination of Ettrick’s entire career. But astral gates are dangerous things. The one in Central Park had obliterated the esteemed Professor Dynamo’s body when he got too close. Another one in the Bermuda Triangle had been spewing out monstrosities for hundreds of years. Outside of that, the Arctic itself was a very practical danger already. Kelvin was too vain to ignore the potential of an expedition, but for Ettrick’s own safety, he couldn’t allow him to come along. This hypocrisy infuriated Ettrick to no end. Kelvin kept planning the expedition alone, selfishly hoping that Ettrick would come to understand his decision, but he never did. The last time they ever saw each other was at the expedition’s fundraising party. Now Kelvin had finally returned home, and the one person he left behind wasn’t even there to welcome him back. He lost everyone on that mission, including himself. Kelvin used his missing memories to cope with Ettrick’s disappearance. He convinced himself that maybe Ettrick did end up coming on that expedition, and that he vanished like the rest of the crew. It was easier to accept than the possibility of Ettrick still being alive and well in New York City, just without Kelvin. How could Kelvin ever apologize if they met again? Seven was completely right. Ettrick would never forgive him.
“Why are you telling me this?” Kelvin said, defeated yet deeply angry. “You said you were here because you needed to win the ritual too, but you’re toying with me like I’m your prey. Are you sure you don’t actually want to kill me?”
A crooked smile twisted around Seven’s face. “I never said I didn’t want to kill you, Kelvin. I only said I wasn’t going to kill you here.”
For the first time in this entire exchange, Seven began to close the distance to Kelvin. Kelvin did everything in his power to stop himself from stepping away. He couldn’t show Seven that he was intimidated. This psycho didn’t deserve his fear.
“As soon as this is over, Kelvin,” continued Seven, “I’m going to relish killing you. I’m going to tear you apart limb by limb. I’ll remind your entire frozen body what pain feels like all at once. And before you can even manage a single plea for mercy, you’ll be nothing but cinders. There will be nothing left of the cold, sad shell you’ve become. I’ll destroy every trace of your filthy legacy.” At this point, Seven was mere inches from Kelvin. Kelvin could feel the intense buzz of electricity flitting out onto his beard as Seven finished his threat. “The true Kelvin has already died. I’m going to give you the fate you really deserved.”
“I don’t even know who you are!” yelled Kelvin. Seven quietly backed off. Kelvin didn’t have much time to process the expression that Seven made, but for a moment, it almost seemed like Seven’s feelings were… hurt? Seven turned his back on the cornered adventurer and walked away. Kelvin waited for him to say something more, and after an uncomfortable silence, Seven did.
“The patron will reveal all.”
Just then, an unearthly sound echoed through the city. The ritual was beginning. Kelvin watched as platoons of small, scampering automatons began to march in from behind the pair. Seven kept his gaze forward. As Kelvin glared once again at the figure standing there with him, an uneasy feeling crept into his soul. He wanted to call out to Seven. He wanted to yell out the name of an old friend, and see his face again when he turned to look. But Kelvin couldn’t do it. No. It was impossible. He wanted to strike himself for even mustering the thought. How could he see the face of a friend in that monster? To compare Ettrick with the likes of that thing was a disgrace to his memory. Their similarities were superficial. In his state of total isolation, Kelvin was just trying to latch onto anything that felt even remotely familiar. Ettrick was a good man. Seven was something else. Kelvin pushed the awful thought into the farthest recesses of his mind where he would never humor it again. The patron would reveal all, like Seven said. If learning the truth meant his execution, then Kelvin was prepared to face it.
Kelvin walked up and matched Seven’s position, keeping a safe amount of distance between them. Neither of them looked at each other, and neither of them said a word. Down the street, another pair of armed fighters were rapidly approaching. Seven and Kelvin both primed their weapons, two dead strangers with nothing to lose and everything to gain. There couldn’t have been a more determined force in all of New York. The ritual would be won that day, no matter the cost.