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 Post subject: Walker's Story Fanfiction
PostPosted: Wed Jan 16, 2013 7:58 am 
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Joined: Wed Jan 16, 2013 7:01 am
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This is by no means my property and is merely only fan respect and fanfiction. Please note that this story is only fanfiction and the characters involved are not mine in any way. This is merely a fanfiction from the perspective of Henry Walker. If you guys like it, let me know. If not, definitely let me know. If you guys like it though, I'll keep working on similar fan-fics in my spare time; possibly more than that for Walker's story.

Nightside: Walker's Story








Welcome to the Nightside, where it’s always 3 A.M. The night never ends, and the neon lights blaze a trail of colors miles long. The Nightside, where Gods and Monsters walk side by side, and you can find anything your mind can think of; even a few things that you didn’t think possible. You can sell your soul, or someone else’s, for the right price.
The Nightside, where heroes are broken and tragedies happen every five seconds.
I’d nuke the whole sick freak Show, if the Powers that Be would let, but they won’t.
I serve the Authorities; those faceless, grey men who run the Nightside, in as much sense as anyone. I am their Will manifested, their enforcer, and all the other things in between. I have done my job since Hadleigh Oblivion, the Detective Inspectre, trained me.
I do not do Good and Evil. These concepts are meaningless to my position as a functionary.
I maintain the status quo. My job is to ensure that nothing interferes with the businesses and deals the Authorities have been made. I am not the first in my duties, nor undoubtedly will I be the last. Nor do I plan on ensuring that I am the greatest of them all.
My name is Walker, and this is my story.



1967-1975: Where it all Begins
I was staring in shock and horror. My body, my mind, numb. How could it have happened? We were so close to something so powerful. No, we weren’t, I reminded myself. Something terrible had happened. The factory we were using, once rotted out, but nonetheless practical for the application we needed it for, was a ruin of shot out windows and ruined doorways. Fire lined the area, and the stench of feces burning on the wind was but faint.
Mark, a young man with great skills of finding rare and valuable items, was naked next to me on my left side. He was shocked just as much as I was. Poor Mark, he was a brilliant soul in those days, and it had been his idea to perform this undertaking. What would have been our crowning achievement. He was dumbfounded and shaking.
Charles looked onward. Young, he was a brilliant scholar and his research and theories had earned him a high reputation among the Authorities. All three of us worked for the Authorities in those days. He had rough features, but that roguish characteristic had defined his appearance. He regarded what we did with the same shock and awe that Mark and I felt, but I saw the gears turning in his head.
Mere weeks ago we had been three idealistic young men. Mark had found a piece of rare literature supposedly from Allistair Crowley himself, known in certain circles as the Mad Sorcerer, and the Most Evil Man in the World, if you believed most of the rumors, which, we didn’t. We lived in the Nightside. Legends and Myths walked amongst us regularly. We were going to change the way things were. I was going to fight the Establishment. Charles, Mark, and I were going to set the way for a new age of enlightenment and peace in the age of Aquarius. Mark’s plan was known as the Babylon Working. The idea was that it was to bring us the definition of power we had sought. But…something went wrong.
We didn’t know what at the time. We couldn’t have known. What we did know that what we did needed to be hidden. The three of us couldn’t afford to have this reach us. However…it seemed three friends weren’t meant to be. Charles broke the silence and fear we all felt.
“We need to tell someone, we need to warn people of what we possibly unleashed…” His voice was frail, weak. We had spent a week naked, chanting, constantly, dancing and embracing a power older than we were possibly able to understand. His voice was broken and harsh, he needed water. I wish I had had it on me at the time; maybe he would have thought straighter, acted more…sensibly.
“There’s nothing to tell,” Mark said with a grimace as the pain finally settled into the three of us at once. “We stumbled across this mess, and happened to get caught up in the way of it.”
I couldn’t disagree with the logic. We had our careers to consider. We had to make a living. “He’s not wrong,” I said with my own voice being just as ragged as theirs. “Charles, this would reflect very badly on us…” I warn him.
“Reflect nothing, the Authorities will have our balls on a plate!” Mark demands harshly, and I can tell that the sheer idea of what we’d done was finally taking its toll on him. But Charles surprised us both.
“I don’t care. I’d rather have my balls served up on a platter to the Authorities, and have them know what they are possibly up against. We might possibly have unleashed something that could destroy everything!” Mark and I exchanged a look and I felt heavy dread in my heart.
And Fear.
You have to understand, things were different than they were then. While the ideals of the 60’s were something that I personally clung to dearly, I had my own life to consider. I had a career to consider and a living to make. Mark as well had much to consider in that regard. We couldn’t afford to lose all that we had worked to gain thus far. We were high in the Authorities regards at the time, at the time it was better to be a pet, than part of the sick freak show that surrounded us. We left, each of us dispersing separately.
I went back to a private apartment I had set up for myself, unknown to Charles and Mark. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust them. I didn’t trust certain Powers and Dominations in the Nightside, and if the research the three of us had ever engaged in comprised us, I didn’t want the risk. I have always felt the need to have a backup plan. It wasn’t much, just a simple flat, with a bedroom, eat-in kitchen, and a small television. I had a rotary dial phone because back then it was much less complicated to hack phone lines and bug them. After I entered my apartment and locked the doors, I breathed a heavy sigh, and made my way to the bathroom. Everything was as it should have been. I kept the barest of essentials that I would need in the apartment. I had a separate life outside of the Nightside, a world I had been born into.
The Sane World.
After a thorough shower I got dressed in comfortable clothing and sat down at my eat-in kitchen and had something to eat, a simple snack, though I can’t remember what at the time. I sat there, thinking, about how sore I was, how tired I was. I thought about Charles and Mark and considered what the three of us had tried to do, and it put things into perspective for me. I didn’t want my life threatened in such a way. And I didn’t want to try something like that. Instead it started to make more sense that if I wanted to change the Authorities, I needed to gain a higher position. Some things started to make sense to me. When I was about to make a decision, that was when my rotary phone rang loudly, breaking my concentration.
I rose and approached it, picking up the phone. Very few had the phone number. “Hello,” I said, because I was too tired to ask who it was immediately.
“Henry, we need to talk.” Mark’s voice was cold and serious. I could tell. My heart hammered in my chest. Had he done something to Charles?
“Mark, is everything alright?” I ask him courteously, concerned. I can tell that something is bothering my friend, its in the coldness of his voice.
“No, Henry. Its Charles. He’s not abandoning his campaign. He’s insisting that we tell the Authorities what we tried to do,” I tried to ignore the words, tried to make them go away. But I couldn’t. I knew that it wouldn’t work. I knew that I had to ensure that Charles didn’t tell the Authorities. I knew then that I had to protect myself. I knew that I had to do whatever was necessary to protect my own status quo, to protect what I had worked for.
“Have you tried talking to him, Mark? Is he not going to listen to reason?” I asked, trying to see if there was anything that could be done. I didn’t want to hurt my friend, one of my best friends. But I had to consider my own future.
“Yes! But he is being a right stubborn arse! He’s insisting that what we did was wrong!” He was ready to explode, his voice was a whisper of anger.
“Well, he isn’t wrong there, Mark,” I told him somewhat more sternly than I meant and something changed in Mark’s voice.
“…Maybe. But we need to do something, Henry. We have to stop Charles.” He was…frantic. There was real fear in Mark’s voice. He just wanted to forget the whole affair and move on with his life, his next project. I did too. I needed too. We had done something, but we didn’t understand.
“I’ll try talking to him. If I can’t make him see reason, than we’ll do something about it,” I told Mark and hung up the phone. I considered the situation and sighed. Charles, why? Why did you have to insist on preaching to the world? I remember thinking to myself that we couldn’t change the world. And it was then that it dawned on me that we couldn’t. We needed to be a part of the system to ensure that we didn’t get trampled on by it. Because if we told the Authorities what we’d done, we’d be three faces who were never known. Everything that we had worked for would be ruined, and I didn’t want that. For any of us.
But looking bad, and I am ashamed of it to say, I was more concerned about myself.
I waited a couple of days before I called Charles. When I called, it was evening time. Charles answered the phone as he usually did, distracted by research. “Yuh?” He asked, his voice distracted as usual when engrossed in research.
“Charles, its Henry, how are you holding up?” I asked politely and courteously to one of my oldest friends.
“Fine, but I’m busy at the moment Henry. Something you need?” He asked me. I knew what he was doing. I didn’t need to be standing in front of him.
“Charles, let this nonsense go. The Babylon Working failed. Nothing happened. Just let it rest, and we can move on with our lives.” I tried to be straightforward and diplomatic. He was my friend. He was a good man, but he was jeapordizing everything.
“I can’t, Henry. I need to know what we did.” He wasn’t distracted then. He was paying full attention to me.
“Why?” I asked him.
“Because, if the research I’ve done is true…we’ve unleashed something terrible on the Nightside, Henry. And we need to be sure that the Authorities are warned.” He wanted to do the right thing. But the right thing would see us all killed.
“I’m asking you not to do this, Charles,” I said, my voice pleading.
“I’m sorry Henry. I have to do this. If you’re my friend, you’re going to support me. I’ve told Mark the same thing.”
I hung up.

A months later, Mark and I began hearing things from associates and colleagues about Charles Taylor’s investigations. We heard about the research, he was asking questions about rituals that he had no business knowing about. Mark and I were at the Hawkes’ Wind and Bar Grille, and we made a simple plan. Mark and I agreed that Charles couldn’t be allowed to tell people what we did. We had our careers to consider. We had to stay afloat, or the Nightside would tear us apart. And on the off chance that we did unleash something, we needed to not be known as the ones that did it. Our reasons had been stupid, and we needed to forget it.
I wanted no harm to come to Charles. He was my oldest friend…but I was so angry with him. Mark was too. We couldn’t understand why Charles had to upset the Status Quo. Why…and it occurred to us then what we had to do. It was simple. We wouldn’t kill him, no. He was our oldest and dearest friend. But we couldn’t be ruined. So Mark and I devised a simple solution and a most diplomatic one, given the environment. We spread a whispering smear campaign. We spread rumors at the Londoninium Club, at the Hawkes Wind and Bar; we spread whispers amongst the Authorities agents. The rumors were simple. The burned out warehouse that we had used was part of research that Charles had been investigating on his own private funds, and had caused the whole mess. We made it look like Charles fault by planting the right suggestions in the right ears.
It didn’t take long. After the rumors got around, Charles realized he would never have a chance in the Authorities. So rather than take the risk of the Authorities retribution, he retired, and supported himself on private research. He worked with Mark for a few years. By then however…Mark and I realized we had ruined a man’s life. We’d taken away his reputation and his livelihood, and yet, we didn’t care. All we cared about was ourselves and the fact that we were safe.
After the whispering campaign…we all went our separate ways, and I watched Charles Taylor simply shake his head in disappointment and betrayal at Mark and I the last time we saw him.
And it hurt. Every fiber of my being, though I wouldn’t have admitted it then.
Mark eventually went on to begin finding rare and valuable items, performing jobs for the Authorities, and I worked my way up their ranks, enforcing the laws the Authorities sent out through the various diplomatic missions they required. Eventually, I was apprenticed…to another individual. He was the Authorities Man, the man who represented the Authorities.
He was Walker, and his name was Hadleigh Oblivion.



To be continued....?


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