The Coming From the Shadows Series
The Imperium Chronicles: The Mystery Fighter of Leeds
Back-Ground:
Organising in Carlisle – the Anti-Cultist movement had begun to gain its momentum; since 1889 – Cathryn Langdon had been influencing individuals like Xian with her skill and determination to fight a war that was unknown to many – so few realised that within the shadows; the Imperium operated, it operated as a unifying voice of various different Cultist groups since Ancient times – influencing Kings and Queens; deceiving and pushing for more poverty and chaos to maintain their power within the darkness of shadows.
Cathryn, a victim of an attack in her childhood grew to become a determined and fierce fighter – she could not stand back, regardless of societies norms; she would fight back, such actions began to inspire – now; from their small safehouse in Carlisle – a temporary safe-haven, the group organised – Cathryn, her Twin Daughters; Elizabeth and Lydia, her adopted daughter; Norina, along with a figure simply known as ‘The Monk’ met with Damir and Xian – they organised their next move; Damir would accompany Xian to Leeds, they had a target to take out and information to gather – they didn’t hesitate, they left to accomplish their goal – anything to disrupt the Imperium’s operations and influence.
Introduction:
15th of March, 1910 A.D.
Leeds, England
The air crackled with tension and unrest – a chill wind blew through the streets carrying the scent of coalsmoke and the angry shouts of the men gathering outside of a factory; this factory, owned by a powerful Businessman; George Smythe, the leader of the Cult of the Minotaur – one of the many Cultist groups within the Imperium had become a scene of unfolding chaos.
The crowd, a tide angry workers, their faces etched with hardship and fuelled by growing resentment; within the crowd stood two figures; One was Damir – he was a burly man in his mid-twenties, his thick Serbian accent with the grit of the Balkans cut through the roared slogans of defiance his words were carefully chosen, purposely inciting the righteous anger of the crowd, igniting the collective indignation.
The other was Xian; a wiry Manchurian from the Great Qing – he had a burning intensity within his eyes as he weaved through the crowd, subtly guiding their rage, his movements were precise, economical.
“They steel the food from your children’s mouths!” Damir bellowed; his voice hoarse “Line their pockets with the very wealth you make them with your blood and sweat!; Are you Men, or are you servile dogs!”
The crowd roared in response; a wave of fury erupted as they began to surge forwards; Xian, his attention now in Damir’s direction gave a barely perceptible nod; he signalled to Damir – it was time.
On the periphery of the chaos that was unfolding stood a strange figure that silently observed – he was an anomaly; riddled in strange clothing, he wore modern pants with sturdy boots, but over them flowed a multi-layered robe, hinting of a life lived far from the mills and working conditions of Leeds; over the top of his chest he wore body-armour, it looked to still be some kind of experimental design for the time; a Kodachi Japanese Short-sword rested on his back while a Kukri knife peeked from the back of his waist, and a German Mauser C96 was holstered at his hip – This, was Astor, a silent observer in the rising storm.
Chapter 1
11th of March, 1910 A.D.
The streets of Leeds were a far cry from his homeland in Serbia; but, Damir had learned to adapt, he had experienced so many different places since joining the fight against the Imperium, travelling from Serbian to the lands of the Ottoman Empire, from the mountains of the Himalayans to the jungles of Siam, from the deserts of Egypt to the cold and grime of England – he’d experienced so many differing cultures, learned so many different things – it was one of the many things that made the life easier.
He and Xian had arrived recently into Leeds; they knew their target, and they knew it wouldn’t be easier to reach him; he operated on behalf of George Smythe; ran a factory, and that was were they needed to get too.
Identifying the simmering tension of the local workers; Xian and Damir would target that for what they needed.
Within the unusual peaceful environment of the pub; they met with the leaders of the Factories Union – the air was with cigarette smoke and the simmering frustrations – these men were weary and disillusioned, spoke of dwindling wags and unsafe conditions – the callous indifference of their management “We’ve tried everything” a burly man called Henry said, his voice heavy with despair “Petitions, negotiations; Smythe simply ignores us”
Leaning forwards; Damir’s eyes gleamed with a calculated fervour “Perhaps” he began, his voice low “It is time for more direct action; a show of force that Smythe can’t ignore”
The Union leaders exchanged hesitant glances; a Strike would be a risky proposition – it would potentially leave them without an income, but, Damir could sense their desperation; he pressed the advantage, spoke of solidarity, of the power of collective action, of the need to stand up against injustice; his words, like expertly placed explosives, chipped away at the doubts – in the end, it was agreed – a Strike would be called.
As Xian and Damir walked away from the pub “The strike is a good start” Xian said; his voice was low but firm “But it is not enough; what we need is to reach Charles; he is the foreman of that factory, we need to incite violence”
Damir slowly nodded in agreement “That should be easy; police will be eager, we can take advantage of that”
Unbeknownst to the pair though; they had been under observation; a pair of eyes watched their every move from the shadows; a robed figure with his face hidden beneath a hood.
Chapter 2:
Within the opulence of his office; Charles, a man with a perpetually greasy hairstyle and condescending smirk sat behind his desk; he was the overseer of Smythe’s factory, he was a cruel and efficient instrument of the Cult of the Minotaur – he was startled when the door of his office creaked open.
Standing in the doorway was Astor; a hooded figure that moved with an unsettling grace, his presence just filled the room with a sense of foreboding, Charles felt a prickle of unease despite efforts to remain calm “Astor” Charles greeted, he forced a smile
Astor remained silent, his gaze fixed on Charles as he approached the table, his boots landed like soft thuds against the polished wooden floor; when he stopped, his eyes narrowed “Xian and Damir have arrived here in Leeds” Astor finally spoke, his voice was a low rumble “You should be prepared
Charles simply scoffed “Prepared?” he shook his head “Prepared for what?; a couple of rabble-rousers, please Astor; I have more pressing concerns” he gestured around the office, implying his importance “Besides, you’re here aren’t you; that is after all why the Imperium pays you, you’re here to protect me”
Astor’s eyes glinted beneath the shadow of his hood “I am not part of your Imperium Charles; I am under no obligation to protect you from these…, Anti-Cultists”
Charles leaned back in his chair with a wide grin “Ah…, but you will, won’t you; you enjoy the challenge, the dance of violence; you wouldn’t miss this kind of an opportunity” he chuckled “The thrill of testing your skills against formidable opponents”
Astor’s silence was his answer; he would play his part, but not out of loyalty or obligation; he was driven by something else, something Charles couldn’t comprehend.
Chapter 3:
15th of March, 1910 A.D.
The scene outside of the factory had descended into a chaotic fervour fuelled by Damir’s rhetoric and Xian’s subtle manipulations; workers surged forwards towards the gates; Police, baton’s raised, struggled to maintain order “It’s time” Xian said, his voice barely audible within the roar of the crowd “We need toe escalate things”
Damir grinned; there was a predatory glint to his gaze; he launched a rock at the police; it struck one who stumbled backwards; within seconds, the crowd followed Damir’s example – the stone sparked the powder keg of resentment; a crowd erupted into anger, a hail of stones and debris rained down on police.
Damir and Xian exchanged looks and nodded before quickly departing, finding a way to gain entry to the factory interior through a side entrance cracked open by the rioters.
Using the unfolding chaos; Xian and Damir slipped within the factory; they navigated the corridors with practised ease; their senses were on high alert, they knew Charles would be somewhere and most likely heavily guarded, but, the riot outside provided a welcome distraction.
Finally, they reached the main office – the door, which was locked; Damir didn’t hesitate, he threw his foot forwards into a kick, splintering the wood around its lock gaining them entry.
The office though was empty, but papers lay scattered across the desk, ripe for the taking.
As they began examining documents; Damir’s keen eye caught a flicker of movement in the doorway; he looked up, he saw standing in the doorway a silent sentinel; Astor “Xian!” Damir hissed, drawing his attention
Xian’s eyes landed on the figure; he recognised Astor as a threat immediately; pulling a knife from beneath his jacket he looked towards Astor “Where is Charles?” Xian demanded, his voice cold
Astor though; remained silent, his hands clasped casually behind his back – he simply stepped forwards.
Without getting a response; Xian simply lunged forwards, he would force the stranger to answer him – the knife flashed out as he made his move.
Astor; his eyes fixed on Xian’s movement, moved with ease, despite the look of his bulky attire; he moved too quickly; weaving around Xian’s attack and his hand shot out – he jabbed Xian in the ribs, the touch was light, almost limp – yet, Xian felt a searing pain shoot through his side as he stumbled backwards.
Astor then returned his hands behind his back; his gaze turning to Damir who was now moving towards him.
Chapter 4
Damir charged at Astor – his fists clenched and his face contorted into a snarl, he threw a right hook, he aimed for Astor’s head; but Astor had already moved, weaving under the punch, his movements were fluid and effortless – then as he straightened, delivered a swift elbow strike against Damir’s face, it sent Damir stumbling to the side.
Before Damir could recover; Xian was upon Astor again, his knife was a blur of motion; Astor ducked beneath the lade, avoiding a potentially lethal strike; straightening up, his hand flashed out, scattering a cloud of fine powder into Xian’s face – the powder stung Xian’s eyes, momentarily blinding him – taking advantage of Xian’s disorientation, Astor delivered a powerful pushing kick into Xian’s chest – it sent him backwards, crashing into a bookshelf.
Damir, finally recovering from the elbow strike lunged yet again; Astor simply sidestepped before landing a precise punch to Damir’s stomach before spinning in a rapid motion and arching his leg around into a roundhouse kick striking the back of Damir’s head and sending him sprawling to the floor.
Astor returned to his relaxed stance; his gaze turning to Xian who was struggling to clear his eyes; despite the irritation, Xian pulled a revolver from the holster on his waist – raising it up, he pointed towards Astor, pulling the trigger.
With a quick movement, Astor flicked his wrist, he sent a throwing knife whistling through the air that struck Xian’s wrist just as he pulled the trigger disrupting his aim; a loud bang rang out, the bullet whizzed past Astor who’d adjust his position slightly t account for the change in Xian’s aim, the bullet narrowly missed him.
Astor shook his head; there was a hint of disappointment to his voice “Such a waste; I expected better” he murmured
Xian and Damir; realising they were outmatched exchanged desperate glances, they decided to then charge together hoping to overwhelm him with a combined assault.
Astor responded with calculated precision; sidestepping Damir’s attack and using his own momentum to his advantage, grabbing Damir’s wrist and quickly flinging him directly into Xian sending both men crashing to the ground.
Astor then stepped back; it created an opening for their escape; he knew that neither of them was his primary target – he wanted them to lead him were he wanted to go.
Seizing the opportunity; Xian and Damir scrambled to their feet and bolted for the door, neither realising Astor had deliberately allowed their escape.
Astor casually walked from the office, watching their retreat; he knew where they would go next, and he would follow.
With the fight at an end; Charles finally emerged; his face flushed with anger “Why did you allow them to escape!” he demanded; his voice rising into a shrill pitch “They are a danger we need to eliminate!”
Astor didn’t even look at him, though his eyes glinted beneath the shadow of his hood “I know where they are going; it will work to my advantage” he said, his voice calm and unnerving
Written By: Westley H.
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