Malcolm Harvey

 

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Table of Contents

Malcolm Harvey

Table of Contents

  • Prologue
  • Chapter 1- Malcolm Harvey 
  • Chapter 2- The Crimson Rose(Still being made :P)
  • Chapter 3- 
  • Chapter 4- 
  • Chapter 5- 
  • Chapter 6- 
  • Chapter 7- 
  • Chapter 8- 
  • Chapter 9- 
  • Chapter 10- 
  • Chapter 11- 
  • Chapter 12- 
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Prologue

Prologue-

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"Thirty seconds till drop!" The sergeant yelled loudly over the sound of the jet engines as the men throughout the plane made final checks on their straps and equipment. Sargent Marcus Montgomery, a rather striking and better looking man in his mid-thirties, stood at the rear of the aircraft, watching the drop ramp lower into position. "Ten seconds!" He shouted to his men, looking them all over before beginning the countdown.He knew that he probably would see maybe two of the forty men in the plane after their mission was complete. There was no doubt in his mind he would live. He had been through worse before.

    "Five!" His countdown began. "Four, three, two," the yellow light above the drop ramp lighted up. Marcus grabbed his pendant of the Virgin Mary, and gave it a quick kiss before finishing the countdown. "ONE!" He screamed, turning to face the open sky. "LETS GIVE 'EM HELL BOYS!" He shouted, before leaping off the end of the ramp. The excited battlecries and rallying of his men behind him fading almost immediately.

    Instantly there were large streaks of light whizzing by them, the forty individuals skillfully evading the larger ones, and only moving when necessary. They were professionals, they had been through the hellish training and augmentation of the JAY unit. The sergeant flipped himself freely in mid-air, using the skypack to its fullest capability, still speeding towards the ground. The battlefield was visible, gruesomely so. 

    The ground was a mixture of brown up-turned earth, and the crimson coat of fresh blood covering it. Marcus knew that hundreds of men had died trying to push this point, and he knew that hundreds more would die before they accomplished their mission. But I won't be one of them, he thought, looking at the display on his wrist. He had about twenty seconds until he needed to activate his chute. He did a quick weapons check, making sure he still had his sidearm, rifle, blade, and ammo, finding all satisfactory result. 

    He silently counted down to the right moment in his head, before yanking the chain to his chute, feeling the sudden jerk of the pack on his back told him that it was deployed. After a few seconds, it caught air, and became taught, slowing his speed towards the ground tremendously. Then he saw them. The cause for all the bloodshed and chaos. The damned Magicians who had turned his life into a living purgatory, into a hell without end. He steered himself with his chute to a clear patch of ground, uncapping and igniting a blue flare and throwing it on the ground to indicate the landing sight. A quick glance up told him that at least twenty of the JAYs had deployed their chute, but he had no clue how many actually did. 

    Marcus returned his attention to the ground as it rushed up to kiss him, bracing himself for the running landing that would happen. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he set off, sprinting, quickly unsheathing the machette-like blade and cutting the parachute cords, permitting a summersault to come back up with his rifle bared, just as his training and field combat experience in the past had taught him. He flicked the safety to burst, and crouched as he advanced his position. The number of soft thuds on the dirt behind him told him that only thirty one of the original forty made it to the designated drop point. If they had strayed, or had been killed, was up to the imagination at this point. They are not my concern as of now. We have a mission, and we must complete it.

​    The group faced out in a V-formation, advancing on the circle of untouched ground, with five individuals in it. The damned magicians are gonna pay. He thought, adjusting the sight on his gun to zoom in close enough to make out the features of the Magician's face in detail. He had dirty-blond hair, green eyes, and a boyish face. He couldn't have been over sixteen, and if Marcus had to guess, he would say the youth was eleven. But that didn't matter, that little kid, and the several other Magicians with him, were responsible for the destruction and death caused here. And that angered Marcus. He had an old fashioned mindset, children shouldn't be involved with war. 

    Then it happened.

    That infamous day in history.

    Marcus first heard the roar of the jet planes, and felt an exhilaration like no other as their team moved forward. They were the vanguard, they would pave the way for everyone else to come in. He quickly lined the rifle up with the small magician once again, but something was different this time. The other magicians were moving away, retreating. They had them on the defensive! But... They had left the kid by himself.

    Marcus furrowed his brow as he zoomed in close enough, as if he was standing barely a foot before the kid. The kid was watching the sky, with a look of innocent curiosity, the very same emotion he had seen in his own little girl back home. And he felt that the kid couldn't be that killing machine. Marcus relaxed his grip on his weapon, removing his finger from the trigger of the weapon, and just watching the kid. 

    He just stared and watched as the kid sat down, in the middle of the bloodied field. Something was captivating about the sight, that such innocence and serenity could exist in a place of conflict, chaos, destruction, and maliciousness. Then a shot rang on from his left, and his eyes widened as he saw a red splotch appear on the kids lower torso. Marcus, a vetted, battle-hardened, soldier, shed a single tear as he watched the child fall forward limp. What is wrong with this world? That we have become so twisted that we use children on the battlefield, and us, grown men, don't so much as bat an eye lash as we kill these children.

    He teared up even further, but he had a sharp gasp at the next events. The small figure slowly sat up, the red patch of blood on his white garb all too prominent. That's when he saw it. The Devil incarnate with all of its pure evil. The small boy's eyes were no longer the vibrant green they had once been, rather, they were now pitch black. The boy looked directly at Marcus, from over five hundred meters, he looked into his eyes. Then he raised a hand, and red rings of Psionic energy flowed around his arm. Marcus barely had any time to shout a warning to his men, nor the reinforcements that were just about there. 

    His final thoughts were of his Wife, his daughter, and of his unborn son. The red light overcame them all, leaving nothing remaining but a gigantic crater. 

~[London] August 9th, 2119 A.D.~

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Chapter 1- Malcolm Harvey

Chapter 01-

Malcolm Harvey

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       "Malcolm Harvey," The teacher raised her voice, slamming a hand down on the sloth student's desk. The teen's head snapped up, his forehead red from laying on his arm. He looked at his professor for a moment with a lazy and tired look in his emerald eyes. "Just because you may not feel like joining us in this class, doesn't mean that I don't still feel as though you should at least pay attention to your professor for more than five seconds before dozing off!" Her rant ended as she walked back to the front of the room.

    Malcolm looked at her, bleary eyed. He was going on about some sort of relation between suffix and prefixes in Latin. He hated this class. Learning Latin in this day and age was pointless. The only reason they were learning it was because of the stupid School Board who decided it was important for their Students to have 'A sense of cultural history of their ancestors.' But now, in the 22nd century? Was it really necessary?

    Malcolm attended the Juliette Monroe Academy of Magicks, a school that put heavy focus on the practical and military aspects of their natural ability. The school itself was on a humongous campus, if someone from a century ago were to look at it, they might think it was a Human Boarding school, or a college. There were Dorms, and multiple gymnasiums. There were even a few circular buildings attached to the main complex which housed Arena's. Of course, the main Arena was completely separate and on another part of the grounds. Networked between the buildings was a variety of sidewalks, paths, gardens, and general public scenery. It was a nice school, with well-maintained facilities, although it wasn't the newest.

    Malcolm let out a low groan before putting his head down. "Mister Harvey!" His teacher yelled. Malcolm made a snoring sound and feigned sleep. "Mister Malcolm Sylvester Harv-" She didn't get to finish her scolding as the door to the classroom suddenly opened, and in stepped three students who had an air of authority.

    "Mrs. Natalie, is Malcolm Harvey in this class?" The lead figure, a boy standing about five feet and eight inches high, with bleach white hair and burning scarlet eyes. The girl who stood a little behind and to his left was shorter and had long chestnut-brown hair that reached her waist. The other boy standing a little to his right  had golden-blond hair, with bright blue yes, not to mention he stood fairly tall, around his own height. Mrs. Natalie, the teacher who loathed Malcolm straightened herself, ad adjusted the pair of spectacles on the bridge of her nose. "Yes he is. What does the student council want with him?" She replied, the later half of the statement said with a sharp tone.

    "You need not know, as of now. But you will surely find out soon enough," the boy said, a gentle smile on his face. He then scanned the classroom, and although Malcolm wasn't looking and was feigning sleep, he could feel the boy's gaze as it came to rest upon him. "Malcolm Harvey, I apologize for the inconvenience, but I need to ask for you to come with us," he said. "Oh, and bring your Spec MID," the boy quickly added, before walking out the room, the other two students following him.

    Despite Malcolm lazy nature, he felt a strange feeling come over him, one that didn't sit well. He felt a twinge of fear, and he was being compelled by that fear to follow the School President. He quickly grabbed his bag, stood, and walked quickly out of the classroom in order to catch up with the trio.

    "I don't have my Spec MID with me," Malcolm said as he caught up with them. He finally had a chance to get a full set of eyes on the trio, they were odd together, but it felt like they were used to each other and felt completely comfortable in each others presence. Something Malcolm did not share. The Student Council president turned his head over his shoulder to look at Malcolm.

    "Amber, would you mind lending Malcolm your Spec MID?" He asked, his gaze flickering to the girl with the chestnut colored hair. "But Sir!" She protested. A quick narrowing of his eyes told her that he was not going to debate the matter. She gave a sigh, before stopping and turning to face Malcolm.

    Malcolm studied her for a moment, realizing that she was rather cute. She had big brown eyes, and long straight chestnut-brown hair. Her face a round, and she had a button nose. He looked quickly in another direction to prevent his imagination from giving him false hope. He happened to look at the President, who had a grin on his face that said he knew exactly how Malcolm felt. 

    "Here," her voice drew his attention back to her. She had produced from the holster strapped to her lower back, a launcher-type Spec MID. It was similar in appearance to Human firearms except it didn't fire bullets. Malcolm glanced at it, swallowing quickly, "Why do I need to take her MID?" 

    The President chuckled for a moment. "Because! You'll be fighting me!" The suddenly enthusiastic response from him surprised Malcolm. And apparently it did to the other two as well, as the Chestnut-brown girl suddenly spun partially around her heel. "Sir, you can't be serious!" She said, a looking of disbelief on her face. "We are the student council! We're to set an example for other students! This is the most basic form of bullying!" Her protests were accompanied by hand gestures, the MID in her hand waving around.

    Personally, Malcolm felt a bit outraged that she had written him off so easily, but he remained where he was, giving off an impartial expression. The blond boy stepped in at this point. "Hannah, the President must have reasons for his decision," he said, holding a hand up to stop her from continuing. She glared at him for a moment before spinning on her heel. Malcolm had barely enough time to react as she threw her MID at him, which he caught deftly. "Don't think that I will help you either. Just because this will be a one-sided fight doesn't mean I'm obligated to help the losing party!" She said, her tone intense. 

    Malcolm swallowed, a bit of nervousness about the impulsiveness of this girl. Sure, she may be cute, but she was definitely very vocal. Why is someone like her on the Student Council's Board? Malcolm silently questioned while nodding. "Relax Rick, she has a valid concern, if I was fighting an average student," the Council President said, his voice taking on a dramatic tone, to which Malcolm made a mental note that the President was a bit eccentric. "Forgive me Malcolm Harvey, for I have neglected to introduce myself," he continued, giving a fancy bow. Malcolm raised an eyebrow, He really has a flare for the dramatic, eh?

    "I am Roland Frederick Henry, the third. Pleasure to meet you, Crimson Rose."

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