Wayne
The Rustler of Jimmies
840
[COLOR=#00000]On the Sixth Day[/COLOR]
“And there we saw the Nephilim, the sons of Anak, which come of the giants:
and we were in our own sight as grasshoppers, and so we were in their sight.”
[COLOR=#00000]On the Sixth Day[/COLOR]
“And there we saw the Nephilim, the sons of Anak, which come of the giants:
and we were in our own sight as grasshoppers, and so we were in their sight.”
A single flicker of light bore through the city’s darkened skies. From the sparks drew a heavenly flash, growing to take the shape of an arrayed, circular portal. Its wooden hinges, though usually moving on their own, was struck open prematurely. The Senkaimon shattered, as bits and pieces of its frame disintegrated into the air. Amidst the fading glare, a figure shot outward with haste, panicked and frenzied.
The man wore the robes of a shinigami, no more elaborate than the standard issue handed to all other soldiers. Wild, maroon hair trailing past his shoulders, he took a second to collect himself, labored breathing and all. His tired, sleepless eyes traced down to his side, bearing fruit a hint of satisfaction which briefly overcame the feeling of dread. Clutched within his right arm was a codex of some sort, its weary, antiquated covers giving some insight of its age. Loose pages sticking out from its Coptic bindings, it seemed to have no labeling or title whatsoever.
He would rejoice at his accomplishment—a daring, bold feat as it came to be. But that would come later. For now, he had to disperse, lest the dogs arrive and sink their fangs into his flesh. This ploy of his was two centuries in the making, planned with elaborate precision down to the most minute of details. There was no room for error, no place for the slightest fumble. The man had worked his way both with people and with ranks, and in the end... at the sweet, sweet end, he had triumphed. Written within the papers bound in his book was an ancient secret. The lines etched carried a venerable, eye-opening account that would transcend the boundaries of time itself.
Accumulating spiritual energy beneath his heels, the man vanished, carried by the winds of shunpo.
It took some time and it took some effort, but at last he was outside the general reach of Soul Society’s all-seeing eye. He kept his reiatsu contained, further augmenting his guise within the confines of a gigai.
Atop a parking garage in central Shinjuku, he stood in wait while still tightly keeping the article in his grasp. Gaze practically piercing the only elevator to reach the spot, his eyes widened as its signal lights blinked. Another man, partly graying hair in his early-fifties, stepped out rather excitedly. Wearing a trench coat over a battered, wrinkled dress shirt and trousers, he approached his contact.
“Mr. Grim,” he said enthusiastically with a wide, toothy grin. “You... you actually have it. Dear god, this is amazing!”
The younger-looking of the two shrugged, lifting the codex. “So you can actually see this too? Pretty impressive for a human, Mr. Warden.”
Right as the old man could grab the tome, his contact quickly stepped back just out of his reach. “Uh-uh. Before anything else, I’ve had enough of your stupid little nicknames. Enough with the ‘Mr. Grim’ already. It’s Raiha Shizuo. You’d do well to take note of that.”
Warden chuckled, shaking his head. “Yes, yes of course. Your people’s culture promotes formal names, just as they do in my world. Raiha it is, then. Now please, may I see the artifact?”
“Watch your hands, human.” Shizuo handed over the codex.
“Come now, I’ve been an archaeologist for twenty-six years and I’m a professor at Cambridge. Handling ancient relics should not be of any concern,” he boasted as he held and examined the book’s outer layout. “Hmmm... fascinating. Not a single engraving or design.”
“That’s not surprising.” Shizuo crossed his arms. “That thing’s older than me. It’s one of the oldest written records in Soul Society, treasured and kept away even from the Gotei’s elite.”
Opening and skimming through the first few lines, it didn’t take long before Warden was completely immersed in the codex’s writings. His gaze bolted open, heart pounding as sweat began to take hold of his trembling limbs.
“Oh my... this... this is beyond imagining.” He flipped through page after page, grinning all the way. “The similarities, the correlations, they’re exactly alike! This completely dismantles the very foundation of human history as we know it! Books will be rewritten, Mr. Raiha, fields of studies will change dramatically! There are some details which I’m not familiar with, but for the most part, everything is here.”
Looking pleased, though not as liberal as the human, Shizuo asked, “Then from what you know with your ‘human history,’ where does it say about the site’s location? It’s just gibberish to me, riddle after goddamned riddle.”
Warden placed his index finger on one verse in the middle of a page. “Right here. It’s not exactly the place, but it apparently has something to do with what we are looking for. And this... good lord... I know exactly where this is. I’ll book a flight right away, so for the mean time, lay low and keep close
“And where are we going, exactly?” Shizuo asked, nodding his head.
The professor closed the book shut right before placing it by his side.
“Göbekli Tepe.”