James’s eyes opened to the same conference room that he’d been in earlier, the drab white walls and spartan furnishings surprisingly comforting. He shifted and tried to sit up, his hands pressed against the faux wood table. His head swam the second it lifted off the hard surface, throbbing with one of the worst hangovers he’d ever had.
For several minutes, he lay in place with his eyes closed to the throbbing pain quickly building in his forehead. He rubbed his temples and let a soft moan slip through as he rolled to his side. Slowly opening his eyes, he searched the room for the god that had gotten him into this situation.
Instead, the room was empty and looked like nothing had changed. With stiff muscles, he eased himself into a seated position with his sword, Claiomh Solais, scraping across the table to clatter beside him. His feet touched the ground as he eased himself down and slowly walked over to the door.
As he stepped out into the small bullpen area, he got a good look out the windows. Instead of the early afternoon light that had been there when he first arrived, the deep red and orange of the sunset. He slumped down into one of the office chairs that sat in a group, waiting for the orderlies to place them at their desks.
On the only desk that had anything on it sat his nameplate, along with a note, a small cup of water, and two Motrin. Turning a little in the swiveling chair, he kicked his way over to the desk. With a single gulp of water, he took the pain killers before sitting back to let them kick in, his eyes closed to keep the morning light out.
When he stopped being able to hear the color around him, he opened his eyes again and glanced down at the note that was written in a scrolling hand.
Good work today, Sergeant. Get some rest, and I’ll meet you back here tomorrow to begin your training. We have a lot of work to do if we’re going to be ready for 2076. - Lugh
A groan escaped his lips as he sat back into the chair. For several minutes, he sat in the dimming room, trying to get his mind clear enough to safely drive home. The pain slowly pulled back, letting him get up and walk around the small office.
He let the small pathway between the high-walled cubicles lead him forward until it turned to the right. Just beyond the end of the cubicles, an armored door sat in an alcove, its palm scanner glowing a pale green in the dusk light. A few more steps brought him to the door as he pressed his hand against the panel to see if he would have access.
With a beep and a loud click, the door popped open. The bright light of the room beyond made him blink back a wave of pain in his head. A wave of fey magic followed the light, instantly rushing through him and beginning to burn away his pain and soreness with a warmth that felt almost like a cup of tea on a cold winter's day.
Warmth crept through him again, filling his body with a comfortable strength that he didn’t know he’d been missing. He breathed deep and let the magic fill him, fixing the physical wounds that the cleanse hadn’t repaired, including an old combat injury. Stretching his newly healed body, he stepped into the weapons locker and looked around at the ancient weapons that all glowed with a warm light.
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A set of golden armor stood in the far corner on a mannequin, flanked by an unstrung bow with a quiver full of arrows beside it and a spear with a shimmering leaf head and a golden ash shaft. The far wall was lined with books that were bound in leather, fabric, and metal of various sizes and styles. On another wall, dozens of bins and boxes were stacked on shelves, holding sticks of various shapes and colors, while others held strange-looking fabric that seemed to only partially be in this reality.
James took his time to study and touch as many of the items as he could. The weapons each had the same lighter-than-possible feel of the sword that still hung from his hip. Despite the thick bronze scales that covered the back and chest of the armored shirt, he lifted it easily.
Placing it over his head, he let the armor settle on his shoulders before he realized what he was doing. When the front and back panels touched, the armor instantly reshaped to match his muscular form with a knee-length skirt of metal and leather. With careful movements, he tested the mobility of the suit of armor, sweeping his arms from side to side as he twisted and bent much farther than he thought was possible.
He reached down and touched the sides of the armor, and it released into the front and back panels, allowing him to remove it. Once it was draped over the armature, he began to walk down the wall of books, letting his fingers run along the spines. Nearly thirty languages and scripts were scrawled and carved across the half dozen different materials in dozens of different colors.
Some were ornately painted, while others were simple lines cut into the metal spine. The first words that he recognized pulled his attention as he slid the book from its spot and took it over to the small desk. As he laid the book on the table, its front cover showed the gilded Celtic shield symbol shimmering in the dim light.
He sat on the cold metal chair and turned the book to face him. With a soft breath out to center himself, he ran his fingers along the lip of the cover and lifted it. Instead of opening like expected, the entire book lifted off the table.
The book thumped back down on the steel table to sit like it had just moments ago. He pulled at the cover again, lifting the whole book into the air. For several seconds, he stared at the violation of the laws of physics in his hand before putting it back down on the table.
With a shake of his head, he left the book on the table and stepped out of the safe room. Stepping out into the bullpen, he quickly gathered his things that were scattered around his desk. With everything in hand, James made his way to his car, the exhaustion of the day beginning to press down on him.
He dropped down into the driver's seat and started the car before sliding his sword and sheath free to rest on the seat beside him. With a whispered word, he activated his fey sight, blinking back the headache that came as the dim evening was replaced by the bright magical light. Finally aware of what the enemy influence looked like, he studied the base around him.
Life swarmed above and below the sea, making the world look like it was blanketed with stars despite the encroaching wall of clouds. A few small tendrils of black smoke crept from the basements of several buildings and holds of several ships that were moored at the docks. Pulling a small notepad from his bag, he noted down the different targets as well and noted which ones had the most smoke showing.
With that done, he dropped the pad and pen on the passenger seat and took a deep breath. He reached up and placed his fingers against his temple, speaking the words to deactivate his fey sight. After another deep breath to try and fight down the headache that was building again, he backed the car out of the spot and headed home.
