Jeremiah Ellison
In the dead of night, a helicopter flies by, shining its light down on the ground. Under the cover of darkness, a dark cloaked figure is behind some rubble. As the helicopter flies by, the dark figure runs over to the next piece of debris. As it passes by the general area, the cloaked figure runs into a cave.
Once he enters, there are torches alight in a small room that looks like a sort of lounge in an old lodge. Another cloaked figure asks, “Were you followed?”
“No,” answers the first one.
The second figure puts down his hood, revealing a tan man with black hair and glasses who says, “Welcome back to the Dark Magic Association. Please have a seat. The meeting will start in 30 minutes.”
The other person takes off their cloak revealing a ghostly pale white skin and a green amulet around his neck. He is unhealthily skinny with yellow eyes. The pale man puts his cloak on the coat rack and takes a seat in front of the TV. A short, stout black man with big glasses and brown eyes walks up to him.
“Hey Kilo. You’re looking as ghastly as ever.”
“Hey Mike. How’s it going?”
“Man, it’s nuts. You send one zombie to get your groceries and the government wants to come and shoot you down. I made sure to give him his coffee before sending him because any good necromancer knows that zombies only eat brains when they don’t get their coffee. What about you? Are the feds still on your tail for the longevity charm?”
“Yep. This whole stigma against dark magic is stupid. No hospital with its healing spells and modern medicine can help me. This thing around my neck is the only thing keeping me alive. Other than that, it’s been well. I’m holing up in an abandoned apartment building downtown,” responds Kilo before a voice announces, “Everyone please gather round for the meeting.”
Everyone got up and went into the next room which consists of a bunch of folding chairs. Two torches sit upon a stage at the front of the room with the guy from earlier standing behind a podium. Once everyone is seated, he clears his throat and begins. “Everyone, I would like to thank you all once again for attending this meeting of the Association of the Dark Arts. As some of you may be aware, the government has been cracking down on dark wizards as of late. Now we all got our reasons for practicing the dark arts. Whether it be for survival, continuing to interact with our loved ones long dead, or just overall health. We all have a reason why dark magic is necessary in our lives. That is why we are gathered here today. To discuss the latest happenings in the community of dark wizards.”
Suddenly, the sound of metal hitting the floor echoes throughout the room as smoke begins to fill it. All of a sudden, Kilo feels incredibly sick and starts coughing up blood. Noise from gunshots fill the once quiet room as chaos breaks out all around them. Mike grabs Kilo and attempts to run out as people are screaming, “It’s the feds,” “They found us,” “We’re gonna die,” “I’m going to lose my membership card.” Someone in a blue uniform adorned with several medals and a gas mask confronts Mike and Kilo at the room’s entrance.
“We finally found you, you disgusting vermin,” says the man in the blue suit.
As Kilo coughs up more blood, Mike shouts in surprise and horror, “General Croy!”
The smoke is replaced by a green gas and everyone suddenly falls down unconscious. General Croy orders his troops in disguise wearing gas masks. “Everyone, take these dark wizards to holding cells immediately. I want them imprisoned for life or on death row. That’s for the courts to decide.” The soldiers gather everyone on trucks now parked outside of the cave and transport them to various prisons.