A Journey of Black and Red Epilogue 4: Ash and Thin Air (Patreon)

Article taken from the Financial Times, June 1947, four years after the Last City’s fall.

‘Accords’ to acquire sovereignty over Cape Breton Island.

In a shocking development, the mysterious group known as ‘The Accords’ purchased the sovereign rights to Cape Breton Island from the Canadian government for a sum of eleven billion US dollars. The lease will last for a hundred years and cover the whole of the island.

The Cape Breton Island is part of the Nova Scotia province and separated from its peninsula by a short strait. The island’s size reaches almost four thousand square miles and is home to almost thirty thousand people, mostly of Scottish heritage. It represents one of the largest land concessions made since Hong Kong. The development was unexpected and seems to have taken the world off guard. The Canadian opposition has not yet formulated a rebuttal. League of Nations secretary Iorgo Papadopoulos reacted to the news yesterday.

“Canada’s decision may come as a surprise, however it is the decision of a sovereign nation and must be respected. I would like to remind my colleagues that this territory still nominally belongs to Canada and will be returned. It is not a partition.”

Defense secretary Mercer was much more critical of the decision.

“For years, the Intergrist party has warned humanity against the insidious dangers posed by subhumans, witches, and heathens. Now, a group of such people has robbed an entire nation of the sanctity of their territorial integrity. We will immediately launch a probe into the groups that participate in this blasphemy and suggest whatever sanctions we deem appropriate to the Department of Justice. We cannot let our guard down against the sinful hordes, even now that we have the Bomb.”

The mysterious group known as ‘The Accords’ gathers a vast community of various interests with no formal structure. Spokesperson Ariane Nirari defended the decision as ‘lawful and ethical in the respect of the local population’. Several projects have already been announced including a causeway over the Canso straits, a highway to Halifax, and a large development of the island’s infrastructure, including its main seaport. Local populations will retain the same right as before and enjoy a tax cut as well as a slew of other benefits.

Several groups already pledged to move part of their facilities to this new ‘cité franche’ including IGL and Skoragg Heavy Industries. Economists expect the pledged amount assigned to this project to surpass twenty billion US dollars, a frankly absurd amount according to Yale Professor Andrew Cleggan.

“There are no mineral, agricultural, cultural, or strategic resources that justify such extravagant spendings. Even the local coal mines are currently inoperable. If I must, I will provide two possible explanations. First, we simply don’t have all the information we need to understand the Accords and their rationale. it’s entirely possible there is a resource there only magically inclined people may use. The second option is ideological. It is entirely possible that, given the deteriorating geopolitical environment and the worsening conditions of abhumans everywhere, the Accords would wish to create a ‘safe state for the magical people’. Cape Breton might be it.”

No matter the reason, Cape Breton and the Accords remain an enigma wrapped in enough capital to buy a small nation.

***

January 1st, 1970.

The spy breathed a sigh of tension when the elevator’s door closed behind him. If things were going to mess up, they were going to mess up now. The glass structure around him showed nothing but rock and steel beams. It was probably too late to run. The vampires were paranoid. He had already pushed his luck to the maximum.

And no one could keep secrets from them.

The man strapped on latex gloves then reached under his shirt for the first of three necklaces. This one was a metal card with a strange, eye-like object on its surface that looked slightly like a lens. He pressed on the gray button. There was a ding. A panel opened.

The man pressed his gloved finger on a fingerprint scanner. A green beep rang and he felt an intense relief flooding his veins. Despite that, his heart still thundered against his chest. The suit chafed at the skin of his neck. That was only one hurdle.

The man those prints belonged to was currently chained in a basement. He had to hope the code he’d surrendered would work. That was the second hurdle.

One by one, the man pressed the keys. He wiped his sweaty forehead with a stained handkerchief. This had to work. He would not get another chance like that again. Daltonville was in the midst of new year celebrations, hundreds of thousands of people braving the cold to watch the parade. Security was overwhelmed and most of the vampires were asleep. He had exactly one shot at this.

A second beep validated his credentials. Another scanner opened. Retina scanner this time.

The man placed the card’s lens opposite the scanner. Another beep. So far so good. A last panel opened in the shape of a handprint. Aura scanner.

That was the most likely point of failure.

With shaking hands, he picked the second pendant. It contained a vial filled with blood, the red liquid pulsing strangely under the shining runes surrounding the crystal container. Witchcraft, but sometimes one had to fight fire with fire. He rolled the vial against the aura scanner through his gloved hand.

Had to work.

At first, he thought they might have failed but enough of the living man’s essence remained in the linked blood and the final hurdle was finally undone. The spy pressed the lowest floor number the prisoner had said he could reach. Minus one hundred and twelve. That seemed too insane to be true considering it was not even the lowest point of the complex under the old fortress.

The lift slid down. The spy pulled a small camera and started to record. He had to hope the twinning enchantment would work so that his sacrifice would not be in vain since he would not get out of there alive. He had no way to know if it did or not.

At first, the window revealed nothing but rock but soon it showed a strange avenue decorated with lamps around a statue of a short-haired woman wielding an undulating sword. Shops and cafes adorned the street while above, a strange vegetation gave the illusion of a starry night. Men and women walked there. One of them turned and looked directly at him. The spy averted his eyes. He knew he was on the clock. He only prayed he would have enough time to complete his mission.

The lift went on. Under the commercial street, there were indoor gardens and habitat quarters stretching in every direction though walls prevented him from seeing for how far. He had an idea though. His idea crystallized when the lift reached the ‘hydroponics’ levels. Farms and greenhouses grew industrial amounts of greenery across a cavern as wide as the largest stadium. There were even trains! He knew then with absolute certainty where most of those uncounted billions had gone.

“They are building an underground city…” he whispered.

No, an underground nation.

The spy forgot to turn to film. He was stuck against the glass, watching machinery replace the greenhouses, then entire factories. Some of them were building those Skoragg gunships. There were barracks. Research labs. All livable, all within caverns built with unknown means. The vampires… had an army. An entire fucking army.

The lift reached the lowest level.

The spy stepped out, camera almost discarded. He was now standing over a balustrade overlooking a great chasm at the bottom of which, something red and hot bubbled. The heat was unbearable but he did not care, did not even thing to remove his vest, because on platforms hanging over that void were missiles. Large missiles, black and ominous with strange scales and twisted geometries. There was no mistaking their functions, however.

“Hastur class ICBMs. Practically undetectable,” a voice whispered in his ear.

The spy did not turn. He dropped the camera and reached for his collar where the last pendant waited. He retrieved the cyanide capsule and made to swallow, only to realize the capsule was no longer there.

His heart skipped a beat.

The capsule had simply vanished.

The camera floated back to his hand.

“Cannot have that,” the voice said again. “The entire complex is shielded so your transmission did not go through. I admit to being impressed so I let you go down while I checked on my employee. Leaving him alive was inspired. And gave you a respite.”

The spy turned to a pair of blue eyes like a summer sky. The woman leaned against the balustrade in a black cocktail dress, as if disturbed from a party. That was probably the case, he realized.

“I wonder what I was going to do and then I realized, perhaps there is hope after all. You have seen the city. You have recorded it. Your higher-ups know we have premonitions. So they should understand why we have prepared.”

She sighed.

“Of course, some of them will want those preparations for themselves so I suppose you will have to show them the end of the movie, yes? Attacking us would be… rather foolish. You must take care of your own. We have already stopped two attempts at ending the world. I am growing… wary. This is your last chance.”

“Are you… her?”

“Yes. Off you go now. Tell your masters that only they can stop the end from coming because I will not. Do not forget the film.”

***

Archived National TV recording, November 9th, 1989

Grainy texture. An anchorman faces the camera with a background showing the Los Angeles Skyline. Today, he has picked a serious, concerned expression.

“Goodday, ladies and gentlemen. Breaking News. After a month of turmoil and massive protests over all oblasts, the unthinkable has happened. The State Duma announced the dissolution of the Soviet Union today after an intense session during which several members engaged in physical confrontations. Central power militaries have reached maximum readiness in what they describe as a ‘challenging and fast-moving environment’. The German Empire, in particular, voiced concerns about Communist hardliners who might grow desperate in the face of imminent dismantlement.  The League of Nations have gathered for an emergency meeting to address the risk of escalation that would come with a fractured army and —”

The man places a hand against his ear. He listens in on a message. His expression melts. Off screen, a woman screams.

“I am getting reports of… Nuclear explosions. Nuclear explosions over the Eastern seaboard. At least three confirmed hits. Silos all over the country have…”

The last of his composure breaks.

“Oh my God. It’s happening. It’s happening.”

Belated air sirens cover the silence. A woman climbs to the podium and takes the anchorman’s hand as he stands. He still watches the camera. There is a tension there he’s not willing to break yet, even as a sound technician and the cameraman join the pair in a huddling mass. He is the last one who has not broken yet.

“The… There will be a security announcement. listen to it, Listen to it and follow the instructions. Seek shelter. Do not give up. Seek shelter and live. And may God be with all of y—”

NO SIGNAL.