The Legacy of Atlantis - The Awakening of Evil


Is it real? Is it a myth? There are people all over who will argue both cases. Some people will even tell you that magic is science we are unable to comprehend. At the end of the day, it doesn't matter what other people tell you. All that matters is what I tell you right now.

I come from a world thought long gone by you and your people. It's better that way. For hundreds of years, the planet of New Atlantis has prospered in peace and, well...prosperity. That all changed when I ventured into a whole new world of forces that were beyond both my control and understanding, and now chaos lurks around every corner.

Believe it or not, I'm the only one who can stop it.

My name is Jason Wolf and in order for me to succeed, I need you to believe in the impossible. Trust me when I say that the fate of both our worlds hang in the balance.


8. The Delacours

Planet Earth


Rome, Italy


The Delacour Family



4th August 2017, 19:00 pm…





Sixty-eight-year-old Pierre Delacour sat in the back of a black, sleek limousine outside the Aeroporto di Roma in Rome, Italy. The windows were made of bulletproof, one-way glass, and the entire car would take a direct hit from a missile.


Such things were not an issue when one was as rich as Pierre was. And you could tell just by looking at him.


Pierre had well-groomed hair and manicured fingernails and a beautifully cut Italian suit. In one hand he gripped a diamond-tipped cane, in the other, a brandy glass that had been filled with French cognac.



Just sitting in silence, sipping wine and perhaps reading a good book was, in Pierre’s mind, the path to perfect relaxation. Unfortunately, he had far too much respect for the classic novel to even go near a Kindle, and he had barely a moment to enjoy the wine in his hand before he heard a slight commotion outside the car.


Pierre sighed exasperatedly and glanced through the tinted, one-way glass. Outside on the pavement, a woman was being detained by Pierre’s private guards. They wore white shirts and black trousers with creases so sharp they looked like they could slice through air. Their bulging pectoral and abdominal muscles meant that their vast shirts were at least a size too small and their biceps were like tree trunks.

All they needed to look like generic James Bonds were earpieces, black blazers and dark shades.

The guards clutched a struggling young woman between them. The woman had short black hair, a thin-lipped mouth, black eyebrows and green eyes.


Shaking his head, Pierre wound the window down a little. “Is there a problem here?” he said, in English for the benefit of his guards but with a heavy French accent.


"Monsieur Delacour," grunted one of the guards. "We caught this woman attempting to gain access to your limo. She claims to be your daughter, but we think it more likely that she's an assassin. A man such as yourself has many enemies, yes?"

"Not claims," spat the woman in a light French accent.

"Tell me, my friend," Pierre said coolly. "Are you some kind of simpleton?"

When the woman didn't answer, the guards tossed her onto the pavement and snarled at her like a pit bull. "Answer him!"

"I was asking you," Pierre corrected him. "Are you some kind of simpleton?"

The guard was thrown. "S-sir?" he spluttered.


Pierre opened the car door and stepped smartly onto the sidewalk, using his cane for support. Even though he was in his sixties and leaning on a cane, the guards had to work hard not to cringe as he unfolded himself to his full height.


Pierre inclined his head toward the woman. “This young lady,” he said slowly. “Claims to be my daughter. Now…that’s easily verified, yes? Does that even sound like it might be a lie that any spy in their right mind would tell? Not if we are honest with each other. And thus we are left with one option, am I right?”

"But, sir," the second guard interrupted. "You told us yourself - your daughter is on a mission to the Alboran Sea."

"And that means that she can't return without notifying you beforehand?" Pierre asked. “You’re guards, my private security. I hired you for your ruthlessness and brawn, not your brains. So stop trying to think because it’s not either of your strong points.”


The first guard was still looking at the woman. “Sir, this looks nothing like Renata.”


Pierre gave the woman a look and she proceeded to remove her fake black eyebrows, revealing blonde ones underneath. She took out her green contact lenses, revealing blue eyes underneath.

And she pulled off her short, dark wig and allowed her long mane of blonde hair to tumble down her shoulders. And then she smiled. "Bonjour, Daddy."


She’d applied some fake tan and added a nose ring, which had surprisingly altered her appearance dramatically. Both guards’ jaws dropped as the simplicity but brilliance of Renata’s disguise dawned on them.


"Renata," acknowledged Pierre, toasting her with his glass. "Welcome back, mon cherie."

With a meaningful look at his daughter, Pierre Delacour then rounded on his guards. "Incompetents! I should have your tongues removed for even touching my daughter! At least then you would no longer give me pathetic excuses!"

Pierre’s weathered face registered fury in every frown line...every wrinkle.

"Excusez moi, Monsieur," the guards apologised, backing away lest Pierre swing his cane at them. "Desole de vous deranger."

"I've warned you about my daughter!!!" thundered Pierre. "Didn't I make absolutely certain that she was not to be touched, you imbeciles? Didn't I?"

"Oui, Monsieur," the guards mumbled, their heads down.


"And YOU!" Pierre barked, rounding on his daughter and pointing his cane at her like a gun, making her start and recoil lest the tip poke her in the eye. "I thought I raised you better, Renata! What do you mean by allowing these buffoons to lay hands on you? Didn't I spare no expense to train you as a child? Didn't I ensure that you spent countless hours being trained by the best of the best of the best to prevent against exactly this?"

Renata bowed her head. "Father I-"

"You should know better, Renata. You should know much better," Pierre scolded. "And when you know better, you do better. Otherwise, what's the point? You know how I feel about failure. You and your brother are my only heirs, and you are the future of this family. The family legacy rides on my shoulders for now, but one day I will pass the mantle to you two. You two will prevail. You must prevail. But in order to become a winner, you must think like a winner. You need to learn to accomplish your goals by any means. I will teach you, Renata, and you will learn. You will learn...or fall in the attempt."

Renata cringed.

"And do not worry!" Pierre added, turning back to his guards. "I have not forgotten you two! You will be punished for your incompetence! Immediately! Renata!" he commanded.


Eager to impress her father and get back into his good books, Renata moved faster than the guards ever could have imagined. She smashed a powerfully-driven karate chop into the first guard's shoulder, putting his right arm out of action so that he couldn't reach for the pistol holstered on the inside of his jacket that she'd felt pressing into her spine earlier.

The guard screamed and went down, clutching his shoulder blade. Since Renata had used her own strength and momentum to execute the karate chop, her hand stung like hell, but she knew that it was nothing to the excruciating pain the guard had felt in his dislocated shoulder.

As his colleague moved to draw his gun, Renata darted behind the first guard and twisted his left arm up behind his back in a painful armlock. "Watch," she jeered. "From this position, it is easy to manipulate your opponent. By hitting the correct pressure points, just watch what I can do..."

Renata struck him in the back with a few, well-placed jabs, triggering several nerves at once. The guard collapsed, temporarily paralysed, and his colleague watched him go down, horrified. This was just the distraction that Renata needed.

She smashed the second guard's hand with a roundhouse kick that sent his pistol flying high up into the air and clattering down onto the pavement several yards away.

He sagged to his knees, cradling his fingers, which were definitely broken judging by the crack they'd made when Renata had kicked him. Renata swung a second kick into his chin and his head snapped back, sending him reeling onto his back. "That was too easy."


"Tres bien, mon cherie, tres bien," Pierre laughed, amused. "Impressive form and I like your ferocity. Now…I imagine you’re wondering why I’ve called you back home?”

Renata nodded. “Naturally. I’m also wondering where Michel has got to?”



“I’m sure he’s around somewhere,” Pierre said airily. “Why don’t we get in the car?”


Both Pierre and Renata piled into the back of the limousine, and as they did, they saw a familiar face sitting there.


“Michel,” Renata smiled. “I should’ve known.”


“Renata,” Michel said. He was blond-haired and fair-skinned and extremely muscular. “Father,” he nodded at Pierre.


“I still don’t understand how you do that,” Pierre laughed. “I was in this limo not two minutes ago.”

“That’d be telling!” Michel smiled. He leaned in closer. “I came as quickly as I could, Father. I got your signal to return to Italy.”



“Yes, what is this all about?” Renata asked. “If this is about that silly dream you had a month ago-“

“It was not a dream,” Pierre said defiantly.

“You sound certain of that,” Michel noticed.


Pierre nodded. “That’s because what she said came to pass. Two New Atlanteans came to visit me yesterday, in the villa. Circe and Acheron, their names where.”

“Circe?” Renata drawled. “As in…the ‘turns-men-into-guinea-pigs’ Circe?”


“I don’t think so,” Pierre frowned. “It was just a codename apparently. What Enyo said was right – they were assassins, coming from a clan called the Horde. And they had the best news.”


“What news?” Renata asked, instantly interested.


“Enyo’s claims were confirmed,” Pierre said firmly. “New Atlantis is where he went all those years ago. It was sorcerers of the High Command government that kidnapped Alfredo and held him hostage as a lab rat for their twisted experiments.”


Michel ground his teeth. “I don’t believe it!!” he growled. “I lost my brother because of those…animals!



Pierre shook his head. “He’s not lost. Not yet. According to Circe, the Horde leader Morpheus has the power to fully take control of New Atlantis, and can offer us vengeance. But first, there are a few…complications.”


“Complications?” Michel asked. “How so?”


“Morpheus’ alleged nemesis has managed to create a weapon,” Pierre said. “Something Circe called a Symbiote. They didn’t elaborate on what kind of weapon it’s supposed to be, but according to Circe, it’s even stronger than Morpheus is.”


“So what do they plan on doing about it?” Renata asked.


“Simple,” Pierre said. “They’re going to take out the weapon on the ASAP. But they need our help. They need you two to use your espionage skills and to break into the vaults of a building called Corelli Industries. It’s a weapon and technology supplier on New Atlantis, and their vaults house the blueprints for a second weapon. One that’s powerful enough to conquer the Symbiote.”


“And let me guess?” Michel asked. “You don’t know what kind of weapon this is either?”


Pierre shook his head. “Son, that’s not the point. You’re missing the big question.”

“Which is?” Michel asked, bewildered.


“How do we get onto New Atlantis?” Renata asked. “I don’t see us being able to get there by spacecraft, seeing as we haven’t even broken the lightspeed barrier for one thing. For another we don’t even have the coordinates of New Atlantis.”

“Can’t we just hijack whatever means of transportation Circe and…Acheron was it, used to get to Earth?” Michel suggested.


“That would be the simplest option,” Pierre admitted. “But Circe informs me that the portal she and her associate used to get to us can only be used by those with Magic, which we are not.”


“And gladly, too,” Renata spat. “This is the force that kidnapped and maybe even tortured my brother! It’s evil, and given the opportunity, we should rid the Universe of it!”


Pierre nodded. “I agree. But first, we need to utilize it’s power in order to take it down. Back at the villa, I have two sets of blueprints given to me by our visiting friends last night. The first set of schematics shows how to assemble a device known as a Dimensional Cannon. This cannon is how we will reach New Atlantis.

“A piece of state-of-the-art Magical Technology, the Dimensional Cannon has the power to punch holes in the barriers that separate dimensions,” Pierre explained. “For the link to be established, one pair of cannons need to be operational. Once activated, the pair form a bridge, a bifrost if you will.”


“Leading from one Dimension to the next,” Michel finished.


“Precisely,” Pierre nodded. “The second set of schematics solves the problem of how we plan to power it. Of course, the cannon that the Horde plan on erecting in New Atlantis will be powered by Magic, as they have plenty of that. But where could we get some? This second device is a capsule that can extract every trace of Magic from any living organism that is infected with the ailment.

“Finally, we have a dossier,” Pierre finished. “On a resident of New York city known as Eugene Anderson. Our friend Eugene was once a citizen of New Atlantis until he was bitten and infected by a werewolf. During one full moon, he escaped from the basement that they kept him in and went on a rampage, racking up a body count of nearly twenty-eight innocent civilians.


“The High Command had no choice – they exiled him to Earth, which suggests that they possessed either a Dimensional Cannon or some other form of Inter-Dimensional travel.”


“Wait!” Renata said. “Are you saying that there’s an ex-resident of New Atlantis just a few hundred miles away? That there’s been Magic on this Earth for how many years and nobody’s realized??”


Pierre nodded. “Astounding, isn’t it?”


“That’s one word for it,” Renata said in disgust. “Well…our path ahead is clear. We’ll bring in Eugene and drain every drop of his blood to salvage all the Magic that we can. Hopefully it’s enough.”


“Thanks to some help from our visiting friends,” Pierre said. “I’ve run the calculations and the Magic in Eugene’s veins should keep the link alive for fifty-seven-point-eight-one seconds. That’s just under a minute.”


“That’s plenty of time,” Michel said. He smiled suddenly. “It’s really happening, isn’t it? We’re going to see Alfredo again.”

“God willing,” Pierre nodded. “And believe me when I say that it’s our duty to ensure that these New Atlanteans pay for everything they’ve put your brother through for the past twenty-five years. It’s our duty to aid this clan of assassins, this Horde in any and every way we can. And that’s just what I intend to do. Are you two with me?”


“You know I am, Father,” Michel said right away.

Pierre turned his gaze to Renata who answered immediately. “To the very end, Father.”


Pierre smiled. “Well then. Let’s not waste any more time. Driver! Take us to the Villa Delacour. Avanti!














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