Shadow Corporation

Shadow Corp

Guile



Guile Jackson thought the numbers worked out quite well, 46 is a good age to die.  46, was exactly twice the age Brigitte had been when she had died and 40 years older than their son, Asha.  It was now his turn.  Guile felt no fear, he knew justice did not exist, not in this life anyway, if karma was real, his life would have been taken long before his 46th birthday and both Brigitte and Asha would still be alive. 

The thought that karma catches up with you in the next life stole slowly into Guile’s mind. This idea grew, intensified and became fact.  The realisation knocked the air out of his lungs, fast, and he felt himself being dragged by strong inhuman arms into a tunnel of seemingly endless night. He fought the force dragging him down with every ounce of strength he had left in him.  Until finally, when all breath and hope had left his body Guile saw a dim light in the distance and he surrendered, allowing himself to be pulled ever downward into the abyss.

The light overwhelmed him and his mind gave way to visions.  He saw the sun reflecting off Ramone’s jewelry store in his home town of Oxford.  Then that same sun highlighting locks of waist length blonde hair, emerald green eyes and a diamond ring on Brigitte’s left hand.  The image was callously followed by another, this one of blood… red, thick, and congealed, obscuring Asha’s face so that it is barely recognizable beneath the sheet as it is lifted.          



Eventually all thoughts and visions fade and there is only peace, no thoughts, no visions, just blessed peace.







Guile remembers nothing of the fight when he regains consciousness. Reality hits him slowly and painfully, as he realises he has lost.  He was young, perhaps eighteen or nineteen when he last lost a fair fight and the feeling is foreign and unpleasant. He lifts his head slowly, cautiously attempting to get his bearings.  His doctor Sebastian is at his side checking him over for injuries and suggesting they get out of the ring, fast. As his vision clears he sees Ebony smiling down at him, the concern showing only in her expressive blue eyes, so like Guiles.

“Take it easy Dad,” she says softly allowing him to get up on his own, but staying close enough to catch him should he fall.

As Guile exits the ring Ebony remains on his left, with Sebastian on his right, both of them taking care not to look as if they are helping him walk.  Jeers and taunts surround them as they move through the crowd, up the stairs and enter the large double wooden doors into the bar. 

In the bar Guile sees Axel, his employee and “friend”, almost doubled over laughing, not even making an attempt to hide his amusement at Guiles defeat. Axel waves him over to an empty chair and offers him a drink, so Guile temporarily lets the insult slide, and slumps down gratefully beside him in the black leather armchair.  Ebony and Sebastian joins them at the table, close to laughing themselves as the tension of the fight begins to fade. 

“You just lost a lot of people, a lot of money,” Axel states, after finally regaining his composure and pulling his long red hair back out of his eyes.

“Well, we are not a bank, it’s a risk, that’s why it’s called gambling,” Guile replies, through gritted teeth, as he downs the cointreau in one long swallow.

“All the same, don’t stray to far from us tonight, you have some very pissed off punters out there, poor little darlings, will want recompense for their losses” Sebastian says, the note of foreboding in his voice, cutting through the sarcasm of his comment. 



After that, the night passes by in a haze, intermitting waves of pain punctuating Guiles evening.  In between Guiles second and third drink Sebastian looks him over properly and assures him that other than a few broken ribs there’s no real damage. Ebony remains at his side smiling and laughing, observing everything and everyone in the bar.  Around 1 am, Guile considers the possibility of a splintered rib puncturing a lung and almost returns home, but somehow the thought of going home alone to an empty room seems an even more terrifying option. So uncharacteristically he continues drinking until an hour or so before dawn. As the sun comes up he slurs his goodbyes to everyone at the bar and Ebony helps him stumble down the large empty marble corridors of his home to the comfort of his bedroom and he once again falls fully dressed into unconsciousness.          





[The full moon shone down on Glastonbury Hill, Guile could smell the spring jasmine in the air and feel the grass under his bare feet still wet with rain.

“Magic always has consequences, are you prepared for that, my love” Tabitha purrs, her auburn hair gleaming in the moonlight.

“Yes, anything Athene desires, she shall have from me, I crave strength above all else” Guile hears himself reply as he takes the bone handled knife in his right hand and slashes a vein.  He kneels and fills the silver chalice at his feet with the blood which is now pouring from his left wrist, then hands it to the witch. 

“Athene, I beseech thee, bring your power to earth and fill this mortal, who’s blood is my offering, with the strength and cunning of ten of his like, as I will it, let it so be”.] 





The hard king sized mattress undulates like a water bed, the more Guile tries to curl into a ball in the corner and be still, the more his body sways and hurts.  “I feel the earth move under my feet,” the Martika song comes on full volume and Guile rolls painfully to the other side of the bed to turn the alarm clock off, cursing himself for not thinking of it the night before.  Its only 9am but there is no going back to sleep now so he picks up the phone and orders breakfast, black coffee accompanied by dry toast, in bed.  His live in chef, Lisa sounds surprised but does not hesitated at the unusual request and ten minutes later delivers the food, smiling and fussing, then withdrawing.  Half an hour later Guile downs the cold coffee and feels slightly better for the caffeine. He then eats the bland food and has a cold shower which unfortunately clears his mind enough for him to consider the consequences of the night before.                     

It’s a cold English morning and Guile’s thoughts are as grey as the clouds he can see out of the stained glass windows of his bedroom.  In dollar terms losing the fight has cost him close to 3 million, in prize money and personal bets; that stung!  His reputation had taken a huge blow, and by association his company, Shadow Cor.  The thought of losing the business that allowed him to organize and compete in tournaments all over the world and had made him a multi millionaire over the last fifteen years, had a bite to it. Shadow Cor was financially strong, but the nature of the beast was to devour.  If he did not beat Khan in a rematch, his investors would start backing out, and his fighters would rally behind the new champion.  Guile predicted he would be dead, unemployed or even worse, bankrupt, by the end of the month without some major damage control.  With these thoughts as incentive he manages to move slowly to his study on the top level of his house and sink into a favorite black leather office chair to work on organizing the next tournament.



Around 5pm Guiles hangover gets the better of him and he heads out of the house and starts walking east.  Half an hour later he enters the large double wooden doors into the private bar of the Shadow Fire Hotel. “Hi Boss,” the twins, Cat and Cain echo in greeting as they recognise their employer. It’s around 6pm, on a Monday afternoon and the upmarket bar is mostly deserted. 

“Khan is sitting just round to the left, near the samurai swords,” Cain says quietly as he passes.  Security just earned their pay, Guile thinks to himself as he nods in appreciation of the warning, to the chattier of the twins, and diverts left towards the meeting he knew would have to take place sooner or later.

“Congratulations Khan,” Guile says as he offers his hand to the man who just the night before had beaten him unconscious.  The usual pleasantries “How is Ebony? and How is Carla?” are exchanged and Guile accepts Khan’s offer to join him for a drink.  It strikes Guile as unusual that Khan is here alone and he can only conclude that he had been waiting for him to arrive. 

“So, when is the rematch?” Guile asks the challenge in his tone obvious.

“Let’s not talk business, if you’re interested in gaining your title back I’ll draw up a contract and have it delivered tomorrow,” Khan says, scratching his cheek with a long black painted thumbnail.

Something in the way Khan diverts his eyes at the word contract makes Guile very nervous.  Despite this, he agrees to the proposal, finishes his drink and heads out of the bar back into the night.           

The darkness folds around Guile like a warm blanket.  The cold English winter is forgotten as the alcohol sinks in and electronic light is not splintering into his mind, muddling his thoughts.  The constant rain has eased up for the first time in two weeks, so Guile pulls the collar of his black full-length trench coat up around his short blonde hair and starts walking.  He prowls left, out of High Street, leaving the bars and clubs behind him.  On George Street he slows his pace and studies once again the magnificent old university buildings of Oxford which are lined up one next to the other as if competing for his attention.  An hour later he turns off George Street into Farthing Lane and strolls along the banks of the Thames River.  The sound of the small waves created by the current lapping at the sides of the canal calm him, as the sight of the familiar buildings had done earlier, almost to the point that he does not hear the two sets of footsteps following, gaining on him from behind, almost. 

As Guile quickens his pace he can hear two sets of footsteps walking in unison followed by a third, softer, a few meters behind.  The swollen Thames River is on his left, and a six foot high fence, barring the way onto a private property is on his right.  He stops and leans with his back flat against the fence, the shadows of an enormous old fir tree combine with the concealing black of his trench coat allowing him to fade into the night.  Guile resists the impulse to light a cigarette and waits impatiently, his breath coming out in sharp, thin lines of fog in the cold air.  Oh, what fun, he thinks sarcastically, as the noise behind him ceases and he hears three new sets of footsteps coming towards him. 

“He has to be somewhere between us, start scanning the fence line”.  Guile hears a deep voice from behind him.          

A few minutes later three men come into view in front of him, the tallest of them puts something in the pocket of his bomber jacket and waves the others towards the fence.  The two footsteps from behind become audible again and soon Guile can see five men closing in on him.

“Hello” Guile taunts, stepping out from the shadows just before they discover his position.  The five men move towards him forming a semi circle around him so he is trapped with the fence behind him.  They then start producing formidable looking knives and switch blade razors from their pockets.  Where’s the sixth, Guile wonders anxiously, just before he feels a familial primeval power surge around him and the air grows eerily still.  The five assailants drop unconscious to the ground. Guile shakes his head laughing with relief and lights himself that cigarette.

A small girl with long dark hair almost to her waist, wearing jeans a fitted jacket, white scarf and gloves against the cold, walks casually towards him.

“Did you go to school today?”  Guile asks, as he stoops down and takes a wallet and mobile phone out of the pocket of the tall man who had led the others towards the fence. 

“Yep, deadly boring, caught up on some sleep though” she says, twisting her hair around her fingers and giving a slight nervous smile. 

“You know I don’t approve of magic, Ebony” Guile says, as he dumps the phone and wallet back onto the ground and begins walking down towards the path.

“I could always wake then up again, once you have their weapons,” she says, falling in beside him and linking her arm through his.

“What have I said about magic, Ebony?” Guile growls as he frowns down at her and tightens his grip around her tiny arm.

“I really am sorry, I just thought tonight was an exception, please loosen up, your hurting me” she pleads with tears welling in her eyes. Guile instantly loosens his grips and continues walking,

“will they wake up by themselves” he asks.

“Oh, wake” she says softly, Again the air goes still and Guile feels the immense power of Ebony’s will surge into the night.