The Black Diamond
JP with Jaxx, Redsword, Trustno1 and Cindy
Sartre closed his eyes, forcing himself into the mental theater of his own mind—a place of brutal clarity, where the threads of human depravity wove themselves into patterns only he could see. Tonight, he was chasing the echoes of Elizabeth Short’s final scream.
The walls of his mind melted into a vivid tableau of 1947 Los Angeles, drenched in a sepia-toned gloom. The city pulsed with sin, its neon arteries throbbing in the smoggy twilight. The scene sharpened into focus: the sprawling, labyrinthine mansion of Dr. George Hodel, a man whose aura seemed to exude a foul and suffocating malice. The air inside was thick with the copper tang of blood, mingling with the sickly sweetness of decaying gardenias.
Hodel stood in the center of a grand room, its walls adorned with grotesque art that seemed to twist and shift in the corner of Sartre’s vision. The doctor’s face was a mask of aristocratic detachment, but his eyes burned with an otherworldly hunger. He moved with the precision of a surgeon, carving arcane symbols into the air with a gleaming scalpel. Around him, hooded figures chanted in a guttural tongue that scraped against the boundaries of human comprehension. Their words summoned shadows that slithered and coiled like living ink across the floor.
At the center of this unholy gathering was a raised altar of obsidian, its surface veined with crimson streaks that pulsed faintly, as if alive. Upon it lay Elizabeth Short, her porcelain skin marred by the cruel geometry of Hodel’s blade. Her lifeless eyes stared upward, reflecting the dark majesty of a chandelier fashioned entirely from human bones. Sartre’s breath caught as he realized the altar’s shape was no accident—it resembled the jagged facets of a gemstone.
The Black Diamond.
It was no mere artifact; it was an object of vile power, a nexus of corruption that linked Hodel’s rituals to a greater darkness. As Sartre stared into the altar’s shimmering depths, he saw visions cascade before him: a thousand murders, a thousand screams, each one feeding the diamond’s insatiable hunger. He recoiled, but the diamond’s whisper followed him, promising secrets and despair in equal measure.
A new figure emerged from the shadows, his presence as jarring as a lightning strike. The man wore a tattered wizard’s robe, its stars and moons faded into dull stains. His face was sharp and angular, his eyes glowing with an eldritch intensity that defied Sartre’s attempts to categorize it.
“Robert Elias,” Sartre murmured, the name coming to him unbidden like a curse from his subconscious.
Elias spoke, his voice a crackling fire in a void. “Do you see it, profiler? The patterns, the symmetries. Hodel is but a pawn. The Black Diamond hungers for more than blood—it seeks the annihilation of the self, the ultimate submission to the cosmic void. Would you understand the intricacies of its design, or shall you stumble blindly in the dark?”
As Elias extended his hand, the scene shifted violently. Sartre’s vision erupted into a kaleidoscope of horrors. The streets of Los Angeles crumbled into a gaping maw, devouring the city in an eruption of black flames. The faces of countless victims blurred together, each one screaming in an endless wail that formed a symphony of despair. And always, at the center, the Black Diamond loomed, its facets catching the light of dying stars.
Sartre’s eyes snapped open, and he found himself back in the bar, the last words of Robert Elias echoed in his mind:
“The patterns are there. Follow them, and you may yet glimpse the truth. But tread carefully, profiler. The abyss is watching.”
"This building has something to do with Robert Elias, he was a wizard. Or perhaps, is a wizard. My guess is he is still alive and in this building." said Sartre.
"Alyssa, are you sure you don't want to try the gin?" asked Sartre.
"No, thanks I want to keep my head about me." Alyssa stated, though the hacker did start looking around the room as she continued to speak. "So, has anyone had to fight off a wizard before?" She paused, then focused back on Peter. "Are you sure he's a wizard and not a warlock?"
"Good point." With some words and a magical light from Sung's sword, his eyes glow, as he now can see all hidden things, magical or not.
Agent Powers gave everyone a smolder then said, "I don't get it." Ekaterina elegantly asked, "What do you not understand?" Agent Powers asked, "Well why are all these guys going out of their way to gain all this power just to destroy the world? I mean if it was me I would be living it up at a fancy hotel or fancy island. It doesn't make sense."
"It is not so much to destroy the world as to make it the way they imagine it," commented Sung, looking over the room.
"Sung's idea sounds correct. I believe they want a world of people they can control. Which means anyone like us, meaning from one of the factions, they'd want to get rid of first." Alyssa responded. The bees and powers made the group harder to control.
Using his now anima-enhanced eyes, nothing will escape his notice. His trained eye looks over the area and through the darkness. He steps forward, his sword at the ready by his side. Hw was waiting for what was hiding in the dark.
"Alyssa, you like rock and roll right? You said you like Guns N Roses?" asked Sartre.
"Yes," Alyssa had no idea why Peter had just asked her that or what it had to do with the current situation.
Agent Powers cocked his head to the side as he muttered, "Guns and Roses? What kind of combination is that?" Ekaterina elegantly smiled as she replied, "Its the name of an older rock band." Agent Powers nodded as he replied, "Ohhhhh. That explains why I don't know them. " Ekaterina elegantly smiled as she said, "If we have time later on I'll teach you a bit about that stuff."
Looking into the darkness, Sung saw someone standing in the shadows. The anima-enhanced form lurked, waiting for the Team to get closer. Sung lifted his hand for the others to stop. He could not get a good reading on whatever it was, and it did not seem to have any weapons he could see. Sung took another step. Its arms moved, and it chanted an incarnation. With little time, a ball of fire formed in its hands, with the magic darkness lingering. It was absurd from sight.
Sung turned and moved his sword in an upward swing, using his spell-breaker technique. As the ball of fire was thrown at the team, his sword glowed when he cut it in half. The ball of fire dissipated into the air. "This guy is no joke," said Sung as he moved in. With a shimmer around the man, he had a magical shield up. Sungs sword glanced off the side as he attacked the anima-enhanced form. It moved with superhuman speed. As it got to the side of Sung. the back dagger thrust at his side, but it hit something hard with a clack. His body armor saved Sung.
Ekaterina had beaten Alyssa to respond, but the hacker did add, "Add the Ramones to the list of music to expose Max to."
It was right after that that Alyssa watched Sung fight what was an invisible foe, though she knew all too well it was real, even before the fireball. "Planning a strategy might not work, if some of the things we are battling are in this room with us." She commented after Sung seemed to have, temporarily, fought off whatever he had been fighting. "What's the likelihood that these - zombies - whatever they are - will disappear with the sunrise?"
Suddenly; the combat with Sung stopped as the room seemingly returned to normal. He can only see visions of people dancing in what looked like the 1940s. It was as if he had just fought a hallucination.