Prologue
Quillon looked down at the computer. He was watching his to-be recruit, Tutankhamen. Quillon was anxious. He had sent in an artist to influence Tutankhamen’s decisions, but Tutankhamen was already 18, and didn't have much time left. Quillon scanned Tutankhamen’s private room, looking for a possible weapon. Suddenly, Tutankhamen’s personal assistant came in, with what looked to be a heavy iron rod. Tutankhamen nodded his head and the man raised the rod above his head and swung down on the back of Tutankhamen’s head. Perfect, Quillon thought. He smiled.
Quillon strolled down the hall with a confident stride. The area was much more open compared to the room he just left, filled with bundles of wiring. He entered Room A. The training room. Every suicide artist got this training. No exceptions. Quillon watched the two children. Their innocent eyes and smiling faces excited him. He loved taking those cherishable traits. “You are suicide artists.” Quillon said in a strong voice, “You have died before the age of 18, enabling this great honor. Before you begin your training you must learn the true secrets of the afterlife. You are not on Earth anymore. You are on Orycul, land of the suicide artists. Tomorrow, your studies begin. Learn the secrets of Orycul and Thicyr. Then, your training begins. This training will take decades, but the time will pass quicker than you think.Then you will officially become a suicide artist. Your powers will be used for the good of Earth.Do not expect any badges or medals. The only reward you will get is guaranteed service. Anything you could ever want you can find here, if you know where to look. We will make the best of your afterlife.”
Quillon heard them clapping as he left the room. He shook his head. Foolish. “Mr.Quillon! Mr.Quillon!”, a rotund techie shouted, “ Tutankhamen!” The man gasped for air.
“Spit it out! What about him?” Quillon yelled. “He is routed for Thicyr”, the man panted.
“Then change the route!” Quillon started to look angry. “Yes but-- um... you see sir, the system has shut down.” The man was scared. “Then use the emergency route!” Quillon barked at him. “Yes sir-- but who?” The man squealed. Quillon thought for a moment. “Get Diablo and send him immediately. He knows the drill.” Quillon spoke fast. The man scurried away. Quillon ran back to the Surveillance Room. He watched as Diablo entered the portal and his life source appeared in the womb of Egyptian woman, seconds before the correct life source was scheduled to appear. Quillon would talk to the officials at Thicyr later. They wouldn’t be happy, but it didn’t matter.This was more important. A few seconds later the baby left the womb.But he wasn’t crying. The baby was already dead.
Quillon switched his computer to the next camera. He saw Diablo holding onto Tutankhamen’s soul as they passed through the tunnel to Thicyr. Diablo pulled the transparent soul into a small side tunnel at the last second, just missing the light. You were a difficult one.Quillon thought. Quillon smiled again.
ΔΙΑΒΑΖΕΙΣ
Death Oracle
Εφηβική ΦαντασίαKing Tut died before the age of 18. Some say his advisers killed him,for power. Some say he had an infection. But what really happened?
