A few years ago I wrote a series of short fiction pieces that were included in the Era: The Empowered Roleplaying Game, published by Shades of Vengeance. A fifth anniversary edition of the game is due to be released in early 2024 I believe.

I had great fun writing the shorts and Ed Jowett, the man behind the Era range and MD of Shades of Vengeance, has kindly allowed me to share the fiction here on the blog.

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February Year 2. Lobo Faces The Atlanteans by Angus Abranson (first published in Era: The Empowered RPG Core Rulebook)

When these ‘Atlanteans’ first emerged from the seas it was chaos. They disrupted the natural order of things on the streets, in the halls of power. That meant it was bad for business, which meant the cartels were not pleased. On the streets we saw the cartels paramilitary groups working alongside the police to take down the undersea invaders and protect their assets. Corrupt officials were being targeted just as equally as their law-abiding ones, and the cartels didn’t want to see all the time and money they had invested in their ‘friends’ washed out to sea. That’s not to say they didn’t take advantage of the situation in other ways, removing some ‘thorns’ of their own from the picture, offering protection to others for future ‘favors’ and alliances.

But anything that disrupted the cartels was good, yes? Well, yes and no. Yes, it was causing major disruption and inconvenience for them. But in doing so it was also causing major disruption and inconvenience for me. Years of planning was being ruined. Networks I had spent gathering information on, infiltrating, and rising up the ranks of, were being torn asunder due to the chaos and upheaval. Plus there were innocents being caught up in the invasion and resulting violence and confusion. Innocents that needed protection and that made it my fight too. Too much blood on the streets, and not enough of it was the bad guys, from below or above the waterlines.

Now I’m tough. I don’t possess the superhuman strength, the armored skin, or any fancy powers like the Atlanteans, or those ‘heroes’ fighting them elsewhere, but I know how to fight and can pack a punch that can knock out, or kill, most people. I also never give up. I’m  obstinate like that. I like to think it’s endearing, although it seems my enemies, and allies, disagree with my assessment. Like I take notice of what they think. Huh.

Anyway, my strength alone isn’t taking these Atlanteans down. Gotta think outside the box. There’s a saying that claims “Two heads are always better than one”. Usually don’t hold much truck with sayings, but in this case it was Samuel who came up with an idea. I liked it. I liked it more as it was really going to piss off the Empress of Bones.

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Part one of the plan. Getting the Atlanteans where I wanted them.

I’d managed to ambush a group of Atlanteans heading to the Governors house. Got them mad enough that they forgot all about getting to her and decide to take me down instead. I like to think that they have instructions to take me out ‘cause I’ve been such a pain in their grey skinned arses. That I’ve interfered with their plans one too many times they have tiny waterproof posters of me hanging up in their underwater barracks with ‘Most Wanted’ stamped all over it. Maybe a reward of a million pearls, or whatever passes for pesos where they come from. Maybe my face even appears as a cabllo or rey on a deck of cards.

In truth, I think I just pissed off the guy in charge of the group. It’s my sparkling personality and wit. Whatever, it worked.

I know the streets, and rooftops, like the back of my hand. The alleyways, short cuts, even, unfortunately, the sewers. I can disappear with ease, but I actually found it much harder not to lose them. To keep them following me without alerting them that I was actually wanting to lure them back towards the docks.

I needed to make sure my distance was right. Close enough that they would see which warehouse I went into, but far enough away that I once I was inside I’d have the time to prepare myself.

The warehouse I was luring them to was actually one of the best kept ones on the docks. All mod cons, deluxe office space, climate controlled warehousing, great air con, sprinkler systems in case of fires, CCTVs everywhere, etc. The best drug money could buy, and it took a while for Samuel to circumnavigate the security systems so they were now just looping images from a couple of days ago. I’d already gone in and dealt with the guards, and no other personnel were on site due to the Atlantean attacks.

I crept in under the large steel roller doors into the darkened warehouse, getting into position and waiting for the Atlanteans to follow, putting all the ways this could go wrong to the back of my mind.

The Atlanteans filed in, under the rollers, weapons drawn and en garde. I let them move cautiously into the darkened warehouse. Their eyes accustomed to the darkness of the undersea so climatizing to the lack of light with speed. They spotted me almost instantly. Standing arms raised in front of a large industrial fan, which had been part of the warehouses air con system up until earlier in the day.

“Damn! Hello boys, can we talk about this?” I uttered through the respirator that had been fitted to my mask. The Atlanteans spread out in a semi-circle as they advanced on me. “I guess not, oh well… Welcome to the party then.”

As I finished the command word Samuel, in a control room somewhere, flicked a switch which lit up the interior of the warehouse as bright as day, whilst the shutters sealed shut. “First a gift from your home…” I shouted as I grabbed a nearby hose and doused the recoiling Atlanteans in water, “…and then a gift from my home!”, I continued as the fan started up at the same time that the tarpaulins that had been hanging in the rafters unfurled dropping tons of the Empress’ white powder down like snowfall.

Caught in the wind, the powder whipped about, creating a blizzard that I couldn’t see through. Without my respirator I’d have been choking, but the Atlanteans didn’t have the same protection. Right now the cocaine would be engulfing them, sticking to their wet skin like paste, blocking their gills, the powder clogging their noses, their throats, suffocating them.

After a few minutes the fan switched off and, as the remaining flakes of the cocaine drifted serenely down, I was confronted with five coated bodies, forming mounds amongst the snowy vista. “I should have brought some carrots, always wanted to make a snowman.” I muttered to myself as I walked towards the exit, leaving only my footprints and the Atlantean corpses behind.