The Secret World - Creative Writing

The Secret World is a game that... at this point I don't even know if it is coming out or not; but is a great concept for an MMO based on modern day, using factions like the Templar, Illuminati, and Dragon. These are secret societies in the past, but the game grants these factions special powers, in a world that has gone to hell.

This is a character I wrote in the forum. It is incomplete because I dropped the project, but it's still a good read I think:


Templar Log:

Log of: Rumor, a Reason for my madness

I am an information specialist, who goes only by the name "Rumor". A gun is quick, and if the user wishes: painless. In an instant, a person can simply cease to exist, but with them being extinguished, so too does all they can do for me. It is when an individual is backed into a corner that you can reap every ounce of who they are, and what they know. Their knowledge, is my power. Their wisdom, my weapon. It's when one thinks they know too much that I find out how much they have to contribute to the cause; they become interesting. You may question me... you may say that I believe that I know too much. This is a fallacy . I know so little, that I yearn to know what you know; know what they know. The fun is the path taken for you to spill your soul out for me. Crazy? No. It is my specialty to simply know, and those above me wish to learn as well. But now you know the why, I aim to reveal the how.

It wasn't until my first encounter with a fellow Perfectibilist leaking information of my cabal that I learned I had an inherent gift to make people talk. Of course it didn't matter what he was leaking.. it mattered to who. The cabal insisted on killing him and worrying about the rest for his insolence, but in less than 15 minutes, A meet had been set up with his contact and as the door shut behind me, he took his own life. Fucking coward. Now up to this point it may sound like guns are never the answer, and to that, I have to whole heartedly disagree. It wasn't until I discovered his contact was a member of the Templars that my job became a lot more real. Had this person been un-affiliated with any faction, I would have been happy to leave it at that. But it wasn't just one rich kid looking to learn our secrets, it was a whole faction, and a faction that we have had countless squabbles with. Personally I find the faction wars (it makes it ring true when i say it that way) to be beneath all of us, but there is always something pulling at me that all those chaos lovers and do-gooders need to leave well enough alone. Call it pride if you will, and if you did, you'd probably be right. But we need to take a step back to just why the Templars have a special place at the receiving end of my gun.

I began my operations as an "Information Broker", trading and selling secrets to the highest bidder, just inside Rome, Italy. I wasn't part of any faction at the time, and therefore eluded the petty squabble the major factions were caught up in. It didn't take them long to find me though. I'd call them "scouters", looking to recruit me into their ranks. The first were the Dragon, but their rabble was a bit much for a man looking for nothing but to be the one pulling the strings behind the curtain. They seemed to have a very hands on way of dealing with things, that I felt lacked a certain finesse. No, this isn't one of those stories where the final faction came and swept me off my feet, and I was hooked for life. The illuminati came second with the famous quote "We need a man with your expertise". Their greed pissed me off. Money, power being on top of their so called "new world"? All bullshit. I didn't have time to create a new world. I just wanted to live in the world we had, and make a healthy living doing what felt natural. Then along came the Templars, as one would expect. They loved tradition, purpose, a true warriors faction... warmongers, every last one of them. We need more time to talk about the Templars.

At first, I felt being a Templar would grant me protection from those who felt my practices wrong, unethical. Like somehow killing in cold blood was any better. It didn't take long to figure out that somehow, through a blunder or an act of fate, that I had joined a zealot agent group hell bent (oh the irony) on destroying the evil in the world. Noble as that may be, I wanted no part in it. The so called "evil", which I disagreed on why they were evil, were often my loyal paying customers. If I would have known the hell i'd have to go through, I would have taken longer to choose, or deny all of them, and live as a simple man. I defected only months after being labeled a Templar, and was forced to flee my country... my continent in order to hide from the bastards who were now out for my blood. I know, a foolish idea, but I don't regret it. In New York, it took my current cabal days to find me, and re-initiated the offer which I accepted immediately. I became Illuminati. Call me sentimental, but I still wear my cross necklace. Can't seem to take the damn thing off.

Never leave a faction with their secrets. They’ll haunt you forever. They’ll make sure you never feel safe… make sure you sleep without one eye open. But if there’s one thing you should do, it’d be to join a faction of people who would probably kill for you, for Klondike bar. ‘The Cabal’ as I’ll only refer to it as, often made use of their Cleaners to get rid of these nuisances. Maybe this is why I dislike the Templars… but it’s not like it’s my fault for making me hate them. They only wanted to remove my clients from the world; something about them being the reason for the gross corruption in the world, and how they wanted to purge the evil from our society. I want to believe this zealous nature was part of the particular cabal that I joined, but something tells me they’re all the same. For that I feel like I exist to oppose them. A devil’s advocate for sure, but killing my clients and ruining my intelligence trails is personal.

That’s all fine and dandy, but it undoubtedly begs the question: “Why do you hate them so much if that’s all they’ve done to you?” They’ve turned him against me. My younger brother, who I always protected and cared about first, now brainwashed into trying to claiming me as a heretic; a non-believer. I never thought I’d be face to face with him as the man who would try to take my life. He would have succeeded too. I was a finger twitch away from death, from meeting the greater power who made me (according to my x-Templar brethrens), such a terrible person. All I can say is, I got lucky.

I had closed my eyes, and pulled his gun closer to my heart, begging him to take me out of this world if he believed that it was my time to go. I encouraged him, asked him if he was going to be the man to end the madness. Maybe I knew too much, and the knowledge finally caught up with me. Maybe that higher power, whatever it may be, decided I tore too much information from peoples bleeding minds for me to be allowed to leave. I had no grand plan but to live in happiness and wealth, doing what I do best. Is that so wrong? So wrong that this man, my brother, was told to end my life, knowing that he’d be the only man I’d let in close enough to be able to pull the trigger? I thought I knew my brother well enough to be able to call his bluff. As I closed my eyes, the resounding gunshot rang out. I looked down, feeling the blood oozing out of the fresh hole in my chest .The room was spinning, the man who held the gun, my brother, standing above me now kneeling; the victor. I died that night, or at least that’s what they thought.

The muffled sounds.. voices perhaps. I couldn't tell, it was too hazy. My eyes were too heavy to open. Was this heaven... hell? The voices began to sharpen, clarifying.

"No damnit! this is your mess! This is what you get for allowing allowing him to go off alone!"

More muffled voices.. My head was pounding, fading in an out of consciousness.

"No you don't get it! It's gone, they have it now" ...
"He's here. If he's not dead, he damn well should be. There's..." ...
"Fine. but you owe me. This doesn't come..."

The conversation was sketchy at best. I could only fit pieces together to string any form of sentences. Either the man was talking to himself, or he was on the phone. I was inclined to believe the ladder. My eyes opened, as a new born's would, the light burning them as if they'd never see it before. I tossed my arm up, cords unbinding themselves, sliding out from under my skin. More voices, but this time they were directed at me. I didn't hesitate. Sliding off the tabletop, i began to knock over anything i could in a feeble attempt to distance myself from the man. A wall... My back hit cold stone; smooth and unwelcoming.

"Rumor.. It's.... calm down. stop...."

My eyes focused only for a second... then darkness.