What You Wish For

Marcus Weston stood anxiously in the back of the room, waiting for the auction to begin. On the outside he was calm, austere looking in a gray suit. On the inside, however, he shook with tension. "When is the bloody thing going to start," he wondered.

Today was a private auction where the only path to gain admission was through secret invitation. Some of the world's who's who were in attendance, bidding on priceless art pieces that weren't necessarily on sale legally. None of that mattered to him; all he wanted was the mask.

The main item of the evening was an African mask dating back some thousand years. Marcus had been waiting for this particular mask for two decades. One in a set of three, the two smaller masks hung in his state of the art vault. All that waited was the last piece.

The God of War.

Master of his domain, the God of War was the fiercest of the gods. It would belong to him even if he had to kill for it. Marcus smiled to himself; with a few well placed bribes, he was sure to get the last bid.

"It's mine," he said softly.

"What is it you Americans say, 'don't count your chickens before they've hatched'," a voice spoke over his shoulder.

Lucian Monteverdi, notorious Italian arms dealer, stood beside Marcus with a glass of expensive champagne.

"What do you know about fine art, Lucian?" Marcus spoke with the implication that he was dealing with an insolent child.

Lucian smiled. "The God of War, a great symbol of power that is worth several million dollars. What more is there to know?"

Marcus tried to hide his contempt. Monteverdi had no idea of the mask's true significance.

"It seems a waste of money if you only want a symbol."

"And yet you're willing to bet the same." Lucian raised his glass in mock salute. "Spoils to the victor."

The mask was the last item up for bid. The auction was tight. Two museums as well as a private bidder calling in from Hong Kong competed with him as well as Monteverdi. But in the end there could only be one winner.

The auctioneer's voice rose with each bid. The bidding reached five million dollars, which exceeded his original limit. But the mask called to Marcus almost screaming at him to take it. He raised his paddle without considering of the consequences.  The auctioneer glanced over to Monteverdi to see if he would top the bid. The arms dealer did nothing.

Excitement made Marcus palms sweaty. It was real. He had won! When Monteverdi gave him a terse nod, it took all his control not shout with victory.

The mask was delivered the next morning to his estate by couriers escorted by armed guards. After unwrapping it from the crate, Marcus took it to the vault, hanging it in the center. The set was now complete.

The gods of Anarchy and Chaos hung of either side of the God of War. Each looked ferocious and intense, primarily painted in black and red. Legend told the red paint was made from the blood of their victims.

What would it be like to have that much power, Marcus wondered. To rule all that you saw. Never to be looked on with pity but with fear. To be almighty.

"How I wish I could have such power."

Marcus tore his gaze from the masks and turned to leave when the vault slammed shut and locked into place. A chill went up his arm. The air in the room seemed to still.

"What the -- ?"

The overhead lights went out blanking the vault in the red glow of the emergency bulb.

"Be careful what you wish for," a dark voice called from the mask.

Marcus stood in shock as the God of War's mouth twisted into a cruel smile. The entire world faded to black.

Word Count: 656