"I can't believe I forgot to buy a few things for dinner." A woman's voice came from outside.
"Liss, sweetheart, help me with the bags when we get inside."
The Crimson King turned his gaze toward the man suspended before him.
The woman's arrival did little to disrupt his plans. In fact, it might prove convenient.
If the boy wasn't home, perhaps his family knew where to find him.
And if they didn't, he could always force them to talk.
The front door opened.
"Lon? Are you home?" The woman entered carrying several bags and fell silent as soon as she saw the unfamiliar man dressed in black.
Her expression shifted from surprise to confusion.
"Who are you?"
The Crimson King released the man.
He fell to the floor and began coughing violently, clutching his throat with both hands.
"Lon!" The woman dropped the bags and rushed to his side.
"What happened? What did he do to you?"
Lon tried to answer, but fear prevented him from forming the words.
"Get out of my house!" he finally shouted, pointing at the intruder. "Get out right now!"
The Crimson King ignored him.
His attention was fixed on the woman.
He studied her for several seconds, assessing her reactions. She didn't appear to possess any special abilities, nor did she show any signs of understanding what was happening.
However, she was Jake's mother.
And that made her potentially useful.
"Mrs. Laurie Chambers," the Crimson King said with a smile. "You've arrived just in time for us to meet."
Laurie froze.
"How do you know my name?"
"I have my ways."
Lon struggled to his feet and positioned himself in front of her.
"Stay away from my family!"
The Crimson King sighed.
"How touching. The man of the house is trying to protect his loved ones."
Having said that, he raised a hand, ready to put an end to the conversation.
But then he heard something that made him stop.
"Wait!" Laurie exclaimed, grabbing Lon by the arm. "Wait a moment!"
The Crimson King slowly turned his head toward her.
Laurie stared at him with growing horror. Her eyes searched his face as fragments of memory began to fall into place.
"I... I've seen you before."
The Crimson King's smile faded slightly.
"Have you?"
Laurie took a step backward and whispered in terror, "It can't be..."
Lon looked at her in confusion.
"Laurie, what are you talking about?"
But she didn't answer.
Her attention remained fixed on the man, on his features and that expression that seemed far too familiar.
Then she remembered the drawings.
The countless drawings Jake had made over the past few weeks. The strange faces, the impossible landscapes, and the figures her son claimed to have seen in his nightmares.
And among them all, the same man always appeared.
A man dressed in black.
A man whose existence Jake had tried to explain again and again, without anyone being willing to believe him.
"You're..." Laurie swallowed hard. "You're the man in Jake's drawings."
For the first time since entering the house, the Crimson King stopped smiling.
His gaze grew piercing.
"The drawings?" The Crimson King took a step toward her.
"Where are they?"
Laurie instinctively backed away, wrapping her arms around herself.
"I..."
"Where are they?"
A supernatural pressure began to spread throughout the room. The furniture trembled slightly, and the windows creaked, making Lon look around in growing terror.
The Crimson King raised his hand, prepared to use his magic to tear the answer from her if necessary.
But before he could do so, a deafening noise shook the house.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The windows exploded inward.
A shower of glass covered the floor as several armed figures stormed into the house. They wore tactical uniforms, bulletproof vests, and assault rifles equipped with optical sights.
"TARGET IN SIGHT! ALL UNITS, OPEN FIRE!"
Gunfire filled the room.
A hail of bullets tore through the space where the Crimson King stood, destroying part of the furniture and blasting fragments of wood from the walls.
Lon threw himself to the floor and covered Laurie with his body.
"Get down! Get down!"
"Lisa!"
The soldiers advanced in formation, spreading out between the entrances and the shattered windows. Some covered the flanks while others kept their weapons trained on the stranger.
They weren't ordinary police officers.
Their equipment, coordinated movements, and the speed with which they secured the house made it clear that they belonged to a unit trained to deal with threats far more dangerous than an ordinary criminal.
And yet, the Crimson King remained standing.
The bullets had stopped just inches from his body, suspended in midair by an invisible barrier.
For several seconds, no one moved.
The unit commander watched the scene with a grim expression.
"Don't stop firing! Hold your formation!"
The soldiers obeyed.
The Crimson King slowly lowered his gaze to the bullets floating before him.
Then he looked at the men who had dared to interrupt him.
His expression no longer showed surprise.
Only irritation.
"Do you really think those little weapons can hurt me?"
He clenched his hand.
All the bullets fell to the floor at once.
The silence lasted barely a moment.
Then one of the soldiers abandoned his position and advanced along the left flank. His movements were so fast and precise that even the Crimson King had to turn his head slightly to follow him.
The soldier fired a controlled burst, but he didn't aim for the target's chest.
He aimed for the joints.
Another soldier moved simultaneously on the opposite side, seeking a different firing angle, while a third threw a smoke grenade into the center of the room.
A gray cloud spread across the floor.
"Team Two, right flank! Team Three, secure the civilians!"
The commander coordinated his men with astonishing precision.
They weren't acting like a group of soldiers who simply fired at an unknown enemy. Every movement had a purpose, every man seemed to know his role, and no one wasted ammunition unnecessarily.
The Crimson King narrowed his eyes.
This was strange.
Very strange.
Instead of retreating in the face of a supernatural force that should have terrified them, these men were adapting to the situation.
They were even attempting to exploit their adversary's limitations.
Who had trained them?
The question had barely crossed his mind before he decided to put an end to this charade.
He raised his right hand.
An invisible force struck the soldiers nearest him, hurling them against the walls. Their rifles flew from their hands, and several bodies crumpled to the floor.
However, the survivors didn't break formation.
Two men dragged their wounded comrades into cover while the rest continued firing, searching for any opportunity to attack.
The commander raised his weapon.
"Hold the line! Don't give him time to react!"
The Crimson King looked directly at him.
For the first time, his expression changed for a reason other than irritation.
He recognized this kind of discipline.
It wasn't perfect, but neither was it the product of conventional military training.
The soldiers were learning to fight something that surpassed their physical capabilities. Their movements, the way they covered one another, and their willingness to advance despite their casualties reminded him of an ancient tradition he had believed to be all but extinct.
The tradition of the gunslingers.
The Crimson King let out a low chuckle.
"Interesting..."
A soldier lunged at him from his blind spot, wielding a combat knife. Before he could reach his target, the Crimson King spun on his heel and seized his wrist.
The man tried to break free and struck with his other hand, but his opponent lifted him off the ground with insulting ease.
"Tell me, soldier... Who taught you to fight like that?"
The man didn't answer.
Instead of begging for mercy, he took advantage of their proximity to activate a device attached to his vest.
An explosive blast shook the room.
The Crimson King barely took half a step backward, but the soldier managed to break free and roll across the floor into cover.
The smile on the black-clad man's face widened.
"Well, well..." The Crimson King glanced at the soldier who had just escaped, then looked at the rest of the unit.
"You're not ordinary soldiers."
His gaze swept over their stances, their weapons, and the way they moved through the room.
He had watched countless armies fight throughout his existence. He had seen warriors from different worlds face creatures that surpassed them in strength, and he had destroyed entire civilizations whose soldiers believed discipline could compensate for any disadvantage.
But these men had something more.
A method.
A way of fighting that seemed designed to confront superior enemies, taking advantage of every opportunity to narrow the gap between their abilities and those of their adversary.
It was a technique he recognized.
A technique that belonged to the gunslingers.
The Crimson King slowly raised his head.
"Who's training the soldiers of this reality?"
No one answered.
The commander signaled with his hand, and the survivors changed positions, preparing for another attack.
The Crimson King smiled.
He was no longer interested solely in Jake Chambers.
Now he had a new mystery to investigate.
And if these soldiers had been trained by someone who knew the ancient gunslinger techniques, then perhaps the situation was far more interesting than he had imagined.
He raised both hands.
The entire room began to tremble.
"Very well, little gunslingers..."
A wave of dark energy spread from his body, racing along the walls and lifting the furniture off the floor. The soldiers tried to hold their positions, but the supernatural pressure began forcing them down against the ground.
The Crimson King advanced among them without haste.
"Let's see how long your training lasts when you're facing someone who actually knows how to kill."
The first soldier tried to stand.
The Crimson King moved a finger.
The man was hurled against a wall and collapsed unconscious.
Another attempted to fire at point-blank range, but his rifle folded in on itself before he could pull the trigger.
One by one, the soldiers were neutralized by that overwhelming force.
Even as they fell, however, they continued trying to protect their comrades and keep the civilians out of the line of fire.
This made the Crimson King feel a mixture of amusement and contempt.
"What a waste of talent."
At last, the commander was left standing alone before him.
His face was covered in dust, a wound marked his forehead, and his uniform was torn in several places. Even so, he kept his weapon raised.
"You... won't... take another step."
The Crimson King regarded him with curiosity.
"You know? I could kill you right now."
The commander gritted his teeth.
"Then... you'll have to."
The Crimson King's smile slowly disappeared.
For a moment, the room fell silent.
Then the man dressed in black raised his hand.
The commander was ripped off the floor and hurled against the ceiling with brutal force. His body crashed down amid the wreckage of the furniture, and his weapon slid out of reach.
The unit had been defeated.
The Crimson King brushed a speck of dust from his sleeve and looked around.
"At least you managed to entertain me."
Then he remembered the interrupted conversation.
The drawings.
Jake.
The boy's mother.
He turned toward Laurie and Lon, who remained huddled beside the wall.
The woman's eyes were filled with tears, while the man could barely remain standing.
"Now that we've dealt with the interruptions, let's return to our conversation."
Laurie clung to Lon, trying to shield him from the monster.
"Please... leave us alone."
The Crimson King ignored her.
"You told me you've seen drawings of me. I want to know where they are."
The woman trembled.
"Jake has them..."
"The boy?"
"I don't know. He's not here."
The Crimson King studied her for several seconds, trying to determine whether she was telling the truth.
"It doesn't matter. Sooner or later, he'll come home."
He approached the shattered doorway and stopped before leaving.
His gaze swept across the house one last time.
"And when he does, tell him his old friend came to visit."
He vanished in a flash of dark energy.
For several seconds, no one dared to move.
Only when the supernatural pressure had completely disappeared did Laurie collapse to the floor and begin to cry.
Lon tried to embrace her, but his hands were trembling too much.
All around them, the remains of the house lay scattered everywhere. The soldiers who had stormed the home were unconscious or gravely wounded, and the distant sound of sirens was growing closer.
None of them knew who that man was.
None of them understood what he was really after.
But they had all learned one thing.
The man in the drawings was real.
And he had come for Jake.
...
Somewhere in the Inverted World
The Crimson King appeared before a new spatial opening.
Behind him stretched the desolate landscape of that reality, where the ruins of ancient civilizations disappeared beneath a dark sky.
He stopped and studied the portal he had just passed through.
His visit to the Chambers family had proved more interesting than expected. Not only had he confirmed that Jake remained connected to the Dark Tower, but he had also discovered the existence of a military force that appeared to have preserved the techniques of the ancient gunslingers.
That couldn't be a coincidence.
Someone was preparing those men.
Someone knew the secrets of a tradition that should have disappeared along with Gilead.
And if his suspicions were correct, this discovery could have consequences far more significant than the mere capture of a child.
The Crimson King raised his gaze toward the horizon.
"Jonathan Belmont..." His smile slowly returned.
"Looks like you're not the only one who's decided to play games with me."
A current of dark energy enveloped his body.
In the next instant, he vanished, leaving behind a reality that would soon discover what it meant to become the Crimson King's next target.