One…
The only sound that filled the narrow corridor was the soft footfalls of the security guard, his boots thumping lightly against the hardwood. Expensive, polished hardwood. He was nearing the corner where Osiris waited, his form coiled tightly beneath a crate of supplies awaiting a transfer to some floor or another.
Two…
The flash of the guard’s flashlight illuminated the hall. He remained still as stone, waiting in silence as the lamp swung down one end of the hall, bathing the darkness in a sharp, crisp light that only deepened the shadows to a pitch black. Swiftly, the lamp swung in the other direction, lighting the other end of the corridor. The guard let his lamp fall to his hip as he lifted his radio, muttering into the small square of plastic.
“Red Zone: all-clear.” He released the radio at his shoulder and turned to begin his circuit again.
Three.
Quick as a flash, he dashed from one side of the opening to the next, only a hush of noise betraying him as a pencil rolled from the top of the crate, rolling lazily across the hall floor. The doorway lit up like midday, everything in the corridor masked in a white light as the guard turned. As the man advanced slowly on the corner, Osiris was already gone. Footfalls lighter than feathers, movements fluid and lightning fast, he had flashed past the corridor opening and had darted to the end of the long hall, coming to a locked door.
Simple enough.
He reached to his hip, unrolling his lock picking set and selecting the simple long-hook pick and tension wrench, he set to work at the door. Each tumbler clicked into place, until finally the lock opened, the handle on the door turning on a heavily greased mechanism. It was absolutely silent. The stairwell was a stark darkness, only intermittently broken by a bright light above the landing of the floors above him. Quickly, he moved through the shadows, just inside the sight of the landing to the cameras aimed directly at each of the doors.
He pulled his pistol from his belt, long suppressor locked tightly against the mouth of the barrel. Each whisper of the pistol was another camera destroyed, one by one the devices went offline. He only had a few minutes before they were noticed. He moved quick, climbing the flights of stairs with an easy speed. Stairs, camera, stairs, camera. It was a simple rotation of run and gun. He reached the stairs and checked his watch. Five minutes left.
He wasn’t going to make it out before they were on his ***.
He had come too far to stop now. He reached the top floor, the destroyed camera dangling by a wire from the wall, the light smashed and out. The door was locked with a heavy electronic mechanism. He pulled a cell phone from his pocket, a wire running from either of the top corners of the battery hatch. He attached each of the wires to a terminal on the lock, the phone flickering to life. Numbers flicked across the screen, one by one locking into place from left to right, until the lock made a shrill beep, the light switching from red to green.
****.
He hadn’t accounted for the sound of the lock.
As he slipped through the door, footsteps thudded through the entire floor. Guards were coming, and fast. Hurriedly, he cut into the first office, letting the door shut silently behind him. He watched as the first pair of lights flashed past him, then another. A third pair flashed and the voices started, confused at the locked door. Quietly, he slipped from the closet and rushed to the center of the floor while the guards were gathered around the door.
He moved swiftly through the hall, passing an empty security point, the guards now on their way back. Quickly, he knelt behind the center pedestal, a heavy glass case crowning the black stand. Inside, the frosted security glass kept the objective hidden from sight during the office’s off hours. The penthouse corporate office was lavish. Any common thief would have been hopelessly caught, without knowing what they were there for. He was surrounded by wealth, the very carpet worth more than some families would bring home over the next three years. What he was here for was vastly more valuable, more important.
A small black disc clicked to the glass, a steel wire running to the diamond-tipped cutter in his hand acting to create a perfectly circular cut in the glass. He reached inside, pulling the object from its mount. He had to act quick, his grasp retracting in an instant as an alarm blared to life, a heavy lead wall falling around the glass box, threatening to sever any arm that dared to reach inside. His back was to the wall, a heavy bronze dagger clutched to his chest, the scabbard a plan wound leather. It was the one. After three heists the exact same, three false daggers, he finally had the one that he was after.
Pushing it into his pack, he stood just as the door to the office burst open, light flooding the room as shouts filled the air. Automatic gunfire filled the air, countless thousands of dollars scattered to the wind with each round fired. He moved with precision and determination, throwing his weight against the window of the penthouse, the glass shattering beneath the momentum, his entire body flung to the abyss, darkness yawning beneath him, all the way back to the unlit alley behind the office building.
As he fell past the rooftop adjacent to the alley, he ran a hand along his arm, a shadow blacker than the night burst from his hand, licking at the air like a living flame as he fell. He twisted the blade of darkness, biting into the brick of the building and slowing his fall to a halt. When he came to a stop, he flicked his wrist, the blade vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. He fell the last four inches to the earth beneath him, hands tucking into his pockets as he idly strolled through the darkness, the sounds of shouts and alarms filling the air around the office as he turned the corner in the dark alley, leaving the block behind him.
As quickly as he had smashed the office’s defenses and appeared, he had escaped and vanished. The tome tucked into his coat was his failsafe, his ace in the hole. It got him out of every situation, and it didn’t fail him tonight. Only a few steps down the alley, and he had vanished, safe again in the Pandemonium, the underground hotel his family had taken as their stronghold.
It was late, he knew. He had hoped to have this finished the night before. He had been so certain he had the right one, but when he had plucked the previous dagger from its case, it had disintegrated into dust, leaving him with little than a handful of ashes. He could hardly present that as a gift. It was better late than not at all, he supposed.
He set his pack on the counter of the front desk, and grimaced. Finally, with the adrenaline ebbing aside, he noticed the bullet in his shoulder. He couldn’t help but a single hysterical laugh as he lifted a hand to the gaping hole in his arm. The projectile had passed through his flesh, leaving behind little more than a flesh wound. It would heal.
He didn’t concern himself with it any further, instead leaning against the counter, his back to his pack as he found his phone, texting his sire.
Hey.
You’re not home are you?
A Slight Delay Due To Technical Complications {Micah}
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Osiris (DELETED 5735)
- Posts: 112
- Joined: 16 Oct 2014, 11:44
- CrowNet Handle: LordofSilence
A Slight Delay Due To Technical Complications {Micah}
In Vengeance and Despair
#4080FF
-
Micah
- Registered User
- Posts: 3867
- Joined: 22 May 2011, 00:12
- CrowNet Handle: FuckYourMorals
Re: A Slight Delay Due To Technical Complications {Micah}
It had been ages since he’d been given a task to complete for Masterpiece Procurements. That was Vel’s thing and once in awhile he just went along for the ride. There had been a few times she’d been called away for business, but he hadn’t asked her for the particulars and she hadn’t offered the details. And then of course, there was the job they had done together collecting livers for a creepy old man. What he wanted with him they had never discovered but he and Vel had certainly had a good time trying to figure out what was going to happen to the organs. Vel thought the old man wanted them for experimental purposes but Micah thought the creepy as **** sickly *********** wanted to dine on them. Either scenario was equally disturbing but that was then and they both decided that after that they wouldn’t be taking another job dealing with live human body parts. Just...**** no.
The task had been given to him in a plain white business envelope. There were, of course, others that could have taken the job except there was a catch. It required someone with superb skills in thievery, and Vel trusted no one but him to take it on. Once he opened the envelope and read the particulars he could see why. As it was, it was going to be tricky.
There was a particular art exhibit in town at the museum that was under heavy guard. In that exhibit there was a particular item that was being sought after by any means necessary. The Spear of Destiny was a sacred relic. It was said that the owner could control the world with it. Who wouldn’t want it? It was only in town for a few days so the time frame he had to accomplish such a feat was short. The sum of cash Vel was getting to pull this whole thing off was astronomical and the last thing Micah wanted to do was **** it up. Not that Vel would care as neither needed the money. But it was her reputation on the line and he would be damned if he failed.
He stood in front of the museum dressed entirely in black. A pair of black gloves covered his hands and he was holding a soft, velvet bag that he planned to use to transport the spear. It would do until he could get it into the box that had been delivered to Vel specifically for the item. Damaging the item was out of the question. It would be useless to the buyer, and then they’d be stuck with it and nothing to show for their efforts. That too, was unacceptable. Squaring his shoulders, the killer drew in a deep, unneeded breath of air and pulled the shadows in close to his body to conceal his form. Showtime.
Using an electronic lockpick on the door he slipped in unnoticed easily bypassing the security cameras. The exhibit itself wasn’t hard to find. Signs were posted along the walls, proudly announcing the exhibit of ancient religious artifacts for a limited time. His footsteps were silent as he moved through the darkened corridors, ducking into an alcove here and there to avoid the security guards that patrolled the halls. It took him several minutes but finally, he was standing in front of the heavily secured glass case that held the spear. This was going to be tricky.
As he stood there contemplating his next move, the phone in his pocket gave a high pitched whistle. “****,” he whispered as the sound echoed around the room. Shouts could be heard followed by running footsteps from the guards as his presence was detected. He was not going to leave without that ******* spear. He stepped over the ropes and as he did alarms sounded, the shrill sound hurting his ears. Time was running out. Quickly he used his fist to shatter the glass (so much for unbreakable, as the small sign declared) and grabbed the spear, hastily wrapping it in the soft velvet. Producing a smoke bomb the killer threw it on the floor and disappeared just as the guards appeared at the entrance to the room. Once he was safely outside Micah secured the spear and pulled out his phone to find a text from Osiris. Scowling, he tapped out a quick response.
“You have **** timing dude, almost got my *** caught. What do you need?”
The task had been given to him in a plain white business envelope. There were, of course, others that could have taken the job except there was a catch. It required someone with superb skills in thievery, and Vel trusted no one but him to take it on. Once he opened the envelope and read the particulars he could see why. As it was, it was going to be tricky.
There was a particular art exhibit in town at the museum that was under heavy guard. In that exhibit there was a particular item that was being sought after by any means necessary. The Spear of Destiny was a sacred relic. It was said that the owner could control the world with it. Who wouldn’t want it? It was only in town for a few days so the time frame he had to accomplish such a feat was short. The sum of cash Vel was getting to pull this whole thing off was astronomical and the last thing Micah wanted to do was **** it up. Not that Vel would care as neither needed the money. But it was her reputation on the line and he would be damned if he failed.
He stood in front of the museum dressed entirely in black. A pair of black gloves covered his hands and he was holding a soft, velvet bag that he planned to use to transport the spear. It would do until he could get it into the box that had been delivered to Vel specifically for the item. Damaging the item was out of the question. It would be useless to the buyer, and then they’d be stuck with it and nothing to show for their efforts. That too, was unacceptable. Squaring his shoulders, the killer drew in a deep, unneeded breath of air and pulled the shadows in close to his body to conceal his form. Showtime.
Using an electronic lockpick on the door he slipped in unnoticed easily bypassing the security cameras. The exhibit itself wasn’t hard to find. Signs were posted along the walls, proudly announcing the exhibit of ancient religious artifacts for a limited time. His footsteps were silent as he moved through the darkened corridors, ducking into an alcove here and there to avoid the security guards that patrolled the halls. It took him several minutes but finally, he was standing in front of the heavily secured glass case that held the spear. This was going to be tricky.
As he stood there contemplating his next move, the phone in his pocket gave a high pitched whistle. “****,” he whispered as the sound echoed around the room. Shouts could be heard followed by running footsteps from the guards as his presence was detected. He was not going to leave without that ******* spear. He stepped over the ropes and as he did alarms sounded, the shrill sound hurting his ears. Time was running out. Quickly he used his fist to shatter the glass (so much for unbreakable, as the small sign declared) and grabbed the spear, hastily wrapping it in the soft velvet. Producing a smoke bomb the killer threw it on the floor and disappeared just as the guards appeared at the entrance to the room. Once he was safely outside Micah secured the spear and pulled out his phone to find a text from Osiris. Scowling, he tapped out a quick response.
“You have **** timing dude, almost got my *** caught. What do you need?”
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Osiris (DELETED 5735)
- Posts: 112
- Joined: 16 Oct 2014, 11:44
- CrowNet Handle: LordofSilence
Re: A Slight Delay Due To Technical Complications {Micah}
Leaning his hip against the hotel’s counter, he held the dagger in his hand. It was old. Ancient. Powerful, apparently. To look at, it wasn’t very impressive. Cast from bronze, he doubted it would pierce today’s Kevlar armor, much less the steel plate of centuries past. The scabbard was soft, malleable gold crusted in gems. The elegant curve of the blade, however, whispered of masterful craftsmanship. When he pulled the blade free of its sheath, the decorative scrollwork inlaid into the bronze was still as dark as the day it was forged. Black iron, a metal that should have rusted away a thousand years ago, was as pristine as the day it had been poured into the grooves in the bronze.
The runes themselves were powerful. He could feel the influence this little dagger boasted radiating through his touch. There was no denying that it was an incredibly potent artifact, but the story of its origins left him highly suspect.
He tossed the blade nonchalantly, the sheathed blade flipping through the air as he glanced about the lobby, not watching as the ancient object tumbled through the air. Without looking, he caught it by the hilt, and tossed it into the air again. The heft was nice. Heavy enough to feel solid, but light enough that someone that had actually used a weapon like this could have flicked it with an unhindered speed. The balance was impeccable, each toss landing perfectly in his palm again. It was a shame that this blade was never intended for combat. It would have been an impressive tool for any assassin with a message to send. Instead, as the rumored history claimed, the artifact was a powerful conduit for dark “magics.”
He never really had believed in that sort of thing. Magic, the supernatural, the spiritual. None of that nonsense. Micah had opened a real door, there. It was like he had been living in an apartment his entire life, never knowing that the building around him had a thousand rooms just like his own; never mind the outside world. The realm of infinite possibility had a real, tangible meaning to him now. He had seen things in the past few months; things he had never believed were possible. Things he would have laughed in your face for even suggesting. One might say that his eyes had been truly opened.
As the blade flipped through the air again, his phone finally dinged, the message he had been waiting for. He lifted the phone, catching the blade again without looking. Thumb scrolling over the screen, he couldn’t help but laugh at the man’s text. “Maybe next time, you put your phone on silent. That’s textbook, man. Come on.” He chuckled, and tapped at the screen saying as much in text.
COMPOSED TEXT
TO: MICAH
Sorry about that.
Would have thought you
had your phone on silent.
Besides. Someone has
to make things
challenging for you,
elsewise you would
get bored.
Anyway. You think you
can meet me in the
Panda? Got something
for you to check out.
Tapping ‘send,’ he returned to tossing the knife. Really, though, he wondered if Micah would even want it. If he would even care. None of them really seemed like the holiday type, and if he was honest, he hadn’t spent enough time with the man to really know how he felt about gifts. To be frank, though, he didn’t rightly care how the man felt about receiving something simply because it was a certain day. He liked the ********, and he wanted to show him that he really did care about him whether he liked it or not.
He caught the blade, and looked at it carefully. He knit his brows, and shook his head. “Maybe I should make this thing presentable. Hardly fitting to just hand it over.” He glanced around the lobby and sighed. Looked like it was going to be the merchant they kept on hand. The man was holed up nicely in a neat little corner of the lobby, a pristine marble counter all about him to display his wares, a neat set of shelves behind him to display the more choice, expensive or rare items.
What he needed, however, was something less fantastic.
He leaned into the counter, tucking the blade into his belt as he looked the man in the eye, onyx orbs looking over the man’s face before he smiled. “Evening, sir. I was wondering if you might have a box? Something ornate… polished, with a velvet lining? I have an expensive blade I’m wanting to gift someone. I know you are a purveyor of fine arms, and thought you might have something of the sort for presentation. I’ll pay full price for one.”
The man made a face, like he had tasted something sour. His face scrunched in thought, he ran a hand along the polished marble feeling its cold surface before he gave a slow, deliberate nod. “I might have just the thing.” He knelt, vanishing beneath the counter. Suddenly standing alone at the stall, Osiris flicked his black stare from the shop’s shelves to glance idly around the lobby. It was strangely quiet. He didn’t see any of the family, which was highly unusual. It was, he supposed, due to the holidays, perhaps. None of them appeared to be the festive types, but maybe in spite of the bristly exteriors they were merry little motherfuckers. He couldn’t really be sure, to be honest.
In a flurry of movement, the shop keep bolted upright again, a grey blur of old, wrinkled flesh and limp salt-and-pepper hair as he carefully, but quickly, set a polished ebony box on the counter. The inlay was solid gold, the lid’s clasp made of the same precious metal. The box, without the gold work was supremely valuable. Ebony was a rare and beautiful wood. He flipped the clasp, slowly lifting the lid. Inside, black velvet lined the box with a soft, plush cushion. It was perfect. Perfect, of course, meant expensive. Eyes darker than the wood of the box lifted to the man’s sly, greedy grin.
He didn’t even have to ask.
“Nine hundred dollars, not a penny less.” Osiris couldn’t hide his smile. Nine hundred was pocket change. He would know. He had his hands in half the pockets in Harper Rock these nights. He reached for his billfold, and flipped open the solid silver clip, deft fingers flipping through the large bills, counting out an even ten, and sliding them across the counter. “Keep the extra. For really pulling through when I needed it.” He gave the old man a smile as the elder bowed his head in thanks. He took the box, and lifted the blade from his belt, settling the weapon gingerly atop the soft velvet cushion. It was perfect.
He closed the lid, fastening the clasp as he walked back to the reception counter. Honestly, he had all night. Rion had been asleep for days now, tired or sick or… something else. He was really confused on the details, but he couldn’t exactly ask her about it while she was unconscious, now could he?
He pushed his hand through midnight strands of hair, moving to take a seat on the counter while he waited. He doubted the man would be long, if he decided to show. He was typically quick about things.
If he didn’t show, well, he supposed he could leave the gift by the man’s room. He doubted that anyone here would be inclined to take something so atypical from in front of the man’s door. He was quite a fearsome force, and he didn’t even want to think about the kind of fury that would fall on someone’s head for trying to steal from him.
Even if he had half a mind to do just that himself.
For fun.
Suddenly, he found himself eyeing the door to where he and Vel kept a room in the hotel. It would be rather entertaining…
But, not tonight.
Maybe.
The runes themselves were powerful. He could feel the influence this little dagger boasted radiating through his touch. There was no denying that it was an incredibly potent artifact, but the story of its origins left him highly suspect.
He tossed the blade nonchalantly, the sheathed blade flipping through the air as he glanced about the lobby, not watching as the ancient object tumbled through the air. Without looking, he caught it by the hilt, and tossed it into the air again. The heft was nice. Heavy enough to feel solid, but light enough that someone that had actually used a weapon like this could have flicked it with an unhindered speed. The balance was impeccable, each toss landing perfectly in his palm again. It was a shame that this blade was never intended for combat. It would have been an impressive tool for any assassin with a message to send. Instead, as the rumored history claimed, the artifact was a powerful conduit for dark “magics.”
He never really had believed in that sort of thing. Magic, the supernatural, the spiritual. None of that nonsense. Micah had opened a real door, there. It was like he had been living in an apartment his entire life, never knowing that the building around him had a thousand rooms just like his own; never mind the outside world. The realm of infinite possibility had a real, tangible meaning to him now. He had seen things in the past few months; things he had never believed were possible. Things he would have laughed in your face for even suggesting. One might say that his eyes had been truly opened.
As the blade flipped through the air again, his phone finally dinged, the message he had been waiting for. He lifted the phone, catching the blade again without looking. Thumb scrolling over the screen, he couldn’t help but laugh at the man’s text. “Maybe next time, you put your phone on silent. That’s textbook, man. Come on.” He chuckled, and tapped at the screen saying as much in text.
COMPOSED TEXT
TO: MICAH
Sorry about that.
Would have thought you
had your phone on silent.
Besides. Someone has
to make things
challenging for you,
elsewise you would
get bored.
Anyway. You think you
can meet me in the
Panda? Got something
for you to check out.
Tapping ‘send,’ he returned to tossing the knife. Really, though, he wondered if Micah would even want it. If he would even care. None of them really seemed like the holiday type, and if he was honest, he hadn’t spent enough time with the man to really know how he felt about gifts. To be frank, though, he didn’t rightly care how the man felt about receiving something simply because it was a certain day. He liked the ********, and he wanted to show him that he really did care about him whether he liked it or not.
He caught the blade, and looked at it carefully. He knit his brows, and shook his head. “Maybe I should make this thing presentable. Hardly fitting to just hand it over.” He glanced around the lobby and sighed. Looked like it was going to be the merchant they kept on hand. The man was holed up nicely in a neat little corner of the lobby, a pristine marble counter all about him to display his wares, a neat set of shelves behind him to display the more choice, expensive or rare items.
What he needed, however, was something less fantastic.
He leaned into the counter, tucking the blade into his belt as he looked the man in the eye, onyx orbs looking over the man’s face before he smiled. “Evening, sir. I was wondering if you might have a box? Something ornate… polished, with a velvet lining? I have an expensive blade I’m wanting to gift someone. I know you are a purveyor of fine arms, and thought you might have something of the sort for presentation. I’ll pay full price for one.”
The man made a face, like he had tasted something sour. His face scrunched in thought, he ran a hand along the polished marble feeling its cold surface before he gave a slow, deliberate nod. “I might have just the thing.” He knelt, vanishing beneath the counter. Suddenly standing alone at the stall, Osiris flicked his black stare from the shop’s shelves to glance idly around the lobby. It was strangely quiet. He didn’t see any of the family, which was highly unusual. It was, he supposed, due to the holidays, perhaps. None of them appeared to be the festive types, but maybe in spite of the bristly exteriors they were merry little motherfuckers. He couldn’t really be sure, to be honest.
In a flurry of movement, the shop keep bolted upright again, a grey blur of old, wrinkled flesh and limp salt-and-pepper hair as he carefully, but quickly, set a polished ebony box on the counter. The inlay was solid gold, the lid’s clasp made of the same precious metal. The box, without the gold work was supremely valuable. Ebony was a rare and beautiful wood. He flipped the clasp, slowly lifting the lid. Inside, black velvet lined the box with a soft, plush cushion. It was perfect. Perfect, of course, meant expensive. Eyes darker than the wood of the box lifted to the man’s sly, greedy grin.
He didn’t even have to ask.
“Nine hundred dollars, not a penny less.” Osiris couldn’t hide his smile. Nine hundred was pocket change. He would know. He had his hands in half the pockets in Harper Rock these nights. He reached for his billfold, and flipped open the solid silver clip, deft fingers flipping through the large bills, counting out an even ten, and sliding them across the counter. “Keep the extra. For really pulling through when I needed it.” He gave the old man a smile as the elder bowed his head in thanks. He took the box, and lifted the blade from his belt, settling the weapon gingerly atop the soft velvet cushion. It was perfect.
He closed the lid, fastening the clasp as he walked back to the reception counter. Honestly, he had all night. Rion had been asleep for days now, tired or sick or… something else. He was really confused on the details, but he couldn’t exactly ask her about it while she was unconscious, now could he?
He pushed his hand through midnight strands of hair, moving to take a seat on the counter while he waited. He doubted the man would be long, if he decided to show. He was typically quick about things.
If he didn’t show, well, he supposed he could leave the gift by the man’s room. He doubted that anyone here would be inclined to take something so atypical from in front of the man’s door. He was quite a fearsome force, and he didn’t even want to think about the kind of fury that would fall on someone’s head for trying to steal from him.
Even if he had half a mind to do just that himself.
For fun.
Suddenly, he found himself eyeing the door to where he and Vel kept a room in the hotel. It would be rather entertaining…
But, not tonight.
Maybe.
In Vengeance and Despair
#4080FF
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Micah
- Registered User
- Posts: 3867
- Joined: 22 May 2011, 00:12
- CrowNet Handle: FuckYourMorals
Re: A Slight Delay Due To Technical Complications {Micah}
Micah didn’t linger in the area surrounding the museum. Already the area was crawling with cops and he could hear sirens wailing in the distance signifying that more were on the way. Robbing a museum was a big deal, and once the item in his possession was discovered missing it was going to be a media circus. Clutching the spear close to his chest he stuck to the shadows and got the hell out of Dodge. He had no specific instructions on the delivery of the spear. The killer didn’t even know who wanted it but he couldn’t keep it on him. Vel kept a safe in the office of MRC for things just like this, until she could arrange for pick up of the items that they managed to get their hands on for the variety of clients they catered to. Micah headed for the shop, leaving the wailing sirens and flashing lights behind as he headed south to a much less populated area of the city.
The area surrounding MRC was silent as he let himself into the garage. As soon as the door closed behind him the lights came on and the security system activated. No one would be getting in the building and if they tried, he’d know about it. Very few people had access to the place and the only one to have a key to the entire building was Vel. Given the nature of items they stored there, the less prying eyes they had the better.
Moving across the floor he took the stairs to the upper floor and let himself in. The area was mostly barren save for the few things boxed up and secured waiting for pickup. Micah paid those no mind as he bypassed them on his way to the safe hidden in the wall behind the wedding portrait of himself and his wife. The picture was placed carefully on the floor while he punched in the code for the safe. The light turned green allowing him to pull the door open and place the spear inside the spacious compartment. Once it was secured, the killer relocked the safe and replaced the picture.
As he headed back down the stairs his phone buzzed. It still smarted that he’d made such a rookie mistake and having Osiris give him **** for it had him scowling. Yeah he absolutely knew better and he should have had it set to silent. But then again he hadn’t expected anyone to try and get in touch with him at such a later hour. He should know by now never to assume anything.
[text] Yeah, yeah. Go on. Give me **** I know I done fucked up. I assure you I won’t allow such a rookie mistake to happen again. I’ll be there in a few minutes.
The tome deposited him in the usual place as as soon as his feet hit the floor he was punching the button for elevator. The doors opened with a quiet swish and he stepped in, pushing the button for a lower floor. It was a short ride and soon the doors opened again, revealing the network of portals that would take him just about anywhere he wanted or needed to go in the city. The one he needed was further out but it was only seconds later that he was in the lobby of the hotel. Right away he spotted his childe sitting on one of the counters. “Evenin Osiris.”
The area surrounding MRC was silent as he let himself into the garage. As soon as the door closed behind him the lights came on and the security system activated. No one would be getting in the building and if they tried, he’d know about it. Very few people had access to the place and the only one to have a key to the entire building was Vel. Given the nature of items they stored there, the less prying eyes they had the better.
Moving across the floor he took the stairs to the upper floor and let himself in. The area was mostly barren save for the few things boxed up and secured waiting for pickup. Micah paid those no mind as he bypassed them on his way to the safe hidden in the wall behind the wedding portrait of himself and his wife. The picture was placed carefully on the floor while he punched in the code for the safe. The light turned green allowing him to pull the door open and place the spear inside the spacious compartment. Once it was secured, the killer relocked the safe and replaced the picture.
As he headed back down the stairs his phone buzzed. It still smarted that he’d made such a rookie mistake and having Osiris give him **** for it had him scowling. Yeah he absolutely knew better and he should have had it set to silent. But then again he hadn’t expected anyone to try and get in touch with him at such a later hour. He should know by now never to assume anything.
[text] Yeah, yeah. Go on. Give me **** I know I done fucked up. I assure you I won’t allow such a rookie mistake to happen again. I’ll be there in a few minutes.
The tome deposited him in the usual place as as soon as his feet hit the floor he was punching the button for elevator. The doors opened with a quiet swish and he stepped in, pushing the button for a lower floor. It was a short ride and soon the doors opened again, revealing the network of portals that would take him just about anywhere he wanted or needed to go in the city. The one he needed was further out but it was only seconds later that he was in the lobby of the hotel. Right away he spotted his childe sitting on one of the counters. “Evenin Osiris.”
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Osiris (DELETED 5735)
- Posts: 112
- Joined: 16 Oct 2014, 11:44
- CrowNet Handle: LordofSilence
Re: A Slight Delay Due To Technical Complications {Micah}
As he sat on the counter, leg kicking idly and tapping the heel of his boot against the wooden paneled front of the stand, his phone buzzed against the marble counter top at his side. He swiped it from the cool, smooth surface, and tapped at the screen, pulling up the message from his sire. He smirked at the message, before he gave a short laugh. He shook his head and tapped out an answer.
COMPOSED TEXT
TO: MICAH
Yeah I’m giving you
****. It’s expected for
me to **** this stuff up.
When you **** up, it’s
actually kind of a mind
****. Totally
unexpected. You really
can’t blame me for my
incredulity. But, I’m
here. I’ll be waiting.
He placed the phone face down on the marble counter and pulled the knife from his belt, flicking it open and pressing the black, carbon steel blade beneath his fingernails, cleaning them in silence as he waited, occasionally stealing glances at the doors around the abandoned hotel. Normal people would think this place some special kind of creepy. That, he supposed, was kind of the idea. There was no denying that the Andras crowd were a very special kind of people, darker than your average serial killer, more savage than your everyday Klingon. They were really his sort of people.
The hotel was all kinds of eerie, even if it hadn’t collapsed into the earth, it had the kind of structure that made you feel like you would be standing in the dark, no matter what time of day it might have been. Earth spilled through split walls and a gaping crack in the ceiling where a root as broad as a man’s chest jutted into the concrete and twisted like a monstrous arm of some sort of creature reaching after unseen prey, hunting the darkness beneath for what it wanted. The way the roots invaded the building in several places, alone, made the entire ambience of the room around him feel twisted, dark, dangerous. Doors the color of old blood lined the walls, yawning like open wounds in the lobby’s walls. Each door was either empty, or home to one of the family.
The very idea of stealing through any one of those doors to partake of the valuables that any of his “family” might have obtained was almost obscene. It was a guilty sort of pleasure, to just imagine it. He wouldn’t ever actually act on the ideas, but he experienced a great deal of personal satisfaction in knowing that he could. That was enough, and it didn’t harm any of the folk around him; the few living things he interacted with these nights that he didn’t want to abruptly and violently obliterate.
The way this sort of life made him feel, almost took him back to the nights before he had met Micah. Back to wanting to plot the demise of an entire species, but to what avail? That would destroy everything, everyone he had come to care about. That, he supposed, was out of the question. At least for the time being. He sighed, and flicked the cold steel of his blade, cleaning it of the dirt from his nails before he flicked it closed and tucked it into his belt again. He reached over, pulling the box closer to his side just as the sound of boots hitting the marbled floor of the empty lobby echoed off the cold walls.
His sire’s long Southern drawl lazily sprawled through the still darkness, each step he made sounding off the walls in a hollow ghost of the sound his boots made against the marble. Smirking, Osiris tucked the box closely against his side and laid his arm across the lid. “’Ello, old man. About time you made your way here.” He chuckled into the dark and tapped the box with his elbow, listening to his high London brogue echo in the black, lingering and mixing with the sound of Micah’s boots to make a rich, deep melody of natural sound. He smiled at the easy way that either man seemed to fit the other, even in such small, subtle things.
He lifted his hand as the man appeared in the shadowy stillness of the room and tipped his head, beckoning him closer. “Kidding aside, glad to see you made it in one piece. Thanks for coming.” He pat the box at his side and grinned. “I know it’s a day late, but I had some trouble pinpointing this little tidbit. Quite the elusive little piece. I’ve been all across town looking for this. You wouldn’t believe the number of decoys this asshole had made, just so it wouldn’t fall into someone else’s hands. Nasty bit of security, too. Big guns. Lots of traps. More brutish thugs than I could count. Real exercise. I won’t say it wasn’t fun.” He smiled, then, and pulled the box from the spot at his side.
In one fluid, graceful motion, he slid from the counter to the floor, his boots making almost no sound whatsoever against the hard marble surface. He was a living shadow, almost as insubstantial as smoke, like he could vanish in the blink of an eye. His movement was powerful, a study in elegance and purpose.
The black wood was polished to a shine, the lacquered finish glinting in the little bit of light coming from his phone. He hefted it in his hand, and held it out to the man. “For you. Wasn’t sure if, or when, rather, I was going to get it to you, so like I said, it’s a little late. Merry Christmas, if you celebrate that sort of thing. If not, well, shut up and take the box. It’s something I want to give you anyway.” He smiled, amused, and waiting for his sire to take the box from his grasp. It was surprisingly light, in spite of its solid structure, and was incredibly ornate, now that he could see it more closely in the light of the phone.
He doubted he could have made a better choice, if he had really been given one.
COMPOSED TEXT
TO: MICAH
Yeah I’m giving you
****. It’s expected for
me to **** this stuff up.
When you **** up, it’s
actually kind of a mind
****. Totally
unexpected. You really
can’t blame me for my
incredulity. But, I’m
here. I’ll be waiting.
He placed the phone face down on the marble counter and pulled the knife from his belt, flicking it open and pressing the black, carbon steel blade beneath his fingernails, cleaning them in silence as he waited, occasionally stealing glances at the doors around the abandoned hotel. Normal people would think this place some special kind of creepy. That, he supposed, was kind of the idea. There was no denying that the Andras crowd were a very special kind of people, darker than your average serial killer, more savage than your everyday Klingon. They were really his sort of people.
The hotel was all kinds of eerie, even if it hadn’t collapsed into the earth, it had the kind of structure that made you feel like you would be standing in the dark, no matter what time of day it might have been. Earth spilled through split walls and a gaping crack in the ceiling where a root as broad as a man’s chest jutted into the concrete and twisted like a monstrous arm of some sort of creature reaching after unseen prey, hunting the darkness beneath for what it wanted. The way the roots invaded the building in several places, alone, made the entire ambience of the room around him feel twisted, dark, dangerous. Doors the color of old blood lined the walls, yawning like open wounds in the lobby’s walls. Each door was either empty, or home to one of the family.
The very idea of stealing through any one of those doors to partake of the valuables that any of his “family” might have obtained was almost obscene. It was a guilty sort of pleasure, to just imagine it. He wouldn’t ever actually act on the ideas, but he experienced a great deal of personal satisfaction in knowing that he could. That was enough, and it didn’t harm any of the folk around him; the few living things he interacted with these nights that he didn’t want to abruptly and violently obliterate.
The way this sort of life made him feel, almost took him back to the nights before he had met Micah. Back to wanting to plot the demise of an entire species, but to what avail? That would destroy everything, everyone he had come to care about. That, he supposed, was out of the question. At least for the time being. He sighed, and flicked the cold steel of his blade, cleaning it of the dirt from his nails before he flicked it closed and tucked it into his belt again. He reached over, pulling the box closer to his side just as the sound of boots hitting the marbled floor of the empty lobby echoed off the cold walls.
His sire’s long Southern drawl lazily sprawled through the still darkness, each step he made sounding off the walls in a hollow ghost of the sound his boots made against the marble. Smirking, Osiris tucked the box closely against his side and laid his arm across the lid. “’Ello, old man. About time you made your way here.” He chuckled into the dark and tapped the box with his elbow, listening to his high London brogue echo in the black, lingering and mixing with the sound of Micah’s boots to make a rich, deep melody of natural sound. He smiled at the easy way that either man seemed to fit the other, even in such small, subtle things.
He lifted his hand as the man appeared in the shadowy stillness of the room and tipped his head, beckoning him closer. “Kidding aside, glad to see you made it in one piece. Thanks for coming.” He pat the box at his side and grinned. “I know it’s a day late, but I had some trouble pinpointing this little tidbit. Quite the elusive little piece. I’ve been all across town looking for this. You wouldn’t believe the number of decoys this asshole had made, just so it wouldn’t fall into someone else’s hands. Nasty bit of security, too. Big guns. Lots of traps. More brutish thugs than I could count. Real exercise. I won’t say it wasn’t fun.” He smiled, then, and pulled the box from the spot at his side.
In one fluid, graceful motion, he slid from the counter to the floor, his boots making almost no sound whatsoever against the hard marble surface. He was a living shadow, almost as insubstantial as smoke, like he could vanish in the blink of an eye. His movement was powerful, a study in elegance and purpose.
The black wood was polished to a shine, the lacquered finish glinting in the little bit of light coming from his phone. He hefted it in his hand, and held it out to the man. “For you. Wasn’t sure if, or when, rather, I was going to get it to you, so like I said, it’s a little late. Merry Christmas, if you celebrate that sort of thing. If not, well, shut up and take the box. It’s something I want to give you anyway.” He smiled, amused, and waiting for his sire to take the box from his grasp. It was surprisingly light, in spite of its solid structure, and was incredibly ornate, now that he could see it more closely in the light of the phone.
He doubted he could have made a better choice, if he had really been given one.
In Vengeance and Despair
#4080FF