Post by WARendfeld on Aug 8, 2012 8:55:16 GMT -6
Four Deaths Rising
“Alright, lights out!” The guard at the Azabe Island Penitentiary made one last sweep through the cells before lights were turned off for the night and the prisoners left to sleep. It usually wasn’t a problem; most of the inmates were sensible enough to be cooperative, and the few that weren’t were in solitary anyway. Still, it needed to be done, and as he looked in the last cell, he called, “Hey Nullen, you hear me? Lights…”
It only took a few seconds for the guard to realize that his prisoner’s lights were already out, and would probably never come on again. His first thought was that he’d deserved it, based on what he’d heard and seen of the man’s actions. His second thought was a dead prisoner, regardless of how he died, was more trouble than a live one, and he grabbed his radio. “Get paramedics down to my location, now!”
-
Lawrence Alexander was not the sort of man that socialized. He was not the sort to form attachments, nor the sort to spend time in the company of others. His reasons were his own, but if someone were to know him well enough, they would suspect it was purposeful detachment. After all, there was no sense in forming attachments to people if, at some point in the future, you may end up being hired to end their lives. And very few people failed to fit in that category.
He stepped into the saloon in Fortree City, and quietly made his way to his customary booth. Waiting for him were his associates. One of whom, a redheaded man with a manic look in his eyes, looked up and asked, “Well?”
“It’s done.” Alexander presented a newspaper and explained, “Our current contract is very much dead. We can now begin.”
A grin spread across the redheaded man’s face. Jason Allan Cord didn’t even need to look at the newspaper to know what had happened to their current employer. “So what about our second objective? The girl we were supposed to deliver to him?”
“I’ll leave that up to you.”
The grin increased. “Oh, thank you! It’s always good to know that after the sweet taste of someone’s last thoughts, I’ll be able to grab seconds.”
“Assuming we can kill her freak sister.” The third member of their little group idly watched as a coin slowly orbited his fingers, passing between two whilst slowly spinning. Nagawe Dion didn’t have the obvious madness of Cord; he was motivated by rage and anger at the world at large, treated as a freak due to his telekinetic talents. The fact that one of their targets was not only gifted with psychic abilities herself and was not only hailed by the people at large and held on a pedestal, but that she’d escaped them numerous times, infuriated him. “She’s escaped us three times now. And she’s gotten better at it every time.”
“This is the fourth time.” The last of their number, but just as dangerous as the rest, was only known as Frederick. Deep scars were clear all over his body, an eyepatch covering one eye. They didn’t bother him in the slightest. In fact, they’d all been self-inflicted; Frederick felt no pain, and as a result, he often reminded himself that he was alive by taking a knife and cutting into his flesh, just to see the blood flow. “Four is a number long associated with death. Besides, the first time we faced her, she had no help and no warning. This time will be little different.”
Alexander quietly agreed, but opted not to vocalize his agreement. After all, they’d been proven wrong before. Besides…
A flash, and he raised a finger, signaling his associates not to act.
“Hey, you fag clowns!” Another patron of the saloon, clearly inebriated, stumbled over to them. “Get the hell outta this place! We don’t want your kind here!” Alexander rose to his feet, and the patron continued, “Yeah, get the hell outta here you pansy-ass…!”
The man was permanently silenced as Alexander drew a sword and shoved it directly through his chest, impaling him against a wall. He withdrew the sword as the drunkard gasped for air, collapsing to the ground as blood flowed from his chest and back. Finally, he took a napkin and cleaned the blood from his sword before sheathing it and prompting his associates to follow.
Many of the other patrons had hardly noticed, more concerned with their drinks than anything else. The bartender, however, had seen it before and ignored it, chalking it up to natural selection in action. He just wished that the assassins would do their business elsewhere; he hated having to clean up the mess.
-
“Eight Hoenn League badges, an old rival defeated at long last, and the attention of trainers everywhere.” As her sibling finished mounting the frame that held her eight badges, Cass probed further, “So why haven’t you started off for Johto yet? You’re still planning to go there, right?”
“Of course, but I’ve got a few places I want to visit first.” Her frame mounted, Alex turned to her sister and continued, “You could come with if you like. It’s not like you’ve got anything else going on.”
“No, but I figure I’ve got plenty to occupy myself around here.” Cass grinned and added, “Still, you could always twist my arm or something.” The two exited Alex’s bedroom and made their way through their spacious home. “So where all are you planning on going before you head abroad again? It’s not like there’s something locally that demands your attention.”
“Canterville; there’s a seamstress there who volunteered to make me a new outfit and update my wardrobe a little, and I figure I’ve given her more than enough time to finish her designs. Besides, there’s a few trainers there who wanted to test their mettle against me the last time I passed through, and I want to give them a second chance.”
A curious expression crossed Cass’ face. “That’s the place where you ran into those two idiots again, right? The thieves who tried to steal our Pokémon?”
“Yeah, but I don’t see that repeating. Now other idiots coming by to make life miserable, that’s another matter.” The two reached the kitchen as Alex finally asked, “By the way, has anyone brought in today’s paper yet?”
“Of course, I’ve got it here on the table.” She retrieved the named article and began examining it. “I’m not expecting anything interesting though. I mean, you know what newspapers are like; lots of attention on stuff with little importance, politics, annoying human interest stuff, all that…” She paused as she caught sight of a minor headline. “Oh. Alex, you remember Edward?”
“A little hard to forget someone who leads a gang in trying to rape you, sis. Why?”
Cass turned the paper so that her sibling could see what she was talking about. “He was found dead in prison.” As her sister approached and looked the article over, she explained, “No physical harm to the body, and he doesn’t strike me as the sort to commit suicide.”
“Me neither.” An ill feeling formed in Alex’s chest as she considered the article’s implications. “Cass, this might just be simple paranoia talking, but I don’t think this is the last we’ll hear of this.”
“Is it ever?”
TBC!
“Alright, lights out!” The guard at the Azabe Island Penitentiary made one last sweep through the cells before lights were turned off for the night and the prisoners left to sleep. It usually wasn’t a problem; most of the inmates were sensible enough to be cooperative, and the few that weren’t were in solitary anyway. Still, it needed to be done, and as he looked in the last cell, he called, “Hey Nullen, you hear me? Lights…”
It only took a few seconds for the guard to realize that his prisoner’s lights were already out, and would probably never come on again. His first thought was that he’d deserved it, based on what he’d heard and seen of the man’s actions. His second thought was a dead prisoner, regardless of how he died, was more trouble than a live one, and he grabbed his radio. “Get paramedics down to my location, now!”
-
Lawrence Alexander was not the sort of man that socialized. He was not the sort to form attachments, nor the sort to spend time in the company of others. His reasons were his own, but if someone were to know him well enough, they would suspect it was purposeful detachment. After all, there was no sense in forming attachments to people if, at some point in the future, you may end up being hired to end their lives. And very few people failed to fit in that category.
He stepped into the saloon in Fortree City, and quietly made his way to his customary booth. Waiting for him were his associates. One of whom, a redheaded man with a manic look in his eyes, looked up and asked, “Well?”
“It’s done.” Alexander presented a newspaper and explained, “Our current contract is very much dead. We can now begin.”
A grin spread across the redheaded man’s face. Jason Allan Cord didn’t even need to look at the newspaper to know what had happened to their current employer. “So what about our second objective? The girl we were supposed to deliver to him?”
“I’ll leave that up to you.”
The grin increased. “Oh, thank you! It’s always good to know that after the sweet taste of someone’s last thoughts, I’ll be able to grab seconds.”
“Assuming we can kill her freak sister.” The third member of their little group idly watched as a coin slowly orbited his fingers, passing between two whilst slowly spinning. Nagawe Dion didn’t have the obvious madness of Cord; he was motivated by rage and anger at the world at large, treated as a freak due to his telekinetic talents. The fact that one of their targets was not only gifted with psychic abilities herself and was not only hailed by the people at large and held on a pedestal, but that she’d escaped them numerous times, infuriated him. “She’s escaped us three times now. And she’s gotten better at it every time.”
“This is the fourth time.” The last of their number, but just as dangerous as the rest, was only known as Frederick. Deep scars were clear all over his body, an eyepatch covering one eye. They didn’t bother him in the slightest. In fact, they’d all been self-inflicted; Frederick felt no pain, and as a result, he often reminded himself that he was alive by taking a knife and cutting into his flesh, just to see the blood flow. “Four is a number long associated with death. Besides, the first time we faced her, she had no help and no warning. This time will be little different.”
Alexander quietly agreed, but opted not to vocalize his agreement. After all, they’d been proven wrong before. Besides…
A flash, and he raised a finger, signaling his associates not to act.
“Hey, you fag clowns!” Another patron of the saloon, clearly inebriated, stumbled over to them. “Get the hell outta this place! We don’t want your kind here!” Alexander rose to his feet, and the patron continued, “Yeah, get the hell outta here you pansy-ass…!”
The man was permanently silenced as Alexander drew a sword and shoved it directly through his chest, impaling him against a wall. He withdrew the sword as the drunkard gasped for air, collapsing to the ground as blood flowed from his chest and back. Finally, he took a napkin and cleaned the blood from his sword before sheathing it and prompting his associates to follow.
Many of the other patrons had hardly noticed, more concerned with their drinks than anything else. The bartender, however, had seen it before and ignored it, chalking it up to natural selection in action. He just wished that the assassins would do their business elsewhere; he hated having to clean up the mess.
-
“Eight Hoenn League badges, an old rival defeated at long last, and the attention of trainers everywhere.” As her sibling finished mounting the frame that held her eight badges, Cass probed further, “So why haven’t you started off for Johto yet? You’re still planning to go there, right?”
“Of course, but I’ve got a few places I want to visit first.” Her frame mounted, Alex turned to her sister and continued, “You could come with if you like. It’s not like you’ve got anything else going on.”
“No, but I figure I’ve got plenty to occupy myself around here.” Cass grinned and added, “Still, you could always twist my arm or something.” The two exited Alex’s bedroom and made their way through their spacious home. “So where all are you planning on going before you head abroad again? It’s not like there’s something locally that demands your attention.”
“Canterville; there’s a seamstress there who volunteered to make me a new outfit and update my wardrobe a little, and I figure I’ve given her more than enough time to finish her designs. Besides, there’s a few trainers there who wanted to test their mettle against me the last time I passed through, and I want to give them a second chance.”
A curious expression crossed Cass’ face. “That’s the place where you ran into those two idiots again, right? The thieves who tried to steal our Pokémon?”
“Yeah, but I don’t see that repeating. Now other idiots coming by to make life miserable, that’s another matter.” The two reached the kitchen as Alex finally asked, “By the way, has anyone brought in today’s paper yet?”
“Of course, I’ve got it here on the table.” She retrieved the named article and began examining it. “I’m not expecting anything interesting though. I mean, you know what newspapers are like; lots of attention on stuff with little importance, politics, annoying human interest stuff, all that…” She paused as she caught sight of a minor headline. “Oh. Alex, you remember Edward?”
“A little hard to forget someone who leads a gang in trying to rape you, sis. Why?”
Cass turned the paper so that her sibling could see what she was talking about. “He was found dead in prison.” As her sister approached and looked the article over, she explained, “No physical harm to the body, and he doesn’t strike me as the sort to commit suicide.”
“Me neither.” An ill feeling formed in Alex’s chest as she considered the article’s implications. “Cass, this might just be simple paranoia talking, but I don’t think this is the last we’ll hear of this.”
“Is it ever?”
TBC!