amenities

Cain would not turn for Fletcher. The voice, the scent, the auditory pattern of his footsteps all made his familiarity within the warehouse known. To him, the puppet master would remain doubled over the motionless figure beneath him. When his approach was made and his inference noted, the man would straighten and turn to him and he would see how wrong he had been.

First, perhaps he would notice that none of the sparkly looking blue goo had landed on Cain’s grinning person. Second, perhaps he would notice as the man moved away from the desk with his hands folded that none of this blue grime had, in fact, touched anything at all since it burst from the doughy pouch that had emerged in the center of his painted circle.

“Oh, quite the contrary, Mr. Fletcher!” A chipper voice chirped happily forth. When Cain got that taste of success, he was dangerous. Venom dripped gleefully from his beaming visage. “You see, there’s something about the living nervous system that sets this bluish substance haywire when you connect its lines. The funny thing is, after it explodes it--”

Then Vassili had drawn close and made the announcement of his arrival, and sharp eyes swiveled to meet those of the Mr. Zyats. It seemed that, just as his hands moved from the figure he’d been playing with, the whole desk was drawn from the center of the room by the steel wire attaching it to the corner of the building’s ceiling far across the establishment. The comfy looking office chair that remained was promptly and silently rolled toward Fletcher, and a gesture of the hand offered him the seat. Cain’s attention, however, found a different perch.

“Greetings, Vassili! Couldn’t have picked a better night to get a taste of what we’re going to be doing. Thank you for coming. Are you warmed up?”

Here Cain hopped a couple times, bouncing off the cement floor on the balls of his feet. His loosened muscles gave way to gravity’s pull, if only minutely every time his feet came back down, and testament was given of his physical conditioning. He wore a black beater and crimson shorts that allowed maximum flexion of the lower body. Aside from that, a black headband held back the majority of his flowing red hair.

There was a playful mien with which he approached the situation. The air about it would exude confidence, perhaps cockiness.

“You know, hand-to-hand. If you want to throw in a couple tiny powered surprises every now and then, go for it. Of course don’t try to lop my head off, because then I’ll kill you.” That was where a grin broke the serious texture that had masked his humor for the first moment. Then he turned his head to the first entrant in his warehouse.

“You ready, Fletch?”

After Strauss responded to him, Artist smiled wide, exuding a mellow smile that could soften the stiffest of people. He looked like a laid back pothead, worried only about the finer things in life, like partying in a pillow costume and mingling with all sorts of people. "That's what I'm talkin' about," he said, "But you need to find yourself a [color=red]honey[/color]," he added, as Kitten sat down next to him. As she did, he watched her every movement. Watched how her clothes hung off her curves, watched how her eyes glanced in random directions, but the one thing that stood out to him was her inability to integrate. She hadn't told him she was having problems getting into the party, but he could see it all on her. She sat down without a word to say, like she was just along for the ride. Even Strauss, who he felt was acting pretty awkward at first, had loosened up. He noticed that [i]especially[/i] when he didn't hesitate to grab some pills from the corrupt cop that had joined them, who Artist turned to look at next.

It wasn't too much of a surprise to see two people wearing cop costumes in the same party, and while he thought Echo had a plethora of attractive curves to show off, he wasn't planning on kissing two law enforcement officers on the same night. "I think you need some help with that, officer," he said, reaching out to take one of the pills. After he did, however, he did something that was likely unexpected from everyone else's point of view. Instead of throwing it into the confines of his mouth, he lowered his hand and placed it atop one of Kitten's thighs moments before he offered a gentle caress, and a pat, "Loosen up, honey. This is a party," he said. It was likely she wouldn't be the only one to hear it, "Strauss, see to it that she forgets [i]all[/i] about [i]any[/i] kind of biz that's ever happened anywhere tonight."

In the same motion that he had reached for Kitten's pill, he pushed forth, and soon ended up sitting somewhere else on the couch. Right next to Monday, and he aligned his eyes with her. If she didn't turn to look at him or anything at all, she'd find, once her peripheral vision allowed her, that there was, indeed, someone beside her staring. He was taking in every detail of her face, smiling the same mellow smile, looking absolutely ridiculous in the pillow costume. This was the hostess, and the girl he had been on two missions with prior. She was odd, certainly, in many ways. She seemed anti social to an extent, but most importantly, she always managed to look lost in her own little world. She wandered the various different expanses of her numerous thoughts first and second, she took note of what was going on in real life. He was taking all the time he needed with her.

So, he continued staring, thinking about her, wondering just what might make her seem human. Maybe it was because he was intoxicated or maybe it was because Monday was just that complex, but it took him a while to finally have something. He leaned in towards her, slowly, and made it an absolute certainty that nobody other than her would hear what he had to say. "You can call me tuesday," he uttered, paused for a long couple of moments, as if he did it to make the next few words more impactful. "Because by the time this party's over, I'ma be on top of you."

Came out perfectly, just the way he wanted it to, and that was it. Just how would Monday react to such an audacious display of utter, unadulterated perversion? She had to be human. She had to be.

Cain was all friendly smiles for the gathering of his associates. Of course, he would give Monday the respect she had earned for throwing such a magnificent soirée. There was time for business, and there was time to enjoy one’s self. The man attached to his lover by strings, quite literally, had found a way to have fun doing business as well, but this was time for different joy. Joy in excess, perhaps to feel as though he fit in. To bask in the light of not only respect, but maybe in the comfort of being [i]liked[/i], not only feared for his rank.

When he found the voice of Artist bubbling from across the room, his gaze would be met with the ecstatic face of his comrade, along with that of Strauss. Tonight, nobody was going to bother him. He would do his best to be kind to these partygoers.

He would reach the sitting area with Chloe at the same time another woman approached with a bag of goodies. Cain, who would arrive directly beside the girl in total silence, of course being towed by the woman at the other end of his strings, dipped a hand quickly and deftly into the bag. A single pill, clearly a quad-stack, white with a golden star on it, slipped through his lips and beneath his tongue where he would allow it to dissolve for best effect. Then he would look upon the supplier, and his eyes would widen and his hands would slap to his cheeks.

“Oh shit, we got [COLOR="red"]Jakes[/COLOR]!” His short, single syllable laugh would signify his attempt at humor before following the strings like a good puppet.

Maybe Chloe wouldn’t even see it, but it [i]had[/i] said in the advertisement that this party was for relaxation.

The rest of the passing moments went by presenting him as an observer. He would sit beside Chloe, across from Strauss, smiling directly at the good doctor. This man had been a topic of interest from their first meeting, and the puppet master truly did believe they had gotten off on the wrong foot. He would notice the awkward tone with which Chloe addressed their fellow partiers. Slipping an arm up over the back of the loveseat behind her shoulders, he leaned close so that he could whisper in her ear. The same smile he first donned would not falter.

“Lighten up, dear. These are all nice people.” As he withdrew from her, it was with a reassuring smile before he tuned in on the goings on.

Artist was spitting some mad game, and it brought a quite chuckle from the puppeteer. When Monday moved from between them, should his gaze have wandered to the voluptuous form lingering for a short moment before moving to the bar, it would find itself upon a laughing Cain when she went. It was then that Artist would become aware that Cain still had his senses about him.

“Why don’t you go [COLOR="red"]floss[/COLOR] [i]that[/i], [COLOR="red"]homey[/COLOR].” His grin broke into a toothy smile.

His mentality pushed the ecstasy through his immune system, his every nerve ending absorbing it voluntarily.

Blue pools narrowed in response to the puppet’s answer, and that alone would merit his silence. When Casualties spoke, perhaps whatever centralized thought focused its sentience would catch the contortionist shuddering beneath its robe. It was only a single life, but the torture of one human being for the greater good of many was something to be enjoyed, not considered an obligation. By the time this archaic figure had finished its small speech, the robed man would practically writhe with the suffocating weight of the notion that had just dawned upon him.

Small gasps of breath emanated from the darkness beneath the robe. And Cain would abandon its persona at that moment. A hand of unspoken power and demonstration reached through the cloak’s mouth, through the man to his very core. Grabbing a million handfuls of his essence in the single motion of tightening five digits around it, the arm buried shoulder deep within the medium would procure forth his every power and thought. His mind, body, and spirit would stretch from his mouth in its entirety, warping as an invisible force drew it from him upward at a 45 degree angle. Then, at a certain point when it seemed only a thread of this man attached what came from him to himself, a devilish grin would paint the face of his demise.
--
Cain sat in his office chair, one leg folded over the other. His right arm, elbow propped on the armrest, rested over his lap carelessly. His left arm, crooked against its own respective perch, positioned itself vertically beside him. His forefinger and thumb were pushed together before him, pulling whatever unseen object they clenched in intricate patterns before him.

--

Screams that sounded totally foreign to human capability tore from the human man who stood there. It had clearly been a man that stood there, the hand of a man that had extended forth and defied the many lost souls of Xynzicht’s victims, but the shrieks that came from him echoed Muhir’s every crevice in bathing reverberations like a siren gone banshee. Its outer body would twist then, instead of drawing straight from him. Like whatever held it was twisting it around pegs that weren’t actually there, making it do loops around itself and make a knot.

--

The puppeteer’s right hand rose beside his left, pinching another invisible line between its two fingers. Then they would pull from one another for a moment, visible strain causing his fingertips to whiten just slightly.

--

Then it would be as if a cannonball hit the man in the throat, his scream quelled by the force of his very existence snapping back at him like a rubber band. When the multicolored wisps of his life force shot back through him, it would seem to Casualties that it moved through him, and then proceeded to pull him with it. Like the blackness beneath his hood was a monster, eating everything at its fringes like a black hole.

When the man’s outline began to absorb itself, though, there was another standing where he once had. This man was not robed. He wore white, tailored dress pants with equally white shoes. As the twisting visage of the lost soul he had doomed to purgatory and, perhaps if Casualties could rummage through the wreckage of a man’s every faction of existence smeared together into one conglomerate, he could pick it from the everlasting chaos he would forever endure.

If not, though, Casualties would witness the emerging, white clad Cain Rose standing before it. A golden ring ornamented the finger he had once favored for a nail having been driven through it. Then the tips of wisps of red hair would expose themselves, then the disheveled streams would follow, and eventually the definition of a chin and jawline would come. The hood of the man that once stood there swallowed itself, and the amaranth grin of the puppet master spilled forth with his completion.

Swathed in smoky wisps, one wrist parting half of his blazer to the side with its hand resting in the cradle of his pocket, Cain would present an even stronger beacon of defensive prowess against this large horned silhouette. The rain would blot him unhindered, but it seemed to be the cause of the aura seeping from his shoulders.

There was an underlying scent, though; that of the founder. The Architect. Like it enticed animalistic instinct, it would tease the creature. Rose’s eyes would not pry, but they would not waver upon the opal slats in the black before him. Cold and lifeless as that which stared back at him, his gaze somehow eluded to an understanding of what mammoth swell of emotion and energy he stood before. At the same time, though, it was wholly cleansed of emotion. Fear, excitement, or otherwise, were all naught in the presence of those two.

The tumultuous clash of waves in the sea of lost souls was evident to him as he lulled on, observing the every move and shift in the current of thick air that surrounded them both. His lips parted and moved, speaking in a voice that was all at once sharp, clear, and concise; soft and casual. This too expressed his intimate connection with the situation.

“I have drawn nearer what you seek than you know. The war you wage could very well be your end..” There was something that tinged his tone at the closing chide of his final syllables. Interest? “Will you pursue it to your second grave?”

This was an unstable element, and would be handled just accordingly. Adept hands, quick feet, ears that constantly drank of their every stimulation, and eyes that had corroded themselves open with the care of experience. Not to mention a nose wrought with the stench of the red substance that swirled and floated with unnatural fervor within the puddles at their feet.

The bleached white bricks of the warehouse had not been simply bleached white. Those floors that glanced skyward and dared defy the sun with their brilliance spoke of more than simply a soaped down old factory floor. Seconds before the transformation of their surroundings took place, the machinations would flash once. Coruscating golden circuitry exposed itself upon every surface. Weaving its way up the desk and engulfing it with their presence. What danced to life before their eyes was not an illusion, it had become real. What each and every member in that room saw at that time would be an iris into a world that they could quite literally dream up. The scenery puppet whose shoulder Cain clung to was a medium by which Dawn's imagination could be brought not solely into an illusory hallucination, but looking and feeling, smelling and literally [b]being.[/b]

Monday would be left without a desk or a book for studying. Due to the fact that what they stood within was not an illusion, it was the environment that surrounded them, she would even be left without a comfy chair to sit in. Cain stood beside her and smiled, though, for what burst to life before the group of staff members amazed him just as thoroughly. What captured him every time was that it wasn't just the effects or flashy light techniques. It became real inside that enclosed warehouse.

When Dawn looked to him, he saw she had discovered a world she had only ever had the power to dream of in that moment, and he turned to behold her dream. And he was humbled by the true power of the human mind. Only so much of it could have been his creation, and on the blank canvas before him was painted out the rest of the human mind in its every perfect contour.

Then, in the very middle of what bewildered wonderment they could all possibly have shrouded their minds with, Cain's wrist would slip from the shoulder of his steed and, when his hand slapped briefly against his side to rest there, the gathering would suddenly be standing in the warehouse in the same positions they'd left in.

He would wait a moment before placing his hand on Dawn's shoulder, looking to her and nodding.

"Thank you."

Then his soft gaze would shift upward to meet those others who had come to serve as staff members of the Ojin.

"You all understand what these things are capable of, yes?" After allowing a short pause for the inevitable concurring murmur issued forth from those before him, he continued.

"These are the gateways to your imagination that will separate you from anyone else who ever walks through those doors." There, his line of sight clearly addressed the large steel plates that signified entry and exit.

Then Cain stepped away from the single puppet, his hand slipped from Dawn's shoulder, and he moved to accompany the single puppet of them all that bore unique characteristics. He moved his arm out in an arch to present them all with their tools.

"Each of you are hereby issued one [b]Scenery Puppet.[/b] These will be the projectors through which you will give our combatants and, willing the fact that you participate in your own bouts, one another a stage to perform on."

[b][u]End Scene[/b][/u]

The bleached white bricks of the warehouse had not been simply bleached white. Those floors that glanced skyward and dared defy the sun with their brilliance spoke of more than simply a soaped down old factory floor. Seconds before the transformation of their surroundings took place, the machinations would flash once. Coruscating golden circuitry exposed itself upon every surface. Weaving its way up the desk and engulfing it with their presence. What danced to life before their eyes was not an illusion, it had become real. What each and every member in that room saw at that time would be an iris into a world that they could quite literally dream up. The scenery puppet whose shoulder Cain clung to was a medium by which Dawn's imagination could be brought not solely into an illusory hallucination, but looking and feeling, smelling and literally [b]being.[/b]

Monday would be left without a desk or a book for studying. Due to the fact that what they stood within was not an illusion, it was the environment that surrounded them, she would even be left without a comfy chair to sit in. Cain stood beside her and smiled, though, for what burst to life before the group of staff members amazed him just as thoroughly. What captured him every time was that it wasn't just the effects or flashy light techniques. It became real inside that enclosed warehouse.

When Dawn looked to him, he saw she had discovered a world she had only ever had the power to dream of in that moment, and he turned to behold her dream. And he was humbled by the true power of the human mind. Only so much of it could have been his creation, and on the blank canvas before him was painted out the rest of the human mind in its every perfect contour.

Then, in the very middle of what bewildered wonderment they could all possibly have shrouded their minds with, Cain's wrist would slip from the shoulder of his steed and, when his hand slapped briefly against his side to rest there, the gathering would suddenly be standing in the warehouse in the same positions they'd left in.

He would wait a moment before placing his hand on Dawn's shoulder, looking to her and nodding.

"Thank you."

Then his soft gaze would shift upward to meet those others who had come to serve as staff members of the Ojin.

"You all understand what these things are capable of, yes?" After allowing a short pause for the inevitable concurring murmur issued forth from those before him, he continued.

"These are the gateways to your imagination that will separate you from anyone else who ever walks through those doors." There, his line of sight clearly addressed the large steel plates that signified entry and exit.

Then Cain stepped away from the single puppet, his hand slipped from Dawn's shoulder, and he moved to accompany the single puppet of them all that bore unique characteristics. He moved his arm out in an arch to present them all with their tools.

"Each of you are hereby issued one [b]Scenery Puppet.[/b] These will be the projectors through which you will give our combatants and, willing the fact that you participate in your own bouts, one another a stage to perform on."

[b][u]End Scene[/b][/u]

Silence had engulfed the establishment. Though the bustling city had pulsed with its constant activity, crawling with the wide-eyed masses who poured through its every pathway each and every day. As if the whole of Tia had breathed to hush itself if only for a moment before the content of its lungs and stomach came spewing from the ground, the night club burst into a fiery conglomerate of mission fulfillment and stinging loss. This alerted the attention of more than just the patrons of the city, but also of those who saw fit to enforce its well-being and that of those who inhabited its catacombs. Men in chairs before surveillance and communications devices buzzed like bees, tapping at the numerous keys before them like madmen. Through the mixed static of their confusing efforts to diffuse the matter, a small but defiant voice crackled out to quell their incessant cries for a solution.

[i]"Sierra Tango, moving in, out."[/i] Traditionally, the response was "over," implying that the respondee was accepting feedback. "Out," however, implied a cut in the communications. Multiple men swiveled in their positions to look in confusion at one another. A profound silence fell over the main reconnaissance room for just a second before a large screen in the center of one of the walls popped and fizzled to life.

There was a lot of darkness, and there were people yelling far away, but the immediate area that the streaming video brought to life was quiet. First there was a building that the viewing screen seemed to be approaching. The face of that building bore a broken window and, as the figure controlling the com and video headset grew nearer, crunching glass and breaking twigs combined to give them reassurance that they would hear their member doing his job. As the video advanced through the window, a thoroughly mutilated body lay in the light it cast into the room.

Michael could tell that nobody else was in the room, and so stepped a foot wearing combat boots on its sill, moving over it and crouching before the woman. He lifted her arm, examining the wounds that marred it along with the rest of her body. It was clear that she had been present for the concussive force of an explosion. While it was also clear that this had all ended with her shooting herself, there was no doubt that her brutal decomposition was the doing of another being. From the size and sloppy manner of each painfully made gash in her person, combined with the residue of being that outlined each injury, the splinter cell could deduce that one of the titan family had done this.

He touched his finger at the edges of tattered skin all around her body, examining her corpse to the hair. He could smell what had done this on her. Outside there had been nothing, and when he continued on to the club he would find nothing. On this girl, though, a stench so strong it could not be avoided emanated outward.

Then he moved from the room without emotion. The dead that lay there would be left by the cold soul who had seen so many before it.

When he moved on to the rubble that remained of the place, he was unmoved. There was one female whose head he would brush with his fingertips, passing over her temple and hovering there for a moment. He knew then who it was he would be searching for. He knew then that it was his scent on the dead woman in the building. This man had been the owner of this place.

The men in their comfy spots all watched the screen in awe as the disaster passed before their eyes. Then they would see hands coming toward the camera, and its view would lift a foot or two in the air. Then it would swivel and a boyish figure would be staring into the eyes of each and every one of them with one beautifully blue, innocent eye and one gem that had replaced its proper counterpart from the depths of Hell.

[i]”I’ve got this.”[/i] Then a brisk salute from the boy was followed by a smile, and the screen went black.

[FONT="Georgia"]Dawn quietly observed the actions of Cain, she took in the males words and nodded occasionally to show that she was paying attention. Her violet hues shifted from left to right, wondering around the room noticing the bland shade of white that the walls were painted.

[B]“This,” holding the metal piece a little higher, “Is a key that will be given all of you.”[/B]

Dawn eyed Cain as he grazed his hands over the featureless body that hovered from the ceiling, the man seemed very fascinated with body, staring at it as though it were a piece of art or a treasure of some sorts.

The female licked her lips while continuing to study Cain, fascinated she lifted a brow and began to ponder on what the true meaning behind the body was, what did it signify?

[B]"Dawn"[/B] She moved forward, before the man could speak Dawn had already made her way to stand next to him, her hips swayed with beauty and grace as the stoic young lady moved running her fingers down her body. A smile came across the young woman's face as she stood next to the man, taking control she would grip the metal key within her hands, studying it and staring with cation.

Inhaling deeply, Dawn rotated the key as the skull upon the back of her hand glowing it's bright purple hue.

Seconds after the key was rotated clockwise the room itself began to manifest, the walls disappeared as well as everything literally around as the people stood before Dawn and Cain. From everyone's point of view, it looked as though they were floating within the sky, massive amounts of water could be seen poring from large mountains, the hue resembled a salmon hue. A blue moon could be seen located within the center of the sky, a large black aura surrounded the blue moon.

Dawn's mouth opened in amazement, her eyes became glossy as she stared towards the moon and the newly found environment. All five members within the room would begin to lower now, a large floating piece of land located within the center of the falling water seemed to be where they were headed. Dawn stared down as she gracefully levitated and lowered onto the piece of land, along with her 'companions' of course. The scent of vanilla filled the air as they lowered down and set foot onto the large piece of land.

Dawn inhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a split moment; enjoying the magnificent scent..it was so pure and unlike any scent of Vanilla that she had ever smelled.

Her glossy pink lips quivered as she looked around, on the portion of the island that the five warriors were located it seemed to be covered in shrubs and beautiful flowers that had never been seen upon Valucre, beautiful shades of purple, pink, orange, crimson, black and even yellow. Some flowers had two shades mixed within them.

It was awesome.

It was surreal.

Dawn looked towards Cain, staring in awe at the man, she was speechless. Quietly waiting for the man to respond, she turned her attention back to the large water covered mountains, Dawn wasn't one for showing emotions..but she nearly lost it and broke down from the beautiful environment.[/FONT]

[spoiler][IMG]http://i319.photobucket.com/albums/mm452/Aradias_heart/Final%20Fantasy/Final%20Fantasy%20X/Farplane.jpg?t=1242064139[/IMG][/spoiler]

Before all of this happened—the whole ‘head of a crime syndicate’ business—He had been normal. He could see it through the blurred tears as if it unfurled before him. His childhood, his training, his abandonment, and his rise all haunted him for every breath he drew. For the young man he lost to the monster he had become, he thought as he walked.

What had wrought Cain Rose with such grief as he walked was none other than the tug of a string attached to his heart. Never in an eternity would the puppeteer dream or admit that, for once, he acted by the tightening of thread. A flashback came to him then.

[i]“When you put the string through the bottom of both cups, you can say stuff to each other!”
“Nuh uh..”
“Yeah huh!”
Cain pushed the cup to his ear, but when the blurry girl put her mouth to the cup and whispered something, his blank expression lingered for a moment before breaking into frustration.
“See, I knew it wouldn’t work.” He crossed his arms over his chest with the cup in his right hand and stuck his tongue out. The smeared silhouette put the cup to her ear just then.
“No! No! I can hear your heartbeat!”
The young boy stared, dumbfounded by the girl.
“N-No? Show me!” She placed the cup on the left side of her chest and he mashed the lip of his cup against the side of his head, listening intently.
[b]Dum dum.. dum dum.. dum dum..[/b]
Just then, the cup was yanked violently from his ear and the girl laughed.
“See? Told ya so!” All the puppeteer could respond with was a grin.[/i]

For so long, he had felt the cold sting of betrayal. He had walked into the chambers of his cofounder with the breathless body of a woman he had never found the comfort in meeting; in knowing. He had met her as a subordinate, but she was the one who had him smitten at a glance. For so long, he had dreamt of a day where he could feel her breath—even hear it. Where he could sense the beat of her heart, smell the scent of her hair, or feel that soft brush of her fingers as they slipped through his. After all of the trouble he had gone through to fetch her, the pang of her death, and the acquiring of yet another body just for her reincarnation. And after that, not a word had been spoken of her fate.

For so long, he had carried on with the monotony of loneliness. There was no itch to feel one with another, because there was no provocation. He had not forgotten about her, and it pained him at a deeper level than he could express. After all, he had no more than business associates technically. His heart had grown numb, and it drew his attention for a moment. He listened hard on the day that it skipped a beat, because suddenly the pitch had changed. It wasn't fuzzy or anything. In fact, it was familiar. For some reason, it was the most comforting thing he remembered.

[b]Dum dum.. dum dum.. dum dum..[/b]

Then, as Cain stood at the threshold of his latest, possibly most important mission with the corporation thus far, he felt it. First it was like a fishing lure drawing taught when a fish tests the bait. Then there was another nibble. Then a bite and the strongest pull he had ever felt in his life.

[i]”See? Told ya so!”[/i]

And Cain saw her smiling face. For the first time since he’d left it lifeless, eyes left open by an unceremonious examination. When he saw them then, there was no light behind them, no soul to pour its countenance into their brilliance. This face was not dead though, no, it was full of life. The cheeks that possessed color, the eyes that shone with coruscating light, the smile that had compelled him through the worst of times before even having met this enchanting woman all came slamming into him at supersonic speed, knocking his entire life spiralling off its axis all because of a [i]feeling?[/i]

So he walked. He did not know what he was following or where it was taking him. Every day, though, he followed it from sunrise to sunset. Sometimes it moved, and so he would change course. Eventually the tug grew stronger, and he sped up. He began using all means necessary to catch the person at the other end of the string attached to his heart and soul. His puppets, his wits, his body and mind all grew tired here, though, and so he fell to his scraped knees in the snow. Looking over his shoulder at the footprints would retrace him back through the forest that surrounded him, then the town of Ashville, then around the world and back what felt like a thousand times, he drew one last wretching, uncontrolled breath before falling to his hands.

He just remembered the cold, thinking how it would be his demise. How funny it was that some great sorcerer or warrior would not be his death, but a snowstorm that would never even find its way to the populace. That, and how close to her he had felt before all hope seemed lost.She had been close for hours, but where was close? He had searched the town nearby, sent puppet scouts to scavenge the entire area, even joined them once he had finished with the central city. [i]Nothing.[/i] For all the experience and professionalism he had prided himself with all his life, the best he could give was [i]nothing[/i] in comparison to this behemoth emotion that had overwhelmed him in the first place.

Not for the possibility of losing part of his organization, not for his incapability, not for his pain, but for the fact that he could not see or or touch what he felt was so close, Cain Rose broke down and wept.

Before all of this happened—the whole ‘head of a crime syndicate’ business—He had been normal. He could see it through the blurred tears as if it unfurled before him. His childhood, his training, his abandonment, and his rise all haunted him for every breath he drew. For the young man he lost to the monster he had become, he thought as he walked.

What had wrought Cain Rose with such grief as he walked was none other than the tug of a string attached to his heart. Never in an eternity would the puppeteer dream or admit that, for once, he acted by the tightening of thread. A flashback came to him then.

[i]“When you put the string through the bottom of both cups, you can say stuff to each other!”
“Nuh uh..”
“Yeah huh!”
Cain pushed the cup to his ear, but when the blurry girl put her mouth to the cup and whispered something, his blank expression lingered for a moment before breaking into frustration.
“See, I knew it wouldn’t work.” He crossed his arms over his chest with the cup in his right hand and stuck his tongue out. The smeared silhouette put the cup to her ear just then.
“No! No! I can hear your heartbeat!”
The young boy stared, dumbfounded by the girl.
“N-No? Show me!” She placed the cup on the left side of her chest and he mashed the lip of his cup against the side of his head, listening intently.
[b]Dum dum.. dum dum.. dum dum..[/b]
Just then, the cup was yanked violently from his ear and the girl laughed.
“See? Told ya so!” All the puppeteer could respond with was a grin.[/i]

For so long, he had felt the cold sting of betrayal. He had walked into the chambers of his cofounder with the breathless body of a woman he had never found the comfort in meeting; in knowing. He had met her as a subordinate, but she was the one who had him smitten at a glance. For so long, he had dreamt of a day where he could feel her breath—even hear it. Where he could sense the beat of her heart, smell the scent of her hair, or feel that soft brush of her fingers as they slipped through his. After all of the trouble he had gone through to fetch her, the pang of her death, and the acquiring of yet another body just for her reincarnation. And after that, not a word had been spoken of her fate.

For so long, he had carried on with the monotony of loneliness. There was no itch to feel one with another, because there was no provocation. He had not forgotten about her, and it pained him at a deeper level than he could express. After all, he had no more than business associates technically. His heart had grown numb, and it drew his attention for a moment. He listened hard on the day that it skipped a beat, because suddenly the pitch had changed. It wasn't fuzzy or anything. In fact, it was familiar. For some reason, it was the most comforting thing he remembered.

[b]Dum dum.. dum dum.. dum dum..[/b]

Then, as Cain stood at the threshold of his latest, possibly most important mission with the corporation thus far, he felt it. First it was like a fishing lure drawing taught when a fish tests the bait. Then there was another nibble. Then a bite and the strongest pull he had ever felt in his life.

[i]”See? Told ya so!”[/i]

And Cain saw her smiling face. For the first time since he’d left it lifeless, eyes left open by an unceremonious examination. When he saw them then, there was no light behind them, no soul to pour its countenance into their brilliance. This face was not dead though, no, it was full of life. The cheeks that possessed color, the eyes that shone with coruscating light, the smile that had compelled him through the worst of times before even having met this enchanting woman all came slamming into him at supersonic speed, knocking his entire life spiralling off its axis all because of a [i]feeling?[/i]

So he walked. He did not know what he was following or where it was taking him. Every day, though, he followed it from sunrise to sunset. Sometimes it moved, and so he would change course. Eventually the tug grew stronger, and he sped up. He began using all means necessary to catch the person at the other end of the string attached to his heart and soul. His puppets, his wits, his body and mind all grew tired here, though, and so he fell to his scraped knees in the snow. Looking over his shoulder at the footprints would retrace him back through the forest that surrounded him, then the town of Ashville, then around the world and back what felt like a thousand times, he drew one last wretching, uncontrolled breath before falling to his hands.

He just remembered the cold, thinking how it would be his demise. How funny it was that some great sorcerer or warrior would not be his death, but a snowstorm that would never even find its way to the populace. That, and how close to her he had felt before all hope seemed lost.She had been close for hours, but where was close? He had searched the town nearby, sent puppet scouts to scavenge the entire area, even joined them once he had finished with the central city. [i]Nothing.[/i] For all the experience and professionalism he had prided himself with all his life, the best he could give was [i]nothing[/i] in comparison to this behemoth emotion that had overwhelmed him in the first place.

Not for the possibility of losing part of his organization, not for his incapability, not for his pain, but for the fact that he could not see or or touch what he felt was so close, Cain Rose broke down and wept.

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif][SIZE=3][I]tick.. tock.. tick.. tock..[/I][/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman, serif][SIZE=3][B]left.. right.. left.. right..[/B][/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif][SIZE=3]Cain's head lulled back and forth, following its pendulum reflection across the open room on a wooden platform just large enough for his four-legged wooden chair and his feet to be carelessly strewn about before him. Three feet in front of him, the giant golden clockwork swung. His cerulean goggles hid the blue waves of titanic proportion as they directed his gaze one way, then another. On the other side of the mammoth plate, a huge window painted the sky and horizon of Last Chance.[/SIZE][/FONT]



[FONT=Times New Roman, serif][SIZE=3]Place: Main HQ[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman, serif][SIZE=3]Date: March 12[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman, serif][SIZE=3]The puppeteer swept the bangs that poked from holes in his bandana, climbed over the rim of his sandstorm goggles, and spiraled down before his eyes to the side. He put a gloved palm up to his forehead to block a bit of sunlight so he could examine the new front of his beloved organization. Heading inside to see the innards of the operation, he would walk about not necessarily welcomed, but obviously not looked upon with sour taste. After all, he had managed entry. It was a feat to even fathom detection, so if he was just waltzing about on the inside, nobody could really take him as anything but friendly. Of course, there would be the glances of recognition, maybe even the stare of adoration as he swept through each room like a breeze. He left so many of his old colleagues sitting in their swiveling chairs or cutting boxes, printing documents, or doing their humdrum work wondering “Did he really just walk by?” or maybe “Did I just see a ghost?”[/SIZE][/FONT]



[FONT=Times New Roman, serif][SIZE=3]Whatever the case was, he walked into the familiar room with a casual smile. His hands were both behind his back because, well, he needed to at least have a presentable posture if he couldn't dress accordingly. As he entered the room walled in by nature's duality and closed the door, his torso cocked itself slightly to the side and a thin, catlike grin adorned his face while his left hand shot a friendly wave to his former associate. He half-expected an “I should kill you.” or some halfhearted gesture of welcome, but instead he seemed to hop right back into the groove with a fresh manilla folder stacked with 1 dossier to the order of Cain Rose. He picked it up immediately. All of the camaraderie of old business was gone. That was for the weak. When there's work to be done, there's certainly work to be done.[/SIZE][/FONT]



[FONT=Times New Roman, serif][SIZE=3]He read the contents for a while, then looked up to the man who had handed it to him and nodded.[/SIZE][/FONT]



“[FONT=Times New Roman, serif][SIZE=3]I understand the basic gist of this,” He began. He knew why it had to happen, and he knew how to organize it. He just needed the details. Standing up and slapping the folder on the desk, Cain cast one more glance at the name scrawled in giant letters across the center of the envelope.[/SIZE][/FONT]



[B]“[FONT=Times New Roman, serif][SIZE=3]Glinda Double”[/SIZE][/FONT][/B]



[FONT=Times New Roman, serif][SIZE=3]His mouth was closed, stern. His gaze lifted once more as he turned to the door and put his hand on the knob. It had been so long since their eyes met, and when they did, the spark of cohabitation and collaboration ignited immediately. This man made himself renowned for being crafty, perhaps, but with under-the-table work, he could be dealt with in a civil manner. Here was the most prime example. Symbiosis.[/SIZE][/FONT]



“[FONT=Times New Roman, serif][SIZE=3]I can handle it.”[/SIZE][/FONT]



[FONT=Times New Roman, serif][SIZE=3]And the door clicked shut silently behind the reaper.[/SIZE][/FONT]



[FONT=Times New Roman, serif][SIZE=3]Place: Last Chance[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman, serif][SIZE=3]Date: March 13[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman, serif][SIZE=3]Cain's hands dug deeply into his pockets as he stepped from an alleyway that he hadn't seemed to inhabit moments earlier. He walked with a purpose, knowing exactly where he had to go and who he had to meet. 'Twas a night for a plotted kidnapping and a nice talk. The illustrious Cain Rose walked with his steeds posted all about the street. The moon as his only witness, he stood at the corner where a bridge on a small channel met a sidewalk with a light post on it. He waited for the girl he was supposed to be working with.[/SIZE][/FONT]



[FONT=Times New Roman, serif][SIZE=3]He cringed at the thought of a [I]replacement.[/I] Just the word sounded snoody, but he would wait for her and see what he deemed fit to call her. He tumbled the small roll of paper with his tongue as it spun, half-unraveling and then raveling itself back up.[/SIZE][/FONT]



[FONT=Times New Roman, serif][SIZE=3]Then, there it always was[/SIZE][/FONT]



[FONT=Times New Roman, serif][SIZE=3][I]tick.. tock.. tick.. tock..[/I][/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman, serif][SIZE=3][B]left.. right.. left.. right..[/B][/SIZE][/FONT]