Project: Shadow Walker. Dalin Moss
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I was drowning in my own blood. Each breath I took became a dagger that cut into my chest. And YOU did that, Dom.
The elevator chimed, and the doors opened revealing Dom’s apartment. Calling it an apartment sometimes felt like an insult. The size alone made it feel more like a cathedral, with dozens of rooms holding lifetimes of memories. Dom walked through the entrance and down the hallway. Each room he passed gave him pause, a moment to relive one of his realizations that eventually lead towards discovery. He saw the rooms as a brief glance into the past, looking back in time with an eye of envy at the man who still had the world to discover, who was still oblivious to the error of his creation.
The crooked silhouette of the scientist walked towards the large chair in the center of his library room. The red velvet beckoned to him, demanding Dom sit and enjoy the comforts that it would bring. He had spent countless hours in this chair, reading, thinking, looking out over the city. So, Dom sat.
The chair faced a large window, giving Dom a view of the city. He took in the beauty of the skyscrapers, the intricately laid streets, the sun painting dusk onto the buildings below. This could be the last thing he would ever see. Ironically, now that the cults were dying, it was the first time he really felt like a god.
Dom reached into his pocket, fumbling slightly with the small remote he had placed there. One touch of the button would ensure that all he had created would be destroyed. He placed his thumb over the switch, delicately rubbing the smooth metal. So much power restrained in such a small device. He pressed, the remote gave a happy click, and the world became light.
This was Dom’s final gift. It was given to the force that he had thwarted so many years ago. To: Death, From: A Foolish Scientist.
Dom watched the city. Everything electric began vibrating and buzzing. Then, like fireworks celebrating the end, it all exploded.
Dom was washed in heat and smoke as everything around him became fire. The chaos was beautiful, Dom’s final contribution to this dying world. Now all he needed to do was wait. Wait for the virus to destroy his body, wait for the fire to destroy his building, wait for all of this to become a distant dream and all the screaming to finally end.
Dom sat through the flames and waited, but as the heat began searing the flesh from his bones, Death refused to take him.
1: Bandits and Butterflies
"Let's go over it again." Colter said, unfolding the contract and clearing his throat. "A ring of significant value has been located in the Father Tower of the Eastern city Elodin. The tower currently houses a gang of Southern rebels, all human – from what our informants say. You'll know the ring by its onyx color and golden markings. An image in the shape of a phoenix is engraved on its face and the interior of the ring has an unknown inscription. The buyer is unsympathetic to the South and would not mind if bloodshed became necessary to fulfill the contract."
"It won't." Jim said, sharply.
Colter nodded. "Good."
The contractor fetched another parchment from his jacket pocket. As his nimble fingers smoothed out the creased paper, Jim saw the grip of a pistol peer from his beltline. The Hero was undisturbed, knowing that Colter always kept a near armory on his person, but was surprised at his old friend's carelessness in revealing the weapon. He's usually more careful. Something has him nervous.
Colter pointed to the faded blueprint of the Father Tower. "It's safe to assume that the ring will be on the top floor – that's sixty-four stories in total. I'm told.…"
"There are vines that grow as high as the tenth floor and a shaft from a dumbwaiter that reaches from the master suite – on the sixty-fourth floor- all the way down to the kitchens on floor twenty-seven." Jim finished. "I don't mind repetition Colt, but there's something you're not telling me."
Colter let out a huff, allowing his professional persona to dissolve. The simple act made the room feel brighter as the meeting went from one between contractor and thief, to one of friends.
"I don't think you should take this one." Colter said, looking at the floorboards. "There's something…off. This contract is easy, yet it was terribly expensive."
"We've had easy contracts before, Colt." Jim reassured.
"But none that involved Southerners."
Jim was quiet for a time, searching for understanding in his friend's unease. "I can handle my own people."
"Can you?" Colter took a step forward. "If a man from your faction ran at you with a knife, would you be able to cut him down before he warned of your arrival? Or what if you're spotted, what then? They'll know who you are, there's already rumors whispered in every city about that mission you botched in Forge. What was that? Eighty years of hiding? All for naught due to a single night."
"It won't come to that."
"You're sure?"
"I am."
"You're a liar."
Jim shrugged. "I'm a thief."
"Fine." Colter pulled a knife from his belt and held it out for Jim to take. The thief dutifully took the blade and ran it across the tip of his thumb. Then, he placed the wound in the upper corner of the contract. "With your blood, this contract is yours."
Jim moved to the door. "Three weeks. I'll meet you in Indrasmos." He said, then exited the room.
▫ ▫ ▫ ▫ ▫ ▫ ▫ ▫
Elodin was a city of sparsity: the few houses were tall and separated by long stretches of road, the market was comprised of less than a dozen merchants, and the wall that surrounded the city was plain and stone. In the darkness of night, Jim wandered down the vacant streets, moving ever closer to the East edge of Elodin where the three towers looked down upon the sleeping city.
The towers were the only real thing of significance in this place. Each structure was rumored to have been built during The Time Before, and each was now worshiped individually by the followers of Vlour. The tower on the Northern point was known as the Spirit Tower, the one to the South was called the Child Tower, and the one in the center, the tallest of the three, was named the Father Tower. They were dangerous places to hide; a sure way to earn the title of enemy to the masses that followed the Vlour's teachings. But the few bandits that Jim had known, cared little of enemies and friends.
The thief stalked outside the three towers, looking through the hundreds of windows for any signs of life. Quiet. Nothing. Asleep. Jim sprinted forward, quick and soundless, covering the long stretch of empty road in a few, short steps. He pushed his body up against the Father Tower, trying to blend into the dark shadow at its base. Then he waited, listened, using all of his fine senses to ensure he was safe and unnoticed.
After a full minute of silence, Jim crouched around until he spotted the tall, sturdy vines that crawled along the Father Tower. He took a handful of the foliage and pulled hard. When the vines remained attached to the wall, the thief hoisted himself off the ground and began the ten-story climb.
The window was locked, but, prying with a knife, Jim was able to snap the delicate metal lock and enter the Father Tower. Inside, the floorboards were covered in a layer of heavy dust. The walls were covered in ripped paper and decorated by unlit sconces. A small plaque with the word stairs pointed to a door at the opposite end of the hallway.
As he moved, Jim searched the dust for indications of footprints and recent movement but found none. He silently opened the door to the stairwell and began his ascent to the twenty-seventh floor.
As Jim approached his destination, the clank of metal rang from the doorway ahead, followed by the sound of angry voices. Jim pressed his ear against the door and listened. The voices of two men sounded as hushed shouts, their words distorted but their emotion obvious. Jim slowly turned the door handle and cracked the door open.
"…mone had heard you, we'd be marked and convicted by the church. You need to be more careful!" One man chastised.
"It slipped!"