RE: Incident [TEXT]
05-29-2013, 11:03 PM
Number 6's illuminated avian wings may be lighting up the entire scene better than any spotlights, but most of the action will probably be too far away to see properly. Whatever. Wherever you find mercs, you find reporters. You can read all about it in the morning paper. Better to just get home.
You break into a stride, dodging the gawping bystanders. As soon as the guards outside the bank vanish from sight you tear off the scarf and throw it in a nearby dumpster. The coat almost follows, but it's a good fit on you and excellent quality. No point in wasting it. Instead you peel it off and carry it over your arm.
Glancing up at the sky, you can see the Queen's fliers have reached Six. He's finding it hard to manoeuvre with wings so large, but flashes of yellow light seem to be keeping the fliers at bay. You wonder what exactly the nature of those flashes is: not lightning, nor flame, but they're obviously attacks of some kind. How is Number 6 creating the wings? What exactly is his power?
Your thoughts are interrupted by two things happening at once: the yellow light vanishes suddenly, leaving you a little blind before your eyes readjust to the darkness, and somebody up in the sky screams. If you had to judge, you'd say they were falling...
In the dark you stand and listen, but there's no accompanying thud after the scream dies out. Could be that you're too far away to hear something like that. Or maybe someone caught them.
You wait, but the sky is dark and the night quiet.
You walk for a few more minutes before the next flash of yellow. The flash rapidly blooms into wings, which slowly circle around the sky. More light appears, burning lines into the darkness above the city. Number 6 casually etches his emblem where everyone can see it.
![[Image: isTr2lD8E5TmR.png]](https://i2.minus.com/isTr2lD8E5TmR.png)
But instead of the '6' that usually takes place as the pupil of the eye, he scores 'VI'.
A few more bursts of yellow to dissuade the dark specks that must be fliers, and then the wings vanish again.
The emblem remains.
“Too gaudy for my tastes, but I guess it gets your attention.”
You freeze. Part of the reason for this is that you were surprised, but also because your brain instantly latches onto the idea that Number 6 is speaking and is standing behind you right now. In the following rush of fear you manage to realise that this isn't the case: the speaker simply has a Riisneian accent.
That's it! You smile and the apprehension vanishes. The accent you couldn't place in Number 6's voice! Riisneian!
You exhale and turn, mildly triumphant for all of a second.
“Oh, shit.”
Esser grins at you. Number 6's monster is leaning against a wall in an alleyway in front of you. His white coat is splattered and smeared with something dark, which is to say nothing of his stained mouth and teeth. You gag a little at the smell.
“I hope I didn't scare you too badly.”
As you watch he pulls off the white coat and lets it fall to the ground. The clothes underneath are simple and dark, but do nothing to hide the spurs of bone, bared muscle or even the giant, yellow eyes blinking at you from places where eyes shouldn't be. You can't say much about the eyes where eyes should be, as he's wearing a broad blindfold. His legs are revealed to be a tangle of bone and muscle that seem to end in two feet not unlike the kind birds have, if stretched vertically and lacking any skin. You just stare.
“Listen, I know I don't look too great right now. This isn't the first impression I wanted to give, nor was the growling monster deal back in the bank. I was feeling a little... strained, let's say.”
You back away.
“What do you want?”
“To offer a warning and a service, as well as make a request.” Esser scratches at his chin with a partially extended claw.
“What warning?”
He sighs. “Six is acting oddly. He never meets with anyone personally until they've been recruited. No exceptions. Until tonight, that is. And did you notice those tricks of his?”
“Tricks?”
“With the lighter, for instance. Sleight of hand. A small thing, but I think he was hoping to impress you with it. That and the entire setup, of course. You're not the kind we recruit, even if you had any proof of being a sparker, so I'm just sitting here and wondering where he's going with this.”
“So – what? You're warning me that Number 6 is dangerous? Really? I worked that one out a while ago!”
“He wants something from you. I have no idea what he's thinking, and I know him better than anyone. Look-”
He hesitates, and his voice drops. He even leans in a little.
“As far as I know, Six has only killed one person with his own hands. I don't know the full details, but he was crazy about her. I'm worried that if he gets too fixated... we might see a repeat.”
You stare blankly. You're not sure what's more terrifying: that the murderer is speaking with what sounds like genuine concern, or that the madman is probably going to kill you himself.
“W-what's - what's the service?”
“If Six does get dangerous, I will protect you from him. If you need to contact me, paint this on a wall somewhere.” He reaches over to his coat and withdraws a card rectangle, which you take from his claws with a shaking hand. The only thing on it is a squat isosceles triangle with two thick lines beneath it.
“Don't let anyone see you do that. It's my personal symbol, and only people with my consent can use it.”
“How d'you enforce that?”
He just smiles with those disconcerting teeth. You don't press the point.
“Two out of three. That leaves the request.”
Esser straightens up.
“Don't mention this conversation to anyone. Don't confront Six about the person he killed. And don't mention me to the Myriad, should you find them. I can't stop you doing any of those things, and I don't intend to threaten you to make sure you don't. But this is how I would prefer it.”
Silence. You're too busy trying to calm down and work out a way to react to all this, and Esser has nothing else to say.
So what now?
You break into a stride, dodging the gawping bystanders. As soon as the guards outside the bank vanish from sight you tear off the scarf and throw it in a nearby dumpster. The coat almost follows, but it's a good fit on you and excellent quality. No point in wasting it. Instead you peel it off and carry it over your arm.
Glancing up at the sky, you can see the Queen's fliers have reached Six. He's finding it hard to manoeuvre with wings so large, but flashes of yellow light seem to be keeping the fliers at bay. You wonder what exactly the nature of those flashes is: not lightning, nor flame, but they're obviously attacks of some kind. How is Number 6 creating the wings? What exactly is his power?
Your thoughts are interrupted by two things happening at once: the yellow light vanishes suddenly, leaving you a little blind before your eyes readjust to the darkness, and somebody up in the sky screams. If you had to judge, you'd say they were falling...
In the dark you stand and listen, but there's no accompanying thud after the scream dies out. Could be that you're too far away to hear something like that. Or maybe someone caught them.
You wait, but the sky is dark and the night quiet.
You walk for a few more minutes before the next flash of yellow. The flash rapidly blooms into wings, which slowly circle around the sky. More light appears, burning lines into the darkness above the city. Number 6 casually etches his emblem where everyone can see it.
But instead of the '6' that usually takes place as the pupil of the eye, he scores 'VI'.
A few more bursts of yellow to dissuade the dark specks that must be fliers, and then the wings vanish again.
The emblem remains.
“Too gaudy for my tastes, but I guess it gets your attention.”
You freeze. Part of the reason for this is that you were surprised, but also because your brain instantly latches onto the idea that Number 6 is speaking and is standing behind you right now. In the following rush of fear you manage to realise that this isn't the case: the speaker simply has a Riisneian accent.
That's it! You smile and the apprehension vanishes. The accent you couldn't place in Number 6's voice! Riisneian!
You exhale and turn, mildly triumphant for all of a second.
“Oh, shit.”
Esser grins at you. Number 6's monster is leaning against a wall in an alleyway in front of you. His white coat is splattered and smeared with something dark, which is to say nothing of his stained mouth and teeth. You gag a little at the smell.
“I hope I didn't scare you too badly.”
As you watch he pulls off the white coat and lets it fall to the ground. The clothes underneath are simple and dark, but do nothing to hide the spurs of bone, bared muscle or even the giant, yellow eyes blinking at you from places where eyes shouldn't be. You can't say much about the eyes where eyes should be, as he's wearing a broad blindfold. His legs are revealed to be a tangle of bone and muscle that seem to end in two feet not unlike the kind birds have, if stretched vertically and lacking any skin. You just stare.
“Listen, I know I don't look too great right now. This isn't the first impression I wanted to give, nor was the growling monster deal back in the bank. I was feeling a little... strained, let's say.”
You back away.
“What do you want?”
“To offer a warning and a service, as well as make a request.” Esser scratches at his chin with a partially extended claw.
“What warning?”
He sighs. “Six is acting oddly. He never meets with anyone personally until they've been recruited. No exceptions. Until tonight, that is. And did you notice those tricks of his?”
“Tricks?”
“With the lighter, for instance. Sleight of hand. A small thing, but I think he was hoping to impress you with it. That and the entire setup, of course. You're not the kind we recruit, even if you had any proof of being a sparker, so I'm just sitting here and wondering where he's going with this.”
“So – what? You're warning me that Number 6 is dangerous? Really? I worked that one out a while ago!”
“He wants something from you. I have no idea what he's thinking, and I know him better than anyone. Look-”
He hesitates, and his voice drops. He even leans in a little.
“As far as I know, Six has only killed one person with his own hands. I don't know the full details, but he was crazy about her. I'm worried that if he gets too fixated... we might see a repeat.”
You stare blankly. You're not sure what's more terrifying: that the murderer is speaking with what sounds like genuine concern, or that the madman is probably going to kill you himself.
“W-what's - what's the service?”
“If Six does get dangerous, I will protect you from him. If you need to contact me, paint this on a wall somewhere.” He reaches over to his coat and withdraws a card rectangle, which you take from his claws with a shaking hand. The only thing on it is a squat isosceles triangle with two thick lines beneath it.
“Don't let anyone see you do that. It's my personal symbol, and only people with my consent can use it.”
“How d'you enforce that?”
He just smiles with those disconcerting teeth. You don't press the point.
“Two out of three. That leaves the request.”
Esser straightens up.
“Don't mention this conversation to anyone. Don't confront Six about the person he killed. And don't mention me to the Myriad, should you find them. I can't stop you doing any of those things, and I don't intend to threaten you to make sure you don't. But this is how I would prefer it.”
Silence. You're too busy trying to calm down and work out a way to react to all this, and Esser has nothing else to say.
So what now?