Re: A Begining

[Cormick]

Cormick came back to the waking world with a sharp intake of breath, his good eye opening as far as the swelling would allow. He was a man possessed; his voice detached and calm as the secrets he had been keeping came pouring forth. "A leather worker. . . Blood of a dove. . . so much blood. . . tomb of an unmarked man. . " The man was speaking, as it was desired, but his words jumbled. After-effects of the enchantment perhaps?

When the man woke up, Stry turned his attention back to him. It's true that he had been paying attention - at first - but watching a mental conversation was only so interesting and since he couldn't hear or see anything that was going on he had reverted to doing something important. Checking his mail on his smart phone. Even though he was away there was still business to keep up with. Leather, blood? door? None of it made too much sense to him, even as he sought to put it together in his mind. Was he talking about their personal leather worker or a random one somewhere? Slipping the phone into his pocket he leaned foward, shifting his position against the table. "Can he be more clear?"

Damon pressed his lips together when he heard what spilled from the project's mouth. "For his sake he should hope so," the vampire gave that dry reply to Stry. Cormick would not hear what Damon said, simply because the vampire willed it to be the case. Pushing away from the chair, he strode to the heap of man on the floor and crouched down. His bottomless black eyes setting their trap upon the man's. "Speak again." The invisible fingers of Damon's thrall pressed this command against the man's will, bending it like a reed. "The entirety of what you see in the box, as it exists there. Spare no detail." Pointed emphasis on those last three words. The power thrummed off of Damon and pushed against the man like tight cloth.

There was no more resistance. This time when the man spoke his words would not be jumbled, though the detachment still held in his voice. "The leather worker. . . Kael Strong. To reach them he says 'spill the blood of a dove. Brush it in a vertical line over the left window. After two days go to the cemetery and the tomb of the unmarked man. Your patience will be rewarded.'" Cormick's voice took on a different quality then, one of who was lost in a memory they wished to keep. "They gave me a flower of the palest gray. The Lady would love it, they assured me. Place it upon her pillow and she would be mine."

Cormick started speaking again, this time his words were clearer and he was making better since. Off the top Stry did not know that particular leatherworker, but that did not mean that he would not find out. Everything was going into his memory for later. Then. Then there was the last thing that was said. Stry liked to think of himself as a calm man under many situations. He had seen a few things and dealt in various matters that he could watch a man being brutally tortured and then sit down for a nice conversation over tea, but what this man said about his dead wife. "Hijo de puta!" he was off that table in an instants time and to the crumpled man on the floor. Bent down he had captured the man's shirt in his wrist. The words seethed of anger and hatered. "Matariatu...." Clearly.. he felt like snapping the mans neck for what he had said.

Damon's lip curled into a wolfishly bemused smirk. That was more like it. He rose to his feet, dusting his palms off of unseen dirt. Obviously he was rather pleased with himself, why shouldn't he be? This little project went rather flawlessly, judging from Stry's reaction. And yes, Damon knew full well what the man uttered. He was actually quite tickled by it. It was the first he'd seen Stry react with such vigor. Even passion, one could say. A refreshing sight, as Damon was beginning to wonder if the man had any spunk, as the modern tongue called it. There was just one last thing to do with the heap of a man on the floor, but the vampire was not one to be hasty. He would go no further until he had confirmation that Stry had everything he needed. "Do you wish to know anything further from him, Stry, or is it time to take out the trash?"

"Asesino!" The word was quite literally spat in Stry's face, a token from the man's current position. "You did not deserve her! A Lady should not be left to be tended by servants!" This was what it all came down to. There came a point when a man had nothing left to hide, and Cormick had reached his. A wicked look took over his eye as he sneered up at the man holding him. "You see the good they did her in the end!"

One hand already had the scruff of the mans shirt and as for Cormick, he may not have even got the end of his last words out. The free hand of Stry's had balled to a fist and that hand was shot quickly and directly to the center of the man's face, breaking his nose and causing the man's neck to snap back. There were no words to express what was in Stry's mind at the moment. No words to think or words to say. therefore he simply acted. It was a very short ranged hit causing the impact to be more directed and made with more force. It was satisfying to hear the crack of bone under his fist and when he pulled back he let go of the shirt with a shove. A bit of an effort to ensure that the man wasn't going to simply remain sitting upright. There was blood on Stry's hand now. Terrible thing that was for he had taken pains to remain clean during this little exhibition. The man was going to die, and probably quite soon. If Stry had his way he would slit the mans throat and let him choke on his own blood. "He's dead to me now."

For all Stry's violence, Damon didn't even lift an eyebrow. As old as he was, the manner of creature that he was, naturally the vampire was more than used to seeing such acts. Did he enjoy them? At times. At the present moment, he felt neither one way or the other at the injuries being afflicted on Cormick Montega. What care he for the man, in either direction? He had no reason to love, or to hate. The man was a means to an end, an opportunity for Damon to rid himself of Noel for good. That purpose served, this project was complete. As Cormick tried in vain to tend to himself, one last surge of power came from Damon. This oen was particularly strong, and particularly fatal. For it seized Montega around his heart with invisible fingers. And as fast as the fall of an axe, these fingers squeezed like a vice. The muscle, while resilient to much, could not withstand such pressure for long before valves would be severed and it would burst. "And now," said Damon with all the calm of casual conversation once the deed was done, "He is simply dead."

Good. The man didn't deserve to live and he was glad that he was dead. Stry had his back turned to the man when Fauci finished him off, his knuckles had blood on them and now he was simply wiping them clean with a handkerchief. "That business went better than planned." His voice was back to being as composed as it was during their other conversations. He was back to being the man he was. At least, the man he was for this encounter. "Thank you, Fauci, for your help."

(fin)