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playthings) wrote2012-04-16 09:48 pm
playthings) wrote2012-04-16 09:48 pm
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❝ an infallible method of conciliating a tiger is to allow oneself to be devoured ❞
[ Colonel Sebastian Moran.
The warehouse Jim had arranged for the evening's work is danker than he would have hoped; the docks aren't a particularly fabulous place when it came to atmosphere. Some deeper part of him enjoys it as it lends an ideal locale to torment a man before getting into the nitty gritty of it. Theatrics and build up aren't usually his area, but this is a special circumstance. An interview, of sorts.
Just two rooms away, surrounded by thick concrete walls in a small room sits a mark, a request to be fulfilled, a job to collect on. Typically it would be done without Moriarty's interference; he usually hated being anything less than three degrees away from this sort of thing. What's the point of controlling so much power if you're expected to get blood on your hands? No, he's never been fond of directly killing anyone since the thrill of his first one. Tonight isn't about this particularly insignificant job but one Colonel Moran who will be executing the job for him.
A plain envelope was placed in Moran's mailbox some time ago, containing nothing more than a magpie seal and a short note on a plain sheet of paper with an address, a date and the name James Moriarty. This wasn't the first communication they have had, albeit it was the first direct one. Sebastian was an unrivaled marksman Jim had caught wind of through the grapevine and he had been trickling jobs to him here and there for months. Each was executed perfectly, more than perfectly, and Jim thought that warranted a bit of an upgrade. It's hard to find talent like that and even harder to let it slip from his grasp.
So he's waiting, patiently mind, to see if this Colonel will work out. ]
The warehouse Jim had arranged for the evening's work is danker than he would have hoped; the docks aren't a particularly fabulous place when it came to atmosphere. Some deeper part of him enjoys it as it lends an ideal locale to torment a man before getting into the nitty gritty of it. Theatrics and build up aren't usually his area, but this is a special circumstance. An interview, of sorts.
Just two rooms away, surrounded by thick concrete walls in a small room sits a mark, a request to be fulfilled, a job to collect on. Typically it would be done without Moriarty's interference; he usually hated being anything less than three degrees away from this sort of thing. What's the point of controlling so much power if you're expected to get blood on your hands? No, he's never been fond of directly killing anyone since the thrill of his first one. Tonight isn't about this particularly insignificant job but one Colonel Moran who will be executing the job for him.
A plain envelope was placed in Moran's mailbox some time ago, containing nothing more than a magpie seal and a short note on a plain sheet of paper with an address, a date and the name James Moriarty. This wasn't the first communication they have had, albeit it was the first direct one. Sebastian was an unrivaled marksman Jim had caught wind of through the grapevine and he had been trickling jobs to him here and there for months. Each was executed perfectly, more than perfectly, and Jim thought that warranted a bit of an upgrade. It's hard to find talent like that and even harder to let it slip from his grasp.
So he's waiting, patiently mind, to see if this Colonel will work out. ]
no subject
But Sebastian's reaction, or lack thereof, is refreshing. Could you blame Jim for looking so thoroughly pleased? His stern threatening expression shifts to a pleasantly entertained, possibly even amused, smirk as he relinquishes the mans hand from his grip. "Then fear not, Basher. I'm sure you'll make a wonderful addition."
He brushes past him, taking his leave of the bloodied room and heading for the warehouse exit, expecting Sebastian to follow. Quickly he sends out a text from his phone to send the various men posted about the docks on their way and a driver around to pick them up.
"Come, there's work to be done and I don't have time to hold your hand and tell you you're a good boy for more than a few hours before I put you to work."