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Clocks (Complete Copy); The whole damn thing with some edits
Topic Started: Sep 21 2008, 01:19 AM (350 Views)
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This is the same story I have posted previously. It is meerly the whole story with some edits and corrections for flow and spelling and whatnot. Also it has the end of the story included. If you have been keeping in touch with the story up-untill now you have read it untill the point where I made a line, like so ___________________ below that line is where the story continues. If you have not read any of the story, read the whole thing, not just after that line.



Prologue


>The room was dim, but not too dark to see. On the walls there were clocks, 2 for every minute and every hour on the clock. Each stopped at its own hour or minute. In the center of the room a many-faceted crystal flaunted four faces for each clock. Inside this crystal a strange purple glow emanated from a source shrouded in grey smoke. None of the clocks’ hands moved, in fact the only movement in the room was the shadow-play caused by the slow movement of the smoke in the gem.

>A man stood, motionless, staring into the center of the gem. His name was Edward M. Grey. He looked deep into the smoke, as if trying to discern some knowledge from the source of the glow. For some time the room remained thus, then as if by some signal, the man looked up, his gaze directed at a certain clock. This clock, for they were of varying size and caliber, was an ancient oak grandfather clock, its pendulum motionless and its hands pointed at the thirteenth minute of the first hour.

>Edward walked slowly toward 1:13 reaching out a hand to touch its glass face. He closed his eyes as if experiencing some profound moment of joy or pain, or revelation. He whispered a few words too low to be heard, then after another minute or so walked quickly away, out the door of the room and into the hall-ways beyond…



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Part 1

>Edward paced quickly up the 3 flights of stairs toward ground level, going upward, out of the reach the fears waiting below the surface… at the great double door leading out to the ground floor of the complex he was stopped by a guard. In the guard’s hands were two obsidian-black longish knives, their surfaces solid but for a constantly moving sheen of color.

>The guard expectantly held out his hand. Edward placed a red multi-faceted gem in the guard’s hand, which the guard then placed into a small complicated niche in the wall. When the crystal was turned the door began to click and hum, the sounds of massive clockworks grinding came from the walls, and latches sprung away from their inside the doors thick interior, and on both its sides. As the door opened Edward could see its true size. Three men could stand on each others’ shoulders and barely reach the top, while the width of each side was that of a queen bed. The inner sides that met together when closed were large enough to crush a large man. Also the door’s interior, where it was not solid steel, was riddled with a complex labyrinth of latches, gears, cogs, and wicked, barbed spines. In short, it was a door not to be trifled with.

>Edward carefully stepped through the massive doorway, stooping down to lift in his hand what looked like it had once been some unlucky bone, it now more resembled a lump of white sharp stones.

>“You should have someone clean that up more often, Grimm.” He said in an offhand way “we wouldn’t want someone to slip.” His voice was dry, but sounded like it was masking some other emotions and his eyes were unfocused, suggesting his mind’s absence from this situation.

>He walked onward, toward a spiral stairway which rose some 5 stories into a room whose walls were made from black glass, laced with a network of supporting ribbons of a red metal, resembling the color of blood, or expensive silk. He slowly lowered himself into a chair made from what looked like vines frozen in the perfect form and petrified into jade. He sighed, and looked toward a smoky substance hovering in the far side of the octagonal glass tower. He spoke a few words in a language similar to the ancient Arabic tongues then stared expectantly at the smoke. It twitched as if an electric current had run through it then flooded across the room to his chair. He spoke again emphasizing a single word more than the rest “Isaac”. Slowly a face appeared in the misty form, then another charge ran through it, and the face cleared.

>It was the pale face of a man, with dark hair hanging down, over shrunken skin and prominent cheek bones which appeared almost ready to break through the pale, stretched skin. The man’s eyes were purest jade laced with Safire blues; unique patterns in the two bright, different colors looked like the cracks that form in dried mud, but for the brilliant colors.

>“Why do you wake me in this hour of light, young Edward?” The voice rasped and crackled as if no water had touched that shrunken throat for thousands of years. “The sun weakens me. Do you want me to die Edward, is that why you cannot wait till my hours of darkness to destroy my peace?” anger filtered into the man’s voice, “Be quick young Edward, my rest is precious, and my wrath is perilous…”

>“Forgive me, we haven’t much time my good friend Isaac, trouble is stirring for our likes, and it would be best we were together for the fight, rather than divided for the fall…” Edward’s voice went on as the two conversed, and the sun began it’s descent behind the jagged granite mountains…


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>D awoke with a sigh, looking up at her black ceiling and walls. She quickly got up and dressed for the day, a black and grey loose fitting suit of sorts, more efficient than stylish. She worked as a trainer in the art of unarmed combat usually, and in desperate times, or when the job paid very well, as an assassin. Her true name was Diana, a name she despised passionately, very few were brave enough to call her anything other than D.

>She had gotten a call from a man named Edward Grey earlier the day before, asking that she join him at his estate for a job proposition which he said “could barely be refused…” Obviously she was going to go, so she quickly ate a small breakfast of fruit, and went to the escort, who appeared to have been waiting for some time. “I assume you’re sent by Mister Grey?” she greeted him.

>“A fair assumption,” He answered evenly, proffering an open door to the clockwork carriage, “I’m sure you’re anxious to be away, it’s a big thing he’s asking of you…” He studied her face, “he didn’t tell you then?”

>She shook her head quizzically.

>“I’ll let him explain in person then, I’m sure he has his reasons…” with that he guided her to the carriage and assumed the controls. Under his expert hands, it sped quietly forward toward the ‘Black Palace’. “I’m Grimm” he said, as conversationally as his rough voice could manage. “Usually I act as a discreet guard in the palace, but today I seem to be ferrying you to and from where you need to be…” his voice trailed off, and they were silent for the rest of the journey. Silence was more comfortable for both of them than the rough superficial speech of strangers.

>Once inside the palace, D was greeted by pale, dark haired man with grey eyes and a prominent nose. “I am Edward.” He said simply. “You must want to hear my proposition; it is the job to change the world quite literally.

>“Before I hear about the job Mr. Grey, I’d like to know a little about you, I prefer to work for an employer if I understand their motives…”

>“Quite fair.” His velvet voice was still even and polite, which surprised, that little test usually infuriated an employer. “I’ll be blunt. I run a criminal empire from here, and have for nearly 15 years, I deal with the best and worst of society. I quite literally control half of the underworld. The family empire was given to me at the age of 13, as is custom, and my father and his advisors guided me, and taught me. Today, my father is dead, and I am faced with the largest conflict our family has seen for nearly 300 years. My honesty is due to the fact that I need you Diana, I need you to help me. Now I need to show you something to better explain my predicament.”

>He guided her to the large black iron door and discretely began the mechanism, hurrying her through, before the door closed, carrying enough force to crush bones like twigs. And down to the room of clocks, his body guard, Grimm silently shadowing them until the door of the clock-room, where he stopped and took position.

>D silently marveled at the room, examining the facetted gem in the center closely, but instinctively let her focus wander over it, staying less than a second on any part. She felt a buzz charging through her limbs, and through the room, and unconsciously felt to make sure her iron ear piercings and necklace were there, to ward off most magic. “What is this place” she wondered aloud, slipping, in her silence.

>“A place charged with the forces of magic, as I’m sure you noticed. I use it to channel my gift…” he paused for a second. “I was born with foresight, these clocks can show me any moment of the decided future. I can only see the outcome of the current decisions people, and creatures have made, if a decision changes, so does what I see…” his voice trailed off, then regaining his momentum. “The facet in the center can show every memory of those who have gazed into its center…” He stopped again, considering his next words. “Let me tell you what I need you to do, you can now understand why I know to ask for you in particular…forces are in motion that can only be changed by the right person…importantly, you are the right person…I fear I may have said too much though…let us leave this place, I’ll explain the job.”

>They walked out, through the door, and up the stairs, to the Black Glass room with the jade chairs. Their voices whispered late into the night, and for most of the next day, disagreeing, agreeing, and debating points. Finally they ended their conversation over the second dinner of their meeting. “One last thing” D’s eyes were serious, “Never call me Diana again.

>“Never” his voice stayed calm, but a laugh seemed to simmer behind his grey storm-cloud eyes…

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<><><><><>Observations
<><><><><><><>As D enters the Palace for the first time…
>As Edward greeted her D wondered what could be important enough that such a prominent underground figure as Edward Grey to contact her. She internally sneered at his “Job to change the world” bit. Rather than show her knowledge of him she decided to put him to on of her many tests of character. It was simple, she asked him about himself; his answer, would give her some information, whatever it may be. She was slightly surprised by his honesty, but not convinced of his good wishes, nor even did she suspect that he had any. She listened to his story, though she already knew it, reasoning that the less he knew about her the better, and that he might let something slip that was worth knowing.

>As she was guided toward the clock-room she made note of his infamous body guard Grimm shadowing them. Something seemed off about both these strange people, like they were withholding some vital information. Inside the clock-room she couldn’t help but be impressed, but also felt more cautious. An employer that could see the future was never completely honest, people with the gift of foresight were manipulators, expert at making you do what they wanted, gauging your future reactions before you could have them, not people to be trusted, only people to act trusting around. The facet in the center was an unknown factor, his information about it was likely false; she would have to be careful until she found out its use….

>On the way away from the clock room she noticed Grimm’s knives hidden in the folds of his long coat, and the form of light body armor under his loose clothes, another sign of possible treachery. As they mounted the stairs toward the black glass observation room she watched Edward, noticing how he seemed to hide something under his long black cloak, how his eyes reacted to different things, how quick his reflexes were, storing the information for later use.

>She wondered at his earlier slip, if it had truly been a slip, about “maybe I have said too much…” and quickly decided it was another deception, to manipulate her.

>Over their long hours of speaking Edward described the “Job”. Her objective was actually a whole group of tasks which according to Mr. Grey would decide the better or worse of the future for years to come. yeah right… she feigned belief in his stories, holding her own opinions in guarded silence. He said that D needed to “dispose of” a woman who went by the name of Isabel del Luna, her real name, he said, had been lost for years to all but her.

>They discussed in detail, the manners in which she should, and should not do this beginning job. Trivial details, like the pay at the end of the job, and more details important to them, but for the purpose of time not listed in full.

>At intervals undefined they would change to a different room to examine maps, blueprints and other mission material; absently D wondered why she was being so thoroughly prepared, and noted the seemingly infinite patience with this tedious preparation that Edward showed. He showed one strange sign of anxiety, an unconscious habit of picking up inanimate objects and ordering them differently, in patterns. Seemingly meaningless patterns, but D remembered them; she would take them to some of her contacts and ask if there was any meaning to them. Leave nothing to chance she thought. It may only seem unconscious…
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Part 2
**Isabella**

>The job wasn’t hard. All Isabella had to do was find a good doppelganger and glamour them into looking exactly like her. Edward had been quite clear, no mistakes. He had been clear, the assassin must believe that she had killed Isabella; any mistake would cost her dearly.

>Before we continue let us know more about Isabella…..

<>Three months before…..The battlefield……

>Isabella de la Luna watched contentedly as her warriors tore through the ranks of battle-hardened men with the efficiency like to that of a sword hacking through dried grass; quick, efficient, and utterly without mercy. Men wielding the rarest weapons, from the taboo weapon, the gun, to the ancient Samurai’s Katanas fell harmlessly before the onslaught. The clockwork soldiers were a completely new magic. They were Isabella’s design, her spell work, her armor, and her special flavor of hate.

>The clockwork soldier looked like a giant human-thing with four arms, and no eyes, covered in glossy-black armor. Their heads, if they can be called that, were the same black gasoline-spill color-play. But they glowed with a violent shade of red, as if they were filled with blood, and illuminated by some macabre source. Inside their armor an intricate mass of clockwork gears and cogs spun and whirled, making strange movements of all the apertures. These were Isabella’s greatest invention, one of death, pain, and fear. These were her finest areas of expertise.

>Isabella was a sorceress, assassin, and necromancer whose sole pleasure came from the pain she caused to others. She was the daughter the sadistic leader of a guild of assassins called ‘The Order of the Red Rose’. Isabella de la Luna was not called de la Luna because she liked the sound of the name. She was called Isabella de la Luna or Isabella of the moon, in reverent fear. She had performed more assassinations than many hardened professionals can in an entire career, but by the age of 16. At 20 she was considered the most skilled killer in the world by all who knew of her, who were few. Those so privileged were not at liberty to share their information. At the age of 25 she began work in the deep arts of magic and necromancy, and earned the name ‘Sombra de la Noche’ when she blotted out the sky with a cloud of dust for four days and nights. Her most recent invention, the clockwork soldier, had returned her name to Isabella de la Luna for reasons undefined chief among these, fear.




<>present day
>Isabella walked down the street slowly, humming a tune in the minor key of F; she was looking for the right person, that perfect rose among thorns. She looked not at the people directly though; she watched some movement on a darker plain of sight, looking for something that cannot be said to be truly seen. She searched for an aura, so to speak, and at that she searched out the darkest she could find. This would be her doppelganger. At last she found a person that would do…this person’s name, as she found presently, was Roxanne’…


>Roxanne regarded the beautiful woman before her (for Isabella in appearance was beautiful as the moon, which helped win her name for her). She thought on the words of the old fortune teller earlier the day before…

>“Before evening next you will be slain by the mistress of the moon….” It was something to that effect, dripping with foreboding.

>Roxanne mentally shrugged off these thoughts, a murderer cannot afford the loss of a potential friend…As if by magic no sooner did these thoughts enter her mind than the woman’s expression changed, “You look frightened” she purred, her English heavily accented by some strange tongue. “I think it is fate that brings me here, for I need someone frightened…” her eyes brightened, and she smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. “Come with my, I can help you…Afterwards, I can guarantee you, you will not be frightened again.” The woman smiled encouragingly. Roxanne, bewildered, followed in silence.


>“Where are you taking me?” she asked dumbly. Receiving no answer, she persisted, “I warn you woman, I am a murderer, do not toy with me…”

>The woman laughed. “You speak to Isabella de la Luna, murder is not a term strong enough for my actions…” with these words she smiled widely, sidestepped into an alley, dragging her victim along with her, and dropped, with her prize, into an open door which she had prepared in advance. Roxanne tried to scream, but found that she could not make a sound; she tried to struggle, but found herself in an iron grip of paralysis. Isabella de la Luna smiled down on her, “Do you think you have felt pain before Roxanne?” she crooned.

>Roxanne could not reply, she desperately rolled her eyes (the only muscles over which she had control) and struggled against her drugged paralysis. She wanted to beg for mercy, beg not to be hurt, but all she could do was lie there and wait for the inevitable…

>The last thing Roxanne heard before her life ended in hours of silent screams of agony was Isabella’s voce, that voice which had been the last that so many heard before deaths of horror, pain, and fear. That seductress’s voice purring in her ear, in a tone that held such pleasure that in most people it would have been described as other-worldly bliss, “So who did you kill?”…
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>Isabella smiled to herself, and licked a little speck of blood off of her fingertip. She had only a few minutes to wait before there would be an abundance of blood around her. Edward had contacted her not an hour ago and told her to finish her preparations. Since her murder of the woman, Roxanne, eight hours had passed. In this time she had woven a massive web of glamour about herself, and about the doppelganger. The scene, which a few hours before had been a macabre representation of the Masque of the Red Death, now appeared to be a small wine cellar. All she had to do now was wait, and the pathetic little assassin ‘D’ would walk into her web.


>D walked silently into the room, almost coughing in disgust at what she saw inside. There was a body in a small alcove on the wall farthest from her. It showed signs of countless tortures, and a painful, pitiful death. Blood covered the walls and floor, and macabre items were strewn over the shelves. About three feet away from the body her target was lounging against a wall, picking her teeth with a long black knife. All her observations were clouded by a faint image of a clean little wine cellar. She recognized this strange double vision from a previous assignment, glamour. D sighed inwardly almost laughing at the idiocy of it. Disguising a room with glamour a room to hide t from her was a completely worthless course of action.

>D gripped her blade tighter, and advanced into the room, in appearance, deceived by the illusions. Her heart was a perfect metronome, slow, even, and quiet. Her hand was steady, almost mechanical, like the iron fist of a statue. She approached the body, which was glamoured into looking like her target, and as she approached she planned her actions carefully. Meanwhile Isabella de la Luna watched happily, oblivious to the trickery. D reached the body, though it took all of her restraint to simply stand and act at being tricked she looked upward, uttering a silent prayer to whatever gods there may be…

>Isabella stood laboriously, scratching a stain off of her blade as she did. She watched D approach the body, watched her utter her silent prayer ‘Praying for a soul that shall not today depart’ she scoffed inwardly. She raised her midnight blade, and widened the smile on her face, her mask of death. As her opera mask smile widened a sudden flash of action stunned her. D whirled around twirling her blade expertly into the heart of the sorceress. D twisted the blade and brought her face up to that of her prey, closing the distance to that which their eyes had barely a foot’s distance between. She again twisted the blade, stretching the black heart at its tip to the point of tearing.

>“I was gifted with the second sight.” She hissed through closed teeth, “And you thought you had me didn’t you?” She smiled and continued, “I know you Isabella de la Luna. I know your soul down to its last fiber of existence.” She pulled the knife upward, bringing her lips almost to Isabella’s neck just below the ear, and bringing their bodies closer, leaving no way for the knife to escape her victim’s body. “And now,” she growled in her high alto, “that soul, it belongs to me. it lives and dies at my command. Before I let you die though, I must know, you were in league with that swine, Edward were you not?”

>A choked word resembling a yes escaped Isabella’s lips.

>“Well then…” D murmured, “I guess I’ll have to kill him next. It wouldn’t do to let him double cross me.” she thrust the knife its remaining quarter-inch of it’s blade into Isabella’s heart, bringing their bodies almost into contact, barely a quarter inch apart, then wrenched the knife away, and kicked Isabella’s legs out from under her. D silently walked out of the room, without a speck of blood marring her composure. She set off toward the palace of Edward Grey.

Conclusion
>Edward Grey looked into the grey swirling mist mist, seeing his old friend, Isaac’s face. He said 5 words, “We have failed my friend.” And then his final three “all is lost…” A knife appeared at his throat, and slid across it, cleanly cutting through his wind pipe and jugular vein. The killer walked away. The vampire, Isaac, saw the killer only once, a small beautiful woman’s frame with a black pony-tail hanging to mid back, walking away. In this silhouette’s hand a knife dripped crimson blood.

>Thus ends our story, with a white silhouette holding a bloody knife, walking into the night. I will let you all draw your own conclusions about what happened to D after this strange double homicide, for your guess is quite as good as mine. I told the story from it’s beginning to its end, the characters live their lives according to their own rules now.
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wow. that was fantastic!
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alright, this is another post, the same story, with some flow edits and stufff like that. if you're reading the story for the first time, read this one, if not, the most prominant changes are in the murder scene, the conclusion, and the little bit about the clockwork soldiers. No magor changes.

<><><><><><>second draft/copy

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Prologue


The room was dim, but not too dark to see. On the walls there were myriad clocks, 2 for every minute and every hour on the clock. Each stopped at its own hour or minute. In the center of the room a many-faceted crystal flaunted four faces for each clock. Inside this crystal a strange purple glow emanated from a source shrouded in grey smoke. None of the clocks’ hands moved, in fact the only illusion of movement in the room was the shadow-play caused by the slow swirling of the smoke in the gem.

A man stood, motionless, staring into the center of the gem. His name was Edward M. Grey. His eyes searched deep into the smoke, as if trying to discern some knowledge from the source of the glow. For some time the room remained thus, then as if by some signal, the man looked up, his gaze directed at a certain clock. This clock, for they were of varying size and style, was an ancient oak grandfather clock, its pendulum motionless and its hands pointed at the thirteenth minute of the first hour.

Edward walked slowly toward 1:13 reaching out a hand to touch its glass face. His eyes closed as if he was experiencing some profound moment of joy or pain, or revelation. He whispered a few words too low to be heard, then after another minute or so walked quickly away, out the door of the room and into the hall-ways beyond…



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Part 1

Edward paced quickly up the 3 flights of stairs toward ground level, going upward, out of the reach the nightmares waiting below the surface… at the great double door leading out to the ground floor of the palace he was stopped by a guard, in whose hands were two obsidian-black longish knives, their surfaces solid but for a constantly moving sheen of color.

The guard sheathed his blades, expectantly holding out his gnarled hand. Edward placed a red multi-faceted gem into the upturned-hand, which was then placed into a small complicated niche in the wall. When the crystal was turned the door began to click and hum. The sounds of massive clockworks grinding came from the walls, and latches sprung away from their inside the doors thick interior, and on both its sides. As the door opened Edward could see its true size. Three men could stand on each others’ shoulders and barely reach the top, while the width of each side was that of a queen bed. The inner sides that met together when closed were large enough to crush a large man. Also the door’s interior, where it was not solid steel, was riddled with a complex labyrinth of latches, gears, cogs, and wicked, barbed spines. In short, it was a door not to be trifled with.

Edward carefully stepped through the massive doorway, stooping down to lift in his hand what looked like it had once been some unlucky bone, it now more resembled a lump of white sharp stones.

“You should have someone clean that up more often, Grimm.” He said in an offhand way “we wouldn’t want someone to slip.” His voice was dry, but seemed to be masking some other emotions, and his eyes were unfocused, suggesting his mind’s absence from this situation.

Edward walked onward, toward a spiral stairway which rose some 5 stories into a room whose walls were made from black glass, laced with a network of supporting ribbons of a red metal. Metal whose color resembling that of fresh blood, or expensive silk. He slowly lowered himself into a masterfully crafted chair formed from what looked like veins frozen in the perfect form and petrified into jade. Sighing, he looked toward a smoky substance hovering evilly in the far side of the octagonal glass tower. He spoke a few words in a language similar to the ancient Arabic tongues then stared expectantly at the smoke. It twitched a, helpless body run through by an electric current, then flooded across the room to his chair. He spoke again emphasizing a single word more than the rest “Isaac”. Slowly a face appeared in the misty form, then another charge ran through it, and the face cleared.

The pale face of a man, with dark hair hanging down, over shrunken skin and prominent cheek bones which appeared almost ready to break through the pale, stretched skin, looked out of the smoke. His eyes were purest jade laced with Safire blues; unique patterns in the two bright, different colors looked like the cracks that form in dried mud, but for the brilliant hues.

“Why do you wake me in this hour of light, young Edward?” The voice rasped and crackled as if no water had touched that shrunken throat for thousands of millennium. “The sun weakens me. Do you want me to die Edward, is that why you cannot wait till the precious hours of darkness to destroy my peace?” anger filtered into the man’s voice, “Be quick young Edward, my rest is precious, and my wrath is perilous…”

“Forgive me, we haven’t much time my good friend Isaac, trouble is stirring for the likes of us, and it would be best we were together for the fight, rather than divided for the fall…” Edward’s voice went on as the two conversed, and the sun began it’s descent behind the jagged granite mountains.


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D awoke with a sigh, looking up at her black ceiling and walls. She quickly got up and dressed for the day. She wore a pale white loose fitting suit of sorts, more efficient than stylish. She worked as a trainer in the art of unarmed combat usually, and in desperate times, or when the job paid very well, she was an assassin. Her true name was Diana, a name she despised passionately, and very few were brave enough to call her.

The day before she had received a message from a man named Edward Grey, asking that she join him at his estate for a job proposition which he said “could barely be refused…” Obviously she would go. When she left her door, an escort was waiting already. He appeared to have been waiting for some time. “I assume you’re sent by Mister Grey?” she greeted him concisely.

“A fair assumption,” He answered evenly, proffering an open door to the clockwork carriage, “I’m sure you’re anxious to be away, it’s a strange thing he’s asking of you…” He studied her face, “he didn’t tell you then?”

She shook her head quizzically.

“I’ll let him explain in person. I’m sure he has his reasons…” with that he guided her to the carriage and assumed the controls. Under his expert hands, it sped quietly forward toward the ‘Black Palace’. “I’m Grimm” he said, as conversationally as his rough voice could manage. “Usually I act as a discreet guard in the palace, but today I seem to be ferrying you to and from where you need to be…” his voice trailed off, and they were silent for the rest of the journey. Silence was more comfortable for both of them than the rough superficial speech of strangers.

Once inside the palace, D was greeted by pale, dark haired man with grey eyes and a prominent nose. “I am Edward.” He said simply. “You must want to hear my proposition; it is the job to change the world quite literally.”

“Before I hear about the job Mr. Grey, I’d like to know a little about you, I prefer to work for an employer if I understand their motives…”

“Quite fair.” His velvet voice was still even and polite, which surprised D, that little test usually infuriated an employer. “I’ll be blunt. I run a criminal empire from here, and have for nearly 15 years, I deal with the best and worst of society. In truth I quite literally control half of the underworld. The family empire was given to me at the age of 13, as is our custom. My father and his advisors guided me, and taught me. Today, my father is dead, and I am faced with the largest conflict our family has seen for nearly 300 years. My honesty is due to the fact that I need you Diana, I need you to help me. Now I need to show you something to better explain my predicament.”

He guided her to the large black iron door and discretely began the mechanism, hurrying her through, before the door closed, carrying enough force to crush bones like twigs. Down to the room of clocks they went, his body guard, Grimm silently shadowing them until the door of the clock-room, where he stopped and took position.

D silently marveled at the room, examining the facetted gem in the center closely, but instinctively letting her focus wander over it, staying less than a second on any part. She felt a buzz charging through her limbs, and through the room, and unconsciously felt to make sure her iron ear piercings and necklace were there, to ward off the magic. “What is this place” she wondered aloud, slipping, in her guarded silence.

“A place charged with the forces of magic, as I’m sure you noticed. I use it to channel my gift…” he paused for a second. “I was born with foresight, these clocks can show me any moment of the decided future. I can only see the outcome of the current decisions people, and creatures have made, if a decision changes, so does what I see…” his voice trailed off, then regaining his momentum. “The facet in the center can show every memory of those who have gazed into its center…” He stopped again, considering his next words. “Let me tell you what I need you to do, you can now understand why I know to ask for you in particular…forces are in motion that can only be changed by the right person…importantly, you are the right person…I fear I may have said too much though…let us leave this place, I’ll explain the job.”

They walked out, through the door, and up the stairs, to the Black Glass room with the jade chairs. Their voices whispered late into the night, and for most of the next day, disagreeing, agreeing, and debating. Finally they ended their conversation over the second dinner of their meeting. “One last thing” D’s eyes were serious, “Never call me Diana again.”

“Never” his voice stayed calm, but a laugh seemed to simmer behind his grey storm-cloud eyes…

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><
<><><><><>Observations
<><><><><><><>As D enters the Palace for the first time…

As Edward greeted her D wondered, what could be important enough that such a prominent underground figure as Edward Grey to contact her. She internally sneered at his “Job to change the world” bit. But, rather than show her knowledge of him she decided to put him to on of her many tests of character. It was simple, she asked him about himself; his answer, would give her some information, whatever it may be. His honesty slightly surprised her, but did not convince her of his good wishes. She did not honestly even suspect that he had any. She listened to his story, though she already knew it, reasoning that the less he knew about her the better, and that he might let something slip that was worth knowing.

As she was guided toward the clock-room she made note of his infamous body guard Grimm shadowing them. Something seemed off about both these strange people, like they were withholding some vital information. Inside the clock-room she couldn’t help but be impressed, but also felt more cautious. An employer that could see the future was never completely honest, people with the gift of foresight were manipulators, expert at making you do what they wanted, gauging your future reactions before you could have them, not people to be trusted, only people to act trusting around. The facet in the center was an unknown factor, his information about it was likely false; she would have to be careful until she found out its use….

On the way away from the clock room she noticed Grimm’s knives hidden in the folds of his long coat, and the form of light body armor under his loose clothes, another sign of possible treachery. As they mounted the stairs toward the black glass observation room she watched Edward, noticing how he seemed to hide something under his long black cloak, how his eyes reacted to different things, how quick his reflexes were, she stored the information mentally for later use.

D wondered at Edward’s earlier slip, if it had truly been a slip, about “maybe I have said too much…” and quickly decided it was another deception, to manipulate her.

Over their long hours of speaking Edward described the “Job”. Her objective was actually a whole group of tasks which according to Mr. Grey would decide the better or worse of the future for years to come. yeah right… she feigned belief in his stories, holding her own opinions in guarded silence. He said that D needed to “dispose of” a woman who went by the name of Isabel de la Luna, her real name, he said, had been lost for years to all but her.

They discussed in detail, the manners in which she should, and should not do this beginning job. Trivial details, like the pay at the end of the job, and more insignificant details important to them, but for the purpose of time not listed in full.

At intervals undefined they would change to a different room to examine maps, blueprints and other mission material; absently D wondered why she was being so thoroughly prepared, and noted the seemingly infinite patience with this tedious preparation that Edward showed. He showed one strange sign of anxiety only, an unconscious habit of picking up inanimate objects and ordering them differently, in patterns, seemingly meaningless patterns. D remembered them; she would take them to some of her contacts and ask if there was any meaning to them. Leave nothing to chance she thought. It may only seem unconscious.
><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><
Part 2
**Isabella**

The job wasn’t hard. All Isabella had to do was find a good doppelganger and glamour them into looking exactly like her. Edward had been quite clear, no mistakes. He had been clear as well that the assassin must believe that she had killed Isabella; any mistake would cost her dearly.

Before we continue let us know a little more about Isabella…..

<>Three months before…..The battlefield……

Isabella de la Luna watched contentedly as her warriors tore through the ranks of battle-hardened men with the efficiency like to that of a sword hacking through dried grass; quick, efficient, and utterly without mercy. Men wielding the rarest weapons, from the taboo weapon, the gun, to the ancient Samurai’s Katanas fell harmlessly before the onslaught. The clockwork soldiers were a completely new magic. They were Isabella’s design, her spell work, her specialized armor, and her special shade of black.

The clockwork soldiers looked like giant human-things with four arms, and no eyes, covered in glossy-black armor, and hovering just above the ground. The ground beneath them turned grey and withered, and the air around them was filled with an evil noxious smoke. Their heads, if they can be called that, were the same black gasoline-spill color-play as their other parts. But they glowed with a violent shade of red, as if they were filled with blood, and illuminated by some macabre source. Inside their armor an intricate mass of clockwork gears and cogs spun and whirled, making strange movements of all the apertures. These were Isabella’s greatest invention, one of death, pain, and fear. These were her finest areas of expertise.

Isabella was a sorceress, assassin, and necromancer whose sole pleasure came from the pain she caused to others. She was the daughter the sadistic leader of a guild of assassins called ‘The Order of the Red Rose’. Isabella de la Luna was not called de la Luna because she liked the sound of the name. She was called Isabella de la Luna or Isabella of the moon, in reverent fear. She had performed more assassinations than many hardened professionals can in an entire career, but she did so by the age of 16. At 20 she was considered the most skilled killer in the world by all who knew of her, who were few. And those so privileged were not at liberty to share their information. At the age of 25 Isabella began work in the deep arts of magic and necromancy, and earned the name ‘Sombra de la Noche’ when she blotted out the sky with a cloud of dust for four days and nights. Her most recent invention, the clockwork soldier, had returned her name to Isabella de la Luna for reasons undefined chief among these, fear.




<>present day
Isabella walked down the street slowly, humming a tune in the minor key of F. She was looking for the right person, that perfect rose among thorns. Auras, rather than faces, bore more importance in this search; she watched some movement on a darker plain of sight, looking for something that cannot be said to be truly seen. She searched out the darkest aura she could find. This would be her doppelganger. At last a rose bloomed out its petals, Roxanne. Roxanne was as close to perfect as could be hoped for by any reasonable person…


Roxanne regarded the beautiful woman before her, for Isabella in, appearance at least, was beautiful as the moon with pale cheeks, silver eyes, and a slim muscular frame. Roxanne suddenly remembered the words of the old fortune teller earlier the day before…

“Before evening next you will be slain by the mistress of the moon….” It was something to that effect, dripping with foreboding. Roxanne scoffed

She mentally shrugged off these thoughts, ‘A murdered cannot afford the loss of a potential friend’ she reasoned. As if by magic no sooner did these thoughts enter her mind than the woman’s expression changed, “You look frightened” she purred, her English heavily accented by some strange desert tongue. “I think it is fate that brings me here, for I need someone frightened…” her eyes brightened, and she smiled, revealing perfect white teeth, slightly longer than normal. “Come with my, I can help you…Afterwards, I can guarantee you, you will not be frightened again Roxanne.” The woman smiled encouragingly. Roxanne, bewildered, followed in silence.


“Where are you taking me?” she asked dumbly. Receiving no answer, she persisted, “I warn you woman, I am a murderer, do not toy with me…”

The woman laughed. “You speak to Isabella de la Luna, murder is not a term strong enough for my actions…” with these words she smiled widely exposing long white incisors, almost a quarter inch longer than those of a normal human. She suddenly sidestepped into an alley, dragging her victim along with her, and dropped, with her prize, into an open door which she had prepared in advance. Roxanne tried to scream, but found that she could not make a sound; she tried to struggle, but found herself in an iron grip of paralysis. Isabella de la Luna smiled down on her, “Do you think you have felt pain before Roxanne?” she crooned.

Roxanne could not reply, she desperately rolled her eyes (the only muscles over which she had control) and struggled against her drugged paralysis. She wanted to beg for mercy, beg not to be hurt, but all she could do was lie there and wait for the inevitable, contemplating the meaning of pain, wishing the word had now the same meaning that it had only minutes before. It had been a tame word, not a happy one, but a predictable word. Everyone knew pain, and most people could handle it. But now…..

The last thing Roxanne heard before her life ended in hours of silent screams of agony was Isabella’s voce, that voice which had tainted so many innocent ears, before deaths of horror, pain, and fear. That seductress’s voice purring in her ear, in a tone that held such pleasure that in most people it would have been described as other-worldly bliss, “So who did you kill my sweet…”
__________________________________________________________________

Isabella smiled to herself, and licked a little speck of blood off of her fingertip. She had only a few minutes to wait before there would be an abundance of blood around her, and blood ripe with potential, much more satisfying than this. Edward had contacted her not an hour ago and told her to finish her preparations, D was coming soon. Since her murder of the woman, Roxanne, eight hours had passed. In this time she had woven a massive web of glamour about herself, and about the doppelganger. The scene, which a few hours before had been a macabre representation of the Masque of the Red Death, now appeared to be a small clean wine cellar. All she had to do now was wait, and the pathetic little assassin ‘D’ would walk into her web.

D walked silently into the room, almost coughing in disgust at what she saw inside. There was a body in a small alcove on the wall farthest from her. It showed signs of countless tortures, and a painful, pitiful death. Blood covered the walls and floor, and macabre items were strewn over the shelves. About three feet away from the body her target was lounging against a wall, picking her teeth with a long black knife. All D’s observations were clouded by a faint image of a clean little wine cellar. This strange double vision was easily recognized as glamour (a term for illusionary magic, commonly used to trick the common populous). D sighed inwardly almost laughing at the idiocy of it. Disguising a room with glamour a room to hide it from her was a completely worthless course of action.

Advancing slowly, and quietly, D gripped her blade tighter, appearing deceived by the illusions. Her heart was a perfect metronome, slow, even, and quiet. Her hand was steady, almost mechanical, like the iron fist of a statue. She approached the body, which was glamoured into looking like her target. D applauded silently at the skill of the sorceress. Two yards away from the body now, she planned her actions carefully, and meticulously kept her charade of deception. Meanwhile Isabella de la Luna watched happily, oblivious to the trickery. D reached the body, though it took all of her restraint to simply stand and act at being tricked she looked upward, uttering a silent prayer to whatever gods there may be…

Meanwhile Isabella stood laboriously, scratching a stain off of her blade as she did. She watched D approach the body, watched her utter her silent prayer ‘Praying for a soul that shall not today depart’ she scoffed inwardly. The vilianess raised her midnight blade, and widened the smile on her face, her mask of death. As her opera mask smile widened a sudden flash of action stunned her. D whirled around twirling her blade expertly into the heart of the sorceress. She twisted the blade and brought her face up to that of her prey, closing the distance to that which their eyes had barely a foot’s distance between each other. She again twisted the blade, stretching the black heart at its tip to the point of tearing.

“I was gifted with the second sight.” She hissed through snarling teeth. “And you thought you had me didn’t you?” She smiled a little and continued. “I know you Isabella de la Luna. I know your soul down to its last fiber of existence.” She pulled the knife upward, bringing her lips almost to Isabella’s neck just below the ear, pulling their bodies closer, leaving no way for the knife to escape her victim’s body. “And now,” she growled in her high alto, “that soul, it belongs to me. It lives and dies at my command. Before I let you die though, I must know, you were in league with that swine, Edward were you not?”

A choked word resembling a yes escaped Isabella’s lips.

“Well then…” D murmured, “I guess I’ll have to kill him next. It wouldn’t do to let him double cross me.” she thrust the knife its remaining quarter-inch of it’s blade into Isabella’s heart, bringing their bodies almost into contact, barely a quarter inch apart, then wrenched the knife away, and kicked Isabella’s legs out from under her. D silently walked out of the room, without a speck of blood marring her composure. She set off toward the palace of Edward Grey.

The last thought of Isabella de la Luna, once the greatest killer in the world, were not of hate, not of sorrow or joy, they were not of remorse, nor of false hope. Her last thoughts were these: ‘Death, it seems is not without a sense of iron.’ Some final words whispered from her desecrated lips. “Goodbye little sister, for we both live, and die by the blade.”
Conclusion
Edward Grey looked into the grey swirling mist mist, seeing his old friend, Isaac’s face. He said 5 words, “We have failed my friend.” And then his final three “all is lost…” A knife appeared at his throat, and slid across it, cleanly cutting through his wind pipe and jugular vein. The killer walked away as his corpse slumped to the floor, dripping blood. The vampire, Isaac, saw the killer only once, a small beautiful woman’s frame with a black pony-tail hanging to mid back, walking away. In this silhouette’s hand a knife dripped crimson blood.

Somewhere in the depths of the palace a great oaken grandfather clock started ticking, as Edward’s last thoughts faded ‘Exactly as I planned…’

Thus ends our story, with a white silhouette holding a bloody knife, walking into the night. I will let you all draw your own conclusions about what happened to D after this strange double homicide, for your guess is quite as good as mine. I told the story from it’s beginning to its end, the characters live their lives according to their own rules now.




sory about the format, dead poets is not friendly to indents.
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+Linden
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awesomesauce
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>.< I'll read it in a bit, promise.
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+Linden
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awesomesauce
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Quote:
 
‘Death, it seems is not without a sense of iron.’

do you mean 'irony'?

I thought it was pretty good. Maybe we need a sequel?
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** Death's servant
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Yes Irony thank you.
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volfie
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the full story is much better and makes more sense than when
you just read thoose excerpts at Gavin's house.
nice work.
Natasha and I are jealous of your talent.
awsome short story.
really cool!. . . .
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** Death's servant
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Genious is one percent inspiration and 99 percent sweat.
~Einstine (I think)
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