Jobe
04-26-08, 05:45 PM
(Closed to Il Amator)
The hard, grainy surface of the wooden floorboards ran rough against the palms of my hands as I crawled through the poorly lit attic. My mind as sharp as whetted steel as I slowly made my way towards my goal. It has to be here, I thought. I mean, where else could it have possibly been? I hadn't much time before my opponent had arrived, and once he had, I'd be on the clock.
Everything had to be perfect.
As a hitman, I found after so many years on the job that about ninety percent of it was preperation. Having to know the layout of the turf I was going to, researching my next victim to make sure I would know him better than I knew the back of my hand, and of course the way I would kill him. After that had been completed, only then would things begin to fall into place. So, I guess you could say I could be a bit anal when it came to attention to the details. After all, if you were to jump from a plane, you'd be sure to check the parachute you were using wasn't defective. Right?
Well, maybe not.
As I crawled into the shadowy duct that connected the attic with the rest of the building, I heard the angelic din of a voice in chorus that rang all the way down the duct and into the world down below. I had no idea what the person belonging to was singing, but I guessed it was in some form of italian, but that wasn't what bothered me the most. It meant they were warming up, and that the show was about to start. There wasn't much time.
My vision rippled with light as I crossed the webbed mesh below me and looked down briefly to see the hordes of hundreds of people who were slowly pouring in through the doors at either end of the auditorium and preparing to take their seats. Soon the entire house would be full of witnesses and events, and like the rest of this place, they were as real as I was. Moving back into the darkness that was as black as pitch, I remembered how concise I was in the specifications for this place. I had demanded to know every square foot, nook, and craney of the opera house that was going to be constructed. Unlike the world of lights below, there were only a handful of ways to navigate through this shadowy maze of catwalks and corridors and I knew them all.
Traps were set, opportunities were in place, and I had made damn sure that I would be able to take advantage of them all. All I needed now was to secure the last cache and then everything would be in place.
(NOTE: I'll be kind about this one and make a summary of the arena: Its at an Opera House that was built. A real one like there would be on Earth with people, singers, and the whole shebang. Anything can be used as a weapon and there are traps and weapon caches spread throughout the whole arena. I figure we can play the trap and caches part by ear, so we'll see how it works out from here. Enjoy.)
The hard, grainy surface of the wooden floorboards ran rough against the palms of my hands as I crawled through the poorly lit attic. My mind as sharp as whetted steel as I slowly made my way towards my goal. It has to be here, I thought. I mean, where else could it have possibly been? I hadn't much time before my opponent had arrived, and once he had, I'd be on the clock.
Everything had to be perfect.
As a hitman, I found after so many years on the job that about ninety percent of it was preperation. Having to know the layout of the turf I was going to, researching my next victim to make sure I would know him better than I knew the back of my hand, and of course the way I would kill him. After that had been completed, only then would things begin to fall into place. So, I guess you could say I could be a bit anal when it came to attention to the details. After all, if you were to jump from a plane, you'd be sure to check the parachute you were using wasn't defective. Right?
Well, maybe not.
As I crawled into the shadowy duct that connected the attic with the rest of the building, I heard the angelic din of a voice in chorus that rang all the way down the duct and into the world down below. I had no idea what the person belonging to was singing, but I guessed it was in some form of italian, but that wasn't what bothered me the most. It meant they were warming up, and that the show was about to start. There wasn't much time.
My vision rippled with light as I crossed the webbed mesh below me and looked down briefly to see the hordes of hundreds of people who were slowly pouring in through the doors at either end of the auditorium and preparing to take their seats. Soon the entire house would be full of witnesses and events, and like the rest of this place, they were as real as I was. Moving back into the darkness that was as black as pitch, I remembered how concise I was in the specifications for this place. I had demanded to know every square foot, nook, and craney of the opera house that was going to be constructed. Unlike the world of lights below, there were only a handful of ways to navigate through this shadowy maze of catwalks and corridors and I knew them all.
Traps were set, opportunities were in place, and I had made damn sure that I would be able to take advantage of them all. All I needed now was to secure the last cache and then everything would be in place.
(NOTE: I'll be kind about this one and make a summary of the arena: Its at an Opera House that was built. A real one like there would be on Earth with people, singers, and the whole shebang. Anything can be used as a weapon and there are traps and weapon caches spread throughout the whole arena. I figure we can play the trap and caches part by ear, so we'll see how it works out from here. Enjoy.)