Post by "Unfettered" on Aug 4, 2007 13:52:47 GMT -8
Answering The Call
*Ring*
*Ring*
A figure sat at his desk, hunched over, muttering to himself. Dimly lit room, except for a small flickering candle. The ringing stopped for a moment. Wasn’t the code. Needed…
*Ring*
*Ring*
…One more…
*Ring*
Scrambling for the cellphone with anxious fingers, he clicked swirled it to his ears, pressing the mouthpiece harshly to his lips.
“Da?”
“Freezing birds, aging wolf.”
“Alter Mann…” came an either overtly strained or relieved voice, “So it is you. Zen zat means…”
“Ja,” croaked the echoing, deep voice on the opposite end of the line. “No hesitation. We have found ze perfect way to reel him in.”
For a bit, the long, black-haired figure remained silent, if only for a few moments. The question of ‘why’, though, ever present on his mind, but not his place to ask. Ever. He owed “Alter Mann” too much. And the fact that he didn’t trust ‘his’ kind fueld the man’s unannounced passions. To prove himself. Da. To prove himself worthy of trust to this old German.
*Snap* *Snap*
“Pay attention!”
“Oh, ah, da, da, sorry.” Shaking his head. Damn. Another failure on his end. “Go on…”
Could’ve sworn he heard a snort.
“Vell zen. Make ready. I have tended to ze extra costs in Mr. Asiv’s absence… and taken care of his remaining eye. Laser-eye surgery of another impurity of his mutter’s.”
“Alter Mann” was mumbling to himself again.
“Pick him up on Saturday. By force, if necessary.”
…By force? But… “Inform ze Todo brothers and Sasha. Have zem aid you.”
No more need for questions. He had his orders. Admittedly, either turn-out of the overall plan, “Alter Mann” would win. It was only natural, with the mindset and flexibility of this entire plan, among other things.
“Sir, yes sir.”
“Alter Mann out.-”
-The line cut.
For a moment, all he could do was take to the bottle of scotch at his left. Didn’t drain it completely. Instead, he put a rag into it, tucking it in nicely.
Pulling on his gear, he activated his gas mask. Time to go. Twenty-eight hours. Touching the candle to the tip of the rag, satisfied that it was properly burning, he whisked it cleanly from the table, and threw it towards the mattress.
He would prove himself worthy of trust.
Bracing his gloved hands, he swung his arms about himself, crashing through the glass window. He was Number 7. God and luck were to be on his side.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Everything was going according to plan. An open ended script. And he was the puppet master, pulling all the strings, fine tuning it to that ‘perfect’ ending. The death of Mr. Asiv insured this. His inside man was already negotiating his way into the school’s infrastructure, becoming part of the staff. Either way German ingenuity and superiority would reign supreme. Corporal punishment? Hah. A step in the right direction… but not quite there. Not just yet. For the betterment of his country, this would be most beneficial. This would be an amazing success, something far more than anyone could ever dream of!
He would personally make sure of that.
