Conrad Selin (thebiglutovsky) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2011-01-16 21:25:00 |
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Entry tags: | #solo, 2009-08-07 |
And the darkness....
Who? Conrad
Where? From There to Here
When? From Then to Now
Why? Well, whever not??
The night was quiet and still, the silence unbroken but for the sound of crickets chirping. A dog ambled through the Parisian city lights, searching for scraps of food in the gutters. Rapid footsteps from an alleyway startled the dog, which yelped and growled.
Conrad turned briefly to look behind himself, counting quietly to himself, "Three, two, one..." An explosion shattered the quiet, followed by an orange glow from several blocks away. He looked at the mangy dog that was still growling quietly at him and cocked his head. "Ready for some REAL fun, dog? Well, here it comes ready or not!"
Seven or eight men of varying heights and sizes roared out from the direction Conrad had come, all yelling angrily in French. They stopped for a moment when they saw him, then shouted in surprise when he hurled himself into their midst. A knife appeared in his hand, pulled from a sheath beneath his jacket, and flashed out into the crowd. Two of the angry Frenchmen cried out as their pants fell to the ground, one gurgled as blood sprayed from the new gash in his neck, and a forth just looked down in shock at the handle jutting from his stomach.
"Come one, come all..." The rakish Witch's eyes sparkled as he danced beyond the reach of the mob. "Let's see which of you has the nerve to come at me alone."
One man stepped forward and pulled a pistol from the waistband of his pants.
"Come now," Conrad drawled, "That's hardly sporting." As the gun wielding man leveled the weapon, he reached into his jacket pocket and removed a handful of dust. Muttering a string of words under his breath, he tossed it into the air toward the gunman. The dust ballooned out into a cloud that encompassed the mob. "It's been fun, gentlemen, but I really must be going."
Curious, the mangy French dog shuffled up and sniffed at Conrad. He grinned, patted its head and jogged off into the night.
~~
Back in his room, Conrad fell back into his cot and stared at the ceiling. The party hadn't gone QUITE how he had anticipated. His magic party trick to turn the wine into water had backfired, which was unfortunate, but it had backfired in such a spectacular way! How the flames had leapt up the walls, and what fantastic colors as all of the liquor burst into flame. He hoped that not too many had been killed in
the blaze, but those who had had been a worthy sacrifice in the name of a good time.
Jean-Pierre and his cohorts chasing after him had been a welcome surprise, because after all what fun was a night ended without fornication or bloodshed? It was too bad about that knife, though. Lovely piece of work, that had been, and the old man he had stolen it from had wept so over its loss.
A sharp knock on the door brought Conrad out of his reverie and to his feet. "Who comes rapping, rapping, rapping, rapping at my chamber door?" He flung the door open and no one was there. A note was pinned to his door with the knife he had only moments before been lamenting. "Only this, and nothing more?"
The paper pinned to the door turned out not to be a note, but a tourist map. Of an American town, no less. Who outside of the states had ever heard of Ann Arbor, Michigan? Sounded dreadfully dull, and this circled area called 'Scarlet Oak'? Why would anyone wade into the Parisian slums to this hovel just to pin a map to his door? Madness, sheer madness. He almost crumpled the map into a ball to throw into
the small fireplace, but something caused him to hesitate. That shade of blue the map had been circled in...
Conrad ran to the phone, "Yes, hello, Philippe? Do we know anyone in Ann Arbor?"
~~
The plane coasted into the Ann Arbor Municipal Airport without a bump. The flight had been uneventful, if far too long for comfort. The taxi driver looked at Conrad's loose garments and raised an eyebrow, but didn't say a word.
Slinging his old leather pack over his shoulder, Conrad climbed into the taxi and grinned, "To the Budget Lodge in Scarlet Oak, if you please, my good man."
"Hey, if you got the money, I'll take you to the devil's doorstep. Not my place to judge."
The Witch's eyes practically glowed from the back seat as he growled, "You're right, it's not."
The driver just shrugged and turned out of the airport drive. He'd driven stranger folks than this since that Light of May business.
Left in silence, Conrad grinned to himself. What new adventures lay ahead in Scarlet Oak?