FICLET: "A Fly on the Wall"
The set up for an evil subplot that's been sitting in my head for days, if not weeks...
A Fly on the Wall
WARNING: Merv/Flood slash and some mild creepiness toward the end. Any oddities in a character's speech is an attempt at phonetically rendering his very strange voice...
The Merovingian sighed with contentment as he dismounted from Flood's huddled form and settled back on his pillows. His partner for the past hour lay still, waiting for the soreness to subside to a dull ache and for his superior to drift off to sleep.
"How long has it been since I first began to partake of your beauty?" the elder program asked.
Flood's hands tensed on the bedcovers for a moment, as he considered the answer. Too long for me, considering where my tastes lie, was his initial thought. "It's been six long months since I started letting you come in to me," he replied.
"And you still find no delight in it?" the Merovingian asked, leaning closer to him.
Flood's body gathered itself, as if preparing for another round of being pinned and penetrated. "No, it does not."
The Merovingian considered that in silence. "Then perhaps I should relieve you of this duty. The young anthromorph whose soul I soothed has laid hold of my affections. And he lets me approach him with pleasure and delight."
"At least you discovered someone who can appreciate your attentions," Flood replied.
"In that case, I will transfer this burden of service to his much more willing shoulders," the Merovingian replied.
Flood's 'heart' seemed to skip a beat. "I appreciate that, sir--"
"--For a small price. Complete to my satisfaction the task I offer to you and I shall no longer call you to my bed."
Flood turned his face away, licking his lips, trying to keep himself from begging: "Name the task and I'll carry it out."
The Merovingian sat up and turned Flood over to look into his eyes as he spoke: "Slay Persephone and bring me back her false heart."
Flood's 'heart' dropped in his chest. He had never been one to question what was asked of him, but this time he hesitated.
"Is such a task beneath you? You have killed for me before this." The Merovingian leaned close, his breath fanning the lesser program's cheek, his eyes narrowing, predatory. "Or were you one of her suitors? Have you slipped into her chamber while my back was turned?"
"Codestream forbid it, no: I have never considered your wife that way," Flood replied.
"Then will you be the cause of her demise?"
"I will, my lord."
The Merovingian sat up, patting the inside of Flood's thigh. "The ever dutiful M'sieu' Flood," he said. "Go then to your pleasures, or your plans."
"Any plans for this endeavor will be a pleasure," Flood said, rising from the bed where they lay and seeking out the chair on which his clothes lay.
************************
The following evening, Flood changed the course of his usual nightly routine: he tousled his hair out of its usual careful coiffing and put on a plain black shirt and an off-the-rack black suit, restrapping the ankle holsters for his twin derringers higher up his calf before pulling on a pair of military shoes. A black trench coat, plain black cotton gloves and a black fedora worn low on his brow completed his disguise.
He took the subway to the industrial section of the City, getting off three stops beyond his destination. He walked back, careful to keep his head down, avoiding the occasional pool of light under the street lamps. This way, he'd have time to brace himself. The dank smells from the river nearby and the musty emanations from the darkened warehouses and factory buildings helped prepare him for what awaited him.
He cut down an alleyway between two warehouses, following the miasmas from the river. Reaching the guard rail along the top of the embankment, he climbed over. He slid halfway down the riverbank, careful to keep out of sight from above or below before picking his way along the trash-strewn ground. Something -- most likely a rat -- skittered across his path. He flinched, an old memory flashing in his recall, then caught himself and pressed on. The bulk of the waste-water treatment plant heaved up above him. Ahead, the outlet of a water conduit protruded from the embankment.
Approaching the mouth of the conduit, he pulled himself around the edge of its maw and perched on the lip of the opening, peering into the depths of the pipe.
"Zevuv, come to me. It's the Floodwatchman: there's work for you," he called into the pipe, his voice echoing off the metal walls.
No answer. He wrinkled his nostrils against the chemical stench that rose from the depths of the conduit and waited.
A buzzing sound, amplified by the metal walls of the tunnel, hummed in the near distance. The droning drew closer, growing louder, then with a code-crackle, faded to a low hum. A shadow approached from the depths of the conduit, the shape and form of a tall man in a long shapeless coat, a fedora lowered over his face.
"You called vvfor me, Flood?" the Shadow Man said, his voice low and slightly blurred, as if many voices were speaking as one.
"Yes... The Merovingian has a task for me, but for which I need your compliance."
"What izzz the target?"
"His wife."
The Shadow Man made no reply except for a chuffing, buzzing sound that might have been a laugh. "You joke with me, Flood."
"I'm telling you the truth: She's become a dead weight on his neck: He's tired of her."
"Zzzzzso you azzsk me to zzzstrike at her?"
"I want you to follow her, shadow her for a time. Find a way to get her on her own. Then kill her and cut out her heart: bring it to me."
"Conzzzzsider it done. Zzzshall I eliminate the remainszzzz?"
"If you see fit: I trust your judgement."
"Zzzzsuch a zzshame for zzsouch a pretty woman: I hear zzshe'd had half her huszband'szz men. Were you one of them? Iszz that why you gave me thiszz taszzk?"
"No. I know better than to show any interest in my superior's wife."
"Wiszze. No wonder you zzstayed zzso high in hiszz ezzsteem."
Flood shrugged, but he felt his lean stomach tighten inside him. "I only follow his orders."
"But you would have me follow thezzse?"
"You're more adept at elimination than I am -- when you manage to avoid the sticky traps."
The Shadow Man buzzed in mild irritation. "And will you pay me in the uzzsual way?"
"I'll have more of the antidote shipped to you, to the usual drop. After you manage to complete this task."
"vvvFair enough," the Shadow Man replied, extending his hand to Flood. "You have my hand on it."
Flood took the Shadow Man's hand in his, sealing the deal. But even through the glove that covered his palm, and the glove that covered the other's hand, he could feel the Shadow Man's substance, moving and creeping about under the surface.
A Fly on the Wall
WARNING: Merv/Flood slash and some mild creepiness toward the end. Any oddities in a character's speech is an attempt at phonetically rendering his very strange voice...
The Merovingian sighed with contentment as he dismounted from Flood's huddled form and settled back on his pillows. His partner for the past hour lay still, waiting for the soreness to subside to a dull ache and for his superior to drift off to sleep.
"How long has it been since I first began to partake of your beauty?" the elder program asked.
Flood's hands tensed on the bedcovers for a moment, as he considered the answer. Too long for me, considering where my tastes lie, was his initial thought. "It's been six long months since I started letting you come in to me," he replied.
"And you still find no delight in it?" the Merovingian asked, leaning closer to him.
Flood's body gathered itself, as if preparing for another round of being pinned and penetrated. "No, it does not."
The Merovingian considered that in silence. "Then perhaps I should relieve you of this duty. The young anthromorph whose soul I soothed has laid hold of my affections. And he lets me approach him with pleasure and delight."
"At least you discovered someone who can appreciate your attentions," Flood replied.
"In that case, I will transfer this burden of service to his much more willing shoulders," the Merovingian replied.
Flood's 'heart' seemed to skip a beat. "I appreciate that, sir--"
"--For a small price. Complete to my satisfaction the task I offer to you and I shall no longer call you to my bed."
Flood turned his face away, licking his lips, trying to keep himself from begging: "Name the task and I'll carry it out."
The Merovingian sat up and turned Flood over to look into his eyes as he spoke: "Slay Persephone and bring me back her false heart."
Flood's 'heart' dropped in his chest. He had never been one to question what was asked of him, but this time he hesitated.
"Is such a task beneath you? You have killed for me before this." The Merovingian leaned close, his breath fanning the lesser program's cheek, his eyes narrowing, predatory. "Or were you one of her suitors? Have you slipped into her chamber while my back was turned?"
"Codestream forbid it, no: I have never considered your wife that way," Flood replied.
"Then will you be the cause of her demise?"
"I will, my lord."
The Merovingian sat up, patting the inside of Flood's thigh. "The ever dutiful M'sieu' Flood," he said. "Go then to your pleasures, or your plans."
"Any plans for this endeavor will be a pleasure," Flood said, rising from the bed where they lay and seeking out the chair on which his clothes lay.
************************
The following evening, Flood changed the course of his usual nightly routine: he tousled his hair out of its usual careful coiffing and put on a plain black shirt and an off-the-rack black suit, restrapping the ankle holsters for his twin derringers higher up his calf before pulling on a pair of military shoes. A black trench coat, plain black cotton gloves and a black fedora worn low on his brow completed his disguise.
He took the subway to the industrial section of the City, getting off three stops beyond his destination. He walked back, careful to keep his head down, avoiding the occasional pool of light under the street lamps. This way, he'd have time to brace himself. The dank smells from the river nearby and the musty emanations from the darkened warehouses and factory buildings helped prepare him for what awaited him.
He cut down an alleyway between two warehouses, following the miasmas from the river. Reaching the guard rail along the top of the embankment, he climbed over. He slid halfway down the riverbank, careful to keep out of sight from above or below before picking his way along the trash-strewn ground. Something -- most likely a rat -- skittered across his path. He flinched, an old memory flashing in his recall, then caught himself and pressed on. The bulk of the waste-water treatment plant heaved up above him. Ahead, the outlet of a water conduit protruded from the embankment.
Approaching the mouth of the conduit, he pulled himself around the edge of its maw and perched on the lip of the opening, peering into the depths of the pipe.
"Zevuv, come to me. It's the Floodwatchman: there's work for you," he called into the pipe, his voice echoing off the metal walls.
No answer. He wrinkled his nostrils against the chemical stench that rose from the depths of the conduit and waited.
A buzzing sound, amplified by the metal walls of the tunnel, hummed in the near distance. The droning drew closer, growing louder, then with a code-crackle, faded to a low hum. A shadow approached from the depths of the conduit, the shape and form of a tall man in a long shapeless coat, a fedora lowered over his face.
"You called vvfor me, Flood?" the Shadow Man said, his voice low and slightly blurred, as if many voices were speaking as one.
"Yes... The Merovingian has a task for me, but for which I need your compliance."
"What izzz the target?"
"His wife."
The Shadow Man made no reply except for a chuffing, buzzing sound that might have been a laugh. "You joke with me, Flood."
"I'm telling you the truth: She's become a dead weight on his neck: He's tired of her."
"Zzzzzso you azzsk me to zzzstrike at her?"
"I want you to follow her, shadow her for a time. Find a way to get her on her own. Then kill her and cut out her heart: bring it to me."
"Conzzzzsider it done. Zzzshall I eliminate the remainszzzz?"
"If you see fit: I trust your judgement."
"Zzzzsuch a zzshame for zzsouch a pretty woman: I hear zzshe'd had half her huszband'szz men. Were you one of them? Iszz that why you gave me thiszz taszzk?"
"No. I know better than to show any interest in my superior's wife."
"Wiszze. No wonder you zzstayed zzso high in hiszz ezzsteem."
Flood shrugged, but he felt his lean stomach tighten inside him. "I only follow his orders."
"But you would have me follow thezzse?"
"You're more adept at elimination than I am -- when you manage to avoid the sticky traps."
The Shadow Man buzzed in mild irritation. "And will you pay me in the uzzsual way?"
"I'll have more of the antidote shipped to you, to the usual drop. After you manage to complete this task."
"vvvFair enough," the Shadow Man replied, extending his hand to Flood. "You have my hand on it."
Flood took the Shadow Man's hand in his, sealing the deal. But even through the glove that covered his palm, and the glove that covered the other's hand, he could feel the Shadow Man's substance, moving and creeping about under the surface.