08-21-2013, 07:29 AM
Another day of work over. They had requested he stay overnight, although why they needed him to be there was lost on him.
As good as he was with tactics and strategy, if a war broke out in the middle of the night, he wouldn't be able to do much about it. They would just press their shiny red buttons and blow the world to pieces. Michael hated it and the parody that they called 'war' in the modern world. True warfare had began to die when gunpowder was discovered. From then on it had been a steep slope of chaos and mindless slaughter.
As he approached the house, his mind turned back to the events of the past few days. Emotions tumbled through his head, frustration, anger, pain and sorrow. It seemed like an eternity since he had been able to relax and enjoy living.
When he entered, he was struck with surprise. The couch and floor had been cleaned and the kitchen was spotless. Surely this wasn't Jaxen's doing. He didn't seem housewife material, but he couldn't imagine Tony doing any of it either. He would have thought they had been robbed aside from the fact the TV and anything remotely valuable was left undisturbed.
He received an even greater shock when Tony came down the stairs. The man had showered and trimmed his beard into a semblance of tidiness.
"Welcome back, Michael."
His voice was stronger today, not addled by alcohol and the bitterness was well disguised. He was attempting to get back on his feet, but he still had a way to go yet.
"Where's Jaxen?"
he asked, accepting Tony's change of heart. He had thought that yesterdays events might trigger something in him - although he had not set out with the intent when he rescued Jaxen.
Tony shook his head with a smile. "Our venerable guest has decided to leave us. Bastard didn't even leave any vodka, although I don't feel much like drinking now."
Michael nodded. He thought as much. As soon as he knew he was not going to die, he needed no more help. It was admirable, the man was fiercely independent, but also very dangerous without having learned the basics.
It reminded him of himself when he had first arrived in Moscow, but by that time he had learned that he must endure humiliation and orders to become strong. Pride was a small price to pay when it brought him the power to defend himself and rise above his enemies.
The thought was strange, even as he was thinking it. How many enemies did he really have? The hunters, sure, but he knew little about them, they could be justified in their pursuit for all he knew.
"Did he say anything?"
Michael asked.
Tony shook his head. "Slipped away like a thief in the night. I thought it might happen, so I left him a little note, but I'm not sure if he read it."
Thief in the night? Really? The man enjoyed the sound of his voice far too much.
"We have done all we can. If he dies, it is his own fault. But I don't think he will. Whatever else can be said about him, he has a knack for self-preservation."
As good as he was with tactics and strategy, if a war broke out in the middle of the night, he wouldn't be able to do much about it. They would just press their shiny red buttons and blow the world to pieces. Michael hated it and the parody that they called 'war' in the modern world. True warfare had began to die when gunpowder was discovered. From then on it had been a steep slope of chaos and mindless slaughter.
As he approached the house, his mind turned back to the events of the past few days. Emotions tumbled through his head, frustration, anger, pain and sorrow. It seemed like an eternity since he had been able to relax and enjoy living.
When he entered, he was struck with surprise. The couch and floor had been cleaned and the kitchen was spotless. Surely this wasn't Jaxen's doing. He didn't seem housewife material, but he couldn't imagine Tony doing any of it either. He would have thought they had been robbed aside from the fact the TV and anything remotely valuable was left undisturbed.
He received an even greater shock when Tony came down the stairs. The man had showered and trimmed his beard into a semblance of tidiness.
"Welcome back, Michael."
His voice was stronger today, not addled by alcohol and the bitterness was well disguised. He was attempting to get back on his feet, but he still had a way to go yet.
"Where's Jaxen?"
he asked, accepting Tony's change of heart. He had thought that yesterdays events might trigger something in him - although he had not set out with the intent when he rescued Jaxen.
Tony shook his head with a smile. "Our venerable guest has decided to leave us. Bastard didn't even leave any vodka, although I don't feel much like drinking now."
Michael nodded. He thought as much. As soon as he knew he was not going to die, he needed no more help. It was admirable, the man was fiercely independent, but also very dangerous without having learned the basics.
It reminded him of himself when he had first arrived in Moscow, but by that time he had learned that he must endure humiliation and orders to become strong. Pride was a small price to pay when it brought him the power to defend himself and rise above his enemies.
The thought was strange, even as he was thinking it. How many enemies did he really have? The hunters, sure, but he knew little about them, they could be justified in their pursuit for all he knew.
"Did he say anything?"
Michael asked.
Tony shook his head. "Slipped away like a thief in the night. I thought it might happen, so I left him a little note, but I'm not sure if he read it."
Thief in the night? Really? The man enjoyed the sound of his voice far too much.
"We have done all we can. If he dies, it is his own fault. But I don't think he will. Whatever else can be said about him, he has a knack for self-preservation."
"She saw a flaring halo around his head, radiant in gold and blue. It shouted of glory and power to come"
"No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it."