The King and the Phantom [Rave/Rook]

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rook
Veteran Member

2,361 POSTS

Pronouns: he/him
last seen Sept 26, 2023 15:42:53 GMT -5

who needs another thing to be sad about?

The King and the Phantom [Rave/Rook] Aug 10, 2014 17:56:34 GMT -5

Post by rook on Aug 10, 2014 17:56:34 GMT -5

at home there are seventeen year old boys
and their idea of fun
is being in a gang called the disciples
high on crack, toting a machine gun

When you were a little kid you looked up to people like me. You wanted to be living in a world of free will and luxury, with no one pressing down on you. Oppression doesn't exist to people like me. How you wanted to be in this surreal world of fortune and luck. How you looked up with stars in your eyes and your mouth agape. Well bow down kid, because I'm the King. Ain't no one gonna ever be like me, 'cause I'm one of a kind. I create myself, and so you cannot recreate this. You can mould yourself in my image, aspire to follow in my footsteps, but understand this: You will never be me. I'm the fucking King. Bow down.

This guy looks at me with utter confusion. I've been staring at him for the good part of five minutes, assessing him. He can't hear my thoughts. He don't know I'm the King. He don't know that I hate his fucking guts and yet to be perfectly honest I have no justifiable reason to, other than he isn't me. Fact of my life is that I hate everyone who isn't me. He wants some kind of sympathy, but for a young teenager dressed in black, mourning his father's untimely death, he still don't cut it for me. No sympathy from big Errol. I turn my nose up and walk over to the buffet.

The funeral reception ain't spectacular. Spitshine at best. Black tie and suited up, I look damn fine, but the rest of these punks look like tramps. Wasn't their dad fuckin' rich? Their suits are scruffy looking. Maybe that's just my superior sense of style and fashion. I don't exactly dress like a candy-coated capitolite, but I scrub up good. King's gotta look good for his people. I'm only here for one reason, and that's because I'm meeting someone. Colleague of mine. I call him the Phantom, 'cause he moves like one when stalking a target. Plus his name's Phant, so it sort of goes. Phant killed the dad, and he's here at the fucking funeral. Classic, I have to stop myself from giggling to myself.

I grab a few sandwiches, passing a few sorry looking fifty-something-year-olds without so much as a sideways glance. I catch the kid staring at me again, like he suspects I shouldn't be here. Whatever, I got a backstory sorted and everything - You have to if you're risking shit like this. I zig-zag through the hoard of zombified mourners and find Phant, who looks dashing in his funeral attire. I jab an elbow into his rib and pass him a salmon and chive sandwich. I sink my teeth into a crayfish sandwich and grimace. Not as nice as I thought it would be. I fucking hate granary bread. Where's the white loaf at?

I spit a seed on the floor and swallow the rest of the snack, not looking at my fellow Assassin.
"You ain't gonna fuck this up, are you Phant?" I say, taking another small bite of the sub-par sandwich. Poor effort for a District Two funeral. The guy's supposed to be rich and he can't put together a decent sandwich platter for his family once he's dead? Guess he didn't really plan on getting stabbed.
"I don't like fuck-ups. Makes it look bad on me if we return to our Glorious Leader with nothing but mustard stains on our shirts and empty excuses, you feel me?" I turn to him then, "You ain't gonna make me look bad, are you kid?"

The King doesn't like his reputation being scratched.

it's silly no, when a rocket ship explodes
and everybody still wants to fly?
but some say a man ain't happy
unless a man truly dies, oh, why?

an hourglass is just a glass with sand inside

Deleted

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last seen Nov 23, 2024 17:43:41 GMT -5

The King and the Phantom [Rave/Rook] Jan 8, 2015 23:21:59 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Jan 8, 2015 23:21:59 GMT -5

P H A N T I L I U S

Okay, so basically, this huge fuck up is completely not my fault, that's for damn sure.

A little while back, my dearest mentor gave me an easy job, right? Some fuck boy stole something of his and he needed it back, and it didn't seem like that huge a deal, I mean it's just a medallion right, how big of a deal could it actually be, but it's the mentor, when he gives you something to do, you do it. No questions asked. He even laid down some basic facts for me and everything, I mean the old bastard gave me locations and times, practically all I had to do was show up and grab the thing. By the way I'm talking, it sounds like it'd be the harder to fuck it up than to actually do it, and that's because that's exactly how it was.

Yet, but some great god's maneuvering, I, somehow, managed to fuck it up apparently.

I showed up to the spot exactly like he told me, it was some third floor of a cheesy hotel but the guy with the medal was drunk off his ass, I'm talking about the guy nearly fell out of a window and killed himself without my help. All I had to do was wait until he took the thing off, swipe it and go, and me, being the best at what I do, pretty much did that. Except I accidentally killed the guy and somehow messed this entire thing up, I mean fuck me, right? I got out of the hotel flawlessly, of course, while my homeboy was unsafely three floors down in a pile of his own blood. The medallion was on the night stand, so I stuffed it under my shirt it was so fucking flimsy and bam, easiest assignment that bastard has ever given me was finished. No idea why he had to get me to do it, or why he even wanted that scrawny thing when the man can probably get Errol to hit up any jewelry store and get away with it.

But like I said, no fucking questions asked.

Anyways, turns out I wasn't supposed to kill the guy, but I mean, he never said I couldn't kill him. Besides, all I did was push him out an already opened window, which he probably would've fallen out of gracefully without my assistance anyways. Not that big of a deal though, just another really rich man of district two dead. Here's the kicker though: I grabbed the wrong fucking medallion. Shocking, right? Turns out the son of a bitch I pushed out the window was wearing it, and now I'm the dumb ass.

My mentor spent a good hour lecturing off my ears to the point of me wishing I had fallen out that window instead, something about how this mission was a test of patience, which I guess made sense because why else would he give me the easiest fucking assignment. Except now I have to go back and get it from the man's funeral, and since I have a gift of fucking things up apparently, I'm accompanied by Errol. Which is great, working with Mr. Assassin of the Month is always fun.

So, of course, I show up to this funeral two weeks after having my mentor chew me a new asshole, and of course, I'm decked out: suit, ties, whole new lies, everything. I get in easy, told the guy with the cataract in one eye that I was a great cousin and odds are he couldn't even see my face well enough to remember it, so I'm in the clear. It's not terribly hard from what I can tell, our corpse is wearing the medallion still like it's a family medal, so all I have to do is stick my hand in the viewing casket and pull it off him. Not hard, just awkward as hell.

Errol is already somewhere in here - he's supposed to be, the King's gotta set an example I suppose - and I'm just chilling in the corner, waiting for him to pop out. The entire time I'm waiting it's all I can think about, what if I actually get caught stealing from a viewing casket, that'd be embarrassing. I mean, getting arrested in general is embarrassing, but fucking up two assignments in a row, that's bad. Now, you're probably still wondering how this isn't my fault that Errol and I have to be here, well I don't know what to tell you. It's pretty much my fault, but it's easier to deny it in all honesty.

While I'm looking around, there's jab in my side and then Errol shoves a sandwich in my hand, which I'm down with. "You ain't gonna fuck this up, are you Phant?" I'm caught off guard when I hear him bite into his food in place of him adding on the word again, but I mean, it's the King. There's a reason he's number one and it's not completely from good lucks. By the time I touch my sandwich, he starts talking but I'm paying attention more to the grandma mean mugging the priest from across the room. I'm willing to bet that she'd win in a fight against him once when I hear "you feel me?" from Errol, to which I completely and bullshitting like crack a grin at.

"You ain't gonna make me look bad, are you kid?"

"Nah," I don't fuck up twice in a row, Errol. This is easily on my top ten shittest sandwiches though, and I have a good one-third of it left when Errol starts looking at me that I honestly have no idea what to do with. Though, I guess it'd be a pretty shitty thing to do if I threw the rest behind one of the funeral sofas.

"Unless if you don't have a plan, because then I'll just rely on my bullshit."

[presto]

[/presto]

Last Edit: Jan 8, 2015 23:22:55 GMT -5 by Deleted

rook
Veteran Member

2,361 POSTS

Pronouns: he/him
last seen Sept 26, 2023 15:42:53 GMT -5

who needs another thing to be sad about?

The King and the Phantom [Rave/Rook] Feb 23, 2015 9:06:02 GMT -5

Post by rook on Feb 23, 2015 9:06:02 GMT -5

at home there are seventeen year old boys
and their idea of fun
is being in a gang called the disciples
high on crack, toting a machine gun

"Nah." He says so casually. Nah? What the fuck is nah? Nah's the sound a fuckin' goat makes. The King don't want no Nah when he's looking for assurance. No sir, definitely not. Nah so casual I wanna strangle him with his fancy fuckin' bow tie until his face goes purple. Then he'll be a real phantom. Hehe. The Nah is almost so casual that I'm reassured. Not the professionalism I was hoping for but what the fuck do I care about professionalism I am literally the least professional person in the world I am holding a sandwich during an assassination mission.

Been training with Phant since he was like 12, probably. He still looks 12-ish. He's a good guy, and a solid assassin. He does tend to rely on improvisation more than planning and precision, but it works well for him, and he always gets his guy. Eventually. Ain't like the King, who is flawless in every damn department. I catch my reflection in the window and smooth my hand back through my immaculate hair. I blow myself a kiss before Phant's annoying voice interrupts my romantic moment.

"Unless if you don't have a plan, because then I'll just rely on my bullshit." He doesn't look too keen on his sandwich.
"You gonna eat that?" I ask, bringing my hand up to smack the back of his, making him release the sandwich, and allowing me to swipe it from him in a split second. I look at the bite mark in the bread, the filling oozes over and drips into the floor. Ew, Phant better not have any fuckin' illness because I don't watch to catch whatever clumsyness he has or whatever, you feel? I eat his sandwich to show I'm a dominant fucker, and I don't care because I'm in charge and what's his is mine to be honest.

Before he even has time to complain, I start walking, grabbing his sleeve and tugging for him to follow. Keep in line, boy. Once we're out of anyone's earshot, leaning against a chaise lounge, and using a Areca Palm plant as cover, I start to get down to business.
"Dypsis lutescens." I say, pointing a thumb to the plant. A hobby of mine, botany. I giggle, before he shoots me a look and I remember myself. King can't go around stating plants when there's work to be done. First and foremost, the amulet. Phant pushed the guy out of the window, and instead of taking the amulet he took a necklace. Nice, pal. Now we have the simple task of looting a dead body at a funeral. I mean, it would be easier to dig up the body, but rich folk have their coffins fitted with burglar alarms for exactly that reason. Tch. Nah, we have to do it here and now, it's the best opportunity we have.

"Plan, yes." I brush away the leaves of the plant that droop down into my hair, tickling the back of my head. What is the plan? Like fuck if I know. I've been in similar situations before, so I just stick to that.
"Well, there's two of us, so we can have one of us distract everyone whilst the other loots. We can go in guns blazing and take the place hostage, but we'll need masks for that - We don't want our faces on record. We can maybe put some sleeping gas in here and put everyone down, but we don't have any, nor do we have gas masks." I chew my thumbnail, my eyes burying into Phant's, "I'm open to any ideas you have, dipshit."

Because, believe it or not, Phant is good at coming up with stuff on the spot, at least in my opinion. We've been in a lot higher risk situations than this and he's produced. I expect his confidence is just down considering he fucked up pretty badly in the first place with this one, but it can be ammended, and he's level headed, so it shouldn't be too much of an issue. I swear under my breath as I remember I'm supposed to kill a retired Peacekeeper before midnight. I check my gold wristwatch and note that I have a good six hours. No problem, the guy doesn't leave home. Stick to the schedule No problem, Errol, you got plenty of time. This isn't going to take too long.

So our options are: quiet and careful, or loud and stupid. I've explored both approaches before, and they both work pretty well. I prefer stealth, but I'm a pretty obnoxious guy, so the loud and stupid option usually feeds my ego enough. I mean, we can always call in backup too. We have plenty of assassins who are overqualified for a low-key job like this that would love the free sandwiches. Bunch of pricks. I lean on my walking-cane that isn't really a walking-cane (super lightweight thin alloy rifle inside, great for picking off fleeing targets).

The son of the guy keeps looking our way, and I sigh. If he keeps looking I'm going to have to kill him. He's already got too good a picture of my face already. I jerk a thumb in the boy's direction, hopefully Phant picks up on it. Else he's stupid. We're silent for a few seconds, looking ridiculous crouched behind a plant.
"So how do you wanna do this, junior?"

King's bored. Let's do something.

words: 905

it's silly no, when a rocket ship explodes
and everybody still wants to fly?
but some say a man ain't happy
unless a man truly dies, oh, why?