on the homestead
|The world seemed to line itself readying for the flames once again. He hadn't noticed. He hadn't cared long enough to pay attention. Time of the month spared him from preparing when he prepared every single day. He was Slade and Nathan but Slade with a conscience. A mercenary with bruised and healing fruit as a heart, encased with Kevlar and additional mortar that created a barrier between the openness of vulnerability and compromise. Standing at the window, thoughts raced as they did. Running simulations of a contract he recently landed. |
It was the first in a while that he wafted over, especially after making adjustments to a new chapter in his existence. Compromises moved pieces against the board. Compromises moved the stage from stagnation, to a new world that was not a consideration to explore. He was a stubborn man at heart. A calculating stubborn man and it showed if someone shoved without him budging. There had to be reason. Logical at its core and nothing that resumed on emotions where at times he seemed not to make noise of showing it. Sobering to surroundings he would spend more days in than actually visits, he continued to peer out a window that gave him a better view of the Jamaican Plain neighborhood.
He clocked info on neighbors, from running swift background checks through plundering in homes while vacant for the day. Photographic memory snapping away at the spread. Financials pilfered through easy retrieval and help by confidants with skills he wasn't particular with but knew they would pull through. He collected info, compiled them into dossiers in the event that someone had to go. Not for their noses being in the wrong place but because of any fire being bellowed in the direction of the woman he sort of found himself in a partnership with. It wasn't just any partnership, it was a connection, a solid link that was able to disintegrate the layers he mistakenly left at her mercy.
He wanted to protect the house. The people who called it home, including the kid he knew who viewed him in a way that would somehow take after some of his habits he wanted to shield her from. Slade stuck a spoon in his mouth to inhale the ice cream and ponder through the guiltless of pleasures as he singled out his intentions. Threats that were capable of shaking down the foundation and the remaining structure, would be taken out by any means. He could make someone disappear without trace. Ease them out of the world with a little finesse if there was an inkling of trespassing.
Since the night he officially packed his last box and transported to storage at the cabin, all he thought about was how he would resume his duties as a changed man disguised as a well conditioned degenerate, while making the hallmark of a relationship steer in a different direction. His minor roles were given to Nathan to steer but Slade put in the coordinates. He made the call and was the captain that was confident enough to keep the ship sailing, even through violent currents. The violent currents was all he had knowledge of. It molded his ability to rise as a young man into a fascinating specimen that killed for a living. While the old life was ever in his memory bank, the new one had delicacies he couldn't risk being taken advantage of. Not without meticulously plotting around it.
Keeping to himself that Wednesday evening, he remained neutral in most concerns when it came to sharing a city holding decedents of individuals of an old world from the universe he came from and the other that was nothing more than another mirrored reflection. The symbolism of chaos that propped up during the start of the week was calculating but not enough to stick his hand in the cookie jar. He was unmoved by it, granted he had a list of priorities to get through and a job to reason with while mapping out ways to carry on as if everything was business as usual. It was but it dug deeper the hatred to manifest for being stuck in the world to begin with. As much grooming was completed to ensure that his entire body of transport was in proper standing for his arrival, the permanent fusing was one more obstacle to call off resistance to. He spooned more ice cream into his mouth as the darkness was falling over like a strip of canvas being thrown over for cover.
He locked onto the figures passing by the house and moving about their destination. He wanted to follow, tail them to see where they were off to but in the back of his distant hearing, he knew the doors were being unlocked. Time and space convinced him that he was spared from being walked in on. Slade grumbled, even done so in annoyance at the cat that walked around his leg, to find his rightful spot after a leap upon the window sill. The cat with no name looked at him in a knowing way, that his owner was up to something. It was accurately where Helios stumbled upon Slade wondering what was his next moves. "You, out, now. Scram, cat." He uttered sternly under control vocals. He needed the space alone and with little time before the owner of the house decided to come looking for him with questions he had ways of escaping without selling half truths.
Helios hissed before taking the leap to leave the man be. He almost went through a container of ice cream in one sitting, mentally reminding himself to tackle another and this time to find a better spot to roost on to see the city fall into another cycle of burning down. One day, another time, same junction, he'll manage to writhe beneath the rubble to find what ever was a longing search. It wasn't the drop out of the bottom or the rub being pulled from under the feet, but an edgewise on settling a score that would limit feeling trapped in the circumstances no one bothered to ask or volunteer for.