Post by Arsen Goodstone on Aug 13, 2018 20:46:45 GMT -5
"I don't understand why you think silence is an option here, mate."
Arsen Goodstone stood facing a large industrial sink, rinsing his hands off in cloudy water straight out of the faucet. If he were a man to smile whimsically, he would have done it then while he pondered the futility of washing his hands when the dirty work was far from done. But Arsen Goodstone was not one for smiling as a rule. When your entire life is a business, there's scarcely any time for fun. After shaking off into the sink, steady hands turned the four pronged hot and cold nozzles slowly, the water slowing it's stream until it flickered into nothing.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
But there was no water coming out of the faucet anymore. The sound puzzled Goodstone for a moment, as he surveyed his surroundings. Yes, the basement was damp and dimly lit, but there was no other active water source besides the pipe running across the ceiling, through the sink, and into the floor. All that was dry. "I hear something dripping, my friend...do we have ourselves a leak, do you think?" He turned around to face his company, and held his hands wide with exaggeration. "Ah, there we are. It's you, you fucking cunt. Bleeding all over the floor, and not telling me a god damned thing."
A body hung from the ceiling from a ring, suspended by his wrists by a steel hook and bound with heavy rope about the hands and feet. Blood poured freely from his head, trickling down his bare chest and striking the floor in an ominous pattern.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
"Now what I want to know, my old friend..." Goodstone addressed his quarry as he dragged a metal chair across the floor towards him, letting it scrape loudly against the cement floor before slamming it down in front of the bound man. "...is why you didn't follow...SIMPLE...FUCKING...INSTRUCTIONS." Arsen knelt slightly, looking into the man's swollen, bloody, and bruised eyes with no response. With a dramatic sigh, Goodstone cocked his fist back for another punch...
...but a stream of spit and blood launched towards him the beaten man, striking him directly in the eyes.
There was no explosion of anger, no expression of discontent, not even a sigh. But the hand ready to strike paused just a few moments before delivering another crushing blow directly into the bridge of the man's nose. A little more blood spatter wouldn't matter at all, which was good because it exploded in a speckled pattern over the apron Goodstone wore. "I can do this all day, mate. And I have a spare change of clothes for the whole...afterward bit, when I walk out of here and continue living my glorious life, right after I end your pitiful one. The more you fuck off, my friend, the longer I'll be punching all of your fluids out of your body."
The bound man coughed, this time opting to spit blood out on the floor. "I...I don't know what else to tell you, Mr. Goodstone." The name rolled off the bound man's tongue like poison, dripping with contempt. "I followed your instructions, but I lost the fight. I actually hurt him, but I'm the only one you punished...I don't understand your logic."
"MY FUCKING LOGIC!?" Goodstone backhanded his prisoner across the face, only feeling guilt for losing his cool if not for just a second. "My thoughts and strategies are none of your--"
"Once I sleep this one off, I'm coming for you, Goodstone." The bound man said with a harsh, barking laugh. "You can't kill me. He made me so I'm stronger than you...I will kill you, Goodstone. Mark my wo--" This time an elbow flashed up, and cracked the bound man square in the teeth. With a groan and a spat of blood, teeth clattered over the concrete.
"See, that's where i wanted you to go! I sent you on a job, right, to give me a little one-up on this Mr. Pure character, but I was really sending lambs to the slaughter. I was watching the whole fuckin' thing, you no-neck piece of shit, I was gauging how strong he was. It's no mystery that he has some aces up his sleeve...I have my own ace. Trust me, mate, I know who gave you you powers. I was supposed to be the first. When did he talk to you?" The question was only answered by silence, so Goodstone did the only reasonable thing. Once, twice, three times...driving his fist into his former employees kidneys. After the third shot, he seemed to be rabid, and pulled the man's head back by his hair, staring down into his eyes. "Tell me, or I'll stop giving you love taps." Another blow across the jaw, as far from a love top as you can get, left the man unconcious.
Arsen turned away once more, shaking the throbbing pain out of his lucky punching hand. How indeed did one of his henchman gain the power to stand up to Mr. Pure? In their only outing, it had taken everything he could throw at Pure just to end up with an embarassing and wallet shrinking loss. There was little room in the mercenary bussiness for error, and he had made plenty lately; not something that a prestigous problem solver could afford to have on his permenant record.
That was the moment that Goodstone's eyes fell on the hammer laying in the corner, dusty and forgotten from a past project. It was only a framing hammer, but it called to him just the same, and before he knew he was even moving Arsen had it grasped firmly in his right hand. Whirling around with purpose, Goodstone prepared to swing..
Stop.
The voice echoed from all around him, and actually made him stop just by the forceful nature of it. It then came back in a whisper, out of nowhere but everywhere at once. "I gave the fool power, yes. But he was just a pawn. I had to see if he'd use his real power on Earth...Mr PURE, that is. And it yielded an answer."
Goodstone pondered the voice, feeling as though he was as in a dream, but before he could respond it continued. "No, I am not here. No, you cannot hurt me...but yes, you can make the best out of this situation. You are the only one who has stood strong against my long time adversary, even without the powers we possess endowed upon you. What your lackey experienced was only a taste of what I can offer you...and with this gift, you will master it much quicker."
Goodstone felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and a strange sensation roll over his entire body. It felt as though his skin had turned to stone, and his hands were teeming with power. With one squeeze, the hammer's hilt broke cleanly, the metal scraping against his skin but leaving no cut.
"You know what you must do now. The money will be in your account AFTER your victory."
Arsen Goodstone turned towards his prey, clasping a newly empowered hand over his throat...and squeezing...
Arsen Goodstone stood facing a large industrial sink, rinsing his hands off in cloudy water straight out of the faucet. If he were a man to smile whimsically, he would have done it then while he pondered the futility of washing his hands when the dirty work was far from done. But Arsen Goodstone was not one for smiling as a rule. When your entire life is a business, there's scarcely any time for fun. After shaking off into the sink, steady hands turned the four pronged hot and cold nozzles slowly, the water slowing it's stream until it flickered into nothing.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
But there was no water coming out of the faucet anymore. The sound puzzled Goodstone for a moment, as he surveyed his surroundings. Yes, the basement was damp and dimly lit, but there was no other active water source besides the pipe running across the ceiling, through the sink, and into the floor. All that was dry. "I hear something dripping, my friend...do we have ourselves a leak, do you think?" He turned around to face his company, and held his hands wide with exaggeration. "Ah, there we are. It's you, you fucking cunt. Bleeding all over the floor, and not telling me a god damned thing."
A body hung from the ceiling from a ring, suspended by his wrists by a steel hook and bound with heavy rope about the hands and feet. Blood poured freely from his head, trickling down his bare chest and striking the floor in an ominous pattern.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
"Now what I want to know, my old friend..." Goodstone addressed his quarry as he dragged a metal chair across the floor towards him, letting it scrape loudly against the cement floor before slamming it down in front of the bound man. "...is why you didn't follow...SIMPLE...FUCKING...INSTRUCTIONS." Arsen knelt slightly, looking into the man's swollen, bloody, and bruised eyes with no response. With a dramatic sigh, Goodstone cocked his fist back for another punch...
...but a stream of spit and blood launched towards him the beaten man, striking him directly in the eyes.
There was no explosion of anger, no expression of discontent, not even a sigh. But the hand ready to strike paused just a few moments before delivering another crushing blow directly into the bridge of the man's nose. A little more blood spatter wouldn't matter at all, which was good because it exploded in a speckled pattern over the apron Goodstone wore. "I can do this all day, mate. And I have a spare change of clothes for the whole...afterward bit, when I walk out of here and continue living my glorious life, right after I end your pitiful one. The more you fuck off, my friend, the longer I'll be punching all of your fluids out of your body."
The bound man coughed, this time opting to spit blood out on the floor. "I...I don't know what else to tell you, Mr. Goodstone." The name rolled off the bound man's tongue like poison, dripping with contempt. "I followed your instructions, but I lost the fight. I actually hurt him, but I'm the only one you punished...I don't understand your logic."
"MY FUCKING LOGIC!?" Goodstone backhanded his prisoner across the face, only feeling guilt for losing his cool if not for just a second. "My thoughts and strategies are none of your--"
"Once I sleep this one off, I'm coming for you, Goodstone." The bound man said with a harsh, barking laugh. "You can't kill me. He made me so I'm stronger than you...I will kill you, Goodstone. Mark my wo--" This time an elbow flashed up, and cracked the bound man square in the teeth. With a groan and a spat of blood, teeth clattered over the concrete.
"See, that's where i wanted you to go! I sent you on a job, right, to give me a little one-up on this Mr. Pure character, but I was really sending lambs to the slaughter. I was watching the whole fuckin' thing, you no-neck piece of shit, I was gauging how strong he was. It's no mystery that he has some aces up his sleeve...I have my own ace. Trust me, mate, I know who gave you you powers. I was supposed to be the first. When did he talk to you?" The question was only answered by silence, so Goodstone did the only reasonable thing. Once, twice, three times...driving his fist into his former employees kidneys. After the third shot, he seemed to be rabid, and pulled the man's head back by his hair, staring down into his eyes. "Tell me, or I'll stop giving you love taps." Another blow across the jaw, as far from a love top as you can get, left the man unconcious.
Arsen turned away once more, shaking the throbbing pain out of his lucky punching hand. How indeed did one of his henchman gain the power to stand up to Mr. Pure? In their only outing, it had taken everything he could throw at Pure just to end up with an embarassing and wallet shrinking loss. There was little room in the mercenary bussiness for error, and he had made plenty lately; not something that a prestigous problem solver could afford to have on his permenant record.
That was the moment that Goodstone's eyes fell on the hammer laying in the corner, dusty and forgotten from a past project. It was only a framing hammer, but it called to him just the same, and before he knew he was even moving Arsen had it grasped firmly in his right hand. Whirling around with purpose, Goodstone prepared to swing..
Stop.
The voice echoed from all around him, and actually made him stop just by the forceful nature of it. It then came back in a whisper, out of nowhere but everywhere at once. "I gave the fool power, yes. But he was just a pawn. I had to see if he'd use his real power on Earth...Mr PURE, that is. And it yielded an answer."
Goodstone pondered the voice, feeling as though he was as in a dream, but before he could respond it continued. "No, I am not here. No, you cannot hurt me...but yes, you can make the best out of this situation. You are the only one who has stood strong against my long time adversary, even without the powers we possess endowed upon you. What your lackey experienced was only a taste of what I can offer you...and with this gift, you will master it much quicker."
Goodstone felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and a strange sensation roll over his entire body. It felt as though his skin had turned to stone, and his hands were teeming with power. With one squeeze, the hammer's hilt broke cleanly, the metal scraping against his skin but leaving no cut.
"You know what you must do now. The money will be in your account AFTER your victory."
Arsen Goodstone turned towards his prey, clasping a newly empowered hand over his throat...and squeezing...