Post by Grimm on Apr 28, 2006 15:37:15 GMT -5
“I know you wouldn’t have gotten yourself in this predicament in the first place. And I’m assuming you wouldn’t have approved of the choices I’ve made. No one in their right mind would take this road less traveled. But what’s done is done and I have to live with it. You, on the other hand, don’t have to live with anything.”
Phinehas Grimm stands in front of a picture window that reaches from hardwood floor to tin ceiling. Hands clasped behind his back, he looks out over the Bath, North Carolina waterfront at twilight. Street lamps line the boardwalk, lighting the way for locals and the increasing number of tourists already beginning to trickle in. Piers jut out into the water with numerous fishing, sailing, and house boats bobbing gently in Pamlico Sound. Lights emanate from the storefronts that remain open, filling in the gaps where the lanterns fail to reach. An “old time fudge shoppe”, art gallery, and used bookstore beckon a few more customers before closing time. A light breeze carrying the smell of the ocean blows in from the east and makes its way through an open window three stories up. A grin unfurls across Grimm’s face as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. The smile would be unsettling for most, but no one is around to witness the dark flicker of the Abomination of Desolation’s pale blue eyes.
“I apologize for falling short of the goals you had set for me. If I wasn’t as ambitious as I should have been…well, consider it a character flaw. Nobody’s perfect. But I feel I’ve done well for myself. I’m standing here now, ain’t I? Besides…under the present circumstances, I don’t think you’re in any position to cast dispersions on my situation. Do you?”
No answer, but Grimm doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, you might go as far as to say he wasn’t even expecting a reply. He continues looking out over the oldest town in the Tar Heel state. With the conversation at a lull, albeit a one-sided one thus far, the fact that Phinehas Grimm is decked out in a rather dapper-looking suit really stands out. After all, Grimm never wears suits. That isn’t the case tonight. Dressed in an all black ensemble, including a jacket that almost reaches his knees, his deep red tie jumps out from the otherwise absence of color. The tie is almost the same shade as the walls. Walls covered in paintings of maritime disasters and massive warships. One wall lined with portraits of grim-looking men scowling at all who view them. Familiar walls with familiar pictures and a brawling daredevil who should seem out of place, and yet looks as if he belongs here more than any other. Still standing at the window. Still breathing in the salty air.
“The problem is that despite everything you think you have accomplished, you were lacking one thing. The one thing I have that has gotten me where I am today. The thing that brought me here to take your place. You just weren’t driven enough to preserve your standing in the organization. And so I’ve stepped in to replace you.”
“Maybe ‘driven’ isn’t the right word. Unbalanced…depraved…some may go as far as to label me twisted or warped. Whatever adjective you choose, it’s worked for me, and it’s hard to argue with success. You of all people should know that.”
Grimm remains focused on what lay beyond the confines of the room. Gazing down on a town that has no inkling of the decisions made in the upper reaches of a supposed antique store. Of the unholy alliances born, lives ruined, wrath unleashed on the unwary. Phinehas was to be the cause of that now. He would become the creak on the stairs, the shadow under the bed. Whether or not the direction changed remained to be seen. Either way, it would be his doing and no one else’s.
“You never would have made it in my world, either. These opponents of mine…fools, really…must be handled with extreme prejudice. I’ve broken their spirits. Taken away their dreams of gold and glory. Turned the ever-so-important fans against them. I have made them question the very reason they entered the business. Benjamin Banks shall fare no better than any of the others, for Trauma will be the site of the most excruciating loss of his unremarkable career. Much like yourself, in a way. The Brethren will be better off without you.”
Phinehas Grimm spins on his heels and walks across the room, his steps echoing off the floor. He passes by one end of a sprawling oaken table and pays no mind to the man slumped over in the head chair. Arms limp at his side, head turned facing the door. His eyes rolled back, lips partly askew. Grimm shuts the door softly behind him and descends the stairs, leaving his predecessor to the flies and rats.
Phinehas Grimm stands in front of a picture window that reaches from hardwood floor to tin ceiling. Hands clasped behind his back, he looks out over the Bath, North Carolina waterfront at twilight. Street lamps line the boardwalk, lighting the way for locals and the increasing number of tourists already beginning to trickle in. Piers jut out into the water with numerous fishing, sailing, and house boats bobbing gently in Pamlico Sound. Lights emanate from the storefronts that remain open, filling in the gaps where the lanterns fail to reach. An “old time fudge shoppe”, art gallery, and used bookstore beckon a few more customers before closing time. A light breeze carrying the smell of the ocean blows in from the east and makes its way through an open window three stories up. A grin unfurls across Grimm’s face as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. The smile would be unsettling for most, but no one is around to witness the dark flicker of the Abomination of Desolation’s pale blue eyes.
“I apologize for falling short of the goals you had set for me. If I wasn’t as ambitious as I should have been…well, consider it a character flaw. Nobody’s perfect. But I feel I’ve done well for myself. I’m standing here now, ain’t I? Besides…under the present circumstances, I don’t think you’re in any position to cast dispersions on my situation. Do you?”
No answer, but Grimm doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, you might go as far as to say he wasn’t even expecting a reply. He continues looking out over the oldest town in the Tar Heel state. With the conversation at a lull, albeit a one-sided one thus far, the fact that Phinehas Grimm is decked out in a rather dapper-looking suit really stands out. After all, Grimm never wears suits. That isn’t the case tonight. Dressed in an all black ensemble, including a jacket that almost reaches his knees, his deep red tie jumps out from the otherwise absence of color. The tie is almost the same shade as the walls. Walls covered in paintings of maritime disasters and massive warships. One wall lined with portraits of grim-looking men scowling at all who view them. Familiar walls with familiar pictures and a brawling daredevil who should seem out of place, and yet looks as if he belongs here more than any other. Still standing at the window. Still breathing in the salty air.
“The problem is that despite everything you think you have accomplished, you were lacking one thing. The one thing I have that has gotten me where I am today. The thing that brought me here to take your place. You just weren’t driven enough to preserve your standing in the organization. And so I’ve stepped in to replace you.”
“Maybe ‘driven’ isn’t the right word. Unbalanced…depraved…some may go as far as to label me twisted or warped. Whatever adjective you choose, it’s worked for me, and it’s hard to argue with success. You of all people should know that.”
Grimm remains focused on what lay beyond the confines of the room. Gazing down on a town that has no inkling of the decisions made in the upper reaches of a supposed antique store. Of the unholy alliances born, lives ruined, wrath unleashed on the unwary. Phinehas was to be the cause of that now. He would become the creak on the stairs, the shadow under the bed. Whether or not the direction changed remained to be seen. Either way, it would be his doing and no one else’s.
“You never would have made it in my world, either. These opponents of mine…fools, really…must be handled with extreme prejudice. I’ve broken their spirits. Taken away their dreams of gold and glory. Turned the ever-so-important fans against them. I have made them question the very reason they entered the business. Benjamin Banks shall fare no better than any of the others, for Trauma will be the site of the most excruciating loss of his unremarkable career. Much like yourself, in a way. The Brethren will be better off without you.”
Phinehas Grimm spins on his heels and walks across the room, his steps echoing off the floor. He passes by one end of a sprawling oaken table and pays no mind to the man slumped over in the head chair. Arms limp at his side, head turned facing the door. His eyes rolled back, lips partly askew. Grimm shuts the door softly behind him and descends the stairs, leaving his predecessor to the flies and rats.
