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Budapest, 2084
Of what dreams do we wait
Of what silent....
Oh, please. What a load of crap, I thought, shifting through the papers on the desk. I did not often enjoy rifling through my victims things. I cared to know as little as possible about who they were as people...or monsters. I was given a name, sometimes a picture and a location. Sometimes, I was given a time. Like a shadow I would would appear, kill, and vanish into the folds of life whether it be day or night. Their curse is not my own. It makes me sigh to think that, to realize that 'they' have been dead and gone for centuries. Who is left from either Ordoghaz or The New World Coven? I do not know. I have not seen any evidence of their survival since the death of our Monarchs. One at my hand. Whatever knights that were left had either been hunted, exiled or killed in the ensuing wars of the Underworld. Rest their souls. After all I had done....seen, I took my leave of their world and ambled on in the torturous world, living too long to be happy and yet, too proud to take my own life. After all, there comes a time after countless centuries that life loses it's luster. There's only so much wonder in seeing the seasons change over and over again. I am the world's cynic. I am there. You just aren't likely to see me as I am a ghost whose memory is stuck in another time entirely. Unless, of course, it is time to swallow your last breath. Then I will ead you to the underworld.
Yes, I. I am now a man for hire when you need something...or rather, someone, taken care of. No questions. No honor. Not anymore. I am like any other animal. I feed, I fuck, I survive. I search through people's papers (paper? Who uses paper anymore?) when I am waiting for them to come to their high security homes so that I could kill them. I hear their footsteps before I hear the electronic lock open.
Welcome home. Those who are about to die, I salute you.
Of what dreams do we wait
Of what silent....
Oh, please. What a load of crap, I thought, shifting through the papers on the desk. I did not often enjoy rifling through my victims things. I cared to know as little as possible about who they were as people...or monsters. I was given a name, sometimes a picture and a location. Sometimes, I was given a time. Like a shadow I would would appear, kill, and vanish into the folds of life whether it be day or night. Their curse is not my own. It makes me sigh to think that, to realize that 'they' have been dead and gone for centuries. Who is left from either Ordoghaz or The New World Coven? I do not know. I have not seen any evidence of their survival since the death of our Monarchs. One at my hand. Whatever knights that were left had either been hunted, exiled or killed in the ensuing wars of the Underworld. Rest their souls. After all I had done....seen, I took my leave of their world and ambled on in the torturous world, living too long to be happy and yet, too proud to take my own life. After all, there comes a time after countless centuries that life loses it's luster. There's only so much wonder in seeing the seasons change over and over again. I am the world's cynic. I am there. You just aren't likely to see me as I am a ghost whose memory is stuck in another time entirely. Unless, of course, it is time to swallow your last breath. Then I will ead you to the underworld.
Yes, I. I am now a man for hire when you need something...or rather, someone, taken care of. No questions. No honor. Not anymore. I am like any other animal. I feed, I fuck, I survive. I search through people's papers (paper? Who uses paper anymore?) when I am waiting for them to come to their high security homes so that I could kill them. I hear their footsteps before I hear the electronic lock open.
Welcome home. Those who are about to die, I salute you.
