"Welcome to Mort". "Centze of the Univorse". "Have a pleanant slay".
Damaged signs proclaim the damaged nature of the world beyond them. The crowd moves like grey mud, the occasional debris of a yellow macintosh floating in the swirl of people. Black armour moves in and out of the gunk, sifting it for stragglers, inhumans, troublemakers. And me.
I move on.
My objective is not yet known to the masses. I try to avoid the green of the establishment, the grey of the investigators, the multicoloured swirls of the army and the dark, jet black of Darkness.
My form suits me well. A smart, clean cut suit envelops me. A red scarf covers my face, and black headware and handware completes the set. I wear dark glasses over the blank face underneath. I shiver underneath the outfit, feared and exilarated at my purpose. I will soon be there.
It is several hours of walking, strolling, running in the eternal rain before I see my destination. A black spire, towering into the clouds, chain lightening sparking from half-spire to half-spire, my target hidden by a mass of swirling grey. I stare upwards, the light catching the glasses, the crowd pushing its way around me, like water around a dam. My face ripples with pleasure, nervous energy filling me like some drug-induced rush. I reach for the device, tightening my grip on it. Soon. Oh so soon. I draw it half out of the pocket of my jacket, feeling its elegant contours, the living creature inside it squirming for release. I finger the catch... And am rammed from behind, a drooling monster begging for change. The device flips its way out from my grasp, the catch released by my immobile thumb and its own forward momentum. It spirals, the creature inside adjusting to the new movement.
I lunge for it, pushing others aside to clear the way, and land heavily. The lid creaks slightly as its captive senses its freedom. But the catch is still stuck. I grasp it with two fingers, and slam the lid down, secure the catch and thrust it back into my jacket. It cries out, squealing for release. I slide the button over the pocket into it's place, and finger it, thoughtfully.
The spire is taller than it first appeared. Its black smooth exterior, punctured only by small indents where one plate meets the next, is unscalable. Entrance is impossible. But there is one other way up. I slide my way into an alley, and discard the suit. The device I hold tightly, and wait. I don't have long.
He's a tall one, his blackness rippling in time with his aura, green and physical. Perfect for my purposes. I move swiftly now, covering 20 feet in less than a second. How they miss me I don't know. With one touch, I enter the blackness. As it absorbs me, I drop the device. A full half second before it hits the ground. An age to me.
The blackness is no longer in his control. The helm extends, swiftly covering his face. The right hand moves downwards, grasping the falling object. Then tucking it away inside itself, the black moves forward, forcing its captive to do the same. A flash of his card, and we are in.
We move in perfect harmony, swiftly covering the black marble hallway and towards the lifts. A touch, and we enter. The doors close, and we begin to move. Now comes the difficult part. A twitch, and the blackness, closes, crushing its occupant like so much jelly. I leave the blackness, and as it crumples to the floor, the lift stops. I scoop up the device. By the book now. Reach up, the camera lens cracks. Further up, and open the top hatch. Up, through, climb the second wire, it passing through me like the ghost I am. Doorway, slide through it, in the passage, up into the system.
What was it he said? 'Every Building Has Electricity, A Nervous System Of Power. Your Target Has A Real Nervous System, Just Waiting To Be Exploited." I flash through it, passing room after room. Upwards, inwards, inside.
I make no noise as I land, yet the black chair still turns to face me. Two eyes stare and a hundred mouths hiss. The device springs open, to reveal the creature inside. Springing outwards, extending to its full size. The mouths scream, and black light springs from His outstretched hand. The creature, designed for the onslaught, resists for a second. I reach for the book, resting on the table. The creature dissolves, and He turns his gaze on me. I clutch the book close to me, and vanish.
Quickly, racing through the tower, up to the spire, as the lightning strikes and I'm carried into the clouds. Away, running free, my task complete.
My master will have his prize.
"No-One Is Beyond Our Reach."