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Description
World Of None story written by Sycopomp

The door closed behind Price's guest, two guards left in the hall. Safety measures, Check's orders. At least Price was usually accommodating of those. Still, there was no reason yet to suspect this particular donor of having ulterior motives. That didn't mean Check wasn't cautious; it was his job to be untrusting.

Price opened his arms, a grand gesture indicating the massive stadium visible through the long window behind him. They had an impressive view from the top, looking down on the field and the bleachers, directly across from a massive screen that gave afforded them a zoomed-in view when everything was a little too distant. A commentator's view-- the announcer's booth. Price was good at making an impression, bombastic and flashy, and that in turn was good for getting rich bastards to open their wallets. Price wasn't strapped for cash, but more never hurt.

Ultimately, Check didn't listen to the business end of matters. He heard it, filed it away, but his focus was on the guest; body language, posture, tension, movements, signs. Proximity wasn't cause enough for alarm, as Price was always reminding him-- of course he had to get close to these chumps-- but that didn't make Check like it any more. And this gentleman was a little too forward for his tastes, approaching Price openly, no regard for Check's presence posted by the door.
Eyes lidding somewhat, gaze going distant, he let the sounds drown out briefly, the colours bleed away, the present fall behind; a peek, a glimpse, into the future. Gander.

Shadows, flickering, guest, Price, knife, blood.

Wrenching himself out of the foresight, Check pinned a look on the stranger-- already reaching for his coat, Price's attention turning toward the window. Too late to reach them. Too late to warn him.

He could do two more. The guards would have to handle the two out in the hall; pushing it to three would exhaust him for days.

Swap.

A shiver of motion, like a television screen jittering and glitching, and Check was exactly where he had been looking; where Price had been standing. Whipping his head around, fixing a narrow glare on the assailant-- Medusa-- he felt a paralysis flush through his own body as eye contact froze his target in place. Frozen, with the knife in hand.
Despite his surprise at being suddenly across the room, Price recovered quickly. It wasn't the first time Check had had to save him in this manner, after all, though it had been a while. And he really hadn't expected to need it with this client. Glancing at the door, recalling the two guards his guest had brought, Price reached out to click the door locked. There we go.

Clicking his tongue, he strolled slowly back across the room. So this guy was going to kill him? Or hold him hostage? Blackmail him? Threaten him?? Any number of things! Such dastardly things. "Was this for me?" Price asked, plucking the knife out of the paralyzed man's quivering hand. He must be fighting the Medusa effect quite valiantly, but Price and Check both knew he wouldn't be moving until Check allowed it. Though, neither would Check, but that was okay. He'd done his part. "Then let me show you what I have for people," Price cooed, "That bring me such awful gifts." The safety clicked off of his gun, and he spread his lips into a wide grin.

It was Check's job to protect him.

But Price usually reserved this part for himself.

Mature Content

Mature Content

Description
World Of None story written by Sycopomp

The door closed behind Price's guest, two guards left in the hall. Safety measures, Check's orders. At least Price was usually accommodating of those. Still, there was no reason yet to suspect this particular donor of having ulterior motives. That didn't mean Check wasn't cautious; it was his job to be untrusting.

Price opened his arms, a grand gesture indicating the massive stadium visible through the long window behind him. They had an impressive view from the top, looking down on the field and the bleachers, directly across from a massive screen that gave afforded them a zoomed-in view when everything was a little too distant. A commentator's view-- the announcer's booth. Price was good at making an impression, bombastic and flashy, and that in turn was good for getting rich bastards to open their wallets. Price wasn't strapped for cash, but more never hurt.

Ultimately, Check didn't listen to the business end of matters. He heard it, filed it away, but his focus was on the guest; body language, posture, tension, movements, signs. Proximity wasn't cause enough for alarm, as Price was always reminding him-- of course he had to get close to these chumps-- but that didn't make Check like it any more. And this gentleman was a little too forward for his tastes, approaching Price openly, no regard for Check's presence posted by the door.
Eyes lidding somewhat, gaze going distant, he let the sounds drown out briefly, the colours bleed away, the present fall behind; a peek, a glimpse, into the future. Gander.

Shadows, flickering, guest, Price, knife, blood.

Wrenching himself out of the foresight, Check pinned a look on the stranger-- already reaching for his coat, Price's attention turning toward the window. Too late to reach them. Too late to warn him.

He could do two more. The guards would have to handle the two out in the hall; pushing it to three would exhaust him for days.

Swap.

A shiver of motion, like a television screen jittering and glitching, and Check was exactly where he had been looking; where Price had been standing. Whipping his head around, fixing a narrow glare on the assailant-- Medusa-- he felt a paralysis flush through his own body as eye contact froze his target in place. Frozen, with the knife in hand.
Despite his surprise at being suddenly across the room, Price recovered quickly. It wasn't the first time Check had had to save him in this manner, after all, though it had been a while. And he really hadn't expected to need it with this client. Glancing at the door, recalling the two guards his guest had brought, Price reached out to click the door locked. There we go.

Clicking his tongue, he strolled slowly back across the room. So this guy was going to kill him? Or hold him hostage? Blackmail him? Threaten him?? Any number of things! Such dastardly things. "Was this for me?" Price asked, plucking the knife out of the paralyzed man's quivering hand. He must be fighting the Medusa effect quite valiantly, but Price and Check both knew he wouldn't be moving until Check allowed it. Though, neither would Check, but that was okay. He'd done his part. "Then let me show you what I have for people," Price cooed, "That bring me such awful gifts." The safety clicked off of his gun, and he spread his lips into a wide grin.

It was Check's job to protect him.

But Price usually reserved this part for himself.

Mature Content

Mature Content