Old Writing
I wrote this quite a while ago for a writing group I was a part of at the time. The challenge was to write a piece without any dialogue. I still feel like I sort of cheated, since writing in first person feels like dialogue to me, but whatever. The main reason I'm posting it here is because I keep worrying that I'm going to lose it, and I'm also considering using this world as the basis of a new project.
This hasn't been edited at all from when it was first posted, so it could probably use some polish, but whatever. Enjoy.
From the very beginning, it was a bad idea. Too many things could go wrong, too many variables unaccounted for. I wish I could say the reward was worth it, but that would be one more lie. Not that it mattered; I walked right into it anyway. I knew what my chances were, I knew how little I would be risking for, and I still did it. Maybe I was bored. Maybe I wanted the thrill. Maybe I needed the distraction. Whatever it was, I did it. I took the job.
Oh yeah, I’m a spy. Among other things. For the past year and a half I’d been spending my days in a Darks training facility. As a janitor. Hey, it’s one of the best ways to get into a place. Dust gathers even under highest security, and you’d be an idiot if you thought the Darks were going to clean it themselves. Since they did all their training at night, I was pretty much by myself during the sunlight hours. So I’d clean - if nothing else, I do the job I’m paid for - and then workout on their equipment. There were cameras and systems all over the place, but you’d be surprised how much they let janitors get away with, as long as we keep the place tidy. Besides, how dangerous is it for someone to do a little workout?
In my case? Deadly. But they didn’t know that.
It was during a run out the outdoor course that I was approached. I still don’t know how they found me, or why they bothered to put in the effort. A big part of my line of work is knowing when not to ask questions.
The ambassador was a man called Charlie. His real name? Hell if I know. I was impressed by their choice. Someone had gone to a lot of effort to find out about me: Charlie was just my type. Tall, muscled but not obscenely so; just the definition that comes from long hours of physical labor. Hair less than an inch in length, stubbled face, deep brown eyes. Granted, in description it doesn’t sound all that impressive. But he had that . . . presence. That aura that got to me every time. Confidence bordering on arrogance, intelligence bordering on condescending. What can I say, I’m a sucker for the whole ‘bad boy’ image.
What’s the saying? Don’t mix business with pleasure? Well, I never claimed to be smart.
Oh. And an accent. English. Not that ringing high brow crap, but a smooth, lazy lengthening of the vowels. Hit me right between the legs. I can’t tell you how disappointed I was to find out it was about a job.
Information, he said. Well. People are always looking for information, even about the Darks. And sure, I was in a position to get it. If that were it, I would have laughed in his face. No money is worth tempting the anger of the Darks. If only that had been it.
But there was more. Of course. Some fallen Dark wanted revenge. Wanted to break the order that had broken him. Still wouldn’t have been enough to interest me.
But then . . . then the Darks would be rebuilt. Into their ‘former glory’. Back to the Shadow. Sure, I was interested. Anyone would be. Even if they didn’t have my history with the Shadow. If I hadn’t been working under the Dark for so long, if I hadn’t been itching for something to do, if it hadn’t been this man asking me.
If.
Well, the money wasn’t bad. And I was assured the Fallen wouldn’t forget my kindness. To get back into that family, was it worth it?
I said yes. Of course I did. What else could I do.
So I started spending time with Charlie. A lot of time. Even if I didn’t admit it then, I’ll admit it now: there was definitely pleasure to be had during that business. He was a marvelously sexy man. Long, tapered fingers; smooth skin, taunt stomach; soft lips; strong, talented tongue. We both knew it for what it was. A good time, a release of stress while we worked on a plan to tear apart the Darks.
Better to think with a clear head, right?
Actually we worked well together. Having worked for the Darks, I was able to map every hallway, every room, every guard and every station. Once we had the map of the training buildings, the real work began.
While I knew the layout, Charlie knew the politics of the Darks inside and out. Our plan was relatively simple: I’d get him into the building, direct him to the necessary offices, and he’d plant some information that would be found shortly after. Information on a coup in process. So, when the Fallen made his move, the Darks would be too busy trying to fix their own problems to deal with him. It was a neat plan, if somewhat prosaic. I admit I had doubts. The Shadow would never have fallen for something so simplistic. But this wasn’t my plan, the only thing I had to worry about was getting Charlie inside. If it fell apart when the Fallen appeared, not my problem.
Well. That’s what I thought anyway.
Charlie, on the other hand, was relatively confident. Apparently the Darks had been going through leadership changes, so things were already in turmoil. As to how he knew anything about the leadership of the Darks, I couldn’t say. I never asked him, either. Some things, I’d rather not know.
It was about a month after Charlie approached me for the first time, when I finally brought him with me to the Darks’ complex. I should have thought harder on it when the guard barely argued. Even in the most relaxed setting, I doubt janitor’s are permitted to bring guests with them when they go to work. But Charlie just pulled me to him with his arm around my waist, winked at the guard, and we were waved inside.
I made Charlie wait until I finished my cleaning. Always finish the job you’re paid for.
I did wonder that he didn’t push me on that, since it cut awfully close into the beginning of the Darks’ training. I’d let him get to know me too well, though. Before I thought to question him on it, that bastard distracted me. Even more obvious then, that he wasn’t worried about time constraints. But I was hardly watching the clock at that point.
It was past the point I’d normally start my workout, but the guards were likely just getting over the show Charlie and I had put on so it wouldn’t have crossed their minds. It probably helped us, that show, when we doubled back to the offices. Likely they thought we were just looking for a new surface. We encouraged that, of course. When he ducked to plant his evidence, I sat atop the desk so his head was hidden between my legs. He could have been going for realism, brushing against me. Whatever the reason, my groans were real enough.
We were leaving just as the first of the instructors began to filter in. They wouldn’t have noticed me, of course; a janitor is beneath the gaze of a Dark. Charlie, on the other hand, drew a few looks. But rather than ducking beneath them, which would have drawn further attention, he somehow managed to pull his presence inward. For the 10 minutes from the offices to the parking lot, Charlie appeared to be completely harmless. Just a face in the crowd, average and forgettable. Never before or since have I seen such a performance.
I had expected to be done with the job after that. And indeed, I was paid. But, much to my surprise, Charlie stayed. Spending more and more time in my house, in my bed. I’d thought to stop working then, get myself out of the line of fire, but Charlie had me stay. So he would be able to tell the Fallen when things were ready. We fell into a routine, the two of us. I went to work during the day, leaving him behind in my house, and then returned a few hours before sunset. We’d eat - Charlie was actually a fairly good cook - talking absently over the meal and evening news, and then fall into bed. Eventually I had to stop my workouts on the Darks’ equipment, saving myself for our evening romps.
And while we grew more comfortable around each other, there were very set limits between us. We never talked about our past, or the job that had brought us together. Didn’t talk about anything outside of my house, other than to let him know what gossip I heard from the day guards. Even in bed, our walls were up. Keeping our faces turned away, thoughts to ourselves. As familiar as I grew with his body, I knew nothing else about him. It was safer that way. And comfortable, in a way. No feelings, no questions, no expectations.
I wonder if even he knew, how dangerous that was.
It was a good two weeks later, when I heard the gossip from the guards. There had been a fight between two of the upcoming leaders. A trial was pending. The chain of command was falling apart, time for the Fallen to make his move.
For his part, Charlie seemed uninterested. He just nodded, telling me he would contact the Fallen the next day while I was at work. I think we both knew it would be our last night together. So we made the most of it. I screamed myself hoarse, eyes shut tightly. Charlie was quiet, as always, but the few times I caught his gaze I saw that they were nearly on fire. Definitely a good note to go out on.
I brought an extra bag with me to work that day. If the Fallen would be attacking soon, I didn’t want to be around. It proved to be fortunate foresight. Shortly after I started on the offices, all the alarms sounded. I ducked into a side corridor and changed in the flashing emergency lights. Back into the hunting clothes of a Shadow. Smoke grey and black, loose pants and tunic, black mesh scarf wrapped around my face and over my hair. Sued gloves, leather moccasins. Even though it had been nearly a decade since I’d last worn my hunting gear, it fit perfectly. Finally, I felt comfortable in my own skin. I knew, even if the Fallen’s plan fell apart, I was a Shadow again.
The Darks burst forth from their underground barracks. That they were still early in their training was painfully obvious, as I wove through them without a second glance. They were communicating mostly with hand signs, but they weren’t practiced enough to avoid all sound. Only the occasional word, of course, but enough for me to learn they didn’t know what had happened. Inner sensors were giving conflicting signals. It seemed not even the number of Darks remained consistent.
The Fallen knew well what he was doing.
We were still a few feet from the common area when the ambush was set. The Darks fought fairly well, but they hadn’t been trained to fight their own. I should have been surprised that the Fallen had Darks on his side. I left the fight behind, wanting no more than to get outside. Granted, my hunting gear would be no help in the sunlight, but that didn’t matter. Take off the scarf and gloves, I was nothing more than a janitor running in fear.
Chances are I would have made it, if I hadn’t seen Charlie. Dressed in pure black, darker than the shadows around him, presence pulled again. Not to look harmless, but to make an opponent wonder what they might be facing. I shouldn’t have looked. I should have turned away and just kept going.
I followed him.
He passed by the battling Darks, past the offices, past the classrooms. He turned into a side corridor, pressing a pattern of bricks as he walked towards what appeared to be a dead-end. It appeared Charlie knew more about the Darks facilities than I gave him credit for. As he approached the dead-end, the wall slid back to reveal a stairway into the Darks’ barracks.
He moved quickly down the stairs, with me close behind. I wonder now if he’d heard me, or if he was truly unaware of his shadow. Whether he knew I was there, he continued down the stairs until they leveled out into a dark corridor. What he was looking for down there, I never found out, because it appeared not all of the Darks had gone upstairs in response to the alarms. Charlie was faced with a full hand of Darks. His fighting was impressive to see, turning his attackers’ strength against them with fluid grace. Catching sight of his faces, it was more than somewhat disturbing to see his features twisted into an expression identical to when we had been sleeping together.
While he was distracted, I slipped into a second corridor. Why I didn’t go back up the stairs, I couldn’t say. But now that I was in the barracks, I was drawn to explore them.
In truth, it looked little different from the Shadow’s barracks. Long rows of cots, weapons chests, desks with large texts on them. No identity. This was not a place of living, rather of sleeping and learning. It struck me then, it mattered not if this place was run by the Darks or the Shadows; it would always be a company of spies and death-bringers.
It was in the eating area that I finally met the Fallen. Well over six feet, deeply tanned and obviously muscled. Dressed also as a Shadow, a crimson marking of rank tattooed on the side of his neck. With years of deeply ingrained training, I bowed.
The Fallen only smiled.
In an instant it was obvious, how he had known me so well. How he had known to send Charlie, why he bothered include me in his plans to destroy the Darks. And, more important, why he cared to destroy the Darks at all.
Miguel, second of the Shadow, whom I myself had trained to perfection nearly two decades ago. How he had escaped the culling, how he managed to gain entrance to the Darks, how he kept his identity a secret for so long; questions I knew would remain unanswered.
It was short work after that, to dispatch of the Darks; Miguel had brought the other surviving Shadows with him A few were left alive, young enough to be trained as Shadows. The reins of power passed easily enough. Miguel took over as first of the Shadow, and I took my place as his second. Charlie, it seemed, had natural talent in that capacity, so stayed on as a trainer. We spoke only out of necessity after that. There are vows to which the Shadow must conform: chief among them, no consorting within the ranks.
So after a decade of freedom, I was back. My identity erased once more, trained once more to kill with little more than a gaze. I have felt my personality crumbling ever since, and soon I will be nothing more than a memory to myself. A ghost. A shadow in truth.
I should have asked for more money.
This hasn't been edited at all from when it was first posted, so it could probably use some polish, but whatever. Enjoy.
From the very beginning, it was a bad idea. Too many things could go wrong, too many variables unaccounted for. I wish I could say the reward was worth it, but that would be one more lie. Not that it mattered; I walked right into it anyway. I knew what my chances were, I knew how little I would be risking for, and I still did it. Maybe I was bored. Maybe I wanted the thrill. Maybe I needed the distraction. Whatever it was, I did it. I took the job.
Oh yeah, I’m a spy. Among other things. For the past year and a half I’d been spending my days in a Darks training facility. As a janitor. Hey, it’s one of the best ways to get into a place. Dust gathers even under highest security, and you’d be an idiot if you thought the Darks were going to clean it themselves. Since they did all their training at night, I was pretty much by myself during the sunlight hours. So I’d clean - if nothing else, I do the job I’m paid for - and then workout on their equipment. There were cameras and systems all over the place, but you’d be surprised how much they let janitors get away with, as long as we keep the place tidy. Besides, how dangerous is it for someone to do a little workout?
In my case? Deadly. But they didn’t know that.
It was during a run out the outdoor course that I was approached. I still don’t know how they found me, or why they bothered to put in the effort. A big part of my line of work is knowing when not to ask questions.
The ambassador was a man called Charlie. His real name? Hell if I know. I was impressed by their choice. Someone had gone to a lot of effort to find out about me: Charlie was just my type. Tall, muscled but not obscenely so; just the definition that comes from long hours of physical labor. Hair less than an inch in length, stubbled face, deep brown eyes. Granted, in description it doesn’t sound all that impressive. But he had that . . . presence. That aura that got to me every time. Confidence bordering on arrogance, intelligence bordering on condescending. What can I say, I’m a sucker for the whole ‘bad boy’ image.
What’s the saying? Don’t mix business with pleasure? Well, I never claimed to be smart.
Oh. And an accent. English. Not that ringing high brow crap, but a smooth, lazy lengthening of the vowels. Hit me right between the legs. I can’t tell you how disappointed I was to find out it was about a job.
Information, he said. Well. People are always looking for information, even about the Darks. And sure, I was in a position to get it. If that were it, I would have laughed in his face. No money is worth tempting the anger of the Darks. If only that had been it.
But there was more. Of course. Some fallen Dark wanted revenge. Wanted to break the order that had broken him. Still wouldn’t have been enough to interest me.
But then . . . then the Darks would be rebuilt. Into their ‘former glory’. Back to the Shadow. Sure, I was interested. Anyone would be. Even if they didn’t have my history with the Shadow. If I hadn’t been working under the Dark for so long, if I hadn’t been itching for something to do, if it hadn’t been this man asking me.
If.
Well, the money wasn’t bad. And I was assured the Fallen wouldn’t forget my kindness. To get back into that family, was it worth it?
I said yes. Of course I did. What else could I do.
So I started spending time with Charlie. A lot of time. Even if I didn’t admit it then, I’ll admit it now: there was definitely pleasure to be had during that business. He was a marvelously sexy man. Long, tapered fingers; smooth skin, taunt stomach; soft lips; strong, talented tongue. We both knew it for what it was. A good time, a release of stress while we worked on a plan to tear apart the Darks.
Better to think with a clear head, right?
Actually we worked well together. Having worked for the Darks, I was able to map every hallway, every room, every guard and every station. Once we had the map of the training buildings, the real work began.
While I knew the layout, Charlie knew the politics of the Darks inside and out. Our plan was relatively simple: I’d get him into the building, direct him to the necessary offices, and he’d plant some information that would be found shortly after. Information on a coup in process. So, when the Fallen made his move, the Darks would be too busy trying to fix their own problems to deal with him. It was a neat plan, if somewhat prosaic. I admit I had doubts. The Shadow would never have fallen for something so simplistic. But this wasn’t my plan, the only thing I had to worry about was getting Charlie inside. If it fell apart when the Fallen appeared, not my problem.
Well. That’s what I thought anyway.
Charlie, on the other hand, was relatively confident. Apparently the Darks had been going through leadership changes, so things were already in turmoil. As to how he knew anything about the leadership of the Darks, I couldn’t say. I never asked him, either. Some things, I’d rather not know.
It was about a month after Charlie approached me for the first time, when I finally brought him with me to the Darks’ complex. I should have thought harder on it when the guard barely argued. Even in the most relaxed setting, I doubt janitor’s are permitted to bring guests with them when they go to work. But Charlie just pulled me to him with his arm around my waist, winked at the guard, and we were waved inside.
I made Charlie wait until I finished my cleaning. Always finish the job you’re paid for.
I did wonder that he didn’t push me on that, since it cut awfully close into the beginning of the Darks’ training. I’d let him get to know me too well, though. Before I thought to question him on it, that bastard distracted me. Even more obvious then, that he wasn’t worried about time constraints. But I was hardly watching the clock at that point.
It was past the point I’d normally start my workout, but the guards were likely just getting over the show Charlie and I had put on so it wouldn’t have crossed their minds. It probably helped us, that show, when we doubled back to the offices. Likely they thought we were just looking for a new surface. We encouraged that, of course. When he ducked to plant his evidence, I sat atop the desk so his head was hidden between my legs. He could have been going for realism, brushing against me. Whatever the reason, my groans were real enough.
We were leaving just as the first of the instructors began to filter in. They wouldn’t have noticed me, of course; a janitor is beneath the gaze of a Dark. Charlie, on the other hand, drew a few looks. But rather than ducking beneath them, which would have drawn further attention, he somehow managed to pull his presence inward. For the 10 minutes from the offices to the parking lot, Charlie appeared to be completely harmless. Just a face in the crowd, average and forgettable. Never before or since have I seen such a performance.
I had expected to be done with the job after that. And indeed, I was paid. But, much to my surprise, Charlie stayed. Spending more and more time in my house, in my bed. I’d thought to stop working then, get myself out of the line of fire, but Charlie had me stay. So he would be able to tell the Fallen when things were ready. We fell into a routine, the two of us. I went to work during the day, leaving him behind in my house, and then returned a few hours before sunset. We’d eat - Charlie was actually a fairly good cook - talking absently over the meal and evening news, and then fall into bed. Eventually I had to stop my workouts on the Darks’ equipment, saving myself for our evening romps.
And while we grew more comfortable around each other, there were very set limits between us. We never talked about our past, or the job that had brought us together. Didn’t talk about anything outside of my house, other than to let him know what gossip I heard from the day guards. Even in bed, our walls were up. Keeping our faces turned away, thoughts to ourselves. As familiar as I grew with his body, I knew nothing else about him. It was safer that way. And comfortable, in a way. No feelings, no questions, no expectations.
I wonder if even he knew, how dangerous that was.
It was a good two weeks later, when I heard the gossip from the guards. There had been a fight between two of the upcoming leaders. A trial was pending. The chain of command was falling apart, time for the Fallen to make his move.
For his part, Charlie seemed uninterested. He just nodded, telling me he would contact the Fallen the next day while I was at work. I think we both knew it would be our last night together. So we made the most of it. I screamed myself hoarse, eyes shut tightly. Charlie was quiet, as always, but the few times I caught his gaze I saw that they were nearly on fire. Definitely a good note to go out on.
I brought an extra bag with me to work that day. If the Fallen would be attacking soon, I didn’t want to be around. It proved to be fortunate foresight. Shortly after I started on the offices, all the alarms sounded. I ducked into a side corridor and changed in the flashing emergency lights. Back into the hunting clothes of a Shadow. Smoke grey and black, loose pants and tunic, black mesh scarf wrapped around my face and over my hair. Sued gloves, leather moccasins. Even though it had been nearly a decade since I’d last worn my hunting gear, it fit perfectly. Finally, I felt comfortable in my own skin. I knew, even if the Fallen’s plan fell apart, I was a Shadow again.
The Darks burst forth from their underground barracks. That they were still early in their training was painfully obvious, as I wove through them without a second glance. They were communicating mostly with hand signs, but they weren’t practiced enough to avoid all sound. Only the occasional word, of course, but enough for me to learn they didn’t know what had happened. Inner sensors were giving conflicting signals. It seemed not even the number of Darks remained consistent.
The Fallen knew well what he was doing.
We were still a few feet from the common area when the ambush was set. The Darks fought fairly well, but they hadn’t been trained to fight their own. I should have been surprised that the Fallen had Darks on his side. I left the fight behind, wanting no more than to get outside. Granted, my hunting gear would be no help in the sunlight, but that didn’t matter. Take off the scarf and gloves, I was nothing more than a janitor running in fear.
Chances are I would have made it, if I hadn’t seen Charlie. Dressed in pure black, darker than the shadows around him, presence pulled again. Not to look harmless, but to make an opponent wonder what they might be facing. I shouldn’t have looked. I should have turned away and just kept going.
I followed him.
He passed by the battling Darks, past the offices, past the classrooms. He turned into a side corridor, pressing a pattern of bricks as he walked towards what appeared to be a dead-end. It appeared Charlie knew more about the Darks facilities than I gave him credit for. As he approached the dead-end, the wall slid back to reveal a stairway into the Darks’ barracks.
He moved quickly down the stairs, with me close behind. I wonder now if he’d heard me, or if he was truly unaware of his shadow. Whether he knew I was there, he continued down the stairs until they leveled out into a dark corridor. What he was looking for down there, I never found out, because it appeared not all of the Darks had gone upstairs in response to the alarms. Charlie was faced with a full hand of Darks. His fighting was impressive to see, turning his attackers’ strength against them with fluid grace. Catching sight of his faces, it was more than somewhat disturbing to see his features twisted into an expression identical to when we had been sleeping together.
While he was distracted, I slipped into a second corridor. Why I didn’t go back up the stairs, I couldn’t say. But now that I was in the barracks, I was drawn to explore them.
In truth, it looked little different from the Shadow’s barracks. Long rows of cots, weapons chests, desks with large texts on them. No identity. This was not a place of living, rather of sleeping and learning. It struck me then, it mattered not if this place was run by the Darks or the Shadows; it would always be a company of spies and death-bringers.
It was in the eating area that I finally met the Fallen. Well over six feet, deeply tanned and obviously muscled. Dressed also as a Shadow, a crimson marking of rank tattooed on the side of his neck. With years of deeply ingrained training, I bowed.
The Fallen only smiled.
In an instant it was obvious, how he had known me so well. How he had known to send Charlie, why he bothered include me in his plans to destroy the Darks. And, more important, why he cared to destroy the Darks at all.
Miguel, second of the Shadow, whom I myself had trained to perfection nearly two decades ago. How he had escaped the culling, how he managed to gain entrance to the Darks, how he kept his identity a secret for so long; questions I knew would remain unanswered.
It was short work after that, to dispatch of the Darks; Miguel had brought the other surviving Shadows with him A few were left alive, young enough to be trained as Shadows. The reins of power passed easily enough. Miguel took over as first of the Shadow, and I took my place as his second. Charlie, it seemed, had natural talent in that capacity, so stayed on as a trainer. We spoke only out of necessity after that. There are vows to which the Shadow must conform: chief among them, no consorting within the ranks.
So after a decade of freedom, I was back. My identity erased once more, trained once more to kill with little more than a gaze. I have felt my personality crumbling ever since, and soon I will be nothing more than a memory to myself. A ghost. A shadow in truth.
I should have asked for more money.