New York
[takes place immediately after this]
Orlando eyes the decaying brownstone with distaste. Crumbling brick, peeling paint, sidewalks gouged and uneven -- it's a far cry from Danny Masterson's usual haunts of days past, when his family had been able to afford the best money could buy.
"Oh, how the mighty have fallen," Orlando murmurs to himself.
He blends in with the night as he quickly picks the lock on the door and pushes it open, careful not to make a sound. Wouldn't do to alarm Mr. Masterson just yet. He prowls soundlessly, blending in the shadows, from room to empty room, devoid of even the simplest of furnishings. Danny's luck has definitely fallen from his heyday at Princeton.
Orlando tilts his head at the base of the stairs, listens. The soft sounds of the radio can be heard overhead and Orlando follows the sounds of the Amos & Andy Show, butcher knife pressed tight against his thigh in a gloved hand.
He pauses just inside the room, glances around, noting all windows and doors - any escape routes Danny could take -- before resting his gaze on the chair. Its back is to him, but Orlando can see Danny's blond hair, a once proud profile now going soft, and hears a raspy chuckle as Amos's tinny voice cracks another joke.
Orlando creeps up; and jerks hard on Danny's hair, knife pressing against a vulnerable, exposed throat. Danny opens his mouth to scream and Orlando slides the blade over and across, blood spraying out in a wild, crimson gush. Orlando stands for a moment, listens to the gurgles as Danny twitches, tries helplessly for a last breath before his lifeless body slumps to the side of the chair. Orlando smiles down into open, glazed eyes as he wipes the blade on Danny's blood-stained shirt.
"For Josh," he murmurs, and drops the knife on Danny's lap.
He turns and exits the house as silently as he'd entered it, the sounds of the radio following him back down the stairs. He waits until he's three blocks away before stuffing his gloves and black overcoat into a dumpster. He makes it to the station in plenty of time and sleeps soundly on the train back to Chicago.
For tonight, at least, the lust for revenge has been sated.
One more -- the most important one -- to go.
Orlando eyes the decaying brownstone with distaste. Crumbling brick, peeling paint, sidewalks gouged and uneven -- it's a far cry from Danny Masterson's usual haunts of days past, when his family had been able to afford the best money could buy.
"Oh, how the mighty have fallen," Orlando murmurs to himself.
He blends in with the night as he quickly picks the lock on the door and pushes it open, careful not to make a sound. Wouldn't do to alarm Mr. Masterson just yet. He prowls soundlessly, blending in the shadows, from room to empty room, devoid of even the simplest of furnishings. Danny's luck has definitely fallen from his heyday at Princeton.
Orlando tilts his head at the base of the stairs, listens. The soft sounds of the radio can be heard overhead and Orlando follows the sounds of the Amos & Andy Show, butcher knife pressed tight against his thigh in a gloved hand.
He pauses just inside the room, glances around, noting all windows and doors - any escape routes Danny could take -- before resting his gaze on the chair. Its back is to him, but Orlando can see Danny's blond hair, a once proud profile now going soft, and hears a raspy chuckle as Amos's tinny voice cracks another joke.
Orlando creeps up; and jerks hard on Danny's hair, knife pressing against a vulnerable, exposed throat. Danny opens his mouth to scream and Orlando slides the blade over and across, blood spraying out in a wild, crimson gush. Orlando stands for a moment, listens to the gurgles as Danny twitches, tries helplessly for a last breath before his lifeless body slumps to the side of the chair. Orlando smiles down into open, glazed eyes as he wipes the blade on Danny's blood-stained shirt.
"For Josh," he murmurs, and drops the knife on Danny's lap.
He turns and exits the house as silently as he'd entered it, the sounds of the radio following him back down the stairs. He waits until he's three blocks away before stuffing his gloves and black overcoat into a dumpster. He makes it to the station in plenty of time and sleeps soundly on the train back to Chicago.
For tonight, at least, the lust for revenge has been sated.
One more -- the most important one -- to go.