prompting part XXIII
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Prompts from this post can be filled on the Overflow Post
IMPORTANT! Spoilers for aired episodes are now being allowed on this area of the meme, without warning. If you do not want to encounter spoilers, please prompt at our Spoiler-Free Prompt Post.
( Read more... )
Upon confirming that what it said on the door matched what it said on the screen of his mobile, he marched up to the door and knocked three times. It didn't creak as it opened.
"What do you want?" The speaker was a man of average appearance, his only distinguishing feature being a scar like a bolt of lightning down his left cheek. He stared blankly at Sebastian.
Sebastian stared back nonchalantly, calling to mind the code that he'd been given to say. "If the clock strikes thirteen, then count your strikes." It was terribly cheesy, the sort of thing expected from a bad spy movie.
The blank stare of the doorkeeper brightened into a smile. "And make sure they're the same number," he answered. "You'd be the applicant, then? Come in. We've been expecting you."
Sebastian nodded, entering the building which, outwardly, was nothing more than a block of flats. Inwardly, it appeared to be an ordinary house, built for a family and comfortably lived-in. It wasn't what Sebastian had been expecting, but he concealed his surprise from the doorkeeper, who was leading him up a steep flight of stairs.
Their destination appeared to be a sliding door at the end of the passage at the top of the stairs. The doorkeeper knocked gently. "Applicant for the vacant post, Professor."
"Come in." The voice that spoke - presumably the Professor's - bounced in pitch, never staying constant. Sebastian wondered if that said anything about this person's personality. It probably did.
Wonderful, he thought. I'm going to be working for a madman. Shouldn't be too different from Iraq.
The room behind the sliding door was dim, the only illumination coming from the computer screens set in a semicircle facing away from the door. The far wall was covered by an enormous whiteboard, which was itself covered by incomprehensible scribblings in various different colours of marker. There was a swivel chair set between the whiteboard and the computers, and perched on the chair was a man, small and almost delicate in stature. He was muttering to himself, his dark eyes out of focus and his hands locked together around the back of the chair. When he heard the two others enter the room, he looked up, sliding back into reality from whatever world was in his head. "Ah," he said, smiling. "Yes, of course. You may go, Spear."
The doorkeeper, whose name was presumably Spear, nodded once and departed, sliding the door closed behind him.
"Sebastian Moran, I presume?" The Professor's smile was a little eerie.
"Yes, sir," Sebastian answered. "And you'd be the Professor."
The Professor acknowledged this name with a faint nod. "That's me. Gosh, you're polite. Must be a remnant of that military discipline."
Sebastian inclined his head, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Though he had no way of knowing it at the time, that expression would serve him well in the months and years to come.
"And you're here about the post..." the Professor mused, his fingers flexing and tapping against the back of the chair. "Well, tell me what led you to my door, and I'll tell you specifically what the post involves." He rested his chin on top of the back of the chair, his smile widening into a grin. "Go on. Don't be shy."
Sebastian cleared his throat and began to recite his tale of being discharged home, sinking into a haze of boredom, meeting Pip in the pub, and learning about the job. When he had finished, he met the Professor's eyes firmly, determined not to pretend subservience.
The Professor returned his gaze in equal measure, his wide grin widening further and his eyes drifting slightly out of focus. "Fascinating," he murmured. "Very fascinating indeed. You're a sniper, you said?"
Sebastian nodded. "Yes, Professor."
The Professor waved a hand. "Call me Moriarty. You will be working directly for me, after all."
"Yessir." He'd been hired?
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"Sir." Sebastian nodded again, turned on his heel, and departed, the boredom which had still been hovering over him dissapating entirely. He had work, and apparently a place to stay. His new boss was crazy, but that wasn't anything new.
He grinned. Finally, things were getting interesting.
---
After his new employee had left, Jim spun around in his swivel chair to face the whiteboard-covered wall, his brow furrowing in concentration and his gaze unfocussing, seeing the colourful scribbles before him but not registering them.
So, he had a test-subject for his latest plan. That was good - he wouldn't have to use one of his current minions and risk losing them. Training new minions was such a bother.
Jim smiled, baring his teeth. He'd been looking forward to this game for weeks, and now he could finally put it into motion.
---
[Character limits make me angry. >-> Also apologies for any and all inconsistencies-I'm writing this on my phone, which has a small screen so I can't see what I've written.]
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(this ulteron, Mycroft? Is an ulteron a pokémon? And what about it? You're being especially cryptic today.)
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Thia is wonderful and very very intriguing and I just can't wait for more!
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Thank you! Such nice comments make me grin like a fool. :D
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