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A Certain Magical Index- Arc 2 [Interlude]

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A Certain Magical Index- Arc 2 [Interlude] Empty A Certain Magical Index- Arc 2 [Interlude]

Post  Aleister Crowley on Thu Apr 11, 2013 3:04 am

July 2ist

00:00

The blonde man struggled to see through the gloomy streets lit only by the glaring neon of luminous signs. He was panting heavily and he cast a worried glance over his shoulder. He looked around. Perhaps he had shaken them off. Clambering up the fire escape of an apartment building he slumped against the wall of the rooftop entrance.

"You know for a spy you're not all that bright." A mocking voice rang out. The man sat upright. "A rooftop's got no place to run after all." Something moved beside him and he scrambled away. A black cat darted from the shadows.

"You should have honoured the terms of the agreement." Another voice. The smoky sound spoke suddenly to him from the darkness and the man leapt to his feet, looking around frantically. He turned around, ready to run again when he spotted him.

The masked man.

The masked figure was clad in a black overcoat and a white mask whose only distinguishing features were two deep, black holes. The man began to utter an incantation, holding out his hand. There was a high sound like an ethereal choir and a white light around his fingers that grew steadily as his words grew louder.

The masked figure whipped out a hand and the man felt a sharp, sudden sting in his palm as the dagger embedded itself in his skin, transfixing his hand. He let out a cry of pain, falling to the floor and the light dissipated. He scrabbled back as the figure approached.

"Wait!" He said sharply but the figure didn't stop, looming over him it struck him hard across the face with the back of its fist, sending him sprawling to the ground.

"Who sent you?" The masked man asked, pinning the magician to the ground. When the man refused to speak a heavy blow smashed into his kidneys.

"Tell me." The smoky voice demanded. The man grunted in pain. Another sharp blow shattered the bones of his hand.

"The Vatican!" The man gasped out. The weight lifted from his back.

"Good." The voice was emotionless. Dead. "You're going to tell me everything I need to know." The man shook with fear as the figure bore down on him. The night was pierced by a scream of anguish that was abruptly silenced.

Continued in A Certain Magical Index - Arc 2
Aleister Crowley
Aleister Crowley
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