"Fine, let us get down to business then," Grigory retorted as he threw a picture onto the table in front of Dark. The picture was that of a man in his mid 20s wearing a black gown with a small golden religous symbol on his left shoulder, the symbol was that of a hand holding the planet in its palm.
"This is Father Errol Calvert," he carried on after a few minutes, making sure that Dark had had enough time to look at the photo in detail. "He is a missionary from The Order of Numinis, which means trouble for certain people," he paused to let this information sink in before continuing again. "And these certain people do not like trouble, you follow?"
"As clearly as crystal," Dark muttered, eyes flickering over the photograph swiftly, then fixing on Grigory once more. "So you want him gone.Tell me what he's like, where I can find him. He'll be dead shortly - if I decide to do it."
"Father Calvert will be arriving at the Queen's Palm Hotel tomorrow midday for a televised discussion with General Waldemar Dryden," Grigory explained as he took out a layout of the hotel. "Our dear General will distract the masses and buy you time," he continued as he pointed out were Waldemar and Calvert would be. "While Father Calvert is waiting in his room to be called onto the stage, you must make sure he doesn't make it there, ok?"
"Ha I like your enthusiasm," Grigory laughed as he searched his body for the last item he needed to give Dark, finally finding it in the back pocket of his jeans. The item was a small pamphlet dedicated to The Order of Numinis.
People of Midlothian, reject the demon's life style and take a lesson from your brothers and sisters from across the sea. We in Belisarius live through the ways of The Order of Numinis under the wise and graceful leadership of Reverend Ludolf Grenrock. We have banished the items and teachings that destroyed the Old Empire and we implore you to do the same, unless you too want your home to become like Andilacia? The Demon Varzahmah's personal playground! No? Then come to The Queen's Palm Hotel on the 7th day of your month known as Landra. Where after the televised discussion between our own Father Errol Calvert and your General Waldemar Dryden, you will be able to ask our Father any questions. In the area will also be Father Kyle Lother, Father Sean Howell, Brother Azzen Myers, Fillus Elden Gillimmer and Filla Vanity Sky, so if you see any of them, please feel free to say hello and have a chat with them.
"This is what they are currently giving out to try and convert our people over to their religion," he scoffed with a sarcastic tone when he said religion, "these nutjobs believe that advance technology is evil and that everyone should go back to the dark ages, can you believe that?"
"I've heard wierder s**t," Dark replied, shrugging as he read. "Sounds like the standard religious whacko setup to me, to be honest. But yeah, sure, I'll take Calvert out of the picture. Shouldn't be hard. I'm good at killing people."
"And for a religious order so are they so be on your guard," Grigory warned as he pointed at his eye patch, "I've booked a room for you on the floor above, you'll be staying with one Nelliam Worthington, under the pretence of being her new partner."
"People tend to find they're not that good at killing, when it comes to me, but fine, whatever. I can do that," Dark replied, rolling his eyes with a half-assed gesture to his 'blind' eye. "Just think, if I'm as capable as I appear right now, when I've drunk more than would put an entire pub under a table... Try and imagine me sober."
"Huh I'll have to make sure I have a front row seat tomorrow," Grigory grinned as he picked his helmet off the table and prepared to leave.
"Well friend, it's been a pleasure, but now I must bid you farewell." Grigory then stuck out his hand to shake Dark's. "You'll find the hotel 20 minutes north of this place, if you have anymore questions then ask Nell."
Augustone had been standing behind his desk at the Queen's Palm Hotel for nearly as long as the young woman who had been sitting at her table, slowly drinking the one glass of water, staring at the hotel's entrance. What is she waiting for? I took over Nate around lunch, it's now gone 6pm, who the Creo is she waiting for?, me mused to himself, still fantasying over the idea that she had been watching him, waiting for him to introduce himself. The girl looked remarkably familiar, and extremely beautiful, however she had a face that suggested that she thought herself higher than others, her clothes certainly gave that impression.
Dark walked in almost noiselessly, his horns and tails concealed neatly with a glamour; his coat collar pulled up to half-hide his face, a bag slung over his shoulder. A pair of glasses sat on his nose, faintly tinted so as to disguise the sharpness and abnormality of his eyes - for while the colour was hidden, the silver pupil was not.
Those same eyes flickered appraisingly round the entrance hall and he moistened his lips - ever so slightly chapped by the cold air outside. He was relatively sober now; though he had a lingering headache. But that, he trusted, would clear up soon enough.
Augustone noticed the new arrival and felt a strange shiver down his spine, wearily he went to turn the hotel's greeter's attention onto their when he suddenly stopped and retracted his hand. The young woman had finally moved. She was now standing and talking to someone on her phone while looking at the guest. Her boyfriend?, he unhappily thought to himself as he watched her slip her phone into her handbag before walking up to the guest. As she walked he could not move his eyes away from her legs, the way her hips seductively swayed under her skirt, he was mesmerised.
"Jives, Jives!!" He shouted to the hotel greeter, who slowly took his head out of the evening newspaper. "We have a new guest, so go greet, quickly now," he indicated with his hand, hoping that the greeter will distract the guest away from the girl for him to finally make his move. While the greeter moved towards the guest, swearing quietly under his breath, Augustone noticed an article in the newspaper and next to the article a photograph, which stopped him in his tracks. By Creo's Cross! That's where I recognise her from, she's Nelliam Worthington, the Prime Minister's daughter! He quickly realised, feeling foolish that he thought he might ever have had a chance with her.