Chapter CCXCIV: A Marked Man ~Multehx

Leaping out through a second floor window, Tehxnot'lucan landed on the ground with a dull thud. Brushing aside the hair in his eyes deftly, as that do-gooder version of him was accustomed to, he sneered.

"Well, I made it out of that one quite skilfully," He snickered, beginning to walk away from the mansion. "Old coot never knew what was coming. I am just too good for the geezers to handle."

Laughing evilly, the dark Twilighter "sheathed" his sword on his back. "Now I think it's time I go out to do some 'shopping' to get what the man wants."

Stopping, he pulled out a cell phone and flicked it open. Toggling a switch on the side, the LCD display was filled with a series of numbers and finally, at the very bottom, a series of numbers and letters that were navigational coordinates.

T'Lucan snickered, closing the phone. "Scilas my boy, you are a professional, but even you won't find where I planted my little 'sign' on you. Well, at least not until you have a craving for any of your little 'antics'. By then, I'll be there, so do keep dinner warm for me, as I doubt there'll be any traffic tonight."

Holding his hand to the sky, the demon grinned maliciously as he thrust it down at the ground. Black fire erupted from the earth and engulfed him instantly. Then, after a moment, it died down, leaving no trace of his presence.

------

Scilas grinned behind his mask. It was nice being back with the others again, even that screw-ball robot with the kid. Those two never ceased to amuse him. Even now, they were heatedly bickering as the group walked along.

D'Nel angrily growled, pointing at his mechanical partner as he shouted, "Oh yeah?! Well, at least I wasn't lost!"

Ray Noh waved a fist in expression of his own emotion. "Oh yeah?! Well, that's just because you had the professional," he nodded at Scilas, "here to keep YOU from getting lost, as he knew you WOULD get yourself killed if you were!!"

And so, this continued. Jaded chuckled slightly, Kenzo laughed quietly from the rear, and Scilas simply shook his head, grinning. But, as the walked, Scilas noticed a cloth cover of a merchant's stall had an end blowing dangerously near a lit candle lamp. Deciding to be a good samaritan, he drew a knife from his concealed shoulder-holder and cut away the excess cloth. The piece of fabric blew free and was soon out of sight.

But something caught his eye. He always kept his knives spotless, with no traces of grime or fluids from their use. But for some reason, this knife's blade was dull in the reflection of the candle. Questioningly, he lowered it and held closer to his face, turning it as he scrutinized it.

His eyes widened in shock. He now saw what was causing the shine to be prevented, and it was a horrid thing indeed. Any trained professional in his line knew what it meant. The others walked on down the street, but apparently, Jaded read the actions of the assassin and made his way over to him.

"What's wrong?" he asked with some concern in his usual cold demeanor.

Scilas kept staring at the knife. "It's...a very...very bad sign."

Jaded frowned, looking at the knife blade as well. At first, he couldn't detect more than a little dirt on its face. But on looking closer, his eyebrows shot up and his palor faded dramatically.

Swallowing, he pointed at the knife. "Is...is that a?..."

Scilas frowned, nodding. “A marking...I've been marked."

Normally, such a word would mean absolutely nothing of any importance to most. But in the world of professional killing, both of them knew exactly what grave seriousness it carried.

A 'marking' meant that you, as a professional killer, had been selected by another killer as their prime target. And, furthermore, markings always included something blended into the paint, either electronic or magik in origin, that allowed the mark to be traced to whoever knew its frequency. Also it was noted that markings were only used by highly skilled professionals on others of similar calibre.

Jaded instantly forcefully shook the assassin. "Well, come on man, take care of it!" he shouted as quietly as he could with the same urgency. "They could have a homing attack on its way, and who knows how long you've had it. Get rid of it!!"

Hurriedly looking about, Scilas's gaze finally fell on what he was looking for. Winding up, he hurled the knife into the air with great skill. The blade spun end over end rapidly, arching high above and tacking itself in the side of a decrepit building with boards covering the windows.

Jaded wiped his brow in relief. Scilas simply folded his arms and frowned heavily.

"What's got you now?" the mercenary asked.

"I'll have you know, that was my lucky knife. Jektihn gold, engraved handle, stainless steel blade, won it in a poker game." He snorted indignantly. "I really liked that one."

Jaded smirked, patting him on the shoulder. "Look, we'll find you another one, pal. Now we must regroup with the others and head to that inn to find the man we have to go meet."

Scilas sighed and nodded. The two started off, walking at a hurried pace down the street their comrades had gone down.

------

There was another burst of the same black flames which quickly faded into nothingness as Tehxnot'lucan appeared. He looked about, breathing in deeply.

"Hmm, the air's rather pleasant here. And judging by the apparent culture, this is the place." He smiled to himself. "Things are looking up. Now, where are they?"

As he looked to his left, he noticed the knife buried in the wall. Removing it, he looked it over. "Ah, here this is. You know, this is exquisite craftsmanship. Now I just wonder why he left it in a wall?" Glancing back to the wall, he studied the building. He had to shoo away a blue jay in order to get a clear look at the spot.

Wait...he had to shoo away a bird just now. Perched contentedly on a ledge. Birds didn't perch down low, and buildings rarely ever had ledges on the ground. Quickly, he looked down.

Below him, the daily routines of the people went on as usual. Very below him. Pretty far below him. Closer inspection confirmed to him that he was standing on a beam of wood protruding from the building that had apparently once been supporting a sign of some sort.

He winced at this realization. Ok...easy does it...don't want to fall now.

He tried to reassert his balance, cautiously shifting how he stood. The beam hardly even creaked as he did this.

His confidence slowly came back to him. Well...this thing seems rather sturdy.

He gently leapt and landed back on the wood. It barely moved. T'lucan grinned.

Yeah, this thing's right steady. It's probably brand new! Solid as a–

The crack split the air loudly.

The demon plummeted downward, falling faster than the beam as he was more aerodynamic. He flailed about as he neared the ground, trying to devise a plan of something to do, anything really, to avoid the pain rising to meet him fast. Then, as he was only ten or so feet above it, his mind hit something. He laughed sheepishly as it did.

Why am I complaining?? I'm a Twilighter. I fly, dammit.

He slowed dramatically, floating to the ground. As his boots touched the earth, he fixed his collar, grinning smugly.

"Once again, perfectly with grace, and undying style." He blew on his fist, rubbing the shirt on his chest with his knuckles. "Yes sir, I am this good, thank ya very much."

He remained grinning, standing there, as the beam smashed in two over his head and the pieces clattered noisily to the street.

The demon didn't move for a moment. Then, putting his hands to his head, he yelled loudly, "OOOOW! Whyr-Dammit, that hurts!! Ow! Dammit, that's not right!"

He cursed proficiently as he rubbed his head, making his way down the street he was on. The knife simply lay there on the cobbled walkway, until a passing child carelessly kicked it into an alley on their passing.