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originally posted in:The New Dojo
Edited by Nibber Schipper:
11/19/2017 12:59:18 PM
1
"Jason," [i]The thoroughly confused Russian mumbled to himself as he remembered his name, his voice deep, robust, rough, and yet strangely gentle, even warm.[/i] "Yeah, that's my name..."
[i]He stood at roughly six feet and four inches, just a hair beneath five. His body was mesomorphic and very definitely well-built, shaped in a way that could be described as Adonis-like with a beefy neck, broad shoulders, thick arms, and muscles as hard as steel, while his legs were nothing to scoff about, either: long and muscular, fitting for someone who never skipped leg day. His taut skin was healthily tan, and yet, completely hairless as if he had waxed it away, leaving his only hair below the belt and on his face.
As far as his face went, he was handsome for sure, if old -- early forties, no doubt. His jawline was strong and oaken with predominant cheekbones and a rounded chin, almost as if he was chiseled out of marble or rock. A large nose sat in the middle of his face above two thin, lightly coloured lips, slightly crooked to the right as if it had once been broken. His eyes were a deep, grey-silver colour, sheltered from above by two bushy eyebrows, grey as the rest of his hair. A short cut on the sides yet long on top formed his haircut. A short trim of dense stubble coated his jaw, curling around his mouth.
He wasn't entirely free of blemishes, however, as his entire body was littered in scars; some old, some new, most of them gruesome. His chest, for starters, had two cuts from his left shoulder diagonally downwards to his right hip, each gash about an inch wide with two inches separating them, long since filled with champagne pink scar tissue. A burn covered his right shoulder, reaching even to his back. The rest were mostly miscellaneous, ranging from bullet wounds to stab wounds to burn wounds to everything in between.[/i]
"What kinda flip-flopping motherfuсking horror story shitshow did I step into?"
[i]A very colourful guy, this one.[/i]
English
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[b]Suddenly, everything went completely white. His head throbbed, his senses dulled. His mouth went dry. It was hard to breathe. It was miserable. He couldn’t think, his head was spinning. It was like someone had suddenly injected him with something like cyanide. He began to feel extremely nauseous, like he would vomit any second. Then, he slipped into unconsciousness. When he awoke, he was somewhere completely different. It was a bar, a very big one at that. It had perhaps hundreds of people in it, all drinking an assortment of cocktails and mixtures that only the best of mixologists could create. The tables were made of mahogany, as was the bar. The stools were topped with velvet, and the chairs had red cushions on them. The attire of the people around him was strange as well, looking extremely outdated and old-fashioned. Whatever had brought him here had a proclivity for the fifties, it seemed. He was actually wearing a padded suit as well, like many men in the crowd. A shot of whiskey lay in his right hand, a shot of some pink liquid in his left. Across the table from him was a woman, looking at him expectedly.[/b] “Well? Are you taking the deal or not?” [b]It was strange, no matter how hard he tried, he could make any specific features out about her. It was... Unsettling, to say the least.[/b]
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[i]No matter how real it all felt - the throbbing in his head, the dryness in his mouth and throat, the light feeling in his head, the suffocating sensation, and his senses slowly disappearing - Jason was convinced he was dreaming a nightmare, every bit of his being screaming that it was all fake... and in truth, he really did believe it. When he went unconscious and woke up in the middle of something else, as if he had taken someone else's place in that very moment, he only became more certain of his assumptions and his thoughts, thoroughly believing it, and when the woman asked him that very question... he decided he might as well have some fun before waking up.[/i] "Gimme the details one more time, darling," [i]He responded, swirling the whiskey around in the small glass with his right hand, before bringing it up to his lips, drinking it all in one gulp, only to set the glass back down.[/i] "If I'm to make such a major choice, I'd like to be sure I didn't hear anything wrong -- sorry to bother you." [i]The fact the woman didn't seem to have a face was unsettling, yes, but it only served to reinforce Jason's thoughts about this entire post further.[/i]
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[b]The woman stood up, and pushed her chair in. It seemed that she had gotten frustrated, or he might’ve made his decision without even knowing about it. She turns her back on him, and sighs.[/b] “You’ve made your decision, sir. Rash bastard...” [b]She suddenly begins to walk off. In a few seconds, she was completely gone into the crowd. There was another person near him, and they walked right at to him. They sat down across from him, and folded their hands in front of them. This one was a man.[/b] “You’ve made a mistake. Take your time. You will doom yourself if you fail to think about what you’ve done. Take time, and look.”
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[i]Lalalala, he was dreeeaaaming. He was absolutely sure of it, and there was no way to change his mind. When the man sat down, Jason grinned to himself, amused by his words about the Russian having doomed himself or whatever -- he didn't care, at least not really.[/i] "Doomed myself? Hardly! I'm dreaming right now... makes me wonder [i]why[/i] my subconscious is making this all up, but at the same time, I can't remember much of anything... Strange. See, I can't even remember the deal I supposedly just made... probably by drinking my whiskey o whatever." [i]He simply shrugged to himself, grey eyes staring at the man in front of him. He made a little 'hmm' noise as he swirled the strange pink liquid around in its glass, only to bring it up to his lips as he had the vodka, drinking it down with a single gulp, just like how shots were intended. With a slow sigh, he sat the glass back down.[/i]
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[b]Sadly, the pink liquid was pepto-bismol, a digestive medicine. Needless to say, it tasted absolutely horrible. Though there was something else mixed in there... It tasted like vanilla. It was very faint, but it was very much there. He began to feel faint again.[/b] “Doom yourself? I never said that. Have patience, Jason. You must have patience, wait for your time.” [b]Quickly after, Jason fell again. He woke up very soon this time, in a black room with a window. Beside the window, was a briefcase.[/b]
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[i]Jason was literally on the verge of replying to the strange man when he passed out again, only to "wake up" in a new room. Going by the singular window and lone briefcase, he assumed the job he accepted to be an assassination of... someone, though that was a guess. A wild guess in a wild dream, eight eyebrow rising up in curiosity and confusion both as he did nothing more than stare for a little. Slowly, he started walking towards the briefcase, dress shoes lightly tapping on the wooden flooring, echoing throughout the empty room. He paused when he stood before the briefcase, carefully laying it down on its side and on top of the windowsill-thing it was on, flicking open the little locks after. He lifted the lid, peering inside with curiosity shining in his eyes..[/i]
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[b]Inside, however, was not a gun. It was a handheld telescope, looking very old. It was brown on the body of it, with a gold trim around the edges. It was oddly light, and looked polished. It appeared to be wooden, or maybe even some sort of rough metal. Perhaps his goal was less violent than he originally thought.[/b]
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Edited by Nibber Schipper: 11/21/2017 6:22:13 PM[i]Jason sighed quietly, gently picking the telescope up and out of its case, making sure to handle its seemingly old frame with care, lest he accidentally break it. He blinked his two silver eyes in mild confusion, taking a glance out the window before he lifted the telescope up to his eyes, peering through it and out the window without another thought. He wondered what he'd see, and what the job he took was supposed to be.[/i]
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[b]Yet again, everything began to fade away, and he began to slip into unconsciousness. Slowly, all his thoughts turned to a single word, and that word only. Patience. He then woke up in a dark, quiet room. He was standing, and was wearing only a pair of thin pajamas. He felt someone standing to either side of him, like they were in a line. Someone spoke down the line, and a whip being cracked was heard.[/b]
