Written From Random

1) Mr McRothem...

WORDS: Commend, Money, Car, Blushing, Petite, Reject, Power, Insult

A sunny, bountiful morning on the tropical cliffs awoke the many tourists of the very highly commended island of Auraryth. Many a rich man were opening their shutters, gazing into the azure sea, and planning their day of leisure. They would be leaning on their balconies, without a care in the world for anything except that extremely inviting spa down by the beach... Oh, how so many aspire to a life like this; though how few of them seldom chance to reach out.
But of course, for every colony of well-earned gentlemen, there is a hierarchy that strictly places everybody according to their wealth and status. While most bicker and brag and wave around a fancy golden piece of apparel, one man had secured his permanent place at the highest point - Mr McRothem.
He wakes. He's seen. He makes an impact; though few are quite sure (or even aware) of it.
Presently, Mr McRothem was casually strolling down the main path, that led directly through the market place where merchants would attempt to pry the pennies from the gullible tourists. He wore a white suit, with white trousers; this was common for him, and had become his image. A white bowler shadowed most of his face, and smart, black shoes that would usually make a clacking sound on the cobbles - but made not a breath today. However, being as early as it was, nobody was awake. And so he could walk without worry of encountering any of the other residents; for he hated talking to those who asked too many questions. Even if he did, it was incredibly easy for one to abscond through the many side-alleys and seemingly vanish into the very air.
Almost reaching the bottom of the path, he turned abruptly and started making through the plants to a rather well hidden alley. Once through, he found one of his most prized possessions waiting there, as he had expected. His beloved sports car - even in the dark alley, her sleek, red coat blushed as if she were in sunlight.
But today, Mr McRothem had no time for admiring.

Silently, his car sneaked out of the alley, and started creeping around the few corners left between him and the open cliff paths. Once there, she could finally open up to her true potential; roaring along the narrow roads in a way that only experience could teach.
Finally, she slowed, and purred her way along where yet another abrupt turn was taken, onto a road that only she could see. After a few more minutes of steady rumbling, she stopped, and Mr McRothem emerged once again. In a mound - just like any other in the surroundings - there was a thick, metallic door; casually hidden with a brown sheet draped across it.
Despite the rusty hinges, it opened smoothly and swiftly when Mr McRothem pushed against it. And when he became swallowed by the darkness held within, a dark cloud suddenly appeared on the perfectly clear horizon.
Even in the complete darkness, Mr McRothem had no trouble slipping between the constant shadows. Eventually, he came to another door, this one framed by light struggling to grasp freedom. Prying open the latch with delicate precision and stepping inside, he closed it with a resounding boom.

Breathing. Slowly. Calming. All of this (and everything in between) became impossible for the guest of the evening. The boom had sent his heart backfiring, and the sudden presence felt in the air had sent his breathing into a whirlwind of panick; being strapped into this chair as he was did not help. Although, he had full knowledge of why he was there, and who was confronting him... And unfortunately, he was quite sure of the outcome.
But still, he dared not accept it. He wouldn't stand for this foolery! He decided at once that he wouldn't play along with this over-fed game! Pathetic - at the very least - was this McRothem!
Seconds drew into minutes, while nothing happened. Finally, a chilling voice broke the silence.
"Well. Mr Gilger. It sure has been a while since we spoke like this." A fresh wave of fidgeting erupted from the chair, a biting of lips, an anxious darting of eyes, however no fear could be quenched because of the thick straps binding his head, wrists and feet.
The voice continued to slice, like ice, through the thick air: "Would you like to explain to me why you are here today?"
Though it was a question, it was clear there was no expected answer. But Mr Gilger had had enough. "I get the feeling that I'm here more to listen than talk, y-you..." Every last reserve of spite was thrown into his words; but still he wavered. As the sweat began to bead and run, his glasses were slowly slipping down his thin, petite nose.
"Certainly, you are much closer than most. I'm a busy man, as I'm sure the stories have made aware, so I'll spare you a dreary death." At this, a shiver slid down the shaking spine. "You have rejected my offer. Listen, Mr Gilger. I'm a man who doesn't like to mess around. And therefore, I am a man who likes to get his own way. I'm sure you understand."
"You're a maniac! You can't expect people to just ag-" He was cut short as a distinctive click sounded.
"I have power, Mr Gilger, and I find it quite the insult that you've dared to challenge it."
"This is redicu-"

A single bullet rattled through its chamber. Outside, it began to rain, and the glasses cracked on the cold, stone floor.