Hey, I'd appreciate any opinion on whatever read from this day forward, it owuld mean a lot. CRITICISM is gladly accpeted; however, trolling is just being retarded.
Prologue
A few hundred miles from the coast of the southwestern part of the Western Sahara there is a small solitary island. The island is small in comparison to the huge continent (Africa) beside it and was unknown to appear on any world or regional maps. Its size was deceiving from satellite view, to the human eye, it was almost a city. This solitary island housed many secrets and because of this, its obscurity was exaggerated to even higher levels. This vast yet diminutive island is known to those unconcerned with it as unknown; however, to those whose interests lie within the very ideal of such a place, it is known as Peritia.
In this island called Peritia, there is a building; in fact, there are quite a number of buildings but as of now forget about them and focus on this particular one in question. There are quite a number of rooms in this building but only one contains a man of so much importance, that all other rooms are rendered quite cursory. The room was a well-furnished office, the kind normally associated with really rich businessmen. There was a aquarium fixed to the wall with various fish inside it, complimenting it nicely was the cool blue lighting in the room. The room was well carpeted, save for a strip of plastic next to stylish mahogany desk. Aside from this there were a bunch of random stuff like two uncomfortable armchairs for visitors; cool jazz music playing in the background; a dead body on the plastic, still leaking blood; cool atmosphere from state of the art air-conditioning; and a bunch of framed diplomas and the sort all over the walls.
The man in question was known as The Diction, no other name was necessary, and everyone who knew and wasn't dead or very far away knew him as nothing else. There was no particular significance to the name it was simply the best sounding for a man of his occupation and caliber. He was tall, of average build, wore a pair of green-tinted designer glasses and always seemed to have a serious look on his face. He hardly smiled, and when he did, it was that ' surely-it's-not-me-you-wish-to-f**k-with-smile. He had short blonde hair styled in a military buzz cut (if you consider that styled at all) , and his eyes were milky white with blindness.
He stood in front of the mahogany desk of his office looking at a still smoking gun in his left hand as he didn't know how it got there. Then he noticed the blood leaking from the exaggerated exit wound on the dead body was starting to get on his rug. He sighed and bent over to reach the other side of his desk and tapped a hidden button.
Almost immediately there was a sharp knock on the closed door of the office and the door opened without even a glance from The Diction. A secretary dressed sharply in a gray tailored suit. She was very attractive and practically exuded the word 'sexy' into a tangible essence. However, she had a dead serious look on her face; a look that said she was ready and willing to destroy anything in her path if it as much as a 'hello' was uttered. It was her business look. She glanced briefly at the body and then at her boss, her facial expression never changing.
The Diction simply waved the gun in the direction of the leaking corpse. It had been a man in a leather jacket , jeans and boots; anything else had to be discerned from belongings in the Doe's pockets, his face was absent.
“I'll send someone to deal with it immediately, anything else, sir?” she said. Her voice was sharp and cold, almost as if she challenging the man in charge. However, The Diction was used to her manner of speaking, he was a man of patience and had gotten over her tone a long time ago; the corpse next to his desk on the other hand, seemed to have dry out all that patience in a matter of mere seconds.
The result was obvious.
The Diction walked around his desk slowly(stepping over the corpse gracefully) and sat down on a very comfortable chair before replying.
“Tell Watcher he is needed” he after a slight pause.
“I'm already here” came a quiet voice from a corner of the room closer to The Diction than his secretary. However, The Diction didn't even acknowledge the the direction of the voice; instead he continued looking at his secretary.
A figure in a black hooded trench coat slid out from behind the secretary as if he had been hiding behind her all this while. He was extremely thin, and this was indicated by the manner with which his clothes hung loosely on him. His face was hidden under the hood of his trench coat, although there seemed to be a bit more darkness under that hood than the usual shadows cast. To her credit, the secretary didn't even bat an eye. She simply moved slightly to the left as if to let the mysterious individual walk past her.
“I would appreciate it if you did not attempt that again Watcher” the secretary said in her cold voice. The figure known as Watcher simply nodded his head slowly.
“Of course, my apologies miss” He apologized with utmost sincerity. His voice was soft and barely audible, almost as if he was being muted by something.
The secretary nodded curtly at The Diction, completely ignoring Watcher and walked out of the office, closing the door behind her. Immediately the door closed, Watcher sat down on one of the uncomfortable chairs facing The Diction and pulled down his hood. His face was so heavily scarred and tattooed, that it was impossible to gauge his age. Scars and ink crisscrossed all over his face, neck, and bald scalp. One thing that stood out was his piercing green eyes that seemed full of energy and life, making him look slightly deranged. He glanced at the corpse and raised an eyebrow, shifting all the scars and art upon his face.
“No spray, you seem to be improving” he said in his almost-silent voice. Despite the praise, The Diction's expression remained as neutral as ever.
“Thank you, you approval means a lot” he replied, though his face and voice simply said that he really didn't give two flying f**k what anyone thought.
“So I assume you wish to know of the plan?” Watcher asked. The Diction simply stared.
“Everything is set up to perfection. The girl has been restrained and only the three remain, all I need is your approval to continue”, Watcher continued.
“ Good, get started then; nothing gets in your way; no authority but mine, I'll take care of the heat, understood?”
“Crystal”
“Then get out of here, my other staff are too scared to come in here with you stinking up the place”. Watcher simply smiled,his face going into a spasm, and just like that he wasn't there anymore. It was almost as if he wasn't there to begin with, or had just winked out of the existence. The Diction didn't even acknowledge the vanishing, he had already looked over Watcher shoulder as soon as he finished talking.
“Get your asses in here, or I'll replace my rug with your skin” he said in loud voice. The door opened and two extremely pale men in suit and sunglasses entered the room with a body bag.
While the suits did their job, The Diction mulled over the events that were too take place if his plan worked to perfection, which was unlikely, his plans always had some variable unaccounted for; but, he was known for being a genius at improvising and making it work to perfection.
Peritia was about to go through some drastic changes .
