Self Destructing Messenger

#18 - Piece of Mind

Without warning, a blade flashed through the night air. The silver caught the moon's beams as it raced towards its target. Precisely aimed, the dagger entered the intended target's back but did not stop at the hilt. Instead the weapon continued its trajectory, landing with a clatter on the gravel of the rooftop.

Azalea sucked in a slow breath as she returned to her normal state after phasing. Her eyes remained fixed on the skyline, the city lights glimmering. Just a few hours alone, that was all she wanted. Clearly that was asking too much.

Reluctantly, she accepted that her brooding was over with for the time being. Her eyes traveled from the blade at her feet to the source of the throw.

"A sword," she said, voice cold. "Really?"

"More of a dagger," came a reply from the darkness. As fluid as a feline, the Man in Black glided into view from the shadowed entrance. "Or if a sword and a fancy letter opener consummated their love," he mused, ignoring her obvious annoyance. He shook off the wandering thoughts. "Now before you get incensed-"

"Oh I'm beyond that," she interrupted.

He continued on. "I know we said no gifts but it's our three month anniversary and I just couldn't help myself sooooo-" Without further explanation, he raised one arm to reveal a matching blade.

She stared blankly for several heartbeats. "Go away," she said finally.

"But wait! There's more!" He insisted and raised his other hand to reveal a cropped jacket. "I've tried to be nice about it, dearest, but your fashion sense is dreadful. You'll never get on the cover of Vogue at this rate so I've Kanye'd you the latest of the latest. This isn't even released yet. Or ever. What I'm trying to say is I kidnapped a designer, had him make it and then stabbed him in the face with these daggers I got you. Good news by the way, they stab excellently. It's like they were made for stabbing."

Azalea frowned, pulling her denim jacket close to her frame. She didn't appreciate his comments as fashion was one of the few hobbies she could afford to take up during her idol adventures. Often it was the only distraction that kept her sane back in the days before Cayce. But she was sane now, right? No Voice ringing in her head however her mind was far from quiet. Her own thoughts raced constantly, every single one about her lost friend. About how it was her fault. She couldn't stop seeing him on that hospital floor.

Before she could be overwhelmed by memories, Azalea responded to the Man in Black. "No thanks. I like my clothes."

"Well you are the only one."

Before she could verbally lash out at him, he snapped his fingers. In response to his hex, the seams of the garment she was wearing disintegrated and the patchwork bits of denim dropped the the gravel surface of the rooftop. The blonde gaped at the pieces but the shock soon shifted to rage.

"Bastard!" She yelled. In a heartbeat she closed the distance between them, swinging her fist. She connected with his left cheek. His head turned slightly with the impact.

He worked his jaw briefly, a dot of blood highlighting the corner of his mouth. "One would think you'd praise my discretion at not disrobing you entirely but that's fine. Now that you have that out of your system-" he began but was cut short as she stuck him again.

Her knuckles throbbed from the contact with the thin man's bony features but it was worth it. This was simply the way the two had worked out communication in their time together. "Alright," the blonde said. "Continue."

"Thanks," he replied, lifting the his ill gotten garment so she could see it clearly. "Jacket and daggers? It's a set. Inside the sleeves are braces that hold the blades in place. A sharp flick of the arm and snickt! Never again will you have to improvise to murder people."