Advanced Clockwork: Young Writers Prize 2014

Chaoter 24

"Is it done?" A figure asked from the shadows, irritation and impatience mingling in the rather cold voice.

"Yes." Lord Darek said glumly, his sad face all covered in oil, dirt, and rust flakes as he backed away from his latest creation. "It is done."

The figure's lips parted in a rather wicked grin, his skeleton hand grasping ahold of the young Lord's shoulder like Death itself. "I am impressed." The figure said in a rather bored tone. "I would have thought it would have taken you a week, yet it took you only three days."

"I had a good incentive." Lord Darek hissed, glaring over his shoulder at the hooded figure with distaste. "Now, you will leave my son out of this. I did what you asked."

"Oh, your son was never a part of this." The figure chuckled darkly. "You think that I would stoop as low as you humans do? That is rather predictable of you."

"What?" Lord Darek gasped, backing away and turning to face his hounder with flares of anger in his eyes. "You lied to me! You fake, sniviling cockroach-"

And that was all he could say, his words cutting off when the air to his lungs stopped flowing freely. He felt the freezing grip around his neck, the stranger grinning under his hood as he pulled the Lord into the light. Lord Darek stared in surprise when the hand that gripped his neck and slowly was choking him to death glistened silver and bone-like in the dull lights of the workshop.

"I may have." The figure growled, a playful grin on his lips like a cat who had caught the mouse. "But, at least you did what you were asked to do. And since my use for you is done," He snapped Darek's neck easily, as if it were only a twig in his hands. "I have no use for you."

His body hit the ground hard, like a rock falling to the surface. His cold, lifeless hazel eyes were permenently wide in fear as his body crashed to the hard cement floor of his workshop, reflecting everything within the dead surface. The man sighed as he kicked the body out of the way, the metal foot only flicking it lightly as it sent the corpse flying across the room and into the steal walls that incased them. He smirked as he stepped towards the creation, pulling back his hood to reveal the silvery blue face as smooth as a mirror's surface and eyes that burned with dark amber hues. His hands did not drip blood, but he smiled at them as if he had taken the beating heart out of a man for the first time. Then his eyes looked away from the now beaten corpse to the monstrocity that had been created just for him.

"My my, what lovely craftsmanship." Adam mused as he ran his hand over the smooth copper metal. "I must say, this was not made by a mortal man alone."  He nodded his head to the corpse and smiled that sick charming smile. "Thank you so much, Lord Stanly, for your contribution to this coming war."

He smiled evily back at the large creation before him, his hands still running over the smooth metal as he examined what would become his most prized possetion come the slaughter. He knew Eve was weak, she would never think to use force. But that was her, and he wasn't anything like her anymore. Believe the sick game of hope, Adam, believe the painful game they play to get you to think you are alive. He wasn't alive, he had no heart or soul. So he shall never burn in Hell.

He hurried up the staircase into the Stanly mantion, putting up his human mask and grinned widely at his gaurds that waited for him at the door. "My King," One said, kneeling before him as all his loyal subjects were bound to do. "what are your orders?"  Adam thought for a moment, his fingers running through his long locks of platnum blond hair as if he were making up a desition. But he already knew the answer.

"Prepare."