A black Rolls Royce Phantom, a symbol of good tastes within a man who has money, and power. Such was the car, such was the man, Rudolph, who was as old fashioned as his grey handlebar mustache, which despite lingering softly underneath his nose, nevertheless failed to distract from the cold, hard look he kept on his face.
He had no chauffeur, and no music playing as he drove. Little interesting fact about Rudolph; the man hated music, hated it with a passion, he once said “If the music industry isn’t already dead in 2014, then it damn well should be in the near future.” Of course Rudolph never told anybody the reason why he hated music, the reason why he couldn't stand listening to it. Either it was the fact that he got his heart broken by a girl from Broadway just a few years back, or it was the fact that he was a man who liked to keep tabs on the natural world around him; either would be a reasonable excuse, but when asked for a reason, he would share neither. Thus was probably why so many of Rudolph’s friends in the Upper Class despised him so much, after all, what’s a rich man who doesn’t like to live it up?
When he arrived at the museum parking lot, Rudolph waited. Patience slowly became annoyance as Rudolph started glancing at the clock. As minutes went by, his glances became glares. At about 12:30 he opened his window, and listened to the winds outside his car; the winds lacked rhythm and melody, which is why their whispers amused Rudolph, but as much as Rudolph enjoyed listening to the wind, he had to listen, carefully, for something else.
“That idiot…” Rudolph grumbled to himself angrily “Where the hell is he?”
Rudolph decided it would be best to get out of his car and start heading towards the entrance of the museum; he figured that since he was parked so far away from the front entrance, so he might as well start his approach sooner than later. Rudolph didn’t watch TV, use the internet for entertainment, he didn't read books, play sports, or (as mentioned) listen to music. For entertainment, Rudolph liked to take walks wherever he could find peace and quiet: parks, bridges, and forest trails. But whenever Rudolph walked, he always walked alone. This was no leisurely stroll though, this was the day that Rudolph would set out to make his one dream in life come true.
As he walked, he brushed the dust off of his dark, old fashioned coat. His coat featured a hole in the back, either gaped open by a flock of hungry moths or bitten by a badger, a beaver, or perhaps even a bullet. The hole’s strange, mangled shape could have been mistaken as a sign of any sort of attack, further adding to Rudolph’s mysterious glow.
Suddenly, an alarm rang from the museum. Rudolph checked his silver pocket watch “That damn moron is about twenty minutes late, I hope he’s faster at getting out than he is getting in.”
