Gentle_Bull
"Yes father," I said courteously, bowing my head. "I will make sure it is done."
"I'm sure you will, Slade."
I bowed my head one more time, then marched away, the heels of my boots clicking on the vintage wooden floor. As with all noble families, it was considered great wealth to actually own a creaky, dusty mansion on the outskirts of the city. Load of horseshit, if you asked me. They just didn't want to mix with the commonfolk.
Elsa, our headmaid, was waiting for me at the door. She hurriedly opened it, and I continued my march out of my father's study. A faint click behind me gave me what I wanted to hear, and I soundlessly slipped into a side door, a small, mishappen wooden thing most people walked past without a second glance.
A temporary coat of black as the mask slipped comfortably over my face, covering all but my dark blue eyes. The lenses would take care of that, and I would be unnoticeable.
The third night was almost here. It was time for the Phantom Fist to close itself over the house's most prized possessions once more. Little did they know that the Fist was one of their own, the son of their very master. And who would even suspect that the Fist was not one, but FIVE different people... All in the same body?