by Neo Arkadia
The two of them had crossed paths nearly 10 years ago. And in that time, it had become nearly impossible for either of them to tell each other apart, not that either of them, or what was left of them, gave the slightest bit of a damn.
But this specific date was very important to the both of them. It was the tenth anniversary of their first meeting. If things went according to the current plan, it would likely be the last. But they didn't care. They both had achieved all of their desired goals.
He, him, they, couldn't believe that a simple act of petty theft had brought them to all this. It wasn't all they thought it would be, but it was certainly something. The Armani Suits. The rich sweet succulent dripping of blood. The expensive soft silk sheets. The horrified screams and terror. The vibrant summer homes in France that he would be selling soon. The desolation of neighborhoods, the blight, the despair, the crime. It was endearing.
Such a pity it would all be gone soon, but they both knew this would be happening since they met. But at least, they kept each other company. Misery does love company, doesn't it? Even when most of it left him for that special boy, enough remained to keep him company forever more. That special boy was the one who could do the real work and finish the decade long mission. But he didn't care. All he, they, wanted, before the end, was to have just a little bit more fun.
He was going to liquidate it all. The money no longer gave him any pleasure anymore. The expensive artwork didn't hold its mysterious meanings anymore. The beautiful wood beneath his feet no longer mattered all that much anymore. It was beautiful, but it was a temporary thing. Temporary things no longer mattered to them.
The blood. The horror. The greatness. Yes, those were things not even the white could not take from him. He was assured, in and of themselves, of his little victories, his great sins. Those things, not even the light could take from him. Them. Those little pleasures were what made life worth living for him anymore. The glasses tinkered as he placed them on the fine silver tray.
Such beautiful rich order. The smell of the barley. The polish of the tray. The sounds of glass brushing on precious metal. A beautiful symphony. The click of his heels. And yet, it could all be easily over turned. Order leads back into chaos.
But... today was not a day for the two of them to cause chaos. Well, not to others.
To themselves was a different story. He put down the tray on the table in the middle of the den. The table sat before a chair fit for a king and a full bodied mirror, overlooking a crackling fire. The scent of the burnt wood filled him as he looked in the mirror.
His normally finely combed hair was wild and stirred up in bold horns. His scruffy beard looked like it could use a trim soon. So was this what he, they, had become? A devil among men? If he had to be, so be it. He would be Lucifer, the morning star of oblivion. And he would make sure the end would be so much fun.
And to revel in the destruction of rebirth. To just enjoy it all...
But that was not for today. Sickened, they sat down and opened the bottle of alcohol.
Kyle Jables, inside and outside the mirror, took the bottle of scotch as he sat down and poured into a shot glass.
He then raised it. "Cheers." And with that, he drank in celebration.
Fin