Hopefully, the updates of this story will become more frequent. I've gone
far too long without working on this fic. Anyway, see you all next time.
-Bojack727
Chapter Nine: Sick
Vincent stumbled his way up the stair as his vision blurred. He managed to make it to the top and into his room.
Once inside, he burst into the bathroom to alleviate the sickening feeling inside of him. After several minutes, he staggered back into his room and fell collapsed onto the floor with his back against the side of the bed.
He was getting worse now, and the sickness seemed to be accelerating as time wore on. For a moment, the image of his ultimate demise passed through his head. It was just the way James had described it to him. It chilled him to bone to think that he would end up like that.
Another thought briefly passed through his mind- he could end it himself... He reached into his cloak and pulled out one of the many guns he carried on him and started to point the barrel towards the side of his head.
Several moment of excruciating silence passed as he sat their, alone in the dark room. His hand trembled and he finally lost his nerve. He dropped the pistol onto the floor and closed his eyes.
So much pain ... There was so much pain in his life. Everything had been nothing more then a series of disasters and heartbreaks. He had only truly loved one woman in his whole life, and she rejected him. Why had he loved a woman that couldn't... and didn't... love him back?
Then he was betrayed by a man he was supposed to have trusted. That same man didn't even give him the choice of dying; instead, he brought him back to life to live for ever as a freak. "What am I?" He thought. "I'm just a walking corpse." He thought, in reply of his own question.
***
Charles was keeping himself busy shuffling a deck of cards when one of his "assistants" came running into the casino. His dark brown hair was slicked back neatly and he was dressed in his usual fancy clothes.
"Boss, someone attacked the boarding house last night!" He exclaimed as he stopped beside him.
Still sitting down, Charles replied without looking away from his deck. "Let me guess, whoever attacked him," He began. "Didn't do so well, correct?" He asked.
"Yes sir, those two punks- Silas and Glen- tried to sneak into his room at night, but now they're both dead." He replied.
"I knew it wouldn't be long before it started, Randy." Charles replied, still not looking away from the deck.
"What started?" Randy asked him.
"Before the mercenaries started showing up." He replied. "Killing Vincent Valentine is a guaranteed ticket to stardom." He explained calmly. He then stood up and looked Randy in the eyes.
"So you think there will be more, then?" Randy asked.
"I'd be surprised if there weren't others." He replied.
"What about you, Boss?" the other man asked the dealer.
Charles sat back down and returned to his cards. "This is a very serious matter." He replied. "One which I will not walk idly into." He added. "I want to see more of what Mr. Valentine can do first, before I even think about it." He finished and then became quiet once again.
"It is important that I know that Mr. Valentine is worth the trouble of me going out of my way," He remarked as he leaned back in his chair and pulled up a bottle of gin and a glass. "I'll send out my special team to deal with him first." He added. "Then we'll know what to do."
***
"I'm worried, Mom." Gillium explained to his mother.
Marian looked at her son with some fondness in her eyes. She was reminded of how important he had been to her, especially after her husband died. "Well, he is very sick." She replied.
"I know," The red-haired young man replied from where he and mother sat in the dining room. "But he's getting worse." He added.
"I know." She replied. The truth was that she knew how bad he was even more intimately then her son did. What troubled her was the fact that she felt obliged to get herself so involved in his personal problems. Perhaps it was the fact that he had seemed to vulnerable to her. His moments of uncertainty and illness were a sharp contrast to the cold and grim way he had been described to her in stories when she was young. Did she feel like she had to care for him when he refused to care for himself?
***
Vincent looked out the window. The sun was quickly going down- vanishing behind the mountainous horizon. He'd been cooped up in the room for a few hours now. He then looked down into the street. He noticed a small group of people making there way towards the saloon and casino, on the far end of the town.
One of them looked to be at least seven feet tall and had a large weapon slung over his shoulder. Another one was a little over six feet tall and was stooped over. The other four, he couldn't make out.
However, as he watched them, he had a bad feeling come over. There was something about these people that he didn't like. Instinctively, he began to reach into his cloak, but stopped once he thought better of it. "Who are they?" He asked himself.
***
Charles watched the group enter his casino. "Thank you all for arriving so expeditiously."
A figure stepped forward. He was wearing a strange reddish-brown body suit and a tattered hat over his head, the brim pulled down over his eyes. "No problem, we got your telegraph last night and rode in as fast as we could." He answered. "By the way, the job in Kalm has now been taken care of."
Everyone quickly sat down at a large table in the room. "I've called you all here because I want you to kill someone for me." Their host explained.
"Who?" One of the others asked.
"Vincent Valentine." He replied.
***
Vincent walked down the stairway, his cloak hanging around him, his guns clapping against his hips. He was heading towards the door when a voice stopped him.
"Vincent, where are you headed?" Marian asked.
He looked over his shoulder at the blond-haired woman. "I need to think, I may be gone some time." He replied as he left the room.
She shook her head as she watched him leave. "Stubborn man." She commented as he vanished into the darkness. She tightened the tie around her waist and shut the door.
***
"Vincent Valentine?!" Exclaimed the man in the old hat.
A tall, slumped over figure spoke up. "Vincent Valentine is a killing machine." He remarked. The words coming from behind his masked face. The figure sounded too be male, as was wearing a strange battle suite and has long spider-like arms and legs. His mask had no visible openings for his eyes or mouth, yet he still seemed able to see perfectly and speak unheeded.
The one in the hat spoke again. "Rifter." He said as he held up his hand. He then looked back over at their host. "You actually think we're stupid enough to try and kill him?" He asked.
Charles smiled. "Mr. Valentine is dying." He replied simply.
Another cloaked figure stepped forward. "Are you sure?" asked a decidedly female voice.
"I'm certain of it." The dealer replied. "It's only a matter of time before he dies from a particularly fatal illness." He finished.
"Then why do you need us to kill him, then?" The man in the hat asked.
"My dear Jackal," Charles began. "The problem is that he's not dying fast enough." He went on. "At the moment, he's still strong enough to interfere with my master plans." He concluded.
The female voice spoke once more. "Why should we do this anyway?"
Charles smiled demurely. "If you kill him, then I will set you free from your contracts with me."
"Our freedom?" Asked the colossal one.
"Yes, unconditionally." He replied.
Jackal leaned forward and smiled. "We'll do it then." He replied.
~End of Chapter Nine~
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter; I rather enjoyed introducing some new villains. The main storyline should be revealing itself soon.
-Bojack727
-Bojack727
Chapter Nine: Sick
Vincent stumbled his way up the stair as his vision blurred. He managed to make it to the top and into his room.
Once inside, he burst into the bathroom to alleviate the sickening feeling inside of him. After several minutes, he staggered back into his room and fell collapsed onto the floor with his back against the side of the bed.
He was getting worse now, and the sickness seemed to be accelerating as time wore on. For a moment, the image of his ultimate demise passed through his head. It was just the way James had described it to him. It chilled him to bone to think that he would end up like that.
Another thought briefly passed through his mind- he could end it himself... He reached into his cloak and pulled out one of the many guns he carried on him and started to point the barrel towards the side of his head.
Several moment of excruciating silence passed as he sat their, alone in the dark room. His hand trembled and he finally lost his nerve. He dropped the pistol onto the floor and closed his eyes.
So much pain ... There was so much pain in his life. Everything had been nothing more then a series of disasters and heartbreaks. He had only truly loved one woman in his whole life, and she rejected him. Why had he loved a woman that couldn't... and didn't... love him back?
Then he was betrayed by a man he was supposed to have trusted. That same man didn't even give him the choice of dying; instead, he brought him back to life to live for ever as a freak. "What am I?" He thought. "I'm just a walking corpse." He thought, in reply of his own question.
***
Charles was keeping himself busy shuffling a deck of cards when one of his "assistants" came running into the casino. His dark brown hair was slicked back neatly and he was dressed in his usual fancy clothes.
"Boss, someone attacked the boarding house last night!" He exclaimed as he stopped beside him.
Still sitting down, Charles replied without looking away from his deck. "Let me guess, whoever attacked him," He began. "Didn't do so well, correct?" He asked.
"Yes sir, those two punks- Silas and Glen- tried to sneak into his room at night, but now they're both dead." He replied.
"I knew it wouldn't be long before it started, Randy." Charles replied, still not looking away from the deck.
"What started?" Randy asked him.
"Before the mercenaries started showing up." He replied. "Killing Vincent Valentine is a guaranteed ticket to stardom." He explained calmly. He then stood up and looked Randy in the eyes.
"So you think there will be more, then?" Randy asked.
"I'd be surprised if there weren't others." He replied.
"What about you, Boss?" the other man asked the dealer.
Charles sat back down and returned to his cards. "This is a very serious matter." He replied. "One which I will not walk idly into." He added. "I want to see more of what Mr. Valentine can do first, before I even think about it." He finished and then became quiet once again.
"It is important that I know that Mr. Valentine is worth the trouble of me going out of my way," He remarked as he leaned back in his chair and pulled up a bottle of gin and a glass. "I'll send out my special team to deal with him first." He added. "Then we'll know what to do."
***
"I'm worried, Mom." Gillium explained to his mother.
Marian looked at her son with some fondness in her eyes. She was reminded of how important he had been to her, especially after her husband died. "Well, he is very sick." She replied.
"I know," The red-haired young man replied from where he and mother sat in the dining room. "But he's getting worse." He added.
"I know." She replied. The truth was that she knew how bad he was even more intimately then her son did. What troubled her was the fact that she felt obliged to get herself so involved in his personal problems. Perhaps it was the fact that he had seemed to vulnerable to her. His moments of uncertainty and illness were a sharp contrast to the cold and grim way he had been described to her in stories when she was young. Did she feel like she had to care for him when he refused to care for himself?
***
Vincent looked out the window. The sun was quickly going down- vanishing behind the mountainous horizon. He'd been cooped up in the room for a few hours now. He then looked down into the street. He noticed a small group of people making there way towards the saloon and casino, on the far end of the town.
One of them looked to be at least seven feet tall and had a large weapon slung over his shoulder. Another one was a little over six feet tall and was stooped over. The other four, he couldn't make out.
However, as he watched them, he had a bad feeling come over. There was something about these people that he didn't like. Instinctively, he began to reach into his cloak, but stopped once he thought better of it. "Who are they?" He asked himself.
***
Charles watched the group enter his casino. "Thank you all for arriving so expeditiously."
A figure stepped forward. He was wearing a strange reddish-brown body suit and a tattered hat over his head, the brim pulled down over his eyes. "No problem, we got your telegraph last night and rode in as fast as we could." He answered. "By the way, the job in Kalm has now been taken care of."
Everyone quickly sat down at a large table in the room. "I've called you all here because I want you to kill someone for me." Their host explained.
"Who?" One of the others asked.
"Vincent Valentine." He replied.
***
Vincent walked down the stairway, his cloak hanging around him, his guns clapping against his hips. He was heading towards the door when a voice stopped him.
"Vincent, where are you headed?" Marian asked.
He looked over his shoulder at the blond-haired woman. "I need to think, I may be gone some time." He replied as he left the room.
She shook her head as she watched him leave. "Stubborn man." She commented as he vanished into the darkness. She tightened the tie around her waist and shut the door.
***
"Vincent Valentine?!" Exclaimed the man in the old hat.
A tall, slumped over figure spoke up. "Vincent Valentine is a killing machine." He remarked. The words coming from behind his masked face. The figure sounded too be male, as was wearing a strange battle suite and has long spider-like arms and legs. His mask had no visible openings for his eyes or mouth, yet he still seemed able to see perfectly and speak unheeded.
The one in the hat spoke again. "Rifter." He said as he held up his hand. He then looked back over at their host. "You actually think we're stupid enough to try and kill him?" He asked.
Charles smiled. "Mr. Valentine is dying." He replied simply.
Another cloaked figure stepped forward. "Are you sure?" asked a decidedly female voice.
"I'm certain of it." The dealer replied. "It's only a matter of time before he dies from a particularly fatal illness." He finished.
"Then why do you need us to kill him, then?" The man in the hat asked.
"My dear Jackal," Charles began. "The problem is that he's not dying fast enough." He went on. "At the moment, he's still strong enough to interfere with my master plans." He concluded.
The female voice spoke once more. "Why should we do this anyway?"
Charles smiled demurely. "If you kill him, then I will set you free from your contracts with me."
"Our freedom?" Asked the colossal one.
"Yes, unconditionally." He replied.
Jackal leaned forward and smiled. "We'll do it then." He replied.
~End of Chapter Nine~
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter; I rather enjoyed introducing some new villains. The main storyline should be revealing itself soon.
-Bojack727