Old Friends [M] [Ethereal-Star]

[Wild]

It was a cold and dark night at the orphanage in Zantaric. Outside it was thunder and lightening, and inside the dungeon of the dark house was a young elf girl. The girl was kneeling next to a boy around 10 years of age, who was laying on the floor. His right foot was torn off, after being trapped in one of Master's traps, and he was bleeding from the old wound.

The elf girl cried silently when she tried to stop the bleeding, and the boy, in spite of his pain, was trying to comfort her.

"Please don't die on me, Maurice," the girl pleaded. "You are the only friend I have here...."

"I will always be your friend," the boy whispered faintly, as another wave of pain washed over him, causing his tiny body to tremble. "When I am no longer here, I will watch over you from the stars above, and try to protect you from him..."

"You will survive," Wild pleaded, new tears trickling down her cheek. "Maurice... for heaven's sake, I can't do this without you!"

This time she did not get a response. Maurice laid still on the ground, his eyes closed and his face pale. Wild tried to wake him, but she did not get a response. She checked for his pulse, but felt nothing. Lifting her tearstained face towards the sky, she howled out her anger and pain in an Elvish curse.

"Damn you Master!" she cried out loudly. "I wish someone would teach you a lesson, you bloody creep!"

[Ethereal-Star]

Not five seconds later after those angry words were shouted into the air, a dark shape soon emerged in a cloud of black smoke. The figure was garbed in a dark hooded cloak, the hint of crimson hair like blazing flames could be seen underneath it. Red eyes of cold death personified gazed evenly at the elf girl.

"It will be done." Morguen spoke in a deep, business-like tone.

And then the strange being was gone, just like that, dissipating once more into a wisp of darkness that quickly cleared.

[Wild]

Professor Frank N. Stein sat in his office and read through his business papers. His lips were parted in a smug smile when he wrote down his latest income. At first he had been reluctant to take on the role as "protector" for this orphanage - but then he discovered how easy it was earning money on hiring those little buggers in his care to employers in need of workers. It was a lucrative business and he had become a wealthy man. Perhaps even wealthy enough to buy himself more lab equipment.

Little did he think of the little boy in the basement, if life he had ruined on renting him out to work in a mine. Was it his fault that the accident had happened? Perhaps, but nobody could prove that he was behind it. He had not been near the mine himself, just paid others to do his dirty work. Maurice had found out about his lucrative business and threatened to expose him. The boy knew too much and thus he had to die. A pity really, but what other choice did he have?

In the basement Wild looked up from Maurice's lifeless body with a tear-stained face when she heard the strange being speaking. "Who was that?" she whispered when she didn't see anyone.

[Ethereal-Star]

In a darkened corner of the room some fifteen minutes later, that same being reappeared in exactly the same fashion as before--except this time she was shrouded in deep shadows. Calculating red eyes bore into the man, if that's indeed what that filth of baggy fat was, and waited for the right moment in which to strike.

Having returned briefly back to the Black Tower of her home where all the Furies resided, Morguen had looked into her black, scrying orb that she used before and after every mission of hers. From there, she was able to determine more about the culprit she was to kill, and it would be justice served for certain. All the shady deals he had been involved in, not to mention the death of the little boy Maurice, all served to point fingers of accusation at the pathetic excuse for a human being. Of course, she had been aware of the man's actions at least a little before the elf had called out for vengeance, but this most recent bit of information she had further delved into to acquire put all the pieces into their rightful place. The scum had to die. Morguen would also have gone after the ingrate Igor as well, but the girl's request didn't actually involve any mention of him, so reluctantly the being of death had had to let that aspect go, as unfortunate as it was.

So now the Fury waited in darkness, a grim look settled firmly on her features, the markings on her face seemed also darker as well momentarily as she lay in wait, like a tiger poised to lash out at its prey. Only Morguen was far from being a tiger, she embodied the concept of death itself. And that's what this man would get. Death, and at her hands no less.