Thread: Of Spies and Whores {darkest_fate&DeRe}

The slow glow of numerous computer monitors lit up Enison's face. It was a peculiar, even goblinoid visage, rendered even more unattractive by the sickly blue light. A pair of bright, bulging, unsettling eyes darted about like a rat racing across a filthy floor. They saw everything at once, processing it rapidly behind a lightly wrinkled brow. Indeed, an impartial observer would have seen him as something of a rodent furtive and seedy, bent on ill-intent. His hands - stubby and blunt like clubs - worked with equal speed across a silent keyboard. All around a hiss of noise came from the various screens - idle chatter, sensuous sighs, bestial grunts - and from one a piercing shriek of terror. Enison cast his dead-fish gaze over to that particular monitor. Dispassionately he watched as a young woman was put to death in a particularly horrible fashion. The gruesome spectacle reflected against his glasses. Only a slight twitch at the side of his thin lips betrayed the pleasure he felt at the sight. I imagine she regrets her poor decision now , he thought absently, like someone on a beach watching as a swimmer drowned. Enison waited until the grisly scene was completed, then turned away as if it had been some trivial entertainment that no long enthused him. Instead, his attention focused on another view. Two stunning nubile girls were sitting in an anteroom, chatting absently to each other as if they were in a much more convivial setting. His aspect now took on more of the feline than murine, as he regarded the pair like trapped prey. This words barely registered he was more interested in their stunning faces and impeccable figures. The content of their conversation was of little concern, for he knew the real reason why they were there. These two were not just slices of fresh meat, delivered to his brothel for the delight of the customers they were a threat, infiltrating into a place so secret barely a handful of people in the world knew it existed. When he was a child - something he could barely remember now - Enison had owned a cat some spindly black thing that was more bone than animal. One day he had watched it torture a mouse to death, and found great pleasure at the sight. In time he began to catch mice purely to watch the beast destroy them, and found the thrill the same on each occasion. Eventually it has scratched him and he had throttled the thing in a moment of blind rage, but the delight he had taken from his cruelty remained with him forever. It had taught him a valuable lesson in how to make something suffer with the minimum of effort. Leaning over a console, he softly pressed an intercom button. Ms Wolf, it's Enison here. Our fine-limbed spiders have waltzed into the web. Would you be so kind as to meet me in the Scarlet Anteroom in a few moments? Thank you. The voice was soft, almost feminine, but with a nasal grate that gave it an almost subconsciously unpleasant edge. He then stood up and took a closely-tailored black Nehru jacket off a nearby hook, absently studying his reflection in a blank screen as he did so. There was a hint of vanity in his fastidiousness, as not even a hint of lint profaned his immaculate ensemble. Then with a peculiar, electric urgency he left the control room and proceeded through the winding, dimly-lit passages that surrounded it. After wandering through the labyrinth he entered the anteroom abruptly, catching the girls in mid-conversation. A smile decorated his face, but his sparkling small eyes were utterly without warmth. My apologies for keeping you waiting, ladies. You understand I am a busy man. No rest for the wicked, eh? Clapping his hands together he rubbed them vigorously, like a tradesmen setting about his tools. So, let's move the interview along quickly, shall we? Undress please, completely. You may leave your clothes on the table there. I do like to appraise the merchandise before settling on a deal.