November 5, 2009
1:06 A. M.
Labyrinth Security Prison, Portland, Oregon
“Good morning Solomon. I’m afraid it’s a bit early; you’ll have to forgive me one last time for that.”
The bearded gentleman stirred in his bunk, his empty cell causing him to quickly find the one thing that was different as he lifted his head and looked around him. Standing inside, leaning on his study desk, was the sharply dressed form of James Moriarty. The man had honestly begun to believe he’d never see the Napoleon of crime ever again.
Yet here he was, a dark suit this time with crimson gloves holding a slender blade. Not a good omen, though one that the man knew was coming to him for a long time.
“So. Today is the day?”
“You made a promise. I intend to keep it. Besides, it’s not like you’d last long in the real world. The way this country is about Muslims… you’d be lynched before you saw the next election.”
The man nodded, having accepted this reality long ago. Tossing his legs over his bed one last time, uncaring if he messed up the sheets, the man knelt on his prayer mat as he put his hands on his knees, preparing to praise his god one last time as he requested
“May I say my last words?”
“Normally I’m willing to indulge in such a thing, but I already know the disposition of your soul. You have nothing to ask forgiveness for, Solomon. You might as well just talk to Allah face to face as the prophets did. You’ll find it to be quite enjoyable.
“Besides, I have a bit of a schedule. I only have about twenty-eight other people I have to kill today. Only reason why I came so early.”
“I understand. Do it.”
James Moriarty stepped around the kneeling man, watching as Solomon’s eyes closed with indifference. Flipping his tactical knife a few more times from his cover, careful as the Muslim raised his arms into the air, it would have been quite the sight for the security camera to see if it hadn’t been turned off by a bribed guard.
So with nothing to trace him, James uttered his own quick prayer… before he dispatched the man in one quick motion, sending Solomon to the ground with his throat split open in one single, crimson line.
No reason to waste good blood though, the man’s neck steaming instead of profusely draining. A moment later, as James fake contacts broke under the strength of the vampiric eyes beneath, Moriarty gave off a red glow that matched the shade of his organic eye, growing in luster and light until the whole of the cell was lit up as if it was Christmas.
Then he was gone, the whole room going dark in an instant as if Moriarty had been swallowed up by his own light. That is when the blood truly flowed, Solomon leaving his final mark in his cell as the whole of the floor began to be swallowed.
Times of Peace: Volume 1 of the side adventures to The Mercenary's Salvation Page 49
