Idle Hands

LordInqubus · 11/10/2006 05:54:43

Scene 1

Zion Operator: “Commander, an encrypted transmission from an unknown source has been received for your verification only.”

Lock: “Patch it through to my office and get me a trace on its origin.”

Somewhat perplexed, the commander strode to his office in his usual superior manner, barely acknowledging the salutes of the lower ranks as he passed by. Finally reaching his destination, he closed the door behind him as he maked his way to the monitor on his desk. “Niobe” he thought to himself. “She’s the only one I’ve given the access to for this type of transmission. She must have something important to relay to me”, a slight smile made its way to the corner of his mouth. His smile soon faded as the transmission came through.

It seemed to be visual only and of poor quality. Watching further, it was clear that this was footage of a security camera in a hotel’s hallway. It was centered on room 110 whose door was now being opened to have a male figure exit into the hall. The individual was of a larger build, had a gotee, and his gray hair was pulled back into what the commander could only guess was a tasteless top knot of a ponytail. The man straightened his tie before turning back to the open doorway to pull another individual from out of the darkened confines.

“Niobe…” The commander’s eyes shot wide as her image appeared on his screen.

Half dressed and disheveled, she stood in the doorway with her arms wrapped around the man in an embrace as she kissed him goodbye. Once their lips parted, Niobe retreated back into the hotel room while the mysterious individual lit a cigar retrieved from his cigar case before making his way down the corridor in the direction of the camera. Donning a leather trench and Prevea sunglasses, the man inhaled the cigar smoke deep, turned to face the camera, and smirked.

With an exhale of smoke that covered the camera lens, the transmission ended.

Silence filled the room as the commander sat motionless staring at the blank screen. A knock on the door broke the silence.

Lock: “Come!” he barked.

Zion Operator: “Sir, we’ve completed the trace on the transmission’s origin. It was sent from here.”

Lock: “From within Zion?!?”

Zion Operator: “F-f-from your office..., S-sir” he stammered

It wasn’t until that moment that the commander noticed the burned smell emanating from the partially smoked cigar snuffed out on the top corner of his desk.

Lock: In a low, constrained tone, he looked up at the flustered operator and said “Leave”.

The operator saluted, turned, and hurriedly left the office, closing the door behind him. Before he was able to take his first steps down the corridor, he was halted in mid stride as the sound of a desk being overturned and crashing to the floor reverberated from within the commander’s chambers.

Scene 2

The code is hidden in tumblers. One position opens a lock. Another position opens one of these doors. The particular door that is opened this night leads straight into Club Succubus, straight to the individual that She instructed Seraph to “invite”. Closing the door behind him, Seraph scans the room until he finds his objective. Folding his hands into his sleeves, he begins to walk slowly, purposefully through the din of music and the sea of bluepills on the dance floor, who are as oblivious to him as they are of their current situation. He makes his way to a table on the far side of the room occupied by several young, scantily clad ladies who are obviously unaware of how dangerous the gentleman is that sits between them. Through the cloud of smoke produced by his cigar and the ladies cigars, the gentleman finally acknowledges Seraph. An expression of both amusement and distain runs across his face. “Wingless! Long time no see! Got tired of helpin’ old ladies across the street, eh? Pull up a chair and get acquainted with my… new friends. Heh heh…”

Seraph: “Inqubus, your presence is requested. Please follow me.” At this, Seraph produces a large, silver keyring filled with keys from within his sleeves.

Inqubus: Shaking his head, half chuckling “You and your Backdoors, Seraph.” Staring at the door that Seraph entered from “And to think, all this time I thought that door was nothin’ but a broom closet. I’ll have to remember to take that down and brick it up. I can’t have you comin’ to fetch me away every time She feels like it.”

Blonde: “Aw, Inq… you’re not leaving, are you?” she said in a whining manner.

Brunette: “You were s’posed to show me how to blow smoke rings.”

Redhead: “You can’t leave yet. I just got my cigar lit” her doe eyes looking up at Inqubus pleadingly as she moved the cigar playfully across her lips

Inqubus: “Well, there ya have it. I’m needed here. So, how about it, Little Man? What say you and me slip these nice ladies some red pills?” a chorus of giggles arose from the group of ladies at this last statement.

Rising to his feet, Inqubus walked towards the motionless messenger and reached into his inside coat pocket.

Inqubus: “Smoke?”

Inqubus produces a cigar from his case only to have it drop to the floor as Seraph swiftly grasps Inq’s wrist.

Seraph: “I must insist. Please come with me”

Inqubus: “Alright, Little Man. I see you’re still holdin’ that grudge.” His wrist still in Seraphs grasp, Inqubus flexes his hand into a fist and holds his arm firm and unmoving. “Hoping to break that stalemate, are we? Heh heh… this should prove to be interestin’.” Taking one last drag from his cigar, he lets the burning filter fall to the floor. “Your move, Little Man”

The cigar is snuffed out.

Scene 3

The faint smell of baked cookies still lingered in the kitchen occupied by the Oracle who sat quietly, waiting. Staring at an empty box of matches and an ashtray full of cigarette butts, she rose to her feet wearily in search of more matches to light her last remaining cigarette. As she rummaged through the kitchen drawers, the sound of metal and flint striking tells her that she no longer needs the matches.

Inqubus: “Need a light?”

The Oracle turns to face Inqubus, a lit Zippo lighter in hand and a look on his face that would make it seem like he would just as easily use the lighter to burn the building down as he would light her cigarette. She finds the thought amusing, if not somewhat disturbing.

He lights her cigarette, as well as a cigar for himself.

Oracle: “Thank you, Inqubus. You can wipe that scowl off your face now. No harm will come to you here and I’m sure you don’t aim to harm us either, right?”

Inqubus: “You don’t have to worry ‘bout me.” Rubbing his arm and shoulder in a futile attempt to work the soreness out, “Your ‘helper’ already confiscated my weapons.” he sends a quick glare over his shoulder to Seraph standing quietly behind him.

Oracle: “Have a seat.”

Inqubus: “I prefer to stand, thank you. Oh, and I’ll pass on the dry cookies too.”

Oracle: “Well, suit yourself. And by the way, there are no cookies. You missed that train by showing up an hour and a half late.” She eyes Seraph

Seraph: “I apologize, Oracle. We were… delayed.” He gives a slight glance towards Inqubus, placing a hand over the area on his coat that concealed his bruised ribs beneath.

Oracle: “I figured as much.” She said with a slight smile. “You’re a hard man to track down.” She takes a drag from her cigarette.

Inqubus: “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.” He takes a drag from his cigar. “I’m halfway through with this cigar. Once it’s done, we’re done. I’m a busy man.”

Oracle: “Yes, so I’ve noticed, especially in hotel rooms.” Her smile quickly fades, replaced with a look of disappointment “My, how you certainly have changed since the last time we spoke. I cannot foresee the outcome of the path you have chosen, but I fear that if you continue down that road, you may be forever lost.” She takes a drag from her cigarette.

Inqubus: “Spare me your insights and tarot card analogies. You obviously didn’t bring me here for milk and cookies and you most definitely wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble of having your butler come fetch me just ‘cause you ran outta matches. So, why am I here?” He takes a long drag off his cigar.

Oracle: “Bingo. That’s the $64,000.00 question, isn’t it? Why are you here? I’m afraid that until you can answer that question and understand it balls to bone, I can’t help you.”

She takes a drag from her cigarette.

“It seems that I was wrong about you, Inqubus. It’s not everyday that I’m wrong, but it happens from time to time. Seraph, please return his belongings and show him the way out. I must seek out a more… receptive individual. ”

Inqubus hesitantly accepts the arsenal of weapons and holsters them away. Not sure if he should be concerned about his own self uncertainty or even more concerned for the Oracle’s uncertainty.

Inqubus: “I can find my own way out, thanks.” He takes a drag from his cigar and turns toward the apartment door, but before he can take a step, the Oracle speaks.

Oracle: “Why in such a hurry to get back to your Mistress? How will she react once she finds out about the little stunt you pulled this afternoon at the hotel? Do you think she’ll feel inclined to share that information with her husband, your employer? What else do you suppose might she mention about you?”

Reaching under his coat, Inqubus turns to face the Oracle only to have himself staring down the barrel of Seraph’s pistol.

Oracle: “It’s alright, Seraph. He’s lost, not stupid. You may put your gun down.”

Inqubus: “Yeah, Little Man… why don’t you go baby-sit somebody else. I’m sure you can find yourself some cookies that need tastin’. Heh heh”

Seraph lowers his gun with reluctance as Inqubus slowly removes a disk from under his coat.

Inqubus: “You should really get your crystal ball checked. This is a copy of the transmission I sent to ‘Dead Bolt’ and I’m sure you don’t need your magic 8 ball to tell you who I’m delivering it to. She has a vast collection that I like to keep well stocked.”

With a final drag off his cigar, Inqubus flicked the burning remains in the general direction of Seraph with a smirk and exited the apartment leaving the door swinging open.

Oracle: A slight smile escaped her lips “I didn’t see <em>that </em>coming…”
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