On the subject of knife-staking... a brain-stab should kill pretty quick yes? Stab somebody through the eye, twist the knife around a bit, pull it out again, then do the heart-stake thing.
Also:
Keep the revolver. Ask Esme to help us assimilate some material on marksmanship before we go.
+1
"I've got several months worth of training. I'll just give you that." She says before directing you to sit down. You comply and she steps around to your right side and places her left hand on your head.
"Give me a second here...there we go."
Unlike the last time, with the crawling words and everything, this time you see phantom images scroll down her skin and leap into you with little flashes of light. You remember the training much like you remember the memories of the chicken: a disorienting layering of yourself and someone else. It s not as bad this time, your body isn't twisted into a non-human form but its still not YOU. Its shorter with different proportions and the thoughts...they're far more disorienting. You can tell Esme is attempting to keep the memories she's giving you tightly restricted to her training- there are vast black spaces between the times at the firing range or in drills- but other things leak out none the less. Opinions that you don't hold become yours in a transitory fashion. Regret about not scoring the highest, excitement about making it into the advanced marksman section, smug satisfaction about a special commendation pinned to your...her chest. And in there deeply, buried but glimpsed, are visions of Him. Nothing concrete, just sensory memories and the motivation to continue so that you...her...might see him again. Maybe. Maybe. His hand is in your hair. Its warm. Open fields. Smell of pollen and wheat. His shadow, sun at his back, details obscured.
"We'll all be together again soon, Es. You'll see."
Esme slaps you on the back and you struggle groggily out of the memory.
"Come on" she says, "I have to get ready. Go get your skeleton and that bayonet you want so much. Its in a cabinet, against the far wall over there, third drawer."
She moves upstairs and you stare after her for a few moments before following her instructions. The bayonet is where she said it was, a foot long tapering spike of solid and slightly rusted metal. You give it piecewise to hold and he again vanishes it somewhere up a coat sleeve. As you return to the main lobby area Esme comes back down the stairs. Her clothing is different: not some exaggerated commando gear but something much more suited to potential action than a long dress. Her hair is tightly bound up and hidden under a winter hat and she has replaced the dress with a long sleeved shirt and long pants. The shoes are utilitarian snow boots and once she dawns her heavy winter coat she becomes almost perfectly visually androgynous, as long as you don't get a good look at her face.
You follow her out the door - she talks in whispers to Nicholas for a moment - and together you walk down toward the docks. They're nearby and you take a trolley part of the way before hopping off, walking one way, doubling back and generally moving indirectly. Piecewise gets one or two odd looks but nothing huge. No one points and screams at least. By the time you reach the place the sun has fully set.
The location is just like she said it was a long road stretching straight down a double row of warehouse buildings. Its a bit larger than you expected though: the "alley" is actually about the size of a two lane road and is clearly designed for allowing trucks to access these warehouses. There are lights on every warehouse front but they're spaced far enough apart that these become nothing but small islands of light along an otherwise dark and secluded path. Between the warehouse buildings themselves are much smaller alleys, maybe 5 feet wide concrete strips, often crowded with discarded pallets and similar refuse. The warehouse buildings are a good 25, maybe 30 feet tall and there are ladders welded onto the sides of them that allow access to the roof; though there are sort of tube like structures at the tops of these ladders with locking hatches that prevent unwanted visitors from climbing to the top.
"We've got..." Esme checks her watch "About 30 minutes till the patrol is set to be here."
Author
Topic: The Left-Hand Path (Read 119415 times)