Marilynn and Manssen
Mannsdale Projects is one of those few communities that have a penchant in silence. The quiet neighborhood barely has any crime to speak of and the local gang there pretty much keeps to themselves. Families live there in quiet one to two story houses, they live their lives in an almost regimented fashion, the kids go to school, the parents are either off to work or shopping and when all that’s done they meet back for dinner later and watch TV until they are tired and go to sleep to repeat the cycle again the next day.All and all every household shares that pattern but one, and this one is the strangest; the house at the far end of Mannsdale was the talk of most families around the dinner table.
The owner of the house always had the shades drawn, some heavy curtain really that would block out the sun. The owner never collected the morning paper, he never mowed the lawn, never really added any touches to the house that would prove it was being lived in, but it was. Some of the talk around the dinner tables of the various families was that the owner in question was a man, and he did leave the house but only at night. No one really saw him mind you, at that late hour it was rare to find anyone up. Some though would, the ones that couldn’t get to sleep for whatever reason would stop and listen to the revving of a car engine and then the squeal of tires as whoever was driving tore into the night. No one knew what the man looked like and more importantly no one wanted to know.
The part of the house that no one ever got to see was the interior, inside was a state of disuse that was only magnified by the dust. Sofas, chairs, appliances, countertops and so forth all covered in a thick layer of dust, every room suffered the same fate. Nothing lived there as the rats and roaches gave up long ago trying to find anything edible. The floors were a dull dust color that was broken up by a pattern of footsteps that led to the basement.
The basement was a whole different story, a starking contrast to the dusty disuse upstairs. Here below there were relics, an old book, a well used chair, a cozy fireplace. Paintings graced the walls of the sitting room and the rug that covered the floor was a deep red. The only other room in the basement was the bedroom and that was where the man the neighbors speculated about was in right now, under satin purple covers.
He laid his head back down on the pillows as he hung up the phone, an annoyed sigh coming from his lips as he thought for the millionth time he could have done things differently. With another agitated grunt he got out of bed quickly and found his clothes, no use in putting this off especially since the nature of the call sounded like it was something important.
It wasn’t everyday that Malphas was summoned, truth be told it was so rare that Malphas half believed that Merovingian forgot all about him. In a way that would have been a blessing for the aged vampire had the circumstances been a bit different, if the outcome of the rebellion had been different, he amended to himself and grimaced as he put on his coat and found his car keys. He walked up the old creaky stairs to the first floor, an expression of distaste on his face as he saw the dusty confines before heading to the back door of the kitchen. If my plans would have succeeded it would be me commanding Persephone not the other way around, he thought while opening the back door and stepping outside, I would have made her my bride and his chateau would have been mine as well, the “M” would have stood my name instead of that cursed Frenchman, now…
…now things are different
He lowered his head a moment before getting in his car, yes now things were different, as a wise old exile that loved a particular board game would say “the pieces have certainly found themselves in some interesting arrangements.” With a growl, Malphas sat inside his sports car and revved up the engine. Indeed it has, he thought with a measure of bitterness. His confederate in arms Ookami found her way back to the Merovingian’s good graces in a way, as did her pack. Only Malphas was sent away to an empty house and empty purpose. But that wasn’t all he thought angrily and pressed down on the gas pedal causing the car to squeal it’s tires while tearing out of the drive way. Making a hard right and heading for the highway he thought. That blasted upstart stole my place and even now laughs at my misfortune, he thought and although he couldn’t bring himself to say the name of the creature that he suspected had a hand in his downfall, he knew there would be a day when he would exact his revenge on him and everyone else…
With car now reduced to red tail lights in the distance, Mannsdale returned to the silence it was accustomed to, and its inhabitants once again slept under the starry night…
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The shotgun blast almost caught Barloke but fortunately for him he was able to sidestep the attacker and so it only shattered the window of the train car. Some way to make a living, Barloke thought as he brought his fist up to crash it into the masked man’s face, getting shot at like some jacklighted deer! The masked attacker crashed to the floor but not before Barloke snatched the shotgun out of his hands, and just in time too, three more of these masked men stepped into the car and were heading in Barloke’s direction. Barloke blasted all three using round after round from the shotgun, watching for a moment their guts sprayed and scattered all over the door they just came through. Just then the attacker he just dropped, kicked out with his legs and tripped Barloke to the floor.
The entire car was bullet and blood ridden, fortunately for Barloke it was his attackers that shed this evening’s blood, but this was becoming tiresome already. These “Cypherite” operatives so far had crashed the past three missions Barloke was on. Every one of the missions ended in a blood bath, but what Barloke couldn’t figure out was why they wanted to kill him so badly in the first place.
Tossing the shotgun aside, he struggled with the masked man on the floor of the car and as he struggled Barloke thought of the past three missions that ended like this. None of these missions had any connection to the Cypherites or a conflict of their agendas; in fact Barloke hardly had any contact from the Cypherites. So why are they after me? He thought as the Cypherite under him kneed him in the midsection. Barloke grunted and realized that while he was there thinking about this the Cypherite he was fighting with wasn’t about to stop fighting so Barloke could think this out. Barloke rolled on his back away from the masked man and got to his feet, just as the Cypherite was doing the same thing. Barloke ran towards the masked man and grappled him, putting the Cypherite into a headlock and pulled him to one of the car’s windows. The Cypherite for his part struggled as best as he could and with widened eyes saw where Barloke was taking him. Barloke mustered his strength and with one forceful heave pushed the masked man headfirst out the window, unfortunately for the Cypherite they were in a tunnel because his head was the only thing that made contact with the wall outside. The result was a smearing of blood and brain matter with a pattern that would have done Pablo Picasso proud.
Barloke let go of the body and saw that the train was slowing down, possibly reaching a stop which Barloke knew was going to have a platoon of MCPD waiting to sort out the mess. Not to stand on ceremony, Barloke made his way to the rear cars, at the last one he opened the car door and leaped off the train and ran down the darkened tunnels…
Later in the Real
“No I don’t know why I am getting chased down by these Cypherites! That’s why I am asking you!”
Barloke sat back in his pilot’s chair and looked at the screen with some exasperation. Phrack looked back and said “Look, I’ll ask around but it is very strange that they would be after you. I mean you work for the Merv after all and this would seem like bad business, besides” he chuckled “I thought these Cypherites were supposed to be after me!”
Barloke sighed “well whatever the reason it’s becoming more and more difficult to operate, I mean I was lucky I got the contact out of the train before they showed up, but I don’t know how lucky I am gonna be the next time.”
Phrack nodded “we’ll get some answers, see you soon buddy.”
“Later bro” said Barloke as the screen went to black.
Barloke got up and left the cockpit, he knew he was due back for another mission soon but for now he was going to get some sleep. With one last look at the instruments, he headed for his cabin hoping the next time he was in the Matrix he would get some answers…
cont.
Next chapter coming soon! Loved this photo of Malphas as he doesn't have the Bela Lugosi style of dress code and instead opted for some better wear! 