Joshua Reiny glanced at his watch again - 2:24 AM. The car would be arriving soon, and that was good. He was twitching and fiddling from adrenaline. Glancing down the deserted street, Josh frowned. Six minutes.
Several times he imagined the black limousine pulling up - a stealthy synthetic specter - beside him. It's headlights would lacerate the black veil of gloom and also seem to gaze into his very soul.
That was laughable. There was no such thing as a soul - or so they told him. Soul's were erroneus things conjured by the minds of men to insure safety after death. To increase morale. He was glad he didn't have one.
The limousine would sit there impassively, beckoning him to open the door - that final portal leading to - what, exactly?
The door to power. The door to wealth. And maybe, just maybe... the door to redemption. Because he knew that the thing reclining within the limousine could grant it to him - if it wanted. And if he presented himself accordingly, because that was the clincher. Presentation was everything.
And what would happen after that? He wondered. He pondered.
This liaison was several weeks in orchestration - and finally it was transpiring. This pleased Josh, in an ambivalent way; he was anxious, apprehensive. And yet he was exalted to finally present himself. Moreover, he was pleased to have actually been considered. To think he, Joshua H. Reiny, was undoubtedly scribed onto his agenda.
It was dark out; the sky an endless void of soot, the street equally dark - in fact, now that Josh noticed - everything here seemed to be black, but that was okay. He was used to the darkness. Someone might say that he liked it.
None of that mattered now.
Physically, Joshua Reiny was your average everyman. His height was fair, build nondescript, his face was round and florid. Unkempt dirty blond hair dusted across his stern countenance, halting at the eyebrows. Joshua's nose was shapely and prominent - his most definitive feature. One would not deem it large, but it was the focal point of his face. Brown wells of depression and moral malaise, Josh's eyes possessed no radiance, as some do. These were brooding, dark, monotone; abysmal pits devoid of vitality.
But radiance wasn't a necessity in this world. Money was. And influence. Components he could attain, he assumed... If his presentation was flawless.
2:29 AM - soon. Too soon. Disquietingly soon. Josh inhaled silently, experiencing the final seconds before his fate... or whatever was in store for him. The rain had abated to a degree - and though it still poured in sheets, it was less abrasive. Josh favored this, but only spitefully because he knew in mere seconds he would be enclosed within the black limousine, making a deal. What deal, you say? The biggest fucking deal... because it concerned him. He called the shots, he pulled the strings, and he was the key to the life of luxury.
Immersed in his thoughts, Josh was completely oblivious to the elongated car which pulled up beside him - at the precise incriment his watch switched to 2:30. The meticulousness wouldn't have abashed Josh, had he seen. After all, he only hired the most adept, elite chauffeurs.
The car glided up silently - a stealthy synthetic specter - it's headlights lacerating the thick black gloom of the night. The only sounds were the autonomic drone of the windshield wipers, the array of raindrop reports, and the nearly inaudible idling motor. It sat there, beckoning to him.. and finally, he delved into sentience. He jumped as he caught sight of it - a paroxysm of surprise. Oh shit, Josh thought, time to get the show on the road. The continuum of time had frozen, everything suspended in limbo before he laid his hand on the cool stainless-steel handle of the car.
Presentation presenation oh fuck don't let me screw up the presentation.
Hand trembling, Joshua Reiny opened the door to his destiny.
Eyes, stigmatized by the garbled greenish tint of night vision goggles, observed clandestinely as the blonde-haired guy stood at the street corner. He looked timid, weak. Vulnerable. The eyes noted this, but only with passing interest. That fool was not the objective. The other was... the one who would be arriving soon, if the source was credible.
From their perch, those eyes - and their owner - had superior vigilance relating to the situation. The observer was recumbent, brandishing a long, black, metallic shaft with both hands. A cylindrical spectrum was melded into the top of the shaft, and the observer was looking through it now. Two paralell lines intersected each other as the ambiguous one peered through the glass viewfinder- and the epicenter of the two marks were directed at the man's head.
Perfect. You stay right there, beautiful, and maybe after I fry the big fish I'll drop you in the skillet too.
The watching enigma was doubting if he would actually make an appearance; fuck knew how many assassins and bounty hunters were yearing to bring him down. Surely a mere disciple would be ordered to do the dirty work - and bring the man on the street below - to the proper destination.
And if that was the case, the sniper was out of luck.
The only option was to wait.
Josh was momentarily blinded by the lights which illuminated the limo's interior. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, his pupils to shrink.
What he beheld was luxuriantly upholstered leather bench seats - black, of course - fuzzy carpeting (also black). A light was situated in the center of the ceiling, and it's glare enchanted the space with long, tenebrous shadows.
The windows were tinted to an impregnable inky stain, completely obstructing undesireable espionage. A phone was placed neatly in a niche on the left side of the bench seat, along with a mini bar sporting a few bottles of what appeared to be high quality, vintage wine. Josh snorted with incredulity - although it didn't really astound him. He knew beforehand the inside would be ornate. After all, he rode in it.
Taken aback by the elaborate array of gadgets in the limo, Josh just now noticed the man sitting in the far corner of the bench seat. He was regarding Josh with an amused expression, his legs crossed nonchalantly. His hand was thrown casually about the top of the seat. Josh observed the man to be attired in an immaculate black suit, complimented with round, rimless shades. In their mirrored lenses Josh glimpsed his own pallid complexion. The reclining enigma had long, jet black hair falling at mid-neck level - his white face was slender, exquisitely featured, and without blemish or anomaly. His lips were full and red.
But there was something else about him, an unknown sensation which tickled Josh's consciousness - what was it? It felt like... insanity. Because the way that guy was staring at him may have been welcoming on the outside, but underneath.. he sensed hunger, and he was sure that beneath those sunglasses, the eyes blazed red...
Then it was gone. The man's grin became almost benevolent, he gestured for Josh to seat himself. "Come," the dark haired apparition coaxed, "it's a tit bit nipply out, wouldn't you agree?" At that the man threw his head back and laughed - a strange howl which chilled Josh to the bone. "We've got work to do, business to conduct, places to go. Eh, Josh? Busy, busy, busy as a bee." The stranger, without leaning forward to survey the outside surroundings, added: "We are not alone. Step inside and close the door, if you would." He said this jovially, as if it didn't really concern him.
Thunderstruck, Josh began to crane his head around when he felt a sharp stab of pain sear across his forehead. He almost shrieked with surprise, but he didn't dare. What would that other fellow do to him? When he looked back to monitor his strange new acquiantance, he was still staring as pleasently (or not so pleasently, depending on what you're perspective is) as before. "Sorry about that, Joshy boy. Just get in. You'll be fine."
Joshua Reiny started to sit down.
Now!
The urgent exclamation bolted across the sniper's cerebral window. The blonde was talking to something inside the limousine - and the sniper's usually ironclad psyche jumped at the notion that he- whatever or whoever that really was - could be there. Sitting. Talking. The very supposition transcended far beyond the sniper's comprehension... to think, all those urban legends, myths and propoganda circulating about the world. They could be true.
Impossible.
Faltering only briefly, the sniper finally decided to take action. The interior of the limousine was still obstructed by the ceiling (okay, so maybe he didn't have superior vigilance) - but he thought he might get lucky if he sent a volley of bullets through the rear window. Bulletproof glass? No problem. The sniper faced his caper choosing all the essentials - and perhaps exceeding them only a little. All precautions had been taken - the highest armor piercing rounds available on the market (and otherwise, for that matter. He had connections, naturally.), night vision/infared spectrum goggles complete with built-in gas mask; full kevlar jumpsuit capable of deflecting all known small-arms fire.. and finally, to garnish the impressive plethora of assassination apparatus... was his absolute favorite, the creme de la crop... the A-18 aerial self propulsion prototype - a jetpack, in more mundane terms. It's premise was cumbersome and hefty enough; two titanium-steel alloy cylindars juxtaposed with one another, augmenting a hand control umbilisized to the main unit by means of a wire. But the metallic hunk insured the sniper with a clean escape, which would be mandatory for engaging his forces. Or pray tell, the man himself.
Enough of that. Get down to the shooting and blood, right?
Succeeding the sniper's brusque- but reassuring- synopsis of his criteria, he focused in on the limo's rear window so that the convergence of the crossairs pointed it's finger of lethal blame at the proper spot - the window's center. Positionally, it might be incorrect... but this shot would just be made to obliterate the bothersome sheet of glass. After that, the fun would start.
Clenching his teeth, the sniper fired.
As his buttocks met the plush, yielding leather seat, Josh found himself once more unnerved by the expression on his contemporaries visage. No, not that expression of false benignity - but one of thoughtful contemplation. Somehow this upset him quite a deal more.. because it was impossible to articulate what was transpiring behind that fellow's iniquitous face. He didn't broach the subject,though. Broaching any subject would only commence after the dark haired man's approval.
The axis of Josh's thought raised a hand, palm out, towards the rear window. His decadent grin had returned, somehow, without Josh noticing. "Nothing to worry about, just a little bother to be disposed of before we embark. Shouldn't take but a second."
There was a subdued report as the sniper's weapon discharged in his hands. God bless the suppressor, he mused, else I might by fryin in the pan myself.
The bullet flew it's trajecory as he had known it would, but when it arrived at it's destination, no appreciative, resonant glass breaking sound awarded his efforts. The projectile took a completely unprecedented change of direction. The sniper would've testified before a court of law that he saw the bullet stop in mid air. Just halt entirely, hanging there suspended in space. It reversed the desired path and flew straight back through the air.
The bullet careened through the metallic gunbarell, and into the chamber. It might've stopped there, had a less abrasive round been choosen while preparing for this ordeal.. but alas, it prooved to be the assassin's stalwart determination to proove his undoing. Why oh why didn't he opt for the weaker bullets? He couldn't have changed the past, in any case - and the sniper's mind reviewed none of this as the bullet sped it's inexorable way through the gun. He was allowed only a curt milisecond of thought before it was eradicated by the bullet intended to end worldwide tyranny.
On a rooftop above a street corner, a sniper clandestinely surveyed his enemy and stealthily attempted to destroy that enemy. The bullet traveled through the stock of his gun and cranium, cutting a swath of leaden destruction through his brain.
Nobody heard the blood splatter.
Josh glanced at his strange new superior, although trying to maintain an expression of utter relaxation and placidity. What resulted was a garlbled jumble of emotions.. most of them inauspiciously thrown there, but he didn't know his efforts were in vain.
The fact that Josh was oblivious to the gunshot pleased our new friend - don't worry, folks, a name is on it's way. He'd known from the very start that Reiny would be rather slow.. but zealous as well, determined. And if he delivered well enough, the owner of the limousine elected, he would bestow the desired perquisites.
With the door finally shut and himself comfortably seated, the sensation of inertia churned Josh's stomach for a moment.. then relented. For all he knew, they were marauding through the dank streets on a membrane of air, the ride was that smooth. Unlike his own car, where the suspension creaked and moaned as it traversed even miniscule fragments of asphalt.
He had been down in Hades before, but now he was on an ascension to Mount Fucking Olympus.
"Now," the tenor of the dark-haired man broached, "I think a small explanation is in order, Joshua. Don't you?" Those sensual lips parted in that loathable grin - revealing large white teeth.
Nodding and offering a spiteful ghost of a smile, Josh gestured with his hand, seeming to say Go right ahead.
The madman in the mirrored sunglasses preached, "You're here to conduct a bit of business with me, Joshua, very important business. I realized that when you contacted my associates, which is why I elected to personally see this through. I know that there are many assumptions about me Joshua, to put it lightly. Very lightly. But I'll hope you disregard my renown for the duration of this deal." He paused, stroking his chin as if to emphasize elaborate consideration. "You can call me Lucas. That's close enough for our purposes.
"But to the more prosaic; arrival at my complex will be fairly soon, and proceeding that we'll head to my... suite," Lucas's grin peeled from his set of gleaming teeth, transforming his face into a narrow grimace. "And I know you'll like it there."
The opaque landscape blurred by, a blotch of ink on the canvas of reality. Josh Reiny watched it only because it was the habitual passage to his, Lucas's, complex.
There were rumors about that, too. Inexplicable ones much like it's resident... but Josh thought it better if he disregarded those, at least for now. Fretting would only exemplify his anxiety.
From beside him, a hollow pop resounded. Blinking back from his land of Nod, Josh glanced to observe what it was. Lucas had taken a bottle of champagne and popped the cork off.
"I thought you might like a drink to ease the, ah... tension. Mmm?" Lucas raised his eyebrows signifying hospitality and generocity.
"Sure," Josh affirmed.
"There's a good boy." Ghoulish grin never faltering, Lucas poured an elloquent wine glass with the glimmering beverage. "I find I, myself, can always relax after a glass of wine or champagne." He extended his arm, offering the drink to Josh, who took it... not wthout timidity. Lucas, with his eager, ubiquitous eyes, saw this. Or sensed it. "My friend, there's no need to worry so much. Everything will be as fine as paint."
Josh nodded submissively, pursing his lips, parting them just before he allowed the liquid fire of the champagne to trickle down his dry throat. As it slid easily downwards, a sensation of deep, guttural fervor spawned in Josh's stomach. Suddenly he felt more at ease, as if the burden of worlds had been hefted from his shoulders. A faint smile graced across his lips. "This is... great," he marveled.
"Isn't it? Just a little concoction of my own creation," Lucas said, looking almost inadvertently at the bottle. "Occassionally the impulse to create something arises-" from the corner of his eye, he regarded Josh for a moment before looking at the bottle again -"you know what that's like, don't you?"
"Of course." Josh didn't, though. Not really. In fact, he couldn't have cared less, because all he wanted to do was please the man affecting the reflective glasses. He needed to please. Nothing else mattered.
"Almost there," Lucas supplied, while retracting the sleeve enveloping his white arm to consult a watch. From the corner of his eye- Josh only caught a curt glimpse of it- was the black face of the timepiece, augmented by green phosphorescent numerals. "I'd say about another five minutes."
Josh nodded again - that seemed like the only thing he could do. Nod and affirm whatever Lucas said. If his mind had been functioning properly, Josh might have deduced the possibility of the champagne being drugged... but so what? If the drink was drugged... the effect was sublime.
A subtle metallic tint brought him to attention; Lucas had taken a cigar from a rectangular tin container. The pale effigy was observing it serenly, lips pursed, rotating it in his grasp as if it were some alien relic, or a talisman of some profound signifigance. A moment of awkward silence elapsed before he touched the tip of it with his index finger. The plump wand of cancer began to smoulder and glow with hot embers at it's end. Lucas, with an indulgent smile playing about his lips, took a long drag from it. His eyes narrowed to slits as he tasted it, perhaps considering the quality or vintage. As he exhaled, serpentine tendrils of smoke billowed from the serated maw of impeccable teeth. A pungent aroma permeated the room.
"Not bad," he conceded with a fastidious twinge lurking in his voice, "could use a little more zest, though." Chuckling, Lucas enclosed his fist on the cigar until the radiant ashes ground into his flesh. He didn't seem to notice or care. The grinning, phantasmal man dropped the smoking cigar remnants on the carpet without so much as a second thought.
Several minutes later, the feeling of inertia eased itself to a fluid stop. Josh felt vaguely bitter at this; he had actually been enjoying the trip, albeit after that swig from the champagne glass....
Lucas clapped his hands together exuberantly. "Ah," he remarked, "here at last. Come now, Joshua my good fellow; time hinders for no one." He halted fleetingly, scrutinizing his own remark. "Almost no one." The door opened and he got out - it didn't strike Josh as odd that nobody had done it for him. Plenty of other wonders had transpired, he decided, wonders much greater than a door allowing passage of it's own accordance. Also, he added as an afterthought, the real miracles have yet to be worked.
His door did not open by some mystical force; he yanked the handle and exited the steel coach manually.
Looming before him was an enormous building; rearing it's bulk and transcendent height to the heavens. The monolith was studded with opal windows that completely engrossed it, lined in meticulous rows until the tip - which was just barely discernible. And in those windows the bleakness of the world was rebounded upon him; the torrential downpour (which had picked up again. The steading thrumming crescendo had evaded Josh within the limo), the dark sky, and the other buildings which seemed pathetic and stunted in comparison to the behemoth before him.
It's entrance was a conclavity, supplying salvation from the downpour before dual rotating doors. They twirled hypnotically, yet not a soul was present. I have to go in there?Josh thought, oh, great. Didn't think it would be this weird."
As if on que, the jocose voice of Lucas chimed in: "It really isn't that bad. You haven't even seen the inside yet... but that's to come soon enough." The strange man had been behind Josh, and now he began to walk at a brisk stride towards the building. "Come on, then. And do try to keep up."
Somehow, Josh did.
After hurrying through the perpetually twirling doors (Josh found that their revolutions weren't so fast as to hinder his entrance, or, God forbid, ensnare him) the two men were enclosed in a sparsely lit, vast lobby. Above them several chandeliers were suspended by golden chains; although they were not illuminating any righteous light. Probably there for the decor, Josh mused. But when his view shifted idly back up the cieling was barren. This did not surprise him.
Haunting the room, a nearly palpable gloom bestowed the endless lobby with a claustrophobic feeling; Josh's sinuses seemed congested, eyes teary. Each footfall evoked a brisk click on a tiled floor of alternating black and white checkers. Situated to the far right was a long counter against a marble wall - to Josh it appeared to be some sort of check-in terminal, for sitting behind the desk was a woman gawking raptly at a computer screen. Lucas didn't even grant her a passing glance, however, the dark-haired man (who was much taller than Josh had first surmissed) strode unperturbed right past her. Josh followed obediently, as a loyal hound might shadow his master on a hunt. Senses still bleary with the sedative coarsing through his veins, Joshua Reiny had not glimpsed their particular destination until now: stainless steel elevator doors. Eyeing them wearily, he found that the nervous aprehension and mingling eagerness had receded to sheer dread.
That's it, then. Through those doors and up.... up to whatever might be at the top. God fuckin help me.
Somehow divine intervention didn't sound too promising.
Inside the elevator was bleak and sterile; rusty red walls, adnorned by a control panel of weakly luminated buttons - one of which Lucas pressed almost daintily. Lacing his hands on his abdomen, he enquired, "Excited?"
"W-"
"Of course you are. Just think of what you're about to get into, my tipsy friend!"
Josh did, and not astonishingly that was the chief factor in his mounting distaste and fear. Who really knew what the possibilities were? Nobody. What were his chances of attaining what needed to be attained, establishing a flawless presentation? Slim. And what grisly fate would undertake him if the failure occured? Something not good. Death, probably.
And yet, that hardly seemed the most prosaic of the questions which trundled in Joshua Reiny's mind at that very moment: that was What will he do to me?
"You know, I wish I was given potential like this way back when," Lucas addressed Josh. The madman's reflective shades glinted a pinprick of light at Josh's eyes, which caused him to wince. "Back in the days of the Old Testament, you might say-" once again, Lucas opted to amend his sentence after he had spoken it -"of course, nobody really believes in that old shit, do they?"
No answer.
"Absolutely not." A synthesized tone emanated from a speaker ingrained on the cabin's cieling, signifying the end of the ascent.
Josh was glad.
The doors retracted without effort to permit the two occupants the entry of a spacious suite. The floor was an immaculate glassy surface of jet black opal.. so meticulously polished that walking on it was like traversing a solidified night sky. A small flight of stairs (of the same opalescent sheen) glorified the desk which sat at the end of the room like a corporate altar - a twisted shrine devoted to the god of corrption, perhaps.
And it was.
Alingned along the end of the penthouse were the same windows Josh had witnessed from outside the skyscraper, only now they were tinted to the point of inpregnable obliquity.
Juxtaposed on either side of the straircase were imposing potted plants easily surpassing six feet in height; they seemed to sway and pulse as if in sync with some inaudible yet euphonic rhythm.
"Great, isn't it?" Lucas was meandering into the suite, but marveling it as he did so; as if discovering it's unusual ambiance was a new prospect. Sparing his desk a brusque glance, he chuckled as though hearing a witty anecdote. "I told Maria to put a cup of coffee on my desk for when I returned, but I guess the stupid bitch just plum forgot," he tittered. "I'll deal with her later, though, Josh." Under those contemptuous shades, Josh imagined the eyes of Lucas narrowing to sly little slits. "We've got work to do. Right?" The incisors of a masquerading predator sparkled fiercly despite the lack of lighting appliances in the room.
Still grinning that ghoulish grimace, Lucas hopped up the small flight of stairs in one deft motion, ambled to the deified desk, hopped over that (it was an incredible feat to behold - even the intoxicated Josh could recognize that) and plopped down in a leather upholstered swivel chair. The man's legs crossed atop the desk's top, entwining each other in a very practiced, graceful gesture. Lucas now appeared what he really was: a self-indulgent corporate figurehead settling down to a lovely evening of entertainment.
"Mmkay. Wow me."
The time for being discreet had past for Joshua Reiny; had departed probably long before. He failed to recognize it, for the everyman wasn't particularly adroit at intuiting social situations. He knew enough, however, to stop abstaining and get on with it.
Mind cleared and left acutely tuned in the painful wake of the sedative, Josh cleared his throat. A trite way to prolong time, he knew, but it was the only effort he could conjure at the time. Hell, for all he knew he was getting demerited by Lucas every moment of his stall.. but he couldn't let himself come to terms with that.
A little introductory drivel should get the gears churning: "Well, sir, let me first begin by saying I'm glad you found the time to see me, and that you'd even consider this interview." He expected some sort of droll quip, but there was only silence. Lucas was statuesque, projecting an unwavering vibe of sincerity. "And, ah.. without further adieu, this is why I'm your man for the job." He tried not to let his nervousness manifest, but two fists clenched tightly. What was that, involuntary jointal lockup? Offering a grin to appease his judge, Josh glanced back down at his hands, those fucking stubborn things. Oodles of mental will were consentrated to alleviate the problem, but to no avail. Tendons and cords stuck out in prominent view. His knuckles were skeletally white.
Christ in a goddamn clownsuit! Open you fucking things, or he'll fucking kill me!
Looking up, Josh found that Lucas was no longer sitting at the desk, rather, on the cieling. That inexplicable, leering grin had resurfaced, more poignant than ever. The white ghoul's face mocked him with a smug and saneless polish; his arms were extended, displaying the complete breadth of his armspan, palms flat-faced. The sitting position of a Hindu deity, it looked. And, dear God, was that a flame hovering above his right hand?
Josh shrieked, reeling backwards at the disturbing phantasm. His feet fumbled and contorted for purcahse, but gravity overwhelmed the pitiful struggles - he fell on his ass. Pain was immediate, but distant - as if the connection was shifty, obstructed.
Oh Christ oh Jesus oh Christ oh Jesus he'll kill me.
"Something the matter, Joshy boy?" the jovial voice of Lucas chimed, from behind the desk. "See something a trifle upsetting, did you?" Head propped in his hands, the fiend's face was stretched into a horrid caricature of it's former stature. "Don't let it bother you, pal, stuff like that happens all the time around here, believe me."
Befuddled, transcended, and still trying to compute the sensory input which had so quickly been perceived, Josh was little more than able to utter a series of strangled, affirming grunts.
"Well, that sets me straight." Lucas dropped his hands from his face in a movement so quick it was a nebulous marage of white, planted them firmly upon the desk's hardwood surface for leverage, and vaulted clean over the furnished obstacle. He was before Josh in the blink of an eye. "Well, how do you feel?"
Uncomprehending, thought strains joscled by what he saw - or thought he saw - no response could have been managed. Josh was, in almost every sense of the word, tongue-tied.
Lucas continued as though he had recieved the auspicious response. "Why, for winning, my boy! You got the job!"
In an abrupt strike, the viselike clamp of Lucas's hands shot onto Josh's shoulders and bore into his flesh. It was brief, but in the timeframe physical contact was established, the sensation of infinite strength was undeniable. It was world-crushing strength; it was titanic might, it was.... it was....
Gone.
Lucas propped Josh up as easily as a child animating a plush animal, and then the zeal of a legion of lost souls dissipated. The harnessers of that prodigous vigor floated down until they were limp and benign. One of them idly fished in a pocket.
"I must congradulate you, Sarge, 'cause nobody's given me a time like you have. Not for a while, anyway." The sought item brooding in the depths of Lucas's pocket was finally located, and revealed. A fountain pen. "Here's the deal; I give you the paperwork, you sign it, we all live happily ever after. Hey hey, what do you say?" Several sniggers bubbled out, but the feral howl which Josh had first cowered from during the limo escapade, thankfully, did not resound.
I'm not so sure, was what Josh wanted to say, but what escaped his traitorous mouth was actually: "Kay."
Lucas promptly thrust a sheet of paper into the semi-sentient face of Josh. "Okay, I'll make this easy for you, pal," Lucas instructed, as a teacher may speak to a mentally maladroit student, "just take the pen in your hand like so"- a patronizing hand gripping a pen came into Josh's peripheral view- "and sign here," Lucas emphatically tapped the line meant for a signature- "and that's it." He was smiling his ineluctable smile, but this time there was a hint of tension in it, almost fear. The pen was forced into Josh's hand.
Josh's vacant gaze swept the paper. The print was infinitesimal, impossible for him to discern. However, one word stood out (or one word he thought stood out, the characters were jumbled and oblique, almost as if they altered the instant he made sense of them) was soul.
