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Post by Ebenezer Dingo on Jan 17, 2011 22:09:49 GMT -8
Day 4, morning
Cloudy, windy
Warnings for British idioms, concealed weapons, hats.
Starring Ebenezer Dingo, Harry Stewart, with special guest star Michael "The Tillot" Tillotson
It was a brisk, cloudy day as Ebenezer rolled his weathered land rover through the opened gate of the Stewart estate, just after the fatigued-sounding rhyming robot let him through gate.
It reminded Ebenezer of home, really. He did not linger on this.
So it seemed like his old friend was very well off. He was glad he had worn his old 'grant gathering' three-piece suit. He wouldn't seem quite so out-of-place.
"Well, this is a long, windy road," Ebenezer said to himself after five minutes up the 'driveway'.
To be fair, though, if Ebenezer had the money for a manor, he would have the same kind of driveway. Uphill, mostly, easy to roll boulders down the road to discourage invaders. Long, room for plenty of traps. The woods up at the top of the embankments would be perfect for an ambush or two.
Ebenezer was just in the planning the five-man ambush squads he would use when he finally reached the manor.
He parked in front of the stairs and knocked on the large front door. Ebenezer didn't believe in doorbells.
Well, he believed in them, he wasn't stupid, but he was against their use. "Stupid moon people don't need to know when doors were being opened," he muttered.
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Post by Mister Stewart on Jan 18, 2011 18:01:35 GMT -8
After just a moment, the door clicked and opened - with no one behind it - allowing Ebenezer into the small, clean little entry room. As always, besides the occasional wall hanging, it was largely empty - a little metal bin for umbrellas, a floor mat, a payphone on the wall, and a decorative vase or two were really the only adornments.
Another set of equally ornate double-doors were opposite the front doors, just waiting to be opened - behind them stood a much larger, more decorated room, completely round with couches set out around the edges. There were odd (yet tasteful) paintings adorning the walls, gigantic busts of wizened looking people that seemed to glare at Ebenezer as he walked in, and there was a white grand piano sitting on a round pedestal sitting in the center of the room.
In the midst of all of this, however, was a person - a young man wearing a spotless white suit, hands clasped behind his ramrod-straight back as he watched the guest enter. The rings beneath his eyes were very dark, and - it must be admitted - he looked...rather ill, despite his better efforts to keep a poker face. He said nothing.
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Post by Ebenezer Dingo on Jan 19, 2011 0:49:31 GMT -8
Ebenezer stared at the young man for a few minutes, waiting for him to say something. During this time, he adjusted his tie, took off his fedora and turned it around in his hands, glanced at the giant busts on either side of him -- probably the life-sized busts of giants, he noted -- and then finally said something.
"... Nice piano."
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Post by Mister Stewart on Jan 23, 2011 1:41:18 GMT -8
If the young man was glad to have the piano complemented, he certainly didn't show it. In fact, he winced a little when Ebenezer spoke, bringing a hand up to his temple - curiously, there were bandages wound around his palms. I am never drinking again, he thought to himself for the umpteenth time this morning. Trying to regain his composure, he walked around the piano, gingerly striking a weird chord (not a real chord, or at least, not one that sounded good) - and suddenly, the piano and the young man began to turn on the platform.
...Or perhaps the room was turning around it. It was rather hard to tell. When it stopped, there was a click from the door - a latch? - and the boy finally broke his silence...the voice of the 'rhyming robot' who had let the man in.
"Mister Stewart shall be waiting," he spoke - he was hoarse, his voice very quiet. He sized the man up for a moment, studying his manner of dress, before adding a comment of his own - "...You are...not quite what I was anticipating."
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Post by Ebenezer Dingo on Jan 23, 2011 19:05:06 GMT -8
"I get that a lot," Ebenezer said, still looking around the room.
He shrugged, and moved around the circular room, first tapping the eye of every bust; checking for cameras, of course. After his circuit of the room, he turned to the ill-looking young man.
"So, through here, then? Thanks, lad. Look after that cold, or flu, or whatever you have. I suggest hot tea. With near a cup of scotch and then match with coffee and vodka. Also hot sauce, if you have it. Try to swallow it in one gulp. That should chase away anything inside you. Or you'll be too passed out to care!"
Ebenezer went through the door, stopped halfway to crouch down and inspect the threshold, then moved on through the room.
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Post by Mister Stewart on Jan 24, 2011 18:27:29 GMT -8
The young man watched in silence as the man circled the room (what was he doing to the busts?), standing his vigil while he waited for Ebenezer to pass through. Suddenly, he was being addressed - and the suggestions that the stranger made made him look...suddenly rather green in the face.
Just after Ebenezer passed into the next room (the threshold bore a strange groove in it - presumably from whatever mechanism turned the room around, though the workings were largely covered by carefully-designed decorative wooden pieces), he could more than likely hear the hurried stagger back in the room behind him, then the sound of someone retching.
Michael grimaced once he was done vomiting, staring into the urn disdainfully.
Now he had something extra to clean up.
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The next room was, by contrast to the next room, perfectly square. On the wall behind him and the wall in front, there was no decoration - only the door behind him and a matching door in front. On the wall to his left, there was a lone music stand, a single sheet of paper resting upon it...and a large black steamer trunk, closed up, but not locked.
On the other side was...a bizarre arrangement indeed. A series of pegs for hanging hats...stretching from one wall to the other. Six per vertical column...stretching from one wall to the other.
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Post by Ebenezer Dingo on Jan 25, 2011 20:21:21 GMT -8
Ebenezer raised an eyebrow. He hated trunks that were closed but not locked. This was a big trunk, too. Big enough for one normal sized assassin or two small assassins.
An old rival in Japan had once hidden an assassin in a very similar steamer trunk, one that sprung out while Ebenezer was getting ready for bed.
Ebenezer pulled a concealed revolver from its holster, between his shirt and sports jacket. He held it ready and pointed at the trunk as his other hand worked the lid of the trunk open.
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Post by Mister Stewart on Feb 5, 2011 15:46:22 GMT -8
And in the trunk lurked....
HATS.
Hats of many types and varying descriptions. Cowboy hats, party hats, police hats, bowlers, top hats, dunce caps, fedoras - all manner of headwear, stacked and arranged neatly within the trunk.
No assassins this time, it seemed.
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Post by Ebenezer Dingo on Feb 7, 2011 14:33:53 GMT -8
Ebenezer eyed the hats warily. He holstered his revolver under his jacket. Keeping the lid of the trunk open, he drew an absurdly large knife from the other side of his jacket, stabbing into the trunk and making a pass of it with the sharp blade. He stabbed some of the larger hats, like the sombrero and chefs hat, a few times.
He decided to trust the hats for now, and pulled a bowler out to inspect it more closely.
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