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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Breakdown - 18. 17 Machinations

Cam woke with a little bit of a hangover. His eyes felt like they were too big for their sockets, and he could feel his heartbeat hammering away in them. Aziel was nowhere to be seen, his blue bag and burgundy-stained suit gone with him. It was like he was never here at all. Were it not for the burning sting in his arm, Cam could have very well convinced himself that he imagined the whole thing.

He moaned painfully and rolled over. The world had a peculiar shimmer to it when he opened his eyes, like all the edges of things were glowing. It was disturbing, but at the same time, Cam didn’t much care. Finally, that rising force of anxiety in him had been quelled. He knew it would return, but for now it was just a distant memory, like a rocky island that under a high tide.

Curious metaphor, Cam had heard it somewhere before. He squinted his eyes, looking up at the ceiling. He raised a hand upwards, as if to touch the shimmering edges of the light fixture, and then let his hand fall back. What was the book that used that metaphor? Was it something that he had read in class?

Tiredly, Cam sat up with a groan. He glanced around the room, and then shuffled towards the bathroom. The bathmat was damp from the night before. There was a rumpled towel that must have been Aziel’s, and another fresh one that Aziel must have gotten out for him. Cam found the gesture quite strange, and chuckled to himself as he turned on the hot water.

The steam did a world of good for his peculiar hang over. When he emerged from the glass doors, Cam felt like a new person. The glowing shimmer was mostly gone from his vision. He dressed in his street clothes and grabbed his book bag. He had two hours before class, but he thought he’d go early and maybe get a coffee.

Cam didn’t notice that he was being watched as he left his penthouse suite.

He locked the door, checked it once, and then proceeded to the elevator. He was looking at the glowing numbers, counting down to the bottom floor. His mind was already a million miles away from the events of the night before, and the devil that made it possible.

Aziel emerged from around the corner. He smiled to himself as he approached the penthouse suite door, knowing that Cam would be gone for a few hours. He had left shortly after Cam had passed out the night before, completed his business, and then returned.

Turned out the man had given Aziel the correct number after all. It had been an account number. With his target’s body slowly dissolving in a tub of lye, Aziel was free to finish some other business before he went home to Mark. He found himself a little restless to get back home. This job had been one big mess from the beginning… The employer was likely going to be Aziel’s next target, if he could maneuver it.

The assassin took out the extra key to the penthouse and slipped it into the lock. He cast a look back at the elevator, which had hit the bottom floor. Cam would be in the underground park now if he was taking his car, or he would be half way across the lobby if he was taking the bus. Aziel didn’t really understand Cam’s reasons for not taking the car everywhere he went, but he let it be.

Aziel moved into the quiet, dark apartment. Cam kept it fairly neat and tidy, for which Aziel was thankful. The last thing he wanted was to play the final stages of his game out in a slum. He closed the door quietly behind him. Leaving the lights off, the assassin moved through the kitchen towards the warm, brown bedroom.

The reason for the colour choice was to create the illusion of safety and warmth. With a room like this and the rest of the place very sterile and white; Cam would no doubt choose this room as the place where he would plan anything against Aziel. The assassin entered the bedroom and waited in the dark doorway for a moment.

His fingers found the light switch and flicked it on. The warm bedroom flared into brilliance, and Aziel squinted just a little while he adjusted to it. Here, he removed his jacket and set to work.

Cam was a simple creature. He had no formal education and his life experience was limited to the street. However, Aziel knew that little street urchins like Cam were the best at hiding things. Just because Cam was pleasant most of the time didn’t mean that he didn’t have all the skills of the most hardened thief. They could lie through their teeth; hide things on their person and in their apartments that no layperson could find.

Aziel was not your typical layperson in this regard. He knew Cam was doing something.

While Aziel had provided Cam with a car and a bank account that he could access whenever he liked, Aziel did keep an eye on the movements of both. Regularly, he checked the odometer in the car and the number of transactions that occurred through the bank account. The car was barely used at all, just when Cam was buying groceries or stuff for the apartment. If he was going to school or if he was going to visit someone, he took the bus.

The bank account was a little bit of a different story.

Now it was difficult to say if Cam was simply used to dealing in cash and not plastic, and had continued this practice, or if he was deliberately trying to slip something past Aziel. The account had almost no activity except for a weekly withdrawal of a random amount of money. The credit card always carried a zero balance.

At first, Aziel had been content to let the withdrawals slide. After all, he wasn’t taking much, and from what Aziel could see, he wasn’t spending much either. The only other activity in the account were things like bills that Cam had had set up to automatically come out of his account when the bill was due. But the cash withdrawals weekly had grown in size, and it still didn’t seem like Cam was spending anything. He didn’t buy designer clothes and he didn’t buy expensive electronics. In fact, he didn’t even buy very expensive coffee.

So where was the money going?

Aziel had a pretty good idea. Cam was proving to be more intelligent and worthwhile than his last experiments.

Slowly, Aziel started to move through the bedroom. He started by looking in the obvious places… drawers, closet, under the bed… but gradually became more meticulous and observant as he scoured the room.

When he was standing in front of the dresser, he noted that it was slightly out of line with the wall. Cam had pulled it out, and hadn’t put it back correctly. The assassin pulled out the dresser and looked behind it. There was a strap of a duffle bag sticking out.

Aziel felt a moment of irritation. If he was buying drugs with the money that he had given him, Aziel was going to be most upset. He reached down and pulled out the small black duffle bag. It was almost full, and quite heavy. He unzipped the bag and peered inside.

Aziel smiled. Smart kid.

He moved the money around a little, looking through the bricks of bills that Cam had so neatly placed in the duffle bag. He read the small note that had the amount that was contained in the bag. Almost $50,000.

Grinning now, Aziel zipped up the duffle bag and placed it back under the dresser as he had found it. He moved the dresser back, tilting it away from the wall just a little so that it would look how Cam left it. Then he brushed the carpet near the feet so it looked natural. He stood looking down at the dresser.

Aziel collected his coat and shut off the light in the room. His question was answered; Cam wasn’t spending the money, he was hoarding it. It made Aziel’s heart jump just a little in his chest. It was the farthest that any of his little experiments had ever made it, and Aziel was itching to see where it would lead.

He relocked the penthouse and headed home to Mark.

Cam was cradling his coffee in his hands as he waited outside his teacher’s office. He felt his heart hammering in his chest with nervousness. The time was coming close now. After last night, Cam realized that his addiction to the drug was becoming a serious problem. If he didn’t get away soon, he was going to be so focused on the drug that his schooling would suffer dramatically.

He chewed his lip, staring off into space as he thought about his situation. He thought about the burgundy stains that marred Aziel’s suit from the night before. Cam was sure that Aziel would have no problem killing him, and even less trouble getting away with it. Cam was nothing more than a toy to Aziel, and once Aziel was bored…

He was called into the office. Cam sat down, setting his bag in front of his feet and looking at the older woman who ran the little school that he was a part of. Mrs. Merrow. She had been the one to give him his certificate on graduating Grade 11.

“What can I do for you today, Cam?” she said, smiling at him.

Cam looked down at his coffee, and then back up to her. “I have a problem,” he stated. “I need to move cities, but I want to continue my schooling. Is there anywhere that would accept the classes that I’ve taken so far, so that I could finish up grade 12 when I get there?”

The woman was surprised, her mouth making a small ‘o’. She was a handsome older woman, with short greying hair. She always had a red knit sweater on overtop of whatever she was wearing that day, as if she never thought of wearing something heavier to come to work.

“Well, we do have several schools that are all linked. Where were you moving to?” she asked.

“I don’t know that yet,” Cam said. “I will probably make my decision based off where I can finish my education.” He fingered the small cardboard ring around his coffee cup. “I just know that it will have to be soon. Can I simply take a record of my transcript from here and give it to them?”

“That would give them an idea of where you are in terms of schooling,” she said with a nod. “We’ll be sad to see you go.” Her face reflected her words. If they had been closer, perhaps she would have reached across the desk to take his hand.

He smiled at her tiredly. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Merrow,” he said with confidence. “I’m not giving up yet. Things have just changed, and I have to react to how they’re changing. I promise that I’ll finish.”

Copyright © 2010 Archangel_of_Pain; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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