Introduction to (the late) "Blood Debt" Roleplay group on DeviantArt

Flick: Underground Specialist
by ~Militiawoman, October 24, 2008



So, you wanna know how I got into Saint Corp.? You're in the right, if not the only, place to hear it! Watch out for a stick, because this one's far-fetched.
Okay, basically I was minding my own business; mind business- I was thinking of something at the time... Anyway, I ran into one of my good pals... that big Russian dude, Kirill. I hadn't heard from him in a while, although I'm the kind of guy that ends up bothering him long before it's vice-versa. He didn't look like he wanted to be bothered, though. Well, you know me!

"Hey hey, what's up, Kirill?" was my question, and a dirty stare was my answer.
Okay, so, I tried again; no biggie!

"So, what'cha got in your hand?"

I found out that it was a hand-written letter from his fianceé, Rosetta Thorn, after tearing the letter away, and in half, from his death gripped hands. From what I discovered even more quickly, they weren't doing too hot this Autumn.

"Heh, looks like that winter wedding's gonna be postponed..."

Well, the next thing I knew, he was fuming. But I was only trying to help. I realize now that it would've probably have been in my health's best interest if I ended up taking a pounding from him right then instead of imploring him to offer my services further; Kirill squinted to me and handed me an empty, hand-scribbled manila envelope branded with some weird insignia bleeding red in the middle. At this point, I was like 'What the hell?' My face probably screamed it. Hehe, I wish I could've seen it, actually...

Anyway, "Rosetta left this behind, and wherever this is you will go find it for me
and bring her here." was the last he demanded of me before he gave me a pouch of gold and silver. Shit, the moment that I got paid was the moment that I clocked in!

So there I was- trying to find a needle in a haystack, or should I say "Thorn in a briar patch"? Okay, well... oh, never mind.
After a few hours of aimless wandering, I gave up and found myself sleeping on an
unexpectedly comfortable, abandoned lawn chair- as big as a park bench! I guess it was a park bench. Keep getting sidetracked... oh yeah, but why did it have to rain?! I guess I'd find the answer out sooner than later; not to why it was raining, but as to why this suited guy standing in front of me was so curious about my envelope. His inscribed pen I happened to notice read "Maddeus Finch".

"How did you get that?" was what he said to me.

"I got it from a friend who got it from a friend."

"And do we plan to pass this envelope onto anyone else this evening...?!"

"Hey, finders keepers! I can Xerox it for ya, but I need it to find where this place is."

"Oh, you'll be interrogated there soon enough..."

Did I pick out the right guy for the job or what? Before I knew it, I was, almost, being dragged to a small, run-down clinic between Horizon Wireless and the Milton Hotel. The inside was surprisingly nice, though- without the dread of a doctor's office. He got himself a cup of coffee and made nice with his secretary while I hunted for a place to sit.
Well, a few minutes of wandering found me a few landscapes in frames, which slowly gradated from colorful to, almost exclusively, shades of black, white, grey and red.
Then, I met a dead end.

Oh wait, no. There was a choice of two, unlabeled staircases, so I chose the left one, and down I went! The more left turns I made, the longer each flight of stairs became. I hummed a Broadway tune, a quartet with me, myself, I, and me again, as my voice leaped from wall to wall with the friction of my shoes to keep the beat. C'mon, give me a break! This place was getting creepy. I was starting to think that a shot and a lollipop sounded pretty good.
It didn't take long for me to reach level 12. I had passed other doors, but the brass plaque on the outside of this door beckoned me. On it was what had read: Private.
Like I never heard the word! The moment I twisted the equally-bronzed knob, Mr. Finch sat in a coy pose that seemed to expect me. His intent gaze beckoned me to speak first, but I was way ahead of his game.

"Whoah! How'd you do that?!"

"You're good with navigation..."

"Thanks, I think. You have a nice pen."

He smiled at me. "...And have a keen eye."

"Oh...I guess you do have nice eyes, too."

"I meant yours."

"Mine? Aww, they're the old jeepers creepers, but they haven't failed me yet!"

At this point, I was getting a stiff hint of flattery...

"...Of course..." was what he said just before a short pause. "Excuse me for being as curious as you are, but just how
did you get that envelope again, Mister...?"

"Vonderburg's the name! Uhh... one of my friends gave it to me. He wanted me to use it to find out where his fianceé was going."

"What would you say if I said that I have a hunch as to where she may be, and that you will be paid to find her?"

Ka-ching! My services were just bought out, baby! I said something similar to that, anyway. Mr. Finch then shook my hand and welcomed me to Hell. I'm still trying to figure out what exactly he meant by that. Was it because we were underground? Maybe it was all the left turns...

I'll make sense of it later, but for now, story time's over, kiddies. I gots me a married woman to stalk that two men are paying me for. I'm done with the bad puns, I swear...