Post by Azrael on Apr 3, 2009 13:12:41 GMT -5
Clank! Clank! CLANK! CLANK!
Bzzt! BBBZZZTT!!!
Buddabuddabuddabudda!
Strange and unusual sounds to be heard, coming from an age old castle in Ireland. On the outside, the castle appeared to be as old and primitive as what you would expect from the 13th century. It was not a LARGE castle, but it served it's purpose for the sole occupant. It had a few bedrooms, a large living room with a fireplace, a kitchen, a small tower and in the back a tiny little chapel were religious sermons were once held. Throw some ruins of a former building in the back yard that the owner used for training purposes at times, and you basically had the castle in a nut shell.
Beneath it, however, was a cavern. The tower had a door in the floor, which revealed stone steps down into a dark cavern with room for training equipment, tons of tools and a massive connex that contained spare parts, extra's, and several tools. It also had room to just barely contain a mobile suit. Another entrace was an opening in the side of a cliff that the castle was perched upon.
A river also cut a portion of the cavern off from others where a young man was donning a peculiar crimson costume with golden gauntlets and boots, then grabbed a black trench coat to cover most of it. He ran a hand frustratingly through is blonde hair as his dark green eyes looked over the small river of water to the otherside where his crimson red mobile suit was being worked on by paid "guests", some of the finest mechanics the Irish military had to offer.
Sean Andrew Watts, better known among warriors and soldiers as Azrael Knightquest, grinded his teeth in irritation as he awaited them to finish with his mobile suit. He hated it when he had to trust others with things important to them. "You wanna make sure something gets done RIGHT, the way YOU want it, you have to do it yourself" was his philosophy. But he knew that while he had enough knowledge about mobile suits to get the job done out in the field or combat, to get the latest upgrades in engines, reaction time, and visuals, he needed men who specialized in that field.
The three of them were working on the cockpit of his Scorpio mobile suit, which was knelt down so they could access it easier. The engines were completed, modified so that the Scorpio would handle much more similiarly, if not exactly the same, on the earth as it would in space. The visuals were sharper and better, all that was SUPPOSED to be left was improved reaction time.
"Are you DONE yet?" Azrael demanded. He paid these men hundreds of dollars a day, and it had been a week. He recieved his money due to his birthright, and work he had been dueing, but while he was "rich" in comparison to others, he did not have an endless supply. He was curious as to what would take these men so long just to upgrade some visual screens, computers, controls, and engine improvements? He hoped they weren't screwing him over. Add the fact that Azrael provided food, shelter, and a shut-up fee, he felt he was being more than generous.
"Hey, like we said a few days ago, this stuff takes time." One of them, "Carlos" said casually. Like the other two, he wore a simple brown worksuit, leather tool belt, and blue cap.
"I'm paying EACH of you a substantial amount. I expect perfomance equal to the amount. The deadline is TOMORROW. I promised a bonus if completed early." Azrael crossed his arms and looked over at them with a none too pleasant look on his face. "I will NOT pay you for longer. We had an agreement."
"Hey, man, we didn't sign no contract," A second one, "Mark" said turning around. He always had a sour expression on his face. Seemed to act like the world owed him something. "This thing don't get done in time, tough. I don't work for free."
A very dark look crossed Azrael's face as he rushed forward, leaped into the air and flipped over the river, landing soundly on his feet. "Let me make this very clear to you, MARKY." He growled as he stormed over to the cockpit. He grabbed Mark by his hair, then slammed his head against the outside of the Scorpion's breastplate with a sharp WHACK! Carlos and the other mechanic both jumped back in surprise.
"You work for ME, I don't work for YOU." Mark swung the wrench in his hand, aiming for Azrael's face. Azrael blocked the man's wrist with his forearm, keeping it back, then slammed a chop into a nerve point right were the should muscle met with the neck muscle. Mark's arm went limp and opened his mouth in pain, but he couldn't quite scream. "I will NOT tolerate this behavior!" Azrael grabbed Mark by the throat and slowly lifted him up in the air. "And I will NOT be denied anything." His voice lowered to a throaty growl as Carlos and the other mechanic both pulled back in sheer terror of the sudden violence and anger inside the man. "If you will not keep your end of the bargain, you are useless and untrustworthy to me. And for that, I will kill you."
Mark looked Azrael in the eyes and saw two things: Anger and Honesty. This man was not joking. He would kill to keep his mobile suits whereabouts a secret. Mark struggled to gasp and gain some air in his lungs to tell him he wasn't serious, he was just bluffing, ANYTHING to keep the man off him.
"Do we understand one another?" Azrael demanded. Mark slowly shook his head as his face turned purple. "Good." Azrael dropped him on the ground, then turned to look at Carlos. "Arrogance and rudeness should be punished. The deadline is MIDNIGHT tonight. You will not get paid for tomorrow, but it WILL be finished by tomorrow."
Carlos slowly shook his head. Azrael slowly walked past the gasping Mark, who was on his hands and knees, struggling to breath properly. "Breath DEEPLY and SLOWLY, idiot." Azrael walked over to the steps. "I'll have the maid prepare dinner and the rooms for tonight. If you finish before 9 tonight, you'll get a free cab ride to the airport, and tickets to your home cities. Don't irritate me again, or you'll lose all these benefits. AFTER I pound you into a bloody pulp."
Carlos helped Mark up to his feet, his eyes wide in shock. "Dude, are you okay?"
"Yeah!" Mark coughed out, then rubbed his neck. "Little punk, he cheated... How could he cheat like that? Little coward."
Carlos shook his head. "He was like some KUNG FU mother freaker! Blocked the wrench and then dropped you...er, no offense, dude. Then he picks you up by the throat and all? Freakin' on steriods or somethin'."
Mark ran a fingers through his greasy, slicked back hair. "Man, that was CHEAP. Usin' that Jap crap. Freakin' CHEAP."
The third man, David, finally chose to speak up. "How 'bout we just hurry up and finish this thing so he don't come back even angrier than before?"
Carlos and Mark looked at each other, then turned around and started working again. This time, though, they seemed to be working much faster.
****************************************************
Inside his small chapel, Azrael threw his trench coat on one of the benches. The chapel was tiny, with four benches on either side that could each hold maybe two people, an altar that once held a status of St Dumas, now replaced with Jesus Christ on the crucifix. A small podium with an open bible stood in front of the alter, the carpet was a deep crimson red, as were the drapes with the crosses embroided on them. Three windows on the left and right side of the room were stained glass, each depicting the angels Michael, Gabrielle, Serendipity, Raphael, and the two prophets Moses and Elijah.
Azrael walked over to the altar, and bent down on one knee, and bowed low so that the opposite fist was put knuckle-first in the ground.
"Lord, I have prayed to You much for guidance these past weeks. The actions taken have caused...turmoil within me. As they have with the world." He paused for a moment, still looking down at the carpet. "I have tried my best to do the duties of my patron angel, Azrael. To fulfill that which is righteous, by punishing those that are evil and in power, so that the meek and righteous might flourish in the earth. I have passed judgement against only those who so stubbornly refuse to respect and appreciate that which You have given us: Life and Free Will. Yet I feel I have done nothing of great value, or use here."
He sighed a bit and looked up at the crucifix. "I have not heard a clear answer on what to do, Lord. Therefore, I must do what is right. I must fight. I beg of You, Lord. Guide my hand... that I might not strike down a single soul You do not wish struck down.
"In Jesus' name...amen."
Bzzt! BBBZZZTT!!!
Buddabuddabuddabudda!
Strange and unusual sounds to be heard, coming from an age old castle in Ireland. On the outside, the castle appeared to be as old and primitive as what you would expect from the 13th century. It was not a LARGE castle, but it served it's purpose for the sole occupant. It had a few bedrooms, a large living room with a fireplace, a kitchen, a small tower and in the back a tiny little chapel were religious sermons were once held. Throw some ruins of a former building in the back yard that the owner used for training purposes at times, and you basically had the castle in a nut shell.
Beneath it, however, was a cavern. The tower had a door in the floor, which revealed stone steps down into a dark cavern with room for training equipment, tons of tools and a massive connex that contained spare parts, extra's, and several tools. It also had room to just barely contain a mobile suit. Another entrace was an opening in the side of a cliff that the castle was perched upon.
A river also cut a portion of the cavern off from others where a young man was donning a peculiar crimson costume with golden gauntlets and boots, then grabbed a black trench coat to cover most of it. He ran a hand frustratingly through is blonde hair as his dark green eyes looked over the small river of water to the otherside where his crimson red mobile suit was being worked on by paid "guests", some of the finest mechanics the Irish military had to offer.
Sean Andrew Watts, better known among warriors and soldiers as Azrael Knightquest, grinded his teeth in irritation as he awaited them to finish with his mobile suit. He hated it when he had to trust others with things important to them. "You wanna make sure something gets done RIGHT, the way YOU want it, you have to do it yourself" was his philosophy. But he knew that while he had enough knowledge about mobile suits to get the job done out in the field or combat, to get the latest upgrades in engines, reaction time, and visuals, he needed men who specialized in that field.
The three of them were working on the cockpit of his Scorpio mobile suit, which was knelt down so they could access it easier. The engines were completed, modified so that the Scorpio would handle much more similiarly, if not exactly the same, on the earth as it would in space. The visuals were sharper and better, all that was SUPPOSED to be left was improved reaction time.
"Are you DONE yet?" Azrael demanded. He paid these men hundreds of dollars a day, and it had been a week. He recieved his money due to his birthright, and work he had been dueing, but while he was "rich" in comparison to others, he did not have an endless supply. He was curious as to what would take these men so long just to upgrade some visual screens, computers, controls, and engine improvements? He hoped they weren't screwing him over. Add the fact that Azrael provided food, shelter, and a shut-up fee, he felt he was being more than generous.
"Hey, like we said a few days ago, this stuff takes time." One of them, "Carlos" said casually. Like the other two, he wore a simple brown worksuit, leather tool belt, and blue cap.
"I'm paying EACH of you a substantial amount. I expect perfomance equal to the amount. The deadline is TOMORROW. I promised a bonus if completed early." Azrael crossed his arms and looked over at them with a none too pleasant look on his face. "I will NOT pay you for longer. We had an agreement."
"Hey, man, we didn't sign no contract," A second one, "Mark" said turning around. He always had a sour expression on his face. Seemed to act like the world owed him something. "This thing don't get done in time, tough. I don't work for free."
A very dark look crossed Azrael's face as he rushed forward, leaped into the air and flipped over the river, landing soundly on his feet. "Let me make this very clear to you, MARKY." He growled as he stormed over to the cockpit. He grabbed Mark by his hair, then slammed his head against the outside of the Scorpion's breastplate with a sharp WHACK! Carlos and the other mechanic both jumped back in surprise.
"You work for ME, I don't work for YOU." Mark swung the wrench in his hand, aiming for Azrael's face. Azrael blocked the man's wrist with his forearm, keeping it back, then slammed a chop into a nerve point right were the should muscle met with the neck muscle. Mark's arm went limp and opened his mouth in pain, but he couldn't quite scream. "I will NOT tolerate this behavior!" Azrael grabbed Mark by the throat and slowly lifted him up in the air. "And I will NOT be denied anything." His voice lowered to a throaty growl as Carlos and the other mechanic both pulled back in sheer terror of the sudden violence and anger inside the man. "If you will not keep your end of the bargain, you are useless and untrustworthy to me. And for that, I will kill you."
Mark looked Azrael in the eyes and saw two things: Anger and Honesty. This man was not joking. He would kill to keep his mobile suits whereabouts a secret. Mark struggled to gasp and gain some air in his lungs to tell him he wasn't serious, he was just bluffing, ANYTHING to keep the man off him.
"Do we understand one another?" Azrael demanded. Mark slowly shook his head as his face turned purple. "Good." Azrael dropped him on the ground, then turned to look at Carlos. "Arrogance and rudeness should be punished. The deadline is MIDNIGHT tonight. You will not get paid for tomorrow, but it WILL be finished by tomorrow."
Carlos slowly shook his head. Azrael slowly walked past the gasping Mark, who was on his hands and knees, struggling to breath properly. "Breath DEEPLY and SLOWLY, idiot." Azrael walked over to the steps. "I'll have the maid prepare dinner and the rooms for tonight. If you finish before 9 tonight, you'll get a free cab ride to the airport, and tickets to your home cities. Don't irritate me again, or you'll lose all these benefits. AFTER I pound you into a bloody pulp."
Carlos helped Mark up to his feet, his eyes wide in shock. "Dude, are you okay?"
"Yeah!" Mark coughed out, then rubbed his neck. "Little punk, he cheated... How could he cheat like that? Little coward."
Carlos shook his head. "He was like some KUNG FU mother freaker! Blocked the wrench and then dropped you...er, no offense, dude. Then he picks you up by the throat and all? Freakin' on steriods or somethin'."
Mark ran a fingers through his greasy, slicked back hair. "Man, that was CHEAP. Usin' that Jap crap. Freakin' CHEAP."
The third man, David, finally chose to speak up. "How 'bout we just hurry up and finish this thing so he don't come back even angrier than before?"
Carlos and Mark looked at each other, then turned around and started working again. This time, though, they seemed to be working much faster.
****************************************************
Inside his small chapel, Azrael threw his trench coat on one of the benches. The chapel was tiny, with four benches on either side that could each hold maybe two people, an altar that once held a status of St Dumas, now replaced with Jesus Christ on the crucifix. A small podium with an open bible stood in front of the alter, the carpet was a deep crimson red, as were the drapes with the crosses embroided on them. Three windows on the left and right side of the room were stained glass, each depicting the angels Michael, Gabrielle, Serendipity, Raphael, and the two prophets Moses and Elijah.
Azrael walked over to the altar, and bent down on one knee, and bowed low so that the opposite fist was put knuckle-first in the ground.
"Lord, I have prayed to You much for guidance these past weeks. The actions taken have caused...turmoil within me. As they have with the world." He paused for a moment, still looking down at the carpet. "I have tried my best to do the duties of my patron angel, Azrael. To fulfill that which is righteous, by punishing those that are evil and in power, so that the meek and righteous might flourish in the earth. I have passed judgement against only those who so stubbornly refuse to respect and appreciate that which You have given us: Life and Free Will. Yet I feel I have done nothing of great value, or use here."
He sighed a bit and looked up at the crucifix. "I have not heard a clear answer on what to do, Lord. Therefore, I must do what is right. I must fight. I beg of You, Lord. Guide my hand... that I might not strike down a single soul You do not wish struck down.
"In Jesus' name...amen."