A Little Black Book
“My personal take on a heist story. Just something I whipped up on a whim then went back and edited a few times. Though not connected to larger universe, I still liked it nonetheless. Note: The Jester in the story is not me, nor was he based on me. I just like it as a code name.” -Justin, April 2014.
A lone van raced through the quiet Atlanta streets, breaking the silence of the wee hours of the morning. Its shadow flashed upon the concrete jungle around it with every yellow street light it passed. While buildings after buildings appeared through the tinted windows to the occupants inside, no one besides Driver was really paying attention to the view outside. A raven-haired youth slid down one of the benches that lined the sides of the van’s rear section, with a smile on his face that, as he put it, was worth a lot more than a million dollars. He playfully wrapped an arm around the girl he now sat next to, who pushed him away with a scowl. Boss watched the two from the opposite bench, and from the slight twitch on corner of Breaker’s mouth, he knew that she wasn’t really annoyed at Jester sitting next to her. Then again, so did Jester, who feigned offence with his face and retreated back to his side of the bench, turning his attention to the redhead across from him. Breaker frowned; this time it was serious. Her eyes narrowed as she studied Jester as he spoke intently with Cypher. Boss laughed quietly to himself as Breaker pulled a pin out of her dirty blond hair, allowing it to cascade down past her shoulders. She had always been beautiful, Boss thought with a smile, even when neither of them could reach the top shelf in the kitchen, even on their tip toes. Breaker’s gaze caught his and it was his turn to receive her death stare, though at his warm smile her blue eyes softened a little. Boss shook his head and turned his gaze to the front of the van.
“This was a short story I wrote, inspired by the video game dishonored. The style of the world was designed similarly with the video game world, yet the specific details I created myself. Hope you enjoy.” -Justin, March 2014.
The sweat froze on Viktor’s brows as he tried not to breathe. The steam from his breath threatened to ruin everything. He regulated his inhales and exhales in short bursts, so that the white cloud would dissipate a few inches from his face: tonight was too important for any slip-ups. The cold air cut straight through his hooded trench coat, his padded shirt, his wool laden gloves, his slacks and his socks. Viktor shivered erratically, and only with the greatest efforts had he been able to control himself from giving away everything. Checking his Arc Wielder; the metal exoskeleton around his right arm crackled to life with electricity, illuminating before his pearl colored eyes. The crouched silhouette a few feet from him stirred in annoyance and Nico shot him a hard look from the next pile of rubble. The light died just as quickly as it was born. Stop messing around, even in the shadows the Senior Harbinger’s message was clear, you’re gonna get us all killed! Viktor leaned his head back against the column and wondered how many of them will die amongst the ruins of the old district. Chancing a glance around his cover, he poked his head around the column at the lonely, snow covered streets below.