"Hey there, pal," It was a mocking voice: an almost disingenuous sounding one. "Uh, looks like you've been pretty busy. Well, if you ever get an opportunity again I’d love to talk. Knowing oneself means acknowledging one’s actions, after all…” There was a pause. “... Not feeling up to responding to me? Alright. That’s fine. I’ll be waiting. I’ve always found some odd interest in you... You walking contradiction.”
Slowly, Caernarvon’s eyes opened to reveal the bare cobbles of the street surrounding him. A newspaper sat on his lap reading “Legacy of Bloodshed: A Documentary of the Three Stripes Gang.” Oh yeah, he remembered it now. How he had been following the trail of corpses all the way here; to Syne Academy. For the first few seconds it felt like he had to remember everything, from breathing to simple language skills. He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night and his eyes felt like small invisible tea bags hung from their lids, but there was something within him forcing his very spirit on. It was surely a futile effort, wasn’t it though?
The man groaned, pulling the newspaper from his lap and standing back up. He had spent the whole night on that solitary bench and once again the streets sprang to life in the morn. Due to the apparent curfew they had been far more dead lately, leaving Caernarvon almost alone in solitude every night with that voice just barely tugging at the back of his mind. Now it was time to continue his search, though. He needed both information and allies: both of which had been in short supply to him up to this point, but if there was anywhere on this continent he could find them it was here.
Folks passed him stray glances as he walked, removing a cigarette from his coat and striking it up. The academy was supposed to be up so high it was only possible to reach it by airship. It beckoned the trenchcoat-clad man to learn its secrets. Caernarvon obliged, of course. This was where he was going to make his final stand against those bearing three crimson stripes on their uniforms, and he had a valuable lead for the first time since he could remember. He knew that things were about to get pretty heated, most likely ending in some kind of a firefight at the end of it all, but that was where he excelled. If there was one thing Caernarvon could do, it was kill.
He arrived near the school’s entrance gate a about an hour later after boarding the transport vessels, noticing that the air was quite a bit thinner here. He stopped and scanned the area with his eyes awaiting what could be, perhaps, a greeter to guide him. Well, it was worth a shot anyways.
Slowly, Caernarvon’s eyes opened to reveal the bare cobbles of the street surrounding him. A newspaper sat on his lap reading “Legacy of Bloodshed: A Documentary of the Three Stripes Gang.” Oh yeah, he remembered it now. How he had been following the trail of corpses all the way here; to Syne Academy. For the first few seconds it felt like he had to remember everything, from breathing to simple language skills. He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night and his eyes felt like small invisible tea bags hung from their lids, but there was something within him forcing his very spirit on. It was surely a futile effort, wasn’t it though?
The man groaned, pulling the newspaper from his lap and standing back up. He had spent the whole night on that solitary bench and once again the streets sprang to life in the morn. Due to the apparent curfew they had been far more dead lately, leaving Caernarvon almost alone in solitude every night with that voice just barely tugging at the back of his mind. Now it was time to continue his search, though. He needed both information and allies: both of which had been in short supply to him up to this point, but if there was anywhere on this continent he could find them it was here.
Folks passed him stray glances as he walked, removing a cigarette from his coat and striking it up. The academy was supposed to be up so high it was only possible to reach it by airship. It beckoned the trenchcoat-clad man to learn its secrets. Caernarvon obliged, of course. This was where he was going to make his final stand against those bearing three crimson stripes on their uniforms, and he had a valuable lead for the first time since he could remember. He knew that things were about to get pretty heated, most likely ending in some kind of a firefight at the end of it all, but that was where he excelled. If there was one thing Caernarvon could do, it was kill.
He arrived near the school’s entrance gate a about an hour later after boarding the transport vessels, noticing that the air was quite a bit thinner here. He stopped and scanned the area with his eyes awaiting what could be, perhaps, a greeter to guide him. Well, it was worth a shot anyways.