Chronicles of the Brotherhood: Genesis

Act XI: The Curious Man Called L

 Feet pounded and drove over the cobblestone walkways of Flenor as four masked figures dashed away from a smoking window into an alleyway on the East side of the city. Each figure was clad in street attire, some more clean than others. Wrapped around their heads were scarves of various colors and designs, covering simple masks, which covered their faces completely. The lead figure strode with a jingling sack in each hand; each of his crew had one sack each.

At the back ran a figure clad in soft white, his silver silk scarf's tassels whipping in the wind in the mad dash. Periodically his scarf would slip undone and he'd slow just enough to retie it and catch back up in a step or two. His white button down shirt collar stood up and reeled back from the wind as did its tails in the back almost in tandum with the cuffs of his slacks. His sleek black shoes clomped lightly on the ground with every step.

"Cease and stand down!" Sounded the voice of an officer clad in sleek ember and azure armor followed by three other identically clad officers. Theyr blew a whistle as if the group hadn't heard him the first time.

The runner at the rear gave a quick whistle and after a nod from the front man, the four ducked and split up heading in opposite directions; some to the rooftops, others down a bisecting alley, the front man didn't change his course. The officers were annoyed, but continued their chase, splitting off to catch who they could.

The runaway clad in white dove into one alleyway only to spring up and race into another one desperately trying to escape his pursuers. An officer leapt forward morphing his body into that of a tiger, snarling as he gave chase. After a moment's glance to see his predicament, the fleeing individual took a jump off a wall before vaulting himself onto the rooftops through some acrobatics.

The officer growled and jumped shifting into a small bird and climbing up the side of the building quickly. Upon soaring over the edge he morphed back into the tiger form and glared at the figure that had stopped to tighten his scarf. When the officer dug his claws into the rooftop, the figure took off running from flat-top to flat-top.

"Give up" the officer snarled chasing after him.

The figure refrained a reply as he continued stride running up glass skylights, using them as ramps for an extra boost of momentum. He felt his wings pushing against the back of his shirt but he suppressed them, not wanting to give anything else away to his gaining predator. He dove off the side of a building without warning, landing in a garbage bin.

"Disgusting" he growled pulling himself up and out. He then made for the mouth of the alley.

He gave a quick look around the busy street before deciding on a place to run to. He pushed through the crowd gracefully, sometimes not hardly touching the ground. He quickly ducked out of sight, making for the small bridge over the Flenor river.

The officer didn't have as graceful of a landing. His right arm got caught too far out of the bin and when it made contact with the metal he heard and felt a crack. The officer strained to crawl out of the dumpster. When he did he dashed out of the alley gripping his broken arm. He threw his head across the street and down trying to pick out his quarry, but he was gone. He sniffed and went off a scent he thought he recognized leaving the scene.

Mason tore the scarf off from the top of his head letting it hang around his neck as he caught his breath under the bridge. He sat on a cinder block leaning over himself gazing at the ground, his vision was a little fuzzy. At his feet lay his ceramic mask now shattered into pieces, which he kicked into the river. Just to the left of that sat the sack.

"Where's the fire?" sounded a confused yet calm voice.

Mason felt a shiver run up is spine as he spun around to see who stood behind him. Much to his relief it wasn't an officer, but much to his unease, another man stood before him just within the shadows. The man's black hair came to just rolling off his shoulders into a scarlet scarf, his locks falling more so to his right side over emerald eyes and a young face. He wore a long worn black trench coat, the collar shielding his cheeks from the sunlight. He wore a simple low-cut shirt under the coat, along with worn trousers tucked into smudged boots. A cigarette hung between his lips.