Emeral In Shadow

The Inventor and the Killer(s) [#8]

Nothing. But Gustaaf was sure someone was there, he trusted his instincts were telling the truth. He narrowed his eyes, and poked to fingers to his eyes, then out into the night, a message for 'I'm watching you.'.
He quietly entered the Inventor's home, picking his feet up high and setting them down soft.

The construction of the house was common for Bramblehaven, thick gray stone brick pillars cornering the walls with thinner brick walls with wooden planks laid over top between each.
A small guest bedroom, though really a glorified closet, was on the left side of the house, obscured by a larger master bedroom. The rest of the house was multipurpose, with the kitchen and foyer and living room in one large room.
Gas lamps hung in corners, off, and a wooden stove sat smoldering from dinner hours ago; Normal appliances for homes too poor to afford the pricey electric lights and gas stoves.
Gustaaf snuck past the stove, up to the door into the workshop. He slowly turned the knob to avoid any noise, and finding it was unlocked pushed it open gently...

But, it had been a second since he had a good kill. Gustaaf felt a jolt of energy through his body, up to his arm. He flung the door open, the door slamming into and knocking over some tall man sized piece of junk.
A crushing noise could be heard as the inventor accidentally broke the device in his hands between his fingers in surprise.
Gustaaf brandished his blade, the creamy yellow candlelight reflecting off the sharp metal surface. He approached slowly, trying to play up his menace.

"Who- how- why?!" The man said, neck twisted around to watch Gustaaf, struggling to stand up due to his chair scooter close into the table, practically trapping his long legs. His leg bumped the table, causing a drawer to fall out, spilling many fragile gadgets onto the floor; breaking and crackling on the ground.
Gustaaf noticed his voice was rich and somewhat exotic; he also remembered hearing the accent somewhere else... But he couldn't put his finger on who...

Gustaaf put on a calm smile, twirling the blade slowly around his fingers. He stepped closer, closer, to the man. He stood directly behind him now, just as the man backed out from under the table to stand up.
Gustaaf slid the blade under the Inventor's throat,

"I am the spirit of vengeance, roaming the halls of your conscience. You thought yourself invincible; but in this world, there is no hiding from death.". Gustaaf pushed his blade into the edge of the man's neck, crimson dripping out onto the tip of the knife.
"As my blade draws out your last ragged breath, know that your sins will be reckoned, and drowned in crimson."
Gustaaf drew the blade halfway across the Inventor's neck, blood began to gush out onto his hand.

'A job well done,' Gustaaf thought to himself, before his muscles seized up, and he fell backwards onto the floor. A small copper device had been stabbed into his thigh, and now sent a rhythmic sensation up through his muscles. His knife clattered onto the floor beside him.
The Inventor stood up holding his neck, crimson flowing through his fingers and over onto his chest. His eyes had their own intimidating look to them now,

"Such big words for a little boy such as you," The inventor walked over to the door, blood dripping onto the floor behind him. He dragged the man sized thing that had been knocked over by the door next to Gustaaf, who's eyes widened at a thought;
The thought wasn't of the machine, that clicked on sounding like an overworked horse, or the blood flowing freely onto his body from the man's neck, the Inventor having given up trying to hold the flow back.

Gustaaf recognized the accent from two different people, the first wasn't worrying; the Ame spy he had used the day he assassinated that aristocrat at the celebration. It wasn't surprising for him as the Ame people had always been the inventive sort, stories of vague technical advances sometimes reached Emeral.
The second was the eye-widener; that accent... Was his mentor's.