He was awake, although awake was a relative term. In the truest sense it was the move from being unconscious to consciousness. And that had happened.
And yet he lacked awareness of his surroundings, he couldn't feel the space around him beyond the hard surface beneath him. He couldn't even see or hear. Still, it was a condition familiar to him and so he relaxed and waited.
Waited for the summons to his master.
A summons that didn't come in the specified time. He fought the impulse to frown in confusion as the last second in the specified allotment of time came and went without the summons. He didn't understand. The summons had always come on time. That heavy sensation of his master's presence sliding into his mind to take control of his thoughts and actions within heart beats of regaining consciousness.
He was about to send a query over the unseen network that connected all of his master's possessions together when he felt a hard sensation ripple through that network, a severing that nearly overwhelmed him. 'What, . . . what was that??' He found himself wondering.
Whatever it was, it was hard enough to bring him out of the black space where he was waiting for his master's summons. His eyes opened and, sitting up, he glanced around the plain cubicle that was his sleeping chamber. As expected, it was undisturbed from when he had been put away three days previous.
Standing in a fluid shifting motion, he stepped to the cabinet that held his arsenal. Within seconds of opening the door, he was fully equipped. And that meant his Hellfire pistol was in its familiar place strapped around his waist and secured to his right leg. The only weapon that could harm a prince of Hell, it was his primary means of doing his job. And that was killing his master's competitors.
Stepping to the door, he paused as a quick body scan swept over him from the array of sensors built into the door's frame.
"Ident," a harsh voice demanded from a hidden speaker.
"Blunt Instrument," he replied in a cold, hard voice of his own.
"Voice print accepted. User alert, primary access to local network has been terminated. Secondary access only."
Now Blunt did frown in confusion. Primary access was the purview of only one being: his master, the Hell prince known as Gamon. The only way his access would've been terminated was if he himself was dead.
Hence Blunt's confusion. As soon as a Hell prince died, their Hand of Retribution was immediately terminated to prevent unnecessary retaliation and bloodshed. It was part of the rules of engagement between the princes set by the Master of Hell himself. And it was part of a Hand's programming.
Yet, here he stood, still alive.
Hand on the grip of his Hellfire pistol, Blunt ran lightly through the vastness of his master's mansion, intent on reaching Gamon's chambers on the top level as quickly as was physically possible. If there was a body to be found, it'd be there. And perhaps some answers right along with it.
He ran up a flight of stairs and around a corner. Only to quickly duck back around that same corner.
"Blunt," a tight voice hissed from the hallway beyond.
"Kurse," he tautly replied. Then a piece of the corner was missing with a snarl of discharge and a flare of dark light.
His expression tightening slightly, Blunt resisted the impulse to look around the corner in an attempt to find the source of the attack. He already knew.
Kurse Apparent was another Hand of Retribution, sent by his Hell prince Ba'al in a 'hit' to try to take out Gamon. Humanoid, like him, Kurse would be in the all black leather that was a Hand's uniform; long coat, tunic and breeches with heavy boots. And, like him, he'd have his Hellfire pistol in his hand, ready to take Blunt's head off if he was foolish enough to extend it back around the corner.
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Blunt (ON HOLD)Fantasy
Blunt Instrument, the Hand of Gamon, was one of the most accomplished and successful hitmen in Hell, specializing in assassinating other Dark Princes at his master's behest. Controlled by Gamon's will, he was the perfect killing machine in his mast...