"Don't worry, sir. We've got the grounds secured, and all the manor's entrances are sealed. Nobody in or out. I've got guys patrolling all floors, including the basement and roof."
"Are you sure," Liddell demanded, glaring at his bodyguard.
"Yes sir," the security man sighed, "we're doing radio checks every ten minutes."
"That's not enough," Liddell hissed. As he spoke, his eyes swept the room nervously, lingering on the windows and closed curtains. "It could still get in."
The bodyguard raised an eyebrow. "...it, sir?"
"Him," Liddell said, hastily, his face going pale, "I mean him."
"Right. Look, sir," the bodyguard said, "if you know something about this person, any information will help."
Liddell sank behind his desk. Nervously, he wiped sweat from his face with his sleeve, then picked up a glass of whiskey. He downed the remainder of the drink in a single pull. Ice clinked as he set the glass down.
"I can't," Liddell whispered, "you wouldn't..."
He stopped, mid-sentence, staring blankly at his empty glass.
"Sir," the security man asked, "what's wrong?"
Wordlessly, Liddell peeled a thin rectangle off the bottom of his glass. Liddell's bodyguard leaned over to see. It was a playing card, the face marred with a ring of moisture.
The Queen of Hearts.
Liddell started to shake uncontrollably, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Sir," the bodyguard said in alarm, "sir!"
Frantically, the security man rushed round the desk, grabbing his employer, trying to steady him.
Liddell stopped shaking.
There was a sharp sound in the air, a distinct two-part clicking.
Then Liddell's head slid off his shoulders.
To his credit, the bodyguard didn't scream. He bit down so hard that he drew blood from his own tongue, but he didn't scream. His hand went into his suit jacket, and came out full of firearm.
"Primary is down," he yelled, into the microphone clipped to his collar, "this is lead, primary is---!"
He didn't finish the sentence. Because that's when the sound came again, cutting him off.
Literally.
A moment later softly glowing appendage reached down, gently lifting the intact microphone from the severed stump of a neck.
A quiet voice spoke into the open channel.
"Stabberwocky."
When the rest of the security guards arrived, all they found were bodies.
* * *
Here comes a new challenger! Fire Blast/Storm Summoning Corruptor
-- Acyl
"Are you sure," Liddell demanded, glaring at his bodyguard.
"Yes sir," the security man sighed, "we're doing radio checks every ten minutes."
"That's not enough," Liddell hissed. As he spoke, his eyes swept the room nervously, lingering on the windows and closed curtains. "It could still get in."
The bodyguard raised an eyebrow. "...it, sir?"
"Him," Liddell said, hastily, his face going pale, "I mean him."
"Right. Look, sir," the bodyguard said, "if you know something about this person, any information will help."
Liddell sank behind his desk. Nervously, he wiped sweat from his face with his sleeve, then picked up a glass of whiskey. He downed the remainder of the drink in a single pull. Ice clinked as he set the glass down.
"I can't," Liddell whispered, "you wouldn't..."
He stopped, mid-sentence, staring blankly at his empty glass.
"Sir," the security man asked, "what's wrong?"
Wordlessly, Liddell peeled a thin rectangle off the bottom of his glass. Liddell's bodyguard leaned over to see. It was a playing card, the face marred with a ring of moisture.
The Queen of Hearts.
Liddell started to shake uncontrollably, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Sir," the bodyguard said in alarm, "sir!"
Frantically, the security man rushed round the desk, grabbing his employer, trying to steady him.
Liddell stopped shaking.
There was a sharp sound in the air, a distinct two-part clicking.
Then Liddell's head slid off his shoulders.
To his credit, the bodyguard didn't scream. He bit down so hard that he drew blood from his own tongue, but he didn't scream. His hand went into his suit jacket, and came out full of firearm.
"Primary is down," he yelled, into the microphone clipped to his collar, "this is lead, primary is---!"
He didn't finish the sentence. Because that's when the sound came again, cutting him off.
Literally.
A moment later softly glowing appendage reached down, gently lifting the intact microphone from the severed stump of a neck.
A quiet voice spoke into the open channel.
"Stabberwocky."
When the rest of the security guards arrived, all they found were bodies.
* * *
Here comes a new challenger! Fire Blast/Storm Summoning Corruptor
-- Acyl