Chaotic Evil

Posted on Mon Nov 11th, 2024 @ 11:03pm by Shinobi Shaw

1,262 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Episode 5: Days of Fortune Past
Location: Secret Hellfire Location
Timeline: 11 November 1990

It was the morning after and Shinobi was exhausted. Selene had been gone for an hour already and he was just now finding the strength to roll out of bed. Damn, she knew how to properly close a deal. What a woman. With a groggy stretch, he pushed the covers aside and fished out a pair of shorts from underneath them, sliding his legs over the edge of the bed to pull them on.

The room wasn’t exactly cold, but there was a chill in the air. The fire that had burned warmly for their long night’s rendezvous had gone out in the early morning hours. He took the Egyptian cotton sheet from the bed, wrapped it around his shoulders, and shuffled out of the bedroom. He went over to the fireplace, mumbling to himself about needing to have it cleaned for later. He readjusted the chairs that they had been sitting in earlier and grinned.

Shinobi continued on to the bathroom, walking by the chair where the snow-white dress was draped, not even giving it a passing glance. With the sheet still loosely wrapped around him, he leaned over the sink, splashed warm water onto his face, and ran his damp hands through his hair. As he looked into the mirror, he noticed the red streaks down his chest, smirking as the memories came back. A matched set ran down his back as well, little mementos from the fiery night that lingered even as the flames in the firebox faded.

He pulled the sheet tighter around his shoulders as he stepped out of the bathroom, pausing by the chair where the dress lay. Shinobi picked it up, balled it in his hands, and tossed it beside the fireplace. When the fire was lit again, the dress would be left to burn to ash. The purse would follow. But the driver’s license, strip of photos, cash, and credit card, he’d send back to her through the same courier service he'd used for the Gala invitation. Maybe even in an envelope and seal identical to the one he'd used then. For a second, he wondered if Kennedy had even noticed that these things were gone. But that wasn’t his concern anymore.

As Shinobi tossed the dress aside, he felt a lingering thrill from the night’s events, a sensation that clung to him as he moved through his quarters. The echoes of his and Selene’s night still lingered in the room, settling in the quiet corners like faint ghosts. He crossed back to the bedroom and shrugged off the sheet, tossing it onto the bed before pulling on a dark shirt and buttoning it slowly, savoring the pace of the morning. He removed a pair of slacks and Italian loafers from the closet and some socks from a drawer. Once dressed, he took the items, made his way out of his quarters, and down the hall to the study.

Sunlight was shining through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over the polished mahogany wood and the leather-bound books lining the shelves. He scanned the envelopes on one of the desks, picking one out. It was the same thick, red-colored envelope that was used for Kennedy's Gala invitation. He smiled wickedly at the thought, folding a piece of expensive cardstock around the items and putting them inside the envelope. No letter. No note. Just the four items. He melted some of the wax to seal the envelope and imprinted it with the seal of the Hellfire Club; the large capital ‘H’ with a trident behind it.

Having the envelope sent by registered courier from Virginia to Salem Center, New York, and be free of any return address, would not be cheap, but well worth it in his mind. With a quick call, Shinobi arranged for the courier, setting the now addressed envelope on the edge of the desk. He would make it seem formal, almost courteous, sending Kennedy's identification and the other items back in a respectful manner. Shinobi leaned back against the edge of the desk, taking a moment to savor the scene he’d crafted.

The Lord Imperial stepped out of the study a moment later, giving a slight nod to the attendant who would see the envelope delivered on time to the courier. Then he strolled through the manor’s wide halls, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpets. The sunlight filtering in from the tall windows was sharp and almost intrusive. But it had no impact on the staff moving quickly from room to room.

Apparently word had already spread that he was out of quarters as he was approached by one of the staff. “M’Lord,” she said, “with your permission I'll have your quarters cleaned and reset.”

“Very well,” he said with a wave of his hand. “But don't bother with the white gown on the floor,” said Shinobi. “I shall take care of that myself later tonight.”

“As you wish, M’Lord,” she answered. As he walked away, she quickly got to work on gathering people to send to his quarters w.

Making his way to the main foyer, Shinobi’s mind was already shifting gears. In the Hellfire Club, everything was about power, leverage, and appearances. His business dealings had cemented more of those. He had his own ambitions, and he’d be damned if he let anyone get in his way.

“Good morning, Mr. Shaw,” a familiar voice greeted him as he stepped into the foyer. It was one that he'd grown accustomed to hearing more than the others. Though they all seemed to blend together.

He turned to see Astra, one of his father’s business managers, standing by the staircase, her gaze sharp and penetrating. Dressed immaculately as always, the slender brunette held a notebook in one hand and pen in the other. She was poised as if waiting for his signal to proceed with whatever business was waiting for him.

“Astra,” he replied, giving her a nod. “Any urgent updates?”

She tilted her head, studying him with the faintest hint of a smile. “Nothing urgent M’Lord, but there is a request from Mr. Deatrick to meet regarding a rather delicate matter. He mentioned it would be ‘beneficial’ for you to be there.” Her tone was perfectly neutral, but Shinobi could tell by her choice of words that the meeting was likely to be as delicate as a loaded gun.

He raised an eyebrow, feigning mild disinterest. “Is that so? Well, I suppose I’ll indulge him. But schedule it for tomorrow afternoon. He can wait a little longer.”

Astra nodded, already making notes. “There’s also a message from Ms. Hastings regarding some financial irregularities she wants to bring to your attention. She insisted it was something you’d want to review personally.”

He smiled to himself. More strings, more webs, all being pulled behind closed doors. “I’ll take a look,” he said casually, though his mind was already racing with the possible motives behind her message. Financial irregularities indeed.

As Astra moved off to make the arrangements, Shinobi felt the familiar stirrings of anticipation. The Hellfire Club was a realm of endless machinations, and he had his role to play, one he intended to perform with flawless precision. It was difficult, to be sure, having been thrust into this world as he had been.

He smirked to himself, slipping his hands into his pockets as he strode out of the manor. After all, he thought, what was life without a little chaos?

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