Discover Top Posts Tagged with #criminalconsultant

Popular Recent

thats-my-rose started following you criminal-consultant started following you Hello there. What can I do for you today?

#thatsmyrose #criminalconsultant

ramver2 started following you

criminalconsultant started following you

sirboastalotsstories started following you

wrathfulavenger started following you

*sips coffee* Morning, folks.

#ramver2 #criminalconsultant #sirboastalotstories #wrathfulavenger

Just Giving You a Small Taste of Your Afterlife

Remy had been in and out of consciousness the past few days, waking up from long periods of sleep for only a few minutes at a time. On those occasions he could hear Jim's voice, could just make out his face from the blur of sleep, but there was little he could remember of the things he said or did. There were times, as was often the case, in which he would wake up, groggy and in pain, to find Jim simply sitting at his bedside, a book in hand. Other times he would find himself being shaken lightly awake by either Jim or Seb so that his bandages might be changed and cleaned.

Time was a distorted mess in his head, but he didn't quite care about that. What mattered to him was the amount of sleep he got, which became increasingly less as the days passed on in some fantastical, random order that was unbeknownst to him. With the increasing wealth of his body, his brain seemed to take it upon itself to become more active while his limbs like useless lumps of flesh on the mattress at his sides. With this increasing activity came distorted dreams and images of what he could only describe as nightmares. Remy was hardly one to be shaken, and he couldn't remember having a nightmare since he was twelve. Even after the war and returning home, he had only minor difficulties returning to civilian life. After becoming repo for The Union, his conscience seemed to dwindle even further. A job was a job and he wouldn't be losing sleep over the tosser who couldn't pay his bills.

But this, this had been different. There had been something unnatural and unrealistic about the being that had plucked him out of his car, the thing that had fished him out of the collapsing metal and fiber glass and plastic like a cookie from a cookie jar, with every intent of devouring him. Whether or not the glass of milk would present with its munching had yet to be seen, thanks to Seb's timely arrival and dismissal of the terrible beasty. No, now his brain worked feverishly to explain the events, going back to them and working them over and over in his head to find an explanation. The twisted, stretched face with its impossible maw, the claws snatched and tore at him like he was nothing more than a box with gift wrapping. On many occasion, he found himself waking during portions of the night, alone again and covered in sweat. His body would ache and the stitches would tighten, reminding him that the whole scenario had not, in fact, been just a dream.

One nightmare in particular had him waking up, screaming for the creature to let him be. His hands had gripped the bed sheets, gathering them into crinkled bunches in his fists. It had pinned him, spoken to him, saying the same thing over and over and over again before it would lung forward, its maw opening wide as if to swallow him whole. Hungry! Hungry!! It roared.

Remy sat up in the bed, a painful tugging bringing him back down against the pillows as he took in deep, labored breaths, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. He ran a hand through his short hair, ruffling it and bring up another hand to rest of over his eyes before he scrubbed at his face, looking around the dark room with a deep lined scowl. You're a right mess... The ex repo listened to the silence of the house, waiting to see if he had woken either Jim or Seb, but when he heard nothing but the silence answering his cries, he let out a soft breath. Get a hold of yourself, you prick... Remy groaned and scrubbed at his face again, his head resting against the pillows behind him. Go back to sleep.

#criminalconsultant #the-most-dangerous-game

On the fence... Literally

Remy took his leave of the house, going out onto the back lawn instead of holing up in one of the many rooms. The place felt stuffy. Sure it was richly furnished and well cared for, but he had the sense that he couldn't so much as sneeze without the little prick getting up his ass about how much a single thread in the carpet cost.

His lip curled up in a snarl as he thought about it and he kicked at the lawn, the sole of his foot brushing harmlessly over the grass. Being kept here was worse than being on the run from The Union. No, he wasn't being kept here. He could leave at any time. He was finding that asking for a few days reprieve in the lavish home had been too much. He'd clearly overstayed whatever welcome Jim had given him and he was finding that now would be the best time to leave. With the amount he had just received for his first job, he could afford a decent hotel until he could find something a little more permanent.

The ex repo turned on his heel, walked back up to his room, packed up the small amount of clothes and equipment he had and headed back down the steps to the front hallway. The duffel was slung over his shoulder and his "kit" was clutched tightly in his left hand while the right dug for the car keys he usually kept in his pocket. Both pockets were empty and he snarled a curse under his breath. Bloody hell, he must have left the fucking things on the dresser in the borrowed room.

Storming up the steps, Remy went back into the room and searched the dresser and every shelf he could find. Where were the fucking keys?!

#Criminalconsultant #the-most-dangerous-game

The cat is black... Kočka je černá

Remy sat at in his room, though it had been put to him that he could pick a part of the house that was less secluded for his studies, but he found the bedroom to be sufficient enough for his needs (not to mention the bed was one of the most comfortable he had been in in ages).

He had a few books sitting open in front of him and a laptop open and running a program he found online to help teach him Czech while he also caught up on his Russian. Headphones rested over his ears and he would often times repeat sentences and words aloud to himself, testing them on his tongue. The languages were both difficult, but he found himself getting a hang of things by the fifth day.

Around lesson fifteen he was a little more fluent in Czech and his Russian was coming along more and more. Remy felt a little better about the new assignment, but he kept at the languages until he was certain he could hold a fluent conversation in either language. Wouldn't do him any good if his target couldn't understand him. Nor would it help him if he couldn't understand what was being said to him.

#criminalconsultant #the-most-dangerous-game