The Furry Forums
Creative Arts and Media => Roleplay => Serious RP => Topic started by: Mr.Mustard on January 31, 2011, 12:15:25 AM
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James paced the length of his study. The 67-year-old millionaire knew his business, and knew this would be the most important deal of his life. He had a way of manipulating people to his advantage, and had everything perfectly planned. James sat down at his expensive desk, and started writing the invitations to his heirs. Be the end of the week, he was going to be 6 feet under, and one person was going to be six million dollars richer.
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all I want is a simple, utopian life, but noooooo... Rachel was sipping coffee at her small desk in her office, her secretary, Catie, a woman about her age, pretty domesticate cat female, she typed quickly away at her computer. Rachel skimmed through her files, bored out of her wits.
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Fred decided to close his shop early. There wasn't much traffic today and he was kinda tired anyway. Locking the door and switching the sign off, he went into the backroom where he had his own little "haven" he called it. It had an old rocking chair, a jukebox, and an old coke machine. Taking one out and popping the top off, he sat down in the chair and turned on the box to some slow lounge music. As he sank back into the chair, he started to drift away into a light sleep.
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Drake chewed on a cigarette as he stared at his blank computer screen. He still couldn't think of a thing to write. This novel was going nowhere! He decided to sleep early, everything was confusing him
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Sasha sighed and plopped down on her bed, another exhausting day of excelling behind her. So much to do, so little time to do it in. She took a deep breath and allowed the reality of being home to sink in before she grabbed her backpack, always ready for more work.
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James, his back cracking, handed the invitations to his servant to mail out. All of the people were related in some way to him, although he had no surviving family. A business owner, who had beat him in a battle of zoning regulations and was allowed to keep his pawn shop. A novelist, who James had banned from his chain of bookstores. A detective, who had investigated an arson case that James had instigated. Last, but not least, a brilliant high school student, who had written an unflattering article exposing some of Jame's dealings in organized crime for her town's paper. One of them was walking away a millionaire.
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Rachel was looking through her photo album... her family, her husband...all of them dead. she shed a few tears before closing the book. she decided to close for the day, angrily she left. she walked down the rainy streets to her small apartment building, she was soaked to the bone. though her lovely features still remained. she climbed to the third story, down the hall to her home, opening it she escaped into her sanctuary. she first showered then dressed in her pajamas of soft pants and a form fitting tank top, she turned on the TV for the news, more corruption... more everything negative.
Post Merge: January 31, 2011, 02:41:44 AM
***later***
Rachel ordered Pizza, she had to much. she knew there was a girl next door named Sasha... she took some of the Pizza and walked down the hall to her apartment. knocking on her door she waited casually.
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Sleep eluded drake. Dang, he thought, this is not gonna reflect well on his work...suddenly he heard something drop through his mail slot. He ran over and found a letter from...that man (that was all drake was willing to think of him as now). It was an invitation. Did that old dragon really think that he could invite drake after what he did??? No! Drake considered throwing the invite away. Then a thought played across his mind and he went over to his desktop computer to book travel plans...
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Rachel knocked on Sasha's door again..."I hope she is home." she said softly. "the pizza starting to get cold"
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Drake walked down the hallway. Nothing to be done...he looked around for inspiration when he ran into a woman knocking on an apartment door
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Rachel raised an eyebrow at the kid, smoking, she frowned "your too young to smoke there kid" she said slowly. her lovely eye held a light of of amusement as she flashed him a beautiful smile.
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Drake blew a cloud of smoke, "please miss I'm a writer, it's okay for me to do stuff that's bad for me," Drake grinned back at the pretty woman and then his eye fell on her pizza
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"well, I am a lawyer and a private eye" she glanced at the Pizza then handed it to him. "here, you have it instead" she walked past him to her apartment "well, good night then" she gave him a smile as she walked back into her home, closing the door.
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Fred came out of his nap when he heard a knock on his door. He grumbled and tried to go back to sleep but the knocking continued. With a heavy sigh, he got up and walked to the shop's door to see a man in a trench coat standing outside with a letter in his hand. Unlocking the door, he said "Sorry pal, we're closed early today." "Mr. Jakobs, I have a letter for you from my employer, Mr. Mustard." Fred's face scrunched when he heard that name. He didn't like old people, and Mustard was one of his lowest. "I've told that codger a thousand times. I'm not selling my shop!" "Mr. Mustard is no longer concerned about your shop Mr. Jakobs. Everything is explained in this letter. I am to ensure that you read it sir." Handing Fred the letter, Fred yanked it out of his hands and ripped it open. Reading it, the man turned and walked away.
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Drake sauntered back into his apartment, that Rachael woman...she was something... he thought as he chewed on the pizza. Drake decided that he could probably sleep, so he switched off his (still-blank) computer screen and crawled into bed. He had a plane to catch tomorrow morning, maybe tomorrow he could convince that old (censored) to see his side of the story. Ban his books would that man?? Drake drifted off to sleep, still reflecting on the unchangeable past.
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Rachel was packing, she knew that she was 'summond' to old Mustard home... "I dont trust him" she mumbled
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Drake sat in his seat on the plane wishing for a drink. He didn't like flying, foxes tended to be claustrophobic creatures. Drake chewed anxiously on a pencil to try to quell his nerves. His laptop sat on the tray table in front of him. He was actually making some headway on this novel! Though it seemed to be turning into a satire of his experiences with that old millionaire... A voice sounded over the PA system informing the passengers that the plane was about to make its descent into the Florida Keys. Drake knew that when he got there there would be a limo ready to take him to that...man's ferry boat to his private island. Then Drake would see what this was all about...
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Sasha......had fallen asleep. Normally she cursed such incompetence, considering that she had studying to do and homework to finish. Yet there she woke up, late at night, her textbooks spread on the bed around her, and the light out. Quickly she jolted upright and grabbed her cell phone. She texted first Rachel that she was sorry she missed their pizza date then her study buddies and apologized for forgetting to message over notes. But then she noticed something, a new e-mail from a certain....Mr. Mustard.
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Rachel smiled at the text and left her home with another plate, knocking on her door, hoping she would open it again
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Sasha answered the door in haste, almost tripping as she bounded down the stairs. She left the message unopened. "Hey Rachel! Sorry about earlier, I...well, you know." She smiled.
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Drake sat on Mustard's ferry as he wondered where the other "guests" were. Maybe he had jumped the gun a bit and came too early
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Rachel smiled at her cute friend "here is the Pizza that you ordered, her jade green eyes gazed at her apartment, clean... "Sasha, you work to hard... come over, have a break, I can help you too you know.." she smiled "i have been through the same thing"
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Sasha took the pizza, blushing. "Well...." she had to think on this one. "Only if we'll get my homework finished while I'm over there. It's due tomorrow and all." The message could wait .
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she smiled and hurried back to her home, pulling out her old High school and collage notebook, essays and etc. she spread them out on her table and waited for Sasha.
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Drake fet the boat bump against land. He had arrives at the island, now to find that old codger and get what he was owed..
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Sasha followed soon after, lugging all the important homework, particularly some very difficult advanced chemistry that even she needed help with every so often. She sat down and marveled at how much Rachel had. "You decided to keep all your high school work?"
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Yeah...it helped me through collage and law school" she smiled at she looked at Sasha's homework, chemistry, then she grabbed a thick note book with neat notes "your in luck, I love chemistry" she gave her a playful smile.
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Fred sat in his chair and turned the music off. The letter disturbed him greatly. "An invitation to his island... but why?" Inside was a plane ticket and directions to a ferry that would take him there. "Probably plans to persuade me out of this place with kindness. Or kill me and take it that way." Fred rubbed his chin. Going into his office, he found the deed and read it once over. Finding the clause of his death or extended absence, he found out that it would go to the bank. "Hmm, even if he does kill me, he still won't get it. All right old man, I'll come to your island." He packed up his things and left for the airport shortly after.
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James waited in his dining room, watching the ferry bring the first guest to the landing. "One down, three to go..." James said to himself. He called his butler, Bill Rosenthau. Bill, a 24 year old wolf, took the job after his directing job fell through, not knowing the old man was so rude. "Start up dinner, and be quick about it." James yelled at him.
James brewed over his plans, knowing that tonight would be his last. He watched as the first, the writer by the looks of it, walked up the stairs leading to the house. James took the stairs to the waiting room two at a time. He was old, be took care of himself.
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Smiling, Sasha opened the chemistry book and pulled out the worksheet, a certain something clawing at the back of her mind....that name. The name....the name Mr. Mustard. It almost hurt to think that name, yet she didn't know why...she had never heard of it before. Biting her lip, she turned back to Rachel and asked: "Do you know anyone named Mr. Mustard? I...got a message from him today, didn't open it. It- it just started bugging me that this random person even has my number, you know?" It was doubtful she was going to even open the message at all, things like this were...unnerving.
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Rachel tensed "ah... I got an invitation from him... he is a greedy old man with no life left in him...he has done many horrible things, I think you wrote a rather brilliant paper about him"
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It was Sasha's turn to tense as the name was brought back into her memory....she remembered the paper and she remembered who he was. "You think- that I got an invitation too?"
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"well I am already, packed, leaving early tomorrow, and I think you should get packed like...now" Rachel change int one would hopefully motivate Sasha "I will tell your school you have a family emergency"
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Drake entered the mansion while servants behind him carried his luggage. Where was the old *censored* now...Drake knew he was there..but where?
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Rachel left with Sasha that morning, sitting at the air port in between destinations, she was reading a book. a couple guys winked at her, she ignored them."we are sorry the delay, please wait another ten minutes"
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James waited in the living room for the author. He went into the waiting room, hoping to greet him at the door. As he entered, he realized the Author, (Bryan, James thought) was already inside the building. "Ah, the first guest has arrived. Dinner will be served as the rest of the guests arrive. Please, make yourself at home."
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Drake narrowed his eyes at James. Satan incarnate was here was he... "mind if I smoke?" Drake asked, not really caring about what answer he got because he had already lit up.
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Fred had arrived on the island after a flight and a short ferry ride. He brought with him nothing but a suitcase of clothes and assorted toiletries. When he got the the front door, he rang the doorbell, waiting for someone to answer.
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Sasha was dressed for the occasion, even her hair had been braided. She crossed her legs, and resting on her knee was a laptop, open as she typed away on another report. "Jeeze another delay," she moaned. "I'm really impatient to get there and meet the man, the myth, and the legend himself." She took a drink of expresso and looked impatiently up at the flight board.
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finally, the flight was here "finish that soon" she said they gathered their stuff. "we should be there with in the hour" boarding the plane, she was 'escorted' to her seat, which was right behind the first class section, she made sure that Sasha was right next to her, Rachel took the Aisle seat, while she let Sasha have the window seat. "did you bring anything nice to wear?...I have a feeling we will be having a 'nice' dinner"
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"Of course! I was expecting such...from him. I brought a nice little dress." Sasha smiled, then she pouted at the thought of not being able to type for awhile. Because of her tendency to air sickness, she wouldn't be able to write either. She shuddered at the prospect of relaxing.
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Rachel smiled kindly at the teenager. she pulled out a book and began to read. she felt the engine run...it was gonna be a short flight hopefully
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"No, I don't mind," James lied to Bryan, running a hand through his small, white crop of hair, "Smoke 'em if you got 'em..." As he was answering, a servant was entering with the second guest. "Ah, the shopkeeper... Please, let our misgivings to rest for tonight. It is a special occasion... When the next two guests arrive, dinner shall be served."
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Drake glared at the other guest. Probably one of that mans many bootlickers. How he hated everything about this moment...
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the plane landed, finally, they hailed a taxi as the yellow car took them to the port.... the island was not far off, but Rachel felt a sense of dread. she gave Sasha a reasuring smile. "don't worry, if he tries anything funny, I will shoot him" she promised
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"Special occasion huh?" Fred stood defiantly with his arms crossed. He turned his head to look at the other guest glaring at him. "What's your problem buttercup?"
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Drake backed away from the shopkeeper and went up to his assigned room. Best he got some writing done while James planned..
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Bill walked into the kitchen, away from the old crock. He may be evil and rude, be he was Bill's lifeline. The only reason he kept this job was because James practically ran the job market. If he were to quit, Bill would never find another job...
He reached into the cupboard, grabbing the oatmeal. James had the stuff with a pinch of sugar every day, nothing else. Bill couldn't see how the old prick could stand the stuff, but the man was obsessed with his health. Bill was sure he didn't have one bit of cholesterol in his bloodstream.
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"What do you mean if he tries anything funny? I think the man respects himself enough to not go into unwarranted territory, at least that was the impression he gave me during our interview---" Sasha put a hand to her mouth and blushed. She hated it when she spoke all academic like...it made her look like a nerdy loser in front of her friends.........
***some time later***
The ferry pulled up into its due time at the island port. Yes it was late but it was better than not at all. Sasha turned round with a smile to her friend, her hands clutched tight on her bag: "This is it, right up there...boy does this man run a fancy place here-" her eyes wandered over the island's features, then to the location of the estate. "We'd best be off, right?" she liked her friends to guide the way.
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James glanced out the window, at the approaching ferry. "So, the last guests have arrived... Bill! Get out here, you lazy bum!"
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Bill heard the yell from the kitchen. He walked to the entryroom, to his boss's voice. "Yes, sir?" he asked, disdainfully.
"Is dinner ready yet, or did you lase through that, too?" James barked at the poor man.
"All is ready except for your Oatmeal..." he replied, heading back to the kitchen before he could be insulted again.
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As the old codger barked at the butler, Fred couldn't help but be disgusted at his actions. Being a host, he'd thought he would have shown some courtesy around his guests. "So when do I find out why you brought me here? I know you didn't invite me over for a tea party."
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"When dinner has arrived, my friend... In the mean time, why don't you find you're living accommodations? I have set all the rooms on the second floor, and every room has a name card... I'm sure you'll find them most elequant......"
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Rachel stepped ahead of Sasha, when they finally arrived in the building, she was breath taken...but she stood on guard, smiling at Sasha, hearing commands, she knew they were going to be 'assisted'
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James looked up from his chair, his neck popping. "Welcome to my humble abode... I trust that you have abandoned all previous distates? Anyways, welcome to Lookout Point. I'll have my butler show you to you're room... BILL! Get out here!"
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Bill heard the old man calling him again. He walked into the entryroom, and noticed the final two guests.
"Bill! Show these fine young ladies to their rooms, now!" James yelled.
*It never ceaces to amaze me...* Bill thought, leading the guests to the second floor.
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Fred had already found his room and unpacked his suitcase, which had found his way there before him. He decided to sit in a nearby chair to await the dinner service. "Something's off about all this. This better be worth my time." He said aloud to no-one.
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Bill walked down to the ferry, enjoying a quick smoke. The old man's oatmeal was cooking slow in the burner, as the old man ordered. If only the old crock would die, that would solve a lot of problems... But, then again, without Mustard, Bill was homeless again, and that was not fun...
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Drake sighed as he put his clothes out on his bed. The old bat wasn't dead yet...and he was patronizing him...great. Drake shuffled through his suitcase until his hand ran across the object that protected him here. The butt end of a pistol protruded from his suitcase. Just in case the old man tried anything funny...
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Sasha was glad she had gotten her own room, and after a goodbye to Rachel, she went about setting it up to her tastes. She also took the time to get dressed in a dress even finer and take care of her make-up. She slipped her make-up set into a handbag to take with her, in case she had to 'fix her face' over dinner. And now she waited, nervously. This place seemed too large, swallowing.
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Rachel, in her own, extravagant Victorian style room, somehow the old man knew that her favorite color was cool colors such as green, purple and blue. she dressed herself in a slim, black evening gown that touched the floor, it was a halter style and it exposed her upper and mid back., her hair was down, soft tendrils of wavy black hair, she applied mascara to her eyelashes, enhancing them, when she finally looked at herself, she barely recognized the reflection...very beautiful.she put on a diamond necklace that was passed down for generations in her fiancee's family...her dead fiancee. she glanced down at the handsome image of her husband to be... a handsome silver wolf, with laughing blue eyes and shiny brown, short hair.
"give me strength my love...I will need it" applying a small amount of handmade, soft and fragrant perfume she went to Sasha's room. "Sasha?" she walked in.
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Drake spent the evening alone in his room trying to do some work, but stress caused him to go through an entire pack of Marlboros. His eyes kept darting to the gun...would he ever have to use such a thing?
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Sasha spun around fervently at the sound of footsteps in her room, her coral pink, layered dress spinning with her movement. The bright lights were blinding to someone used to the pale lights of suburbia, and the room became a blur..."How dare you walk in like this---" she started, but stopped when she saw it was Rachel. Sasha put one hand to her heart and another to her freshly curled locks of brown hair, pressing against her temples. Her knees buckled and her tail curled. "Oh God I'm sorry Rachel. You just scared me so badly...I thought...that..." she slowed and tears were obvious in her eyes.
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Rachel immediately came up "shhhh Sasha its okay, I know that the old man has some sense of hospitality" she cooed softly, hugged Sasha, Rachel considered herself a guardian to Sasha, she moved in that cramped place at an early age...like Rachel. but she never told her that, the grandfather clock chimed "we should head to the dining room..." she said softly
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The young lemur trembled and nodded, snatching up her purse on the bed. She slowly tried to stop herself from crying before the tears leaked and smeared her make-up. Sasha appreciated the care Rachel treated her with, all teens secretly desired to be babied. But the fear was still with her. Fear for many things. When she had spoken to the old man, the interview, she had pressed him too hard and he had backfired with threats that honestly made Sasha fear for her very life. But it was going to be okay, especially with Rachel here. It was going to be alright. She held her purse close to her as they began to walk out, a sort of teddy bear.
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Fred had just finished buttoning the cuffs on his dress shirt, a nice black and brown with 2 stripes going up the front. He had to use a special tool to do so because of his large paws, but it was only a slight inconvenience. Checking himself in the mirror, he made sure his shirt was tucked in to his black slacks and combed his ruffs to make himself presentable. "Wonderful. If I'm going to be having dinner with someone I hate, I might as well look better than them." With a smile he walked out of his room and immediately smelled that all too familiar smell. With a groan he went to the next door and knocked in a way that wasn't pounding, but was urgent. "I can smell you from out here. Tell me you have some cologne with you man."
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Rachel kept a close eye on Sasha, but making sure Sasha didn't notice, the arrived at the doors, which were closed. "didn't should start any minute, I guess we a re here first"
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Sasha was honestly worried that this was a trap set to kill her, and so stuck as near to Rachel as she could without being awkward, the paranoid child she was. "I'm not sure I can trust this food we'll be having, I'm not sure..." she said half to herself, half to Rachel, now worrying about being poisioned on top of it all. Her fur was rigid in anxiety. Why couldn't she be more like Rachel? More calm and easy going...
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Drake heard Macid pounding on his door. That lynx he had seen walk by his door a few hours ago...well screw Macid he had to work....
The pounding became louder and finally Drake gave up trying to work. "Okay calm down! I'm getting up man!" Drake shouted at the door. He didn't feel like dressing up fancy for that old bat Mustard but just in case... Drake grabbed the gun from his suitcase and stuck it inside his shirt.
No funny business tonight..
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Rachel more feared for Sasha's life then her own, she could see the fear in her eyes, she said nothing though...she noticed that the door was open ajar, she opened it and quietly walked in, the glorious dining room was decorated for such an evening, shiny white plates with a gold outline, clean silverware for each course, and three crystal wine glasses, the table cloth was a rich wine red satin. the most expensive, french champagne, red and white wine a person can buy in a silver cooler, candles burned softly, a crystal chandelier hung above the room, each seat had a name tag...Rachel sat in the middle "I have a feeling Sasha, that tonight's dinner will be long" she said, picking up a crystal glass, getting the tip of her pointer finger wet, she traced the rim of the glass, a clear, high note rang "and it wont be poisoned" her detective senses were picking up, setting down the glass, she await their host.
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Drake walked into the ballroom with the gun still stuck in his shirt. Drake shot a deviant grin at Sasha as he walked past her. Hey, he was still young, he could date whoever he wanted....
He took a seat at the "Drake" seat. Hmm....the seat wasn't rigged...maybe the wine was...no the wine wasn't poisoned. What was going on here??
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Rachel stared at Jake a long moment, she recognized a weapon in his shirt, but she said nothing, her senses could discover every detail "no, the wine is not poisoned, it not been opened since it was poured in the bottle, aging like fine wine" she sat in the "Rachel" seat crossing her legs, the silk black skirt of the dress flowed gracefully with each movement, "judging by the way the plates are set 'Drake' our dinner will last a while, so relax, food is not going to be poisoned" though her calm voice never wavered, she had a feeling this was a test... for what?
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Fred followed the others into the grand dining room. He was taken back at how elaborate is was for such an evening. He didn't expect to be treated like this by such an old codger. He noticed the others testing the wine and deciding it wasn't poisoned. "If he wanted to kill us, he wouldn't have gone through the trouble of having this set up. Name's Fred by the way. He walked to the chair with his name on it and stood by it, remembering manners to wait for the host before sitting.
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"Rachel, pleasure to meet you" she smiled "this is my friend Sasha"
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Sasha tried to smile at the others in return, the smile coming out more like a grimace. She felt her heart flutter, the fear inside boiling.
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Drake had no interest in meeting the others. This was just all that old man's game... Drake decided it would only be fair though, he walked up to the group and introduced himself. "Bryan Drake everyone, writer extrordinaire!" he always was fond of introducing himself like that
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"A pleasure to meet all of you. Now if only our gracious host would arrive we could find out why we're here."
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James called Bill on the small headset that James forced him to wear at all times, even sleeping. Bill, sitting on the pear and smoking his second cig, heard an old, Calloused voice in his ear.
"Bill! Is dinner done yet, or are you going to make us wait all night?"
"Ten minutes, boss..." Bill replied.
"It's Mr. Mustard to the lowlifes like you!" James yelled into the headset.
*It's gonna be a long night* Bill thought. What an understatement that was...
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"It's Mr. Mustard to the lowlifes like you!" James yelled, slamming the phone down. He picked the phone back up, hitting the speed dial for the Intercom system. "Ten minutes until dinner, my friends..." He set the phone down, and started downstairs.
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"Guess we're early then." Fred begun to walk out of the room. "Its polite, I think, to let the host get here first. In any case, Im gonna wait outside for a while." He stepped out into the hall and leaned against a wall to wait for the finner to start proper.
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James lowered himself into the chair at the head of the table. He pulled his personal salt and pepper shaker closer to him. No one else could use these, it was his biggest peeve.
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Bill was finishing with the oatmeal.
*Good, I burned it...* Bill thought. He scooped a pinch of brown sugar into the foul substance, and set it to the small, ornate bowl. He called for the rest of the staff to help set the table.
*I wish I could leave at night, like them...* Bill thought.
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Rachel watched every move Mr. Mustard made..she noticed the personal salt and pepper shakers, she smoothed out her black skirt of her form fitting dress "what is on the menu sir?"
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"You name it, we have it, young lady. Please, make yourself at home." James picked up the salt shaker, and noticed it was empty.
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"BILL!" He cringed at the sound of his name. He rushed out to the side of the boss.
"Yes, sir?" he asked disdainfully.
"Why is this empty? Are you trying to make me not enjoy my meal with my guests?"
"I'm sorry, sir..." Bill said, picking the shaker up and ducking into the kitchen. He placed the shaker on the counter, meaning to fill it later.
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Rachel felt strange as she watched what happened... the poor wolf man, she turned her attention "isn't it traditional to have it all planned out?"
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she had to excuse herself to 'pretend' she was going to the restroom, instead she sneaked into the kitchen "I'm Rachel...I assume your name is Bill"
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Bill looked up from the oatmeal he was stirring. "Yes, it is... How may I help you?"
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Rachel grabbed a water class and filled it, without saying anything she drank it, smiled and left.
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Sasha cringed at the awkward display she was seeing. She hated sitting so close to James, it scared her but mayhaps getting up and moving would be looked upon as rude. "I see you...r-run a very tight ship here, mister...mister....oh" she blushed and ran her fingers along the bridge of her nose, pushing up her glasses and swallowed. "Forgive me." Rachel, please don't leave me here alone. Please come back...
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"Take you're time, child. At the rate Bill is cooking, we have plenty." James said to the young girl. He leaned back in his chair.
---
*Well, that was strange* he wondered, thinking of Rachel. Bill followed her into the dining hall. "Five minutes until dinner."
He ducked back into the kitchen, and pulled out the salt sack from under the counter.
*Hmm... What's this small rip? Oh, well... Hopefully it's rats...* Bill thought, filling the shaker.
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Rachel sat next to Rachel in her own seat, she clutched her shoulder, a silent smile, then she turned her gaze to Mr. Mustard
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Bill walked out, carrying the saltshaker and oatmeal with him. "Dinner is served." He left, heading to his quarters.
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James looked at the small group of people. "One can assume that you are pondering why I called you here. Well, I'm here to assure you; One of you will be inheriting my entire fortune." He shook some salt into the oatmeal, and glanced up to the shocked faces. He chuckled. "Don't look so surprised; I have no children or surviving family. Who will inherit my fortune? That is for you to work out. How is the meal?" He asked the people at the table.
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Drake picked at his food.
"oh the meal's fine" he lied as he dug around in his pocket for something to occupy his attention away from the man he so despised.
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Sasha picked at the food warily, not having much of an appetite. It was a bit dry, needed flavor. Instead of saying so aloud she tried sneakily to grab the salt shaker in front of James.
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James looked up, and swatted the girl's hand. "No. The guest shaker is over there." He pulled his hand back, and continued to eat his oatmeal.
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Rachel ate, it was okay but not great quality food, she glanced at Sasha warningly
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It was a painful swat and Sasha's hand stung as she turned "could you pass me one of those salt shakers?" she blushed anew, feeling uttterly stupid for not realizing James' personal shakers were, well, personal.
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Fred ate his dinner in silence. It was all right, definately worthy of a mansion dining room. The mention of a fortune inheritance made him nervous. Something was definately wrong here. He tried his best to keep his composure and not let the other guests onto him.
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Bill sat in his private quarters, his appetite spoiled. He walked to the window, and looked at the staff leaving on the ferry. It would be the last one until tomorrow night.
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Drake looked from side to side. An inheritance? That alone could keep him from having to get a real job for a few years! Enough to put some more work on the shelves! He made a grab for James's shaker but James was too fast for him.
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James' spy eyes spotted the young writer reaching for the salt. He pulled the shaker back, smacking Drake on the hand with the ladle. "Mind you're manners, boy." James growled.
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Sasha giggled nervously, kind of funny how he reached for it too. She eventually knocked out her plate of food and politely clasped her hands in her lap, wishing to go home.
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"So tell us. Why, out of all the people in the world, did you choose us four to be, shall we say, candidates for your inheritance? I don't know about the others, but you and I aren't on good terms last time I checked. What is your reasoning old man?"
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"I guess you can say I wanted to make amends." James lied, finishing his oatmeal. "All my life I took advantage of people. I've started to realize the errors of my ways, and I'm trying to make up for it." He stood, and reached for the phone to call Bill.
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Bill had just finished his food when he heard a burst of yelling in his ear. "Bill! Get down here and fetch dessert, before I toss you back out to the streets!" Bill stood, and started for the kitchen.
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Drake rolled his eyes, ridiculous to even think that James had any bit of a soul left in his body
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He is lying... Rachel thought to herself everyone knows he is up to something...I have no intention walking out of here with his blood money, I have the intention walking out of here with Sasha and I safe and alive and him either in the grave or behind bars
Rachel looked at Sasha, she grabbed her hand, squeezing it comfortingly, Rachel began to form a plan in her brilliant mind. she would have to tell Sasha later, but she knew this...she would need Bill's help in order for it to succeed. No matter what, Sasha and she would leave ASAP with our without Mr. Mustard's permission. her sharp eyes took notice to odd, or interesting details in this room, she already investigated her room, finding a microphone and a camera. not having the skill to know how to de-wire it, she left it alone. knowing that her secret plans were not going to happen right away. she wanted to appear that she had no idea she was constantly being watched, listened to, she wanted to appear that she had absolutely no idea about his true scheme. from the past experiences, she had a vague idea that somehow Mr.Mustard knew that she herself was going to be a difficult opponent. just you wait James Mustard... you may be the wealthiest and have clever wit, but I know of your enemies who would love to have you head on a silver platter she appeared to be calm and composed but inside she was planning a scheme that would eventually work. she burned all her secret, most important things. she knew memorization would come in handy, practicing Photographic memory had helped her through sticky situations.
Looking back at Sasha she smiled reassuringly, then winking at her wickedly, telling her that she was up to something.
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Bill walked to the kitchen, and started to pull the cakes and puddings into the room. With the rest of the staff gone, the task took about 20 minutes.