The Wrong Goetica

Chapter 2- Striker Strikes

Warning- this chapter contains descriptive gore, read at your own risk.

~ Earlier that day ~

( Camera pans to outside the Ars Goetica family home. Along the southern edge of the property is a small alley way where trash is left for the weekly garbage takers. Dry, rough humming can be heard along with a familiar malicious rattling and the clicking of spurred boots. Striker walks down the alley, one hand holding his rifle against his shoulder, his other, dragging his clawed finger nails along the old bricks that make up the alley walls. He finally reaches the dead end of the alley and looks up, a rusted and damaged metal ladder is several feet above his head. Striker secures his rifle strap against his body and with a rattle of his tail along with some quick foot work, the reptilian imp clambers up the wall, past the broken ladder and just barely grabbing hold of the edge of the wall with his nails. With a grunt, he pulls himself up and drops down into the grounds of the Ars Goetica Mansion. )

Striker : *clicks tongue*. Easy as taking candy from a whore...

( Striker sniggers to himself before quickly rolling into some bushes that are against the side of the mansion, he looks around and notices a convenient drainage pipe that's connected to the roof, he nimbly climbs the pipe, stopping half way to peer through a nearby window, he can see his target, Prince Stolas talking to someone at the front door. )

Striker : Hmm... Swan bitch herself said he was going to be alone today... why the guest?.. I thought he was a loner.

( Striker shrugs to himself and continues his climb, noting that even with an extra guest, he could easily take out Stolas without the unexpected guests interference. He pulls himself onto the roof and surveys his surroundings. He needed a hiding spot with a clear shot of the target. He notices some pillars nearby holding up the Master Bedrooms balcony. He grins to himself. Perfect. Striker slips underneath the patio and behind one of the several marble pillars that hold up the balcony and began settling in. He didn't know how long he'd have to wait for a clear shot. But this was as good a place as any. )

Striker : heh.. good spot. That princey is as good as dead with this Angelic Rifle. Now... where... oh where... are you.. You can't hide from me.. Prince Stolas..

( Striker sighs to himself, he'd have to wait for his moment. He slides down the collum with his back, knees still bent, ready to spring into action and waits patiently.. Stella had told him that the Prince frequented the garden daily to feed his plants, so he was hopeful this wait wouldn't be long. )

Striker : cmon... cmon... hurry up you fuckin' long legged blue blood. I ain't got all day to wait for your lonely ass.

( he decided to light a cigarette while he waited, the breeze tonight was pulling away from the garden where he was hiding, so the smoke wouldn't be visible from inside the grounds. Bringing the cigarette to his cracked lips, he clicks his lighter to life and breathes in the ever familiar and calming nicotine. )

Striker : *deep inhale of nicotine* ahhh... one of the only things this shit-house pride ring is good for, decent cigarettes.

( he strums his nails on his rifle, which has been placed on his lap in preparation for his shot. The Carmine blessing tipped rifle, a brilliant amalgamation of engineering and brutality. It doesn't just kill things. It disintegrates them. The carmine tipped bullets are made from weaponry left behind by the exterminators. They leave their victims poisoned with blue mist, one of heavens... deterrents. It permanently destroys the host its shot or sliced through. A perfect weapon for an Ars Goetica Prince, Striker thought to himself.