The Master Finale | manxman | (Book Four: The Master Collection)

X - The Man Named Broderick Thorne

The man's name was Lincoln Smiths, he was forty-seven years of age, and lived within the village on the outskirts of Banemount. His house wasn't too close in proximity of other residences, so the hopes of staying hidden were strengthened by that fact. Given he'd require his transportation for this type of job to remain hidden, Timothy traveled out after sundown. He left his own personal coach a comfortable distance from his target's home and any nearby road.

The day before, he'd been approached by Lucian Grimoire, Simon's lover, and was pleaded with to teach a man named Lincoln Smiths a valuable lesson. Apparently one night while Lucian was returning home late in the night, he'd been harassed by Lincoln who, while in a drunken state, had seemingly mistaken Lucian for a young woman, only to beat Lucian senselessly for "deceiving him" and "luring him" into committing such sinful acts when he sexually assaulted the now tramatized Lucian.

Lucian had been too fearful of telling Simon about the altercation, so took to Timothy's ear enable to get this justice settled.

So here Timothy was, stood before a stranger's home while the entire village was asleep. Tonight, his dark black hair was tied back into a low ponytail, and he had a scarf tied around the bottom half of his face to shield his features. He was dressed in black everything from head to toe, a precaution to make sure he could blend in with the darkness of the countryside.

Already familiar with the layout of the plot of land, Timothy kept his eyes ever watchful for anyone at all who could be wandering the late night. He stepped quietly as he could through the land at the rear of the house, a moderate-sized home big enough for a single man without any family. It was made of red brick, but looked black beneath the moon, the backdoor in full display the moment Timothy emerged from the bordering brush.

There was a broken down buggy in the yard, chickens cooped up, and a small pen for two pigs lain in the wet sludge. When Timothy was stood before the door, he turned the knob slowly to check if it was unlocked. It wasn't, so he pulled a beneficial tool to assist him in the stealthy break-in. It was a lock-pick, and while he knelt down to the key hole in the door, he turned the tool precisely enable to gain entry.

Once the lock was tampered with, Timothy tucked the tool back into his pocket and entered, closing the door behind him. It was as quiet as a cavern in the house, nearly anyway, as he began to hear the distant snoring of a man. Stood in the dining area, he moved slyly out of the modest kitchen and into the narrow hall. There was a stairwell to his right that led up to a pitch-black second floor, while further ahead of him was the sitting and study areas.

Since the snoring was coming from upstairs, Timothy went on and slowly climbed the steps. To his relief, none of the stairs creaked under his weight, that is, until he reached the first floorboard. It squealed under his weight and for a moment he froze where he was.

Swallowing hard, Timothy listened for any disruption in the man's sleep, but when the pattern of the snoring continued, he did as well. There was an empty storage room down towards his right, and the bedroom his target was in fell off to the left. He followed the weary sounds until faced with a cracked door and he peered inside.

There Lincoln Smiths lay sprawled across his bed in his sleepwear, one foot hanging over the edge while he slept with his mouth open. Timothy pushed the door open a bit more and entered, nearing the bed and took a rag from his back pocket. It was red, about the size of a dusting cloth, and when he was close enough, he leaned over the snoring man and stuffed the piece of fabric into Lincoln's mouth.

Almost instantly, the man jolted awake, but was held down before he could flail and Timothy pinched his nose. Lincoln squirmed erratically in the bed, trying to make any noise louder than his hushed grunts, but with both of his air passageways blocked, there was nothing he could do.