The Conduit

Prolouge

The man in grey cut through against the endless tide of commuters with a purposeful stride that no one dared to challenge. He was sharp, clean shaven with startlingly blue eyes and carried his heavy muscular build with a dangerous grace that radiated power. The throng of oncoming people parted before him in an aura of emptiness, no one brave enough to approach.

As the man made his way through the crowds, he thought to himself about how terribly quaint London really was. All these oblivious busybodies hurrying about as if anything they do was of actual significance, utterly ignorant of the wider games being played around them. Still, London was better than most cities, they respected a man's privacy here and it's inhabitants seemed to have acquired a supernatural ability to forget that which is important, which of course adds to the place's value as the stage for all his nefarious machinations. He rounded the final corner and the National Gallery swung into view. People milled around, snapping pictures and posing for cameras; gangs of pigeons strutted the square with the air of ownership. Another uneventful day in the country's capital. He climbed the steps and the elaborate doorway he stepped through seemed to dull the cacophony of car horns and peoples voices to a quiet hum. The man's hard heeled shoes clacked softly on the gallery floor as he made his way through the silenced halls, the sparse scattering of people too engrossed in the creations before them to give him a moments notice.

The man in grey slowed to a stop a few paces behind his contact. He was a slight man wearing a badly fitting suit and spindly limbs that didn't seem quite proportionate to his body. The contact's name was Philip Crave and naturally, the man in grey knew everything about him, every aspect of his life had been laid bare - the man in grey held the strong belief that knowledge is power, so always decided that it was better to ask around a little before conspiring with a new tradesman, particularly in their line of work. After all, murder doesn't mix well with politics.
"Crave?" The man in grey said, his deep, rich voice denying the gallery the silence it deserved.
Crave flinched at the sound of his name, not having heard the man in grey approach.
"Ah" Crave replied, his voice barely travelling the distance between them. "You must be him then."
"Clearly." The man in grey said, his piercing eyes searching Crave's soul. He was a man of few words and preferred to be to the point; those who wasted words tended to bore him. He sensed Crave would be one of these people.
"The assignment?" The man in grey prompted.
"Yes yes the assignment. We will be more than happy to take on the job, providing there is an increase in the original fee. We didn't feel the sum you suggested was nearly adequate enough considering the nature of the job and it's precarious position in regards to the laws on Human/Non-Human Affairs...double the usual rate should just about cover any potential losses we may encounter."
At this last remark, the man in grey raised an eyebrow and took a menacing step forward and Crave involuntarily shuffled back slightly, the fear etched palpably across his face.
"Double?" the man in grey said, a rare crack of emotion shining through as a hint of malice crept into his voice.
"You have the audacity to ask for double?"
As Crave whimpered something unintelligible, the man in grey considered how easy it would be to just break him then and there, but then caught himself before his imagination could take him any further. He couldn't let himself indulge in such a comparatively public setting. Crave flinched again violently as the man in grey raised his hand, but only to retrieve a slim file from the inside of his grey suit jacket.
"The finer details of the assignment" he said as he passed it to Crave who took it in clammy hands and stuffed it into his pocket.
"I trust that the morality of the deed will not interfere with the job's execution?"
"No" Crave quavered, "we have...DEALT with children before and those jobs went without a hitch as usual. This one shall be no exception."
"Good" the man in grey answered, "failure is not an option here Crave, for you in particular. I'm assuming that you value the ongoing health of your daughter, yes?"
Crave went visibly rigid at the mention of his daughter and cleared his throat before responding, "Y-yes of course. I shall oversee the operation personally."
"See that you do Crave," the man in grey said at length "see that you do."
With that, the man in grey spun on his heel and traced his steps back out of the gallery. He allowed himself a rare smile, everything was going perfectly to plan. However, the man in grey was still concerned: the success of this operation was of paramount importance and a single mistake could lead to disaster. The man in grey tried to put that thought out of his mind, it didn't do well to over-worry about things, it lead to a lack of focus after all. Promising himself he would worry about it later, the man in grey rejoined to crowds once again and was soon lost from view in a flurry of coats, jackets and bags.