Into the Void: 2 & 3

2- The Inquiry

"Their rage supplies them with their weapons."

Virgil

"Are you from the Ministry?" Worton Mule asked the tall, dark man standing to the aside of this inquiry into the death of a young woman--her battered body found bound upon that most notorious of the city's trees, which had grown outside of the great old House of Laws--older, still, than before the structure's own rise into this world and the men who would discover its need.

And so, the story goes, that the last man to die here at the hands of a violent mob, named Cedric Martin, was brought here and hung for a crime that he had never committed. It was believed that Old Cedric's Tree still stood as a reminder to those that would daily pass inside that justice must be certain.

"How badly do you really wish to know?" The gentleman, clad in a darkly modern urban suit and continued to wear the wide-brimmed hat low over his brow while indoors. Worton knew that those whom were recruited within the Ministry of Silence were never given any official uniform. Such a need for secrecy had never given Worton much cause for concern, as they were said to be a vital and necessary element of this great new civilization. It was always said that it was better that you had never come to know one of them-- for if you know who and what they are, they most certainly had a just-cause for revealing themselves to you.

"I am sorry Sir, it is only that it seems so irregular to have someone not directly involved with the House of Laws in the room while I perform a death-inquiry." Worton said nervously, sweat beginning to bead up on his brow. "How should I address you?"

"You may call me Shiloh." The man answered with a long and distinct pause, nodding back toward the sheet, and more specifically to what lay beneath it. "And better still that you keep your heart and mind to the task at hand, Dr. Mule."

"Yes, of course." Worton said, forcing a smile to his jowled features as he looked away from him quickly and down to his appointed portion, and lot in life. Dr. Mule had recognized the difference in this inquiry when he had been specifically sought after and chosen to perform it.

Dr. Worton Mule gasped audibly as he pulled back the sheet, his gaze raising back to what of the man's gaunt, and deeply stricken features could be discerned beneath the brim. He appeared undisturbed by what he seen lying upon the examination table.


3- The Death-Mime

"The dreamer can know no truth, not even about his dream, except by waking out of it."

George Santayana


He sat at a distant corner of The Bijou Lounge, staring out through the darkening glass as the afternoon passed into an early  evening's fading light--watching faces as they moved past, until his eye set upon one specific character that was not being caught up and swept along by the vicious gravity of the flow. The man who had introduced himself as Shiloh to Dr. Worton Mule, focused sharply upon the painted lines and features as the peculiar creature seemed to be staring back at him through the darkly tinted, protective glass.

He watched as he began to move away, as if drawn into a macabre dance that did not seem to distract anyone away from the perpetual motion of this city life, and their own place within it. It was nearly as if they were deliberately intending to not see him, this dark and insane looking clown as he moved without a word or sound--spun around in a slow and methodic parody of some faraway tourist, his red painted lips forming a soundless "O" as gloved hands were held out before him. The long black cape startled as he had spun full around, and appeared to have spotted something wholly unusual--his eye seeming to set upon this man, known only to those appointed few that were not his quarry. The tall black hat on it's head cocked aside comically, as it moved in closer and stopped just short of the tinted pane. The man's eyes narrowed as he watched the character grasp both hands about his throat, and then sink down to his knees.

Getting up and moving quickly toward the door, he stopped up short as once the door was opened, the dark clown seemed to have, impossibly, disappeared into these busy, faceless streets.

Uley