The Great Game

If you’re new to the Great Game, please have a quick look at the blurb to your left, where you’ll find a short catch-up introduction!

The Gentleman grins. “I’d expect no more. So. How will you pay? With body, mind, soul or existence?”

I arch an eyebrow, and try to look cool. “Do I get a receipt?”

He laughs again. “No, but I can offer a you a 30-second head start if you prefer.”

I find a grin for the Gentleman, stifle a sense of foreboding, and say “Body, on the express condition that I will not be maimed, disfigured, crippled, made ill or killed.”

“Not through any direct or indirect action of mine,” he says.

“In that case — and only that case — then it’s a deal.”

He nods, and says “So be it.” He holds his hand out in a clear invitation to shake on it, so I do so. I’m not sure if the faint wrenching sensation I feel as our hands touch is my imagination playing tricks or something else. Then he releases my hand, and says “I will collect one physical service from you at a time and place of my convenience.”

I nod back, and suddenly feel sick as the enormity of what I’ve just done hits me. What the hell was I thinking? I assume he can’t make me kill myself, but what if I have to do something hideous, like murder Alice or something? Maybe there was something in that coffee…

The Gentleman seems amused by my reaction. “You will of course be bound to obedience, when the time comes. That is the usual way.” He’s not making me feel any better. “In the mean time, do try not to get yourself killed or what-have-you. The living make much better servants.”

“I’ll do my best,” I say, my voice rough.

“Champion,” he says. “Now, my end of the bargain. You need to speak to David Sinclair, and you’ll find agents of his throughout this hall, dressed entirely in grey. Fittingly, they all take the surname Grey, so if they answer to the name of Mr. or Ms. Grey, you can be confident regarding their identity. Just so that you know, Sinclair typically requires memories as payment. I wouldn’t want you having another nasty shock. You might keel over, and that would never do.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

He tips his hat mockingly. “Good day.”

“Yeah,” I manage.

Alice, is sitting on a comfy couch a short distance away, looking curious. I lurch over there, and sit down next to her. There’s a pitcher of lemonade on the table, and some sandwiches.

She turns to me. “Are you alright?” I lean back into the couch, and groan, closing my eyes. I can feel a chunk of spongy stuff pressed into my hand. “Have a sandwich. It’ll help.”

I open my eyes and glare at her, but take a bite of the sandwich. Cheese and tomato. It’s delicious. I look down at it suspiciously, and then have another bite. I can feel my fear and anger fading again, and try to cling on to them a bit. “That was a bloody shambles.”

“What happened?”

“You could have warned me,” I say.

“I did.”

“Not about him. About the coffee. And the food, I guess.”

“What?” She seems genuinely confused.

I try to sneer, but finish off the sandwich instead. “It’s way too relaxing. It must be drugged.”

She smiles, and shakes her head. “Oh, no. It’s the chairs. They relieve stress. The food is just good.”

“Oh.” I take another sandwich. “Well, anyway, I took a horrible risk, and now I owe him a service of some sort. A physical one.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

You never know, I suppose. “Well, maybe it won’t be. I got the information, anyway. We need to speak to a guy called Sinclair. He has people in the hall. Greys.”

She blinks at me, startled. “Aliens?”

It’s good to laugh for a change. “No, sorry. People called Grey, dressed in grey.”

“That’s a relief. I hate those fuckers. So what’s our next move?”

Today’s photo: The Man in the Grey Suit by katstan