Oliver cursed as he slipped open the manhole cover and crawled into the soothing if not complete darkness of the boiler room. It was quite a damned walk to this school during the day or rather it was a long walk toward this school under the damned ground and clinging to a ceiling, or perhaps more accurately through the sewer system clinging to a ceiling. Brushing his hands on an oily rag he found, and then dusting his shoes lightly, Oliver was glad that he was able to cling. If wall crawling hadn’t been a part of his arsenal, who knows, perhaps he might have even been forced to ruin his suit walking through waste and water filled with said human waste. Ollie had never been more grateful that he didn’t require breath. However besides being totally disgusting, the trip was also a jaunt that Oliver would rather have not taken. But then again when you’re sure you’ve found the perfect duck, well you don’t go back into the pond searching for second bests or second choices. And with this Jerry, Ollie was pretty sure he’d found a hell of a fall man, should any of his plains ever go awry and besides dumb and power hungry was just how he liked ‘em.
Slipping out of the basement, the child vampire did his best high school student impression. Which wasn't that good, all things considered, after all when you look like a nine year old and are dressed more professionally that most high class attorneys, you tend to attract attention.
Of course that was easily gotten ride of beneath the school’s high impact florescent lighting. A lock of the eyes was all it took and students suddenly remembered they were late for class and that they couldn’t remember why they’d slowed down or much of anything about the past few moments. Oliver couldn’t take away anything, but his hypnosis was rather good at confusing things. He’d just been a mirage, a day dream, an odd thought that someone had, had during the course of their day.
Thankfully enough class was in and it wasn’t so hard as it might have been. And in the almost evacuated halls, Oliver walked like a stone cold professional as he got an idea of his target’s current location. When he was sure he moved with grace and stealth until he was almost face to face with his target.
“How are you today, eh Jerry-boy?” His crisp British lit brought a touch of condescension to those words and it was just as Ollie had intended.
Jerry was busy mopping up a mess that one of the little shits had made between classes when the most peculiar thing happened he heard a smart assed child address him.
Turning to look he realized that this just got better as he saw Donald Trump’s mini-wanna-be standing there. It was a very strange thing to witness indeed.
Pausing for a moment, he looked over the child in the suit, easily passing over the initial pedophiliac thoughts that initially crossed his mind.
Then it occurred to him that this child knew his name. Leaning the mop against the wall he wiped his hands on his overalls and said, “Are you lost kid? You have quite a few years before you belong to this school.”
Looking around Jerry was trying to find the person who was playing the joke on him by way of this child.
“Years, huh? I belong here now.” Ollie laughed. He just couldn’t help it; really he couldn’t after all he knew right away that he couldn’t play the child for this one. No, not for dearest Jerry. Oliver had seen that initial look in his eye, could taste it like rotten blood on the back of his tongue. Dear Oliver Quentin Grey had been living far too long and been through far too much to ever mistake that look. That slithering and dismal look, self-ashamed that it was, that Jerry and his type were; oh and what good reason they had to be ashamed. After all one does not look at a child that way. Or at least not one that is composed, sane, and morally upright and righteous. All things that Oliver had no taste for whatsoever and while much like his mistress, Oliver did so have a wonderful taste for pedophiles, this one couldn’t go to waste. Well at least not yet.
Clicking his tongue sharply in a quick three beat staccato Oliver snapped his fingers before Jerry’s eyes. He smiled even as the pops sounded dry and hard like snapping kindling with one’s bare hands and that smile stayed with him as eyes the color of a threatening summer sky shone gray viciousness down upon the man like a thunderstorm as it spelled out the wrath of God.
“Pay attention Jerry-boy. I’ve not come this long way for pleasantries and while I might appreciate a bit of humor, you’ll find that today I’m a hellva tawdry bastard when it comes ta mind’in me manners. I didn’t come for fun and games, conversation, or even that oh so lovely cologne you’re wearing. What is it? Ode de puke and sawdust? The reason I’m here and the only reason, is because I’ve got the proverbial offer you can’t refuse.”
Oliver flashed a sly serpentine smirk then. It gave the nearest flash of impeccably white teeth, but also a slip of glinting fang. Ollie didn’t luxuriate in the expression, instead it was a quick thing. One so quick that dear Jerry might very well be unsure of what he saw in that moment, but it didn’t matter. No. With the next of Ollie’s words he put things clear and precise. Indeed a bit of his upper English/Cockney accent bled away and what was left was simply.
“I have a job for you Jerry. If you accept then you’ll rule like a God damned king on his throne. If you refuse—well let us just say that I work for some people that you don’t want to refuse. You see because you just made a hell of a mistake underestimating me. After all I just met you and I already know you have a little extra love for the kiddies; if you know what I mean. And if the police were to raid your house, your computer, what do you think they’d find in terms of pictures? More than that though, I could make you hurt worst that you’ve ever hurt before and I’m just the tip of the iceberg. I know people that make the leg breakers I want you to rule look like fluffy little kittens and if you don’t believe me…simply tell me no and you’ll find out first hand…”
At some point Oliver’s smirk had become a smile. It wasn’t a very pleasant smile, though. Indeed it was cruel and it threatened crueler things still. It was the smile of a madman, but it worked nicely for a monster too and that was what Oliver wanted to get across, he was a monster and a man, any man, didn’t want to cross a monster. At least not if he wanted the chance to grow old.
