The Mystery Man
Snow’s hand hung to shield his face from the sun, his gaze lingering on the structure before him. The building stood at the far edge of the campus, its red bricks weathered by time and its broken windows catching the sun's rays on its dull blades. Paint peeled and flaked from the doors and wooden surfaces, telling just how long it's actually been abandoned for.
Most students avoided it, mostly due to the superstitions being passed down as the place being hunted, but none of those really mattered to Snow.
His eyes set on the chain linked fence, the gates to it were sealed shut with a big padlock, making it quite impossible to go through the gates. The back gates were quite tall and the top of the fence was jagged and sharp, so he could as well rule out jumping over it. Well, at least not with the jeans he had on.
His gaze fell once more to the narrow opening below, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the inconvenience. With a soft exhale, he bent his knees and dropped down, crawling through the gap without another thought about whether it was worth the trouble or not, the wetness of the overgrown grass slipping between his fingers.
Snow reached for his bag on the other side of the fence and flung it across his shoulder in one swift move. Standing up slowly, he brushed his damp hands against his trousers, leaving faint streaks of moisture on the fabric. He was very particular about cleanliness, but at that moment, there was not much he could do.
His mouth tightened into a faintly sour line, though the expression was soon gone and replaced by the attentiveness that always followed when his senses sharpened. He moved quietly along the bushy stone path.
He moved quietly, making sure to minimize the sound of crunching leaves under his boots. Ahead, the grey van he had seen that morning still parked with its rear against the building. It was still open but the number of crates at the back had significantly gone down in number.
From behind the wall he hid at, low voices drifted just a little loud enough for him to hear. Snow stilled his breath, controlling his movement as to not get caught. At that moment, he gave silent thanks that his timing had not betrayed him, and he could at least still meet them there.
“Load that carefully, it’s worth more than your salary,” one clipped at the other, most likely a newbie.
“It’s already spilled in this one. I don’t think the boss is going to like it.” The newbie replied, his head drooped low.
“Then you keep your mouth shut and keep moving.”
The thud of the crates hitting the ground punctuated the conversation. Another voice was heard and Snow looked over. It was the brawny man who had obstructed him earlier. His voice was thicker and his posture was firm. It gave the impression that he was the one in charge of whatever was going on.
“Keep talking if you want to die. The boss will be here soon. Quickly finish up before I bash your head in.” He snapped at them.
Someone arranged this. Snow thought. But who?
Just then, the wood under one of the crates splintered suddenly and gave way. Long cylindrical cases fell from it, rolling every which way.
It was one of those poster tubes art students always carried around, the ones meant to hold their papers and drawing tools in. But something was different. It looked heavier and a little bit of white powder puffed through the closed lids when they hit the floor.
A few bottles rolled towards the direction Snow hid in and his chest tightened. He was going to get caught if he didn’t move from where he was. The men were already trying to gather up the fallen tubes.
Snow tried to move quietly but the crunch of leaves from where he stepped caught the attention of one of the men.
“Hey, did you hear that?” The man said while scanning around. He then gave hand signals, and the others nodded, seemingly understanding the message he had given.
Snow cursed under his breath. He straightened, feigning calm, but his weight shifted subtly to the balls of his feet. The two by the truck moved first, fanning out, their steps heavy against the bushy path.
Snow had just turned around to make a break for it when he came face to face with one of the men.
The man tilted his head. He wasn’t with the people by the truck so he didn’t know that Snow was currently being searched for.
“Lost, kid?” he asked calmly, though his eyes were cold.
Snow’s tone was mild, he faked the nervousness of a fresher to try and appear less suspicious. “Just passing through.” he said while wished the man just left him alone.
The man was about to say something else when he was cut short by the brawny man from the morning.
“You again,” he said, his eyes narrowing at Snow.
Soon enough, the circle closed in. He was caught. Five men now stood in front of him in guarded poses. Snow’s hand reached inside his coat pocket, his fingers curling around the smooth surface of a pen. He clicked it, ready to move if he had to.
Just then, a low voice cut through the tension and interrupted the stare down.
“Gentlemen,” it said from somewhere behind them, “Five against one is hardly manly, don’t you think?”
They turned and the men visibly stiffened. One half-turned, paling at the sight of the newcomer.
Sulien slowly stepped into view with swagger, the kind that made it seem like he was someone who never hurried unless he wanted to. He stood clad in a long coat, the coat catching the light at the edges.
He was quite calm compared to the situation, his eyes narrowed as if zeroing in on something.
He wasn’t looking at the men. Only at Snow, like the rest of the scene were unnecessary side characters.
The Author has Something to Say
XL: Don’t think saving me gives you points.
Sulien: Who said I was saving you? Maybe I just didn’t want anyone else touching what’s mine.
XL(Dumbfounded): …