The Face in the Mirror (Open to Anyone)

The door to her shop opened, and the sound of heavy boots could be heard. There was a long pause, and then the sound of the service bell rang. A man stood at the counter, though he looked unlike anyone Victoria had seen before. He was of average height and build, and there was definitely something odd about his movement, though it was difficult to place as to why. He wore combat boots and a pair of jeans that were ripped and tattered, stained with a dark red in some places. His unzipped brown leather jacket was well worn, though was nowhere near as torn up as the rest of his clothing and therefore looked out of place. The tattered rag that had once been a white tee shirt beneath it was stained with the same suspiciously bloodlike red color in several places. The man's face looked like it had once been handsome, but now looked just as unsettling as the rest of him. His dark brown hair was slicked back over glittering hazel eyes, his angled jawline was prominent - the tan skin standing out thanks to the off white of the tee shirt beneath it and the white of the mans teeth, which were bared in an eerie grin that never left, always remaining spread across his face. A Famas was visible, slung across his back, although the observant person would notice the lack of any kind of strap or visible support keeping it in place. "I have been told that a good enough jeweler could tell me where something I recently acquired came from. Are you able to help?" His voice, though sincere, had an unintentional mocking tone to it, and constantly sounded as if the man was on the verge of laughter.

The man held his clenched fist out, hovering over her outstretched hand for a moment before opening his fingers, allowing a small gold ring to drop into her palm. It was obviously old, with a worn down phrase etched around the outside, though it was in Russian. Strange carvings adorned the inside, and the ring seemed to hum with a faint energy. The man's grin twitched slightly. "I need to know as much as you can tell me. I'm looking for someone, and this ring very well may help me find him. What can you tell me girly?"

Zack, despite his mannerism, was no slouch when it came to noticing the little things. His grin widened a fraction and one eyebrow rose as he noted her reaction. For a long moment, he simply tilted his head to one side as he studied her. Did she feel my armor? No... She couldn't have. Her touch was too light. But no one has that kind of reaction without cause... Maybe she can sense it? Perhaps there is more to this girl than meets the eye. Zack squinted, though his eyes were able to convey the disappointment that his grin could not. "Russian? That makes sense... That little bugger was a Russian... Though I didn't peg him to be a spell slinger, if he was he only had the one spell... But if it's old then it may be a heirloom of some kind..." Zack suddenly snapped out of his thoughts, realizing he had been thinking out loud. Deciding to change the subject before she got too curious about who or what he was looking for, he leaned in over the counter, though he kept one hand on his hip and the other outstretched with the ring in his upturned palm. Leering suspiciously at her, he tilted his head once more. "Something wrong love?"

Zack wasn't fooled, though he briefly pondered calling her out or not. "Aye love, it is isn't it. But that was a bit of a delayed action isn't it girly?" Zack leaned back again, looking back and fourth between the ring and Victoria. "Occult... Perhaps you could point me in the right direction, love. I've only the one connection to the occult and he's... Indisposed." Zack looked back at her, squinting slightly, the corner of his grin twitching. "You know love, there's something odd about you... Something... Old. You don't look old, It's more of a feeling... Yes that's it. You've an oldness about you. You feel like you don't belong here. Who did you say you were again?" Zack's curiosity was piqued, though he tried not to show it.

Zack's grin twitched, and a dark look flashed across his face for a moment. "In more ways than one, love." Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, it vanished. "I'm too guarded, eh girly? Very well. How about an equivalent exchange? I have learned that it is always a good idea to know all I can about newcomers to this city. In exchange, I shall satisfy your... curiosity? A question for a question. What do you think? To be fair, you've told me your name and what you do, so I shall reply in kind." Zack pocketed the ring, and nodded. "My name... My name was Zack. Zack Wylder. And I fight. I kill when I have to, but not as much as I used to. Now, I protect. For the most part."

"That is a doorway to a rabbit hole, love. One where the light does not shine. Nevertheless, I will answer your question. The Russian is a man named Dimitri, he is a sniper specializing in extremely... unique targets. His spotter is a large Jamacan man by the name of Jhon. Both wear variants of the same armor, and both were sent to kill me. Or take me alive, but that proved... Difficult." Zack chuckled, as if making a joke. "I know why they want me, they are not the first. What I need to know is who sent them. The ones who sent them know how to find the ones who killed me. Hell, they may very well be the ones who killed me. My turn, love. You're a jewler, you likely want people to know you're good. Then why keep all of this..." He gestured with his arms. "In the front? Every jeweler I have seen, not that I am an expert, has been rather keen on keeping their fancy jewels in the front. However, all of these are pure metal. I find that rather odd..."

Zack's expression darkened, and his grin seemed somehow strained, as if he was struggling to remove the expression plastered across the lower half of his face. "Another step down the rabbit hole, love. Your curiosity has gotten the best of you, and now, as our little deal dictates, I must answer truthfully. A little boy is out with his parents, buying clothes for his first day of school..." As he begins his story, Zack's face is strained, and his eyes betray the emotions his perpetual grin hides. His voice becomes like that of a child's storyteller, over enunciating his words as if reading to little children. "The little boy walked hand in hand with mommy and daddy. What the little boy didn't know, was that he had been chosen. You see, the U.S. military has a top secret facility where they are working on lots and lots of super secret projects. But they had a problem. Only a few special people had the correct genetic makeup to have a chance to survive the procedure. So they searched and they searched. They searched high, they searched low. They found some, but their tests didn't work the way they had hoped. So they searched some more..." Zack paused. Though his posture was relaxed, his voice remained unwavering, and his grin as wide as ever, he still managed to radiate feelings of anguish and hatred. "The little boy was walking down the street with mommy and daddy on a nice bright sunny day, and they passed a man. He was tall and thin, he wore a long black trenchcoat, he had a ponytail as black as the little raven's feathers woven into it, he had dark sunglasses, he had skin so pale it glowed, he only had one arm. He passed the little boy, he looked into the little boy's eyes as he passed. He pierced that little boy with his gaze, even though the little boy couldn't see the man's eyes. Then the man turned around. Suddenly, the man had a gun. Boom!" At the boom, Zack shouted, jumping about half an inch forward and waving his hands in front of his face, leering painfully at Victoria. Straightening himself back out, he continued his tale, still talking in that eerie voice. "A man on the street lost his chest, and blood splattered all over the little boy and his family. Daddy was the next to go, he lost half of his face. He was still holding the little boy's hand. Mommy went next, she lost her tummy. Overcome with anger and grief, the little boy did the only thing he could think of. He ran at the man. He wanted that man dean more than anything, so he ran. The little boy stopped short of the man. The little boy was confused: Why did he stop? Then he saw that the man was leaning down towards him. He looked down at the shiny silver wrist emerging from his chest and he realized that the man had another arm after all. That is how I died. If you wish to know why I live again, I will tell you, for half a tale is not worthy of knowing, neither is it worth telling unless you tell the rest." He leaned in, his eyes narrowing, his voice returning to normal after having finished the first part of his story. "Now, my next question, did you make all of these in this shop?"