Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
This is the Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.
It is hosted by Denise and has a strict Six Sentence Limit
Speaking of ‘Penny Dreadfuls’, Tom and I are writing a Serial Six Sentence Story: ‘…of Heroes and the MisUnderstood‘. (If you’re just starting, this link will provide the whole story.)
However, most previously from us (in which Rue and Moonbeam drive to Mooncross Headquarters) and, approaching the location of our Six …from Tom.
Prompt word:
LEVEL
“Damn, we’re at least an hour behind Rocco and Cyrus St. Loreto’s golem, which is not to say I don’t appreciate your helping me with my assignment to check out these Mooncross people,” looking up from her phone, the lead dancer at the Bottom of the Sea Strip Club and Lounge grabbed her companion’s wrist, interrupting his phone’s endless quest to sync to his mind.
“I never thought I’d be using the qualifying expression, ‘As the kids might say’…” Moonbeam’s smile triggered a surprising trill of pleasure as the fatigue of the previous ten hours simply vanished causing Rue DeNite to nearly stumble as she continued, “But, time to level up, dude.”
The door to Mooncross Industries’ Board Room opened to meet Rue’s out-stretched hand; at the end of a seemingly endless corridor lined with engineering suites, workstations and meeting rooms, all furnished in the contrived casual decor of a Silicon Valley Chamber of Commerce video, complete with exotic exercise equipment, arcade-style video games and refreshments.
Rue and Moonbeam stepped to the left to avoid Constantin Szarbo as he left the boardroom, which was to the everyday variety of social mishap involving people narrowly avoiding collision in a hallway as ‘a squirrel and a wood-chipper crossing paths, apologizing and continued on their way’; an impeccably dressed force of Nature, had God not yet created flaming swords, He’d have sent Constantin to evict a certain young couple overstaying their welcome in Eden.
“You, I know,” looking at Rue with what might be described as ‘clinical dispassion’ were it not for a dark smoldering in his eyes that howled of the jungle primordial, Constantin turned to Moonbeam, “You do not matter; Mr. St. Loreto has instructed me to offer to accommodate your return home, provided I am not delayed in my return, so you must…”
As the door reluctantly hissed closed behind Constantin, Rue caught a glimpse of Rocco who stood next to the girl, Isla, her hand, touching his, spoke volumes; Rocco was focused on someone or something just out of view in the shrinking trapezoid of the closing door.
“…decide now.”