Leather-clad boots clicked sharply against the thick planks below him, a steady rhythm as both feet kept a single pace. There were no distractions to force the dark pools of warm chocolate from their designated target, the place where he seeked to pass the vial knowledge onwards.
Weary, anxious glances were cast around the room as the shadowy tendrils of his jacket wisped behind him with every swift move of his thin legs. There were the occasional whispers of Is that... or Shouldn't we.... His thin, smooth lips curled into a playful smirk as he felt the burdening eyes of the few.
Best hurry before they catch on!
Feet soon halted their waltz and a flick of his hand resulted on the yellow file, richly plump with the finger-aching notes and bone-breaking diagrams. Scrawled onto te core of the file, crisp and fine in comparison with the final words that emphasised his tiresome work. Underneath the broad, coffe-stained file covers, rested the papers that overall explained:
Mister Ravenlock,
After some long, agonising moments of studying your truly fascinating photography, I, Raven, have found the water to cleanse this fire of intrigue. Each photograph displays the upside-down cross and the same surgical knife however there is another deep-rooted message that you have failed to discover. Simply, use ultra-violet light to see what I mean Mister Ravenlock.
The three photos were almost untouched despite a creased edge, yet the message would still be fresh under the light if shon on.
The first photo on top of the trio bore: Think on your sins.
The next photo would reveal: Your Gods are false.
And the final message, one of a pale-blue eyed, young male, the message significantly longer and smaller yet clearly visible: I am your cure, I am Retribution for your sins.
And the Raven was vanished through the front doors, a series of confused glances between the occupants and the sudden call,
"Captain..."
