*** Mordecai is one of the characters in the Oracle's Verse.
The Oracle's Verse is the first ever collaborative “Crypto-Novel '' and it follows the stories of 6 characters which travel through the minds of their owners, collecting unique journeys that evolve their stories, infinitely. You can learn more about it here.
Mortdecai is on the move. An inexorable nomad. No one knows where he is going, and when they watch him pass they get too bored too quickly to speculate much on the matter.
Boredom suits Mortdecai. It preserves his anonymity more than the mask on his face, which serves another purpose. He is, for all intents and purposes, already dead. Which suits him just fine. He will be soon anyway.
Slowness is too often associated with inaction. Laziness. Incompetence. Too little associated with imperturbability. Determination. A calculated sort of cunning tempered with steely patience to see things through until the end, no matter how long it takes. These are qualities Mortdecai possesses in abundance, and are vital to the success of his mission. He revels in the short attention span of the world, swirling around him like a cloak of invisibility. He wasn’t always so inconspicuous. He feels the weight of the unfamiliar shell on his back and rage propels him relentlessly on. Revenge is a dish best served cold, and Mortdecai intends to serve his on ice.
Mortdecai walked into the dimly lit bar, the sound of rain tapping against the windowpanes providing a steady rhythm to the atmosphere. The barmaid looked at him curiously as he approached the counter, speaking in a low voice.
“I’ll have a scotch on the rocks,” he muttered.
“Coming right up, handsome,” replied the barmaid with a flirtatious smirk.
As she prepared his drink, the music at the bar slowly wormed its way into Mortdecai’s mind, dredging up a long-forgotten memory. He saw himself as a young boy, standing in a cold, wet abattoir, surrounded by the cries of dying cattle. Amidst the moans of the animals, he heard the piercing screams of a woman in peril.
Mortdecai was jolted back to reality by the sound of his drink being placed before him, the clinking of ice against glass filling the air. The waitress noticed his startled reaction and giggled nervously. “Oh, sorry dear, did I frighten you?”
Mortdecai’s gaze drifted towards a table of six, who were snickering at his expense. Attention he did not need. If only they knew what was boiling inside him. Their laughter would morph into terror.
What happened to the others? Read their stories:
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