Post by Trevor Williams on Jun 21, 2010 11:16:12 GMT -8
Monday, 13 June 2011
4:55 a.m.
Right, left. Right, left. Swivel, side kick. Foot down, swivel and duck away from swinging bag. Swivel back, square off, left punch.
It was bright and early, yet Trevor and, he assumed, half his populace at the very least were wide awake. It was a solemn event that was to take place in just a very short time. He had woke at 4:00 a.m. to make sure he had time for everything in his usual morning routine, and he had been working out ever since brushing his teeth.
Stop. Rest, hands on knees.
The past five months had been leading to this very event. Hours of questioning and torturing Damien Noland in hopes of retrieving some useful information had proven futile, and as the Order apparently lacked the guts and/or the manpower to make the first move, he had decided to go on with this in hopes of drawing out at least the braver ones, the ones he actually had to worry about.
Wipe brow with towel, remove gloves. Pat sweaty hands against towel. Drink water.
It was all routine for the man now, he supposed. Wait for someone to make the first move and when they wouldn't, make it for them. It might be more frustrating than waiting for a target to put themselves in a position where their demise was imminent but they said patience was a virtue, and by Merlin, if someone dared to say he had none, he would simply push this long-awaited event in their face as well as the Warren/Darque issue.
Set bottle down. Head towards the master bath. Drop shorts. Get in shower. Let water roll over his head, instantaneously bringing down his raised body temperature.
A quick glance at the clock on the way to the shower told him it was 4:30. Perfect. He would get out in ten minutes, eat, apparate to Diagon Alley, and find his way to the hangman's noose before Gringott's where he would meet the prisoner. Was it truly Noland? Of course not. He wasn't that reckless. Besides, Noland was still worth something to him, if this went as planned. So, who was it? Some random prisoner that had been tortured to insanity and placed under the Imperius and then polyjuiced so he appeared to be Noland. No one would know the difference until it was too late, and if the Order managed to get off with the man, it was of no consequence to him. There was nothing they could glean from the prisoner. His mind may as well be oatmeal.
Turn off water. Towel off. Put on ensemble of black.
And if anyone decided to be "smart" and attempt to kill him or even imprison him? Well, best of luck to them. Everyone officiating would be wearing the same garments and have the same face--his face. No one would know who the real one was except him by the time anything even began. He would be present to administer the polyjuice, of course. He couldn't have any of it survive to be used by someone with malintent.
Walk to kitchen. Eat. Leave.
And now, it was time for the show. With one last check for his wand, Trevor left his home and apparated to the store front of Gringott's, his hood up. It was time to get everyone ready. It was only five minutes 'til show time.