The Calling Card [Marcus G. Pryce]

[The Master]

The weather above was not very appealing; the dull grey clouds seemed to drift aimlessly within the limitless sky. The weather as of late had not been great, the rain had made an appearance more than a few times during the week and area had still not recovered. Meaning there were numerous puddles spread throughout the small village of Devize, it was not uncommon, yet it did not make it any better.

It was evening time and the wind was starting to pick up, sending bitter chills down the backs of all those not wrapped up in some sensible clothing. The streets are almost silent, if it was not for the odd car passing by on the road or the echo of footsteps from the odd pedestrian. You yourself are out in the streets, be it coming back from work, getting a can of soup from the shop or just enjoying a quick walk. Your pace is sluggish as you move through the bitter winds, passing a few shops you know and a few recognisable areas. Yet none of this really registers within your head, there is one thing are the fore front of your brain. The calling card, it had been in the news for the past week or two now and had caught the attention of most of the world. Seeing as people that attain these cards normally end up going missing, and for that reason a £ 100,000 pounds have been put up as a reward for anyone that can figure out the connection between the cards and the disappearances. Whatever is the connection between the two you are not too sure, perhaps you do not care, though for a reason you hold onto the card. Be it the chance of excitement, or the mass amount of money up for grabs.

You carry on with your walk with little interruption, then as you come to the corner of the road you hear it. The ringing of a phone, though not your mobile. For a moment you are still as you listen to the sound, and eventually you turn to face where the sound it coming from and perceive the reason for the racket. Now you see the payphone, it seems like any other, with its bleak exterior and the odd bit of graffiti upon it. The only difference being the loud ringing sound it made as without reason, now only you lingered on the street with this phone box. Now the image of the calling card lingers in your mind, after all, many people say it looks like a payphone card.

[Marcus Pryce]

There Marcus stood, wrapped in his long black cotton jacket, the collar turned up and a scarf around his neck, neatly tucked into his jacket. The slight wind rustled through his short hair and his cheeks were a slight red from the cold. Marcus had been out for a solitary walk to clear his mind of the stress which usually rested there. There was no Cinder or Frost to escort him on this walk, much to the protests of his wife Alyssa. She generally did not get along with Marcus' two female assistants, but she did recognize the usefulness of them both. Cinder herself had pulled Marcus' butt out of the fire more times than anyone could have counted, but Marcus was a creature with a lot of pride and having a nanny follow him around all the time just felt absurd. Besides, Marcus was both resourceful and sly enough to keep himself somewhat safe from would be assassins or kidnappers. He just needed to get away from his world for a bit, especially since he had received that odd calling card. It had just showed up on his desk one day, no envelop or box, just an oddly decorated calling card and nothing more. How anyone had gotten past all his security and left the thing behind was beyond Marcus and the only conclusion he could come to was that some mutant was behind this odd act.

The news had been going on and on about this calling card for weeks now and the police had even offered up a sizable bounty for any information of the things. It seemed people from all over were getting these cards left for them and then shortly after, the people themselves began to vanish into thin air with no explanations. The disappearing part really intrigued Marcus and while he was somewhat worried, he tried not to let that feeling dictate his actions. Whoever was carrying the recipients of these cards off would come for him sooner or later and heaven help them if they thought they could snare the great Marcus Pryce.

The ringing of the payphone was oddly loud and seemed to drown out everything around Marcus. Something certainly wasn't right and it didn't take a genius to figure that one out. The streets were too empty and for the life of him Marcus could not remember passing the phone box at all. Someone or something powerful was at work here and it had finally come for Marcus. Instinctively Marcus put one hand in his coat pocket and felt the calling card resting there. The plastic was cold despite its warm hiding place and Marcus sighed heavily as he ran his fingers over it. The ringing of the phone continued, still loud and clear. From the length of time which had passed from its initial ring, the caller wasn't about to hang up until Marcus answered. The manipulator was now the one being manipulated and that fact just didn't sit well with Marcus' ego. His stomach churned and the back of his neck grew hot with anger and worry. He swallowed hard, giving a look around at the empty streets. There wasn't much to do, but answer the blasted phone and see just what fate had in store for him.

Taking several slow steps toward the phone box, Marcus continued to look around at the shops and buildings which lined the streets. No lone figure on a cell phone could be seen, but that didn't mean anything. With a nervous hand, Marcus pulled his hand and calling card from his pocket, stopping at the phone box for just a second to look the card over one more time. Just a strange design and nothing more. Finally, with one more unsure step, Marcus stepped inside the phone box and picked up the phone's receiver, putting it to his ear. He said nothing for two or three seconds, hearing nothing over the receiver as well. Then, giving his dry lips a lick with is tongue, Marcus answered, "Hello....."