Firefly likes the feeling of the wind. Firefly also speaks to me much more than Bottlecap does. I met Firefly two weeks ago during a heist gone bad. I was lifting some...incriminating evidence from the target's seven-story casino. The Dinner Guest took nearly all the profits for himself and only barely paid his bodyguards, much less any of the employees of the casino itself. That night, he was alone in his inner sanctum, counting the afternoon's earnings and giggling madly to himself. I had been told to find something that could humiliate the Dinner Guest in public from someone I only knew the voice of. I never know why I do the things I do, but I do them anyway. I am good at following orders.
The Dinner Guest was drunk and it was easy to gain access to his room. He lounged, sprawled, like a comatose sloth, on his bed, the TV on and flickering between mindless news stations. A pile of bundled dollar bills lay next to him. Despite his alcohol-inflicted stupor, the Dinner Guest was aware enough to realize when I has come into the room, and he was paranoid enough to know I hadn't come with good intentions. He rose from his squalor and picked up a blade from his bedside table, and that's when I first heard Firefly's voice. He spoke to me, softly, like a lover, and in the blink of an eye Firefly was in my hand and the Dinner Guest was attempting to flee towards the window. Give me to drink, whispered Firefly. I sank the blade up to its hilt in the flesh between the Dinner Guest's shoulder blades, and Firefly's thirst was quenched.
-Amontillado
