Dr. Flynn entered the parlour of the Blackthorn estate. He sat on a velvet couch covered in plastic while he waited for the Mistress of the home to greet him. Amelia Kensington Blackthorn was not the eldest most Blackthorn, but she ran the house none-the-less. Eleanor tended to Ambrose with diligence and had forsake the throne ever so long ago when her husband fell to the madness like so many Blackthorns before him. It was a tragic case -- no one knew why they descended into the oblivion of madness but it was the way of the Change, as they called it. Their mutation was of scientific interest for Vaia Plus among other things.
Reginald was current heir to the fortune, and Edmund his grandchild to follow him. Sadly Amelia's eldest son had fallen into the grips of madness early. He like Ambrose was tended to by his wife. They insure their family's secret while feeding them with those who were not missed. And Dr. Flynn was all too glad to aid them in procuring such souls. And today he was here to get that favor back in return.
Amelia in all her glory entered the room with a brisk pace and a haughty voice. He face looked young despite her age -- plastic surgery these days was grand and glorious and she partook of all of it's glory on her husband's dime of course.
She waltzed into the room with a smug smile. "What can I do for you today, doctor?" She sat down in an elegant chair also covered with plastic and crossed her legs while a servant poured her tea and offered Dr. Flynn a cup.
He shook his head. "I won't be staying long." He turned to the elegant madam in the room with a smug smile of his own. "I have come to collect. I need a person off the streets and I don't care how you do it, or what becomes of him. I just need him out of the way -- permanently." He pulled a manilla envelope from his breast pocket and set it on the coffee table. "He is a thorn in my side, and is mucking up my research. Which I might remind you can only help your husbands affliction -- and that of your grandsons."
Amelia looked at him with a sinister look -- like she was trying to decide if he shouldn't be on the next platter she served her decaying husband. She nodded and took the envelope and handed it to the servant. "I will put my best on it."
Dr. Flynn stood up with a smile. "I knew you'd see it my way. Time is of the essense, he gets closer by the day."