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Criminal PainterLoading...
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By Nick O.
Legally Escaping Prison
Marquis Saxe’s ears rang as a guard slammed his baton into the bars of the cell. Marquis twiddled his fingers as he sat through a warning on the increased punishment if he continued his way of crime. Marquis knew the book of crime in and out; he was far from his first stint in prison, and he had long tuned out this repetitive song, casting it aside as a trivial concern. He trudged out from the prison, greeted by the tightly pursed lips of his mother. Lips that only opened to let loose a long, heavy sigh. Marquis has dedicated his life to one thing: the restoration of his father’s legacy.
A World War II veteran, Mr. Saxe had a thief ransack his home, searching for a painting, he was killed as a byproduct. Mr. Saxe found the painting, “Salvador Mundi,” in an abandoned bunker during the war. Marquis never believed a mere heist gone wrong could lead to the death of his father, however. Completely convinced that someone had led a coordinated attack on his father, Marquis spent years of his life breaking into various homes and museums searching for the painting, not to mention the years rotting away in prison after getting caught. He had yet to even catch a glimpse of the piece, but his latest exploit into the lodging of Atticus Gunnarson had Marquis spun up like a top.
Atticus Gunnarson was a renowned chess player,
A World War II veteran, Mr. Saxe had a thief ransack his home, searching for a painting, he was killed as a byproduct. Mr. Saxe found the painting, “Salvador Mundi,” in an abandoned bunker during the war. Marquis never believed a mere heist gone wrong could lead to the death of his father, however. Completely convinced that someone had led a coordinated attack on his father, Marquis spent years of his life breaking into various homes and museums searching for the painting, not to mention the years rotting away in prison after getting caught. He had yet to even catch a glimpse of the piece, but his latest exploit into the lodging of Atticus Gunnarson had Marquis spun up like a top.
Atticus Gunnarson was a renowned chess player,
businessman, and philanthropist, but Marquis had always suspected a cold, emotionless abyss behind that pristine exterior. During his break-in, security detail had caught Marquis and shoved him into a four-year prison sentence. Marquis was convinced that Gunnarson had killed his father and stolen Salvador Mundi, all so he could sell it on the black market to make marginal profits. The lengths Gunnarson would go to for a small payday disgusted Marquis; that, along with his grudge forged in prison, compelled Marquis to try again.
1
Legally Escaping Prison
businessman, and philanthropist, but Marquis had always suspected a cold, emotionless abyss behind that pristine exterior. During his break-in, security detail had caught Marquis and shoved him into a four-year prison sentence. Marquis was convinced that Gunnarson had killed his father and stolen Salvador Mundi, all so he could sell it on the black market to make marginal profits. The lengths Gunnarson would go to for a small payday disgusted Marquis; that, along with his grudge forged in prison, compelled Marquis to try again.
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From One Prison to the Next
Adamant on rejoining the hunt, Marquis’ mouth sped on faster than the engine on the way home. Yet, as he turned toward his mother, he saw an unexpected emotion in his mother’s eyes; fear. Ms. Saxe looked panicked and hastily advised Marquis to end his quest for vengeance. Dismissing his mother's constant protests, Marquis ran to his computer right when he arrived home and booked the first ticket he could find to Coxen Hole. The front door opened as Marquis threw his clothes hastily into his suitcase, and a man entered and began conversing with Ms. Saxe. After the murmur quieted down, Marquis, ever curious, crept about, trying to get a good look at who had entered.
His sights soon locked on the back of a man, sitting in his father's old chair at the head of the table, playing chess against Ms. Saxe. The man was accompanied by thinning, short black hair, an expertly tailored suit, a fancy briefcase, and more than a few bodyguards. A confused expression sprouted on Marquis’ face; his mother was a simple accountant, and she did not work for any high rollers. When his mother's eyes flicked up from the chessboard, he no longer saw fear, but pity.
The man turned slowly as if every move of his was planned as carefully as any on the board. The man’s protruding nose, strong jaw, and thick glasses
His sights soon locked on the back of a man, sitting in his father's old chair at the head of the table, playing chess against Ms. Saxe. The man was accompanied by thinning, short black hair, an expertly tailored suit, a fancy briefcase, and more than a few bodyguards. A confused expression sprouted on Marquis’ face; his mother was a simple accountant, and she did not work for any high rollers. When his mother's eyes flicked up from the chessboard, he no longer saw fear, but pity.
The man turned slowly as if every move of his was planned as carefully as any on the board. The man’s protruding nose, strong jaw, and thick glasses
practically oozed with narcissism and the man locked his frigid, beady eyes on Marquis. Before he could introduce himself, Marquis quickly interrupted, shocked that his mother would associate with such a man. “Why are you here? I already served my time,” said Marquis with all the confidence he could muster. Atticus Gunnarson’s eyes bored into Marquis, mining into his heart and extracting what little hope was left. Gunnarson just laughed, cheerfully explaining that there were no hard feelings about the whole shebang, and all the while caressing Ms. Saxe’s hand.
Marquis sensed there was an underlying tone he had yet to pick up on. But then he saw it, and it explained a lot: a fat diamond resting joyously on his mother's hand. Blood rushed to Marquis’ head as he ran out the door, slamming straight into Gunnarson’s extensive security detail. Marquis was picked up and men rushed to contain him and coax him back into the house. Gunnarson sat him down, asserting that Marquis’ break-in had hurt his reputation and his ego and that perhaps they could come to an agreement before Marquis did something hasty he might regret. After all, Gunnarson had never even heard the name Salvador Mundi.
Marquis sensed there was an underlying tone he had yet to pick up on. But then he saw it, and it explained a lot: a fat diamond resting joyously on his mother's hand. Blood rushed to Marquis’ head as he ran out the door, slamming straight into Gunnarson’s extensive security detail. Marquis was picked up and men rushed to contain him and coax him back into the house. Gunnarson sat him down, asserting that Marquis’ break-in had hurt his reputation and his ego and that perhaps they could come to an agreement before Marquis did something hasty he might regret. After all, Gunnarson had never even heard the name Salvador Mundi.
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From One Prison to the Next
practically oozed with narcissism and the man locked his frigid, beady eyes on Marquis. Before he could introduce himself, Marquis quickly interrupted, shocked that his mother would associate with such a man. “Why are you here? I already served my time,” said Marquis with all the confidence he could muster. Atticus Gunnarson’s eyes bored into Marquis, mining into his heart and extracting what little hope was left. Gunnarson just laughed, cheerfully explaining that there were no hard feelings about the whole shebang, and all the while caressing Ms. Saxe’s hand.
Marquis sensed there was an underlying tone he had yet to pick up on. But then he saw it, and it explained a lot: a fat diamond resting joyously on his mother's hand. Blood rushed to Marquis’ head as he ran out the door, slamming straight into Gunnarson’s extensive security detail. Marquis was picked up and men rushed to contain him and coax him back into the house. Gunnarson sat him down, asserting that Marquis’ break-in had hurt his reputation and his ego and that perhaps they could come to an agreement before Marquis did something hasty he might regret. After all, Gunnarson had never even heard the name Salvador Mundi.
Marquis sensed there was an underlying tone he had yet to pick up on. But then he saw it, and it explained a lot: a fat diamond resting joyously on his mother's hand. Blood rushed to Marquis’ head as he ran out the door, slamming straight into Gunnarson’s extensive security detail. Marquis was picked up and men rushed to contain him and coax him back into the house. Gunnarson sat him down, asserting that Marquis’ break-in had hurt his reputation and his ego and that perhaps they could come to an agreement before Marquis did something hasty he might regret. After all, Gunnarson had never even heard the name Salvador Mundi.
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The Second Prison Break
Time sped up, and Marquis was left in a perpetual haze, a feeling of vertigo constantly at the edge of his senses, making him wonder if he was dreaming. Three days of Gunnarson holding him in his own home while accompanied by Marquis’ own mother, left a bitter heart for Marquis. He reasoned that escaping would not be too difficult as an overly confident Marquis believed in his ability to combat ex-militia. His ego turned out to be his savior; Marquis was able to jump out the window; although he hurt his foot and his mother’s flowers, there were just a few guards to deal with.
Quickly crouching behind a potted plant, Marquis was able to hide from a few of the men, but others were soon barreling down towards him. Quick on his feet, Marquis ran for his life, dodging through the outstretched arms of the men and into his car, flooring it. His car bounced like a pinball across the street; Marquis at last gained control of the beaten vehicle, leaving mutilated parked cars in his wake. He breathed a sigh of relief as the silhouettes of the men shrunk to beads in his rearview mirror.
Quickly crouching behind a potted plant, Marquis was able to hide from a few of the men, but others were soon barreling down towards him. Quick on his feet, Marquis ran for his life, dodging through the outstretched arms of the men and into his car, flooring it. His car bounced like a pinball across the street; Marquis at last gained control of the beaten vehicle, leaving mutilated parked cars in his wake. He breathed a sigh of relief as the silhouettes of the men shrunk to beads in his rearview mirror.
Stepping off the plane, the heat hit him like a grenade had exploded inches from his face. Coxen Hole, notorious for rampant violence and the foremost port of the tropical Honduras Islands, is far from paradise, harboring everyone from petty thieves to hot-shots like Gunnarson. Inquiries to the general populace about Gunnarson led to constant talks of his charitable deeds, meaning assistance from the locals was improbable. Gunnarson’s extravagant white villa stuck out like a king between pawns, practically shouting to be seen.
Decorated with hideous chess-themed statues, Marquis hoped they were meant to be ironic. Resigning himself to a stakeout, Marquis witnessed countless people walk in and out, even triple checking some of the famous faces parading with the criminal. Soon night manifested itself, and Marquis found himself breaking in, waltzing through a servant's entrance and straight into a trap.
Decorated with hideous chess-themed statues, Marquis hoped they were meant to be ironic. Resigning himself to a stakeout, Marquis witnessed countless people walk in and out, even triple checking some of the famous faces parading with the criminal. Soon night manifested itself, and Marquis found himself breaking in, waltzing through a servant's entrance and straight into a trap.
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