2021-12-07 - Definitely Going To Kill Him

It occurred to Alexander, after a few days, that maybe an office on the third floor of an almost completely empty building, one that was still in various states of disrepair to boot, was maybe not the business magnet that he’d hoped.

He was still here promptly at eight-thirty every morning since Perdita had given him the key, he just brought along various repair supplies, and when no one showed up, he spent the days doing minor repairs, instead. His office was spotless, of course. He wasn’t sure it was capable of acquiring dust. The dust was probably eaten by whatever horrible creature nested here.

Alexander idly wondered if he and the horrible creature would be able to come to some sort of accord. Maybe he could bleed himself in exchange for housekeeping. That would actually be a pretty good deal. It never occurred to Alexander to doubt that there WAS a horrible creature, of course. There was always a horrible creature.

But after a few days, he had to admit that the world in general - or even in specific where his own circle of acquaintances and friends were concerned - was not as excited about the existence of his office as he was. So Alexander spent a day updating the website to have his business address, and even took a couple of pictures. Not to put on the website. Just so he could show his parents. They didn’t need to know about the rest of the building.

He was watering the plants he’d brought from home when the door banged open, the sound like a gunshot in the empty building. Alexander jumped and spun, wielding the spritzer like a gun, as the thought ran through his mind I didn’t hear the elevator. But his body was already moving, because the person who came through the door was staggering, falling to his knees and one hand, the other clutching at his chest.

Blood. It splattered on the warm wooden tiles like rain. Too much, too fast; Alexander knew the guy was dying as he bent down. The guy was dressed like a millworker - from the 1920s - with heavy denim suspenders and long-sleeved linen shirt in a dull brown shade. A pork pie hat obscured his features from above. “What happened?” Alexander asked.

The man looked up; his face was a ruin, clearly having been worked over by someone with a grudge and no hesitation in sharing it. “Please--” he said, and the bright red of the blood that came out on the p said that chest wound had reached a lung. “Please, they’re coming.”

Alexander didn’t ask who. Who was a question that would probably answer itself. Instead, he grabbed the guy and hauled him without ceremony into the bathroom, pushing him into the old claw-foot tub and grabbing a towel to press hard over his chest. “You hold this. You hold it tight and stay here.”

The guy tried. He was built heavy, with strong muscles under the shirt, but the strength was flowing out of him with the blood, and his hand shook as he tried to press it to his chest.

But Alexander couldn’t worry about that now; there was a ding from the hall, and he had a feeling that his dying friend had left a trail of blood right to the door. “Stay quiet,” he told the guy, receiving only a groan in return. He reached for the small of his back; the bone handled knife was warm and ready in his hands as Alexander crept to the door and pulled it open enough to peek out.

It didn’t surprise him to see that the hallway was no longer a ‘work in progress’. The paneling glowed, and the strip of carpet down the center was a royal blue that was in its best days, despite the black blotches leading to Alexander’s office. The three men that prowled down the hallway were wolves in three-piece suits.

Literally. Although the hands holding the revolvers were human enough, the heads were a twisted hybrid of man and beast, with short muzzles filled with yellowed teeth, and large, furred ears that twitched this way and that. Deep-set eyes were a strange gold color, catching the light of the elegant electric lights that now illuminated the hallway in a way more reminiscent of a cat than a dog. “Get your ass out here,” the lead wolf snarled, raising his voice to be heard all down the hall. Alexander heard doors closed, and locks slide home. No one wanted a piece of this.

Except, apparently, Alexander. He didn’t want a gunfight in his office, so he slipped out into the hallway, knife in hand, and the three came to a halt, sniffing the air. “Go away,” Alexander told them.

“Give us what we came for,” the leader replied, baring his teeth as the other two brought their guns out. “We don’t need to make this rough. You don’t want this kind of trouble, fella. Not your problem, eh?”

<FS3> Alexander rolls Mental-3: Great Success (8 7 7 7 6 5 4 2 2) (Rolled by: Alexander)

“Not my problem,” Alexander agreed, quietly. He was already reaching out with his mind, a cool wind touching the three of them so delicately that they didn’t even notice that he was walking towards them. Instead, they were focused on the him they saw, still standing outside the door, moving to open it in a silent invitation for the wolves to take their prey. He slipped up to the lead wolf, and the knife flashed out, intending to cut its throat.

<FS3> Alexander rolls Melee-3: Failure (5 4 4 3 1) (Rolled by: Alexander)

Instead, the wolf’s head turned and the jaws gaped open, ridiculously wide, then clamped hard on the wrist of Alexander’s knife hand, tearing into flesh. His scream broke the illusion, and the guns shifted, to reorient on his actual body. “Fuck!”

<FS3> Alexander rolls Athletics-3: Failure (4 3 3 1) (Rolled by: Alexander)

The guns fired, filling the hallway with a roar and the smell of cordite...and Alexander with a couple of bullets. His body jerked twice as lines of fire traced along his ribs, and he staggered back, ripping his wrist further to free it from the clutching jaws. The lead wolf grinned with bloody teeth. “Shoulda minded your own business, pal.”

<FS3> Alexander rolls Athletics-2: Success (6 5 4 2 1)

The wolves lunged forward, and Alexander jumped back, his torso screaming agony - but the prospect of getting eaten alive was enough to motivate his body. He slashed wildly with the knife, scoring a shallow wound on the lead wolf’s nose. The instinctive recoil gave him just enough time to stagger back to his office and slam the door shut, locking it as the three wolves barreled into with tripled thumps. Ugly laughter shivered the frosted glass. “Little pig, little pig, let us in.”

Alexander couldn’t stop himself; the words just fell out. “Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin.” He didn’t even like that story. Never had.

But his lips still mouthed the response along with the wolf on the other side of the door. “Then we’ll huff and we’ll puff, and we’ll blow your fucking house in!”

Except that instead of the inhale of breath, Alexander heard the thumbing back of revolver hammers. He dove for the bathroom as the roar of guns once more filled a space too small to comfortably contain it.

Alexander woke on his face on the tile of the bathroom, his blood slowly spreading into a smear from the bullets that had glanced off his ribs. His mangled wrist added to the mess; he lifted his head to look at the tub. Empty. Of course it was.

Slowly, he clambered to his feet. At least he’d already brought a first aid kit over for this bathroom. He glared into the mirror. “You couldn’t have at least waited until I had a case to try and kill me?”

The mirror did not reply.