Unexpected Situation

There are things in this world that seem fantastical, whimsical, or down right magical.  However in my life I never found myself one to buy into such things.  Too much logic, too much structure of reality, and down right too much work to be done.  So I made my way through life nose to the grindstone and feet firmly on the ground.  Never having time for relationships or friends, I went through the world practically leaving zero foot print behind except for the empty pizza and beer boxes in my apartment’s dumpster. 

 

However I found myself one night dragged out from the structure of normality by a group of coworkers.  Closest things to confidants I had, they convinced me to go out to this little pub known as “Paddy’s”.  A more stereotypical name for a pub I couldn’t recall.  They dragged me out for a few pints, “Only an hour or so” I had said, so confident that my will power was strong enough to step away from the group and return to my cave of solitude.  However a pint became a shot and an hour turned into a few, the lovely red head from accounting probably didn’t hinder the allure of the night out.  

 

As the group conversated it occurred to me that it was my round and I had made my way to the bar.  That is when I met him, a strong built lad standing just a bit over six feet, he had long curly hair the color of worn wheat.  It was pulled behind his head in a half rush pony tail that saw far too many strands falling into his face.  Despite the hair you could make out soft honey colored eyes that showed a kindness and sadness behind them, despite the hardened stance of his brow.  I could confidently say being secure in my own masculinity, he was a lovely lad.  The type women swoon over and men brood over.  However, dressed as he was in dark trousers, crimson button down shirt and a black waist coat, he looked something out of an Anne Rice novel.

 

The voice of the bartender asking for my choice of poison startled me back to reality, my jolt enough to gain “Lestat’s” glance.  I ordered up another pint and made my way to rejoin the group.  However from that moment there was a nagging sensation in the back of my brain, something that screamed equal parts allure and danger.  I turned my attention back to the table of cohorts and pushed the sensation as far back as I could muster.

 

Time passed as it tends to do and before I realized it, the time warned by Semisonic was here.  My group had dwindled significantly in number but the last few of us stumbled our way down the streets.  An uber would have been simpler but a walk downtown surely has never gone awry before, and every moment spent chatting with aforementioned red head from accounting was a moment not alone in my apartment.  I had offered to escort her home, for her own safety of course.  

 

However as we made our way through one of the countless alleyways a rattling noise was heard.  I remember looking for the noise, seeing a glass bottle rolling across the way, expecting to see someone step out of the darkness.  I braced myself for the mugging, but instead I just heard a soft gasp, never even realizing that it came from myself.  The sound, the air from my lungs escaping as I looked down and saw a hand protruding from my chest like a scene from Alien. I felt myself fall backwards into the chest of a man. My face turned allowing me to gaze upon the figure.  His face grizzled and worn, hair dark, a short and neat beard.  I remember hearing sounds, something about “Nothing personal, just wrong place, wrong time”.  Then I saw a few steps further away was the red head.  A figure in black had also grabbed her, something about “A debt owed”.  I felt him push me off his hand, discarded like an old glove, falling face first onto the asphalt, then just darkness. No light at the end of a tunnel, no warmth of sun beams, just darkness.  

 

My next recollection was of “waking” in what appeared to be a makeshift study or library.  There was a desk, thousands of papers strewn across it with some sort of makeshift sense of organization.  There was a dim lamp on the corner, precariously too close to the edge for my liking.  The walls of the room were grey and bleak, almost concrete looking in nature.  Behind the desk was a single high back chair and seated in the chair I saw the image of “Lestat” as I had come to call him.  His hair was more of a mess, there was also a cut below one of his eyes as though he’d be in a bit of a scuffle.  He had an intense stare upon his face.

 

“Did you see them?”  His voice was softer than I expected, a deep sadness in the tone. It seemed such a simple question though, how I wish I had known the ramifications of it.  “I did” I responded, there were so many questions that I had, yet despite my need to ask them, and desire for answers, the only words that came out were the answers.  “You saw me at the bar didn’t you?”  His glare softened slightly for a moment.  “I did” I answered, I tried asking who they were, what happened to the red head from accounting, why I couldn’t remember her name at any point during this recollection, why I didn’t even remember my name.  “You shouldn’t have been able to, not many can.  Means you had the sight, that could be useful.  I will keep you around.”

 

What do you mean keep me around!?! What happened?!? Who are you?!? All valid questions, all refusing to come out.  Instead all that meeked out was a simple “Ok”.  “You lived your life trying to blend in so badly, to not be noticed, and the one time you finally break that habit you ended up dead.  I shall return you to the existence you craved.  You have questions, but questions are for those who lived amongst this world, no your place is not to question it is to witness, to record what occurs around you.  You shall serve that role for me, you shall be known as The Witness.”

 

I feel my consciousness shifting, my self zooming out and seeing where I use to be in almost a third person state.  However where I stood no longer was a being but rather a golden orb of light. The orb fades, I fade, slightly and wisps its way towards a pen that’s being held by the golden haired person.  As the orb connects with the pen it seems as though the pen absorbs the essence of light. As the light fades I too expected to fade, but still I see from above. I am unable to speak, unable to think independently, but I remain, watching….no, witnessing.  

 

We turn our attention to the golden haired man, he has taken the pen in his hand and placed it near his lips.  Speaking softly he says “Show me the being that ended your life.”  With those words he sits the pen down on the near by desk.  The pen stands up on it’s own and with deft speed scribbles on a piece of paper a near perfect image of the person we saw before.  The one with the short gruff beard and dark eyes.  The one who turned our Witness into a meat puppet as it were.  The golden haired man takes the picture and makes his way to the nearby wall.  There we see a cork board put up on the wall.  There are several other pieces of paper on the board, some look to be police reports, others news reports, and others pictures of crime scenes.  The golden haired man pins the picture of the assailant to the cork to join the rest of the clues. We’re given the impression that this is far from the first death to occur in this manner.  The question is mainly why?

 

“If it was a debt they were collecting, then why kill the bystanders?  Why not just trail them until clear for a moment and then collect.  The dead can’t pay debts….unless of course you’re collecting something other than money.  That leaves either collecting soul maybe?  Demon maybe?  No, very unlike a Demon to collect something themselves, that’s what the hounds are for.  Also once again, why do you need the collateral damage?  Demon can just wait at the person’s home for them.  Instead they had at least four assailants, the two I was fighting, the one who killed my Witness, and the one who took the woman….”

 

The golden haired man gets a sudden grimace on his face, shakes his head slowly and sighs.

 

“It’s not a debt of money, nor is it the soul…the debt is a life.  They spare her and in return she provides them with another.  She’s a bloody lure, that’s why they take the bodies, they’re not disposing of evidence, they are consuming the evidence.  Well shit, that makes this a little more complicated, greatly increases the possibilities of what they are.  At least Demon there’s like two options, but when it comes to things that like flesh, well could be any number of bullshit and each one has their own flavor of death.”

 

The look on the man’s face contorts again as another grim realization appears to have occurred.

 

“I had stopped at the bar for a drink and clear my head, I only took notice of the red head because when she came to grab a drink her aura was dark.  The kind of dark that normally means death is coming, I had assumed for her, but no, she knew the entire time what was going to happen.  Yet she never appeared in any of my investigations into the previous victims.  So that begs the question…how many traps are these people using?  How many are there?”

 

The man furrows his brow and leans his head forward, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“It’s going to be a long week”

 

“Yew could say dat again mon amie!”

 

The golden haired man snaps his head up and looks towards the doorway.  Standing there is another man, dark hair that’s pulled back into a pony tail, but a single strand laying infront of his his face.  He’s dressed in a purple silk button down and black jeans.  He’s wearing a pair of black boots that have the emblem of an ace of spades on the side embroidered in white.  In his left hand he’s holding a flat brimmed hat by the brim.  He has leaned himself back up against the frame of the doorway and has a bit of a smirk on his face.

 

“Father damn it Devereux, I’ve told you about sneaking up on me!  It’s a good way to get shot!”

 

“Oh Az, yew not gunna shoot lil ole me!  I’s too fast for dat anyhows.”  The one called “Devereux” swirls his hand on a finger as he chuckles.  “I’s bring as dey say, news.”

 

The one who was referred to as Az takes a couple steps over to the desk and sits on the corner.  Shaking his head and trying to hide a smirk of his own.  “I don’t like when you bring me news Cajun, you bring only bad news.”

 

Devereux puts a hand over his head and acts as though he’s going to fall to the ground “Yew wound me mon amie, a dagger to me heart it is.  Dis how yew treat me afta all dese years?”

 

“Yeah yeah, just spit it out already Tobias.”  The smirk that Az was forcing down, disappears more naturally as Tobias’ sarcasm has warn itself thin in the given circumstances.

 

“Aight den, no need ta hiss at me like a damn cat.  Dere be someting strange goin ons in Philly mon amie.  Someting not quite right.”

 

“There’s something not quite right every where Cajun, maybe you have been at the bottom of a bottle too long to remember that.  Hell I’ve got at least a dozen bodies stacking up here right now from father knows what.”

 

“Dat might be so mon amie, but ole Tobias, seen many a ting, but one ting he aint neva done seen is an entire company just appear outta no wheres in about two shakes of de lamb tail.  One dat claims to have all dis history and has always been, but ole Tobias know betta.  Yews de one dat gave him de burden of sight so ole Tobias just usin it.”

 

Az gives a long drawn out sigh.

 

“What’s the name of the company?”

 

“Dey call themselves Cee Dubya Eff”

 

“Wrestling?  Oh for fuck’s sake, not wrestling again!  We’re supposed to be done with that shit man, you know how hard it is to keep a low profile while being on television?  Do you not understand the rules and regulations that come with the abilities I’ve been blessed with?  I can’t just go running off and smash in some heads like you use to.”

 

“Dat seem like a yew problem mon amie, I’s just in charge of gettin de info.  What yew do wit de info is yew problem.”

 

Tobias gives a great big smile and spins around his hat before putting it on at a slight tilt. “Sides mon amie, maybe it time for people to remember “De Fallen” Azrayel Cadeecoose.”

 

“Father help me, your accent brutalizes my name worse than the rest of the english language, that is the ONLY reason I let you get away with calling me Az”

 

Tobias just laughs as he turns on his heels and heads out the door. “Yew always talk big Az, but yew know yew miss me.  Don yew worry none, ole Tobias done called dat Amelia and got yews foot in de doorway as it were. Yew just be dat normal charmin self and yew gunna be juss fine.”

 

Azrael puts his face in both of his hands as he leans forward and just lets out a scream of frustration. “FUCK, I don’t have time for this shit!”  Azrael gets to his feet and kicks at the desk launching it up in the air and slamming against the wall.  He storms out of the study and into the darkness, we can only assume to book a flight to Philadelphia.