The Man in Black

[Living_Hellfire]

"I seen'im" Said Skittlecats as she perched on the stool, holding the bar down in Mercy Island's worst dive. "Or, I heard him." She sipped from a brass goblet. "I was doin' a burgle and just as I was about to lift the window I heard the clicks."

 

Girstlefist leaned close and asked "Did you's smell da smoke?" He laid an enormous, pulsating hand on the bar.

 

"Yea, but only after I waited, just a second, and then I was gone."

 

"He did not chase?"

 

"No." She sipped again and  stared into the her drink for a moment. "And I did not burgle."

 

********

 

 

Scott was a drug addict. He hid, mostly in Skyway city amongst the warehouses, picking up discarded Superadine syringes. He slept behind dumpsters, scavenged through garbage for food, but mostly he just tried to hustle to make to the next day. It just so happened that today he hadn't found enough syringes, which left him no other option than to try to rob a Troll.

 

The plan went swimmingly until Scott began to execute it. He crept out from behind the boxes at the entrance to the alley and immediately stumbled into the firelight of the burn barrel and four Trolls turned to look, failing to notice the figure emerging from the barrel fire between them.

 

"Wellity... what have we here?" Ten eyes focused on The Man in Black as he straightened, puffing his cigar. The sickly, sweet blue smoke coiled around his fedora like a halo. He took the cigar from his mouth with two fingers and smoothed down the front of his suit jacket. Flat black, burnt orange pin-stripes. Shoes to match.

 

Scott scarpered. Days later he would attend a meeting for recovering addicts.

 

*********

 

Janice Danvers ran for her life. between the rows of cars in the parking garage, south of the metro in Independence Island. He heart clicked in her ears as she fled from the Tsoo. They were impossibly fast as closed the distance quickly. Janice's heart continued to click, louder and louder as she raced down the slope, bearing left.

 

She exited out onto level one of the garage to a cloud of blue cigar smoke. She coughed and waved her hand in front of her face as she desperately cast about before spying the exit. She had a chance to take six sprinting steps before being knocked to the ground.

 

"Keep goin', lass." Said a voice, crackling with power. The heat was intense, but not enough to stop Janice from getting to her feet and running away from the wall of fire that now blocked passage to the ground floor. She resumed her escape, sprinting out into the street as sirens rose in the distance.

 

She would later tell a story of how Hell itself opened up behind her, saving her life.

 

********

 

Eugene Evans lost his keys again. They were just there, on his desk. He checked his wastepaper basket, but no. He rifled through his drawers, but found nothing amongst the long abandoned notes, paperclips and sick leave forms. He slumped back in his little chair and stared at the drop ceiling, basking in the fluorescent lighting. He only just noticed the barrel of the Beretta in his peripheral vision. The Malta agent was particularly large and particularly calm. He flicked the barrel of the gun upwards and Eugene stood.

The agent pressed a finger to his ear before holstering his weapon and brining out a zip-tie. He pushed Eugene's shoulder, spinning him around before slamming him up against the far wall of the office. "You're coming with me." The agent breathed into his ear.

 

They walked the length of the hallway, Eugene in front, the agent in the back holding up middle of the zip-ties to keep his hostage moving. They rounded the corner towards the elevator and pressed the call button. The elevator ride down was awkward as "The Spanish Flea" played. It was one of Eugene's favourites.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened to carnage and the smell of cooking meat, a smell that was only overcome by the cigar smoke that hung heavy and blue in the air. A man stood in the centre of the lobby surrounded by dead Malta agents, smoking said cigar, the new, fat coils from which encircled his black fedora like a halo. His flat black, three-piece suit hung on him like a mourning cloak as he puffed his cigar and stared into Eugene Evans' soul from behind opaque, burnt orange lenses.

The Bio-Energy Feedback Inducer hit the floor first, followed by the jet-pack and the Beretta that had been held to Eugene's head, shortly after he had realized he lost his keys. The Man in Black took the cigar from the corner of his mouth with the first two fingers of his left hand and blew a final plume into the air as sirens sang in the distance. He was gone by the time PCPD arrived, but both Eugene and the agent held still not daring to move until they could no longer smell that cigar.

 

Edited Monday at 09:54 PM by Living_Hellfire