4 - The Deal

I don't remember how long I slept, only that I could hear them all in my head, laughing hard. Leigh, Nathaniel, the stupid werewolf, and that crazy bastard, Mickey. All of them ready to rip my head off and throw me to the dogs - or werewolf, in this case.

In a fit, I woke, gasping. The same floor, the same dimly-lit backroom for interrogation, even the same pain in my side. Still, I had to get up. Trying to stand up, I checked my pockets. Flip lighter and cigarettes in the first, switchblade in the second, flashlight in the third. Same as before. They really need to learn to check the pockets of hostages.

I glanced around, and spied a clipboard on the dresser. Moving over to it, the pain in my side shot out and I bent over the bed, clutching at my hip. Whatever Leigh hit, I was really feeling it now.

Leigh. That fucking dwarf. Playing dumb for the time being, then strikes when she knows I couldn't get her. Soon as Mickey gave the word, though, she's an obedient little sheep.

I managed to get myself up with difficulty and picked up the clipboard. It had several sheets on it, filled to the brim with information on...

Others.

Here, a Hispanic. Then a Caucasian. Black. She read off the previous victims, that cold bitch. And she was keeping records. Age, occupation, medical, hobbies, familial. Holy shit, they were keeping track of us before we even got here.

I found mine. Twenty-seven, currently unemployed, physically healthy, it goes on. When did they get this, how did they know all this?!

A turning knob and several opening locks brought me back to reality. Shit, they're coming back. I drew the switchblade, primed it, then got near the frame, just behind the door for an ambush. First lock, then second, then third...

The door swung open, and I lunged for the nearest neck. I grabbed it, buckled back, and raised the blade. A scream flew out in some language, flowery and light. Her neck was thin, soft. And it was easy to handle, probably easier to snap.

Before I knew what was going on, I stood there, with my switchblade around the neck of a woman and a werewolf and the big lug looking for an opening. I couldn't let them see my surprise, so I kept my face behind hers.

Her. She had really soft, orange hair, smelled like peach. I couldn't see her face or the rest of her - you know, due to the hostage thing - but she was shorter than me, around neck height. She was shaking, trying not to struggle and get the blade closer.

The werewolf was growling. His fur was a deep brown, almost black, but his yellow eyes were glowing with fury. His teeth, longer than spikes, were bared, and his claws were ready to start on me as soon as I let her go. From the way they were positioned, I assumed they were this woman's bodyguards. Some job.

A good, solid minute of silence passed between the four of us, filled with the wolf's growling, Nathaniel's stare, my thoughts, and her whimpering.

The wolf spoke first. "Okay, I'm gonna give you to the count of five to let go of her before I tear your fucking throat out and shit on it." His accent placed him as European, probably Slavic. It didn't matter much. "One."

Nathaniel cracked his knuckles and smiled, intent on getting his boxing practice. He nudged his head towards the wolf, his neck snapping as well. "I'd do it, Smiley. He hasn't eaten all day."

I felt myself slightly lower the blade, then brought it back against her throat close enough to touch skin. She made a slight gagging sound. "Actually, I was thinking you'd help show me out. See, I don't know the run of this place, and you guys seem like you know your way around."

The wolf was frustratingly silent. "Two."

Nathaniel chuckled. "Yeah, that's a funny joke. Now hand her over and we can get back to beating the shit out of you." He smacked his fists.

I shook my head. "See, here's the thing. You guys might have some weight, but I'm making the demands here. After all," I pressed the switchblade edge, and heard more gagging. "I'm the one who's about slit her throat. And from the looks of it, that's a might bit more important to you than the blood in my body."

Her voice pipped up, and she tried to turn her head to get a look at me. "S-stop…"

The wolf started licking his lips. "Three."

Nathaniel, for the first time I've seen of him, stopped smiling and narrowed his eyes at me. "Buddy, you have no idea what kind of enterprise you're messing with. Do you even know who Mickey is? Do you even know who she is?" He pointed at the woman currently struggling in my hands. "Because you've been stepping into a world that you should never have walked into, never have known about."

"I don't care either way. I want out."

"Four."

He smiled. "Your grand-pappy wanted out, too, son. Didn't do him no good, neither."

"Five--" And on that, the wolf hesitated, as another person opened the door behind them, walked passed him into the room, and stood silent.

I gripped the blade, but had my eye on the newcomer. A decently tall woman, dirty blonde hair with orange highlights, human this time. Dressed in what looked like a weird mix of a flapper girl's dress, a modern coat, and black stockings, she was quite beautiful for what looked to be forty years of age. 'Course, she probably isn't. Her stance and the way that both the werewolf and Nathaniel pretty much fell silent in her presence told me that she might be a big one.

She took a moment to glance at the scene - her underlings trying to weasel their way around a Mexican standoff with a hostage-taking surface psycho.

She clapped, and both the wolf and Nathaniel left the room, quietly closing the door with a *click* as they made their way out. The girl in my hands stiffened, then relaxed within the span of a second. She focused on me, her eyes momentarily darting to the hostage girl, and smiled.

She spoke, and her accent betrayed her as another European, probably Dutch. "Resourceful, I see."

I felt a smile come onto my face. A wild one. "You gotta learn pretty quick, you see."

She gave a quick grin, then turned and walked out, speaking as she went. "We can't let you leave, hun, but we'll at least let you know your co-workers." As she stood in the door frame, she sighed and turned to me again. "You get an hour. Better be taking Mickey's deal, kid."

The door shut behind her, but I managed to catch one last thing she said: "Ain't no one gone through Vince the same way."

I stood there in silence, hands holding tight around a switchblade that was still rubbing against the girl's neck. She tried turning her head again, then spoke. "U-um, I'd probably take the offer if I were you."

I looked at her head, then let her go, lightly pushing her away and keeping the switchblade raised. I finally got a good look at her, too: short, and with long, pointed ears, almost like a fantasy elf. Wearing a soft hoodie, t-shirt, and skirt and leggings into hi-tops. It just occurred to me that she might not actually work here; still, the blade remained high and pointed towards her head.

She was keeping her eye on the blade, but made glances towards me, keeping careful of the distance. She finally worked up the nerve to speak. "Now, I understand that all this might be a bit too much for you to handle…"

I snapped. "No, it's all perfectly clear to me, girl. It's all clear."

She stepped back towards the door, afraid to turn around and handle the knob, in case I decided to lunged. Cautious. This girl knew to be scared, what to be scared of. "But, really, you, uh, you should take it. It's not so bad."

I swung the blade lazily, enough to scare her a bit. "Really? And I'm supposed to trust you? They looked like they were about break my neck just for grabbing you; you think I'm gonna trust anything you're telling me right now?" I pointed at the door. "Realize you're in the same room as a psycho. Start talking, girl."

She looked nervous, nauseous. I think I managed to get the point across. "Okay, so, first things first." She stuck her arm out, hand open. I think she figured she could get a handshake out. "My name is Melissa."

A good minute passed before she realized she wasn't gonna get me to drop the blade, so she reeled her arm in. "Right. Look, we're both in a bit of hot water here; I'm not your enemy. In fact, none of us are."

"Us."

She look confused. "W-what?"

"You're saying 'us', and you're supposed to be on my side?" I said, waving the blade slightly. "Stop it with that shit and maybe I might believe you."

She threw her hands up. "Fucking unbelievable. You see, this is why we're down here!" She hit the door with her fist. "That attitude of 'us or them' ain't gonna cut it here!" She turned to me. "Look, I get it. You are so not supposed to be down here. Neither am I. But we're in the same decaying backroom together and I'm pretty sure that Blue already locked the door on me, anyways."

She took a deep breath. "We need to work together on this."

"...And what's in it for you, anyways?"

She rolled her eyes. "Does it really matter? I want to get out of here - I'm sick of this shit already."

I thought for a minute. Why would they bring her here? She looked barely out of college, let alone one of their cronies, and she spoke like it too. Plus, I need to start making friends, in case I might end up with a knife in my backside or whatever these people intended to do with me.

I hesitated, then lowered the blade. "I'm taking a massive, fucking risk here." I picked up my arm and held out my hand. "But you better not be conning me." She looked at me, surprised that her sappy speech made it through. Smiling, we shook hands.

"If we gonna be buried, we'll at least have close graves."