A Metallic Abstraction

Khan · March 2014

Chester snapped his fingers. "Oh, the fact that you're not touching the ground reminds me. We should figure out how the new Fy work, see what they can do. Who knows, they might come in handy."

"I don't think I can do that much," Harold contributed. "I never run out of anything I drink. Oh, and I can make more of a liquid by touching it."

"Interesting, more strange than helpful though. Henry, have any idea how fast you can fly?"

envydei · April 2014

"Umm, not too fast I think." Henry pondered for a moment before turning down the hallway. Though he seemed to be going fast, his flight only was as quick as his normal running pace. "That's about as fast as I can go." He called from the other end of the hallway. He flew back toward the other two, "As for your power, Harold, I can think of some good use for that. You can break the law of conservation of matter man! Come on! We can just hang out by a gas station and get rich!"

Khan · April 2014

Harold considered Henry's idea. "Yeah... Yeah! Hey, that's awesome! We should go-"

"I'm dying," Marshal growled, "from a demonic virus. Get your sh*t together and let's go." He snapped a magazine into his pistol before re-holstering it and walking out the door.

"Hm." Chester gave a tight-lipped nod. He wasn't about to mess with Marshal, given the current circumstances.

A couple of the Beltanes were familiar with the general location of L'Abattoir ((E5)), and with a minimal amount of searching they located it. However, even upon finding it they were not quite sure they'd come to the correct place. While they had been expecting flair from a 5-star restaurant, what they found was essentially a small warehouse that looked just like any other building in the Winter District: unimpressive, run-down, and dead silent. The only indications they had were a carved wooden sign and a few posts outside the front door, through which a ribbon could be run to form an extended line.

"This place looks like sh*t."

"Maybe it looks a little nicer when it's open," suggested Chester. "What do you think, Henry? Should we wait for someone to show up?"

"Not much else we can do," shrugged Harold.

envydei · April 2014

"You guys haven't applied to many restaurants have you?" Henry asked as he knocked on the door of the closed restaurant slightly, not loud enough to where anyone could have heard it on the other side, before simply pushing into the door to see if it would open. If it did, Henry intended to simply enter straightaway.

Khan · April 2014

The door relented, and the Beltanes walked through a small waiting room. Upon opening the next door, they were met with a wave of cold air, somewhat surprising given the Winter weather outside. The Family stepped into a large room that took up most of the warehouse. It was arranged oddly: while there were plenty of tables near the entrance as well as a long oak bar, the far end of the room housed rows of chilled meat, suspended from metal tracks by hooks. Most peculiar was the middle of the room where the two sides mingled, with tables surrounded by carcasses. Chester tried to imagine why someone would want to sit at such a table, but he found himself bereft of an explanation.

"Whadda y'want?" One of the tables near the entrance was occupied by four men. They all wore matching aprons, but their gruff and grizzled appearance made them seem more like factory workers than chefs or servers. A deck on the table indicated they had been playing cards, and a couple of them were smoking. The man who had spoken grimaced at the Beltanes.

envydei · April 2014

"Looking for work." Henry grunted, trying to match a somewhat grizzled demeanor on his own. "There a boss round here we can talk to?" While Henry felt powerful with his new Fy, he did not want to begin using them until he knew exactly what they were up against. He still did not know what Demons were capable of or if they would attack when provoked.

Khan · April 2014

The men exchanged slightly confused glances for a moment, not immediately sure how to respond. Finally one of them shrugged. "You could talk to Clarence."

"Clarence? Is he available at the moment?" As opposed to Henry, Chester tried to look as professional as possible.

"He's in the kitchen. Right this way, gentlemen." The man was clearly being sarcastic, eliciting chuckles from the others.

Despite the attitude, the employee got up from his chair and made his way across the room. The Beltanes followed, navigating their way through the carcasses, until reaching the far wall. A set of swinging doors opened up into a grungy kitchen area, where a man in an equally-grungy chef's jacket was working at a frenetic pace. It seemed that he was preparing all of the ingredients for the evening by himself, as there were heaps of chopped vegetables in bins around him. He was currently working through a bag of onions, slicing them into slivers with practiced speed.

"Chef, some guys here for work." The employee was already walking out the door, ready to get back to his card game.

"Work? I-" Clarence's bald head swiveled to face the Beltanes, his knife only slowing for a moment. The man was huge, easily 300 pounds, sweating profusely even in the cold building. At his first glance at the homeless men, his face flattened into an expression of bland distaste. "Ah." He finished the onion before walking around the counter to speak to the Beltanes, holding out his hand. "All four of you are looking for jobs?"

Immediately, Chester took Clarence's hand and shook it. A twinge of pain shot through his hand as the man's meaty fist squeezed his own. "Yes, chef. We've heard a lot of buzz about the restaurant, thought it might be growing."

The corners of Clarence's mouth curled up. His mouth was too wide, abnormal. "Did you see the ad? I don't need four people, two at most. How much butchering experience do any of you have?"

envydei · April 2014

"Worked catching and skinning meat back when I was a kid." Henry started. Not entirely a lie, when he was a child, Henry would hunt stray cats, kill them, and sell their meat to a shady grocery store that allegedly sold the meat to other restaurants in the area that would eventually be named Winter District. The money was decent for a kid, and there were plenty of stray cats in Samhain, but eventually the grocery store was found out and shut down. Nowadays a bodega stood in its place. "More of a procurer myself, make connections, get out on the streets. You know what I mean, sir?" he asked of the large man.

Khan · April 2014

Clarence shook his head. "I don't know, and I don't particularly care. The whole d*mn thing is about making connections, isn't it?"

Marshal raised an eyebrow. "The whole thing?"

"I don't have the patience for more connections. What is the largest animal you think you could skin?" Clarence pointed back at Henry with his knife, a lazy yet threatening gesture.

envydei · April 2014

Henry grew impatient with this man, he had a friend who was dying standing beside him and if this man did not know of Aether then their lead was a bust. He became a bit bolder, knowing that between himself and Chester, they could help Marshal and Harold escape trouble. "I've seen a new quarry around town lately." Henry began "About nine-feet tall, wears a Burqa. You familiar with it?"

Khan · April 2014

Clarence sighed, deflating as if there was a balloon in his chest. "If you don't have any experience slaughtering animals, then they'll get the drop on you. Most of them are more intuitive than they're given credit for." He tapped the side of his head with the flat of his knife before setting it down. "They know something's wrong just by your mood. Then they tense up, start squirming around. It's bad for the meat." His expression was one of recollection. "Do you know which animal squirms the most?"

envydei · May 2014

Henry wasn't sure what to make out of the conversation being handed to him by the odd man. He only assumed that this was in fact some strange coded speech and began to act accordingly. "If I had to guess, they're small, white little crab things that float in midair and have a fondness for clinging to people and crawling on them. You know what I'm talking about Clarence?"

Khan · May 2014

"Mm-hm-hmm." Clarence gave a low chuckle. "An unexpected answer. Incorrect, but interesting. No, the Fy are simple. They hop around and feed, not much else to them. Admittedly, the higher castes do quite a bit of squirming, particularly the Haisal. Your friend in the burqa might do the most squirming of all." He snorted derisively at the notion that the person he spoke of was a friend. "But when a demon wriggles, it's been planned for decades. It shifts the world. It's at a completely different magnitude than what I was considering. To put it into perspective, a demon moves with the roiling force of a grand serpent of ancient myth, when compared to the pathetic cringing of worms."

"Worms?" While Clarence seemed to be enjoying this tangent, Chester and the other Beltanes were bemused. Marshal quietly reached for his gun while Harold started nervously tapping his foot.

"The worms are humans. They squirm in the mud their entire lives. Squirming for the things they want, squirming because other humans want them to, squirming away from death as long as they can. And for all that squirming, all they do is shove the dirt back and forth."

Clarence turned away from the Beltanes, reaching into a cupboard. "I grow weary of this conversation. I can kill you now, and watch your last little squirms. Or you can leave, and squirm away for the rest of your lives." He turned back around, placing a small platter on the counter in front of him. "Or you can squirm here in front of me, and I will continue to tolerate your presence."

Marshal whipped out his pistol, leveling it at Clarence. "If you say the word 'squirm' one more time, I'm going to shoot you in the ****ing face!"

envydei · May 2014

"Marshal!" Henry yelled, "Put that thing up. We got what we needed. One more question though," Henry asked the large bald man, "Where can we find our friend in the Burqa?"

Khan · May 2014

Marshal's eyes shifted nervously between Henry and Clarence. The large man did not acknowledge the weapon being pointed at his face beyond a slight twitching at the corners of his mouth. Marshal slowly lowered his gun, exhaling loudly.

"You do not understand." Clarence reached into another cupboard, producing two champagne flutes and placing them on the platter. "I am not here to answer your moronic questions. I am not even here to compete. I am here to consume." He placed one final item on the platter; an ancient, glittering dagger, a crude blade of chipped obsidian, incongruous between the polished chrome and flawless glass. "So feed me, insect. Pay tribute, and you may live to know the answer you seek."

envydei · May 2014

Henry's eyes narrowed at the dagger. The combination of Clarence's obstinance, Marshal's hot-headedness, and his own distaste for insects and being likened to one all informed his decision. Henry spat a statement laced with vitriol at Clarence, "We've got enough going on without having to deal with one more psychotic demand. Choke on that answer a little bit, Demon. If we see you again, Let's hope whatever humans you've tricked into your service have some worthwhile Fy for us to take." Henry looked at his comrades, a look which said that he had figured out a new plan, one that didn't involve whatever this Demon had planned. He began walking out of the restaurant, intent on his next destination.

Khan · May 2014

"Mm." Clarence had no response to Henry's outburst. He picked up his kitchen knife and went back to work on his bag of onions.

Marshal decided to add his own opinion to the conversation as he stormed out. "F*** you, freak!" Harold was just as ready to leave, and Chester followed behind, albeit after one last glance at the dagger. The Beltanes made directly for the exit, ignoring the raucous men at the entrance. Once outside, Marshal reaffirmed his statement. "Man, f*** that demon s***!"

"That was messed up," Harold nodded. "What was with that dagger?"

"He wanted to be fed. Demons feed on negative emotions and pain, right? I'd draw you a picture, but I don't have a red pen on me." Chester turned to Henry. "I think that's enough information on that one, don't you? Problem is we don't really know where to go from here."

"There is one, possible, option that we have." Marshal was hesitant to bring the subject up. "We know where the demon Saturn resides. She mentioned it when she spoke to us. But to be honest, she freaks me out more than Fat B****** back there." He jerked a thumb at L'Abattoir

envydei · May 2014

"... How about this?" Henry suggested, "We go talk to Inya first. He's probably our best source of information here, and he can tell us which ones it's definitely a good idea to steer clear of." Henry was a little bit surprised that he had not thought of this already, as Inya was easily the most reliable source of information that they had available.

Khan · May 2014

"Oh, yeah. Really should've done that first thing. He probably could've warned us about that nut, too." Harold pulled out his phone.

"We got taken up in the moment. The bugs, the virus, it all caught us off guard."

"If those are the worst things we see, we'll be lucky. Keep your guard up next time."

"... Who was it that unwittingly contracted a virus again?"

"Why you little piece of-"

"Shut up, it's ringing."

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A Metallic Abstraction

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