Enter: Night, Chapter 1

From: Strong-arm Security Corporation

To: #M1487

Subject: Welcome, probie.

     Thank you for choosing to work for Strong-arm Security Corporation. SSC has a reputation for getting the job done, no matter what. As you know, we pride ourselves in hiring only the best for our high-profile, well compensated assignments.  Therefore, in order to qualify for these jobs, you must complete five missions for us. Due to your background and our resulting high expectations for you, you will start with the following assignment:

     Make your way to Building C, 32F on Mendelson Lane on the East Side. This is the second home of a high ranking member of the city’s elite. Once there, you will escort the lone resident for a nighttime stroll around the city, ensuring her safety.

     That is all. And remember, we have high hopes for your success.

-SSCX

     A dark-haired, lean-built young man walked the nighttime streets, skyscrapers piercing through the low-hanging haze that perpetually enshrouded the city’s skyline. He took in everything on this side of town, all of it being relatively unknown to him. He lived on the industrial side, so the hazy strips lit up by various elaborate neon signs flashing their advertisements for sex, spirits, and many other vices were rather new to him. The streets were crowded with rowdy people dancing and shouting as the sounds of voices blended with obnoxious music. All this created an atmosphere of constant motion, a complex problem for anyone who wants to remain situationally aware. But he had experience. As he walked on, he slightly adjusted his casual suit’s jacket, eyes scanning the scene, his heart beating quickly in his chest.

     Eventually he found the street he was looking for and turned down it. There was a row of fancy apartment buildings, and he entered the one indicated by the email. He was greeted by four burly men wearing various large sidearms, and uniforms with SSC badges on the left breast. One of them asked his business there.

     “I’m doing a job for Strong-arm.”

     The security guard smiled and asked, “32F?”

     “That’s right.”

     “The new probie!” The second guard said.

     “I wonder how far he’ll make it,” stated the fourth.

     The first guard nodded at him and smiled, “Make sure to take good care of her, okay? Be on your way now, my friend,” and he indicated the elevator.

     The young man replied, “I’ll do my best,” and the guards laughed. He walked to the elevator and pressed the button. His heart started beating more regularly now, the relaxed nature of the exchange putting him somewhat at ease. The doors slid open, and he walked on. He had never met any of the city’s elite before. He wondered if she was attractive.

     When the doors slid open, he walked to the door marked F. He knocked twice. After a brief moment, the door opened, and he was greeted by the stench of death, as well as a robotic voice. “Welcome,” it said.

     He stood there at the door, looking at the inside of the apartment in confusion. He could see that there was a kitchen on one side, and a room for entertaining guests on the other. However, all around, kept out of the way of the needs of human functioning, tucked in corners and on walls was a playground, the kind built for cats. “Please, do come in,” the voice insisted.

     After a brief moment of consideration, the man entered the apartment, and the door closed behind him. He looked back, startled, then walked further in. As he turned the corner to the right, he saw the rest of the apartment that was hidden before, and he realized that he was the sole human in the unit.

     At the end of an odd hall that went off of the main room, he saw what reminded him of a tiny alter before a small pedestal covered in what looked like animal hairs. On the alter lay the bloodless remains of several of the cities rats, fairly young by the size of them, innards spilling out.

     “Mr. Pierce,” the disembodied voice said, if you will turn your attention to the corner behind you, you will see who you must guard tonight.” He turned around, and in the middle of a bunch of stuffed animals, he saw what he missed on his first look around the room, a black cat lying lazily on its side.

     “Are you serious?” the man asked the voice, disappointment washing over his countenance.

     “Quite. This cat belongs to Adrian Belle, one of the most important women in the city, and its safety is therefore a high priority assignment. SSC usually gives this job to those who have already passed probation. However, there are a few for whom the Company sees fit to make an exception. You are one of them. May I ask what experience you have had that makes you so qualified?”

     After a brief pause, he replied “I was a soldier.”

     “Oh, well, thank you for your service. Go ahead and escort Miss Fluffles around town.”

     “Where do I take it?”

     “Just follow behind her. She is a smart beast. She knows her way around the city better then most beings.”

     “I see,” and turning to go, he said, “Well, um, come on cat, let’s get going.”

     At that, he heard a loud rumbling sound. He saw Miss Fluffles turn to look at him. The feline’s eyes were filled with fire, glaring at him.

     “Treat her with a deal of respect, Mr. Pierce, or you will not have a good evening.”

     Pierce nodded cautiously and stepped aside to make way for the black cat. The door opened up, and they got to the elevator. They stood side by side in silence as they descended. There was something about this cat he didn’t like, beyond the fact that it was some wealthy politician’s spoiled child. He could feel the glare of the cat as it looked up at him, daring him to make eye contact. His discomfort grew, moment by moment. The door finally opened, and the cat walked out, now looking ahead. He let out a sigh of relief.

     Miss Fluffles led the way past the snickering guards, out the hotel door, and into the street. She ambled along under streetlight after streetlight, down the road lined with high-end high-rise apartments and onto a street with large Gothic mansions that looked like relics of the ancient past when compared to the apartments. He looked at them as he followed the cat. “Well, this is a weird situation, isn’t it cat?” he asked, hands in his pockets. The cat glared at him again, and the odd way it did so sent a shiver down his spine. He averted his gaze. The wind whistled eerily over the chimneys of the evil-looking houses. The gnarled branches on the barren trees on the front lawns looked like bony fingers stretching in preparation for grabbing any passersby and pulling them into the ground to drown in the soil. The black cat led on.

     He was happy when he finally started to see other people as they made their way along the edges of the same sin-ridden part of town he walked through to get to Miss Fluffles' place. It was less crowded on the outskirts, which was good. He could follow the cat and scan the people with some level of ease. He saw some men hanging around outside of a bar, slurring their curses leveled at their tyrannical bosses. He saw women, young and old dressed in skimpy but gaudy clothes, making come-ons at the passersby. He saw a beggar with a sign asking for handouts, playing on some notion that the good deed of giving to him would offset whatever dirty deeds the regulars of the district were about to commit. Everyone of these people gave a wide berth to the black cat and him.

     Maybe it was fear of bad luck. He hoped that this job was not some kind of bad luck. He needed the money. Desperately. He would do whatever it takes. But he wondered why he needed to guard this cat? Who in their right minds would try to do anything to the beast? It had such a bad energy about it that it actively repelled anyone near it. And if someone tried to do something to it, he had a feeling it could take care of itself.

     As they continued on, they crossed over into Chinatown. He did not like it there. It reminded him of when he was a soldier. Those were not good times. He continued to follow the black cat, but the more he looked around at the busy foreign faces, the more he looked at their hieroglyphs flashing in neon, the more he heard their gibberish language as they bought and sold their devilish wares, the more unsettled he became. He had an odd feeling that he was being watched. His heart beat an irregular rhythm as he looked from person to person, sweat dripping down his head.

     Now is not then, he repeated over and over again in his head. He ducked into an empty narrow alley and leaned back against the side of one of the old brick buildings, closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing. Slowly, his heart started beating regularly again, and he opened his eyes and wiped the sweat off his brow. He quickly stepped out of the alley, and looked around through the neon-bright smoggy haze, the cat nowhere in sight.

     No. No, I can’t fail this job, I need that money!

     He began frantically asking if anyone had seen the cat, but they either had seen nothing, couldn’t understand him, or didn’t care enough to respond to the outsider. He began running in the direction that he had been going before he lost her, when he suddenly heard a shout around a corner further down the street. It sounded like one of the local residents was in pain. He recognized some of the Chinaman's swears.

     He turned the corner and saw a short man with a bloody apron standing to the side of his butcher stall, cleaver at his feet, nursing long bloody claw marks on his left arm. Pierce asked the man where the cat went. The man pointed down a side street. Pierce ran around the corner and saw a hooded man with a brown sac in his hand running through the crowd, knocking people out of his way as he went. Without giving it a second thought, he began chasing the man, shouting at him to slow down. The man gave a brief look back and Pierce saw the thick-bearded man’s face, a bloody scratch over his right eye.

     Pierce chased the man from street to street. Eventually, the stifling atmosphere of Chinatown was left behind, and a calmer attitude was seen in all of the pedestrians that he passed. The bearded man was closer now. He was getting tired. But so am I, Pierce thought. The steeple of a Gothic cathedral loomed large a few blocks away. Who is this man? Why is he stealing a stupid cat?

     He was just about within reach now. Pierce gave one last burst of energy and grabbed the old man around the waist with one hand, pulling him to the ground, while he grabbed the brown bag with the other hand. They grappled on the ground, each attempting to grab the bag. The old man managed to land one solid punch on Pierce’s face, and in that brief moment the old man pulled the bag right out of Pierce’s hand and struggled to his feet, about to run.

     Pierce stood and pulled his handgun from his shoulder holster and pointed it at the man. “This is as far as you go with that sac,” he panted. His suit was torn on the knee and his lip was bleeding. “Give it to me,” he beckoned with his free hand.

     “I have to take the cat to the priest.”

     “Give me the cat.”

     “You don’t understand what you’re doing! It’s not what you think it is!”

     “Give me the cat!”

     The old man stood there. He looked at Pierce. He looked and saw that he was serious. And he saw fear. He put the bag on the ground and started to walk away.

     “Hold it.” Pierce opened the bag and looked inside. Miss Fluffles lay unconscious in the bottom. “Alright, walk away.”

     The old man walked away, looking back over his shoulder every now and then as he went.

     Pierce began retracing his steps with the unconscious cat in the sac, now slung over his shoulder. When he got to the Gothic neighborhood, the cat had woken up and was meowing angrily. He let it out of the bag, and it looked at his bleeding face. It smiled a wry smile and led the rest of the way to its apartment. Pierce was glad that this job was almost over.

     He followed the cat into the apartment building. The guards looked at the exhausted probie with surprise as he walked by.

     “What happened?”

     “Was a little walk more than you could handle, newbie?”

     “Are you sure you’re cut out for this job?”

     Pierce, exhausted from the rough night, turned around in the elevator and said, “No. But I have to do it.” The doors slid closed.

     Pierce stood in front of the bank screen and tapped on his balance. He saw the payment for his completed job, a good amount of money, sent by Strong-arm Security Corporation. You couldn’t get this kind of money working for the police. He never made anywhere close in the army. He tapped the screen, opening up the bills tab. The number was huge. He transferred some to the food service, some to the housing service, and put the rest into the hospital bill. He sighed, then logged out of his account and walked home. He made it to his grimy apartment by sunrise and tried to sleep for the rest of the day.

more stories @ seeingredserials.weebly.com