P.P.F re:
Chapter 7: Road to Help Paved with Good Intentions 2/2
August 28th, 2018
“Disgusting!”
“Accept what you are!”
“How do you benefit society like this, freak?!”
“I'm sorry...do you mean how do I benefit you?”
Sometimes, the wound still hurt. Just above his belly button, a large line that had once been a gruesome gash laid under a blanket of gauze. Merely to hide it, of course. No sense drawing attention to it while he was on the job. As he awoke to the satisfaction of a smiling, happy customer, he realized, of course he was ranked No. 8 on the Yearning's popularity board. Because, well, someone built like the average, attractive citizen with a charming personality? Huh, sign me up! After falling back to sleep, he awoke to his clock, reading 6:00 A.M. He sighs, rolling out of bed and onto the cold, hard floor. Picking himself up, he began grabbing his clothes, from wherever weird place they'd been. “How the hell did my shirt get in the toilet?!” He groans, leaving it in the sink to dry, grabbing a black sweater. He jumped out the room door, into a hallway, large as could be, with about fifty rooms in total. He walked down the hall, slid down the stairs, and, after tripping on the last stair, landed face first in the small entrance hall. Unlike most centers, this one was much less extravagant, more like a motel from long ago. A woman in a skinny white shirt and black khakis stood at the front desk, skimming through some papers. “Morning, darling.” She scoffs at him with a little grin. “Good morning, Chris. Sleep well last night?” He grins, leaning onto her desk. “Not. A. Wink.” The woman shakes her head. “About as expected. I noticed your customer left just an hour ago. You treated her well, did you?” The man sighs. “I'm sorry, but I can't share any classified info. Sound familiar?” She chuckles. “You, sir, are an arsehat.” he laughs at her, pushing off her desk. “Well, I hope I'm your arsehat?” He points finger guns at her. “You wish. Now get out, I need to close up.” She gives him another friendly smile before he opens the front door.
He walks down the three steps, stepping on a couple of cold, dead leaves. He ran a hand through his black, silky hair as his hazel eyes looked to the slowly rising sun. Most people were still asleep, or just getting out from their jobs. He let out a loud yawn as he eyed a corner store, it's lights still on. “Ooh...giggity.” he opens the door, walking inside. In front of him were two rows of snacks, and at the far back was a cashier and two mini fridges with the word “Drinks” written on them. He walked forward, grabbing a Cocoa Raspberry rope and a cold coffee bottle, placing them on the counter. The boy eyes the items. “Ten dollars.” The man sighs, taking away the rope. “Sorry, sir, but now the price is fifteen.” Chris looked above the man, seeing a combo sales sign. “Are you...fine.” he brings the rope back, pulling out a ten dollar bill. “Sorry, sir, we only take cards.” The boy was trying, and failing, to hold back a devious smile. Chris stares at the boy for a moment, reaching into his pocket-”Bap!” and sends a fist flying into the cashier's chin. “Ahh! My chin! Hey, you-” as the boy started picking himself up, the man had already left, snack and coffee gone. The boy groans, falling back onto the ground.
As he rips a piece of his chocolate rope off, the tele-monitors switch from a slideshow of ads to a news broadcast. He grins as he watches his client appear on screen.
“Hello. This is Veronica Falcon with the Maine News Network, bringing you the latest and greatest. Um,” she motions to someone off camera like a maniac, “Um, we'll be starting off with a rather depressing first story. 45 year old Francis Danion was found in his home, hanging from his ceiling fan. Many here at the office suspect that this has something to do with his recent encounter with “The Reformationist,” as we've taken to calling this strange person. The mayor has stated in the past that he plans to put a stop to this nonsense, but as of now, it clearly can't come soon enough. All we have is a logo and a hope this crusade ends without much more damage.” He rips off another piece of his rope. “Yeah, okay.” He takes out a small notepad, writes down the gist of what she'd just said, and puts it back, chugging down his cold coffee. “Ahh.” He throws the can and plastic in the trash, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Arriving at the end of the sidewalk, he hears a couple voices somewhere nearby. “Ooh, hello?” He pulls out his phone, tapping the camera Icon. He closes his eyes, the voices becoming clearer. He starts moving forward, turning the corner, and carefully shuffling against the wall, following the source of these gruff voices. Soon, he arrives at an alleyway. He taps record, peeking behind the corner. Inside were two guys, dressed in red suits, talking to some teenage kid. “Come on, surely you have more than this.” The boy shakes his head. The man groans. “Thank you, Jerry. You can go.” Chris backs away, pretending to be absorbed in his phone as the boy passes him. He returns to his original position, recording the men as they start talking to each other. “Okay, has the request for that job in the Yearning gone through yet?” The other man nods his head. “Yeah, but they seem kinda hesitant. They don't seem as interested in our services as others.” “Okay…let's throw in a couple thousand. God knows they need the money.” the two nod. “They want to meet up today. I scheduled us for around three. Sound good?” The man stops recording, speed walking back the way he'd come. He waits a few moments, praying nobody had followed him. After a few moments, he peers behind him. The men were walking in the opposite direction. He sighs in relief. “Well, good ol Ronie should appreciate this.” He enters his messaging app, taping Veronica's name. As he's about to send this to her, however, he ponders for a few moments. He backs out, tapping another name.
“Hey, Hermes!”
“...what?”
“Your girl still doing that reformer crap?”
“Oh god, what? Someone say you have a baby carrot?”
“No...that's not what this is about. I think I found some investors.”
“?”
“Interested? Wink [https://www.royalroadcdn.com/public/smilies/wink.png]”
“A wee bit.”
He sends the video.
“Hmm...I'll consider it.”
“Alright. TTYL.”
“Hope not.”
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
He puts away his phone, looking up at the sky. The sun had risen.
…
It was easy to tell when they'd arrived in the downtown area. The annoying sidewalk ads were replaced with actual cement, the tele-monitors were instead the occasional billboard, and the area was strangely deserted. Well, okay, not all that strange. The population of this area consisted mostly of teenagers or adults working for centers. Hotels here had free housing for them, though that housing was extremely limited. “We almost there?” Anely asks. Ben nods. “Yeah, just past here.” As the two turn the last corner, the cozy building finally meets their eyes. Strangely, unlike the brick and steel buildings uptown, this one was actually built with wood, with only two stories and some fancy looking letters painted above the door. She was tempted to call it cozy looking, but holds back. Right next to the door was a man with light brown skin, wearing a black sweater and black khakis. The man was whistling, fiddling with a coin. “You think he's one of them?” Anely whispered. “Let’s just ask. Hey, mister-” she slaps him in the face as the man turns his attention away from the coin in his hand. “Oh, hello there.” He hums those last few syllables, throwing the coin in the air, opening his coin pouch and catching it. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” She groans, speeding her way over to him. “First, who are you?” She points at him. “My name is Chris. Anely, right?” Her stomach drops. “H-huh? How did you-?” He cuts her off, holding a finger in front of her lips. “Hush little child. I'll have you know Herman is very forthcoming with information.” It begins clicking in the girl's brain. “Oh, I see. Your Herman's-” “Yes, informant. Glad you're catching up. So, who's ready to kick some investor butt?” Her eyes go about as wide as dinner plates. “Wait, we? I mean, I see me and this guy, hi Ben, but, I'm quite sure no one invited you.” The man laughs, slapping her on the shoulder. “Get your disgusting, grimy hand-” he interrupts her again. “I'm pretty sure you're gonna get a lot farther with an o-ficial employee compared to without. What do ya say?” She grabs his arm, kneeing him in the balls. “Ahh!” He falls over, curling up into a ball. “My moneymaker…” she makes a show of wiping off her shoulder, calling Ben to follow her as she opens the door.
Once inside, she makes sure to close the door before taking in her environment. To the left, a staircase leading up to the second floor, a table with a bowl full of mints, a large window covered by curtains, and to the right, a fireplace with a lit fire, a large table with booth seats, a hallway with a sign above it, showing the bathroom icons, and right in front of them, a soft looking carpet with a desk, and a woman, her legs crossed on the table, staring down at a book. The two walk on, Anely tapping the lady's foot. “Hrm?” she looks up. “No teens in the afternoons.” Anely feels her toes tightening. “Ma’m, please.” She ignores Anely's plea. “Damnit.” She whispers, looking for a blunt object. “Jessie, don't be so rough with the kiddos.” the woman looks up again as a man puts his hands on these two teen's shoulders. “Chris, you know the rules as well as I do. It's out of my hands.” The man sighs, taking out a ten dollar bill. “How about now?” She bites her lip, her hands trembling. “Oh, fine.” She takes the money. “Check Room 17. I think there may be some patients In there.” The three thank the woman, who was guiltily taking the bill into her hands, before walking up the long staircase. Once they reach the second floor, the man sighs, a satisfied grin on his face. “Well, that sure was easy.” Anely grabs his jacket, holding a fist up to him. “Ah, ah, ah. I think this means you owe me, and nobody beats up the people they owe.” She looks at him like he's a nutjob. “Fine. I won't beat you up this time.” she pushes him back, and he lands on his backside as the two start walking down the hall. “Why are teens so friggin mean?” Chris grumbles, getting up. As they walked down the hall, they started to notice the strange decorations littering the walls. Pictures of pleasantries from long ago, like old libraries, cafes, and...she stops In front of a picture of a group of teens. “Hey, Chris, how old are you?” The man smiled. “Stupid question. Yeah, that's me.” He pointed to the boy giving the boy in the middle a noogie. “Huh. Band of Losers?” he chuckles. “Sure.” Three other girls, and three other boy's, and they all stood together in a cafe. “When was this?” The man doesn't answer. “You can take that with you. I don't think Jessie would mind.” She shrugs, throwing it in her bag along with Herman's stuff, and the three continue down the hall.
“...so much...so much food…” they stopped outside room 21. They could hear multiple voices talking to each other inside. The voices were low, and thus hard to make out. Nonetheless, Anely bashed through the door, meeting three surprised men, all wearing red suits. Two of them had white skin and short, blonde hair, while the other had black skin with no hair, all three wearing black sunglasses. They all stare at each other for a few, awkward moments, before the men ask who they are. “Not important. Who are you?” Ben retorts, receiving Anely's silent approval. “Um, well, we're representatives from the Youth Protection Program. You heard of it?” Anely laughs. “How ironic, considering we find you here of all places.” One of the men with blonde hair get up. “We've told you who we are, now you return the favor.” Chris goes first, giving them a sly tongue click. “Hey...you're the guy who was stalking us before. Right?” The dark skinned man nodded. “Great. First you broadcast our private meeting and then you bring in some teen brats for us to deal with. Thanks a lot.” Chris rolls his eyes. “So, please, enlighten us on what “morally righteous” people like yourselves are doing here, in the one place where youths are daily treated like clay.” the men seem confused on how to answer. “Well, what better way to make money?” The girl was caught off guard. “Excuse me?” The men seemed to nod at each other. “Yeah. Investing in a relief center is the easiest way to make bank. We do them favors, give them money, and they pay us and we use that to fund the Youth Center. That makes sense, right?” The girl felt disgusted, and her face showed it. “What do you mean?! Don't hide behind those kids like cowards!” They didn't take the bait, remaining calm. *Okay, different tactic.”
She snaps her fingers. Time around them seems to slow. The three men look at each other, confused. “H-hey, what the hell-ahhh!” The man talking jumps back. Where Anely had once been standing, there was instead a cloaked figure, with its hood down, revealing a bleached white skull. “W-what the hell are you?!” She raised her hand, summoning a dark aura, which formed a long, dark scythe. “Now, are you ready to admit your wrongs?” The figure's voice was deep, raspy, and turned the world cold. “What are you talking about?! All we've ever done is for those kids!” She tilts her head. “Do you really think that?” They all nod frantically. “Then I guess there's nothing I can do.” She jumps forward, landing on the table. “No, please!” She raises her blade. “H-hold on, crazy!” Chris grabbed her arm, looking the same as he had. “Let go of me!” He turns his attention away from her, focusing now of the men. “And you three, I can't believe how stupid your excuse is!” They looked clearly confused. “Your watching over a good amount of kids, yeah? Teaching them they can be whatever they want, and then turn your back on them by supporting exactly what you told them to fight! They didn't emote, didn't move, they just stared. She pulls out of Chris's grasp. “Don't you dare intervene in MY work!” She turns back to the men, seemingly evaluating Chris's words as she plunges her blade deep into one of the men's heads. The other two scream, trying to get up, but to no avail as she twists and jams her knife through her first victim's head and jams it into the other man. The last one remaining bolts past her, going for the door, meeting an upsetting end as Ben, now without a face, jams a kitchen knife into the man's stomach. He lets out a few utters of pain before falling to the floor, dead.
She snaps her fingers once more, the two teens returning to normal, and the three men lay unconscious on the couch. “High five, Ben.” The boy high fives her. “Now, Chris, please elaborate-” the man was nowhere to be seen. “Chris?” no response. “Geez, selfish much?” She chuckles in satisfaction, grabbing the bag she'd dropped. “Ready, Ben?* The boy nods. “Of course, master.”
…
She arrives at home, Ben already gone for work. She enters through the alleyway door, smiling and taking a deep breath. In the kitchen, Herman was chopping up some veggies, Brownie was destroying a toy, and Chris was sitting at the table, fiddling with a coin. “Ah, Anely. Chris told me how it went.” She sends him a glare. “Told me it was a job well done. Good on ya.” her glare is replaced with a curiosity. “Um, yeah. Took them down like a boss.” She congratulates herself, sitting at the table. Herman leaves to go grab some stuff from the fridge. “So, spill the beans, what do you want?” He looked at her with an almost mournful look. “Clearly, nothing you can provide.” She still motions him to answer. “I keep thinking if I tried harder, I could have convinced you to give them a chance to change.” “Wow, I thought age gave you wisdom. Bad people don't change, and they were bad people, hiding behind children like a shield.” the man holds his face in his hands. When Herman comes back, Herman fakes a smile, whispering under his breath, “You're wrong.”
The words are enough to change Anely's grin into a neutral look, as she watched Herman cook.
24 Days Until God's Summoning