Three years later…
Do you understand how much danger you are in? In this place monsters do not care if your bleed or not, as long as you do. This place isn’t the city of death and roses for nothing after all.
You do not know anything truly. You learn to ignore the blood on the drains, forgot whoever it might have belonged to; they don’t matter anymore. Go on with your existence and forget about it. Everyone dose. You ignore the screaming and crying; the sirens that blare late at night; they do not concern you. I wonder why people choose to live here. There are safer places, the rent is cheap I suppose.
Crime candidates, drug empires, and a whole heap of human trafficking. Not exactly safe. And you don’t even know about the inhumane. Just ignore those figures on the platforms, and in the crevasses of the alleyways. What monsters lurk deep in those places the light doesn’t quite reach. Those performers with voices that are just that little too interesting, or is it that man whose limbs are too long? In a city like this, who can you trust? The police? Fuck no, not after that last guy. Fucking prick, he was. Half the time I tried to talk to him he was high as a kite. Pity he’s dead.
In a place like this and a job like mine, I’ve had my fair share of brutes. People who believe they are above god. I’ve had my fair share of scraps and run in with unsavoury people, so much so that drunken men are the least of my worries. Men you can kick; and punch; monsters; you just have to pray your knife is sharp enough.
I suppose I should tell you how I am. My name is Pandora Delmaria and I’m the leader of a bounty hunter gang named Henbane. We make sure monsters don’t make their ways underbeds and into closets.
I’ve found myself beaten, held at gunpoint and in hospital for broken limbs more times than I can count. None of that really scares me anymore. The number of scars I have I can’t count them on one hand, and I know my job is dangerous. I’m no fool the life of a bounty hunter is always filled with trouble.
That’s why I was in the club in the first place. A job. The man Infront of me was one Julian Kempt head on the Faceless Disciples gang. He was a greasy man, with a piggish nose and hair not to different from a rat. He was bulbous and no handsome unlike one of his foot men. He smiled at me, and I smiled back. He had deep tanned skin, grey eyes, and short messy black hair. I turned my attention back to Julian kempt.
The music was so loud and dreadful; the lights were bright was flashy. I couldn’t even hear him properly.
“So, what’s a pretty girl like you doing out here all alone,” he said, his breath reeked of alcohol and smoke. He put his hand on my knee, and I fought the urge to break his nose. I smiled and laughed. I blame the department for the outfit. It was a tight sparkly dress and dagger heels, so the only real daggers I had on me were my rings, and they wouldn’t do much. He had goons everywhere.
Julian Kempt was a notorious drug dealer. Sometimes they contained cyanide and gave those packets to people he hated. I had a packet of said drugs. He ordered another round of drinks, already drunk out of mind. But hey it’s Julian Kempt. If you want to paint a target on your back, go ahead. The bartender flashed me a nervous glance, and I nodded. Did he know what I was about to do? Doubted it. When the drinks were placed in form of us. Atlas made her move.
She was stunning. A well-tailored black suit that complimented her nicely. She had a white blouse buttoned low so you could see her cleavage and heeled boots. Her white hair is done in a Nordic style and bold lipstick, and dark eyeshadow. By the gods, this woman was hot. I may have been biased, but hey I don’t care.
The rat was distracted; the bartender turned his back, and I spiked the drink and stirred in the deadly powder. Atlas moved on, and Julian turned his attention back to me, taking a sip of his final drink. Foam built up at his mouth, and he gagged. He fell to the ground, and the glass fell to the floor, shattering. I screamed and back away, causing a commotion. I stepped back into the crowd as his goons started forming around him. I backed right into the handsome man I’d seen before.
“Hi,” I said promptly punching him square in the nose breaking it before grabbing Atlas by her hands and running out of the club and down the block until I we turned a corner and slowed down; running in heels was a nightmare.
“Nice scream,” she said, putting her blazer over my shoulders.
“Thanks. I thought it added a nice touch.”
“How’d you punch by the way?”
“Don’t know, I know he was part of the gang; he wore the tag but other than that no clue.”
Atlas laughed and snow began to fall. “Say what should we do for dinner?” she asked.
“Fried rice or maybe sushi.”
“Sushi sounds nice,” She asked sadly.
I sighed lacing my fingers through hers. “Do you really have to go?”
“Sadly, the yule festival is important; I’m forced to attend; It’s only three days and I don’t leave for another week. I’ll be back for your birthday love.”
“Ok,” I sighed resting my head on her shoulder as we walked.
In the late winter night, the snow had fallen, and the fog rolled lazily in from the harbour. I can’t help but think that the falling snow looks remarkably like ash from a volcano. I can hear drunken men hobble home on the streets of cobblestone. I liked to imagine that I was in Victorian London, but not the neon lights killed the illusion and reminded me just where I was. The red-light district of the city is filled with nightlife.
December 15th 2109… only ten days till Christmas.
The police station was warm but unwelcoming. The smell of stale coffee and chemicals was overwhelming. I saw a handful of officers turn their heads, to look at us and turn away just as fast. One detective came over to us. I couldn’t decide if they were masculine or feminine. They wore a dusty leather jacket and black jeans. They had that Naïve sense of hope to them.
“A-anglerfish,” their voice filled with fear. I smiled. Fear was good, it kept you alive.
I didn’t particularly like the name ‘anglerfish.’ I wasn’t even an Anglicana. I was Shakli, not even similar. But they didn’t know that; to them I was just as human. I was the light before death. An anglerfish.
“Sargent O’Conner has called for you,” they continued.
“Excellent thank you…”
“Andi, ma’am.”
“Andi… I like that,” I said, patting them on the shoulder.
Inside his office, Sergeant O’Conner sat, waiting for us. He had salt and pepper hair and a stern square jaw, with a scar on his right brow. He gestured for us to sit down. He had a grave look on his face.
“Jillian Kempt.”
“Dead.”
Sergeant O’Conner nodded. I noticed he looked tired. He was a young man, maybe mid-30s. He had lines of worry and deep bags under his eyes. The man was stressed. I didn’t blame him after the last guy.
“Good, now,” He paused looking around the room. “Monsters?” his voice was beardly audible.
“The numbers have been down these past couple of days. Koa and Virgil are on patrol.”
“Good… I want this to go well. I’ve got eyes watching me, you know.”
“Is it because the last guy was a druggie, or the creature he killed?” Atlas mused, and O’Conner glared at her.
She was right. The last Sergeant was a druggie. He had one of those lethal bags of cyanide, thinking it was cocaine. I never really like the guy, but still. And that creature, it was a Drow. Killed when we have only an officer. I saw the fear in echo’s eyes every time we came to see him. Everyone thought it was just a regular person or a gang member. But those who knew, knew.
“Could you have not buttoned up your shirt, miss Oceania?”
“Nope.”
He sighed and turned to me. The bags under his eyes were deep, and his shoulders were tense. Sergeant O’Conner had a lot on his shoulders. He had to earn the trust of his people and those who worked under him.
“Anglerfish, you are the head of Henbane. You are now the importance of the people having faith on the police… I cannot let the people down,” He said rubbing his temples. I glared at him.
“Yes, I understand; We are making sure that the people are protected. That’s why I’m wearing this stupid dress and god forsaken heels just to kill some scumbag!” I yelled slamming my hands on his desk. O’Conner didn’t break my gaze. I sat back into my seat and kept staring. “You need to have faith in us. Come on Atlas Lets get changed.”
“Gods of Azgard,” Atlas said, as we changed. “That scar is still as beautiful as ever my love…” I knew which one she was talking about; I pulled my shirt down quickly, but she had already placed her hand over it. I shivered. She knew what she was doing, and I hated her for it. She placed a light kiss right in the centre, and my shoulders tensed. She always did this.
“Atlas…”
“Yes,” She purred.
“Not now.”
She rested her hands on my shoulders and placed her head on mine. “Ok love,” She said, before getting changed herself. A pity she didn’t keep wearing the suit, but her shirt and pants weren’t bad either. She was always going to be beautiful. Her fair snow like skin; white hair spilling over her shoulders. Her emerald, green eyes, and that ‘x’ shaped scar on her left check. Her septum pricing and dangling spear head earing, vetr.
She wore a buttoned shirt covered in sunflowers and loose black slacks, along with black combat boots. I grabbed a random shirt from my closet that day. It was black and had a skull that was cracked show showing brain and blood. Grey commo pants, boots and tied my hair in a low ponytail, and reapplied the red eyeliner under my eyes and grabbed my pack. “You ready?” I asked Atlas.
She nodded and walked out to the cold winter streets. I slipped my coat on and we made our way to the red-light district; before we headed home.
[Part 2 below]
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