PHQ-Nickname:
SonOfMan
Halfquake:
Screaming Deth
Level:
40
Total kills:
3,688,748
Birthday:
September 01st 1974
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| Filth & Fetish Inside and Out: 2 |
I exhaled rancid breath that, had I not been used to the menu at Jaymeeow Li-Wa's, would have made me wince. I thanked the black stars in heaven that Chawlee was dead. At least the menu at Jaymeeow Li-Wa's has variety.
"It's a good price," I stated. I was not going to go any lower than the price I had given. "Victims aren't as easy to come by as they once where."
I met his gaze across the heavy desk that squatted between us. I had been told what to say so that I might sell the contracts and they knew the prices were not unreasonable. I had no reason to feel nervous about the negotiations. What was making me nervous were two details of the situation that I had no control over. The first was being here in the first place. Trap Crafters cold not be trusted. I wanted out of here alive, I was not going to die here. Although prized at my own Institute for the progress I had made, fighting creatures, scavenging for resources, killing victims when the store rooms filled up and the price on the black market was low, I knew I could be replaced. And what could be done if I was to disappear? War between the Institutes was a laughable proposition. No profit there.
I couldn't see very well from where I was seated but in the corner of the room another Chosen was sitting with her back towards me and seemingly engineering a trap of some description. I say seemingly because it was not directly in my line of sight. When I had entered I had been given the opportunity, briefly, to take in my surroundings but now that the negotiations had begun I was required to focus my attention toward the Institute's founder and director. There was a quantity of gears and circuits on the table and beside the table, on the floor, and the reason I was slightly on edge, lay a rotting cardboard box half filled with explosives. I considered that it was a scene deliberately created to put me ill at ease. I tried my best to ignore it but I must have shown some sign that I was at least a little interested when he said from across the desk, "Big bomb victims tournament here tomorrow. A lot of dragons and victims are going to die. We will be setting off an atomic device to close the festivities. You should be able to see the mushroom for miles around."
He seemed to be pleased by the thought. I tried to smile pleasantly, but as usual for us Chosen, what spread across my face was less of a smile and more of a grimace. He took it to mean something else and changed the subject back to the negotiation.
"So we are agreed," he began affably, "we buy for 2186 SD at 120 and you deliver daily, then we'll get some traps boxed up and sent over to you for a price that is right." He smiled again and took two Cuban cigars from an ebony inlayed wooden box on the desk. It depicted symbols of chaos around the edges and had a centerpiece showing a violent sexual act. While the box opened I had a good look at the image, although it was upside-down to me, I was at once excited by it's vulgarity. I was about to speak when a thought occurred to me, something crept to the center from a dark recess: the price he had quoted was inaccurate, the agreed price was much higher.
"I have been led to believe," I tactfully began, "that the price was to be 3186 SD." I paused for the shortest of breaths not knowing if a had just dug myself a six foot deep hole to lie in. I added as quickly as I could muster the words, "I can check with HQ, should your eminence require it. I am not at liberty to decide myself what the price ought to be."
I felt stupid for saying it, why was I here to negotiate if I had no authority to set the price? Truth be told, I was sent here with specific information to be conveyed, to call this a negotiation was to rewrite the definition of the word. My heart paced a little faster as I waited for his response and for some reason quite unknown to me, my sub-conscience flashed me the image of the cigar box lid but with me and the secretary engaged in the act of sadistic lust depicted thereupon. I could not help myself and so a slight smile played the corners of my mouth and sent a twinkle to my eye. Again, I was to be misinterpreted, perhaps this time it was taken to be bravery, or perhaps tactfulness, or perhaps he just wanted to see if I would notice his mistake, but he said, "Of course, you are correct. Numbers, numbers, eh? One does have to keep track. So many dead today, too many alive tomorrow, fixcosts here, fixcosts there." He gave me a wry smile that made me positively fear him and I felt too the eyes of the other Chosen upon me. I could not decide where I should direct my own eyes so I looked down at my hands resting upon my knees. To my great relief I felt no blows to the back of my skull. I waited in silence as he prepared the paperwork, pricked his finger and dripped blood onto the dotted line. I checked the most important parts of the contract and dripped my own blood onto the counter-signatorie's dotted line. The process was repeated so that we both had a copy of the contract.
"Our Institute will be extremely pleased," I said. "I thank you sincerely on behalf of my master." He looked at me, saying nothing. I added the customary, "May the dead rise up that we might cut them down again, for your pleasure," and bowed. Contract in hand I began to back toward the door. Still he said nothing.
As I reached the door, walking backwards like a fool, I could once again take in the whole room. The Chosen who had been at the desk in the corner was gone. I wondered if I would ever see her again. I had something I wanted to discuss, something I could only discuss with another Chosen.
When the door closed behind me I felt both relieved and at the same time tense. The worst of the day was over, I hoped, but I still had to make it out of here alive. I lit another Marley Mild and realized I was alone in the long curving corridor. Well, I thought to myself, there is only one direction to go in from here, and I began to walk. |
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