Mixed Stories

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Τρίτη, 26 Ιουλίου 2016

Of punches, the Devil and the Church pt1 (edited)



It was the tenth round and things looked grim.

Three consecutive right hooks convinced Jon Perilon that he was having the shitiest day of at least this month and it was still 09:36 pm

It had started almost normally, as all the shity days do. It’s a trick they use you know, for them to catch you by surprise.

He got up from bed at 06:35 am, went for his usual roadwork, and by 07:50 am he was back, sweating like a horse.

He went for a bath only to discover that there wasn’t any hot water, feeling mighty pissed after a cold shower he decided that he was to have a word with the owner.

He took of at 08:20 a.m. making his way to work, with only a minutes pause to take his breakfast on the way, 2 cups of hot coffee and hot dog for him to eat at his office.

By 08:45 am he sat comftorbly at his chair only to have it collapse under him. A shity day had began. Luckily he had left the stuff that he was holding on his desk before he sat on that chair, so they didn’t got spilled on his papers when he fell. They got spilled some seconds  later when his secretary heard the crash and came to help, it was remarkable really, she to manage to spill the coffee in such a manner as to cause that maximum possible damage damage. Papers, notes and Johns pants were in dire need for a cleanup.

He gave her the look that he reserved for those that he had no calms to kill, in the ring or out, it was quite a look, he had spend hours in front of a mirror perfecting it. The effect was diminished by the fact that he was laying among the remains of his chair with coffee all over his pants, looking like he had pissed himself like a three year old. But still it was a good look.

-         Oh my god! I am so sorry! Oh my god… here… wait… I ‘ll get a mop…
-         Miss Reidcliff.
-         No, no, not a mop… a towel…
-         Miss Reidcliff!
-         No first paper then a towel. She was well into the panic mode.
-         Miss REIDCLIFF! WILL you listen to me for a second please? His voice got stronger and then smoother to finally end at normal tone , it was an old habit of his to do that when his was ignored, that way he got his listeners attention.
-         Yes, of course, forgive me, here let me help you up.

She let her help him.

-         Leave the mops and towels for the cleaning service, don’t I have a suit at the cleaning house at the corner? Yeah, you go and get me my suit, on your way out call the cleaning service and one of the bozos sitting at the coffee machine, do we have copies of my documents?
-         Yes of course as usual.
-         Good you bring those to me along with my suit,  once I have change you take this at the laundry shop, the half of the cost of course will come from you salary.
-         Yes, sir of course.
-         Now what are you waiting for, go, we got work to do.

With a nob she left in a hurry.
He looked at his desk to see if there was anything salvageable from the papers, there wasn’t.

With a curse he went to the bathroom to wash himself. He ignored any strange looks on his way there determined not to leave anything else ruin his day.

He got back to find a young man looking with interest at the signs of his morning disaster.

-         What’s up lab?
-         Goodmornig sir, I was told that you called me.
-         That’s right, first take the remains of the chair to the thrash, then take any papers on my desk and try to make a sense of what was there, there must be some documents on the Falanar case that I run next week, and some bills, I want your report in an hour.
-         Yes, sir of course.
-         Good boy, you have a desk somewhere am I right?
-         Well, yes. He said with a confused expression on his face.
-         Good bring me your chair, it will have to do until I got a new one, you don’t have any problem with that do you?
-         Well sir, no, I mean, no sir, no problem with that.
-         Good now go.

As he was leaving the cleaning lady came in, she was a woman well in her sixties, bent over so much that you thought she was searching something on the floor.

-         Good morning mister Perilon. How is your day?
-         Are you mocking me Linda? It is as bad as it can get.
-         Ha! be careful what you say, nothing bad has happened here as I see only some spilled coffee, and do I smell a hot-dog? I told you these things are bad for your health.
-         No, don’t start with that, the day is as bad as they go, I tell you, what could possible go more wrong? I get mugged in an alley? I get kidnapped by aliens? I get possessed by a demon? The apocalypse?
-         Now watch your words young man, don’t say stupid things. Isn’t there your fight tonight? She said in a lower voice, so as to not be overheard.
-         Yea, I fight a third rate tonight, no worries on that at least.

Of the office only Linda new that he was a semi-pro boxer going by the title of Johanson “The Face” Rolipen, he had saw him at one of his fights and recognized him, despite her years she was an old fun of the art of  breaking someone’s fists with your face, the next day she confronted him at the office, but not to blackmail him, as he had won the fight  she wanted to congratulate him. From time to time they would find a corner and sit and talk about box and how shitty work was.

-         Never underestimate them kids, you never know.
-         Yeah, well excuse me but I do. He was about to say more but got interrupted as the clerk that he had sent of with the papers came back with a chair.
-         Excuse me mister Perilon, I brought the chair and I couldn’t but notice at one of the papers that you had noted an appointment for 10:00 am, with some couple named Taylors?
-         Oh hell, I had forgotten about that. He lean over and gave a shout at the hall. Where the hell is miss Reidcliff?.
-         I am here! I am coming! A muffled answer came from the elevator, where some one was screaming over his lungs to be heard. It was 09:25 a.m.
-         I am sorry Mr Perilon but I couldn’t get the meeting place from the paper.
-         No, its ok I got it, it’s just some blocks from here.

At exactly 10:07 a.m. he was at the meeting place, outside an apartment block whose owners (his clients) wanted him to come along with them and scare some bad renters out of the place. As late as it was he still came earlier from his clients, so he went to a coffee stall to try catching a sip of coffee.

He ordered and took the coffee and as he had his wallet out to pay the man someone grabbed and took it from his hands, he or she also started running, as John turned, he only got a glimpse of a jacket that was turning at a corner, forgetting his coffee he went after the thief.
                                                 
John Perilon was, as mentioned, a semi-pro boxer, quite fit for his age (38), managing to hit the gym for at least an hour each day and had a morning run of sixty to eighty minutes per day. He also strongly disliked thieves. He had been mugged four times in his life. After the first thief robed him he decide to take on box, the other three thief’s ended up at the hospital, two of them had knifes, the other a gun.

The future of our daring thief was looking, as you can see grim. He was running fast and some people might have just let him go since he had a head start but John Perilon wasn’t among those people. He went after him and not before long was catching up.

The general direction of the thief was to the shady side of the city. He made some daring turns trying to lose the pursuer but John held fast on his tracks. Again he made a sudden turn in to an alley and to his surprise saw a door been ajar, making the wisests choice of his day he screamed “here is your godam wallet” and throw it through the door he then stated to run again leaving John behind caught in a dilemma.

On one hand he wanted to confront the thief, on the other people were waiting for him and he wanted his wallet, finally he choose the later and entered the alley in search of his wallet. He went through the door for his wallet hoping that he wasn’t going to be noticed and get confused for a thief.

Lets pause time for a moment.
Ok? Good.
Now lets go backward in time (what you don’t know how? Its simple, you start same way that you freeze time but now you add the process of unmaking mater oh! and add apples, don’t know why, they just help), ten years should be just fine. Ten years ago the multy millionaire architecture Frans Scezist build this building and the abjasten ones, as part of his project to reform the city and make millions on the way, he succeeded and moved for permanent residency at Hawaii thus making himself completely unrelated to our story except one part, to whom he sold that building and why.

The “why” its simple, it was preordered, at a time of financial crisis a club approached him and asked for a building with a vast underground room, with en entrance not on the road and it would be preferable if that room wasn’t seen at any papers. Access to water and electricity wasn’t mandatory but it was preferable. They paid well and in cash so without a lot of questions he agreed. It was room 20 meters high with a base of 80m X 70m. Huge poles were supporting the above floors.

The “who he sold it to” is kind more complicate. The man he came in contact with was another millionaire, Thomas Jackalson. He was a known as an eccentric, sophisticated person that was melding with metaphysics and paranormal phenomenon’s. That made him an interesting person to have at a party as he entertain the people with funny questions and observation on what was out there, what was it like, and the hidden powers of the human mind. That persona though was false, completely fabricated, in other words a lie. You see mr Jackalson wasn’t wondering on “what is there” or “what is like” he knew what was there and could make a preaty good guess on what was it like. He was satanist. And not a half assed one at that. He went the full way, magic, ceremonies, sacrifices (which may or may not include living persons, depending on whom of his colleagues you ask) and of course selling his soul to the devil. Not an easy think to do. For that you need a lot of space quiet and a lot of hard work as the ceremony isn’t an easy one to perform and it takes time, from twelve to twenty hours depending the person and the weather, you need to summon a demon in to person (wiling or otherwise) and if the person lives long enough, strike a deal with him.  

Another think was that mr Jackalson wasn’t working alone. He had a group of 30 people that came regularly to him for ceremonies and he had to have a place to hold them, he saw a chance with Frans Scezist and as any good business man would do, grab it.

The place was working as their headquarters and temple for two years until the sudden illness of mr Jackalson and his death 3 painful years later. Really it wasn’t a pretty sight, it was as if the man was rotting alive, when he finally died little more than his skeleton and some skin was left. In the meantime having their leader gone the group lost its unity and chaos erupted, the ceremonies at regular base stopped as few still wanted to continue.

Ten years later the group is but a shadow of its self. Only eight members left, of which three are fifteen year old kids (Ema, Althaia and Salem, the last one is a boy in case you cant tell) that thought it would be cool to be in the group, two are old members that just cant break the habit (Jason N. Builbter, Robert F. Gideon) and do it for old times sake and the free cookies, two other idiots  that go as Conrad (its german and means wise adviser) and Paxton (which is also German and means traveler from a distant land) that like to think of them self as powerful wizards and lastly their leader who is nameless. He actually goes as Patric Felony but he doesn’t want to be called that, it reminds him his third wife and all the failures of his life. He is the only one that has witnessed some higher workings and paid some attention, and the only one that tries to give to the club its old glory. To do that he decides to summon a demon and as the clubs leaders did to the past make a pact.

Summoning a demon as I mentioned isn’t an easy think. It takes strainius work and a lot of preparation in the addition of kidnapping some one to be used as a host, then you create a circle were you place that individual and draw the scripts around and in it. Then a demon comes takes the available host and comes if he desires to do so it’s not compulsory for him to do so or.

His plan worked almost to perfection, he gathered the ingredients, the incarnations, and convised the others to cooperate. Since he couldn’t gat a decent victim thought he chouse to go with an alternative, talking animals. He thought if going with a gorilla, but it was to expensive, hell even a monkey was beyond his economical reach, after they all pitched in some money they managed to buy a raven, he would prefer a parrot but he was assured by Althaia that a raven was more fiting for the occasion and far smarter animal on the whole.
After fifteen hours of incarnations a demon aperead and possessed the body. Everything was perfect, except meaybe that small detail in the scribing of the circle that the kids got wrong, thuds allowing the demon to walk out, or as was more the case fly out of the circle and head for the exit, exactly 2 minutes before Jon enter the door that just happened to be the only exist of the place.

Let’s unfreeze time now shall we?

As John is looking for his wallet he suddenly hears noise coming from some stairs that lead below. He watches a shadow of some demonic bird that closes in and is just seconds from bolting, cold sweat running to his face, as a raven appears and flies straight at him. to late he thinks to move and the parrot crushes to his face, chaos erupting as both move their limbs franticly in attempts to untangle.

The raven flies out of the door and in to the sunlight disappearing from his sight. A scream of rage came from below the stairs “you idiots he escaped!” as john snaps out of the shock he notices his wallet and hastily he grabs it and leaves before anyone starts to ask questions that he didn’t have the time to answer.

The clock on the street show 10:12 a.m..

Back at the meeting point, his clients were waiting for him. Ms Taylor a heavy woman with a clothes perfect for a lot slimmer and a lot younger body was standing next to her husband, Mr Taylor a totally unimportant man, oh he did run his own business and had managed to accomplish quiet a few things before he fell in love with his wife. After they got married everybody understood pretty quick who had the balls in that family.

Mister Perilon! Where were you? we have been waiting you for over half an hour! And oh my god you are a mess! Were you running? And whats those scratches on your neck? Is that a proper attire for our lawyer?

I was mugged and the scratches are from a parrot that crashed on my face. That shut her up, for whole total of five seconds.

When…? you… were? What happen? Are you ok?

I am fine, I made the error of chasing him for a few blocks and for that my suite is in a mess, and I made you waiting, I apologize for that. Now if you give me a minute I will be presentable for your case.

The time was 10: 18 a.m.

Three long hours later he made his way back to his office, now a coffee-free  place and with a new, or at least relatively unused, chair.

He sat on his desk and did nothing for the rest of the day.

Until the fight that is.

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