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The Wolf cried, begging for help. His face painted with blood rushing out of his eyes and nose. His clothes dirty, torn and worn out with bloodstains in forms of hands with seven fingers. They weren’t from him.
He raised both of his hands up in the air, or as much as he could with his strength weakened as seconds passed. He looked up to the dark night sky above him. There were neither moons nor stars tonight. The clouds hid them. He tried to raise his voice louder but he couldn’t. Help, he said, over and over again. It repeated endlessly. They weren’t loud enough to reach the humans, angels, demons or any other creatures passing him by. Most of them gave him the look of pity and others with the look of disgust.
He was sitting there, right around the corner of Sixth Street, asking for help. None came to his aid. Not even a single soul. The task force arrived later that night, taking care of him. And by taking care, it meant getting rid of him. They called it the act of justice. I called it execution. Some were against this and took their concerns to the streets where they protested. With one call from the High-Ups, they disappeared. Not a trace left.
I used to look up to the stars and the moon above. They comforted me. Nowadays not so much since the clouds blocked them. Those “clouds”, were artificial. Weather control technology began its reign a few years back. Each corporation stamped their names and branded them. For the greater good, they said. Considering how there were only two species of creatures that were allergic or easily stimulated by the moonlight, them doing this seemed a bit too much.
I stopped looking up. We all did.
A call came in late in the night. It was one-thirty in the morning. Humans had gone to bed, safe and sound in their homes from creatures of the night. Or they might just be simply tired and in need of some good rest after a long day of working and dealing with problems.
I dressed donned the usual attire of black, leather jacket and blue jeans. The T-shirt underneath the jacket was faded blue. I washed it too many times.
The person who contacted me said they would like to hire me for a job. The nature of this particular one was mysterious. The caller said only for me to meet at a diner called Sasha’s and to look for a man dressed in all black. I knew that diner. They had excellent bacon and eggs. Coffee was rather nice but could have improved a little bit more.
I drove down the streets in my old Mustang. I bought it from a junkyard and fixed her up myself. She used to be dead, now she was alive and well. She roared every time I woke her up from sleep or when I asked her to go faster. The machines inside her that kept her running sought after thrills and I provided her so. Fortunate for her my kind of work was exactly just what she needed. She thanked me in return by being fast enough when escaping from bullets or groups of the undead was much needed.
The radio played a song sung in a language ancient to my ears. What station is this, I thought, and twisted the knob to change the station. This one played an instrumental song. It wasn’t classical, just an instrumental version of a song I heard before. It started with a firm, yet, smooth bass line that kicked in, followed by mellow sounds of synthesizers. I nodded my head along.
I rolled down the windows, letting the rush of air blew over me. Mustang seemed to like it too. She sped faster and the wind rushed in even more.
We reached Sasha’s and I rolled the windows back up. I turned off the radio. I said to Mustang to stay put, just in case I needed a quick getaway. I entered the diner, searching for the man who wore black. I gazed to the left and saw a couple of a demon and a vampire. Both were women. I turned to the right and saw the man himself. I approached his table.
“You contacted me?” I asked. He was sipping his cup of coffee. In front of him was an emptied plate. A fork and knife placed neatly together. He had just finished it. The man put down the cup, clearing his throat and began to speak.
“I did, yes. Please, have a seat,” the man offered. I sat down opposite from him. A quick glance to the outside and I saw Mustang was still there as I asked her to.
“Would you like to eat anything? I’d rather have both of us with stomachs full rather than empty,” the man said. I hesitated. So far the man had been different from most of my clients. First of all, he spoke with soft, soothing voice. I could hear no rush in his tone. Second, he was concerned for my well-being. No other clients were like this. They just called me and told me where to meet. I met them. They gave me the job and I parted ways with them to do those assigned jobs. They paid good money.
“I guess so,” I replied, and raised my hand to order. The waitress, tall with long, auburn hair, came to the table. Her eyes were emerald green, brighter than the ones humans had. She smiled, revealing sharp rows of teeth. I wasn’t scared of her, rather, I felt welcomed.
She asked what I’d like to have and I said the diner’s famous bacon and eggs. She nodded, jotting down my order with a pencil onto a small, yellow notepad. The waitress left to place my order so the person in charge of making the meals would be making it right away.
“So, should we discuss right away?” I asked the man. He took another sip of the coffee and smiled right at me. Of course, he said. I observed the man. He really did dress in black. From top to bottom, all black. Be it his suit, tie or even his fingernails which were painted with glossy black. He sure did love this color. I noticed the freckles on both sides of his cheek. I watched as they moved, switching their places. The changes were almost too subtle to notice. I might ask him why they did what they just did.
Bacon and eggs placed right in front of me by the same waitress. I thanked her. “Guess the food came before we get to talk but do say more about what job you’d like me to do,” I said, starting to eat right away. I cut the bacon into pieces since they came in long strips. I tried to chew as quiet as possible, not wanting what the man had to say.
“Oh, forgive me. I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Marco Bodt,” he spoke, offering me a handshake. I shook his hand. They were cold as if I was touching a corpse. “Kirschtein. Jean Kirschtein,” I said my name in response.
I listened to him talking about what job he’d like me to do for him. He started off by saying he worked for the Smith Corporation and that he was in the advanced weapon research division. One of the prototypes was stolen, he told. I swallowed the bacon before asking him what kind of weapon it was.
“Magical. As in, composed mostly of magic”
“What kind of magic?” I asked, curious.
“It’s an ancient black magic. I can’t state the name out loud. I was warned of the consequences that might follow for saying the name outside of worship ground.”
I ran the names in my head. Of all the black magic out there, what was the one that was old and its name could not be said aloud unless you’re in the church where they practice their beliefs? I could think of three. But this was out of pure uncertainty. “Please continue,” I said.
“So, we hired those people to help us craft a weapon so powerful like no other. The Government requested us. No, they ordered us, to invent it. Something for the troops, they said. And, so it seems, something went wrong.”
Something went wrong. The most unholy combination of words ever said in the history of all life on this planet. And by the look on Mr. Bodt’s face, pale and lifeless, told me whatever went wrong had a big magnitude of effect to it.
“What went wrong?” I asked, eating a couple more pieces of bacon along with the eggs this time.
“In order to make it fully functional, you’d need a soul of a demon. Not the ones here, but those from Hell that haven’t surfaced on the ground just yet. And yes, we know how risky it is, but we had to do it. I mean, the Corporation was huge and all but most of the shareholders are those among the ranks in the Ruling House. Those politicians, you know?”
“Let me guess. Those worshippers summoned one for you and said demon got loose?”
Mr. Bodt sighed. “Yes. To make matters worse, the demon fused itself with the weapon.”
“Before I ask you anything else, what kind of weapon is this?”
“It’s a revolver. It looks like any ordinary revolver but what makes it special—”
“—is that it has a demon in it, right? But why do you need one?” I questioned Mr. Bodt. I raised my hand, signaling the waitress again. I ordered coffee to her. She brought the cup for me. The hot, dark liquid gave off a light steam. I blew to cool it down and took a sip.
“You do know what our troops are fighting against out there?” Mr. Bodt glanced over to the table with the vampire and the demon. He reached for a rectangular “Please Rate Our Service” paper stacked inside a wooden box with the name of the diner carved in the front.
He took his pen out to write a word and handed it to me. “Another word I’m not allowed to speak when referring to the mission they’re doing.”
I placed the card in my palm to read it. Waves of disbelief crashed into me. I shook my head, denying of what I just read being true. The word on the paper, written in cursive and on top of the letters printed on it, was werewolves.
“We all know vampires and werewolves are on the same side. Aside from the humans, the demons, the angels and agents of the Great Ones who’re working in the Ruling House and the corporations, you’re the first outsider to know about this clandestine operation.”
I handed the paper back to him, to which he kept inside the pocket of his pants. Words weren’t forming as I was going to speak. Why was there such operation being carried out to wipe the werewolves off? Didn’t the blocking of the clouds enough? Questions came to mind, non-stop. I didn’t even know what to ask him first.
“Your job, Mr. Kirschtein, is to retrieve the weapon,” Mr. Bodt said, sipping the coffee and finishing his cup. I still had food lying in front of me in the plate. I had lost an appetite. I had heard and seen horrible and terrible things about lives being taken in the shadows of the dark alleys.
The fact that werewolves were being eradicated angered and confused me. The fact that the Ruling House was divided into two sides with one killing the other in secret puzzled the hell out of me as well. I never knew this before. Then again, as he told me, I was the first outside of their circles to know.
I rubbed my temple. I looked over to Mustang waiting outside, patience as ever. I gave her a sign of “we might be leaving soon.” She nodded back.
I drank the coffee all in one go. To hell with the burning heat as the liquid slid down my throat. I might just have to say no to Mr. Bodt’s request for me to work for him. There was too many politics in this.
I wasn’t a man of politics. The closest I ever got being involved with politics was when one of my past clients asked me to carry out an assassination of his ex-lover who was working in the Ruling House as one of the senators. I refused. Two days later I got shot right through my hand. The bullet tore through layers of skin and leaving a hole in it. To this very moment, all I could recall was that the person who shot me wore a light brown coat and black leather gloves. Other details pretty much faded.
I tend not to remember the hideous events that occurred to me. I chose not to. Ignorance is bliss, they said.
“I’m gonna have to say no to this, Mr. Bodt. I apologize. There’s too much at stake.” I was about to raise my hand to call the waitress to check the bill when Mr. Bodt grabbed my hand and pulled it down.
He stared right at me. Irises changed from dark brown to a dark shade of red. “You don’t understand, Mr. Kirschtein,” he spoke. His teeth gritted and his grasp tightened. “This weapon is dangerous. I—we cannot let it fall into wrong hands.”
“Yours ain’t the right ones either. Now would you kindly let go of me?” I demanded. Outside, Mustang screamed, ready to barge in to help. I signaled her I was still okay. She backed off, but still with her eyes locked onto me.
Mr. Bodt let go of me. His irises changed back to the normal dark brown. He apologized, stating of his aggressive nature when people did not understand the importance of the matter he was handling. Mr. Bodt looked over my shoulders to catch a glimpse of the demon and the vampire looking right at him. Maybe they sensed he was one of them, or maybe he was another species entirely and they detected an anomaly that was Mr. Bodt.
He cleared his throat, wiping the sweat off of his forehead. “Mr. Kirschtein, please, you have to help us. We tried contacting others in your line of work and they all refused. You’re the last one. Please, we beg you.”
Mr. Bodt pleaded me with his best impression of what humans called “puppy eyes”. Charming, I’d say.
“What’s going to happen to you if I declined?” I asked.
He fell silent, with eyes no longer looking at me but on the surface of the table.
“Shit,” I muttered. With each job, I expected that there’ll always be some details I found contrary to my beliefs or how I viewed the world around me. This one took the cake of being the most contradictory.
I sighed. What to do, what to do?
“I’ll think about it. Is there a way I can contact you in case I decide to take the job?” I asked him, my hand patting him on the shoulder.
He looked up, smiling a faint, soft smile. “Sure. You can call or message me at this number. This is a private number so please don’t let anyone sees it,” Mr. Bodt hands me his card. The front was the usual details about his position at the Smith Corporation and the phone number people could use to contact him in his office. He was the Director of the Advanced Weapon Research Division.
So that’s why he came to me.
I flipped the card to the back. It was plain white until a number appeared on it. This must be the private number he referred to. I kept the card in my wallet. I had to think carefully about this.
“If I can retrieve it, how much would you pay?” I had to ask to be sure. No way I was going to do this for free or for a low cost.
“As much as you’d like,” Mr. Bodt said. “We’re happy to pay. Just bring the weapon to us in the flesh and we’ll be glad to pay you right on the spot.”
With fingers tapping on the table, I pondered about it. I listed the pros, cons, the risks and the dangers that’d come. But he definitely got me with the “as much as you’d like” part. I wasn’t poor or anything, but with enough money I could move away from this city. I had been living in it for too long. I had seen cruelty roaming the streets for too much. It planted itself into my brain and never left. A fresh start might do the job of cleansing it out. I talked about this numerous times with Mustang and she agreed. She had scars too, from working with me. I apologized to her every time, and she always said it’s okay.
A fresh start for me and her and away from all the horrors was the one thing I’d love to do. This job might just be the exit door for me from this hellhole.
“I’ll think about it. There’s a chance I might take it. I’ll give you an answer in a few days. Three days tops.”
Mr. Bodt’s smile widened. He shook my hand. The same cold, dead feeling from his hand permeated all over on my skin. I called the waitress over and paid the meal. Thinking about it, I shouldn’t gulp down all that coffee. That was just plain dumb. There wasn’t any damage to the insides of my throat or anything. Just a normal burning sensation one got from drinking hot liquid too fast.
We got up, straightening our clothes and gave a goodbye handshake. Doubt was present, telling me of all the ways this job could go wrong. I could die, it said. They will tear you apart and eat your flesh, it added. I brushed it off, giving it a good “fuck off”. I warned you, it said again and left.
“Take care, Mr. Kirschtein. I hope you’ll take this job. We all do.” Mr. Bodt chuckled, giving my arm a firm squeeze before leaving. He was about to exit when he turned around and told me he would be waiting by the phone. I don’t really sleep, he said.
“Co-workers called me the Nocturnal Animal,” Mr. Bodt laughed, leaving the diner into the night. I watched him as he walked, his hand tucked inside the comfort of the pockets of his pants. I continued to watch until his presence left the line of sight.
I got out soon after. The couple was still there, whispering words of endearment to each other. The waitress did not wave goodbye to me. She sat still, eyes looking out to nowhere.
“Let’s go home,” I said to Mustang. She lit up with excitement. I’ve been waiting, she spoke. Fortunate for both of us this meeting with Mr. Bodt didn’t go south. I didn’t know whether or not Mr. Bodt knew the fingernails on my hands could turn into sharp blades. I was glad I didn’t have to use that. The last time I had to use ‘em things got real bloody and messy. For starter, a guy’s gut rest comfortably on those blades after I stabbed him with them. He backed out of a deal we made. Money was involved. Betrayal happened. The rest was history. That man died quickly. He had no pain. Maybe he had, but for a couple of seconds before he met his Creator. I left his body there. The undead would feed on him. Those suckers would eat anything they could find.
I drove Mustang back to the streets we came from, leaving the diner. In the area, it was the only establishment still opened and lit with white fluorescent lights. The rest were closed and with lights off. Other than that, only the orange hue from the street lamps would guide the wanderers of the night to their destinations.
Turning on the radio, I was greeted with silence. Radio time was over. I rolled the windows down once again. The breeze was different. It was hot, rather than cool. "Jeez", I uttered and rolled the windows up. The streets were emptied, devoid of cars, people or creatures. I asked Mustang to speed up.
We got home rather quick, considered that there was no traffic and Mustang was fast. I bid her a farewell for the day. She smiled back, waving right back at me and fell into a slumber. I went to my room, taking a quick shower and changed into a more cozy choice of clothing with a white T-shirt and plaid boxers.
I clapped my hands and the lights turned off. It was completely dark. Years ago, there’d be the light from the moon shining right into the room. Now, everything was engulfed by darkness. I had grown accustomed to this absence of light. Other people and creatures did. This would benefit the creatures since most of them were nocturnal.
I closed my eyes, hoping to dream about some place where the moon and the stars shone brightly in the night skies. A sudden bang, followed by another interrupted me. Someone cried, real loud. Another bang and it was quiet. I saw no neighbors turning on their lights. I didn’t turn on either. There was no reason to be worried. Occurrences of murder were as common as getting slipped on a banana peel. It didn’t mean I wanted to stay, though.
I closed my eyes again, hoping there’d be nothing to wake me up. The sun would come up soon, with its shining bright rays waking me and the populace of this city. They only used the clouds to block moonlight.
As I adrift into the land of dreams, I sighed with relief. Another night passed and I was still alive. I’d leave the worrying about whether or not to take the job to the future me who’d wake up when the sun rose from the horizons.
Goodnight. Here’s to a better tomorrow, if there’s any.