A Deal Made (Sequence: Two)

This "Smokey" thing is smart - and it concerns me. After I put on a shirt (as per her instructions) and came back downstairs with the old medical kit in hand, she began to share information with me:

"So each o' these boxes has a false bottum' - tink' they jammed supplies in their."

I laid the medical kit down on the pool-table, some of blood trickled onto the ever-so priceless greenery of the table, "Who is they? Be clear."

"They are uh' well Master o' tings' - I can't tell ya' cuz they came and went quickly en' quietly always. Fore' they plucked us up and put us in these tings' I saw em' loading the boxes with stuff," Smokey hovered down and landed on the opposite end of the pool table, resting on the rim.

"Uh-huh, right," Bitch is hiding something - I think? I should just smash her right here, but that would only be proving myself weak. I think dominating an enemy is true power. If this thing is scheming against me, then I will play along, but I will not be fooled, "So - how do we open these things?" I said as I began to wrap my wounds.

"Eh, last thing I member' is them lockin it with a key. A lil' hissy noise wuz heard, then poof - sleep."

"Doesn't help me. I don't have the key... wait you are out. What makes you so special?"

"Hey! Dun' look at me with those creepy peepers like dat'! I have a good reason ta' be out!" She hovered back, aware of my dangerous scrutiny.

"Better have a good reason. Things don't have so much freedom - I am the master of things, so tell me thing, how does a thing like you just pop on out?" I rested my now bandaged hand on the golden mallet.

"Ya' say ting' one more time I'm gonna have a fit - master o' tings..." she crossed her arms defiantly. This thing is testing my patience. I should just kill it, but that means no information.

"Tell me now," I firmly gripped the mallet.

It let out the most fucking annoying raspy giggle I have ever had the displeasure of hearing, "Well ya' big ol' cook you're in luck. I jus' happen to be a key!"

"Well, go on, open up the things then. Let your uh... peers out," I pointed the mallet at the box nearest to me.

"Not so fast, we wuz' talkin bout the supplies - let's get those in orda' before muckin' about wit' the other fairies," it hovered above me - careful to be just out of easy reach.

So, what I said earlier, this Smokey thing being smart. It is concerning. I went on to lift each - well, let us call these fairy containers stasis chambers, or some sci-fi shit like that. I lifted each stasis chamber out of their boxes and lined them up neatly on the other side of the pool table. All four set next to each-other were just short of being the same length as the long end of a pool table. Before I knew it, Smokey hovered into each box and pressed a button that folded up each false bottom. Whatever sent these things to me left a sizable cache of resources in each box, so the intention was for the destination to keep them. I specify "destination" and not "me" because I am somewhat sure that these were not intended for me. Well, one thing discredits that theory - this Smokey thing.

It popped out and got right to business. Once I began to sort all the resources she hovered to each pile and took count of them, "Dried mushrooms, medical supplies, gel-water, nigh-nigh pills, toys, mini coloring books, mist spraya', and treats. Ya' master o' tings these red tings' in the jar are like uh... how do humans say it... like crack to us."

I was quiet. Smokey, being so open, aware, and just - accepting? I think this thing earns the coveted acknowledgment of a pronoun. She was the key to not only the stasis chambers, but also my desires: control, power, purpose. The little red-eyed fairy has earned my respect. Yet, in a twist of fate, I could not help but have a contrary double-thought. What if the thing was innately likable through some nefarious means. Maybe mind-control? Even then, if I am questioning whether or not it is mind control then I should be safe. After-all, Smokey has only offered to help figure out what to do with so many fairies:

"Smokey, so with the supplies all out and organized - can we uh, open these?" I sheepishly pointed a finger at one of the stasis chambers. It felt weird speaking normally to something. Using my words felt wrong.

"Oh, ya' gotsa sudden polite streak, eh? Lemmee go oer' sum' rules first, right?"

"Eh, rules?" I was genuinely confused. What rules could she have?

"Think o' it more like one of dem' human contracts. A lil' agreement tween' me and you."

Well, Smokey seems to know a lot about humanity. I think back to Lucy and do not recall any sign of her knowing any human-culture right off the bat. That thing's understanding came with time and was limited to what the television showed. On the other hand, Smokey came right out the stasis chamber making references to contracts and crack. It is safe to assume that she has had past interactions with humans, or somehow has innate understanding of us. I wanted to press for more information on this topic; however, I was more interested in hearing Smokey's agreement:

"Go on?"

"Rule one: No killin' fairies - now, I knows ya' heart, so light to moderate torture is allowed. Rule two: Ya' gonna take me out every week ta' a new place as payment for my services. Rule three: Ya' are gonna listen to advice, kay? I got a neat lil' way to turn a profit from dis' situation."

"Uh? Profit? There's money to be made. W- well, I'm not exactly hurting for money," I nervously scratched the back of my neck. Why did a little fairy want to turn a profit? Hell, how are we going to do that anyways? I was thinking this would be an enslavement/captivity deal for my own pleasure. Give me a little hobby that makes me feel powerful.

"Oh, but ya' will be one o' these days. Humans have a way o' losin' their things," Smokey's toothy grin showcased her sinister pair of fangs. The way she said that I would be in trouble one day somehow hit me hard. So hard in-fact, the urge to crush the little thing completely faded away. Smokey was beginning to feel like a divine boon given to me based off good karma. Sure, I might have gave Lucy a permanent bath some years ago, but in the time frame I have not done any stand-out sins. Although, I have not done anything at all.

Well, I am dangerous. After-all, I am the master of things, so me stay isolated is keeping everyone else safe. I can now safely conclude that Smokey is a boon that will guide me through unforeseen hardship to come. I nodded in agreement to signal for her to go on.

"Won't let the secret slip yet - but we are gonna get into tha' fairy sellin business. I knowza thin' or two that will aid in the acquisition of fairies. Masta' o' things, you are gonna have to pay for more advice. Start by takin' me out somewhere ta' eat - got it? Leave em' for later and let's get some sunshine."

The prospect of travelling out of my comfort zone, such as the convenience store, concerned me more than the ethical question of selling fairies. Honestly, those words just slid right past my mind. It just made sense. These things are illegal so there is demand, and we can meet said demand. Smokey displayed not a shred of fear in her words and seemed to know what she was doing. I am not afraid of potential consequence because I have her and I am great. I am a man. I am the master of things.

I was initially concerned to take a fairy out, but Smokey was aware that she was to remain hidden. I slipped on a hoodie, which was far too large on my gaunt frame. Smokey hid in the hoodie pocket alongside my wallet, "So, uh, I haven't driven in a while." I mentioned as neared the blue truck, even more outdated since the last time I drove it, "Well, I'm not even sure if it will run. I haven't driven it in a while."

Her raspy voice called out, "Well you got legs - use em!"

Initially, I thought that I was going to take Smokey out somewhere I have not been in years, such as your typical fast food joint. I wanted to. Having a new thing who seemed to have a clear directive in mind had me going for a minute. Was this another resurgence like with Lucy? I need to pace myself for now - especially now days. If I crack under pressure, that means unwanted attention, which means unannounced wellness inspections. So that means the first destination I will be taking Smokey to is the one I always frequent: the convenience store.

I have walked this path at-least once every week since dad passed. It never ceases to change. Sometimes in major ways and other times in subtle ways. I never thought automated snow-white police cruisers would be a frequent sight. On the subtle side of things, kids in the neighborhood grow older and people go-away. Me noticing the subtle things might make it seem like I care - I don't. They live shallow lives chasing things. I have nothing to chase because I am fulfilled, so that is why I am so distant, right? Yes! That makes sense. Smokey is just the next step in fulfillment and will bring me to a new level of nirvana.

Anyways, the convenience store is a straight walk through the neighborhood and across the street. The small-city I live in is light on traffic, especially these days, so crossing the street is a breeze. Why do I point out this minute detail? Any other road other than the one I have dubbed "Convenience Row" terrifies me. I have always had a phobia of crossing roads, especially new ones. If I see it enough, then maybe I will be able to cross it in the dead of night when the risk of splattering is the lowest, and then I can work myself up from there. Back when I was in high-school, the most social time of my life, that was the process.

"Ooo.." cooed Smokey. What was she oooing about? Was she peaking out of the pocket? I don't think so, but she needs to be quiet.

"Quiet, if a snow-white comes by t- then... yeah," The police, or whatever they called themselves now days, had a system where automated Snow White patrol cars sampled audio from the surrounding area. It was sent back to a central processing area and determined the danger level of said conversation. All this sci-fi shit might sound cool on paper, but living in it is a little different. I do not think me talking to Smokey would trigger an investigation because the system is so overburdened with non-sense it focuses on key buzzwords; although, risking conversation with Smokey where a snow-white might hear us is not worth a potential police raid.

"Snow-white? Wuts' that? Dun worry masta o' tings' - you are hardly that interestin'. No one will wanna go up ta' a man so unshaven as ya."

Me? Uninteresting? I will let this slight against me slide because Smokey just met me. Sure, I spent most of my life alone, away, isolated, and so on - but for good reason: I am both fulfilled and dangerous. My isolation is done out of mercy for everyone else. Their little reality TV lives would end if I saw fit. Every day, I wake up and visualize the destruction of their reality. Guns are hard to come by now-days, or so my favorite radio show says, but with a little bit of learning I could totally unlock the bio-lock on a police rifle. Once that is done I would fit it with an extended mag, suit up with full level IV tested body armor acquired from the local armory (Pfft... I could rob that place EASY). Top it all off with a ballistic face mask and I would be set. Hop the fence Sunday afternoon when the neighbors are merry-making in their fake little world and give them a taste of reality. I would let all the snow-whites come into my carefully laid out improvised explosive device web then blow it all sky high. While the cops sort through the mess I would be long gone and in the next town over. It would be easy to get over. I abandon my truck two miles before the ID-checkpoint and branch off to my cleverly hidden backup vehicle in the woods. Then I would cleverly circumvent the checkpoint by using the back-roads to get right on the outskirt of the next town over. This should put me next to the nuclear reactor - I would roll up right in their in the dead of night and destabilize the rods then FUCKING nuke everything within fifty miles, but I would be out of their because I hijacked a helicopter in time. I would repeat this process until everyone has learned what the truth is.

And interrupting me - a door, "Ouch!"

"Day dreamin' eh? Look alive!" Smokey shouted up as I rubbed my head after I bumped into the convenience store door.

I reached into my hoodie pocket for my wallet so I could produce my ID, "Geez... at-least shut up - or keep it down once we're inside, okay?" Then I noticed it - the citizen-lock that was usually on the door was gone. What the hell?

"Heya! Heyyy~" A sickly sweet voice called from the other side of the glass door, "No ID needed anymore. We took it off once we bought this place, so c'mon on in!"

What the fuck? Bought? When? I was just here last week - I think? Then the new owner, a chipper voiced female, tore off an important security measure? Well, this is the worst thing that has happened in a while. I stood outside simply staring back at her through the door. Her hair was died a copper color, yuck. I could see behind her another female, similar in appearance, with dyed green hair, double-yuck. "Eh... Uh...." My disgust was not letting me get out any words. I began to get hot, sweaty, and had the desire to back away. Of-course this was all because they removed an important security measure. Do you understand?

"Don't just stand there buddy - come on step back. I'll open the door for ya~" she opened the door for me. Glad she assumed I cannot open doors for myself. Well, I scurried on in and got to the far side of the convenience store ASAP out of fear that smokey might blurt out something.

"Wowza - you really are sometin'. Do you normally talk to people like dat?" Smokey said with perfect timing as we slid right out of earshot.

"Quiet - here come out. No cameras back here. They only have them at the counter," I scooped her up and set her between two bags of potato chips. We were currently on the far end of the convenience store, next to the wealth of drinks, and just a few steps from the alcohol. The shelves were high enough to make it look like I was really contemplating my choice of snack and totally NOT talking to a red-eyed naked fairy with fangs.

"So, dis' is it? Food? Geez, was expectin' somethin' a bit more fancy and meaty."

"Uh, r- right," Why do I feel shame? Did I think this would impress her somehow? "I'll get you something nice, hold on."

Clearly I was not out of visual range, "Hey mister!" The green haired one called out, "You okay? I know it's not a crime to talk to yourself, well it sort of is, but in this store it isn't! Anyways! If you need anything just ask me, or Hazel. By the by my name is Basel! Anyways, stop asking the chips for advice. It's kinda weird."

Smokey seemed to find that funny judging by her toothy expression. I wanted to give her a piece of my mind and tell her this bitch is being short-sighted and should mind her own business, but I also do not want to appear like I am talking to chips. So I just shut up and got on with my business. I grabbed up two hots dogs (although I had doubts my partner could finish one) and went up to the counter, "Two? Wow! You must be hungry!" the green haired lady remarked.

"Quiet Basel - chiding the customer is not good for business. Oh, can I interest you in a fidget spinner my good sir?" Her copper haired companion pointed to a neatly stacked pyramid of the outdated toys.

"Uh..." It was happening again - that feeling within. My lips were being twisted, my mind numb, and vision blurry.

"Only nine ninety nine!" They sounded off in uncanny unison.

Did my disgust extend so far that I was still bitter? I needed to complete this transaction so I could leave these two deviants behind. Surely, there was a reason for this. It was in no way me. No. No No. I am the Master of Things, thus it is only natural such putrid rabble's degenerative mewing would only leave me confused. So, speaking their level of language I let out a simple, "No!" as I refused to make eye contact with them, "Go! Here! Take it!" Ha! Told those pair of pricks...

I tossed money on the counter and got the hell out of their. Besides, what kind of names are Hazel and Basel? Their parents must hate them.

As I hurriedly made my way home, Smokey remarked, "Do men normally talk like dat?"

"Shut up."​