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Wednesday, November 23rd - North Side Suburbs: 22:00*knock
*knock
*knock
The rasping sound came knocking on the door of the Adel Coven. Near the door, a thrall stood ready to receive, yet it did not move towards the door. The coven was punctual, structured, and ordered. There was nary a knock at the door that was not scheduled, especially not at this hour.
*knock
*knock
*knock
The scratching sound came next. It sounded as if massive claws were digging through the solid oak door with ease. The thrall remained frozen in place. A singular word flashed through its mind, “danger,” as it backed up towards a silent alarm on the far end of the entryway. It went to press it but was suddenly stopped by the sound of a guitar riff outside. Almost immediately, its arms fell to its side as its head began to twitch as the music continued. It was a low and slow song, and after a few seconds, it turned around and began to convulse as it walked towards the door. To an outside observe,r it would be clear that this creature was trying to fight whatever had fallen over it, yet, as it continued, it was clear that it was incable of doing so. As it reached the door, it began to unlock every lock until there was one left. As it reached for the final one a second thrall appeared in the room and saw what was happening. The silent alarm was pressed at the same time as the last lock was undone, and the door flew open as a monster entered the room. Resembling a cross between an armored knight and something out of a monster versus machine movi,e the monster before the thralls was a sleek, mechanical, and lightly armored unit with two reversed blades attached to each arm and knives for fingers. The first thrall was cut from the tip of their head through their groin in an instant, splitting apart and falling to the ground with a sickening plop. The second thrall reached for a gun, but the mechanical monster flew across the room in an instant, plunging its hands deep into the chest cavity of the thrall. The hands were pulled out and stabbed back in all across the body, even well after it went limp.
Behind the monster entered a large group. Each person was decked out with a battle jacket, and a mask that had LED lights attached haphazardly across the face plate. The one who led the group into the building had a massive warhammer resting on their shoulders and chuckled at the sight before him.
"Shall we,", the leader asked as he pointed the hammer towards the rest of the house. Shouted orders could be heard from the many rooms of the mansion, and the sound of guns racking and summonings happening. This group was in for a fight.
A smaller figure stepped out from behind the leader, jacket covered in embroidered mushrooms with spiralling mycalae formed of white thread down the haphazardly shortened sleeves. It blended in with the white threads wriggling under the person's skin as it peeled back to allow dark spikes to grow through. ”Don't start gearing up for a fucking speech. Let's get on with it.”
As they spoke, another Thrall ran into the room, gun blazing. Bullets bounced off the metal monster, some embedding in the spiky arm that was stretching out to an inhuman length to grab it. But right before clawed fingers ripped out the Thrall's throat, a knife embedded in its head.
”That was mine.” The tiny, stretchy figure spun around to glare at a smaller person behind them- though it wasn't visible through the mask.
The other just held up their hands in a shrug. "Snooze you lose, Myki."
“Their are plenty of blood sucking mother fuckers here so don’t worry,” another man added, his beard and longer hair spilling out of the mask. In his hands was an ethereal guitar, and a pulsating pick that hummed with energy. The man strummed a quick note and it played as if it was attached to speakers. An energy wave quickly auras spread outward and surged through the house. “At least three dozen.”
A portal opened up next to the man and two feminine figures walked through a second later. “Awww man, their taste is so boring.
“I’m surprised you can count that high, Björn,” the second figure said as she walked over to the guitar player and ran a hand across his chest. “perimeter is looping so no prying eyes tonight.”
The conversation was cut short by the sound of a dozen footsteps approaching. A big horde of vampires would soon be upon them. The lead man started to chuckle as he did a few test swings of his axe, and sent an order to the metal monster who readied its blades in response “Let’s kill then all,” Wrath responded.
”Only thirty?” The short, mushroom jacket man- Mykitas- pouted. He wasn't bothered at all by the footsteps, rather casually walking further down the hallway. It was rather grand… of course it was. Rich blood suckers would love in places like this. ”That’s too easy. I could just throw a bomb in and call it a day. Do we even need to be here?”
"Do you do anything but complain?" the knife wielder rolled her eyes. As she did, she stepped up to their leader, switchblade twirling between her fingers. "You want boosted now or-"
But the vampire thralls were already upon them, and they came out blasting. Knife wielder quickly pressed themselves against the wall, a whole array of knives shooting up to block bullets in front of them. But they quickly cast on the bullets themselves, freezing them in front of them… But only them. The others could handle themselves.
Mushroom man wasn't so lucky. Moved ahead as he was, he took a whole round worth of bullets right on the chest. Immediately, he crumpled to the floor.
“Bjorn,” Wrath ordered as he took cover behind a wall. The black on his jacket began to vibrate as if getting ready for an action. The metal monster raised it’s blades up but the bullets quickly tore through the light armor and the monster also fell to one knee. Bjorn raised up the pick and began to strum their guitar, and began to play Master of Puppets. As he played the rest of the instrumentals of the song, quickly filled the air as if played by an unseen presence. As the song carried on, several of the thralls started to convulse as black tendrils began to spread inward from their ears. A few groaned and tried to plug their ears with their fingers, but it was too late. The spell had already taken hold. These thralls raised their weapons up against their family and friends and began to fire. The sudden betrayal caught the rest off guard, yet the puppeted thralls were sluggish and not precise with their aim and only clipped the vampires. The uncorrupted ones quickly dispatched the thralls with single-fire, aimed shots to the hearts. In this confusion, the teleporter, Night, walked up next to Wrath and placed their hand on his shoulder. The pair quickly disappeared into a cloud of purple smoke. A second later, they reappeared well behind the dozen vampire thralls. As Wrath appeared, the black of his jacket surged to his hand like water flowing over a rock and quickly it formed into a large oval shield that covered Wrath from his neck down to his knees. The warhammer seemingly melted down until it resembled a lightning-infused one-handed crossbow. Wrath unleashed the first bolt, and it cut through the thrall like a hot knife through butter. The thrall crumpled to the floor. Night disappeared into another cloud of purple smoke and appeared back with their group.
As Night came back, the bullets hanging in front of Razor spun around. With a light orange glow they shot back towards the thrall without much aim, destroying limbs and disabling others. Some bounced off Wrath's shield harmlessly. Their knives spun around Razor's head as they considered what to do. Kill them all efficiently or…
"Wrath, take this." Pink and orange magic flared from Razor's fingertips, coating the switchblade in their hand. It surrounded Wrath as it super boosted him magically and mentally. "Try take them all out one shot-"
Their knives moved out to the defensive, forming a wall to block bullets that the Thralls aimed at Night. They were a bit smarter than at least Razor had expected… probably directly controlled by someone deeper within.
Wrath kept walking towards the vampire’s minions, shield rejecting each bullet sent its way. As he walked he fired off bolt after bolt of electric energy that burrowed through the chest of the targets. Seven…six…five he counted out after each one fell. His crew was strong, and they were making short work of this wave.
Multiple knives flew out, taking out three Thralls at once. Quick and efficient. It was easy enough to stop the bullets and kill at the same time for Razor. Unless that had Orange Lux themselves how could they stop it?
Until there was just one left. The thrall was panicking, preparing to flee deeper into the house- when something curled around its ankle and tripped it over. Tiny white threads pinned it to the ground before tearing out it's throat.
”Ugh… bullets are always a pain.” Mykitas pushed himself back to his feet, metal casings falling to the floor as they were pushed out of his pallid skin. There was no blood from any of the wounds- not when he didn't need to fake it. The same mycelae he'd used to kill the last thrall filled up all of the gaps, until it was like nothing had happened. ”It’d be easier if they cut off a limb.”
“You take them like a champ though,” Bjorn chuckled as he began to play the same song again. He squatted down a little as he continued to shred.
“Maybe the next wave will have better tactics,”
“Cuter vampires as well.
“Night you’re not gonna find an Edward here I’m sorry to say”
Razor leaned forward to dramatically gag. "Gross. If you try hook up with a vampire, I'm killing all of us. And if any of ‘em sparkle? Fuck, they're going first."
Mykitas let out a short laugh, moving towards Wrath. ”At least we don't have to look for any cute vampires, huh?”
“None would come close to your cuteness.” . Even though the mask obscured it Wrath winked.
He giggled in response, the mycelium poking out of his arms wriggling a little bit. Not quite the murderous mushroom he'd been moment before… but there wasn't anything to murder, was there?
"Gross, quit it, lovebirds." Razor gagged again. "Where the fuck is our eyes?"
Enjoying the show! The voice filtered into all of their heads. Just checking all my pictures… right… If you keep going down the hall, you'll find stairs down. Most of the shit above ground is just for show. Down there's where it gets real fun!
“That’s where the rest of the thralls and big shots are”
“Well,” Wrath walked over to his fallen mech and placed his hand on it. The form turned to a liquid like shape and soon more liquid was added from the material of the jacket. The walker stood back up, and was ready for combat again.
“Let’s go get them.”
"Don't need to tell me twice." Razor recalled all of their daggers from the Thralls they'd killed, bloodied blades clicking in as they fell back into their pockets.
Mykitas didn't push ahead like the last time- or at least, he walked at the front with Wrath. It wasn't difficult to find a stairway down. The upper levels were practically abandoned. Clearly they'd pulled in all the security, hoping to overwhelm them down there or some shit. As they went downwards, he tilted his head back and sniffed the air.
”Ooo… they got some real nice growth down here. Bet it's in all've the bodies.”
”Makes sense.
”Heads up, Magic said as she followed the group, ”solid door ahead.”
”Oh no… Not a door!” Mykitas gasped, before laughing.
It didn't take long for them to reach said door. It was a bit more of a pain than Mykitas had expected- who fucking made doors out of stone nowadays? But… nothing was really that much of a problem. He shrugged. ”Any arguments against me destroying it?”
Not that he waited before punching a hole straight through the stone.
The door crumbled under the relentless assault. As the last stone fell Bjorn began to once again play Master Of Puppets. The tendrils of the musical spell began to assault the guards inside.
“Who wants to kill the first rich fuck?”
"C’mon, like you ain’t got a favourite," Razor groaned, knives coming back to float around them magically. They stared at Mykitas.
Mykitas pointed to himself, head tilted as he gave his best, innocent ‘who, me?’ look. It wasn’t necessarily true. The more murderous side of him wasn’t the part Wrath was besotted with. ”I don’t need to kill the first. I’d rather drag it out, anyway. Make them suffer.”
“Then make them suffer”
”Oh, I plan to.” Mykitas smirked. It would be oh so easy…
"We gotta get to them first.” Razor pointed out, trying to listen for where the next group of guards actually was.
"We could be going into full fucking catacombs down here.”
It’s not that bad. Keep going down the long corridor you’re on! It’ll widen out eventually into like… a crypt? There’s loads of guys there. But their safe room is off it! That doors gonna be more of a pain, though.
Wrath pulled all his energy back to him, and with it all his constructs and weapons crumbled with it. He quickly channeled his magic and reformed The Wolf and looked to the rest of the crew. He took a deep breath and gave them a quick nod of his head. “Follow the hound in, it should distract them long enough to get us to where we’re going.”
A moment later the construct was through the wall on a blinding speed, slamming into the wall opposite the hole in an explosive impact that sent concrete and dust flying into the tunnel. As the shrapnel moved in slow motion around, it watched as the nearly three dozen armed guards began to move their guns ever so slowly towards its position. Before the first bullet was even fired it engaged it’s systems and launched from its perch, peppering the nearby guards in the ruined concrete and dust. It landed a quarter of the distance down the tunnel. As it flew, it grabbed one of the guards and carried him by his chest into the wall causing the man to explode outward in a torrent of blood that joined the new dust cloud. Several shots rang out only it was fired towards where the construct was. The guns all began to turn towards it once again. The construct adjusted its position, dropping the guard which was embedded in the concrete. It launched again, blades raised, towards two guards bisecting them in an instant. It landed three quarters of the way down the hall and continued to build up the smoke cloud inside. All guns now faced away from the makeshift hole, an opening was created for the rest to follow.
"Making shit real easy for us, huh?" Razor intoned as she stepped through the hole created, looking around to locate the safe room door.
It was easy to find… A massive metal door in the wall, halfway down the room.
"How the fuck do we get through that? We ain't punching through metal."
”The wall beside it… no way that whole thing is metal.” Mykitas intoned, crouching down and touching the ground. Wriggling white tendrils spiralled out from his fingers, slipping up and burrowing into the skin of each guard the construct hadn't already killed. It was easy to poison them all when his mycelium had wriggled into their veins. Toxic liquid pumped in as they started dropping with painful groans.
Wrath simply pulled back his magic from his construct, causing it to melt onto the ground and move as a liquid back to his form. He held out his hand, summoning a weapon capable of breaking through the only obstacle in their way. A four-tubed launcher quickly materialized from Wrath’s magic, and without saying a word pulled down all four triggers at once, sending the rockets flying through the air and into the vault door. The shaped charges impacted, and instantly blew a hole through the door sending the molten core through the metal of the door and shards of sharp, hot, metal as shrapnel. While the door was still standing, Wrath suspected that whoever was on the other side was no longer having a good time. He pulled the magic back from the launcher, and immediately used it to create another weapon, this time a six round grenade launcher.
Wrath took slow, deliberate steps as he appeared to approach the metal vault with a particular spring in each step. As he stood in front, he leaned over and looked through the holes left by his magical launcher and saw movement inside. He pressed the barrel to the hole and fired the first grenade, with a meaty *thum* filling the air before it was drowned out by the explosive sound inside the vault and the subsequent screams and cries of pain. *thum* A second grenade was launched, and then a third, and then a fourth, and then a fifth, and finally the last grenade was spent and Wrath pulled back his magic causing the weapon to melt in his hands. He leaned forward once again and looked through the holes, and smiled.
“Search the rest of the premises, and get ready for a bonfire.”
"On it, boss." Razor didn't stick around, stepping over corpses towards another exit.
Mykitas looked up at Wrath from a corpse his mycelium had started to slowly devour, pout covered by his mask. But his big, brown eyes showed it enough.
”You said I could make them suffer! You killed them way too quickly!” He whined slightly, like a child whose favourite toy had been taken away.
“Well that just won’t do.” Wrath paused as he placed his hands on his hips, “I think there’s a CEO who lives nearby. If you want we can stop by in the next night or two and you can have them all to yourself.”
”Really?” Mykitas' eyes lit up, white tendrils wriggling across the dark brown in excitement.
”I’m holding you to that. We can have a nice date night torturing a CEO.”
Underneath the mask he grinned. He didn't move to search the premises like the others, stuck in the spot by the mycelium he had burrowing through the ground and into the corpses. He had to make the most of the sustenance while it was still fresh and unburnt. It beat rotting fruit.
”Ahhh… Nothing tastes quite as good as flesh. Shame, though, there's a taint from the vampires.”
“Eat up my love,” Wrath paused as he began to pull his magic into his hand, creating three round explosive devices with a beeping red light. He began to push as much of his raw, destructive lux into these devices. “Once you’re finished, we’ll burn this place down only after you’ve had your fill.”
Fire stations all across the city sprung into action as the alarms blared. Men and women alike threw on their gear and ran for their trucks and blasted their way onto the streets. As the fire trucks arrived on the scene, those assembled could only look on in horror as the fire that had just started had burned the building to near complete ash. It will be clear that this was no ordinary fire as it burned far too quick to explain through mundane means. Nary a trace of those who called this place home remained, nor did any of the structure by the time it was done.
Wraith watched on with glee as that stain on the city was washed away under the purifying fire of his magic. No more covens, no more corruption, and mercy no more. Death would come to those who abused the people of this world, and this fire was just the start. As their skyline filled with ash, and the blinding lights of fire engines, the North Side would begin to feel what the South has long suffered through. They will know pain.
Wednesday, November 23rd - Downtown, Freya’s penthouse: 23:00Freya could not believe what she was seeing. Her hand trembled as she scrolled through her phone, post by post, video by video, reaction by reaction, and comment by comment. She saw that the common theme was one of anger. How could this person, who the community had built up, turn out to be a monster? Where did they get the nerve to think the way they thought? And the calls to boycott grew louder by the second. There was a proverbial mob out for blood and they would not stop until the source of their ire was torn from proverbial limb to limb.
And their anger was directed at Freya
She did not know how, she did not know why, but for some reason some wack job reporter down in the slums of the Lower District, got access to her private, confidential, messages between her friends. In these messages Freya only said the quiet parts out loud because in the safety of a text thread it was still quiet. Her comments about how those ’lazy fucks did not know the difference between a hard days work and oppression’ or how ’we should, like, rent a bulldozer and push their homes away from the river. What are they going to do, stop us,’ and even her message that ’if they just listened to what the police were saying this could have all been avoided.’ These jokes were taken out of context, spread across the internet, and were being parroted by the very same low life assholes who made their city so bad.
And there was nothing Freya could do to stop it.
Despite the best effort to kill the story, spin it with her PR firm, and deflect with a barrage of good news from the bakery, it was spreading like wildfire across the city. There were already people protesting outside her bakery, which was still closed, mind you, after that fucking monster had the gall to attack her at work. What did they hope to accomplish by protesting today? It was only growing larger, and soon she would need to look at hiring a security firm to protect her assets from harm. Freya wanted to be out there, in front of the people, but instead she remained tucked in the corner of her bed pressed between the two walls that supported her.
A phone call flashed across her screen, forcing her face to recoil backwards. It was her dad. She let the call go to voicemail. She tossed her phone next to her and pulled her blanket around her tighter. The phone vibrated and rang again, the light of her screen casting shadows all across the room. She once again let it go to voicemail. Eventually, a text message flashed across the screen
Answer the phone, honey, and a few seconds later the phone rang again. Freya answered it this time.“Hey.”
“Hey Kiddo. Saw the news this morning.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not mad or anything, but what the fuck were you thinking saying that,” he paused as she could hear his blood pressure rising, “on an unsecure app? For fuck sakes Ray. Thankfully my business is not being hit, but this. This is not going to go away on its own.”
“Yeah.”
“So here’s the deal. I will help you out with this. You spend a couple weeks doing what I tell you, and what the PR people tell you. There will be a film crew coming your way in an hour, and they will help you film your apology. That will be enough for most of your clients to keep coming, even if it’s through the delivery apps. People will forget before long, but it couldn’t hurt to find some opportunities to soften your image. We’ll discuss strategy after you post your video, come to the tower and I will meet you there.”
“Okay.”
“This is why I told you to not fucking open that bakery. What do I know, though? It’s not like I don’t know who my daughter is, and how fucking spoiled rotten I allowed her to get. It’s why you should just enjoy your life with that trust fund I set up for you. Like why the fuck did you even consider a life of labor. Still, still, we will get through this. I got you.”
“Thank you, Dad, I lov-.”
“Gotta drop, another call coming through. See you at the tower.”
Freya let the phone drop from her ear as she leaned back into the corner even further and cursed the ancients for her luck. A buzz forced her eyes back to the screen. Apparently, Gideon Cross had planned a Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow night. It might be crazy, but she figured she could at least bring up the idea at the late night meeting with her father.
Thursday, November 24rd - The Hollow: 16:15It was finally Thanksgiving.
All across Cloverfield families gathered together to share in the tradition of giving. In the north the generations gathered. The fancy brick laid streets were packed with the latest models of fancy cars, the orange brick townhouses and modern condos were filled with the scents of perfectly browned turkeys and well prepared sides, and there was nary a worry about the cold outside of three occasional ‘sure is cold this year’, ‘could use some of that global warming,’ and ‘wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t for that wind’ comments that were repeated numerous times throughout the day. The homes were packed, spirits were high, and all were looking forward to that first bite of dinner.
In the lower districts, however, the cold seemingly took a more sinister twist. Its icy talons cut through layers, insulation, and even the walls of the home. Normally, reheated turkey slices or a rotisserie chicken from a Costco would be the main attraction for the dinner with instant mashed potatoes, canned vegetables, and stale pies complementing it. Some families would save for months for a better Thanksgiving and Christmas but many were not afforded that luxury. That was why the Hollow was packed, and shuttle buses kept pulling up to drop off even more people. The sudden change overnight with the weather caught many off guard, but Gideon knew he had to be ready for anything and had planned for just this occasion. Inside the Hollow a sweet blend of roasted turkey, endless deserts, and sides replaced the normal scents of spilled beer and cigarettes. Long, folding tables covered with plastic tablecloths filled the normally open floor, allowing dozens of families to eat at once. The kitchen was loud, filled with too many cooks for the small size. Outside the back door, several deep fry stations were set up to help prepare the mass of food needed to feed the masses. Most families of the lower districts were arriving, had arrived, or were planning to come tonight.
All of this was organized, and paid for, by Gideon. He stood by the front door, with a warm smile and a warm cup of coffee ready to hand out to the next guests. That next guest was Ms. Thorn. She was a well known elementary school teacher who used to teach at the most prestigious schools North of the river. When she was five years away from retirement with a full pension payment she was fired on a made up charge of “misappropriating funds”. Her students, and their parents, knew this was bullshit, and was only done because the schools in the North had a habit of not wanting to pay full pension benefits to their workers. That was twenty years ago and she has had to work at the elementary schools on the South Side to try and save for a retirement that was promised to her decades prior. Gideon made sure she was taken care of, to the best of his ability. She never wanted food, company, or repairs to her old home.
Right behind Ms. Thorn was her two young grandchildren. They were twins, and were fourteen years of age. Their parents were both out of the picture, and they had been living with their grandmother for the last five years. Their father was a steel worker who had advanced up the ranks at the mill, only to be laid off when the North Side owners shut it down and moved production overseas. To cope with the financial burden unexpectedly thrust on him he turned to drugs, and was eventually arrested and thrown into a prison designed to keep him locked up. Their mother grew sick and could not afford to get better. Thus, instead of a lifetime of trauma, Ms. Thorn took the grandkids in and has been raising them ever since. Gideon has put away enough for the two kids to have a full ride to whatever school their grades carry them in, and the tutoring sessions he’s paid for have ensured that it will be good.
This is what this city should be about. Hard work being rewarded, and everyone helping each other out. Instead, he could only see the selfish desire of a corrupt government and their lies about how everyone was on a level field when it came to survival. Gideon knew better than most that this lie, this great lie, had wormed its way into the hearts of so many. There were still too many people in this city, even in the Lower Districts, who viewed themselves as these temporarily financially embarrassed rich people who will never see the fruit of their labor rewarded. Instead, they vote against their own interests, electing people who bleed the Lower District dry, and allocate funds to the North side repairs. Most of them called the North their home and Gideon knew that they had more in common with the Lower District than the North, yet they fell for the propaganda that directed their anger to the side instead of upwards. Eventually, Gideon and his message would reach their ears and they could heed the call, or get the fuck out of his way.
Eventually, one of those ‘out-of-touch’ Northerns walked through the door and Gideon could only laugh at who he saw before him.
“Oh. Oh ho ha, my. My, my, my,” Gideon paused as he placed his hands on his hips, crooking his head as a sly grin crossed his face, “Ms. Freya fucking Collins,” Gideon paused as he heard the sound drop from behind him. Everyone had stopped what they were doing and started to stare right at the door
Freya sunk down into herself. She did not like the eyes on her. Especially after someone leaked her group chat and drove the internet into her business, and began to boycott her business. [color= 8A2BE2]“I was wondering if there was anything I could do to he-.”[/color]
“Freya fucking Collins, my, my,” Gideon interuppted as he crossed his arms, “what the fuck are you doing here? I thought you liked to call us dirty fucking leeches from the anonymity of your phone,” Gideon paused as he leaned forward, shit eating grin spreading. “Did something,” Gideon paused once again as he closed the gap even further, standing well within her own personal space, “happen?” Gideon knew all too well what happened. Someone had gotten into Freya’s personal business, and approached Gideon with the dirt. Once Gideon saw the kind of stuff she was posting behind closed doors he knew he had to knock her down a peg or two. Thus, he made sure the chats were sent to the right tabloids, and media outlets, and may have paid a bot farm or two to make the story go viral. He knew that her business was likely finished. What he didn't expect was her coming to him. This would be fun.
“I want to help.”
“Help,” Gideon almost could not contain his glee, “you, help,” Gideon pointed at Freya before he paused, his grin dropped from his face in an instant as he leaned back up and straightened his back. “Why the fuck would I want your help?”
Freya winced at the sudden shift. While she still did not believe she did anything wrong, she did know she needed to do something to stop the bleeding. Social media was abuzz about this thanksgiving dinner, and she knew there would be people who would recognize her here. Thus, she hoped she could get behind the counter and have some rando snap a photo of her helping the people she despised. “I may have said some things that I-.”
“Fuck,” Gideon paused as he shook his head, “off. Let me guess,” he didn't need to, “you’re hoping you can do some work with us here today to counter what the press is saying about ‘cha, maybe get some cash flowing back through your doors? And I bet you hoped I wouldn’t know who you were and would let you win some points online. Fuck you. You selfish, entitled, cunt,” Gideon paused as he turned to the side.
“I ain’t going to turn you away. It’s Thanksgiving. But if anyone catches you trying to make yourself look to be anything other than what you are I will make you disappear to a place your daddy can’t find, and then I will do the same to him,” Gideon paused as he put his arm behind Freya’s back and pushed her inside. “Am I understood.” Gideon asked as he looked back towards the door.
“Yes I…yes.” Freya quickly moved inside and away from the door.
Gideon shook his head, even if internally he was enjoying the chaos he had created. He knew his people well. No one would help her. She would get the worst portions, the least amount of sauce, and lukewarm conversation in place of a hearty and heartfelt exchange of opinions and ideas. This was going to be hell for the young socialite. Gideon smiled.
“Oh, my, god,” a voice called out from the doorway, “you’re so cruel,” Gideon turned his head and spotted Seren, “I love it.”
“And what the fuck are you doing here. Ain’t you got a thing to get to back home.” Gideon asked as he shook his head. He was far too old to deal with Seren on the best of days, and especially not this day.
“Relax,” Seren paused as she threw a quick wrist flick Gideons way, “I’m just here to film a ticktok with you and then-”
“Not gonna happen.”
“A ticktok about the dinner and then-”
“That’s not it.”
“It’ll piss off my parents ghost knowing I picked you over the family.”
“Was that so hard,” Gideon asked as he shook his head, “I swear. Your generation and getting to the fucking point.” Gideon had seen Seren come around more and more frequently recently. He knew there was a lot going on in their head, but never wanted to pry. He knew they first started coming about a month after the cataclysm took their parents, and have been a steady fixture in the bar ever since even if they were too young to drink. They never did anything weird, and seemed to actually enjoy the company of the locals. Gideon has grown a soft spot for the little person, even if they could never admit it. “Listen, it ain’t my place to say. I know that. I recognize that. But you got people who care for you,” he paused as he turned his body to let Seren in, “you can stay for an hour, then one of my guys will drive you up the mountain in one of our trucks. Understand?”
Seren simply flashed a peace sign as they walked past Gideon, pausing as they looked back. “Thank you.”
More and more people would arrive for the party. Some from the lower wards, some from the northern ones, and many more from the surrounding towns. Every single one Gideon ensured he was at the door to greet. Tonight was a night where everyone could sit back and relax, enjoy their food, and converse free of worry. As long as Gideon was here, nothing would happen.
