Enthusiasm Over Authority

Enthusiasm Over Authority
 

Tuesday, 15th September


Thunder rumbled in the distance as the jingle of the 8am news playing on the radio went unnoticed past the boil of a kettle. Among the wooden crates and old furniture stacked upon itself, three people occupied their 12x18 foot workplace which was a box office overlooking an old factory. Disregarding the horrible weather threatening the city past the tall windows at the far end of the room, a tall redhead listened to the incessant bickering of her two colleagues as she waited to brew her morning fix. The back and forth of questions and complaints had been going on for the past hour or so now, and there was no sign of it letting up any time soon.

Throwing his arms up, the stout man at the end of the cluttered makeshift office ran his hand over a mop of thick, ashy hair. Filled with frustration, the apparent authoritarian collapsed within himself with his umpteenth huff that morning. Closing tired lids over pale blue irises at the notion, the Londoner turned his nose up. “How many times do I have to say no?”

A full figured blonde sparked the end of her vice. Sat at one of the mismatched wooden chairs tucked under the long table big enough to fit eight, the woman leaned back. “Until it turns into a yes.” Balancing dangerously on the back legs of her chair, the fair female croaked. Voice resonating with her low, husky Northern English tone, she peered to the left, and to the man in front of the tall window. “I’ve fought Ogres, Werewolves, and Poltergeist; how is this any different?”

Scrunching his features, the shortest flapped his arms in exasperation, as if it should already be clear. “Just because they’re called Fairies, doesn’t mean they’re mythical, and light, and sparkly.” A low rumble carried through the air, shortly followed by sheets of white flashes splitting the slate sky.

“Isn’t everything we deal with mythical?” A heavy Southern American drawl came from the minuscule kitchen space by the door to the blonde’s right. "Apparently, anyway."

Glare shooting to the Amazonian woman brewing her morning dose of breakfast tea, the eldest bit his tongue from calling her out right then and there. Reigning himself in, he tried to plead to the blonde with textbooks as his evidence. Staggering across the cluttered space, he shoved a thick book in her face, urging her to take notice.

Recoiling with a grimace from the stench of the yellow tinged parchment, the blonde threw her head back in defense. Choking on the stale whiff she got from the artifact, she jabbed her cigarette towards the crinkled pages in threat. Shooing her hands and returning all four legs of her seat to the scuffed floorboards with a hefty thump, the woman frowned. “That fuckin’ stinks. Get it awa-”

Regardless of worrying for the antique, he smacked the woman with the open centre and gurgled. “Alex, look at those pictures.” He shoved the illustrations right into her face, until the pages hit her nose accidentally. “Those are real fairies.”

Swatting the book, and the pest, she spat in a flustered tizz. “I can’ fuckin’ see anything when it’s that close.” Turning away, her 14th century perch hitched over a chip on the floor well in need of a varnish.

At his wits end, the blond male skulked back to his desk at the far end of the room in despair. Peeking up with a pitiful expression, the man held out for his last line of defense. “Domino, please tell her.”

Turning around with a fine China cup filled with the best tea that side of the Atlantic, the towering redhead grumbled at being put on the spot. Glancing between her employer and her best friend, the woman carefully rested her drink on the cluttered table. “Jules...”

Past impatient over forty minutes ago, the only male nipped at the air with each word. “Just say it already.”

Giving him a warning glance, Domino already knew that he wasn’t going to like the answer he’d begged for. “If it brings in more than a grand, I’ll take on a starved Vampire.” Giving a small, apologetic shrug, she sat at the head of the table with her back to the window which overlooked the converted factory-turned-antique storage space below.

Closing his eyes in a temper, Julian turned his nose up and threw his book down on his desk, causing a stack of other texts to fall off the side. “How did I get stuck with a pair like you?” Flicking a stack of papers aside with the top of his nails, the ashen man threw a tantrum as if he was a toddler who just had its favourite toy taken away. “You’re both suicidal.”

Domino glanced to her friend, making sure she knew it was her fault that the man was pissy before taking a sip of her prized tea. Savouring the flavour, the tallest shook her head.

Getting the simple hint from her friend, the blonde heaved in a breath. “Jules...”

“No.” The addressed huffed instantly with his back to the pair, cerulean irises fixed on the grey-scale scene of the dilapidated urban town through the balcony doors he was stood in front of. “No, I refuse to be-

“Julian, we’re going to do this whether you like it or not.” Rooting through the manilla folders and loose sheets of paper in front of her, Alex rummaged for an ashtray. Easing up out of her seat a little and leaning over, she carelessly pushed the scraps aside. “You can either let us die, or you can tell us how to kill the fuckers,” her voice strained with the final few words as she flopped onto her stomach to reach the item she was after.

Spinning around, and knocking everything around him over in the process, the man threw his arms up with a shriek. “You can’t kill a fairy!” Pale eyes surrounded by dark circles were on the verge of popping out of the skull they belonged to.

“I’m presuming figuratively,” the blonde confirmed as she dropped her rear back into the insanely expensive piece of furniture with a grunt.

Palms sweating at the mere thought of the woman’s idea, Julian spun off into a tangent. Shoulders raised up like and angry cat and neck veins visible in vexation, the stout man’s vocal pitch pushed out several notches higher than usual. “Never mind breaking a mirror, killing a Fairy is the worst luck of all.”

Both women glanced up to him in unison whilst wearing the same expression of subtle disbelief before they went back to giving in to their own vices. “You say to the person whom the universe bestows cataclysmic bad luck upon daily.” Alex began rummaging through her surroundings again, this time with Domino holding her cup up as if her friend wasn’t behaving like the March Hare.

Recoiling with a sudden stoic expression of thought, the mousy blonde held his chin up in thought. “Will really make a difference?” Wondering out loud, the brains of the outfit thought about the unorthodox way things already were. “Really, would it change something?” As if struck by an epiphany, the man spun around with an odd look on his face. It was the kind of look where everyone involved were unsure of if the preceding remark was a question or statement, including the man himself.

Unwrapping a lollipop she had taken from the dish on top of a stack of books across from her, the redhead blocked out the fantastical pirouetting. Clearing her throat with two quick coughs, the honey sopped tone floated towards the female sat two seats down from her. Voice lowering as her elbows rested on the very edge of the platform, the taller woman spare a second-long peek to her companion. “If this is as dangerous as he says this is - which it always is - please don’t die.”

Scoffing out the smoke of her vice, the blonde hovered her hand over the brief empty space between them. “No matter if I had to go up against the fabled Hell Hounds, or even a fucking God, we can’t afford to pass up anything over a grand.”

Pulling the lolly from her mouth, the redhead frowned. “Don’t pull us into suicide jobs.”

“If I thought there was any chance of you getting hurt, I wouldn’t bring you along.”

“Oh, that really fills me with confidence.”

“I already told you before,” Flicking her ash with more force than necessary, the blonde’s features scrunched up. “I would never let anything like that near you again.”

“I kn-”

“I would die before that.” She stared the woman in the eye and her frame tensed. “I mean it, R-” Pulling her senses to her forefront, the blonde corrected herself before any of her past mistakes could be repeated. “Dom, the moment you stop trusting me, we’re all screwed, and I’m good as dead.” Forcing a lopsided smile, the older woman cocked her head to the right quickly and then faced away as to make a point that was the end of that conversation.

Making a noise anyone else would confuse for a brush-off, the redhead went back to sucking her lollipop.

“When’s the deadline?” The blonde called out to the back of the man still having a spasm.

Hot palms gripping the window sill slick with the condensation brought about by the difference in heat on either side of the pane, Julian tried to stick out the situation. He hoped the women would change their minds. He knew it was never going to happen, but he wished all the same. Silently praying to any God who may be listening, he asked for something to change their minds.

“Jules, ya’know if you don’t tell us, we’ll go anyway...”

Spluttering upon the remark, he came to realize that his mental pleading was futile. And that if there were such things as actual Gods, then they must be stubborn pricks too.

Dropping down into a crouching position, Julian snatched up the book he had been brandishing earlier. Shooting up just as quickly, he threw the slab on the long table in between the pair. “You’re a horrible bunch.”

Flicking to where the tasselled bookmark was dangling from, the redhead turned the item around so she could fathom the words. “Latin,” A groan of contempt rumbled past rouged lips when she realized it wasn’t just her dyslexia messing with her. Sticking her tongue out to wet her lips, the younger woman began reading the beginning of the coded passage. “Faeyries are hostile and aggressive towards outsides. They feed on emotions, and depending on their lineage and inclination, they can use...” Domino stopped to stare at the man with his arms folded across his head and nodding in an ‘I told you so’ fashion. “…illusionary traps before poisoning their prey, or worse, taking them to their native realm and feasting on them for decades...” Growling, the taller woman smacked the bulk of the book to her left. “What the Hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Fairies have been known to take non-Fairy hostages for slaves, possess Earth-world beings - humans, and even hypnotize us with little more than a touch.” Barely holding back from smiling triumphantly upon seeing the redhead’s look of horror, Julian held his nose in the air. “They’re very territorial, and usually kill by placing their foes in a dream like state which leads to starvation, but they also have venomous bites.”

Hacking a bitter chuckle, Domino drummed her crimson nails on the itchy page. Wobbling her head madly, she rolled her eyes while sarcasm cooed. “That’s so charming. It makes me wonder why I’ve never built a fairy garden for them.”

Lounging, Alex contorted her arms over the top of the backrest behind her. “Aside the fact you don’t have any form of garden?” The blonde interjected flatly as she stared up at the high ceiling covered with peeling ecru paint.

Continuing reading the passage in ignorance to her friend’s sass, Domino came across something of interest among the history. “Despite their love for fresh dairy cream, Faeyries become drunk from it.” Smile tugging at her lips, the redhead glanced up and tapped the paragraph with her nail. “Along with that, recently harvested grains have to pick up one by one before they can cause any trouble.”

“Snap.” Stating her borrowed word from the card game, Alex shot a grin to the eldest. Standing up whilst stretching her arms above her head, her large breasts almost spilling from the front and sides of the muscle tee two sizes too big, the woman glanced to the tattered watch on her right wrist.

Regardless of being right handed, she had always kept that same time keeper on her right hand. She knew it was supposed to be on her other side, but that didn't matter in her situation. Worried for the leather strapped memory, she kept it out of unprovoked danger. “It’s 8:30 now. We’ll be back before noon.” Shoving her cigarettes and lighter in her left pocket, she made for the door without waiting for another topic to be brought up.

“And if not?” Julian called out to the pair of backs heading for the door.

Standing behind the redhead, Alex peered back with a dark grin. “Call the cavalry.”

Sweat racing down his forehead, the blond’s stomach twisted. “We don’t have any back up...” The sound of the pair jumping off the second to last step in unison out of habit left a bad feeling scratching at his gut.
 

Updated: 10th January 2017 - 15:42