God, thought the Demon. This is an unnecessary number of stairs. Maybe I should have stayed on the ground floor and just… thrown a brick or something.
Alkahest, heavy case in one hand, reached the top of the bell tower of… it was a church, wasn’t it? A parish church. He was new enough to sentience – just about a year – that concepts like ‘buildings having names based on their function’ was still a bit confusing. Before then he’d just been a patch of shadow trying to kill things that wandered into it.
He was in a place called Stockport, which was in a place called Greater Manchester, which was in a place called England. England was in – wait, no, on a place called Earth, only there were literally thousands of other places called Earth. This was the Earth in the middle, though, so it was called the Fulcrum Earth.
Alkahest shook his head and opened his case. He’d had long enough to get his breath back. As he assembled the rifle, he wondered to himself what Panacea might do in his situation.
‘She’d already be on her way home,’ he said. ‘But! I am professional. I don’t need to make messy displays as long as I get the job done. And I certainly don’t need to kill every single human in a factory just to make sure I get who I came for.’
He looked through the rifle scope to the door of the factory below. His target and her entourage would be exiting soon. It was a fair distance, but there wasn’t much wind, and Alkahest had steady hands.
He just had to wait.
Just be patient.
Just wait.
There came a grumble from Alkahest’s stomach.
‘I am professional,’ said Alkahest again. ‘I get the job done. I’m also a Demon who doesn’t need to eat, and I would certainly never think of stepping away from my position to go and get some fries and gravy or something. Ground yourself in the moment. Focus on where you are.’
His stomach rumbled once again.
‘Because… they call them “chips” here, not fries, you know?’ He put down the rifle and got to his feet. ‘Okay, it’s… it’s fine, we just take a couple minutes to get somethin’ to eat, and we come straight back. If anything, waiting is making it worse.’
He practically flew down the stairs.
⁂
The “chips” were pretty good. They were just steak fries but with gravy on. He’d heard about something called “poutine” that you could get in Canada, which was the same thing but with cheese curds? That was definitely going on his list.
‘Can’t believe there was a time I didn’t have tastebuds,’ he said, wiping the last of the gravy from the polystyrene tray with a finger.
He went completely still when he’d popped it in his mouth.
The gravy, the fries… tasted big, somehow. It was almost like… the taste of a meal in a fancy restaurant when you know your partner is about to propose. Or, when you take a big gulp of wine and your nemesis tells you it’s been poisoned.
Alkahest got back to walking, but had stuck his tongue out in shock and disgust. He couldn’t get the taste of significance out of his mouth. Maybe he needed a drink? His pace quickened.
He needed to get back up–
The door of the church was ajar.
‘Oh, no,’ said Alkahest.
He dashed inside. The pews were the same dull brown, the stained glass windows still looked like shit, the stairway that led to the bell was still intact; nothing had changed.
Why did he have this taste of consequences in his mouth?
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
Someone was coming down the stairs. Alkahest closed his mouth and listened – slow steps, deliberate. One person. If it was just one person, Alkahest could probably take them.
Then again, if they were coming from the bell tower then they’d have found the rifle. Alkahest wasn’t so powerful a Demon that guns didn’t affect him, so the rifle could cause him some trouble if they brought it down with them. Most people, upon finding a loaded rifle on the ground, probably wouldn’t just leave it there.
Whoever it was, they sure were walking slow. He was going to miss the window for his target, at this rate.
Wait, was that the point?
‘Oh, no,’ he said again, as a man emerged from the stairwell.
He looked to be about a head taller than Alkahest was, in that lean, lanky sort of way. His eyes were covered by a pair of dark glasses, transition lenses, if Alkahest had to guess. One hand was in a pocket of his grey suit, and one held the scope from Alkahest’s rifle.
‘Azoth Alkahest,’ said the man. ‘My name is Anasios Kojak, with the Caliber Institute. I’m here to prevent you from assassinating the Prime Minister. The building is surrounded. I hope you enjoyed your chips.’
‘They were real nice,’ grinned Alkahest. ‘Hey, if I hadn’t gone for a snack you woulda snuck up behind me, huh? Funny, that.’
‘Hilarious. Are you going to leave quietly, or do you need to be persuaded?’
The door slammed shut behind Alkahest. So there really were more Caliber goons. Great.
‘How about instead,’ said Alkahest, retrieving a hand grenade from within his white leather jacket, ‘You give me back that scope and we head upstairs together? I’ll just blow Thatcher’s head off real quick, and after that we can do whatever. I’ll buy you a beer.’
Kojak adjusted his glasses, face totally impassive and inches away from Alkahest now. How had he moved so–
The grenade fell to the ground before Alkahest had chance to pull the pin, Kojak twisting him in a painful arm lock.
‘You are a Demon, Alkahest,’ Kojak hissed in his ear. ‘Even if you were born into it, you are a member of the Inside Accords. We do not interfere with the mundane.’
‘So what, you gonna ship me off to the gulag for deposing a tyrant?!’
‘She was democratically elected, you ignoramus. It isn’t like your Infernal Kings. Speaking of whom, what do you think they would do were they to hear about your little assassination attempt?’
‘They ain’t exactly my biggest fans regardless,’ said Alkahest, voice strained. ‘But I like to think they’d be a little scared they’re next, you know?’
‘Ridiculous. As if a pup like could even get close. And even if you did, the Institute would swoop down and you’d never see daylight again.’
Alkahest’s mouth opened wider, and the shadows inside it fully overtook his body. They billowed out of Kojak’s grip and bloomed up under a church pew, lifting it and throwing it right at him.
Kojak’s hand flashed, a knife appearing in it. He simply held it upright before him and the pew parted around its edge as if it were a tiny, razor-sharp Moses. Alkahest, in his shadow-form, took the opportunity to make a break for it, but Kojak was far too fast – a hand shot out and gripped him by the throat, shadows condensing into something much more humanoid again.
The Demon was thrown across the room, slamming into a stone column with an audible crunch. Alkahest coughed up blood. He’d never had blood before. It didn’t taste too important.
‘By all rights, I should end you now,’ said Kojak, standing over where Alkahest had slumped down to the floor. ‘Remove you as a threat before you get the chance to really become one.’
He seemed to be talking more to himself than to Alkahest. ‘However,’ he continued. ‘I’d prefer to live my life assuming people can change for the better. So I’m going to let you go.’
Alkahest spat bravado at his feet. ‘…You’ll come to regret that.’
‘Maybe,’ agreed Kojak. ‘But I’ll sleep tonight. Let’s compromise.’
His boot came down on Alkahest’s ribs.
Roll History 