Weekly Drabble #273: Night Walker (Patreon)

This week's prompt is from Accipiter_Ater with 'when monsters flee'. This story went through several revisions, from something in Shadow of Illinois, to Heresy and Hope, to a continuation of the TLA story with the twins, eventually to this. Hope you all enjoy!

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Night walker:

Tuyet Prinsly had been taught that from a very young age that monsters came in all shapes and sizes, but they were always human. There were no real monsters out there, but the ones that did were just ordinary men and women. That’s why she’d become a reporter. To pull the masks off and show the world the monsters among them. It wasn’t working out so well today. Today, the monsters had gotten to her first.

“If I recall,” Erica said to Tuyet as the younger woman was slammed against the rough concrete wall of an abandoned warehouse in the wrong side of town. “You were warned to stop poking around, weren’t you?”

The tall brunette was leaning against the wall, pretending to examine her nails as one of her companions kept Tuyet pinned in place. “Weren’t you?” she repeated.

“I don’t recall,” Tuyet snapped. Blood was dribbling down her split lip. Erica Applesby was a fixer. She didn’t have any set allegiance beyond her paycheque, but her presence here was a very bad sign. She didn’t much care for getting her hands dirty herself, but word on the street was that she liked to watch other people get their hands dirty. That she was here meant one of two things: this was the last warning Tuyet was ever going to get, or she wouldn’t be walking out of this alley alive. “Did Leon send you?”

The older woman tut-tutted, waging her finger. “Client confidentially, darling.” She tapped her chin. “So what do you think should happen to a nosy little chink?”

“Wrong slur,” Tuyet told her. She was trying to be brave, but inside she was terrified. She never thought this could happen. “I’m half-Vietnamese, not Chinese.”

“Close enough,” one of the hired muscle grunted. He was big, black and bald and from what she’d heard from, him already, he was probably an ex-athlete. A boxer or football player. Probably injured before he made it big and now he did this. “Y’all look alike anyways.”

The second man stayed a little bit back. He was Latino, thinner than the athlete and kept his collar up. Probably to hide gang tattoos. Maybe a freelancer looking to pick up some extra cash or someone who’d called it quits with his old group and went out on his own. The third man, the one holding her head to the wall, with his other on her back and one of his legs planted between hers to make sure she couldn’t wriggle out of the hold, was the one that worried her the most. His head was clean-shaven, likely to hide hair loss. He’d talked the least, staying silent when the athlete and ganger had to offer comments of their own. Along with Erica, he was the professional of the group. Several times he’d taken action without Erica having to say a word; they’d worked together for some time. He wasn’t cruel or enjoying having a woman at his mercy like his fellow muscleheads were. She was just a job to him and one he intended to take care of as efficiently as possible.

Tuyet wasn’t sure how any of those observations helped her right now, but it was strange the things your mind latched on to at moments like these. She probably was going to die here. The only question was how long it would take. She hoped the professional got a say. He’d just straight up kill her. From the way the athlete and the ganger had been looking at her – and from the latter’s thorough pat-down – she didn’t think she’d be so lucky with either of them. The deciding factor was Erica. Rather, Erica’s employer.

Rumour was that while Applesby might enjoy a show, she wasn’t sadistic. She wouldn’t prolong things if she didn’t have to. She cleaned up messes, not made new ones. If the client just wanted Tuyet scared, they’d rough her up. If the client wanted her dead... well, then it came down to whether they just wanted an annoying bug stepped on, or if she’d irritated them enough to get her wings pulled off first.

From the way Erica was talking, the reporter was plenty scared already, but inside she knew she wouldn’t back down. Maybe... maybe she just had to convince Erica she would. Maybe that was her having a cunning plan and not terror at the thought of what they might do to her sinking in and eroding her resolve. The first sounded a lot braver. “What do you want?” she tried again.

“Tuyet, darling – we’ve been over this. Your little crusade was apparently cute at first, but it’s lost its charm. You’ve annoyed someone a lot more than you think.”

“Look, we can work something out. Just get Snyder on the phone. You don’t even have to let me hear him, just call him up and ask-”

“Darling,” Erica said, picking a sweat-slick forelock of black hair out of Tuyet’s face and tucking it behind her ear. “No. But I will give you this. Snyder’s not involved. In fact, Western Petrol’s plan is to litigate your little story to death and face it – your paper doesn’t have the money to fight it. That story’s dead, honey. Snyder didn’t so much as call to confirm my rates.”

“I...” Tuyet gaped in shock. The illegal dumping and deliberate ignoring of safety practices would have cost WP millions and she’d gotten threats on a weekly basis, veiled, legal and otherwise. It had been her biggest story and the one she’d been spending most of her time on. This wasn’t about that? “What was what it?” she pleaded, knowing now that she really was going to die. “What was the story? Who hired you?”

“Sorry,” Erica said, pulling back. “Client confidentiality.” She looked over her muscle, then pointed to the ganger. “You.” The professional stepped back, trading places with the other man. He held Tuyet tighter than the professional, but he wasn’t as cautious. Maybe she could...

...die when one of the other two grabbed her.

“Remember,” Erica told him as she stepped back. “It was a mugging gone wrong.”

“I got you,” the ganger muttered. They’d already taken her phone and her wallet when they’d searched her, but the ganger ‘double-checked’, his free hand slithering over her. He was wearing gloves. They’d thought of everything. “Quick n’dirty.”

He sunk his fingers into Tuyet’s hair and pulled her head back. “Please,” she tried one final time. “Please don’t, we can-”

“Sorry mamacita. Boss Lady has spoken. You pissed off some high roller really good and it’s time to pay the piper. Hmm,” he murmured as he sniffed her, the smell of the woman’s sweat mixed with her perfume. “We could’a had some fun, but work is work.” He drew back, ready to slam the young woman’s head into the wall and splatter her brains across it.

“Hey,” a voice piped up from the end of the alley. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing,” Erica was quick to answer. “Just helping a friend who’s had a little too much to drink.”

Before Tuyet could scream for help, the ganger stuck his fingers in her mouth, making her gag. As she bent over, he held onto her. “That’s right,” he said, his tone shifting to soothing. “Just get it out. Maybe next time you’ll take my advice and lay off the tequila.” His other hand was pressing in on her diaphragm, keeping her from taking in enough breath to call out.

“It doesn’t look like that. It looks like you’re going to kill that girl.”

“Then why don’t you fuck off, bitch,” the athlete sneered over his shoulder as he turned his head towards the newcomer. “Unless you want some of-” The rest of his words died in his throat.

Standing at the mouth of the street was a young woman. She looked like a stereotype. Thin but toned, she was a platinum blonde, her hair done up in girlish pigtails. She was wearing a tube top that seemed to be doing its desperate best to hold itself together over her sizable endowments. Her toned midriff was bare and she was wearing skin-tight booty shorts, finishing the ensemble with roller blades. As she stared back at the group, she blew a bubble of gum.

It popped and she licked the gum back into her mouth. “Ooh, that’s a question,” she asked, skating towards the group. “What is you think I might want, Thompson?”

“I-”

She leaned to one side, so far over that her head was almost upside down and her pigtails were almost brushing the filthy alley floor. “Did you forget whose streets these were?”

“I... thought we’d be quick.”

The girl tsked, coming a little closer. The athlete actually backed up, putting more space between himself and her. “I told you,” she said, utterly unconcerned about the situation she’d walked into. “No one hunts here. Not in my territory.”

“Thompson,” Erica said, glancing from the newcomer to the athlete, to her partner. The latter was at a loss for words as she was, but neither of them offered any indignant or hostile comments about the interruption. Reading the room, Tuyet thought. Even a few seconds from having her head dashed against the concrete, she could feel a new and deeper chill in the air. Applesby wasn’t a stupid woman. She had to feel it too, and she had to know there was a reason a man more than three times the girl’s size was giving ground like a rabid pit bull had just stepped into the alley. “Who is this?”

“Oh! I forgot to introduce myself. Some of the people around here like to call me Stacey. They also call me ‘Baby’, ‘Sweet Momma’, ‘Nice Ass’ and sometimes...” her smile widened farther than it should. “Well, we don’t need to get into that. But the long and short of it is, well, this is my territory.”

“Your territory.” Erica said skeptically.

“Mm-hmm. And I have this thing, see. A little rule. No one hunts here but me. No one. Thompson here,” she reached over and squeezed his cheek like an infant. The big man didn’t move, scarcely breathing. He was petrified like a rabbit catching sight of a snake. “Should have told you that, but I guueeesss he must have forgot because if he didn’t, if he thought he could be sneaky and point out a good spot to drop a body well, then...” she glanced back at Erica. Thompson’s expression was pained as Stacey dug her nails into his skin, the big man’s blood running down her arm. “I wouldn’t be forgiving. But since you did forget,” she let go of Thompson’s face. He sagged back with a gasp, putting one hand on his cheek.

Tuyet’s eyes widened. Stacey’s palm was soaked with blood. That was way more than a scratch.

“We can call this a learning experience and you can all go on your way,” The pig-tailed girl said. Tuyet inhaled sharply as Stacey lifted her bloody hand to her mouth and began to lick it clean. “What do you say?”

“This is such bullshit!” the man holding Tuyet finally snarled. “What...what is this? Some kind of fucking prank? Y’all acting like she’s... she’s...”

“Roddy,” Erica said, raising a finger in warning. “Shut the fuck up now.”

Stacey licked her lips clean, an amused smile on them. “You understand.”

“What are you talking about?” Roddy demanded. “Understand what-”

“I told you to shut the fuck up,” Erica interrupted. “The next time you open that mouth it will be your last.”

The severity of the threat and the calm way in which it was delivered made the ganger close his jaw with a click. Erica was staring at Stacey, looking the girl up and down, the muscles in her face twitching as she considered the unarmed, yet strangely confident young woman. Stacey stood with her hands behind her back, a coy smile on her face as Applesby studied her.

Little by little, the colour drained from Erica’s face as she did. She looked over at the professional. His features were strained and gave her a small nod. “Let Prinsly go,” she ordered.

Roddy was about to object, but Erica’s head snapped towards him and the professional’s hand dropped slightly, ready to go for the weapon inside his coat. The ganger complied and let go of Tuyet, giving her a shove towards the wall.

“Lucky you, sweetie,” Erica said to Tuyet. “You get a reprieve. Consider this your last warning. Stop poking into things that don’t concern you and we won’t have to meet again. Next time we do, it won’t be in someth- someone else’s territory.” She nodded to Stacey and stalked out of the alleyway, the professional behind her, each of them with a quickness to their stride.

Roddy was next. The athlete moved to follow, but: “Thompson.”

He froze as Stacey glanced at him. “This was your last warning,” she told him, aping his employer’s words to Tuyet. He swallowed, nodded and all but ran to join the rest of the group of psychopaths.

Once she’d recovered her breath, Tuyet picked herself up, bracing herself against the wall. Stacey was still there, looking at her. The girl was standing a few meters away, her head canted to one side. There was absolutely nothing threatening about her expression, physique or posture and yet Tuyet felt as frightened as she had when Erica and her goons had first grabbed her. “What was that?” she demanded, trying to stand straight while simultaneously wanting to make herself seem as small and invisible as posture. “Who are you?”

Stacey only smiled, blowing another bubble with her gum. “You should be getting home,” she told the girl. “The city’s not safe at night.”

“Yeah,” the reporter said. “I noticed.”

Stacey nodded. “You should be careful. That one won’t give up as easily as she said. Besides,” she turned her back on the reporter and lazily skated away. “There are a lot more monsters out there than you think.”