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Rated: E · Chapter · Other · #2090384
Part 4. Ow my thumb.
A knock on the door rouses me from my sleep, causing me to blind myself from the sunlight pouring through the windows. For a moment, I have no idea where I am, this isn’t my bed, and the ceiling is about as familiar to me as the surface of Mars is.

The knocking on my door turns to pounding which sends waves of pain through my head, I look over towards my nightstand, and at the bottles of alcohol that littered the area around it, I must have asked Kazu to bring an entire 12 pack for some reason. Slowly rising from bed I glance at the clock, it’s 6:30 in the morning, too early. My tablet beeps, reminding me that someone wanted to talk to me.

Owl: Hey, I know you chugged a 12 pack of beer with Kaz and all, but seriously you're going to be late.

That's weird, what would I be late for? I thought to myself, and why did Owl of all people, message me, after I hurt his precious door?

Owl: Come on, hurry the fuck up, we’ve got security detail and I don't want to miss breakfast.

Security detail? In a place like this? Why would we ever be threatened.

Owl: Don't make me break the door down. I wouldn't want to see something I shouldn't.

I bolt straight up, nearly screaming, “WAIT, Jesus Christ gimme a second!”

I rush around picking up things that look like they should match. And after what could have been at least 30 seconds, I answer the door.

What stands before me is the tallest, thinnest palest person I have ever seen. He eyes me up and down, as if taking in the gloriousness of a speed awakening.

“Your fly’s undone,” he said quickly turning away, “just go down and get some food when you feel like not dressing like a moron.”

I look down my cheeks turning a bright and vibrant red, in fact my fly was unzipped. Good job Matt, I thought, first impressions are everything and you just bombed one. Sighing I turn back around and look at the state of my room, it was a mess, clothes strewn about and bottles in various places, I guess drunk me decided to play with future sober me.

A few minutes later I’m out in the main hall making my way down to the dining hall when I’m tackled by someone at full force.

“Ow, that hurt,” I say, getting up off the floor, "it's not college football alright?"

But all I hear is a quickly diminishing “sorry” as the figure that ran me over disappeared into the distance. I look down at where I presumed he fell, a solitary syringe lay on the floor. What was he? The estate’s Doctor? I thought to myself. Brushing off my jeans I head inside the dining hall, Spencer greets me with a plate of food and a, “you look terrible, want a coffee?”

I notice Zephyr approach me after a few short minutes.

“Jesus you’re slow,” he said, sitting down in a chair next to mine, “come by my room later on, I’ll get you the stuff that you need for this role.”

And with that he got up and left. It was at this moment that I realized that getting simple things like goodbyes and hellos would also in the end be an act of futility. I sighed into my coffee, and I was doomed to work with the guy for as long as I stayed here? I look up again and this time Kazu is sitting in front of me. In a butler’s suit.

“Why the change of attire?” I asked, eyeing his suit up and down, “also, nice threads.”

“Thanks Matt-kun,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee, his face contorting, “ew, coffee, and it’s not even iced?”

I laugh at his mistake and tell him I have security detail to which he frowns and asks, “wouldn't you rather be a combat butler?”

“Combat butler?” I respond, racking my brains and trying to figure out what a combat butler could possibly be.

“Yeah, combat butler,” he said, taking yet another sip of his coffee and then proceeding to literally do a facepalm at his own stupidity, “gah I’m such a baka.”

I look at my watch, my shift was about to start, I leave with a simple goodbye and head back to Owl's room.

“Come in,” said the voice behind the door.

I open the door and am greeted with something I hadn't expected, the room was full of plastic models.

“I guess someone has a hobby,” I said, looking at the various cars, tanks, ships, and planes that took up at least 50 percent of the room.

“Oh you think this is bad? Well we’ll take a look at my baby after we’re done”

“Your baby?” I asked, giving him a questioning look.

“You’ll see,” he said picking up a remote and clicking it, making a wall slide down and a wall of guns to pop out, “what would you like?”

I stare at the wall in astonishment, rows and rows of guns, enough to fulfill any Call of Duty kid’s dreams.

“Do you have a Five-SeveN?” I ask giddiness evident from the way I was speaking.

Zephyr pulls a gun off the middle rack, and throws it to me.

Sure enough it’s a Five-SeveN.

Zephyr turns to me, “wait outside, I need to get some things.”
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