Echo, Chapter V Shade

SHADE

         “This is a big favor you ask of me.”
         “I’m not asking you for a favor.  This is an order, Argent.  You will annihilate the threat against your King.”
         Argent smiled gently and lit his third cigarette.  “I have no King.  I have no country, no alliances.  I work by favors only.”  He puffed on his cigarette and smiled again.  “This is how I remain so peaceful.  Maybe you should try the same, Damascus.  Cig?”
         “Absolutely not.”
         Argent shrugged.  “I don’t see why you’re so damn paranoid, Damascus.  You’re already dead.”
         “There is such a thing as...don’t change the subject.  The King needs you-“
         ”First of all, you don’t sound too threatening when you say that he ‘needs’ me.  Second of all,” Argent took another pull on his cigarette, “he’s not the King yet.  He’s nothing anymore.  Neither his power nor yours can harm me.  I know the ways.” He finished his cigarette and fished out another one from his denim jacket.  “I spent too much time in America, hell I am an American, so I know all about Satan’s crap-“
         ”Do not call him that name!”
         “Jesus, okay, relax.”  At that name, Damascus flinched so far back into his seat that Argent thought he would slip into the cracks in the stone.
         Okay, he didn’t actually think that, but he did think that it sounded poetic...
         “Tell you what,” Argent said. “I’ll do this...job for you.  But you owe me.”
         “I owe you nothing.”
         “And I owe you nothing.  So far we’re even.  I plan on keeping it this way.”  Puff, puff.  “One way or the other, we must maintain the balance.”  Argent dropped the cigarette and crushed it with his heel.  “Maintaining the balance is about the only the thing that your boss seems to get right anymore.”  Argent lit another cigarette.  “Even if he doesn’t really do it on purpose.”
         “I don’t appreciate you mocking me or my-“
         ”I doubt you appreciate anything anymore, Damascus, but do try to relax...I never said I wasn’t going to do it.”
         “Ah...well, perhaps you’ll need a weapon...”
         “No thanks.  I have my own arsenal.”  Argent opened up his leather raincoat to reveal a greasy katana sheath.  “Never trust another’s weapon, Damascus.  Never trust anyone who appears to be...helpful.”
         “That makes no sense.”
         “Yeah, well, not all Americans are good at one-liners.  Peace out.”  Argent threw his cigarette stub at Damascus’s feet and turned away.  As he was walking out the door he casually called out, “Don’t let old Luke catch you in his favorite chair.” 
         Argent leaves.
         “Daft bastard.  I hope they all kill each other.”
         “Now Damascus, that’s not very polite.”
         “Ahh!!”
         Sigh.  “What is it, Damascus?”
         “Oh, sorry sir, I just-“
         ”What was Argent doing here?”
         “He’s our assassin, sir?”
         “We have our own assassin?  Really?”
         “Yes, sir.  That’s Argent, sir.”
         “And you expect him to be able to defeat Melchior’s prophecy child?”
         “...Yes?”
         “Oh, Damascus...this may prove to be quite entertaining after all...”
         “Sir?”
         “Never-mind, Damascus.  I might actually enjoy today...How old is the boy now?”
         “He’s twenty-three, sir.”
         “Making the year?”
         “Twenty-hundred, Fifty-two.  It’s a Tuesday.”
         “Blast!”
         “Sir?”
         “Remind me, Damascus, I have Parcheesi at Alistair’s house tonight at eight.”
         “Very good, sir.”
         Click.


         “Damascus?”
         “Yes, sir?”
         “Get out of my chair.”
         Click. Click.