Said the Spider to the Fly

The repairman approached the apartment building whistling a cheerful tune.  It was a worn and weathered building, but appeared to have been maintained with at least a modicum of care.  He stopped at the base of the multi-story building and looked up, running his hand through his short brown hair, which was cut in a manner both practical and stylish.  He wore a dark leather jacket over a button-front shirt, his left breast bearing a patch proclaiming his name as “Alex,” the right bearing the logo name of his employer, Paragon Solutions.  His canvas work pants were convincingly stained, as were the heavy steel-toed work boots he wore.  In his left hand he carried a red toolbox, the paint dinged and battered, but if one paid enough attention, it didn’t rattle near as much as would be expected when he walked.

No one paid attention to Leon Arkady as he stepped into the building and walked across the main lobby.  He added a cheerful bob to his walk, changing his whistle to a hum and bobbing along with the beat.  He glanced around the room, but no one was paying any particular attention to him.  The building had once been fairly ornate, and the ground floor was designed more like the lobby of a hotel.  Now, however, age and economy had taken a toll on the place, and while not exactly run-down, it was not what one would call pleasant.  A common area with several couches and an old television against the far wall, an obnoxious pop-rock video playing as two teenage girls chatted on the couch.  The aged lights gave the place a yellow, dingy feel- as though a thin layer of grime and corruption lay over everything in the building.

Arkady didn’t pay any mind; he had been in far worse. 

He approached the elevators at the back of the room and pressed the call button, looking around absently as he waited for the elevator car to arrive.  No one had so much as given the pleasant-looking repairman a second glance.  A few seconds later, the worn old bell gave a tired-sounding ding and the doors slid open with a slight shudder.  Arkady stepped inside and let the door close behind him.  The elevator was in no better shape than the rest of the building, but at least the thing worked. 

As the door slipped into place with a creak, the grin dropped from Arkady’s face and was replaced with a look of concentration and intensity, a hard, predatory gleam shining in his eye.  He pressed the button for the 5th floor, waited a few seconds, and pressed the emergency stop button, halting the elevator between floors.  He quickly set down the toolbox, unsnapped the catch, and opened it.  Inside, rather than an assortment of wrenches, screwdrivers, and other tools, sat two items nestled in black foam.  He pulled the items from their protective casing one at a time, inspecting them.

The first was a Glock 18 machine pistol, an extended magazine already in place.  Arkady slid the magazine out, checked the function of the weapon, then slapped the magazine home and chambered a round.  Capable of emptying the 30 round magazine in under a second, the weapon was exceedingly deadly for its small size.  Arkady slipped the weapon under his jacket into a concealed holster.

The second item was a knife in an unusual-looking sheathe.  Arkady carefully slid the blade free, revealing a 6-inch double-sided cutting edge with a strange matte-black finish.  Arkady rubbed a finger across the blade carefully, opening a small cut in the pad of his thumb.  The blade left a dark residue, almost like very fine sand, in the wound and revealing a sliver of silver on the blade.  Arkady grinned and resheathed the weapon, attaching it to his belt at the small of his back.

His tools collected from his toolbox, Arkady stood and pressed the button allowing the elevator to continue its path.  The elevator shuddered back to life and trundled up the shaft, stopping with a sigh on the 5th floor.  The doors slid open and Arkady stepped into the hall.

The corridor was similar to the lobby- old, dirty as though someone never quite had the time to finish cleaning.  Here, however, everything had a stained appearance- nothing Arkady could put his finger on, but enough to make him feel unclean just standing in the entryway.  The air itself felt oily as it crawled into his lungs, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

At least he knew he was in the right place.

The floor was laid out with the hall running down to his left and right, with 3 doors on either side of the hallway- a total of 12 rooms.  At each end of the straight hallway were windows, looking down into the alleyways between the building and its neighbors.  Arkady knew the room he needed was on his left, the last room down on the right-hand side.

He headed down the hall towards his destination.  As he passed the first door, it creaked open, darkness almost seeming to pour out into the hall from inside.  He paused, and looked at the crack of gloom.  Inside, he could barely make out the shape of a little girl, no more than 6 years old.

“Hey, mister.  Who are you?” the girl whispered, her voice curious.  Arkady looked down on her.

“I’m the repairman.  I’m coming to fix things,” Arkady answered gently.  He wasn’t sure exactly how to respond- in his line of work, such things could be very important. 

The little girl’s eyes widened.  “Be careful.  Old Mrs. Crane is mean- she yells at me,” she whispered, as if telling Arkady a grave secret. “She lives across the hall- be quiet or she’ll get mad!” Arkady nodded, fighting back a smile.  Even In a place like this, children could retain their innocence- unless someone tried to take it.

And that was what Arkady was here to stop.

He reached into a pocket and pulled out a stick of gum- he had been trying to quit smoking, and carried some everywhere.  He handed it to the girl and smiled.

“Go back inside, little one.  It could get loud out here while I work, and I don’t want you getting scared.”  She took the gum after a second of hesitation, then smiled up at him and closed the door. 

Arkady straightened up and looked both ways down the hall, making sure no other doors had opened while he wasn’t looking.  Everything was still and silent.  A shiver skittered down his spine on pinpoint legs as the vague sense of filth and unease settled over him again. 

He steeled himself for a moment, then strode forward to the last door on the right- his destination.  He lifted a hand and knocked- three heavy, resounding strikes.

There was the sound of shuffling from the other side of the door, and it creaked open a few inches, stopped by a brass security chain.  A tiny old woman peered out from the room, her full height coming no higher than then middle of Arkady’s chest.  She peered out at him, suspicion filling her eyes.

“Good afternoon, ma’am.  I’m Alex- management sent me up to do a maintenance inspection for you today,” Arkady said, a cheerful smile carefully crafted to appear just blank enough to be fitting for his false persona.  He hefted the toolbox and widened his smile, as though the tools provided all the evidence in the world that he was legitimate.

“Oh, all right… come in, come in,” the old woman replied, unlocking the security chain and holding the door wide.  She frowned at him, her skin crinkling like ancient paper, and gestured impatiently for him to step inside.  “It’s almost suppertime, and I don’t appreciate your interruption, young man.”

Arkady stepped through the doorway, and she immediately closed it behind him, snapping a deadbolt into place and re-locking the security chain.  Arkady cautiously took a look around while the old woman’s back was turned- the small apartment was dimly lit, the greasy feeling in the air so strong it almost felt liquid, like breathing melted fat.  To the left was a short hall with two doors- one open, revealing a bathroom, the other closed, presumably a bedroom.  To the right, the entry immediately opened to the kitchen, grimy pots and pans sitting in the sink in a pile.  Ahead of him, Arkady saw a small living room,  television turned on to the news, a coffee table set with two plates and silverware, empty of food. 

Upon seeing the second plate, Arkady tensed.  He didn’t know where the second person was, and had not been expecting more than one in the apartment.  He hoped it didn’t complicate matters too much.  He had been given a location, not an identity- now he had to determine who he was here for.

“This outlet hasn’t worked right for ages.  Can you fix it?” The old woman led him to the living area, pointing at an outlet on the wall.  As he entered the room, he glanced at the couch, where the second person in the room sat.

The girl on the couch was bound hand and foot, a gag tied around her mouth.  Her eyes were wide with terror.  Her t-shirt proclaimed her as a pizza delivery girl for Cory’s Pizza, and was torn around the collar, as if someone had yanked her around by it.  A bruise was beginning to form across her left cheek.  Her shoes and socks had been removed, and her feet sat on the table next to an ugly, serrated knife.

Arkady turned to face the old woman, who was grinning at him with a fierce gleam in her eye.

“Wonderful, just wonderful… two for the price of one!  Today is a lucky day… I taste the power already!”  the old woman crowed, and her features bulged and tore, like a fleshy mask being pulled apart from within.

Arkady didn’t wait to see her true face.  He drew his pistol with the speed and grace of a professional dancer, moving forward as he did.  He grabbed the old woman by the neck and fired a burst from the machine pistol into her face at point-blank range.

The rounds tore into her, shredding flesh and striking bone with an audible crack.  The woman screeched, an unearthly sound, as her mask fell away in shreds.  She swung an arm up at Arkady, catching him in the chest with more strength than could possibly be contained within the frail body she presented.

Arkady flew back, rolling across the coffee table and scattering the plates and silverware.  As he rolled, he snatched up the wicked-looking knife that had been left on the table.  He landed on his back in the center of the room, looking up at the creature that had taken the old woman’s place.

She had obviously been beautiful, once- a kind of beauty not possessed by any human being, an elemental, primal kind of beauty.  Now, however, her skin was yellowed and sickly, her long dark hair matted and tangled.  She wore nothing, her figure a thing from a teenage boy’s dream, and her skin was stained by blood.  The hail of bullets appeared to have done nothing but angered her,  her human mask having absorbed the blow for her.

She was a wytch- a creature of Fey, tempted too much by the power inherent in the lifeblood of all living creatures.  She had fallen to the use of darker magics, and all that she had once been had been consumed by the horrible entities that existed in that darkness.  Now she was driven by nothing more than the desire to gather more of that same power, and use it for creating pain, misery, and death

“All right, I admit it, I lied.  I’m not the maintenance man.  But I do have a job to do here,” Arkady said as he climbed to his feet.  “Somebody wants you- and they don’t care if it’s dead or alive.  Don’t suppose you’ll come along pleasantly?”

“You are woefully unprepared for this endeavor, little boy.  It will be much simpler if you just join that delicious morsel on the couch- I give my word that I will hurt both of you no more than necessary,” the creature said, her voice heavy with desire as she undulated her body at him obscenely in a mockery of lust. 

“Not the best offer on the table,” Arkady grunted, as he moved in on the wytch with a burst of speed.  He thrust the knife low at her belly, but the creature moved more quickly than the eye could track as she wrapped both hands around his wrist.  Arkady continued his forward momentum, jamming the barrel of the pistol into the creature’s shoulder joint.  She started to twist away from him, attempting to throw Arkady with brute force, but he moved with it, keeping the barrel of his weapon in place.  He squeezed the trigger and held it down until the chamber clicked empty, rounds tearing into the beast’s grey flesh over and over.

Her arm went slack partway through her turn, half severed at the shoulder.  She continued the throw, but with the shock of the sudden damage, did little beyond send Arkady careening into the T.V. stand.  The T.V. crashed to the ground, sending up a spray of sparks.

Arkady dropped the now-empty pistol, raising the knife to a fighting position.  As he watched, tendrils of black blood snaked out of the wound in the wytch’s shoulder, pulling the ragged flesh back together slowly.  In seconds, she would be healed.

“Foul stupid mortal!  I shall tear you asunder and smear your insides across my home!  I shall bleed you and suck the power from your life!  You are nothing!” the wytch hissed at him, spittle flying from her lips.  Arkady didn’t bother to reply, his face expressionless, as he moved back towards the temporarily wounded fey, years of extensive training showing in his movements and stance. 

She swiped at him with her good arm, but he ducked it with little difficulty, despite her inhuman speed.  As he crouched low under her arm, however, she flung a vicious kick at his ribs.  Arkady managed to bring his arm down to absorb the blow, but was still thrown bodily into the wall by the force.  The knife skittered from his hand as he crashed into a beam in the wall hard enough to crack it audibly.

Arkady shook his head quickly, trying to clear the fog from his vision, and forced himself to his feet.  He knew that unarmed he stood little chance against this creature of darkeness.  The girl on the couch screamed a warning to him as best she could with her gag as the wytch moved up and stood over him.  Her arm was reattached, and she had picked up the knife he had dropped.  She leaned in close over him, breathing deeply and heavily, and grabbed his hair in one hand, pulling his head back to expose his neck.

“Little man, I shall enjoy siphoning the power from your life,” she jeered as she ran the knife blade over his cheek.  “No magic, no allies, no tricks…. How did you really think this would turn out, morsel?”

“Actually, I did have a trick,” Arkady replied calmly, focus coming to his eyes in an instant.  His strange, black-bladed knife, which he had secretly drawn while she had mocked him, slammed up into her stomach.  She gasped in agony as Arkady withdrew the knife, the blade shining silver.  She stumbled back, grabbing her stomach in disbelief.

“Iron filings.  The knife blade has a magnetic core… fairly sneaky, I thought.  Even with all that power you absorbed, you’re still Fey- and that means iron is like poison to you.”  Arkady explained calmly as he stood and examined the knife in appreciation.  The wytch stared at him, pure hatred contorting her face.  Veins of blackness were spreading through her body, stemming from the vicious wound in her guts.  She didn’t bleed, but slowly sank to the floor.  She raised her hand, palm facing Arkady, and began channeling all the power she could grab into a blast of magic that would leave him a smear of ash on the carpet.

Arkady stepped on her hand before she could unleash the spell, grinding his heel into her bones.  She looked up at him for a moment, confusion flooding her eyes as the influence of the dark power she had tapped fled her.  Then her eyes went blank, and her body began to dissolve into nothingness.

Arkady picked up his empty pistol and re-holstered it.  He sat next to the girl on the couch and pulled the gag off her face- but didn’t untie her.

“Nobody actually wanted her alive.  I just thought it might get her to drop her guard for a second… Long shot, but why not?”  He said in a conversational tone, as if he had not just fought a super-powered evil faerie. 

The girl stared at him, obviously confused.  Arkady glanced at her, and shrugged.

“I don’t have any specific orders about witnesses on this one… I guess my employer figured she wouldn’t be torturing people in her home.  So… as unprofessional as it may be, you may still be able to get out of this mess.  What’s your name, girl?”  Arkady asked, cleaning his fingernails with his knife.

“Isabella…  My name’s Isabella.  Who are you?” the girl replied, curiosity overcoming her fear.

“I think it would be better if you didn’t know any more about me.  Let’s just say I’m a problem solver for people who can pay,”  he chuckled.  “It would probably be best for you to forget everything you  saw here- after all, what are people going to say when you start telling them about the crazed faerie woman who was going to torture you to fuel her magic powers?”

“All right… I just want to go home.  Can I please go home?” Isabella pleaded, tears filling her eyes.  Arkady smiled gently, an expression that looked as though it had been absent from him for a while, and cut her bonds.

“Go home.  Be safe, and hope you never encounter anyone like me- or her- again,” Arkady murmured, and helped her to her feet.  She picked up her shoes and ran for the door without pausing to put them on.

She stopped at the door, turned back to him, and as the tears started to fall, mouthed the words thank you.  She unlocked the door and ran into the hall, presumably to go home and hide in her bed till she felt safe again.

Arkady watched her go, a thoughtful expression on his face.  He knew he would get in trouble for letting her get away- even he could sense the magic pouring off of her, and besides, witnesses were not allowed in his line of work.  But it had been a long, long time since he had gotten to save the damsel in distress, and he’d forgotten how good the feeling was.  His employers would forgive him- he was the best, after all.

He gave the apartment a once-over for any last important evidence of his presence, then pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit it, placing it on the coffee table.  Hemoved to the kitchen, turning on the old gas stove and snuffing the pilot light.  By the time the gas reached the flame, there would be enough of an explosion to eradicate the evidence of a struggle.

He walked out of the apartment into the hall, and noticed an immediate difference without the heavy, slick presence of dark magic hanging in the air.  The walls and carpet were still dirty, but no longer seemed covered in an impossible layer of grime, and the air itself felt cleaner.  He got back into the elevator and took it to the first floor, reestablishing the cheerful grin he had come in with.  The doors opened on the main floor, and stepped out.  He walked back to the street, disappearing among the nameless crowd.  He knew payment would be waiting at his normal drop point, and with luck, a new job. 

There was always work to do.