Oddly, the woman whom I am write of now was one of which I did not think to investigate at the time, and some after, of the Black Monday, as it seemed to me she was another rich girl in a rich world. However, as pieces of the puzzle started to fit together, I began to question whether or not such a woman was as normal as I previously thought. Even odder yet, the words which follow were not a result of mine own witnessing, no, but rather one of the strangest, yet most comfortable and fascinating, meetings I have ever been a part of with the very woman herself. And she spoke about her story to me; a tragic one, at that…
A dreary city, yes, but a beautiful city at that. The soft repetition of raindrops in close to one-eighth, no, one-sixteenth notes. But their touch mattered not at this moment. A glass of liquid somnambulance in hand, gently being swirled by a pale hand which was accompanied by a melancholic feeling of admiration. Oh, how profound the buildings look at this hour, the dim series of illuminations lighting their way across streets, sidewalks, bedrooms, living rooms. From this balcony, one could gaze upon the splendor of the city with all-seeing eyes, and an all-loving heart.
How prestigious a view indeed.
And yet, it gave not the gift of awe as it did so many crescent-moons ago. It was the same view that was seen every night, without cease, without fault. As such, it had lost its charm, its appeal. Surely, each of those little lights in those buildings housed a someone whom found themselves less fortunate, and that is an obvious reason to be gracious.
However, those little lights held a shining hope within their walls, a shining hope that had been far extinguished from the glimmering hotel she resided in. The Achroous Hotel was the exemplary beacon of wealth and high-living amongst the City; everyone knew that. And its family owners were evermore the rich type, but they were never the snobbish ones, no, but were more known for their warmhearted, hosting nature as equally much as their philanthropy.
But oh, how she wished for more, how she wished for more. More life, more living, more time, more perspective; simply. Putting on the Ritz is fun but one longs to take it off every once and a while, surely, that is not a crime? She looked down. Far, far down, as far as the eye, or two, could perceive. From this height it would be far a way down.
Quite.
With a heavy sigh, she turned her body to face away from the alluring, exquisite, familiar, boring, sight of the noirscape she lived in. She closed the sliding glass door behind her, drew the curtains back to conceal her secrets from the strangers of the night, presumably retiring to her chambers for the evening. To her ignorance, or lack thereof, she had left a dainty looking envelope out upon the porch.
It was deteriorating by the second, the malleable paper skin serving no match for the heaven-sent irrigation as its contents were soaked through. And yet, there was a name, the only name which could be read, the very name which the envelope was delivered to, dressed across the front like the title of a film or novel. It read like words of foreign elegance, pronounced with the mouth forming a lick, a whistle, a surprise, a hush, and finishing as if bidding a most unwelcome departure. And this name belonged to the woman who stood in sorrowful grace and prose of beauty as she peered at a rejected, repetitive world.
Her name was Eleanor Achroous.
If for a moment, and only a moment, her name was still seen, as the ink cried tears of black as they streamed down the envelope’s face, droplets dripping off the page,
..
falling,
..
falling,
..
splashing,
against the pavement of the commoner’s sidewalk far below the penthouse balcony.
The next morning, er, rather mid-afternoon, Eleanor arose from her slumber. The perfect picture of wealth and elegance…was not prevalent at this hour. She sat up in bed, stretching, her hair sticking out at odd angles from sleep, as she smacked her lips together a few times, her waking fog of breath permeating a horrid taste within her mouth. Beautiful, though, indeed.
Yawning, she held an expression of aloofness as she removed herself from the bed. Her nightgown draped behind her, flowing like a wondrous cloak as she walked along her room to the washroom. As she walked, she once again felt the velvet touch on her feet of the rich carpet the bedroom was lined with. The sensation changed as the feeling turned from inviting warmth and depth to a cold shock of tile within the lavatory.
With a sanctifying cleanse of water removing the lingering thoughts and sentiments of slumber from her mind and body, and shuffling into a pair of slippers with a color like purity, she sat amongst her dressing table, preparing herself for the day ahead of her. A voice rang out from someways behind her, presumably from the bottom of spiral stairwell which led to her suite.
“Eleanor, are you up yet? Do hurry up, your breakfast is getting cold!”
The voice belonged to her mother, Mrs. Fleur Achroous, who usually was up and about in time to be sun’s own alarm every morning. She loved the quiet serenity of dawn unlike anyone else, as in her words:
‘I can imagine I am the only one awake as the world dreams its own dreams, and I take each step intentionally, each breath gratefully, as I am free of dread or worry for these moments.’
Mrs. Fleur could be rather enigmatic at times, and yet it would be foolish of Eleanor to not see where she got her own sense of melodramatic and morose beauty. Another voice mumbled in addition following her mother’s, then called out a latter declaration.
“No, I’m sure she’s awake, I heard her footsteps a moment ago. Sweetheart, I say this with upmost love in my heart; I will eat your food without any remorse in a few moments if you aren’t here to stop me!”
“Oh, Gerard, quit it!”
“Verily, I’m not kidding.”
And her father, Mr. Gerard Achroous, was always the ever-joyous soul no matter the time of day, though he certainly preferred to sleep in as well. Eleanor loved both her parents dearly and had nothing but fond memories of them in her childhood. Their closeness continued to grow even as she grew into the young woman she was now, and they always sought her best interests in anything they did.
However, when your family heritage is built on a wealthy history of stock investors, the lavish life of abundance was both a blessing and a curse. Eleanor, under the panic of her father’s threat, hastily cast a flourishing cloud of powder and perfume over herself. Truly, there was far more effort and art put into makeup, but to the inexperienced it might not seem so. As she did so, she called out from her room.
“Don’t you dare!”
Downstairs, the married couple shared a sweet smile betwixt them.
A few moments later, record speed, Eleanor appeared atop the spiral staircase, donned in a beige, short, slim-fitting dress with fringe at the bottom, and was adorned with silver sequins accenting in spiraling patterns all over. She wore a coffee colored, velvet tippet with a gray fur collar which draped itself down to her hips.
Her beautifully chocolate hair, which hosted spots of silver glitter, was styled into a curly bob and finished with a silver headband. On her feet she wore umber colored heels with straps at the ankles. Across her neck, on her wrists, and on a few fingers were choice pieces of silver jewelry to complete her outfit. An average Thursday morning breakfast outfit. Or, rather, Thursday lunch.
From the top of the stairs, she gazed at her parents with pride and elegance, akin to a runway model, as she deliberately put one foot forward in a pose to show off her style. Both her parents held an aloof expression; this was routine. Eleanor gracefully floated down the stairs as a princess does in a ballgown, posing every few steps, leaning against the railing. After a few seconds of this, Mr. Gerard grabbed a fork and held his mouth wide open with a piece of pancake in imminent danger. Eleanor rushed her performance and declared loudly.
“Gooood…”
She traipsed across the floor, swishing the fork away from her father and eating the bite in one swift motion. With her mouth full, she completed her sentence.
“Mmnormning!”
Her father grinned cheekily as her mother spoke, still cleaning up from breakfast.
“Hello, sweetheart. Please sit, don’t chew with your mouth open like that.”
Eleanor took a seat at the kitchen island respectfully and resumed her meal. Mr. Gerard admired her outfit of the day.
“You look gorgeous, I love the colors; ah-are those your mother’s pearls?”
Eleanor raised her eyebrows, looking away smiling as another dainty bite of pancake filled her mouth. Mrs. Fleur hadn’t heard this exchange and instead asked Eleanor a separate question.
“Did you see Miss Joan up there? I made her a plate, I’d hate for it to get cold.”
Mr. Gerard responded.
“No, no, she went out for groceries early. Although…she should be back any minute now.”
Eleanor stepped back from the island and peered down from the penthouse window. The streets were starting to fill with people bustling to various parties; it was New Year’s Eve, after all.
“Oh my, look at all of them! Wait, wait, I see Miss Joan, she’s walking in the front doors right now.”
She resumed her place at the kitchen island, as moments later they all heard the familiar ‘ding’ of the elevator, and a woman wearing a red and white plaid blouse adorned with a teal-colored apron floated into her bedroom. Miss Joan was the family’s maid who had faithfully served them ever since Eleanor could remember but was more than a maid; she was part of the family too. Mr. Gerard called out to her.
“Ah, there she is! Drop those off, come take a seat! Fleur’s made pancakes!”
Miss Joan sighed wearily as she walked into the kitchen, shrugging off the bags of groceries on the table and taking the plate gratefully from Mrs. Fleur.
“Oh goodness, thank you! Phew, you would not believe it out there. Early drunkards getting a head start on the festivities; and lots of them!”
Eleanor responded.
“Well, it is the end of a decade. Surely not a common holiday, right?”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right, but I would just expect some decency to wait at least until the evening to start your foolishness so I can get some errands done!”
Hearing this, Eleanor turned to her parents.
“Do you hear that? ‘Foolishness’! Oh mother, oh father, how I plead to go out tonight and be foolish with the rest of them!”
Her parents exchanged an anxious glance before her father responded.
“Now, now, you don’t need my permission to be foolish, it’s certainly never stopped you before…”
“Father!”
“Only joking, kind of. No, no, but I will say that it is in your best wishes that your mother and I strongly advise against it. It’s much to dangerous to be mingled about with a crowd like that, especially a young woman all on her own.”
“But I wouldn’t be on my own, Miss Joan will go with me, won’t you?”
Miss Joan spilled a small amount of syrup onto her apron at hearing this, gingerly dabbing her cheeks with a napkin before responding.
“Well, I-, of course, if your parents wish me to. Technically, I do work for them, dear.”
Mr. Gerard had no response for this, taken slightly aback, but Mrs. Fleur interjected his silence.
“You…can make your own decisions, so…do whatever you’d like. However, we would feel much better about the whole ordeal if, if indeed, Miss Joan went with you.”
Mr. Gerard added.
“And you were home before it gets too dark.”
Eleanor giddily slipped off the seat and ran to go hug her parents.
“Ohh, thank you two, I promise, we’ll be okay! I can take care of myself, you know.”
Mr. Gerard raised an eyebrow.
“Right…now you-”
But his last thought was interrupted by a ringing noise coming from the phone room down the hall. He held a puzzled look for a moment before hurrying off to answer it. Eleanor, ignoring this, walked over to Joan and started talking about her attire.
“Oh, Miss Joan, we’ve got to get you a proper outfit to go out tonight!”
“Now, what’s wrong with this?”
“Well, nothing, haha…no, its just that you always wear that! Tonight is a special occasion, come with me, I have tons of clothes you can try on! Ah!”
“Darling, at least let me finish my pancakes…”
“Fine, fine, fine, I’ll go pick out some outfits and when you’re done you can try them on!”
And with that, Eleanor skuttled across the kitchen in her heels and hastily made her way to her room. Downstairs, Mrs. Fleur gave an almost sympathetic smile to Miss Joan as she finished her food.
“We do appreciate this, Joan, truly.”
Miss Joan waved a hand as she wiped her mouth with a napkin, swallowing before she spoke.
“No, no, it’s alright. We were all young and full of energy once, I’m honored to be along for the ride.”
“Oh my, it’s been so long ago for me.”
“I agree; it’s been long for you too.”
Mrs. Fleur gasped playfully as they both shared a laugh. Miss Joan walked to drop her dish in the sink as they both started to wash up from the meal, chatting as they did so. A few moments later, a very stressed-looking Gerard appeared in the doorway from the phone room into the kitchen. He spoke quietly.
“Fleur…”
Fleur, having put a cup away, had just closed the cabinet door to see the figure of Gerard.
“Oh, there you are honey. I was just telling Joan about those dreadful- what is it? What’s that look for?”
“Fleur, it’s Charles.”
And as if the mere utterance of the name could manipulate time and space themselves, the kitchen fell silent as the three individuals stood still; hackles raised, if they had been animals. In this moment, several things became apparent, and yet each one of the remained unspoken. Fleur had an almost ghastly look on her face as she stared into her husband’s eyes quite apprehensively. Joan piped up from her daze.
“Now, what does that dreadful man want this time? Surely, you two have paid your dues in full by now!”
Gerard ignored the outburst, still looking at his wife, perhaps studying her features. His throat seemed far too dry than it should be.
“He…he um…well, he wants to meet with us…soon.”
“How soon?”
“No more than a few hours, by the sound of it.”
“Ok…I understand.”
Gerard looked to Joan now.
“I need you to look after Eleanor, please. Please.”
Fleur turned and placed two hands, clasping Joan’s right hand in plead. Joan, her eyebrows tense and eyes wide, smacked her lips and shook her head dismissively.
“Oh, both of you. You are truly just fools, fools! What ever gave either of you the mindset that I would abandon this family, let alone your daughter! Heavens, I’m going out with her tonight, and I am pushing a healthy fifty-two, mind you.”
The parents smiled, their eyes glistening, with gratitude. Joan grasped the hands of Fleur in return, and spoke once more.
“I will take care of her, should it be necessary.”
Fleur tightly embraced Joan, as did Gerard, before the two made their way upstairs, wiping away any trace of sadness. Arriving at Eleanor’s door, Gerard knocked thrice upon the intricate wood carvings that decorated the entrance-port. Eleanor called out from within.
“Come in!”
As they entered, they were met with a chaotic scene of various fabrics and clothing items strewn about across her bedroom. Eleanor was currently trying on a Victorian-era ballgown, posing and twirling about in front of a full-length mirror.
“Do you think this is too much? No, certainly not. Probably. OH! No, no, no, what am I thinking, the bottom is sure to get dirty.”
The parents exchanged a glance before Fleur walked over behind Eleanor, holding up a different outfit to the mirror.
“Hmm, try this one.”
“Ooh, mother; how scandalous!”
“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad. Besides; how do you think I got your father?”
“Goodness, is that so?”
Gerard rushed forth.
“Absolutely not, come now, how about…?”
He held up a dark brown trench coat, about eight sizes too big, and a top hat.
“Eh? Classy, and modest!”
The women looked at Gerard with expressions of bemusement. Eleanor, with a slight jump, sprang to her closet.
“Oh! I’ve got it!”
A moment later, quick enough to be impressive, she returned donned in a beige, short, slim-fitting dress with fringe at the bottom, adorned with silver sequins accenting in spiraling patterns all over, and a coffee colored, velvet tippet with a gray fur collar which draped itself down to her hips. Gerard squinted his eyes.
“Isn’t that the same outfit you came up here wearing…?”
“Yes, it’s just lovely, isn’t it? It was far too splendid to not show off to everyone else, don’t you agree?”
Fleur stepped over to her and gave her a hug.
“I think you are gorgeous in anything, sweetheart.”
Gerard, straightening his tie in the mirror, cleared his throat rather rashly.
“Now, your mother and I are going out for a bit. The bank called, something about our account…or something.”
Eleanor spoke offhandedly as she began putting makeup on.
“Oh, okay then! Miss Joan and I will likely be gone by the time you get back—oh! Will you say hello to Judith for me? I hear she’s pregnant, ah! But oh- that’s just talk, just a little talk of the town. But talk I’ve heard nonetheless, mhmhmhm! You will find out sure for me, won’t you Father?”
“Sure, sweetheart.”
With that, Gerard turned and gave Eleanor a hug, much too tight.
“We love you very much, don’t forget that.”
“Darling, I think you’re squishing her.”
“Y-yes-!”
“Oh, oops!”
He let go as Eleanor gasped loudly, quite dramatically, before giving both of her parents swift kisses on their cheeks.
“Of course, and you both should know well by now that I have deep regards for you as well, fellow associates.”
Fleur sighed as Eleanor went back to the mirror to try various accessories on.
“Must you always be such a wise ass?”
“I’m the product of you two; indubitably.”
Gerard shrugged.
“She’s got a point there.”
Fleur took her husband’s hand as they started to walk out of Eleanor’s room.
“Alright, we are off, have fun tonight, okay? Don’t say it, Gerard.”
“Say what, I wasn’t going to say anything!”
“Yes, you were, I know you were.”
“What was I going to say then, all-knowing?”
“You were going to say the dad-thing: ‘But not too much fun!’”
“I most certainly was not!”
Their bickering slowly dissipated as they left the room, until Eleanor could no longer hear them.
The next couple of hours was spent with Joan as they chatted while Eleanor fitted her with various outfits, blasting music from the radio while they did so. Finally, she was satisfied with a Phthalo green colored slim fitting dress with fringe at the bottom, a comparable colored head band with various shades of green feathered fastened with a silver jewel centrepiece, a pair of black twelve-button gloves, silver colored earring with dangling designs, black heels, completed with strings of pearls across her neck to finish. They matched each other perfectly, under Eleanor’s elegant eye. Joan gazed at herself in the mirror, clearly impressed.
“My, darling, you do know how to make an old gal look young again.”
“Oh, please, Joan, you don’t look a day over…”
Eleanor, in the middle of powdering her face, stopped to glance over at Joan from the mirror.
“Thirty-two, I’d say.”
“Certainly took you a bit to come up with that number.”
“I mean it! You are as beautiful as always. Maybe tonight we can find you a date!”
“Oh, goodness.”
Eleanor snapped shut the compact mirror.
“Alright, we’re ready! Let’s go!”
A pair of clacking heels entered and exited the penthouse elevator and walked out into the thick of the City. It was rapidly approaching evening as the sky began its melancholic descent from evanescent blue through the vibrant warm layers of sunset. The scene before them was already a wild one; it seemed the party never died down even from lunchtime. The impending New Year tended to bring out the best and worst of humanity, as drunkards flooded the streets dancing along to accompaniments of abrasive jazz; Eleanor loved it. Grabbing Joan’s hand quickly, she pulled her into the crowd, immediately joining the crowd.
As night let itself in and joined the celebration, Joan and Eleanor enjoyed themselves immensely as they shuffled in rhythm, chatted up strangers, and drank their weight in alcohol. The last antic was mostly due to a very odd individual named Moose, whom they had talked most to within the last hour.
Taking a break from the wild streets, Eleanor and Joan found themselves sat at a bar as the character of Moose was raucously entertaining the bar guests. He wore a pecan colored jacket with a cream colored wool inline, a jacket akin to that of a pilot, which of course, he was. After a daringly narrow escape from foreign airspace, the Air Force decided to send him home for the holidays, or so was his story. As his stories grew more exciting, his tab was ever increasing as well.
“…There was no conceivable way I should’ve made it out, as the propeller of that Fascist pig…”
“…Sir…”
“…So, I jumped out of the cockpit, throwing caution to the wind…”
“Sir…!”
“…AND HIJACKED THE-”
“MR. MOOSE!”
At the climax of his tale, Moose, annoyed, turned to face the interruption, which came from the increasingly concerned bartender.
“Do you mind? You’ve spoiled another daring tale of the great-”
“Do you plan on paying your tab anytime soon? You have accrued a great amount and I implore you to settle up and start a new one, if you must.”
“Aha! Right, right, of course. I do believe this could’ve waited until after my story…but…um, how much do I owe you, good man?”
The bartender retrieved a quite impressively long sheet of paper and presented it to Moose. His eyes widened as he looked rather uncomfortable. Looking around, he tugged at his shirt collar and spoke in strained tones.
“Ah haa…yes, yes, now, are you quite sure that is the proper amount I owe you? I’m pretty sure I didn’t order the last three items there. Trying to pull one over on me, eh? What kind of establishment are you running here?”
“Sir, the man over there ordered those three for his party when you graciously offered him so, now, if you do not mind paying, we can continue the festivities.”
“Um…so, I believe I left the precise funds for this here receipt in my other jacket, if you would be so kind, I will be right back, I only live around the block!”
“Sir, I will not permit you to leave the building without first paying for your tab!”
“Now what is this, are you threatening me? Just who the hell do you think you are?”
As tensions mounted, Eleanor intervened, her knees on the barstool as she leaned over the counter, waving a hand and shouting.
“Excuse me, please! I can pay his tab!”
Both individuals turned instantly to look at Eleanor; the bartender seemed skeptical, while Moose seemed elated. The bartender gave Moose a last cross look before stepping over to Eleanor’s side of the bar counter.
“Very well, here you are, miss.”
He slid the paper across the counter in front of Eleanor, which displayed the amount of a grand Five-Hundred and Twenty-Three dollars and Forty-Three cents. She cocked her head and spoke.
“Oh! That won’t be a problem at all, may I write you a check or should I make it out to the establishment?”
The bartender looked shocked, but relieved.
“The establishment would be just fine, miss.”
“Sure thing!”
But as she turned to retrieve her purse, she realized there was no purse to retrieve. Looking around with a puzzled look, she thought back to when she left the penthouse: she had forgotten to grab her purse. Embarrassed, and wanting to help the incredible pilot, she stood up hastily.
“I sincerely apologize, I forgot my purse at home! Please, I’ll be only a moment, I promise to pay you, sir!”
“Not a problem, miss, it’s not your tab; you’re more than free to leave. Stay safe out there.”
Eleanor leaned over to Joan, who seemed like one of the main perpetrators of Moose’s tab, and who was currently chatting up a fine gentlemen, and spoke.
“Miss Joan, I’ll be right back, okay?”
Joan, rather inebriated, gave hardly a head turn and responded.
“..mmnhm, be safe, darling, don’t forget your purse…”
Eleanor smiled and quickly left the bar, giving Moose a nod, whom gave her a pleading look in return. The streets had only grown more wild since they entered the bar, and Eleanor’s heels were not exactly the proper attire to be swift within, regardless, she found herself at the penthouse doors without issue. Taking the lift, she arrived at her suite in a few minutes. As she exited, she opened her mouth to call out to her parents, who surely would’ve been home now from the bank.
“Hel-”
But she cut herself off, as she found the lights and lamps to be entirely off, save for a few odd placed candles adorning various spots of the living room, which was where the lift’s doors led into. They cast a dim light with an almost eerie aura. Her brow furrowed, as this was an odd sight. She slowly crept through the room, walking into the kitchen, where the spiral staircase to the upper floor was. She took a couple of steps up the stairs before hearing a few voices from down the hall in the dining room. Ah, so her parents were home, perhaps just an odd decor change. But a third voice emitted into the silence. Eleanor stopped, listening intently, unable to make out the voice’s owner properly.
She stepped back down the stairs and started to walk down the hall, but quickly froze; her heels clacked far too loud to be subtle. She deftly unclasped them, leaving them in the kitchen, before creeping down the hall barefoot, getting closer to the dining room. As she approached the doorway, she crouched low to the ground and listened.
“…-Look, we can’t do it, okay?”
“We all know that if Fleur and I do this, we will likely die. Please, sir, for our family’s sake, we cannot indulge in this anymore. We never wanted to be a part of this in the first place.”
Her parents sounded distraught, but over work? Certainly, their work doesn’t put their lives on the line; but Eleanor had never heard that anxious tone in her father’s voice before.
“Oh, really? Well, that’s certainly odd, because that’s not what I remember hearing all those years ago-”
“We made a mistake!”
“DON’T INTERRUPT ME!”
A shattering slam resonated through the hall, as the shout made Eleanor jump, and she felt this horrible chill crawl inside her skin upon hearing the man’s voice. It was familiar, but why? A silence fell in the room for a moment, until the man spoke.
“Mistake or not, you committed your souls to me in return for your vast accrual of wealth, which, correct me if I’m wrong, you do love to keep, right?”
Silence.
“Answer me right FUCKING now.”
“Yes, yes, alright? Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“What I want to hear…is the sound of your undying loyalty to the Bunts Administration. The sound of your worthless shoes pitter-pattering up to your rooftop by midnight tonight and doing what I asked you to do.”
Bunts. Charles Bunts. Goodness, Eleanor had met him before in rallies and business events, but she never thought the man to be so evil as the monster she heard only a few feet away now. Of course, she heard the rumours, everyone had, but to witness the truth…
Bunts spoke with a menacing whisper, and Eleanor strained to hear his words.
“Did you really think that a simple letter would release you two from our little arrangement? Are you that fucking stupid?”
“…we’re sorry, Mr. Bunts.”
“That is precisely more of the tune…I was hoping for. Let me make something very clear…You will do exactly what I say and when I say, or you will be sacrificed to Ethri yourselves, which, trust me, is an agonizing experience. Do you understand me? Nod your heads, use your words!”
“Yes, yes, Mr. Bunts.”
“Yes, Mr. Bunts.”
“Perfect! See, that wasn’t so hard! Now, before I leave, Fleur, I’m rather peckish at this hour. Rye, toasted, lettuce, tomato, and onion…throw in a little mustard, and oh, mmm, I’m feeling prosciutto tonight.”
Eleanor heard the shuffling of chairs and footsteps, and her heart skipped multiple beats. She silently retreated back into the kitchen in long, swift strides, grabbing her heels as she took the stairs three at a time. She entered her room and gently closed the door just as the individuals were entering the kitchen.
In her room, Eleanor’s eyes were wide and her breathing was quick and shallow. She sunk to the ground, her back against the door, shoes and purse beside her, as panic wracked her conscious, replaying all that she had overheard. What was that wicked man forcing her parents to do for her? Did Dad say they might die? What is happening right now?
As thought after thought assaulted her brain, Eleanor heard muffled voices from in the kitchen. Silent, shuddering tears started to stream down her face as she tried to breathe normally. She felt utterly helpless, for what could she do? She was a sheltered rich girl who couldn’t fend for herself, much less help her own family. All she had was money.
All she had…was money. Maybe…
Eleanor rashly wiped away her tears and got to her feet. She grabbed the forsaken purse which had hung on her coat rack all night and slowly cracked her door open. She poked her head through carefully, listening for voices in the kitchen.
“…Careful, beautiful. Don’t burn the bread. Hey, Gerard, tell me, how’s your daughter doing? Eleanor, right?”
“She’s fine, she’s doing well.”
“Funny, she always seemed lofty and air-headed whenever I’ve seen her.”
“She’s a bright, young girl, very creative. Sometimes she prefers to be in her own world than reality. But I think she’ll be quite successful in whatever field she sets her mind to. She’s got a good eye for fashion, you know.”
“Bright and creative, is she? Maybe she’d be useful as part of my team, no?”
“Ah…ha…perhaps.”
Despicable. As if she could ever stand longer than a few seconds in that horrid man’s presence. Eleanor slowly crept back into her room; there was no way she could leave with them in there. With a furrowed brow, she paced, thinking for a moment.
Oh! That might work.
She walked over to the personal phone she had in her room, one which could only make calls to lines within the Hotel. She called the phone downstairs. She heard a muffled ringing, some slight voices. A moment later, the voice of her father rang clear from the other end of the receiver.
“Hello? Who’s this?”
“Dad…?”
“Eleanor?”
“Dad…um…listen. I’m upstairs right now, I came back to get my purse and um…Dad, are you and Mom going to be okay?”
“Sweetheart, listen, you need to leave. Don’t worry about us, I need you to be safe.”
“No, Dad, please, what’s-”
“Ohh, haha, well, I’m sure she’ll be fine!”
“…what?”
“Just ask, I believe Robin is his name, ah, yes, ask Robin for a bottle of Brioschi, some water, and perhaps some snacks. Don’t worry, Joan’ll be fine. Sure sounds like you two are having fun, haha.”
“Y-yes of course. I understand, Dad. If you can get Mr. Bunts to go in another room, I’ll sneak down the stairs and out quick.”
“Yes, yes. Its quite alright, haha. Do call if you have any other troubles, okay?”
“What’s funny is that Joan truly is quite innebriated right now.”
“HA! Oh, haaha, dear, oh, I love you very much.”
“I love you too, Dad.”
With that, Eleanor hung up the phone. She snuck right back out to the top of the stairs, grabbing and holding her shoes again to remain quiet. She listened for her opportunity.
“…No, no, its quite alright.”
“Speak of the devil, haha. That was your daughter, I heard.”
“Yes, she was just concerned because Joan, well, it seems she had a little much to drink tonight.”
“Hahaha! That old hag. Couldn’t hold her weight, huh? That is funny.”
“Yes…quite. Actually, that reminds me, would you like to gaze upon my whiskey collection? Perhaps we could indulge in a bottle in celebration of the new year!”
“Ahh, Gerard. You’ve been holding out on me, eh? Go on then, let’s take a look.”
Eleanor heard their voices get fainter, and she sprang down the stairs as silent as she could. Fleur immediately looked up, sensing someone, and caught her daughter’s eye. Her face seemed a mixture of shock, sadness, and confusion. Eleanor ran over quickly and hugged her mom, and spoke with a rash whisper very quickly.
“I love you, don’t worry, I’m gone, I’m going to help, I love you!”
“Wha-..? Darling-!”
But Eleanor was already skipped back into the living room, inside the lift. As she descended, her last sight was of her mother quickly wiping her face as Bunts and Gerard re-entered the kitchen.
On the street outside the penthouse, Eleanor was quickly trotting back to the bar, glancing around on all sides around her every few steps. She was sure Mr. Bunts hadn’t noticed her being there, but she still felt this anxiety coursing through her as she felt as if several pairs of eyes were on her. She bit her lip, trying to study every passerby, looking for the faintest hint of danger, but it never came. It was late now, the sky had tucked itself in for the evening; the moon, its nightlight. The new year would be here shortly.
As Eleanor reached the bar, she stepped inside to a much different scene than when she left. Far fewer people inhabited it, and those who did seemed sodden and saddened with alcohol, rather than hyper and merry. Moose was no where to be found. Eleanor approached the bartender, whom for a split second had an unpleasant scowl on his face, before seeing her and lighting up.
“Um…hello, I found my purse, let me write you that check now.”
“Oh, miss! How wonderful it is to see you! You have no idea the pickle I’d be in if that scoundrel’s tab was written off as loss here. And, get this: he disappeared a few moments after you left! A small crowd of youths came barreling in here, shouting about the new year, and amongst all the commotion, that, and excuse my language, worthless bastard, was gone!”
“Oh my, I am so terribly sorry. Perhaps, um, well maybe he did leave to go get his other jacket, like he said? The one with the money?”
“Miss, you give him far too much credit. I highly doubt he had ‘another jacket with money’; I doubt he had any money at all!”
“You think him a liar?”
“But of course! You certainly didn’t believe his outlandish tales, did you?”
“Oh, but I did! He sounded so genuine and sincere, it was hard not to! Now, though, now that you mention it, there were a few plotholes…”
“Aha! See? And most of his supposed feats aren’t even realistically possible! I mean, truly, how does one jump out of a plane, land into another, and live to go to a bar and steal from me?”
“It did sound a bit far-fetched, I suppose. But, and at the very least, it did make for a fantastic story.”
“Hm…I’ll concede there. But I’d prefer to never hear another of his again, personally.”
“I don’t know, I think—oh, goodness! What am I doing, I very much apologize, I must be leaving!”
“No worries, thank you for taking care of this-”
He gestured with the tab paper.
“–it means a lot. Oh, and don’t forget your friend, miss.”
The bartender gestured over to a small booth where the figure of Joan was leaned back, slumped down slightly, her head tilted way back, and mouth slightly agape. Eleanor walked briskly over to her and awkwardly tapped her cheek a few times.
“Miss Joan…Miss Joan…! Do come on, will you?”
“..mnm…”
“Please, we have to go, Mom and Dad are going to die if we don’t do something!”
She gently stirred, her brows furrowed, and opened her eyes to look at Eleanor’s.
“Oh…dear, I’m terribly sorry, sweetheart. I feel so silly you have to see me like this, it was that kind fellow I met; the drinks kept coming and–”
“Its no matter, truly! Did you not hear what I said?”
“What did you say?”
“My parents are in danger! That awful, wicked man is going to do something…or…or at least he might, I don’t know, look, we have to help!”
“What awful, wicked man?”
“Mr. Bunts!”
“Charles Bunts?”
“If that is the would-be mayor’s first name, then I would surmise as much.”
“Well, how do you know he is involved?”
“Well, I heard him!”
“You heard Charles Bunts telling your parents he is going to hurt them?”
“Yes.”
“The would-be mayor?”
“YES!”
Joan scanned Eleanor’s face for any hint of dramatization. When none was found, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she spoke.
“Darling…I do not think there is much we can do then.”
“What? How could you even say that?”
“Eleanor, you must understand, that man…that man is wicked. Your parents…they knew the risks working alongside him.”
“Joan, Joan, please, help me understand!”
“Sweetheart…there’s so much. Please, let us-”
“No, nevermind it. I refuse to stand idly as my parents are hurt, or, or killed!”
“Eleanor…”
“Joan, I am going to do something. I already have a plan, and you are in no state to stop me.”
Joan looked worriedly at the headstrong face of Eleanor, a twinge of guilt wracking her conscious. But she resigned to the fact that she was unable to truly stop this young woman.
“…I suppose you’re right about that. But, darling, you must realize you are no soldier yourself.”
“I don’t have to be.”
She spoke with a mischievous glint in her eyes, as she stepped to the center of the bar and spoke loudly to the remaining individuals still sat here.
“Hello! Hi, excuse me, um, hello, my name is Eleanor…”
The people remained, about five rugged looking men, exchanged sideways looks, their brows furrowed as they stopped their own lives to listen.
“…right. Um, I…I need your help. My parents are in trouble, the kind of trouble that might kill them. Obviously, I am not a fighter, but you friends are very much more capable than me! I need you to help, erm, ‘take care’ of the fellow, do we understand each other?”
The men remained silent for a moment. Even the bartender stopped his cleaning of glasses to listen in.
“Please. Its only one man, surely, the five of you could easily take him?”
One guy scoffed.
“Heh, o’course we can. But why would we? Look, kid, people die everyday, okay? We’ve all had to grow up at some point, sounds like reality is about to come knockin’. Dirty up those fancy clothes you’re wearin’, haha.”
Eleanor glared at the man furiously, before blinking a few times, changing her expression to be aloof.
“Hm. I suppose you might be right then. Oh well. I’ll be on my way then. Come on, Joan.”
She turned on her heel and walked back past the bar counter, helping Joan to her feet. As she made for the door, she turned her head back and spoke to the bartender.
“Oh, by the way, Mr. Robin, I believe.”
The bartender cocked his head, confused.
“I never told you my name…”
“No, no, darling, you didn’t. I am just a gal who knows things around this City, is all. Anyways, I wanted to leave you a tip; I’ll just leave this cash here by the door. Is thirty-percent alright for you? Should come out to about One-hundred and Fifty.”
The number certainly caught the attention of everyone in the bar. They watched as Eleanor dropped a small stack of cash on a shelf by the door.
“Oh, and for you gentlemen, you didn’t think you wouldn’t be properly compensated for the job, did you? I am a businesswoman, after all.”
She was not. But the men at the bar wouldn’t know that fact. Eleanor strode out of the bar and stood on the sidewalk, waiting. Only a few moments later, all five men came hurrying out of the bar, looking from left to right. When they spotted Eleanor, she waved, wiggling her fingers at them. The same guy from before spoke up.
“Hey; we’ll do the job. Where’s the punk you need roughin’ up?”
“Oh, yay!! Um, excellent. Right, if you’ll kindly follow me, its just a few blocks away.”
They took off in stride as the new year slowly approached; arriving within about fifteen minutes. The streets were further filled with more chaos as it seemed the entire City spilled out to celebrate the occasion. Eleanor helped support Joan as they walked, as her head was still pounding and her vision still dizzy. She murmured concerns as they traveled.
“Eleanor, are you sure this is going to work? I mean, are you sure he’ll be there?”
“When I left he was pestering Mom to make him a sandwich, and Dad was pouring them drinks.”
“I don’t know…I just have an odd feeling about this.”
“Relax, don’t worry! There’s five strong guys walking behind us right now, and only one politician. We’ll walk in, jump the fool, and countdown for the new year with Mom and Dad and our new friends!”
“I…okay…”
Eleanor, however, did bite her lip, thinking about the plan. Perhaps, she would need a contingency. As she walked, she eyed the people partying, looking for anything that might serve that purpose. She noticed that the night hour brought about some strange people. A man with all gray attire pushed past her; he seemed to be wearing some sort of ski mask. She turned her head to look back at him, but she couldn’t see him at all anymore. Joan gripped her arm tight.
“Eleanor-!”
She hadn’t realized she was drifting to the side as her head was turned, but it was too late. Eleanor ran right into a woman, who dropped a satchel she carried. The woman wore a white coat and was quite upset at the event that just transpired.
“Excuse me! Watch where you’re going, young lady.”
“I-I’m terribly sorry, I…”
“…floozy.”
The woman, having retrieved her things quickly, shoved Eleanor to the side and briskly strode away. One of the guys behind her spoke up.
“Aye! You want us to kick her ass?”
Eleanor, gingerly brushing off her dress, spoke calmly.
“No, no, that’s quite alright. We’re just about here anyways.”
Then she spoke quieter to Joan.
“Besides, I got a backup plan from that.”
She revealed a pistol from inside her purse. Joan gasped.
“Where did that come from??”
“Well, um…that lady’s satchel.”
“You stole it?!”
“Relax Joan! I’ll find her after this whole ordeal is over with and return it. Its just in case, you know?”
“Oh my goodness, darling, have you gone mad tonight?”
Not
.
yet .
.
🙂
“I don’t know! I’m scared, okay? I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m just hoping everything’s going to be okay.”
“Me too, sweetheart…”
Joan gripped Eleanor’s hand tightly as they arrived in front of the front entrance to the penthouse. Eleanor started to open the door when the main leader-ish guy spoke up.
“Woah, you live here? Who the hell is your enemy, the President?”
The guys chuckled a bit.
“Close. It’s actually Mr. Bunts.”
The laughter immediately ceased.
“…say that again?”
“Mr. Bunts? The would-be-mayor? How come there’s always such confusion surrounding this?”
The men all looked extremely uneasy, a couple started to back up. The first one looked quite apprehensive, and spoke slowly.
“I…we…we can’t help you.”
Another piped up.
“No way in hell I cross that man.”
“Pff, no amount of money is worth that.”
“You hear what he did to that family on 67th street?”
Eleanor, panicking, pulled out her checkbook.
“Wait, please! Five hundred! Each!”
The guys slowly shook their heads as they began to leave back down the street.
“One thousand!! Two!!”
The first guy looked back, sadly.
“Kid, I’m sorry. If you were smart you’d turn around with us. See you around.”
Eleanor’s heart beat fast; she felt crestfallen and terrified. Her plan had entirely fallen through. Tears began to stream down her face, as Joan started to wipe them away.
“Darling…I’m so sorry. We really aren’t safe here, we have to-”
“No.”
Eleanor whipped Joan’s hand away rashly, wiping her own face roughly. She drew the gun from her purse, holding it tight.
“I’m going in there. Feel free to stay behind if you want.”
Joan, slightly hurt from the gesture, shelved her fears, dedicated to following Mr. and Mrs. Achroous’ wishes.
“Fine. Let’s go then.”
The two entered the penthouse, which was entirely dark. For some inexplicable reason, the power seemed entirely drained from the building. Eleanor walked to press the lift button, to no avail. Joan sighed.
“Are we really taking the stairs all the way up there?”
“No, silly. Dad had a backup lift installed borne from his hatred of stairs. It works off of counterweights and pulleys. It should be…”
She walked to the door which held access to the stairs. Inside the vertical hellspace, there was a secret engraved door which looked identical to the stone surrounding the walls. Eleanor felt for an odd crevice, finding it, and pulling the door open, revealing an elevator sized room.
“Aha!”
“Your father is such an odd genius.”
“Well, where do you think I get it from?”
As they stepped inside, Eleanor fiddled with a series of levers and locking-pins, setting the counterweights at an approximate heavier weight than the combined two of them, and releasing the block which held the lift in place. The room started to slowly rise. After a couple minutes, Eleanor started to pull a lever to slow the lift, locking it in place as they reached the top floor. They pushed the stone door open, finding themselves inside Gerard’s office. Similar to the lobby, the floor was eerily silent, and the lights all off.
Eleanor and Joan crept through the office, walking into the hall which led into the kitchen. A half-eaten sandwich lay on the kitchen island.
“Bastard didn’t even eat the whole thing…”
“Where are they?”
“I think I remember hearing something about the rooftop.”
They snuck their way up the stairs, Eleanor leading, pistol in hand as she cleared the corners. At the top, to the right was the suite which was Eleanor’s room. Down the hall were a few guest rooms, but at the other end was a storage closet, one which held a hatch that led to the rooftop. They slowly approached the closet door, as Eleanor reached for the handle-
“WAIT!”
But Eleanor had already grasped the handle, to late to enact Joan’s warning. The handle came off entirely, still clutched in Eleanor’s hands, as a string attached to the end of the knob was pulled. Joan had sprinted hurriedly, grabbing Eleanor by the shoulder, pulling her back as she stepped in front. The string pulled some unseen mechanism, and through the door handle hole, a stream of bullets came firing out. Some sort of tommy gun, from the sounds of it, was triggered to fire as soon as the handle was pulled, unleashing its full chambered fury upon the wretch who dared enter.
Joan’s body was wracked from side to side as each impact flung her around. Eleanor was thrown to the side, and she watched in horror as Joan was shot Twelve times, before the gun had recoiled so much that it fell behind the door, blasting off Eight more shots wildly. When the gunshots stopped, Joan was still standing, panting heavily, as her chest was full of sucking wounds, each shot starting bleed into her clothes. Eleanor got to her feet and ran over to Joan, just as she was about to collapse.
“Oh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, Miss Joan, Miss JOAN!”
“…darling…”
“No, no, please, don’t speak, I-give me one moment, okay, okay, I think we have a first aid, I think we have a first aid?-”
“Eleanor…please…I don’t think…”
“Nonsense! I’ll only be a few minutes, stay here, don’t…don’t-!”
Joan smiled sweetly, as she clutched Eleanor’s hands tight, before her grip softened, and she passed out.
“Oh, gosh, no, please!”
Eleanor felt around for Joan’s pulse, which still slightly beat.
“Goodness, goodness, I—okay, Miss Joan, I’ll be right back, I’ll be back, okay? Mom and Dad can help you, you’ll be okay!”
Eleanor, tears streaming down her face, gently placed Joan against the wall, propped up and sitting. She took off her tippet and wrapped it tightly, or as tight as it could, around her chest, attempted to slow the blood flow. Eleanor stood up, sniffling, and drew her pistol once more, and walked back over to the door. There was blood spilling from the top of the door downward, but, why?
She didn’t have time to think about that now. She gently pushed it open, as there was no more lock or anything to hold it shut. The tommy gun lay unanimated on the ground, having served its purpose. Eleanor thought about taking it, but upon closer inspection, she realized the gun had shot every bullet when it was triggered. Certainly, overkill.
She climbed up the ladder leading to a hatch which led to the rooftop. She tucked the gun under her arm as she unlatched the lever-thing, before taking a deep breath. Then she opened the hatch, and climbed up onto the rooftop. She was quite unprepared for the sight she saw before her.
Standing in a circle, there were Six individuals all donned in unsettling attire. Each wore dark, cultish robes with hoods covering their faces, yet each had identifying aspects. One had a few chains decorating their robes, with a large lock covering their face. Next to them, someone wielding a thurible, which was covering the space in a thick smoke, and oddly, a smoke always covered their face as well.
Another, a person with a cone-shaped hood with various gold sigils all over it. The fourth held a mask, which seemed akin to the Statue of David’s face, over their own face. The final two were very similar, both having their hoods down, replacing their visage with large skulls over their heads, finished with a thin, black veil draped over themselves.
On the ground spread between them was a strange symbol painted in a sickeningly red color, as black candles dimly illuminated the rooftop. As Eleanor emerged, gun drawn, pointed at the group, each cultist turned to look at her. The one with the cone-hood shouted in a deep, reverberating voice, looking towards the other members.
“What is this, who are you? How did you get here?”
The two skull clad individuals seemed to panic, grasping one another and briskly walking over to Eleanor.
“Oh my gosh, no. No!
“Bishop, stop! It’s…it’s our daughter.”
As the two rushed over to her, they removed their veils and dothed their skulls, revealing themselves to be Gerard and Fleur Achroous. Eleanor put the gun down, sporadically asking for answers.
“Mom; Dad? What-what is this?? What’s going on?”
“No, honey, you should not be here! You were not supposed to come back tonight, you weren’t-agh, ELEANOR!”
Gerard shouted, angry. Eleanor’s face was becoming more and more worried and terrified. Fleur gave Eleanor a quick hug, before holding her arms to her sides, shaking her slightly as she spoke.
“Where is Joan? She was supposed to be with you!”
“She…the door, and we came-”
Gerard slammed his skull down on the rooftop, as the David-masked one spoke in an almost robotic, feminine voice.
“Host, you must resume the ritual. We do not have time. Come forth, brother.”
“DAMN THE RITUAL, DAMN IT ALL! I will NOT put my daughter in peril due to my own sins!”
The chain clad one roared back in response.
“You MUST! Overlord will not tolerate this, Host! Step back into the circle, both of you, before we sacrifice you instead!”
“Calm yourself, Keys. Hosts, make your choice. Either join us, or fuel us.”
Bishop drew a dagger sheathed from inside his robes menacingly. Fleur relinquished her grip on Eleanor and stood in front of her, standing beside her husband. Gerard joined hands with Fleur, holding his hand out in front of him. As they stood, their eyes began to roll backwards, and the air suddenly started to become thinner, becoming more difficult to breathe. The one with the thurible gave a hacking cough.
Bishop bowed his head down, holding up two fingers, and his skin began to glow, stemming from his fingers, spreading down. A bright, orange, crackling light shone brightly from his fingers, and burning sensation started to heat up around them. Gerard and Fleur’s robes began to singe at the ends, and in response, the ground began to…wiggle? No, it was odd, it was almost like the ground was turning to cloth, as fingers protruded from underneath, seemingly trying to break through the surface. The smoke person spoke up.
“Hey, hey, come on you all. We don’t have to do this.”
“Then the Hosts must yield, Soot!”
“We will not yield, we are done serving the Administration!”
“Then your corpses will aid in our rite!”
CRACK-
And yet, an odd instance occurred. The sound of a deafening crack boomed across the rooftop. Eleanor winced, waiting for the worst, but nothing happened. Both her parents and Bishop seemed apprehensive that the other had struck in some way, yet it became clear the source didn’t originate from either of them.
A subtle, ruffling noise, accompanied by a few metallic clinks, was becoming louder and louder. Bishop turned around, looking back at the City, just as a dark figure jet into him, barreling directly through him, tumbling onto the rooftop. Bishop crumpled to the ground, a gaping hole in his stomach, his organs spread across the surface of the rooftop.
The figure stood up; a nightmare incarnate. It was some sort of monster, its dark colored face stretched, almost in the shape of a whale’s, or maybe a horse?, as a long row of teeth creeped from the front all the way to the sides. Its eyes were sunken in, causing a dark shadow around them, the image left being a creepy whiteness amidst the darkness. Lengthened cords, seemingly veiny, protruded from its head, decorating like hair.
It wore a leather straitjacket, the buckles unclasped, dangling uselessly, and it was covered in blood. It spoke in an almost casual tone, but its voice echoed in haunting whispers.
“Fucking dammit, ouch.”
The chain covered one, Keys, lashed out. He ripped his chains off his body, and spun them around, running towards the nightmare.
“HHRRAAGGHHHHH!”
Keys whipped the nightmare in whirling strikes, each gaining more ferocity. The nightmare crashed to the side, falling to one knee, feeling the blows, before grinning manically. He reached an arm up, letting the chain wrap around it, before pulling Keys towards him. It met the cultist with a hand groping Keys’ throat. Through gasping breaths, Keys spoke.
“Wh..Eh-Ethri? I-I, I am sorry, I-I…knew not your…visage, O’ M-mighty One! Forgive, f-forgive me, E-Ethri! We a-are..y-your humble servants-!”
“The fuck? I don’t even know who that is. I’m the Säuberung, bitch.”
“H-huh?”
But their conversation was interrupted by several gunshots, as Soot revealed a machine pistol, firing repeatedly at the figure known as Säuberung. Säuberung threw Keys to the ground, and fluidly holding its jacket to cover itself. As the bullets impacted the jacket, it seemed like they were soaring into water, as the leather rippled with each bullet and droplets of, perhaps leather?, splashed about. Soot emptied the gun into the jacket, but when he stopped to reload, Säuberung peeked up, and in a spinning motion, whipped its jacket towards Soot.
The motion sent several projectiles back in Soot’s direction. Eleanor watched as Soot was blown back to the ground, a sight awfully familiar. A projectile whizzed past her head, but when she turned to look at it, she saw a small cube made of what seemed like bone embedded in the wall beside her. Odd.
Keys, stumbling to his feet, shouted to the David-masked one.
“Chisel, come on! It can’t take both of us!”
The one known as Chisel, whom had been crouched in the corner, watching the fight, leapt at Keys’ command. Diving towards Säuberung, she grappled onto its back, holding on, as she stabbed at its neck repeatedly with a small, ceremonial dagger. Keys picked up another chain, and latched it onto Säuberung’s leg, pulling it apart, and proceeded to pummel Säuberung’s face with a chain-wrapped fist. Eleanor’s parents exchanged worried looks as these events proceeded rapidly, before turning to their daughter.
“You were never supposed to see this, we’re so sorry.”
“There is a world coming that we can’t protect you from anymore, but you must be strong, be smart, and above all, be weird, okay?”
“Creativity solves more problems than strategy.”
“But strategy wins more wars.”
“Your heart is your fuel.”
“But your soul, that, that’s your ‘Chicago typewriter’, you hear?”
Eleanor’s gaze darted between her parents as they spoke these odd phrases, her eyes wide.
“What the hell does any of this mean??”
“We don’t have time to explain, but, we, we love you so muc-”
But the last sentiment was cut short.
In almost slow motion, as this was an event which solidified itself into Eleanor’s conscious, she watched the horrors unfold in front of her. Her father was first, as his mouth stopped moving and his eyes bulged out. No, they popped out, of their sockets, that is, connected by thin tendrils within his head. He lurched towards Eleanor from the force of an impact behind. He groaned loudly in a deep agony, but was suffocated by a violent hurling of vomit from his mouth.
Through the atrocity, her mother’s high pitched scream rang loudly in her ears, as Gerard’s face began to shatter, as a shadowed hand pierced through the back of his head, grabbing at whatever it could as it emerged. It crawled through from both the eyesockets and the upper jaw, before pulling apart his jaw in one fluid motion. Gerard crumpled to the ground, soundless save for a bubbling release of oxygen into his own pool of blood. What used to be his mouth lay upon Eleanor’s shoe.
Fleur screamed so loud that her vocal cords shredded themselves, as her eyes widened in shock. Her mouth was still open, but no sound was emitted. Säuberung stood from behind the crumpled heap that was Gerard, looking at Fleur. As she turned to face the creature, it stretched its horrid arms towards her, before it snatched her quickly. Säuberung wrapped her into a choke hold, its face something of disgust, before it ripped Fleur apart down the middle, skin separating from muscle, muscle separating from bone, and bone shattering from one another. Splashes of viscera splattered across Eleanor. She could see behind Säuberung were similar abominations of desecration featuring parts of Keys, Chisel, and Soot sprawled across the rooftop.
Eleanor was silent; silent and shaking. Her breath came in odd rhythms as she just stared at the cryptid before her, covered in the flesh of her parents. Her hands shook violently, both clutched around the gun, as silent tears streamed down her face. She was frozen entirely.
…
…
..
..
.
.
After a few moments of silence, the one known as the Säuberung spoke in its convoluted voice, staring at Eleanor.
“Look…there’s far more going on here than you can even comprehend. I think. I don’t really know, I take orders from a dead dog thing, I’m still covered in piss from almost an hour ago, and I’m living in a ball of meat. No, sorry, a cube, a cube of meat.”
Eleanor said nothing, silent tears streaming down her face. The thing spoke again, in a softer tone of, was it sadness?
“I, uhh…I’m sorry for…this…”
It looked around, gesturing at the vile mess around the two of them.
Eleanor, in a moment of clarity, aimed the gun at Säuberung and pulled the trigger.
POP! ffizhh…
A small popping noise emitted from the gun as a handful of confetti was shot out of it. A little flag unfurled from the barrel which read ‘Happy New Year’. She just stood, utterly helpless, mind spiraling. Säuberung gave her an odd look.
“Right…uh…I’m gonna go. See you later…sorry again, or whatever.”
With its departing words, Säuberung jumped off the rooftop, and a moment later, a loud crack identical to his arrival wracked through the air oncemore.
Perhaps it was here in which dearest Eleanor had her once pure and innocent mind shattered into obscurity. She stood on the rooftop, staring into space, for an unknown period of time, before she walked, almost in a fugue state, back into the penthouse. She climbed down the ladder, seeing the tommy gun still there, and the blood, now dried, from the top of the door. She talked to herself, thinking aloud in manic tones.
“Oh! I wonder why that did appear there? Must have been a trap, how fun! Oh, but it’ll take me forever to clean that! It’ll take me just forever to clean that!”
She walked through the door, her eyes almost blank, but a smile on her face. She took a few steps before seeing the corpse of Joan, her eyes dead and mouth agape, her skin having lost all color.
“Darling! That’s no place to take a nap! That’s no place to take a nap! Come now, let’s get you somewhere cozy, okay? Okay? Okay?”
Eleanor grabbed the cold hand of Joan, and promptly passed out, crashing to the ground.
somewhere, a gramophone muffled out a song.
The next morning, Eleanor arose from her slumber. The perfect picture of wealth and elegance was prevalent, even at this hour. She sat up in bed, stretching, her hair oddly curled out from sleeping with it still styled from the night before. She wiped away the crusts in her eyes, stretching, and slipped out of bed. Beautiful, indeed.
She held an expression of almost blissful blankness. Her nightgown draped behind her, flowing like a wondrous cloak as she walked along her room to the washroom. As she walked, she once again felt the velvet touch on her feet of the rich carpet the bedroom was lined with. The sensation changed as the feeling turned from inviting warmth and depth to a cold shock of tile within the lavatory.
With a sanctifying cleanse of water removing the lingering thoughts and sentiments of slumber from her mind and body, and as she shuffled into a pair of slippers with a color like ebony, she sat amongst her dressing table, preparing herself for the day ahead of her. A strange sound rang out from someways behind her, presumably from the bottom of spiral stairwell which led to her suite. It was the sound of a song.
“…don’t know where…don’t know when..-!”
Eleanor finished up her routine quickly, donning a black dress with poofy sleeves, her hair coming down in wavy curls, and still wearing her slippers. She crept into the stairwell as the music got louder.
“…some, sunny day…”
Eleanor stepped into the kitchen, where atop the island was her father’s old Gramophone, a record playing the oddly nostalgic song that echoed across the entire floor. A voice interrupted her analysis.
“Oh, good morning, dear; Happy New Year! I made you pancakes!”
Miss Joan smiled cheerily, sliding a plate stacked with pancakes towards Eleanor.
.
fin.
“…’till the blue skies drive the dark clouds…
…far away…”
ink stained pages 
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