Hey people; there is more written and coming – I just have to go do some other stuff at the mo. I hope these 900 words make sense; remember this is a hell draft; so any spelling/grammar help you can give would be greatly appreciated.
The last thing I wanted, starting up the shower, was a meeting with the suits. My unit of Inter-Portal Enforcement was one of eight; all the units existed in the struggling city of Melbourne; being that Melbourne was the most intersected string of quantum space between dimensions; hence 8 portals in a 237,629 km2 space. Most of Units were made up of OtherWorlders; their species was human but their evolution had created slight changes. As their culture was aggressively tribal’ the nocturnal human has a very limited capability to see during the bad – but they could hunt and fight better than any ‘Earthlings’. Their divine difference was the black and white of their minds, which defined their existence. A single act of evil would define all actions moving forward; they would always choose an immoral way – and there were no reported cases of people becoming ‘evil’ and moving back to ‘good’.
The Inter-Portal Enforcement Agency only worked with ‘good OtherWorlders to protect the leak of ‘evil’ into our world. These ‘good’ OtherWorlders were chosen by a combined and trusted panel and given a singular test of morality to confirm which type the potential agent was. All Enforcement Units were constructed of 5 OtherWorlders and 1 Earth-Witch. The OtherWorlders knew how to hunt their own whilst the rite of opening and sealing the portals went to the witches.
I stepped into the shower and got busy with the nail brush and shower chemicals that I always kept into the shower stall. I didn’t ever imagine I would feel clean, I figured the chemicals in the shower cleaner would be stronger than standard soap and by the time I’d finished my skin was a rosy pink. As I dried off with the towel I noticed in places I had scrubbed so hard that prickles of blood kept rising to the surface. I sprayed those areas with antiseptic and shower chemical but this time to clean the stall. I didn’t want a single epithelial of Giffen to exist within my space so I scrubbed the stall with a renewed vigour and single mindedness and watched his remnants dribble down the drain. And when I finished I felt microscopically cleaner; but I don’t know if I would ever feel clean.
I turned to face myself in the big mirror above the vanity and noticed I couldn’t’ bring myself to look in my eyes. I no longer respected or trusted the image looking back at me. But if I went without make up; my positions ritual markings; then everyone would be suspicious. The one thing I didn’t need was enforced downtime. I wanted to kill Giffen; to take back my confidence, my self-esteem and I suppose I also wanted to punish him. Luckily I was in the business of hunting and punishing errand OtherWorlders
I started marking my face when Gabriel’s rough knock sounded on the door; “You got 5 minutes,” he said.
“Or what? You gonna go without me?” I snapped.
“Are you OK in there?” He asked and I heard the door take some weight as he must have leaned against it to divine what I was up to.
“Gabe, I’m fine, just give me a minute to do my make-up.”
“Oh, Ok, just make-up?” He asked hope dawning in his voice.
“I also gotta get dressed,” I said knowing I was crushing that spawn of hope on his voice.
“Alright, just hurry. I hate being made late places.” He said out loud and whispered to himself, “You’re usually not like this.”
He was right, usually it was me fully dressed and pacing, waiting for these creatures to move into action. ‘Patience’ was not my virtue; ‘hurry the fuck up’ was usually my morning utterance.
I slap dashed my make up and walked out the other door of my en suite; into my walk in wardrobe. Dressing never took long. I snapped and pulled on underwear; then went for my linen focus tunic. The tunic was a hand-woven garment that was imbued with herbs and magic to help focus my chakras during combat. It had to go as close to my skin for full effectiveness; on the off white fabric the chakra points of the upper body were circled and joined via a line of woven gold thread that helped interact with the rest of the tunic. The garment had no sleeves and fell down past my pubis for full affectivity. I yanked on black combat cargoes and a black long sleeved t-shirt. At this stage was the base of all the clothing I wore except when going home to see my family. Over the top went a Kevlar vest and then a utility netted vest – but before that I had to get my boots and socks on or I usually tipped head over heels. The Utility vest was made up of net and had holsters for two Glock 9mils and my ceremonial knife, which was a large machete, used for the practise of magic and to wield on any occasion my guns went missing. The rest of the netting held a carabineer with a bungee rope attached to a mobile phone, a torch, pockets for particular herb mixes and other items of use. Generally my wardrobe was three quarters work clothes because that’s what I spent my life doing, my non-work clothes weren’t adventurous either and took up a very small portion of my wardrobe.
I woke to a throbbing headache and the taste of blood in my mouth. My body ached all over; bringing back the first few days of my combat training almost 20 years ago. Mentally I checked my body; I couldn’t be this sore without physical activity or sickness and I certainly didn’t feel sick; as I scanned my limbs and torso I realised that the lack of sickness was right – but I had exerted myself physically; as physically as I could. The foulness of the memory of Giffen and his despicable dominance permeated my consciousness and as it filled up my mind it also filled up my body with a tight quick trembling. Not only was I trembling at the memory but I wondered if he was still in the house. Surely this act would have turned him from moral; it would have been the final deed to push him into a thing of evil; the exact kind of thing I hunted for a living, but the kind of thing that he used to hunt too.
Quickly I scrambled out of the bed so fast that it would be easy to think that the bed would explode, my body screamed at me for ignoring it’s warnings that it had been pushed to extremes. I moved over to the set of drawers and stood staring at the bed; he’d come in and forced himself upon me as if I was nothing but a tool for his use. Outwardly the bed showed no signs that the act had taken place; to me it had a great big neon sign in the form of an arrow; the sign flashed “I was violated here!” spasmodically. Everything felt tainted; me, my bed, my room, the air I was breathing, my skin. It couldn’t be true, surely; I thought maybe I dreamt it.
Further into the house I could hear normal morning noises; a radio played low pretentious jazz as Guffey hummed along and cooked the Unit’s ‘breakfast’; his signature vanilla coffee percolation wafted its sweet, creamy smell throughout the house. Groman was in the gym room which was next to my bedroom; this was his normal morning routine. I almost always woke up to Groman’s whispered counting and the rhythmic, soft clinking of weights. Apparently you couldn’t be too muscular. I took all this in as I stood staring at my bed; hugging myself tightly, trembling violently.
“Anyone seen Giffen?” Gabriel’s lilting voice asked; Gaito’s negative response was around a mouth of whatever Guffey had cooked up for breakfast. I took action as I realised that Gabriel’s footsteps were heading in my direction. Six steps are all it took to reach my adjoining en suite, yet inside and lock the door. “Civ, you in here?” Gabriel’s voice was clearly over near the entrance way to my room; I realised I needed a door, thick iron core lockable door. “We’ve got a meeting at H.O. soon.”
“I’ll be out shortly,” I said surprised my voice was steady.
“Departure E.T.A 30 minutes;” his voice had been closer this time, nearer the bed. The very real consequence of anyone else finding out what had been done would mortify me; not only were it diminish my standing in their eyes, but they would only see me as a filthy whore. “You haven’t seen Giffen by any chance?”
“Nah, not since before sun down,” I didn’t lie; I don’t know if I could have been very convincing. Considering I was just standing here wanting Gabriel to go away. There was a pause, a long and pregnant pause and I could hear Gabriel moving in small ways near the bed. I closed my eyes and tilted my face up mother of the earth please just get him out of here I prayed.
“Alright,” he said moving off, “28 minutes now.” Thank-you, I offered.