The Company

Aches and Pains

I wake up with the worst hangover.

I roll over onto my stomach, but the motion sends a shiver of nausea down my spine, and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, I'm so dehydrated. I feel aches coming from my ribs where that asshole kneed me last night. My jeans that I passed out in are clingy and uncomfortable, every thread digging into my skin. I groan, thirsty, but not wanting to get up.

Another hour or so passes before there comes a gentle knock on the door that has me immediately at attention.

Knock...knock...knock

I never get visitors. Never since moving into this hole in the wall apartment funded by The Company. There is no one that I am that close to. Except Viktor. But I remember pissing him off or something last night, so it can't be him.

Knock knock knock

I grab the gun that is still resting on the bed, remember it's jammed, and throw it back down. I inhale, then move towards the door without hesitation. I throw it open, grab a fist-full of shirt, and throw the guy into my apartment.

He's a stranger, but he is not that much bigger than me, though his frame isn't skinny. He stares up at me with wide-eyes where I threw him on the ground. His face is swollen and bruised black all over, so clearly he's a fighter of some kind.

I look around quickly and grab a nearby broom from beside the door that I barely use. I jab the pole-end into his chest.  "Who the hell are you?" I growl.

"I-I-- from last night. You saved me and Amy."

I tilt my head at him. It's hard to recognize his face under all the brusies, but I realize it's College, or Terry, if I'm remembering correctly. I jab him in the chest again. "How did you find out where I live? Who sent you, hm?"

"That guy, your friend."

I raise a brow at him. What friend?

"... Splinter?" he offers once he sees my discretion. Terry raises his hands submissively, staring up at me earnestly. "I just wanted to thank you."

I keep the pole directed at him for a moment, pressing into his chest. "Thank me?"

"Well...yeah?" he utters, confused. "If it wasn't for you, I probably wouldn't have left in one piece, and Amy would have been..."

"Raped," I finish for him. It fucking irritates me when people dance around the word. Call it what it is.

He nods at me, dropping his gaze.

Finally, I remove the broom from his chest and set it aside. "You should take better care of your girlfriend. You were demented to take her to a place like that. You don't take women there."

"But you were there," he says, climbing to his feet.

"I'm different. So keep her away, got it?"

"She's not my girlfriend. That was our second date. I... wanted to impress her. Show her I knew cool places to be, that I'm tough."

I snort. "You failed miserably."

He pulls his shoulders back and looks me in the eye, and I am hit with the dreadful realization that he has come with more than a thanks. He is expecting something from me. "I came here to say thank you, but I also wanted to ask you to show me."

"Show you?" I drone, crossing my arms.

"How to fight."

I start shaking with repressed laughter. "You want me to be your Mister Miyagi?" I walk to the door that is still opened, pulling it wide and gesturing for him to go. "Sorry, kid, but that's not happening."

"I'm not a kid," he says, his chest puffing up. "We're the same age. And besides, I'm willing to pay. Just a few lessons!" He stands firmly in place, refusing to move.

"I don't need money and I don't need some lovestruck weakling hanging around. I have things to do, a job."

"What time do you get off? I'll work around your schedule!"

This was just incredible. I bark out a bitter laugh. "I never am off-- I'm always working."

He looks around my filthy apartment, scanning the garbage-littered floor and clothes strewn about everywhere. " You seem like you could use the money and something to do."

"Don't make assumptions," I bite. "Starting today, I-- why the hell am I trying to justify myself to you? Get out!"

He scuffs his way to the door, but turns before leaving. "Please think about it. I have my reasons for wanting to get stronger, and I think you can help me."

"Go to karate classes or something," I mutter, shutting the door in his face.

That little exchange only made my headache worse. I groan my way into the kitchen and fill a glass with water, thinking about his plea.

What could a guy like that need protecting from?

"Whatever," I say out loud, needing to hear something other than the dripping of the faucet.

I have a job to do. I have no time to babysit.

And speaking of...

I pull out my cell, finding Vik in my messages.

S: You busy?

V: you kidding?

S: if you have a moment to slip away, will you drive me to my new client's location? I totaled my car last week.

V: I heard. T.C. won't put up with your shit much longer, so get it together.

S: Grouchy. Will you drive me or not?

V: yes.

S: come whenever.

I toss my phone onto the couch and head for the shower.

I'm not looking forward to this new client. I haven't even been briefed on him yet, except being told that he's a fucking Demon, of all things. And a picky one at that...

How am I qualified to work for a Demon, and why did he pick me as his Attendant when my track record says I was fired? If this guy is a stickler for detail, how did that slip his notice?

Maybe he'll fire me.

I wonder what The Company would do with me if I failed twice in a row? Termination, perhaps? Would they sell me?

I watch the water running down my legs into the drain, wishing I could run like it can, into some dark hole where no one could ever find me.

I scoff at myself, turning the water off. "Don't be such a melodramatic idiot," I grunt under my breath.

I was born into The Company and I will die in The Company. I know that for certain. It's the middle that's tricky, especially now with this Demon business.

Drying my hair with my towel, I stare into the mirror, my blue eyes baggy and red, my skin looking a little jaundiced.

This job is going to kill me someday.

And that day can't come soon enough, in my opinion. Tired of all these aches and pains...