Monster 7

2:00 am , October 27th

The air tasted like sulfur. And yet despite this chaotic smell, the world churned on. 

Flashes of light permeated the very air as the balding man approached the door, his suit jacket's sleek and black shiny surface reflected the red lamp light that flickered over the solitary metal rusted entrance. 

His fingers reaching ever so slightly into his front pocket as he strolled forward, he struck a match to along his sleeve, lighting a match so he could light the cigar he was pulling out. 

He nodded, his dark glasses glinting in the lamp light as well as he brought the cigar to his mouth, the glow of the end of his drug of choice illuminating his well defined face, the graying bristles that was left from shaving his head illuminating his age of 50. 

The two guards on either end of the door nodded back. They wore suits like him, but each pocket was pinned with an ID badge and their hips holstered guns. But to those not familiar with this world, the oddest thing about them wasn't the cloak and dagger atmosphere, but the faces of the guards. 

Their eyes slanted, their features slim, their skin pale yet not sickly so, but ripely like that of a fine pear that has ripened to the best season. Their ears long and pointed, and hair a light blonde that bespoke of gold and the crackling autumn leaves. Their beauty exceeded that of normal masculine male humans.

"Do Elves always nod instead of shaking hands?" muttered the bald man as he smoked his cigar casually, the flashing reflectiveness of his teeth appearing slightly through the dark. "Eheheh, a bit weird."

"Only when facing clients." said one of the elven guards, smiling slightly, though his eyes, still wide awake and staring straight at the man, gave away that he shared no warmth with the man's attempt at humor.

"Now now, just trying to lighten the mood." said the balding man. "The boss in?"

The elf guard bowed slightly and opened the rusted door ever so lightly, which was disturbing to the balding man, as looking at such a unsightly door gave the impression that it would make a loud noise upon relinquishing its confines. 

"Please, he's been expecting you Mr. Karbowski." said the elf. "And if I might be so bold, please leave all lethal weapons here before entering. I'm sure you'll understand."

"Yeah yeah, I get it." said Karbowski as he reached into his pants pockets and pulled out a silenced pistol. He smacked the black glinting gun into the elf's hand with the click of metal and plastic. 

"All weapons Mr. Karbowski." said the Elf, giving him another cold smile. 

"Hmph, pretty thorough aintcha?" Muttered Karbowski, his smile swiftly turning into a pair of pursed frowning lips as he reached deep into his back pocket. "G-gimme a sec, mmmggh, this pocket's kinda tight. AH! There we go!"

like a man struggling to yank spare change out of the deepest depths of his laundry, Karbowski pulled out an ornate curved hunting knife. Its handle was ruby red with a gold pommel. Its silver sheathe showed a unique pattern depicting a slithering dragon fighting a giant man with a club. 

"Classic that one. Got an Enchantment of Woe on the edge. Every time it kills, the witnesses who see the murder automatically forget event 3 minutes later." said Karbowski fondly. "It's gotten me out of a bunch of jams you know. Don't scratch it kay?"

"We will take excellent care of it Mr. Karbowski." said the elf guard with a bow as he took the knife in one hand. "Now please, come inside."

The moment Karbowski stepped through the door and into the dripping wet halls, he heard his own black leather shoes echo like a wet patter in a cave as he passed rusted barred windows and more rusted doors like the one behind him.