Death-Inc. (The First Story of I.P.S)

The Day Began Strangely

  "Many Many Thanks' Mister Tanner." The Mail Bot said happily as he hung in the air wobbling a little as Mister Tanner struggled too hold the Mail Bot in the air. "How many times do I have too remind you, Andrew. You may call me Art." Art said easily too the Mail Bot swinging back and forth in the air. " Oh Miss Haverson! Art called out too an elderly white headed lady that was their next door neighbor who also happened too be out in her yard pruning her prize roses. Course Art Tanner knew full well that Miss Haverson pruned her roses quite often so as she could spy and snoop into the business dealings of her fairly new neighbors." Would you lend a hand please with righting Andrew. Then be a Dear and call the Postal Service too tell them too send out a mechanic for this Dear Boy. " Tanner called out his voice sounding a little tense as his feet began too slip a little on the porch boards as Andrew the Mail Bot wasn't exactly a light piece of copper.

  Miss Haverson was a rather sweet women when she wanted too be but also she was a terrible busy body. She had seventeen grandchild of assorted ages and sexes. She also had eight daughters that started in age of twenty four too a rather nice age of forty four. Tanner rather fancied the number six daughter Tabitha. Course the number eight daughter Clara Parker was rather nice looking as well. Miss Haverson rolled her eyes as she laid down her pruning shears then made her way out of her fenced yard into her neighbor's yard. She came up attentively behind the dangling Mail Bot trying too decide where exactly too put her gloved white hands. Miss Haverson simply shrugged then placed both hands on Andrew the Mail Bot's copper butt pushing upward. Andrew the Mail Bot as well as Art Tanner were both in shock by the strength of the elderly Miss Tanner. She looked too be anywhere between the ages of seventy five too hundred ten. Miss Haverson held Andrew the Mail Bot in a ninety degree angle while Tanner pulled in on the mail bag till he gained a good hold on Andrew's broad copper shoulders. Tanner held one shoulder while he pressed down on the left leg till it touched down on the boards of the porch. "Can you step the rest of the way up?" Tanner asked as with his now free left hand he pulled a sturdy oak rocker up close too the edge of the porch. "Then take a seat here in the rocker?" Andrew grunted twice then pushed forward but still needed a little shove from Miss Haverson. Andrew the Mail Bot stepped up then pivoted with Tanner's help till he came down too rest in the chair. Steam whistled out of the knee joint as Andrew's copper butt came too rest in the rocker. "Thank you Both Most Kindly. " Andrew replied. "I've been after those goof's in maintenance too look at that knee. I think the spur gear has finally wore completely out." The Mail Bot tried too move the knee in question but it still refused too move even for a fraction of an inch. Miss Haverson walked up beside Art leaning in close too whisper too him in his ear. "You really shouldn't be giving the machine's names." she advised nodding her head towards Andrew the Mail Bot in the chair. "They might get the idea they are living things." Miss Haverson nodded then gave Art a sever look before she made her leave heading back too her house. "I'll call the Postal Service." she threw over her should making for her front door. "Old Bat." Art said under his breath but smiling giving Miss Haverson a quick wave as she went into the door of her home. Andrew actually chuckled as he sat there trying too move the knee that would not give an inch there in his chair. "It's alright Mr. Tanner. I hear that exact same thing from everyone on my route. "Not by me Dear Andrew!" Art protested. "You have inner working which makes you as much a being as anyone else." Art Tanner looked back around too make sure she wasn't within ear shot. "I have a deep suspicion that Miss Haverson is an alien from the dark side of the moon." he conspired with Andrew which brought about another laughing fit from the Mail Bot.

A   rtemus Roosevelt Tanner, known as Art too his closest friends had already been up since 5 am this very brisk clear October morning. He had made his five mile run in under fifteen and half minutes. He now stood in the kitchen which was awash with the smell of bake goods as well as other meats a cup of steaming hot dark coffee in his right hand. The ceramic white lacquered cup looked as if it had seen better days discolored in some places with several chips in the enamel covering. The emblem of the English Royal Brigade was about the only thing on the cup that still remain semi visible. "You do know we have fine china coffee cups that you can drink from." Steward Magnus was the chief cook and bottle washer as well as the man servant from Hell for the manner house. He ran the house with its modest crew like that of a tip top Navy ship. "A bloody Scottish man servant should be against the law." Art whisper under his breath but still loud enough that Magnus heard him. "I heard that so I will also point out that I made the coffee earlier so if you taste any grit in the coffee it is the floor sweepings from the entrance hallway." Magnus replied with a stiff upper lip sound too his voice. "I swear." he added the last part for good measure with an equal amount of mirth in his Scottish voice as well. Artemus Tanner lowered his cup looking down into the thick dark liquid eyeing it suspiciously close. After several seconds Art snorted then went back too the cup swallowing a deep long pull. He slowly lowered the cup smiling broadly  sighing contently at the deep roasted coffee beans. "Can't be no worst than the black muddy crap we drank during the war." he said too himself but just loud enough which brought a sneaker from the female cook who was busy at the counter getting things ready for lunch later that day. Stewart Magnus shot the cook a sharp eye which froze her in place for the moment till Magnus made his way out of the Kitchen too go torment another member of the house staff. Art stood there deep in thought for a moment then remembered the cooks name too be Avon Craigstaf. He nodded too Miss Craigstaf who beamed back at him as Art poured another cup of coffee into yet another cup just like his own he had just pulled from a china cabinet. Course this cup seemed too have fair far better that his own cup had. He then took his own leave heading down a back stairway too the lower levels of the three story house. Of course there was the usual spacious basement underneath this old Victorian style house in the old neighbor of south Gastonia. But upon moving into the house Art had supervised the construction of a secret nature under the house as per the specs that the buyer of the house  had designed. The stairway was lit but not so brightly that it was blinding.  Art walked ramrod straight trying not too spin a drop of coffee as he descended the stairs. He made the basement proper without spilling a drop. Art Tanner knew that normally when one stepped into your average basement one would expect too see a darken storage area full of the items that the owner of the house did not need or want. Art can remember having too argue with Magnus as well as the buyer of the house too get rid of all the former tenant's belonging that were left upon their untimely death at the ripe old age of ninety one and eighty seven. Mister and Miss Haverlock were a lively couple that had spent a number of years of their marriage traveling abroad. Some of the items that were in debate were some things that seemed too have came from the former tenant's travels these in particular from the Middle East. Art ventured a guess that the items in question may have came from India but the buyer had quickly informed Art that they were in fact from Egypt. No matter where the bloody things originated from Art had finally been able too compromise with the buyer for these items too be stored away in a far corner of the basement appropriately boxed and tagged. This basement was quite different from the norm as a number of gas lamps were positioned at exact five foot intervals. They bathes the basement at equally regular intervals too a brightness that made it easy too see the dojo set up in the section that Art was walking through at present. Kendo sticks hung on a rack with a number of other assorted weaponry within easy reach. Art practiced in the dojo with his friend and owner of the house on regular occasions. The kendo sticks were Art's favorite tool too practice with. The swords were his tool of choice but the owner had an almost uncanny knack with the sword especially the two hundred year old samurai sword that rested by itself on a top set of pegs over the rest of the tools on the wall. Faintly Art could heard small whacks resounding from the other side of the wall he was presently headed for. A stout metal doorway with a with a hand written sign over head signaled that a live fire exercise was in progress on the other side of the door. Art moved up close too the door stepping on a certain tile on the floor which activated a chime which one could hear a little more clearly once you were close too the door. There after only a momentary pause the sign over the door went blank totally then changed too show the word Clear written across the surface. The bolt in the door clanged loudly as it was opened too allow Art Tanner entry.