II: DANSE MACABRE (Pt. 5)

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DANSE MACABRE (Pt. 5)

"All you want... is access to my surveillance videos," the demon summarised, an amused lilt playing on his voice, "and after that, you only wish to know the meaning behind these strange occurrences and their connection to Devil's Night? That's it?"

Dark Link's hand drifted towards the hilt of his sword. The shade was accustomed to dubious dealings with less-than-savoury characters, but, Zalgo was a different breed of intimidating altogether. Every fibre of his presence oozed with an intoxicating sense of power; from the authority he conducted himself with, to the way he lounged luxuriously in his chair whilst still managing to appear menacing enough to make blood run cold.

There was no denying it – the prince of darkness knew how to maintain a strict sense of who was in charge here.

Jeff seemed particularly receptive to it – having dived into the nearest and only pedal bin available when Zalgo gave him a brief glance. Every so often, the killer would push the lid open a crack to breathe and peek out.

BEN, on the other hand, didn't seem to care. The blonde midget could currently be found sitting on top of said trashcan, slowly but surely nibbling his way through a wheel of swiss cheese that was almost as big as him, and riddled with more holes than a 'crazy' fanfiction written on the fly by some loony called Phantom.

It was no wonder Smirky had thrown the negotiations with this devil to Darkness at the first chance he got. Out of the corner of his eye, Dark Link could see the illusionist hanging around quietly against the farthest wall, hiding in the flickering shadows of the moonlight which streamed from the whirling exhaust fans, doing something strange with his hands, cupped against his mouth. Darkness looked on intently.

It was almost like he was... whispering into them?

"Ahem," Zalgo cleared his throat. "Is that it?"

Quite by chance, Smirky peeked over his hands. Their eyes met for a second. Dark Link smiled sheepishly and jerked his head back towards the demon.

"Er..." For a dreadful moment, he couldn't remember what had been asked of him. Then it hit him on the head. "Yes." Standing a little taller, releasing hold of his sword in favour of clasping his hands behind his back, he hoped his newfound bravery wouldn't desert him too quickly. Soulless shadow. I'm only a soulless shadow. "As soon as possible, if you please."

"'If you please,'" the demon mocked, turning his back on him for a moment to boot up the inactive monitor. While it powered up, he swivelled in his chair, head propped on hand, "Smirky, stop staring a hole through his back. Take note. I want you to be every bit as courteous to me as your friend over here. Can you do that?"

"I'm not so sure, My Lord."

"Waah!" Dark Link's shoulders shot up with an alarmed shiver as the illusionist's voice clipped over his ring-studded ear. Then Smirky stepped to a side from right behind him.

(behind him like a pale shadow come alive)

Unperturbed, Zalgo only switched the hand propping his head up for the other one.

"Why not?"

"Stirring sugar into poison won't make death any sweeter, my Lord. I daresay a spoonful of courtesy would- Oh, pardon me, Darkness," Smirky began innocently, though the way his eyes glittered with mischief as he glanced towards the startled shade spoke otherwise, "did the fact I was staring at you without your knowledge make you feel... uncomfortable?"

"I- um- yes- no, I mean, no."

Smirky inclined his head slightly. It was abundantly clear he wasn't buying it, but, going by the quirked eyebrow, he took amusement in the shade's fluster.

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