1 laza/Paradigm - Chapter 7: Trapped

"You're telling me that somebody wants you dead, and you don't know who it is?"

"That'd be the gist of it," I reply shamelessly, casually biting my thumbnail. "There's more to it, but it's better if you don't know."

Inside his office reeks of smoke, empty bottle of cognac taking up all the empty space of his floor and desk. I had almost tripped when I first entered, not being able to see shit with his window blinds shut and the lights off. The state of his office alone would be a cause for concern, but considering his smell didn't seem any different from the last time we met, Pook isn't any closer to death now than he was then.

Letting out a long sigh, he scratches the back of his balding head. "How much blood are we talking this time?"

"About this much," I say holding up the vial in front of me. Even in this dark room I can see the black liquid inside it clearly, glistening on its own without light.

He leans over his desk, squinting his eyes. "So, what? You want me to find them? Get someone to deal with them for you?"

"That'd be ideal, yeah, but I don't think that'd be possible." If Sayuri came out looking like that after confronting them, anybody that Pook sends would be a lamb sent to the slaughter. "Just keep an eye out for anything that seems, how should I put it... otherworldly?"

"Oh, it deals with 'those' kinds of things. Yeah, no wonder you're giving me blood for something like this." Leaning back in his chair, he ponders a moment, playing with the rings on his fingers. "I can't really do much at the moment, kid. I guess I could ask around for any rumors of weird shit going on, but that's about it."

"Feds still got you on a leash?"

"Probably. That brown Maziata's been parked outside every morning for damn near three weeks now. Could be anybody for all I know, but I'm not taking any chances."

"That's fine, I guess. It's better than nothing," I say placing the vial on his desk. Putting it in his pocket, he stands up, opening the filing cabinet behind him. Inside it are phones of various models and brands filling it to the brim.

"Here." Tossing me a flip phone, my hands barely reacting fast enough to catch it. "You normally would've called me for something like this. What happened to the old one I gave you?"

"Had to break it. Wisteria called me, and really, I don't wanna have to deal with them again." There's only one contact saved on the phone under the name 'Mariah.' It's the same model as the one I had before, only now it's pink instead of blue, but I don't mind the change of color.

"That makes sense. How's Sayuri, by the way? You're still living with her?" he asks while stepping over bottles of cognac, opening the alcohol cabinet against the wall. For an old man with cataracts forming on his eye, it's impressive that he can move so swiftly through his own mess.

"I don't pay rent, Pook. No shit I'm still living with her."

"I was just asking, you bum. Tsk, tsk, the poor child has to deal with you every day. Don't know how she does it."

"You make it seem like it's hell to live with me."

He doesn't respond, giving me a condescending look before going back to filling his glass and taking his seat. Fucking bastard...

"Oh right, here." Taking the pack of cigarettes out of the bag beside my feet, I slide it across the desk to him.

"Huh? What are these for?"

"A late thank you gift. You took care of the body, right?"

"Body? The fuck are you on about? I haven't done that shit since the last time you fucked up."

"Huh? I'm talking about the one a couple days ago. It was in an alleyway a few blocks from here." He has to be fucking around. There's no way he didn't deal with it.

"I got no idea what you're talking about, but free cigs are free cigs, so thanks!" He's genuinely clueless about it. If he didn't get rid of the body, then who did?

The body wasn't in the alleyway when I passed by on the way here, no traces of there ever being one in the first place. The cement floor was practically brand new, not a speck of his blood found anywhere and the cracks surprisingly filled in. Whoever dealt with the body did a hell of a good job cleaning the walls, scrubbing it until the Pawn tags on them were entirely gone. They even went as far as cleaning the swampy rust off the fucking dumpster. Recalling the scene now, I don't know how I continued to be under the assumption that Pook was the one who dealt with it because, quite frankly, this person outperformed everybody Pook's ever hired combined. To outdo the man who has the best of the best on his payroll... Ain't that something?

"Forget it. If you don't know, then you don't know. It's been dealt with anyways."

"By who? Don't tell me you've been dealing with people behind my back now," he says mid lighter flick, puffing out a fresh batch of smoke to fill the air.

"Don't know who now. Thought it'd be you since it happened in Verdif, but turns out I was just being an optimist. It's either I'm being indebted by somebody for some unknown reason, or I've suffered enough to get rid of my bad streak. I'm fine with whichever one it is, to be honest."

"There it is again, that same 'I don't care' attitude. Grown ass man with the same little kid mindset. They're going to find you if you keep that shit up, but are you gonna listen to me?"

"No, the fuck," I scoff at him, picking up the bag by my feet.

"Exactly... It's all good though. I'll come get you if that ever happens. If anybody's going to exploit you for your blood, it's gonna be me," he declares a bit too proudly, taking a swig from a newly opened cognac. "Oh, and before you leave, Papa Lockett tells me that the daughter's coming back for the winter. Thought I'd tell you in case you ever wanna let her know you haven't kicked the bucket yet."

Already in front of the door, my hand just barely touches the doorknob before I freeze up. "You haven't told them anything right?"

"Not a word. Figured you should be the one to do that 'cause I sure as hell don't wanna be the one to defuse that bomb."

"Good. She's better off not knowing anyways..." If her continuing to believe that I'm dead means she won't be involved in my fucked up life, I can live on knowing I'm the scummiest organism on this planet.

"Whatever you say, kid." Yawning deeply, he leans back in his chair and closes his eyes. "Lock the door, will ya? I'ma take a quick nap while Jhenes's busy."

"Uh huh..." Closing the door without locking, I walk down the hall and down the stairs, walking through the lobby and passing by the receptionist without a word.

Realistically, there wasn't a chance in hell that he'd refuse anything that I'd asked for. He won't admit it, but Pook only continues to deal with me as a business investment. There isn't a person in Cielos who'd help someone like me in the situation I'm in without getting something in return, and being the abnormal bastard that I am, anything that I ask for is pocket change compared to what Pook earns from my blood. I prefer it like this however. Getting "free" help from anybody makes me paranoid, even more if that help comes from sketchy fucks like Pook.

"And speaking of sketchy fucks..."

Walking across the street instead of turning the corner, I've long passed the street that the apartment's on. From the moment I left Pook's place, they've been following me, trailing behind somewhere where I can't see them. It's not a gut feeling nor intuition per se, but sirens have been blaring inside my head since I started heading home, the muscles in my legs urging me to run. The inside of my chest burns, the heart inside it pounding the heaviest that it's ever had.

But more important than that, there's that smell again, a smell that shouldn't be familiar to me anymore. The smell of somebody who shouldn't be alive...

'They're near.' Abruptly ending whatever train of thought I was having, her voice sounds completely out of place over the music playing in my ears.

"They found me already? How in the fuck-"

'Like moth to a flame, a Whisperer attracts those that serve them. By nature, a Servant has the ability to sense the presence of those like them, even more so when it comes to Whisperers such as yourself. And also, don't speak out loud, you imbecile. What use is there in telepathy if you won't use it?'

'Sorry. Old habit, but continue,' I tell her, now mentally, ignoring the odd stare from a nearby homeless man passing by with his cart.

'Due to my involvement in your resurrection, I had to forcefully make you my Servant, and consequentially, made you easier to find. It's similar to the feeling you have right now, only amplified to a higher degree. They essentially roam with an internal compass guiding them to the strongest force that pulls them, that being you in this case. In all honesty, I'm quite shocked that you weren't ambushed the second you exited your abode.'

'From what you're saying, there's no point in me avoiding confrontation then, is there? I'm only running from the inevitable if I do.'

'That is true. I was hoping that with me reducing my presence in your body to almost nonexistent, you'd be able to go and come from your destination without harm, but that was all for naught. Even worse, it seems as though you've already walked into their trap before I could warn you.'

'Wait, what?' I blurt out loud, looking around while crossing yet another street.

'You haven't noticed yet? You've passed by the same organism twice, three times if you include just now." As she says this, the clashing of metal from a rickety shopping cart passes by to my left again, another homeless man in tattered clothing pushing it down the asphalt road. Giving me an odd look, he continues on his way down, and turning my head to the way he's heading, that's when I see it.

There's another of him, only a few feet ahead down the road. They walk in the same speed and in the same motion, the one behind the other clearly looking at the back of his doppelganger. It's a sight so bizarre, I have to rub my eyes and pinch myself to make sure I'm not hallucinating. And then, just as I thought things couldn't even more weirder, another one of him passes me by, waltzing down the street as if nothing is wrong.

And then another, and another, and another...

With each copy of the man walking with the same motion and timing as the one in front of them, I continue to walk down the street for forever, neither the monotone of the brick buildings on my sides nor the actual man pushing the cart changing. It's like the entire block has been copied and pasted an infinite amount of times, the just as infinite amount of homeless men down the road making that plausible. Turning the corners only leads me back to the same place.

'To put it bluntly, you're stuck,' explains Diatra as I attempt to open the door of one of the buildings. "It'd be a loop of sorts, but you mustn't worry. They'll show themselves soon. His Servants wouldn't go through the trouble of setting up a loop without confrontation."

'Hmm...'

And so, with nothing to do and nowhere to go, I took my seat on the steps of one of the brick buildings, leaning back on the hard cement as the almost methodic rattling of shopping carts passed by ever so constantly. Lulling me to a trance like state of being, I try my hardest to not to fall asleep as I wait for whoever it is that trapped me here.