THREE

The Ink

Shed and John stood staring at me. Whenever we work together, they usually let me take the lead. Shed does it so that he can’t be held accountable for the bodies he so often leaves in his wake. John does it so that he can keep an eye out for any bodies he might miss, to ensure he leaves them in his. I’m fine with this. I have a harder time accepting direction than giving it, and since I’m generally always right, it works out. Ego aside, I’m not always right; but admitting that would be like admitting that I’m not the most awesome human being ever to grace the planet, and that just isn’t going to happen.

“Based on her suit and the direction she ran, chances are good she works at either the Court House, or The Tower” Shed said, bringing me back to the present.

“Yeah, uh, the Court House isn’t too happy with me right now” said John, scratching the back of his neck. “They’re still cleaning all the viscera from my last visit”.

Shed turned to look at the gigantic skyscraper a few blocks away. “Tower it is, then. Let it be known that this is a Bad Idea”. He followed it up with a “Dun, dun, dunnnnn!” sound effect.

I wasn’t all that thrilled, either. The Tower is home to the coldest, most powerful business giants operating on Flip Side. Not just the Des Moines flipside, but anywhere in the world. The kinds of businesses where killing people who get in their way, regardless of right or wrong, was not only common but standard procedure likely written in the handbook for all new employees.

Business who have no qualms putting families out of homes, letting children starve in sweat shops, and laundering the money they use to pay overseas factories go pale at the thought of crossing a businessman from The Tower. All of them have personal security forces that rival those of Heaven and Hell, Valhalla, and any of the alien embassies. Some of them apparently even recruit from those places. This wasn’t going to be easy. Chances were good that it was going to be violent and messy. But hey, you have to start somewhere.

“Lets stop by my office. I think I’ll want a weapon along for this one”. I turned and strode back toward my building, not waiting for a response. The simple fact that I felt the need for a weapon was almost a portent of doom in itself. I rarely carry one, because I never feel the need. The guys followed close behind me.

“We should probably hit up Capital Inves-” I stopped short, surprised and confused. My companions stared at me in question.

“My hand” I explained, massaging the new arrow tattoo. “It hurts”.

“That’s not possible” Shed said in a lowered voice. “Not since Tesla in Osaka”.

“Obviously, but I mean…” I rubbed my hand and slapped at it hoping to numb it, to no avail. I flexed it a few times, which seemed to help. “It’s a runic T, I have others like it in my engravings but those don’t hurt. Forget it, let’s just keep going”.

John shrugged, satisfied that I wasn’t going to be a baby about it, and continued on. If I wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it, he certainly wasn’t going to put forth any effort to. What are friends for, and all that.

John bobbed his head to the Facecage song that assaulted us through the elevator speakers as we traveled up to my office. The pain in my hand continued to ramp up. As before, the door opened lower than it should have, this time by almost two feet. I grabbed my phone and texted my landlord, asking her to come down for a little chat, took down my defensive wards, and invited the guys in.

“I gotta use the can, man” John said, walking toward the corner.

“Dude, turn on the screen!” Shed shouted as John dropped his pants. “Nobody wants to see that again. Like, ever!”

I grunted, trying to ignore the growing pain, and focused my attention on the sword leaning against one of the bookshelves. I’d never wielded it in battle. As I said, I rarely feel the need to carry weapons. The Tower, however, was no place to be without backup ways to kill. I was told when I acquired this blade that it was the fabled Tyrfing. It has called to me since then, an ever present hum in my mind whenever I was near it. More importantly, the closer I drew now, the more the pain in my hand lessened.

That warranted more consideration, but I didn’t have time at the moment.

The corner of Shed’s mouth twitched up when he saw that I was considering bringing Tyrfing. “Still afraid of it?”

“I was never afraid of it. I was just… wary of it. I mean they told us it was Tyrfing, the sword of Odin’s grandson, Svarfrlami. It should never miss a stroke, never scratch or rust, and should cut through anything. It’s certainly never rusted or needed any maintenance from me, but I get this vibe from it. Like it has a bloodlust, or something. It wants to kill”.

“That’s because it was cursed”.

“You never told me that” I said, looking sideways at him.

“Every time you unsheathe the blade, it must kill. That’s why it banished to the flipside. We kill in our line of work though, so I don’t see the problem. The curse apparently also has a stipulation that it be the case of three Great Evils, two of which have not yet been recorded. You were told this when it was presented to you. You apparently weren’t listening” shed finished, cocking his head to consider me.

“That should come in handy, then!” exclaimed John, buckling his belt as he strode up to us. “Killing is the right attitude for a weapon to have” he nodded, grinning. He was really gearing up for what was to come.

“I wrote it off as a legend” I offered weakly, ignoring John. “Master Tesla was a bit kooky, you have to agree. If it’s so bad, why was it given to me instead of kept in protective custody? I’m not black-hearted evil, but I’m extremely gray”.

“Exactly. Now,” Shed agreed, then pointed at my hand, changing the subject. “When did your new tattoo start glowing?”

I looked down. There was a slight pulsing of blue coming from the arrow symbol in my skin. Unlike my forearm tattoos that only glow when I fight - or am in danger, this light seemed to throb in time with jolts of pain. It had been years since I’d experienced pain, and I was having a hard time getting used to it.

“That’s new. Well, newer. The pain lessons the closer I get to Tyrfing, though”.

“A cosmic sign!” John offered sarcastically. He was impatiently heading for the door. “Now let’s get going, I want to hit something”.

“The hell with it” I said, and grabbed the sword. The blade slipped from the scabbard as I lifted it, and the sheathe fell to the floor. As I turned, I accidentally brought Tyrfing out in front of me - and stabbed my landlady through the heart.

“Oops…”

She’d apparently let herself in while we were talking. My wards and other protections don’t apply to her, though neither I nor any security company I’d ever brought in - scientific or otherwise - could figure out why.

“Awkward…” John muttered. “Guess the curse is true? I’m gonna go play a game while you get this sorted. Let me know when we can head out, dudes”.

I stood staring at the body slouching on the blade, and realized I’d been staring for minutes as I heard Modern Warfare 3k boot up at the other end of the room. I tried to play back my actions in my head. My tattoo had been glowing, the pain throbbing, and I wanted to get a move on. I grabbed the sword, but then what?

I glanced at Shed who was looking at my landlord and I, completely unimpressed with the whole affair. I resented him a little right then, as a certain panic began to build slowly inside of me. I might not get along with my landlord, but I never wanted to kill her. I must have been thinking slowly, as I could hear that John was already in a multiplayer match.

“What just happened?” I asked, my breath cutting short.

“I didn’t see your draw coming, so you’ve apparently improved since Japan” Shed offered. “I didn’t hear your landlord arrive either, and that in itself is impressive. I am not supposed to be able to be caught by surprise, after all. I suppose there are exceptions to ever rule? In any event, what happens now, Lloyd?”

Before I could respond a vibrant blue light burst forth from the arrow tattoo and a searing pain at a level I could not remember ever having experienced shot up my arm. The light seemed to bend itself toward Tyrfing’s blade. My vision skewed both forward and back, while my body felt ripped in two. I was both outside and within myself, and I was not enjoying the experience. When the light finally touched the blade my vision snapped back and the sword disappeared. My landlady’s body crumpled to the floor.

“That looked sweet!” John said, peering over his shoulder from the couch. The sound of gunfire burst out of my surround sound setup. “Fuck!” he shouted, turning back to the TV. “Fucking twelve-year old noobs!” He powered off the console in annoyance and walked back over to us.

Shed’s forehead showed the hint of a crease on his otherwise emotionless face, the only sign that he was thinking. “What did you feel, just now?”

“Like I was being torn apart” I answered numbly. Shed hummed the theme to the Twilight Zone as I stared at the body on my floor and wondered what I was going to do about it. If it seems odd that we were all so calm, there’s a certain sociopathic apathy that accompanies death on the flipside. The world works differently here, and the almost Darwinian concepts of survival long ago replaced any kind of society based morals from the real world. I think in the end, those of us who spent too much time here became sociopaths.

“Thats what I thought” he said, stopping his tune. “I felt something similar when I first drew Kiraa” Shed explained, using the layman name for his katana, Satsujinsha. “Though I didn’t go all double-bodied like you just did. A samurai’s sword is said to be his soul and for good reason - it is. Your experience was different, though. I’m guessing that your soul is instead bound to your blade. Perhaps that is why it was given to you, instead of a traditional katana?”

“Before I can wrap my head around any of that, we need to figure out what to do about-” I stopped short, looking down. There was no body on my floor. Instead, standing in front of me as I raised my eyes back up, was my landlady. Annoyance was written all over her face.

“Well? What do you want?” she snapped, her Russian accent rearing it’s head.

“Um” I stuttered, surprised. “The elevator is broken again?”

“Tch, is fine, it just has character”.

“How did you… What just…” As I said earlier: eloquent.

She gave me the same look Charon had when I asked about the Oar - the kind that let me know the world considered me slow. “This is my building. The building is me”.

Okay, creepy. I decided not to ask about that last part, and made a mental note to consider looking into other office space in the future. Something told me if I asked, I’d find out she was being literal, and that I’ve been living inside my landlady all this time. That was a disturbing thought. I mean, I’ve done things in here. Things I would never want to do inside my landlady.

“Well then, we best be on our way. Please fix… yourself? So the elevator works again” I requested, making my way to the door.

Shed and John followed suit, either arriving at the same conclusion about questioning her choice of words, or not caring. I rather wished I’d had an actual elephant in the room, so I’d have had something to talk about as I brought my wards back up and hopped down into the elevator. I considered getting one as we rode down in silent.

I breathed easier once we were back on the street. I could think out here.

“Alright. I feel pain when I can’t feel pain. I killed my landlady with a sword that must kill when drawn, except she apparently is also a building and didn’t die. Then my sword, which may also be my soul, disappeared. I have a tattoo I never got, and have to find a room that doesn’t exist. We’re off to a good start and I’m not going crazy” I finished, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Time will tell. We should get ourselves to The Tower before shifts change, as that would be our best bet at finding someone who knows the girl we’re seeking” responded Shed.

“Works for me” I sighed and let it go. “We can hit up the security desk outside Capital Investments first. They’re the most friendly of the bunch, if friendly were a term you could apply to any aspect of that place” I said with a sigh, as we turned and headed east toward The Tower.

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