Black Monster

‘Hi Balinder,’ Emma said pushing past the woman. ‘Is there a reason the leak hasn’t been fixed?’

The pasty woman turned on her, ‘there is no leak! Don’t go stirring things up again, everytime you visit it’s the same, just becuase you get to work outside doesn’t mean the sun shines out of your back side.’ Balindar stormed around to a long desk – the kind you would expect to find in a hotel or data centre. She glared at Emma. ‘Do you have an appointment?’

Emma quirked her eyebrow, ‘No of course I don’t’

‘Then you are in for a long wait’ the woman smirked. Emma know that the other woman was pretty much stuck down here, it would drive her potty but Balinda had just gotten snarky well more snarky about things.

‘Let them know I am here at least.’ Emma snapped. Balinda made a meal of the processes, her bottle green suit looked like it had been boil washed, it was shiny and threadbare. She would have to bring up Balinda as a topic as well as the roof she tried to sigh internally but Balinda cuaght it and gave her a cheerfully malignant grin.

She fairy stepped to the door, a pink front door surrounded by a dark brown scolloped door frame. It seemed so out of place it was like a fairy land down here – a fairy land of monsters Emma thought. She tugged slightly on her braid, it helped wake her up the half light and the clammyness seemed to inlist a stupor in her. The woman was purposely taking an age, Emma realised she was grinding her teeth. Her breath seemed to mist around her even though it was not really that cold down here and compared to outside at this time of year it was probably *warm* it just never felt that way to her. She knew she mustn’t start shivering as soon as that started she wouldn’t stop.

Time always seemed surreal and slowed in this place and now it was grinding away at her nerve endings, an old fashioned clock, heavy in white and silver frame hung on the wall, tick… tick… tick… the sound was beginning to bore its way through her skull. Finally the door creaked open again Balinda had two red marks along her jaw line, someone had taken too many liberties and had caused a master to be angry. They would yellow or possibly even purple into little egg shaped bruises.

‘You may go straight through,’ the woman said with no expression, none at all. Emma carefully avoided catching eyes that were too downcast to catch anyway.

Beyond the door it was warmer, the air smelt of salt, the briney tinge you’d expect of the sea. It was darker too with blue rippling light swirling around the outline of another door way. She crossed the space jingerly knowing that boxes of equipment were often stored there. The entrance way led to a lab, a large tank of warmed water sloshed in the middle, she half expected the Master to arise from it but he didn’t. ‘Welcome’ he said in a strange nasal whisper. His skin was mottled and some how smooth with fat, a small jaw with a flat noise with slitey nostrals in it, eyes that were human but too large for his face and a broad forehead. He was long and gangly, you would be mistaken for thinking him a burns victim, so almost human. But there was an otherness there, she’d thought he was an alien, when they had first met, the fabled grey of Rosewell. He lifted one webbed hand and gestered to a fizzing and hissing machine in the corner. ‘Coffeee is almosssst reeeady’ strange clicks seemed to punctuate his words.

She bowed her head, ‘Master..’ she begain he waved the title away irratably, ‘I have been following up on the cult deaths of the girls and there is a problem…’ he turned his bright blue eyes on her, ‘there is a silica residue found at a series of lab and industrial brake ins. It looks like optronics to me.’ He stared at her and then blinked twice in rapid succession.

‘Inteeeresting,’ he hummed deep in his through and then spoke again, ‘but that isss not what you weeere supposeed to be inveeestigaatinnnnng.’ It was not an accussations just a statement. She sighed.

‘There is another issue with just how I found this out but it does appear to be linked to the girls disappearences’ again the strange humming and a few short curt nods. ‘But I have a girl who has only just vanished we are trying to track her down and there are patterns, the sort that occur when people are trying to avoid patterns.’ The nods again.

The coffee machine hissed a cluncked into a burbling life that made seem to have been dormant before hand, ‘ah coffeee, wee shall drink,’ He bustled about almost ignoring her. She became awear that others were in the room, silently working at benches, bent over petri dishes and microscopes. They came forward in a quietly chittering crowd to retrieve coffee from the machine. They were a mix of human and Master, all looked pale and seemed to have a hunger for the sun above their dark dank domain.

A chipped mug saying ‘Best GrandMa’ on it was thrust into her hand. And she was ushered to a cluster of delapodated sofas the other side of the tank. She sank gratefully into the slightly mouldering fabric and wrapped her fingers around the porcaline to warm them up.

‘You have been too long aaawayy’ he patted her as if she was a small child. He was strangly chasrasmatic and she always felt as if she was under some kind of spell when she spoke to him. He she knew was not just any Master he was the Arcetect, he was in charge and as far as she could tell was probably humanities best chance of survivial. He was also the reason she was still alive.

‘I…’ she begain trying desperatly to think of an excuess.

‘Shhh doo not lieee to mee’ He shrugged and laughed, it was a brittle sound that went suddenly supernova with all the lung capacity of a walrus. ‘Yooou hate it dooown heeer. Most oof usss do but you must nooot stayyy awayy soo long.’ He placed his coffee down on the plastic crate that was doubling as a coffee table and fumbled for something next to the seat. Emma saw the suringe come up and went to move but found smiling minions in white coats gently but firmly holding her in place, her cup was prised from her fingers. And her arm dosed in some strong smelling antisceptic fluid, its acridness filled her nostrils she felt the panic make that smell burn her. Rapid breathing and the inner fight, to struggle and risk more damage from a stabbed needle rather than a well timed injection.

A fire punched her in the arm, she felt wooze but was aware of them attatching a canuliar to her hand, she slumped a slurred ‘Bastards’ escaped as concousness fled.

Posted: Sunday, November 18th, 2012 @ 11:32 am
Categories: Uncategorized.
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