Space-Time of Death: an Al Squires of the Protectorate Novel

Ch. 1.3: Three Classic Horror Tropes for the Price of One

Ding!

We entered the well-kept and exceptional lobby of the Mannimore Arms Apartment Building as soon as the elevator doors opened. We were just a few steps in when Norah stopped me. "Do you want to turn it off now?" she began to ask me softly, "Or should we begin when we're outside."

"Let me do this right now," I answered in an equally soft voice. "It'll take a few (subjective) minutes for the loss of the force-field to take full effect; especially if we're going out in a broad area. Plus, it'll allow the weirdness to show up all the faster."

"Whatever you say," Norah said, still sounding as if she didn't believe me. She then subtlety nodded to my wrist.

"Alright, alright," I said as I took the hint. I then pressed the deactivation commands on the emitter. A couple of moments later, it made a faint whining noise as it powered down before making itself visible again.

"You know, as I keep seeing it," Norah said as she looked at the emitter, "I have to admit that you were right to make it invisible. It is a bit tacky."

"Well, it was originally Protectorate surplus," I said to her as I struggled to put the sleeve over the emitter. "They made it for function, not fashion. Unfortunately, messing with the design affected the integrity of the force field; so, I had to make do. Anyway, I can't do anything about it when the emitter's powered down." Failing to successfully put sleeve over the emitter, I then placed my hand in one of my coat pockets to hide it. "So, let's get going," I said to her as I gestured with my free hand. "Those sea-salted cashews and organic blue corn tortilla chips aren't going to get themselves." Norah nodded as we walked over to the front desk.

As usual at this time, Gruk, the building's super and nighttime doorman is manning (or, seeing as he's an Orc, I should say 'orcing') the front desk. His doorman uniform was as stretched across his stocky and solid frame as ever. Even though he's starting to get flabby in some parts from lack of combat, his physique is still in optimum condition for a warrior. Even if he left that life when he defected. But that's another story.

"Evenin' Al, Missh Norah," Gruk greeted us as we walked towards the desk. He gave us both an Orcish salute of respect- beating over his heart twice- as soon as he saw us. That's a sign of great respect in Orc custom; the sign of a warrior acknowledging another warrior, regardless of being from another species or not. He was with me when he saw Norah catch that hundred Omnibuck note of mine with just two fingers as it drifted in the breeze. Since then, he's done this out of respect for her. As for me, he knew of my skill in martial arts when he was still in the field. Again, another story.

"Sho, how'sh da pokah game goin'? he asked, his speech impeded as always by the tusks the size of overripened plantains that were ever protruding from his lower lip.

"That kind of depends, Gruk, my old Battle-Brother," I said with a sigh as I returned the salute while giving him a traditional Orcish greeting between friends. "On which one of us you ask," I added as I pointed a thumb over to Norah.

"I've won twice tonight," Norah said to Gruk just as she took my cue. "And I beat him at our last hand by bluffing him with only a pair of sixes. He's a little upset by this."

"Understatement of the evening," I quipped with a huff. "I'm entitled to be upset."

"Well, congratsh and condolenshes to yas, in dat order." Gruk said to us both before changing the subject. "Led meh guess why ya down here: shnack run, huh?"

"Ding, ding! And the Orcish gent wins a cigar," I said with a smirk. "Seeing that Norah is the newbie of our group; she has to be the one to get them." I paused to let out a sigh. "And since she's new to Omniopolis, I was voted in to be her guide/safety buddy."