The Bondsman (a King Dice x Reader story)

Chapter Five: A Favor

Song: Inkwell Hell by Kristofer Maddigan

     The wind was cooler than usual. Inkwell was always very brisk around the spring months, but there was something else present any time you crossed to the wrong side of the tracks. There was a stillness, there. A chilling, frigid stillness that crept up your spine as you would descend into the cave's mouth leading to Inkwell Hell.

     It was a horrible feeling; A hellish feeling.

     You were relieved to be out of it, making sure to quicken your pace as you crossed the rails and back into the safety of Isle Three. The city was bustling with citizens, each caught up in their own world as they bumped and scrambled past you. You barely caught yourself as someone jostled by, nearly knocking you over. A police siren rang out in the distance, and there was a metallic tang in the air.

     It would rain soon.

     Everything felt so...tense. Then again, that could just be you.

     You shivered as you gathered your thoughts, pulling your trench-coat tighter around your body as the wind picked up, leaflets of paper swirling past as they got caught in the sudden gust. You would need to drop by your apartment to collect a few things before going after these cups. Most debtors had their own forms of magic or special abilities. If the checkbook back at the casino was right about these fellas, it was better to be prepared than caught in the crossfire with your slacks down.

     Hopefully it wouldn't take long to get everything together and you could have them wrapped up and back in Scratch's possession by nightfall.

     Hopefully.

     The crowd began to thin out as you got closer to your building: a large, dark figure looming over its shorter companions in the distance. It was one of the tallest on the Isle, and your room was located only a few floors below the tippy-top. It made quite the hike when the elevators were out-of-order, which was unfortunately the case more often-than-not, but boy did it have a great view. Thankfully, the elevators weren't out today, and you were able to take them up to your floor no problem. You swung your keys around your finger as you approached your door, humming some odd tune you had picked up along the way home as you fiddled with the lock.

     You let out a breath of relief as you entered, content to be in a familiar space.

     There wasn't much to your apartment now that you lived alone. After your mother had left, it had just been you and your father for a while. Now it was just you. You hadn't really taken the time to redecorate.

     There were still plenty of dusty filing cabinets all over the place, and a cork board was fastened to the wall, accompanied by dozens of red strings, thumb-tacks, and hand written notes. Half of those cases were likely outdated by now, either solved or run cold. The kitchen hadn't seen a new appliance or dish in at least a decade, and the lights tended to flicker when they were left on for too long.

     Not exactly the Ritz...but it was home.

     You gently set your briefcase down on the kitchen table, letting your gaze fall across the hall and onto your bedroom door.

     What you wouldn't give for a nap right now.

     You couldn't. You had a job to do.

     Your eyes followed the length of the wall to another door; this one dark and out of place compared to the rest. There was a large, fogged window in the center, accented by golden lettering arched across the top of the glass that read:

Lawrence Straightway

Private Detective