The Song of the Serpentine Angel

2 | Perchance

Chicago IL

December 7th, 1978

Venuch hadn't bothered to check the address on the slip of the paper until the day when Azzozas told him to meet him. He stared at the address on the form as he reclined on his couch. He'd read it nearly ten times to be sure he was reading it right and not somehow high off his ass (and if he was high off his ass he was sure it had something to do with Azzozas and his cursed meddling). He read the writing one more time just to be sure he hadn't snapped and lost his mind because it sure felt like he'd lost a few screws. The note read, in neatly written cursive:

Ask for Nikita Petrov at Sunshine CO.

Nikita Petrov was the name of the CEO of Sunshine CO. He was some eccentric Russian-American that had appeared out of the blue in '75 and rose into being the CEO in a little less than three months. Nobody in the entire building trusted the man — mostly because he was Russian, and many mortals feared the dangers of the "Red" as he'd found — because he supposedly gave off "snake" vibes. Venuch, being on the lower end of jobs there, had seen neither hide nor hair of the man and preferred to keep it that way. He was not about to be alienated at the job he worked at for ten years because mortals were afraid of some silly ideology by the name of Communism or whatever. He was too old to be worried about things like that.

But, as he stared at the name Nikita Petrov, he began to wonder if he should've taken that job at Walmart he'd seen in the newspaper. Venuch would've liked to have spent his off day sipping at the (definitely not stolen) pink Perignon that lay tucked above his fireplace as opposed to staring directly into the mouth of a snake that could snuff him out like a candle in moments.

Fate was oft a cruel mistress, as was the inexorable march of time.

﹝•••﹞

After getting dressed and pretending he didn't feel like a lamb sent to the slaughter, Venuch left for the building. The Sunshine CO. logo seemed to glare down at him as he approached. It was normally at this time when he'd be leaving work to go home, and he was doing the exact opposite of that at this present moment. He heaved a sigh as he walked through the glass doors and, at the drop of a hat, his exhausted expression melted into the placid expression that he normally wore when he was at work to avoid the "Why are you always so mad?" questions.

Some people just have the so-called "Resting angry face", Bethany.

The office building was quite active despite it being a Thursday. He waved at coworkers, giving them polite smiles as he passed. Venuch didn't hate them if he were to be honest, but work was very overwhelming for him on occasion. They'd embraced his habit of snatching that which wasn't his as a part of him and hadn't alienated him because of it. He usually did give back what he'd stolen. Venuch was pulled out of his thoughts by one of his co-workers stopping him before he could enter the elevator.

Venuch raised an eyebrow at the brunette man he'd come to know as Raymond (everyone in the building called him Ray, however) smiled up at him. "Afternoon, John!" He said, "What are you doing here? Isn't it your day off?"

He sighed, pressing the highest number on the elevator. "I'm meeting with the head of this operation."

He'd never seen a mortal's face pale as much as Ray's had. Venuch frowned at the look on the shorter man's face. "What's your deal?" he questioned, watching as Ray's face twisted in what he could only assume to be apprehension. Ray said nothing for a long moment, and it was beginning to annoy him, he'd rather not be late to speak to Nikita Petrov in case it would somehow upset Azzoza, andd he'd love to avoid doing such a thing.