Destined: 2 Be Continued

37. Be Respect

"Hey! I'm walkin' here!" some random person cried out at Silas, who was just trying to live his life.

"Yeah, well, so am I, but do you care? No," Silas muttered, not wanting to incur the wrath of the random person. He hated New York. The buildings were fine, the parks, the museums and such, all good. It was the animate objects that he had issues with.

No one had any respect for him. Granted, they didn't know that he could shoot lightning from his fingers, but still, they needed to just calm down. Like Herman, maybe. Speaking of the monkeys, they were regretting the decision as much as Silas was. Even Malarkey was disappointed.

"I wish they were dead!" Otto declared cheerfully.

"These people!" Malarkey shouted.

"I don't like New York," Herman droned. Silas had to agree with all three of them. He had recently moved to an apartment, which was his only getaway from the people of New York. It was unfortunate, however, that the old lady living in the room next to his thought that he, too, was one of the disrespectful people of New York, and hence treated him like everybody else did. 

The letter was a nice change of pace.

"Mail for a Silas Fitch?" Silas read from the back of the letter he had gotten it in his mailbox, which he checked every day, despite no one actually knowing where he was. He slowly opened it, for dramatic effect. He, like Otto, absolutely adored dramatic effect and used it whenever completely unnecessary. 

The mail was a card. It said on the front, "Special delivery" in bold black letters, but the rest of it was blank. Silas opened it curiously and almost regretted the decision.

A swirling cloud came from the card. The cloud amassed in front of Silas, then compressed itself into a human shape. In a few moments, Silas was standing in front of a Harbinger--a female one, with the Destiny of fire.

"Prepare to die, Fitch," she said, thrusting a hand out. Silas covered her hand with his, for she was quite small, and Silas was quite large. In fact, he towered greatly over her.

"Ah, a houseguest," he joked, then sent a small shock to knock her out.

The Harbinger of fire eventually woke up, trussed up with metal cables on the floor. Malarkey was the best kidnapping assistant.

"What are you going to do to me?" she asked fearfully.

"Oh, I'm either going to find amusement in you trying to escape my assistant's expert skills..." Silas pointed to Malarkey when he said "assistant." "...Or, I can set you free, you can say that you couldn't find me and I moved to another location, and we'll all mind our own business. Doesn't that sound great?" he punctuated his offer with a grin.

"I would rather die than let you live," she declared.

"Oh." 

"Let me go, or I'll burn you to death."

"No, you can only burn me if you're free, hence the statement should be 'let me go and I'll burn you to death.' Precision of language, miss."

"I'll kill you any way I can, Fitch."

"Wow. What does TG put you on? All you people, your threats, your strange ways of finding me...I have to admire your ingenuity, though. The card was pretty original."

"Will you shut up?"

"No, I don't think that's possible."

"GAAHHH!"

Silas chose the best idea would be to put some duct tape on her mouth and go for some hot chocolate at the nearest coffee shop. Maybe the farthest, actually--he wasn't in a rush to get back to the apartment any time soon.

The monkeys disguised themselves and tagged along. "Mmph! Mmph!" the Harbinger grunted after them, but they ignored her cries, closing the door behind them.

"I don't like that lady," Herman muttered.

"You don't like many people," Malarkey retorted.

"I suppose that's true," Herman droned. The monkeys and their maker walked around the city, searching for some coffee shop that they could get something to drink at. Eventually, they found one and took their time not being around that Harbinger lady. They enjoyed the time they took.

"Well, what are we going to do with the Harbinger?" Malarkey asked angrily.

"Let's untie her. She's probably sore at this time," Otto considered.

"That's a good idea. Maybe we can reason with her," Silas thought aloud. They decided on releasing her, or at least untying her.

Once they reached the apartment, the Harbinger--Silas didn't know her name, like he knew Raymond's name--began screaming at them through the duct tape. Malarkey calmly, as calmly as a monkey that only feels anger can be, untied her. She shot fire from her hands the second she could, but Otto and Herman were prepared. They grabbed her hands, just like Silas had. The fire stopped.

"I'm going to ask you for that offer again," Silas said, trying to make her stop. The Harbinger stopped trying to shoot fire and lowered her hands.

"What is your name, anyway?" he asked.

"Grace. My name's Grace. Why do you care?"

"Because I don't want to keep calling you Harbinger Lady. And your name is Grace? That's almost ironic, considering how NOT GRACIOUS you are."

"Shut up, Fitch."

"My name is Silas. Or Lemming Lenny Junior."

"What?"

"Nevermind. About our deal?" Grace sighed, then nodded. "Just let me go. I'll keep your secret."

"Good. Pleasure doing business with you." 

With that, Grace left. Silas watched her walk out of the apartment building and down the street. Silas laid down on his bed. He almost wanted to watch TV for a few hours, but he had no reason to. He just laid there, on the bed, next to his good monkey friends.

"Well, we got nothing to do right now," Silas said, reasonably uninterested with the outcome of his life choices.

"I wonder how the others are doing," Otto wondered. "Hopefully good. I don't want anything bad to happen to our friends."

"Maybe we should visit them sometime," Silas said.

"We already did," Herman reminded Silas. "Remember? I stole Heather's contact lenses." He held the shiny case up for the others to see.

"HEY! Why'd you do that?"

"The case is shiny..."

"HERMAN!" 

"Please don't deconstruct me, master.

"You better put those back the next time we see them!"

"Okay, master."