Mason Calder pulled his worn, brown coat tighter around him as the rain came pouring down. With his hands shoved into his pockets — to not only prevent his fingers from being frozen but to hide his trembling hands from what he had just endured — he could still feel the folded notebook paper that held Kylie Jones' street address and apartment number. His job? To learn her fear and bring her back to The Master.
As he emerged out of the garbage-filled alley, he stepped out onto a street that looked as if it had been abandoned many years ago. Shops lined the edge of the road, the only separation a thin, cracking sidewalk. The shops were all attached in strip mall fashion, the signs they set up above their old fashioned doors were rusting terribly. One read “Children's Cuts and Dos,” another “Tom's: Convenience Store.” Few cars paused at the stop sign on that street, the cars passing through probably figured they wouldn't see another living thing for miles. Mason walked by, turning onto a similar road, and another after that. Kylie's apartment building was only a few blocks away from The Master's lair — and he had to get there by tonight. He had only one month to learn her fear, which was either an easy task or an impossible one. Mason worked for The Fear Master. As being one of the few who was born with knowing The Master, for him through his great uncle, he also feared him. The Master personally sought these individuals out and forced them to work with him — or experience their fear to full maximum by dying in his hands. As fear is above all, these people always chose to work with him.
These people, like Mason had to do now, were given one person per month. Starting at the age of sixteen and ending the service at fifty — if you could make it through. Finding the fear was hard enough, knowing you betray them was the worst. After, you hand him over to The Master and he plays them in his own little Fear Games, possessing their fear through The Fear Code — a complicated process he used that was given to him by the devil himself.
Having just turned sixteen less than a month ago, this was Mason's first task. His great uncle, one of The Master's workers, told him the tales of the fears he learned. If he was lucky, he would get an easy one like death or spiders. His great uncle, having made it through the thirty-four years of tasks he'd endured, was somewhat creepy. Learning people's fears made him cold and untrusting, his eyes looking at you as if he was about to hand you over to Him. It seemed as if working with Him left internal scars so deep one started to lose feeling. But therefore, knowing and then fearing Him, Mason too was brought in the burden to do these tasks. In one month, he'd hopefully be handing Kylie over to Him. If only it were that easy.
He recalled his conversation with The Master. He had walked into the room behind the old, wooden door in the alley and stepped into what seemed like a dirt cave. Soil purposed as the walls, ceiling, roof, and floor. Nailed into the dirt were pictures of any fear you could imagine: puppies, heights, electronics, men, pillows, and fruit. In these pictures the person with such fear was being tortured by it in creative, terrible ways. The only furniture was a long, slanted wooden table, and behind it a man facing away from him in a black business chair.
Mason wasn't exactly sure if He used the dark trench coat look to express the love for His favorite horror movie or to scare his workers to death. Either way, it was working for him. He turned slowly — probably for dramatic effect — until he was staring right at James with dark, unfeeling eyes; eyes that weren't human in any way — they might as well have belonged to a beast. His face, however, was human. Black, buzz cut hair that met at a sharp widow's peak in the center. His face was a few days unshaven, his nose long.
“Greetings,” The Master had given a dark smile, his hands clasped together. The words still echoed in Mason's mind: “I always love to have new recruits.”
As he approached the building where Kylie lived, he prayed she would be an easy one, just so he could start this unwanted career on the right foot. The tall, brick building was only about five years old, built and made in 2007. Living in a nearby town,the opening had been a big deal. An apartment building had been much needed in their cluster of towns, and since then more have been opening. He took the elevator to the second floor, before stepping out and walking to her room — 50113. Rocking up and down on his muddy sneakers, he knocked on the white, wood door.
“Hello?” a voice from within called, followed by a sudden crashing noise like she fell over something, resulting with a string of curse words. After a few moments of recovery she spoke again, “Be there in a second.”
Any thought that this would be easy drained from his mind the second he saw her. She had blonde hair flowing down just below her shoulders, her tank top and jeans causing her to look casual but still stylish. And her bright, electric blue eyes were simply stunning to look at.
He blinked for a moment before forcing on a fake smile, “Hello, my name is Cody Wilson. Would you mind if I just came in for a moment?”
