Farmer's Market

Death's a bitter little man

It was always that dream. Not even a dream at this point, more of a memory. He remembered... dreaming. And then waking up. It was more of a hallucination, if you think about it.
He dreamed about running down a cold, marble hallway. The walls around him crumbled and revealed a pitch black darkness. And at his heel, a horrid cratures with long, stringy black hair, turning its body in all ways unnatural. So close he could feel its breath on his neck. And it pressed to him, tore into Griffin with long sharp claws, laughing at him, mocking him.
-Wake up, it hissed onto his back as he stumbled to the ground. W-a-a-ke up! And then-
-Wake up!
A real voice. A strong but warm voice.
And then he dreamed about that first night he spent at the Asylum.
Griffin opened his eyes and saw a figure in front of him. The room was dark, he was laying on a couch, covered in blankets. The man in front of him looked at him in a curious manner, then smiled warmly.
-How do you feel? he asked.
The other almost choked on his words. There was really no way to tell that one nicely.
-My whole body hurts, he replied. His voice was rough and scratchy. But I'm not cold anymore.
-I was hoping you'd say that, he chuckled softly. You remember how you got here?
Griffin shook his head.
-I don't know that either, but I can tell you what happened after you arrived here, he grinned.
-What's your name? interrupted the other.
-Oh! Salvador Vincent. You?
-Jackson Claude Griffin.
Salvador nodded and repeated it.
-So. About... how I came here.
-Well, Salvador hesitated, you knocked on my door repeatedly. I opened it to find you sitting on my porch, with no jacket whatsoever, in just a sweater. I let you come inside. Honestly, that seemed like the only option. You stumbled in, reeking of alcohol, and somehow managed to stand up just enough to throw up in my kitchen sink. You seemed... really fixated on the concept of taking over the world.
He sighed, and then continued.
-That's when I noticed you were covered in blood. So, I helped you get to this couch. And let me tell you, -he shook his head- I wasn't sure if you passed out or fell asleep. Also, your sweater was absolutely drenched from snow. I gave you a new one of mine, hope you don't mind.
Griffin felt himself burn with embarrassment. He also couldn't help but wonder just how tall Salvador was. He was a pretty tall guy, and yet the sweater on him seemed to fit more like a dress. The other man had knelt next to the couch, and still seemed to tower above Griffin quite a bit and- Wait a second.
-Did you say blood? he asked, incredulously.
-Yeah. I think you still have some on your hands. I was hoping you could tell me what's the deal with that.
The other squinted. He had... no idea.
-I can't remember, he confessed. Honestly, I can't even remember why I'm here.
-That's ok, shrugged Salvador. I was expecting that.
Griffin stood up shakily, and tried to pace the room slowly.
-Why did you let me in? he finally asked. I was covered in blood and incoherent. You could've left me there. I could've killed you.
-Believe me, Salvador smiled as he straightened himself and stood up, towering above Griffin by at least a foot. You couldn't have killed me even if you tried. Now, he said as he gently guided the other back to the couch, be a dear and try not to pass out again. I'm gonna heat you up some soup, it'll help. You might be hypothermic, and in that case-
The sentence was cut off abruptly by Griffin waking up in the empty house. He looked around, memories of the past hour washing over him. The intruders. His... experiment. And Salvador- his eyes stung as he thought about it. He might be dead. He's... most probably going to die. He looked over to a nearby table, and got up slowly.
Griffin felt like his legs might give out from under him. He reached out to... a glass jar, with a light green tint. The one that belonged to Salvador. He swallowed dryly as he sat back on the couch, with the jar in his hands, and tried not to break into tears.
***
Meanwhile, in the other part of the city, Lady Alligator and the other folks were basically going through the 5 stages of grief trying to find out what the found documents meant.
The documents were real. It was supposed to be simple. It seemed simple. But it still wasn't.
"I, Wendy Quincey, on behalf of my family, my husband and my kids, and the people I have foolishly convinced to offer me help, regret to inform you of the following: The papers you are looking for do not exist. Forget about everything you have learned about them, and for the love of God, go home."
The paper was old and yellowed, the librarian was confused, and Lady Alligator was fuming.
-I can't believe it! she whispered-shouted. The nerve of this woman!
-This can't be it, stated Monday. It's another code. They're trying to discourage us, to see if we want to go through with it.
-How do you know? asked Pygmalion, browsing a nearby rack of books. Maybe it's just a waste of time. I've seen a few of those in my lifetime, y'know.
-Maybe Salvador or Griffin can help, suggested Toby. We should go home since we're done here. Take the document too.
The Lady sighed and slumped in her seat, then streched and got up.
-I suppose you're right. Come on, let's go home.
They were in for... quite a surprise.
Griffin, looking worse than ever, sat huddled in a corner of the couch and was searching something on his laptop. He had been looking for cases or files, anything to help give even the slightest idea of where could Salvador get taken. No luck, no trace. Nothing was found, except for a few cases of missing artefacts or robberies.
The Lady stepped in the almost empty house and looked around. She patted Griffin's shoulder and, without noticing the pained look he gave her, asked:
-Where's Salvador?
To preserve what dignity he has left, we'll rather not describe how Griffin broke down while telling what happened. You already know the story anyways.
Speaking of which, Salvador woke up in the back of an unknown car. No big deal, he'd done it before. Thing is, now he was unarmed and felt very sick.
-You alive back there? came the crude question from the front seat.
The one who spoke was a girl with wavy blue hair. Her skin was dark, except for the pale spots around her eyes and on the lower side of her face. That was Rabbit, who took her mask off because she insisted she couldn't drive with it, and who also couldn't care less who saw her and the other masked person beside her.
Salvador sighed
-Let's cut through the part where you try to intimidate me, he spoke. Just tell me how you'll kill me and get it over with.
-We're not here to kill you, piped up Cat. I told you! Bones just wants to talk. It's really important.
The other rolled his eyes. Oh, sure Bones was going to talk. Probably while fighting him. Probably about what a "terrible" idea he made when he left the mafia.
His line of thought was interrupted by the car stopping abruptly in front of a dark building. In the middle of the forest. Ohoho, he's been here before.
They stepped out of the car, and Cat opened his arms dramatically.
-Welcome, to la casa de pape- ow!
Rabbit elbowed him hard in the ribs.
-For the love of God, she hissed. Stop making that damn reference!
She made a gesture as if trying to push Salvador by the back of his neck, but stopped when she realised how stupid that would look.
They entered the house, which seemed abandoned at first glance. Their footsteps echoed in the empty hallways, until they reached an old, rusty elevator-looking chamber.
Had it been the first time he made that walk, Salvador would have been worried the elevator would give out. That wasn't the case though.
Bones worked underground. Quite literally.
As the elevator ride came to an end, a wide hallway streched in front of them. A few men were talking to eachother, mainly in small groups, and it seemed that everybody avoided any sort of eye contact with anybody else. A tall, wooden black door stood at the end of the hallway. Salvador was rudely shoved into the room, and the door closed behind him. It was only then the truly remembered that his arms were tied behind, and he felt quite uneasy.
In front of him, on a table, rested a skull. A human skull.
Salvador rolled his eyes at it.
-Come on, Bones. Stop the show. Come out.
A thin smoke filled the room, and the skull erupted in blue flames. It raised above the table, the smoke coming together to form a humanoid form beneath it. The man in front of Salvador now had ash black skin, and curly white hair falling a bit over the skull he seemed to wear as a mask.
He wore a white shirt with red suspenders, and held a wooden cane.
That, was Bones. Mafia leader, professional Grim Reaper, Bringer of Death.
-Long time no see, he smiled.