A Guard's life

Once more, with feeling!

A/N:
Merry "birth of the guy that got nailed so hard he died" everyone! Man, another hecking year done. This is my third christmas chapter? Three of them, holy shit.
Except this isn't focused on christmas, for the timeline's sake. I wish I could have, but you can't win them all, am I right? :v
EITHER WAY, ENJOY!

Oh, also, GOOD NEWS, THIS ONE WAS ACTUALLY BETA READ! HUGE SHOUTOUT TO AsiawasiaLP FOR THAT ONE!

-

If a day starts bad, you always have two options. Three actually.
Either you decide to approach the rest of the day with a defensive mindset, dealing with the shitty reality and pushing back before anything more could happen... or you could go into the day with a positive mindset, try to assume the worst has passed and the rest of the day could now go smoothly, influencing it for the positive.
Yeah, right or go back to bed, but that wasn't that easy, was it?
And as the ENLIGHTENED, MODERN MAN that Mike was, you can probably guess what he was doing!
Having his whole day ruined about basically nothing and growling at everyone!
What a smart man he is.
Currently he was trying to, uh- "help" a customer.
"For the last fucking time." He took a deep breath. "The cheese on our pizza is made from fucking MILK. Normal fucking MILK. We don't have GOAT CHEESE, ESPECIALLY NOT GOAT CHEESE THAT WAS HANDMADE BY MOUNTAIN-FUCKING-MAIDEN! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT EVEN. I DON'T KNOW WHAT GLUTEN IS, I DON'T KNOW WHAT EFFECT VEGAN FLOWERS HAVE ON THE QUALITY OF THE-"
The guy was nodding, then shaking his head. "But do you have ANY respect for the ENVIRONMENT-"
This was the point where Mike lost it, feeling an EERIE sense of deja-vu that he couldn't explain. "NO. I DON'T. I PERSONALLY WOULD STICK MY DICK UP MOTHER NATURE'S-"
A few step away, at the entrance of the door to the office, Juliette and Phone Guy stood, watching him, Simon with sorrow, while the woman simply seemed interested.
"... Scott, is he often screaming at thin air?" She asked, casually.
"Uh. Define... often." It hesitantly came back. "... usually, I uh... let him do his thing, he tends to calm down after that for the rest of the day."
"Huh." Not much of a reaction. "... I suppose it is good that we take away the head in our procedure. It would be bad if these... unhappy habits... carried over to our staff."
Uncomfortably Simon stepped away a little.
Juliette only smiled though. "What seems to be the problem, Scott? You know as well as me that he will not be around for long. He doesn't have... the certain something. And with certain something I mean common sense."
"Nobody with common sense would even, uh- work here. And I- it's not-" It was scary to try and speak up against her. She could lose her temper and deem him faulty. "... not everyone is cut out to be a Phone Guy." Instead he mumbled.
"You're right." Her eyes wandered over to the two younger members of the staff, her expression becoming a little more sorrowful. "... but in the end, it is neither of our choices, is it? We can only work with the fate we are given."
Slowly and defeated Phoney nodded.
"Well, that's a load of fucking bullshit."
As Mike made an appearance, suddenly right next to them, both of them jumped, Juliette almost hiding behind Simon.
Distressed Juliette stared at him, while talking to Simon. "... Scott, does he OFTEN appear out of nowhere-?"
"Stop fucking calling him Scott you NUMBNUT." Really, he had NO energy left for bullshit.
"What an interesting inquiry!" Juliette stepped back aside, to give him a glare that fell short due to the shades she was wearing. It was a good attempt nonetheless. "Too bad it is phrased in the dumbest way and thus not worth my time. Imagine being clever enough to use kind phrasing and politeness to ensure the success of your plans."
"Yeah, imagine. Also, fucking imagine not being a passive aggressive cunt and to just be fucking honest about being pissed off, like a FUCKING NORMAL PERSON."
"Actually, while we have this chat, may I ask if you have Tourette?"
"I HAVE A RIGHT TO SAY FUCK IN EVERY OTHER SENTENCE."
"No you don't!" She smiled. "Not if we make it against policy."
Phone Guy was mildly stressed out in the background.
As chaos always attracted more chaos, suddenly Orange Guy's voice sounded. "Ooooooooooh, the girls are FIGHTINNNNNNNG!"
Sliding right in on his heelies, he interrupted their intense staring duel.
Now they BOTH stared him down, but he T-posed in defense, acting like nothing was wrong. "What are you guys doing?"
Phone Guy tried to save the situation. "We, uh- y'know. We're talking about... things."
Now all three people stared at Phone Guy for different reasons, prompting him to shrink away.
There was a weird sort of smile on Old Sport's face. As if he was getting ready for a hilarious prank.
Well- not exactly. Simon knew what the Orange Guy looked like when he was up to no good. That wasn't really the face he had right now.
It had a bit of a manic glow, not the more innocent chaotic stupidity it tended to have. He leaned back and slipped his hands into his pockets, prompting the Phone Guy's fight or flight instincts to trigger.
"Things? I like things. I actually GATHER things. Do go on!"
Kindly Juliette smiled. "No, Old Sport. We are talking about business things."
"Ah. Bummer. Maybe you find better things to talk about, later. I have plenty of great things to show though!"
"We, uh- we don't want to see them." Panicked Phoney stepped closer, regretting it the same second.
Old Sport snickered. "Okay then, your loss."
For a moment the other man waited, anxious, thinking his employee would turn on him within a split second, taking out whatever weapon he was carrying around and bringing him to his very sudden and very pointless end.
Yet... no. Nothing happened.
Nothing at all.
The Orange Guy just shrugged, smiled and passed them.
Slowly he breathed out, relieved-
Then a sudden feeling of deep seated terror grabbed him right in his core.
A feeling of fear, so strong that he for a moment thought he would have to throw up.
Every muscle in his body turned to stone and he was glad he didn't have a tongue anymore, because he would have bitten right through it in that moment if it was only a LITTLE misplaced.
He could swear it smelled like blood and rot.
Next to him Juliette did have a similar reaction, suddenly turning away and almost going to her knees, hugging herself, nails vanishing in her pale flesh.
Her voice shivered, but she stayed strong, her tone filled with authority. "What do you have in your pocket, employee?"
And suddenly the feeling was gone, it was as though a boulder was taken from their minds. They almost automatically stood up straight again, blinking in confusion and worry.
Old Sport smiled widely. "So now you two WANT to see it?"
His smile was warm on the outside, but not for the obvious reasons. His warmth came from pity, not from excitement.
Look at those monkeys. That is all it takes to turn them into terrified animals. Jesus Christ, how pathetic. And they think they stood above him.
Proudly and casually he took out Henry's masterpiece, deactivated now, the dread it was oozing being far less notable in that state, even if still there.
They looked at the long, thin machine, out of glass and thick wire, a unholy cross between a needle and a... generator? Motor? Usually things like that weren't visible behind glass, the other two couldn't quite put their finger on it.
"What.... what is that?" Juliette asked, uneasy, but now feeling silly, maybe she overreacted.
"I dunno! Just a neat thing I found!"
Quietly she took a breath. "You should not bring strange objects to work, employee."
"I shouldn't?" Peacefully he asked. "Odd. Then why do the customers get to bring whatever? Or do we need to search them in the future?"
For a moment Old Sport waited for an answer, then shrugged. "Sorry miss! It won't happen again."
And with that he wandered off, leaving the other two behind, slipping the machine back into his pocket until he was out of sight of most people.
Then he pulled it out again to take another long stare.
It shined in the artificial light in a very odd way.
It had taken a while, but slowly and surely Old Sport had grown to appreciate it more. Sure, it was still a terrifying object that made him feel sick if he focused too much, but bit by bit he came to appreciate what it was. Just because it was scary didn't mean it needed to scare HIM.
Fear came from stupidity.
He could handle this. He was smart enough to handle an object like this.
And BECAUSE he was smart enough to handle this, he got to see everyone else be pathetically afraid of a simple tool.
Uneasy he shifted it in his hand.
Okay... Dave was afraid of it too. But Dave was often irrational. Scared of things that weren't even there.
Putting it away, he suddenly was washed over with the desperate need to see him.
Quickly he rushed out and looked around.
Where was the purple nutcase?!
Ah there he was.
Gambling against children apparently.
And losing.
What a man.
Smoothly he joined his buddy, looking over his shoulder, almost getting a deathly backhand to the face.
Shocked Dave realized it was him as he looked over his shoulder. "Sportsy! You've given me a heart attack!"
"And you almost hit me in the face." Dryly Old Sport responded, then grinned a bit. "Heart attack? What can I say? You BROKE my heart by being so incapable!"
Something about his words didn't feel quite right.
He felt like his mind was on the wrong lane, as though his thoughts were drifting out of control.
But he kept going, hoping that it was an illusion.
"Losing against a bunch of kids? You bring shame upon this h o u s e !" A little he nudged him, still smiling, prompting Dave to snicker.
"Guess you're right, buddy. If only there was a suspiciously handsome guy with an alluring orange hue around to help me out!"
"If only!" Already he felt better. "Too bad there's only an average-looking guy with a tangerine color to boot. But at least that one is available to help!"
"Hm, not sure if I want any help from that one." Dave smiled up at him, his eyes full of adoration and playfulness. "... he sounds like he's selling himself short and I just can't have that."
Relaxing Old Sport sat down next to him, having Dave suddenly shove himself onto him, like some sort of oversized puppy.
And like said oversized puppy, he was rewarded with plenty of pets.
The kid in front of them, holding the cards, was giving them a death stare. With an endlessly echoing voice the child called out to them.
"I demand you to make your move."
Old Sport looked mildly shocked. "Oh damn, it's a demonic toddler. You could have warned me."
"I demand souls."
"Kinda out of those."
"You WILL pay your debts to the lord of the pit." Threateningly the child responded, its eyes glowing up red and talking with the voice of hundreds of other lost evil beings.
"We can pay in licorice." He offered.
"Substitute accepted. Make your move."
"Okay, okay, I have a pair of pretzels and I can and will summon the white eyes blue dragon, sacrificing both my pikachus-"
"Am I a JOKE to YOU-"
Fun gambling ensued, I am sure.