Youngstown Demon
Moments before the alarm goes off you wake in cold sweat, a terrible thirst constricting your throat. The alarm buzzes beside you and you quickly turn it off, kicking the covers from your body and hurrying for the bathroom sink where you suck the cold and refreshing water down greedily. You splash your face with cold water before brushing, showering and getting ready for work.
The work day passes like any other, nothing out of the ordinary occurring; completely uneventful. The end of the day comes and you head home. This same pattern of the mundane repeats for the next several days. You're still not sure who this Morton character is, but you don't fret much over it. When He is ready to introduce you to Morton, He will. Until then there is no need to concern yourself with it.
One day, as you are doing secretarial work, the office phone rings. "Adler, Bomonte, Mordred, and Katelli," you answer. There is a man on the line who is contemplating a lawsuit. He schedules an appointment to see Mr. Bomonte.
"And your name?" you ask.
"Charles Morton," the voice on the other end of the line responds.
The pen falls from your hand and you find yourself paused in silence. Morton, one of them whispers in your ear.
"Yes, I know," You respond.
"You know what?" Mr. Morton asks from the other end of the line.
"I know... Mr. Bomonte will be pleased to see you. Have a good day," and you hang up the phone. You will meet Mr. Morton tomorrow at 2:30. He is the one. You laugh a bit to yourself, relieved that it was made so easy for you this time. Not like the others.
"What's so funny?" You are startled a bit and turn around in your swivel chair to see Mr. Adler looking back at you, his face as stern as ever.
"Oh, nothing," you say. "I was just thinking."
He "hmph's" at this and hands you a folder of paperwork for you to file, then returns to his office.
The rest of your work day passes by easily enough; just run of the mill paper work and phone calls. You take messages, schedule appointments, and file what needs filed.
When the day is finished you file out of the office and head for the elevator. The lift seems to stop at every floor on the way down, taking on more and more passengers until you are all packed in tight. It's almost comical how many people are willing to ride in a box that dangles from a chord. You pass the time fantasizing about killing them all and stepping over the bodies when you reach the ground floor.
When you do finally reach the lobby, you make your way casually through it. Don is there to say goodbye to everyone. He says goodbye to you, but not with the same friendliness that he used to. He's still harboring a grudge from when you told him to get fucked. It's a shame, he might've been spared once.
You make your way home and eat left over pasta for dinner. The night passes as any other, you watch the news for any progress in the investigations but find no mention of your exploits, no new coverage of the Youngstown Demon.
You are sometimes amused and sometimes frustrated that they call you the Demon of Youngstown. There is a reason you cut crosses into the chests of your victims, how can that not see your actions as the cleansing and holy rituals that they are? The voices tell you that it is because the people are blind and easily confused.
You turn off the television and go to sleep, deciding that they are right, that people are both blind and confused. The light goes off with a pull of the string and you are soon plunged into a deep and dreamless sleep.
The work day passes like any other, nothing out of the ordinary occurring; completely uneventful. The end of the day comes and you head home. This same pattern of the mundane repeats for the next several days. You're still not sure who this Morton character is, but you don't fret much over it. When He is ready to introduce you to Morton, He will. Until then there is no need to concern yourself with it.
One day, as you are doing secretarial work, the office phone rings. "Adler, Bomonte, Mordred, and Katelli," you answer. There is a man on the line who is contemplating a lawsuit. He schedules an appointment to see Mr. Bomonte.
"And your name?" you ask.
"Charles Morton," the voice on the other end of the line responds.
The pen falls from your hand and you find yourself paused in silence. Morton, one of them whispers in your ear.
"Yes, I know," You respond.
"You know what?" Mr. Morton asks from the other end of the line.
"I know... Mr. Bomonte will be pleased to see you. Have a good day," and you hang up the phone. You will meet Mr. Morton tomorrow at 2:30. He is the one. You laugh a bit to yourself, relieved that it was made so easy for you this time. Not like the others.
"What's so funny?" You are startled a bit and turn around in your swivel chair to see Mr. Adler looking back at you, his face as stern as ever.
"Oh, nothing," you say. "I was just thinking."
He "hmph's" at this and hands you a folder of paperwork for you to file, then returns to his office.
The rest of your work day passes by easily enough; just run of the mill paper work and phone calls. You take messages, schedule appointments, and file what needs filed.
When the day is finished you file out of the office and head for the elevator. The lift seems to stop at every floor on the way down, taking on more and more passengers until you are all packed in tight. It's almost comical how many people are willing to ride in a box that dangles from a chord. You pass the time fantasizing about killing them all and stepping over the bodies when you reach the ground floor.
When you do finally reach the lobby, you make your way casually through it. Don is there to say goodbye to everyone. He says goodbye to you, but not with the same friendliness that he used to. He's still harboring a grudge from when you told him to get fucked. It's a shame, he might've been spared once.
You make your way home and eat left over pasta for dinner. The night passes as any other, you watch the news for any progress in the investigations but find no mention of your exploits, no new coverage of the Youngstown Demon.
You are sometimes amused and sometimes frustrated that they call you the Demon of Youngstown. There is a reason you cut crosses into the chests of your victims, how can that not see your actions as the cleansing and holy rituals that they are? The voices tell you that it is because the people are blind and easily confused.
You turn off the television and go to sleep, deciding that they are right, that people are both blind and confused. The light goes off with a pull of the string and you are soon plunged into a deep and dreamless sleep.