To Rule In Shadow

The sound of a fist colliding with flesh reverberated around the alley. A trio of men in black coats surrounded a pathetic, beaten figure.

"TELL US WHERE IT IS!" The center most yelled in a deep voice, rough with anger.

A pained chuckle arose from the crumpled heap of a man on the ground.

"Heh….it could be anywhere.....have you tried...your mother's-"

His answer was cut off by a swift kick to the abdomen that left him groaning.

"You think we're playing, f*****!" The man yelled before delivering another kick.

The leader of the trio laid a hand on the kicker's shoulder, pulling him away.

He was a head taller than the other two, dressed in a tailored black suit that was straining at the seams. It barely contained the corded set of muscles that would put professional body builders to shame. A long scar was gouged into his nose and mouth, twisting his face into a constant smirk.

With an exaggerated sigh, the leader placed one dress shoe on the beaten man's wrist.

"I like to think of myself as a nice guy. I don't enjoy causing pain, but every so often, I run into some idiot that's just asking for me to hurt them. I really don't recommend being one of them." He suddenly put force into his leg.

The snap of bone filled the air.

The beaten man screamed in pain, before his voice trailed off into a hoarse whimper. "F***...(huff)...you."

With a grim expression on his face the leader started grinding his foot onto the man's broken wrist, as if he were trying to stamp out a cigarette. Or squash a bug.

He removed his foot from the wrist, allowing his victim to curl himself around the injured limb.

"Now do you feel like talking, or do we need to show you the true definition of horror?"

Croaking, manic laughter sounded in the alley. It quickly tapered off into a coughing fit.

In the hollow voice the beaten man replied. "Fools.....you know nothing....of horror."

The leader sighed, "This is getting us nowhere. Take this crazy bastard back to the safe house. McLean will get him to talk."

He pulled out a cellphone, hit a number on speed dial, and put it up to his ear. "Yes, this is Gregg. We found the buyer, but he's stashed the key somewhere...…of course...We're taking him to McLean now. I'll let you know when he breaks."

He hung up, and started walking towards a car parked at the end of the alley, as the other two picked up the beaten man by the arms and began dragging him along behind.

None of the three noticed the smile of relief that appeared on their victim's face, nor the small pill he had managed to swallow when they weren't looking.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As the man was dragged over and thrown into the backseat of the car, she pulled out a cell phone, and took a quick series of pictures. With a few swipes she sent them to someone.

After doing so, she settled down to wait.

In a few minutes her phone started vibrating quietly. She brought it to her ear and listened to the speaker on the other side.

She spoke in a cold, monotone voice, "Understood," before hanging up.

With one last glance down at the alley way, she turned and vanished from the rooftop.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Adrian sat in his leather recliner, leaned back, and breathed heavily. Another day of tedium had passed.

He turned the television on, and switched it over to the news.

A white haired announcer was talking about recent protests against police violence as it related to rising crime rates.

"Hmph, serves them right." He muttered before standing again and stretching.

Adrian was feeling worn out. The classes he'd been sitting through today had been simple and boring, as always, but maintaining his facade always drained him.

He wandered over to the fridge and got himself a bottle of water, taking a few sips, before carrying it back to the chair. As he passed the hallway mirror, he paused to examine his reflection.

A young and handsome face stared back at him. One could easily call him pretty, save for his masculine jaw line and a broad shouldered, if slender, body.

He'd been blessed with good looks from an early age, but they had brought him as many problems as they did benefits.

Adrian brushed a lock of straight black hair away from his pale, blue eyes, and made a mental note to visit his stylist again in the near future. He had to keep up appearances after all.

A knock on the door to his apartment broke his concentration.

[That's odd, it's a bit late for a visitor. Hopefully it's not another secret admirer, they're always a pain to deal with.]

After glancing through the peephole (you can never be too careful), and not seeing anyone there, Adrian opened the door. The hallway appeared to be empty, and even when he stuck his head out and looked around, there were no people visible.

Curious, and sincerely hoping that this was not going to turn out to be a threatening letter or a lock of hair, or something to that effect, he pulled the envelope off and examined it.

Whatever was inside was heavy, weighing half a kilogram at least. He took it back inside, sat down at his kitchen table and tore the envelope open.

Not seeing any letter, he dumped the contents onto the table. A heavy metallic object fell out with a 'thud.'

It was an ornate, brass key. The kind that had largely fallen out of use more than a century ago. The handle was shaped in the form of a cross with an elongated loop for the upper portion. An ankh, Adrian recalled. It was worn smooth from age and handling, but was still polished and bright, with no sign of tarnish.

Adrian reached down to pick it up, but was suddenly overwhelmed, by the weight of an unseen pressure that started beating down on him. He felt a primal, animalistic fear, as if he was in the presence of a deadly predator.

Despite that fear, he had an uncontrollable longing, a desperate need to touch the key. Every cell in his body seemed to scream, as the conflicting d.e.s.i.r.es to get away and press closer warred within him.

The brightly lit room grew dim, and out of the corners of his eyes, Adrian could see the shadows dancing eerily. They seemed to be forming hands.

Clawed hands. Reaching out towards him.

At the very edge of his hearing, there a noise. A soft, sibilant sound that tugged at something in his heart. Some half-forgotten memory of his childhood.

The idea excited him.

Heartbeat pounding in his ears he brought his hand further forward. It was mere centimeters away now.

The shadows danced with increasing frenzy, and he could now make out the noise. A chorus of ghostly voices, screaming in terror and pain. They were urging him to stop, to turn back.

With his very last ounce of will, he pushed his hand forward and made contact with the key. He felt an electric shock travel up his arm, and for a brief moment his vision went dark, and silence enveloped him.

The humming of his refrigerator was the first thing that returned. The lights flickered briefly before cutting on fully.

Suddenly everything was back to normal. The change was so jarring that he began to suspect he had imagined it all.

[Am I going crazy?]

He looked down at the strange key he now held in his hand. It was oddly warm to the touch, but it felt strangely comfortable sitting there.

It felt right.

[I've had a long day. I'm going to hit the hay. I'm sure that this will all make sense in the morning.]

Adrian walked into his bedroom to lay down, not realizing that he had already pocketed the strange key.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In a dark place, far underground, something stirred.

Something ancient that had been undisturbed for a long, long time.

It hungered.

With the sound of a creaking door, it opened its mouth.