|Abel Parrish + Fenrir (devourer) wrote in paxletalelogs,|
@ 2017-10-01 13:30:00
|Entry tags:||chernobog, fenrir, hades|
that dog's getting long in the tooth
Who: Matt & Abel, with a brief appearance by Obed.
What: Matt makes an attempt to complete his assignment.
Where: Pax Letale elevator.
When: Backdated to Sept. 30.
Another late night, another unsuccessful hunt had Abel on edge. He was high, or maybe drunk; sometimes the two coincided with one another, leaving him dizzy and confused, which weren't bad sensations on their own. He slowly made his way into the Pax lobby, ignoring Stephan's pointed look as he headed directly for the elevator bank. To his muffled surprise, there was already a man waiting there, glasses fixed on the descending numbers in front of him.
"Late...night?" Abel came to a stop, blinking somewhat slowly, hands in his pockets. One bulged with his phone, the other his keys; he was sans a shirt, instead clad in a knitted mesh tank that blared loudly to anyone staring at him, saying fresh from the club. Glitter, BO, and alcohol were ever present around his figure; if that wasn't enough, he was swaying a little on his feet, and slowly considering taking a diversion to the eighth floor to see if Rafe might want to play.
For now, though, he'd see what this new toy might offer.
Matthew looked to his side and barely caught his eyebrows from rising. “Yeah, definitely a late night,” he said casually enough. And it had been a late night. Since receiving the mysterious call with the mysterious demand, Matthew had spent more time at the lab concocting small needles with serum that would knock a grown man out. He couldn’t necessarily order the stuff, and what supplies he had been given to his office he wasn’t sure what the makings were of, but after some tests he had a small line of tiny needles tucked on the inside of his jacket. With that ready to go, all he had to do was figure out who this Abel was and easily enough, he found photos of the man…the man that now stood at his side.
Eyes flicking to the elevator numbers once more, he considered his options and how he could go about getting the man knocked out. It was late enough, the complex was utterly dead, but he needed to get away from Stephan’s curious gaze before he could try anything. “I guess it’s a late night for you too,” Matthew commented, keeping his eyes on the falling numbers.
Abel grinned, shrugging; glitter cascaded down from his form. "Always. You only live once, right? Whatever the fucking millennials are saying." He paused, giving Matt a pointed look from his head to his feet. Not his usual choice, but a fire was a fire. He took a step closer to Matt.
"Abel," he started, holding out his right hand for an awkward shake. "507."
Matthew flashed a grin at the man, more filled with relief that whom he assumed the man was had been correct. “Matthew, D4,” he replied, taking the man’s hand and giving it a firm shake. He forced himself to continue with the conversation, if only to keep the man’s interest. “It’s great that you’ve gotten out. I don’t seem to have the time for that, but getting drunk at a bar would be nice if only once in awhile…”
"You should come out with me, then," Abel offered, his voice lowering a register. Nothing about this man, this Matt, screamed anything other than uptight and prude, but Abel did love to unwind those sorts of people. He gripped Matt's hand tightly, holding it for too long of a moment. When he let go, Matt's hand was dusted in the same glitter and sweat that covered his own body.
"How are you with clubs?" As he asked, the elevator doors opened. Abel swung his arm out wide, allowing Matt to enter first.
Matthew hesitated then stepped into the elevator, turning promptly to face the open doors and Abel who stood outside of the box. He considered the slim needles in his pocket and reached into his coat, feeling them within and slipping one out, hiding it in the palm of his hand as he withdrew his apartment keys. Simply going to his apartment, that was all. “I’ve never really gone. In college it was more bars and fraternities.” He slipped the keys into his pants pocket along with the needle, leaving his hand there as he maintained eye contact. He had practiced this, much like a child rehearsing some imaginary scene, and one of the things he worked on was the eye contact. He had nothing to hide if he was looking the man in the eye, right? “I haven’t even had much chance to visit the bars around here since moving. Too busy, I guess.”
Abel followed Matt into the elevator, one brow slightly crooked as he noted all the usual mannerisms that indicated anxiety; the hesitation to enter the car first, the other man's continued talking, as if to build a barrier between himself and his newfound companion, the way his hands lingered in his pockets to create some privacy. Abel was no stranger to others being nervous around him, and this scenario was certainly no different; if anything, it only amused him more.
So he took his time, walking into the elevator, delaying its progress. He remained close to the door, hit his floor button, and then sidled up a little too close to Matt's form inside the car. His lean, muscled arms crossed over his chest, elbow brushing Matt's upper arm as he sat back against the wall.
"Busy doing what, might I ask? Work? You know what they say; all work and no play makes Matt a dull boy."
“Work, yes,” Matthew responded, glancing at Abel with obvious dislike to the close proximity. He leaned forward and quickly hit the deluxe floor button on the keypad. He glanced down at his feet and then Abel’s, noting how close he was and considering if it would be possible to just do it here and now. But the lower numbered floor had already been selected… he couldn’t have Abel passed out and the door swinging open on his floor. What if a neighbor saw him? No… he’d have to wait and ensure it happened without the risk of onlookers. “I work in the medical field. Research.”
"Research." Abel deadpanned, his hands reaching back for the bar that ran lengthwise along the back wall of the elevator. This made his elbow brush Matt's once more; the rank smell of beer and BO invaded Matt's personal space just as much as Abel was. Maybe it was the elevator car, but it seemed like he was swaying, brushing against Matt once, twice, more than was appropriate for two near strangers in a small space.
"I'm into research," he continued, this time purposefully leaning into Matt's space. "What kind do you do?"
“Medical, like I said,” Matthew murmured his reply, leaning back slightly from Abel with his eyes wide and meeting the other man’s gaze. His hand fidgeted in his pocket, his thumb flicking off the plastic covering of the needle he held there. “It’s stuff I can’t quite talk about to strangers, no offense.” He glanced over Abel’s shoulder at the climbing numbers and saw they were growing closer to Abel’s floor. Once the man turned to leave, he’d jab him with the needle, they just had to make it to that floor.
Abel smacked his lips, shaking his head as he followed Matt's line of sight to the climbing numbers indicating the elevator's ascent.
"You know, we don't have to be strangers," he offered, stepping into Matt's gaze. "I can be friendly." He neatly boxed Matt into a corner, his left arm coming up to rest his hand against the wall, providing a barrier. Leaning in, the sharp stink of alcohol was unavoidable.
Matthew pulled his gaze from the elevator numbers and back to Abel, eyes widening slightly but his face not conveying his discomfort and surprise. “Your...your floor is coming up. I think you should probably go home, you know, get some sleep. You’re pretty drunk…”
He gripped the needle into his first, thumb on the button and ready to go. His arm twitched, ready to pull the needle free if necessary.
Abel made a sputtering, nonsensical sound that flippantly waved away Matt's apparent concerns. "Believe me, I know my limits. My question to you, is, you wanna find out yours?" His other hand went to Matt's elbow, circling around the meat of his upper arm. He could feel the tension there, though he chalked it up to fear, discomfort, any number of other emotions that he expected of his prey. Never would he have thought that Matt was actually preparing to attack him.
The elevator began to slow, coming to a stop. The door dinged open; Abel's grip around Matt's arm tightened. "You wanna come with me?"
Matthew’s eyes flicked to the open door and the thankfully open hallway. He looked back at Abel and gave a curt nod. “Lead the way,” he murmured, his voice showing the barest quiver in tone. “I’ll follow.”
"Oh, I bet you will," Abel replied, a chuckle underlining his words. He did not move back; instead, he leaned forward, his eyes moving down to Matt's mouth. But he didn't kiss the other man; his mouth moved, suddenly, to the side, landing on Matt's jaw, his teeth cupping the bone beneath skin and muscle. He bit, hard, cutting through skin, tasting blood.
Matthew jerked back, his head hitting the wall of the elevator and the pull causing further tearing into his jawline. A curse hit out of his mouth and before he realized, the needle was out of his pocket and he thrust it into Abel’s stomach, pressing the contents of the needle quickly into him before his other hand raised to push the man away.
Abel hissed, stepping back; a little red leaked down his chin as he looked down to see the needle buried in his flesh.
"What the fuck?" Hands splayed to the sides in shock, Abel swayed—whether from the drug or his inebriation wasn't clear—and then looked up to Matt's face with an incredulous look. "The fuck did you do to me?"
The questions weren't Abel's only response; he swung out with a fist, clipping Matt on the chin in nearly the same area where he'd bit the other man. His attack, however, was muted between the drugs and alcohol already in his system.
“What you deserved,” Matthew hissed and for a moment, he completely believed his own words. He touched his jaw and pulled it away, showing blood, then reached forward to push Abel back against the wall before lunging for the elevator pad and hitting the close-door sign. It swished shut and the elevator continued its climb to his floor as Matthew turned to look down at Abel.
Abel fell back, tripping over his own two feet. A hand reached up, scraping against the wall as he slid to the floor, no longer in control of his limbs.
"The fuck—" he repeated, his eyes fluttering; his last view of anything was of Matt's seemingly looming figure, dressed in black, standing over him.
Matthew let out a shaking breath and threw his hands to his head as he pressed his fingers through his hair. Turning in place, he looked at the elevator numbers and let out a sigh as the elevator finally reached his floor, dinging cheerfully as the doors swished open. Quickly hitting the hold button, Matthew turned back to Abel and attempted to lift the man only to have him slip back to the floor with a thump. Matthew was never one to work out, he wasn’t built, and the solid dead weight of a grown man was certainly going to be a struggle.
After a few more tries, Matthew finally got his arms hooked underneath Abel’s and dragged his body from the elevator only to sigh when he saw how far away the barely there door was. The sigh was quickly punctuated by the opening of a door, and the quick clicking of very small claws.
Obed glanced up, his hand still on the doorknob. Hanni began barking so frantically he was very nearly bouncing, causing Matthew to freeze and look up with wide eyes. A deep furrow appeared in Obed's brow; cold blue eyes, utterly unreadable, flicked from burden to burdened and back again. He turned to squarely face his neighbor.
“Uh…” Matthew blinked and looked from the man to Abel and back again. “So…” He repeated the glances but still hadn’t moved. “He’s very drunk,” he finally said, his face paling considerably.
Obed made a small sound that made clear his disbelief. But after a moment more of careful observation, he quietly let Hanni back into the apartment and returned to Matthew's side. "Was he drunk when he gave you that?" He tipped his chin to indicate Matthew's wounded jaw.
Matthew’s hand immediately reached for his cheek, causing Abel to thump to the floor. He took a step back, looking at Abel’s body back to the newcomer. “Um, yeah… he pinned me in the elevator. He…” Matthew’s eyes brightened, his brain working finally and moving forward with slight urging from the back of his mind. “He said he was trying to get to the top floor of the apartment. That there’s a door, down there, and I said I’d get him there. Then he bit me...you know, while I was pinned in the elevator, then he passed out. I never met him before but I figured maybe getting him to where he has to go is better than leaving him in the elevator. I’d rather he not come looking for me when he wakes up again for not doing as he asked. He’s kind of an asshole…”
Obed thought on this for a moment. He remained suspicious of the story, or at least some of its details, but given Abel's dress and state it did not seem entirely unlikely. He gave a slow shake of his head, clearly agreeing at least with Matthew's assessment of Abel's personality, and bent down to reach for his prone body. He slid his hands beneath Abel's shoulders, avoiding his sweat-slick and stinking armpits as best he could. "Grab his feet," he said, and hefted Abel aloft. "Just tell me where this door is and we'll get him there."
“Th-thanks,” Matthew stuttered, moving around to grab Abel’s feet and hoist him up into the air. He met Obed’s eye and gave a nod. “I appreciate it, just, move down the hall toward that corner. There’s a door there, apparently, it’s sort of hard to see. Abel just wanted to be dropped off in there so I say we just get him through the door, close it tight, and forget tonight…”
Slowly Obed shuffled backward, glancing over his shoulder now and again to avoid bumping into any walls. The moment his footfalls came near his own apartment door, Hanni began yipping frantically from within, convinced he was being left out of some wildly interesting goings-on. Obed ignored him, looking back down to the dead weight held between them, and wondered at the real story behind this turn of events.
"Matthew, right?" Obed said, grunting with exertion as a last they neared the hidden door. "I'm Obed Brandt. I've seen you around, but I don't think we've really met."
Matthew blinked at the man and gave a slow, jolting nod. “Uh… yeah, Matthew Buchanan. I live on this floor so I guess we’ve probably passed by one another every now and then.” Matthew shifted Abel’s feet in his hands--how was there glitter even on his shoes? Forget blood on his hands, he was going to be coated in a sheen of glitter and another man’s sweat after this. He looked toward the end of the hall and let out a sigh as they grew closer. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you but...that’s a little weird right now.”
Obed nodded, a smirk on his lips. He set Abel down, perhaps less gently than was required, and turned to face the wall. He flattened his hands against it, skimming over the surface for some time. "Do you know where the latch is?" he asked, his hands never stopping their seeking. His fingertips found a small seam, and he pressed firmly, then pulled, working to find the right combination of motions that would open the hidden door to them. "I'd say we should try to wake him so he can tell us, but I'm not sure he'd come to in the most cooperative of moods..."
“No,” Matthew responded a little too quickly. He looked down, realizing he was still holding onto Abel’s feet, and dropped them to the ground with a thump. “I definitely don’t want a repeat of what happened on one cheek to happen on the other.” He brushed his hands off, bits of glitter fell to the floor as he looked down at Abel. “Seems he has that type of personality though… or at least from what I’ve heard. Sort of mysterious and… cruel.”
Matthew took in a breath and pulled his gaze to the door that Obed was working on. He pressed against the door, his other hand finding the latch that Obed worked on and pressed it at the same time, and finally the door opened with a sigh. Matthew stepped back and eyed the dim entryway and the staircase beyond. “I say we just drop him in, prop him up on the steps, and let him sleep it off.”
"I don't believe that's what you were asked to do," a voice interrupted, carrying easily down the stairs. A light flicked on above, outlining the stranger in silhouette. He made a motion for the two of them to pick Abel up once more and bring him up the stairs. "Quickly, now."
A deep furrow creased Obed's brow. He looked to the silhouette above them, then back to Matthew. Though his expression changed little, his growing discomfort with this situation was plain. Tension straightened his back, made his motions more measured. Abel still needed to be moved, that was clear; but it chafed to be ordered to do so. Later, he thought, there would be time to demand answers. His jaw tightly set, Obed reached down and helped lift their unconscious neighbor again.
Matthew’s eyes were wide and he looked genuinely startled by the newcomer. Quietly, he returned to Abel’s feet, lifting them up and only allowing the briefest, even shyest of glances at Obed. “He said just to bring him inside the door,” Matthew murmured, more to himself than for the others present, but he still did as he bid and directed the unconscious Abel up the stairs. Obed aided him, moving slowly and carefully, though with every step he believed Matthew's cover story even less.
He glanced up and into the expansive room once they had reached it, seeking the silhouette of the man who had ordered them so. A question lingered in his eyes and in the arch of his brow, but he did not put it to words, standing in silence as they held Abel's body aloft.
Whatever the voice might have said on the phone to Matt, it was clear that simply leaving Abel at the foot of the stairs did not constitute 'just inside the door,' at least not to the man who was waiting for them at the top of the stairs. He made sure to stay out of their line of sight, instead weaving from dark spot to dark spot as a wide bank of servers and machines greeted the two men upon reaching the staircase landing. Blue and green lights glittered throughout the dark room, set around a wide, tilted screen that ran letters and numbers that were too tiny to read at a distance.
"In the chair," the voice intoned, a vague motion made toward a green-seated dentist-like chair ensconced in one corner of the room. A pale light shone down around it; silver medical trays waited just outside the beam of light like actors in the wings of a theater for their parts.
Matthew’s feet found themselves stuck in place. “Uh…” he voiced, his tone uncertain and his face reflecting as much. He looked at Obed, hoping for a way out. It was one thing to knock Abel out and leave him at the door but this… all seemed a little too much, too wrong. He looked down at Abel and felt the throb in his cheek from the bite mark, whoever the guy was, surely he didn’t deserve any of this. Matthew’s feet shuffled but he didn’t make any forward progression as his eyes flit to the machines in the room as a curse escaped on his breath, low and like a sigh.
Likewise, Obed remained firmly in place. When he spoke he sounded slightly winded, but there was a force behind it all the same. "I'm sorry, but you're going to have to explain exactly why we're dumping a neighbor in a makeshift surgical theater. I thought I was helping a drunk home, not… whatever this is."
The shadow remained where it was, undaunted by the men's hesitation. "It's not something you need concern yourself with, Mr. Brandt. There's been dozens of occasions where you've kept yourself from asking questions before; ignorance is bliss, is it not?"
Obed's jaw drew so tight he could hear his teeth creaking in his head. Nothing about this situation or any of the men involved struck him well. But he saw little recourse, Abel's body grew increasingly heavy, and in the end his feet betrayed him. He led Matthew and their unconscious cargo over to the chair, bringing Abel to rest atop it with perhaps less care than was called for. There would be time for questions later. Or so he told himself.
The shadowy man waved them without goodbye toward the stairs, clearly eager to see them go. Matthew stepped back from Obed, Abel, and the other man and looked from one to the other, his discomfort plain and suspicion clear on his face as his glance turned to Obed, what sort of things had the man kept to himself already? Hopefully this too would be kept quiet.
He stepped away from them all and was first to turn for the stairs, ready to leave the evening behind and forget that is all had happened. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any reminders of what had transpired and as he went down the steps, casting one final look in Abel’s direction, he suspected that would be the case.