"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LEFT IT BEHIND!?" my boss shot at me, followed by a marble ashtray, missing me just by a spec.
"For fucks sake! I got blasted 'wae by'at cheeky tart! Wha' should I've done'ere, eh?" I snark back at him, taking a sip of my flask.
Alpha Kaspers face turned blazing red as his cigar burned down to a tiny stump.
"Well... THE OBVIOUS! To get it BACK, even if it kills you!"
"Ah right, 'cause it's sooo easy for the lot of ye. Just a reminder, that d'spite me bein' the lowest rank admiral, I'm the furthest trained of that sour sorry bunch o' crooks ye call soulhunters! Noone's out on field as hard as me!"
As soon as these very phrases leave my mouth, the whole office, which usually gets its warmth from a fireplace, situated behind the Alpha's seat, turns into a cold and dark void, with only the king soulhunters' angered face visible to the bare eye.
"You listen to me and listen close! I will not tolerate you talking down to all those above you AND disregarding even the lowest levels of principles we have, even if it's not written in any rulebook. You'll go back there and get this wretched soul and hand it to me PERSONALLY ! Until you achieved that, don't you dare set a foot in this company! Lost extra time will be deducted from your saved up leave. ARE. WE .CLEAR!?"
With every heap of words he got closer and closer, basically spitting in my face. I exhale sharply, nodding in addition to my frown.
"Crystal.clear-"
He squints at me and sits back into his chair.
"Then get out of my sight."
And so I leave. Although come to think of it-
"Thanks for the vacation leave, boss~"
I snark at him as I close the door.
"Wha- WHAT!?"
The door shuts close and I run down the corridor, passing Reaper, the beta soulhunter. Thinking about it, he looks more like a true Death than the old alpha bastard. Skeleton, scythe, cloak and one of these oldschool hats with a giant feather in it...
But right now he has to play the role of Kaspers' right hand puppy. Visible at his "kill me" expression he adorns himself with.
"Have a good one, ol' fella!
I waved at him whilst passing by.
"You too, Omega-"
He changes his view to the door of Kaspers' office.
"Will I regret walking inside right now?"
He asks me in an amusingly sarcastic manner.
"Bet yer scrawny arse on'at, he's done for today" I reply swiftly, pointing fingerguns at him, before falling down the stairs backwards.
"Oh, joy be me." he muttered, before taking a sip of coffee. At that i stop dead in my tracks, basically falling back up the stairs. "Actualle, 'at ol', blubbery, backpokin' weasel gave me a vacation!" I turn to Reaper, stretching myself in preparations. "Might not be'at mad after all, try yerself~"
Reaper chuckles at my preposterous acclaim. "What, are you mad!?"
I laugh at him. "What's the ma'er? Afraid to get wet?"
"Just get lost, you mad bastard, before he comes after you", he proclaimed, taunting his goodbye.
"Be aware, he's everywhere!" I laugh at him, before continuing my sprint.
"Fare thee well! You numbskull-"
At that i shout my repsone from the way other side of the hall. "If one's a skull, it be ye!"
After I deliver the last souls and contracts of the day to the collection booth, I'm already on my way home. A vacation at last! I mean, fair enough, my last proper vacation was 3 centuries ago, so it's meant to make every second of it count.
With that thought i wind up at home. A medium sized 2 room apartment on the 2nd floor, situated in a district someone called hell within hell. I thought New Frankfurt would've fitted better....or Ludwigshafen in red, or West Yorkshire, by the amount of shanked corpses lying about, but what can you do about it. No matter the daytime, the souls of the damned, one more dreadful than the other constantly prey upon each other, be it for power, be it to survive, be it to spite someone. This area is outlawed, for no emperor or overlord has claimed it yet. You'll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy .... and bad cupcakes either.
I do my part to keep it that way. That way the rent stays cheap and gives me more booze money. So do the shootouts, which, speaking of the devil, I am bombarded with as I make my way through the door to my apartment.
"давай!" This phrase halls through the room as I dodge the barrage of bullets, to take cover behind my canapés. At that point I reach into my coat pockets, pulling out an AK-47 mashinegun, firing back, shouting at the aggressor.
"Da fuck's it this time!!"
"Where is our vodkaaaaaa!!"
Bullets ripple from both sides through the air, getting stuck at the walls and furnitures, some escape through the windows. After a few minutes of heavy fire suppression, I get out of my position and throw a few bottles of precious potato juice towards them.
"A'ight, fun time's o'er..... Rattigan? Yer on cleanin' duty'at week. Get to it, the lead won't cast itself"
The 3' sized ashgrey rats catch the bottles and put some firewood into an already scorched, open barrel, lighting it up for a cozy fireplace.
"О чувак, I want to party!" Rattigan, the biggest of those life sized pests, looks at his fresh bottle of vodka, fidgeting his already bent whiskers.
"Deal's a deal, comrat, either'at or'e street, right?" I swiftly replied, opening myself a bottle of whiskey.
In a way I undersrand his unwillingness. After all the whole apartment isn't really worth a clean up. It more or less needs a renovation. The fridge is broken, the plaster crumbles, a tentacle-....thingy clogs up the kitchensink, the windows were shattered long ago, scorchmarks fill the roof, broken tiles-. It's without luxus, without pomade, all a bit crooked and not that straight.
But it's not horrible, it's comfy.
I get the cookin grate and place it over the now happily crackling fire, followed by a few chucks to grill.
One of the rats, Garat the name, looks at todays dinner in awe. "ух ты, what is occasion?"
"Da occasion!? Holidays o' course! 'bout time i take some, dont ye think?"
The whole room fills with this alienating silence.
The expression on their faces alone, resembling 7 meters of farm track, describe their perfect confusion.
"Wha'!? I'm worthy of a few days off meself! Even the Alpha noticed'at!"
The crowd is a bit taken aback before raising their bottles to the sky. Rattigan raises the feather duster high and speak. "To Omega then. He is fit and he is worthy! Ваше здоровье"
"Ваше здоровье!!!"
"Nastrovieee!!!" I butchered with my faint accent.
With us drinking and partying, the dawn follows from the earrippling loud music, that filled the dusk. Sometimes, the struggle can wait another day, can't it?