Black gloved fingers moved across white ivory piano keys creating a low, mournful sound. A haunting melody floated out the window, open to let in some fresh air and dis spell the scent of stale blood, drifting over the dark city. The purple sky was lit by white stars and a quarter moon, hanging low in the late night sky.
Off in the distance a clock chimed thrice. 3 am.
The melody stopped as the player ceased, glancing toward the window. He listened to the chimes, his white colored mouth turned down in a scowl.
Clocks.
He hated clocks. They always gave him reminders of stupid incidents with rival gangs.
The chimes didn't last too long, eventually dying away into the night. As they faded away he relaxed, the anxiety the sound gave him vanishing with the sounds.
He sighed, rising off the piano bench and waling over to the window. He reached up and pulled it closed, muting the sounds of the casinos in the distance. That was enough fresh air for one night plus he didn't want to hear that clock chime again.
Briefly he paused, the shade, partly up, looking up at the moon. It reminded him of something from long ago, before he was exiled from his own planet, Derse, and sent here. Back when he'd been under direct orders of the Black Queen, the Archagent as some called him, back before he...
He turned sharply from the window and yanked the shade down fully, hiding the sky behind its off white color. It was stupid to think about those things. That was all over and done with, he had no reason to dwell on it now. It was all ancient history and good riddens. That part of his life didn't hold very pleasant memories anyway.
Blast. There he went again, focusing on such trivial things. He cast about the room, looking for something to get his mind off the dark shadows of the past.
His white eyes fell on a piece of paper tacked to the wall. An old doodle he'd drawn on one of the many citations he had to file in his past job back on the home planet of the black colored living chess pieces.
The drawing was of a dark colored female, her skin and clothing matching his own colors. Black. There were words written by the doodle as well as drawings of green colored beings in boxes all around it. These images had red Xs over them, some crossed over more than once.
The Felt.
Those obnoxious time traveling gangsters. He and his three partners would have to deal with them once and for all eventually. He was tired of killing them and then seeing them alive again the next day. Of course right now they were the last things on his mind, except the black female who was completely out of place.
Oh how he loathed that vile woman that destroyed his life. She forever existed to be a thorn in his side.
Pushing the memories out of his mind he took off his gloves and started to unbutton the white colored short he wore under the suit black jacket. Might as well call it a night. He wouldn't get any new songs composed for his nightclub like this.
He started to change out of his suit but was interrupted when the bedroom window behind him suddenly shattered, tearing the shade apart and sending shards flying in all directions. Some of the glass rained on him, bits cutting his face.
Cursing in pain and shock, he threw himself to the floor, protecting his head with his arms. What the heck was going on?
"Slick..." a voice waved up through the now broken window.
He froze on the floor, his eyes widening with recognition. That voice...
Scrambling to his feet he pulled up the torn blinds and looked out the shattered window down to the street below. A slender figure in a black trench coat with green highlights looked up at him with mocking white eyes. She held a white gun in her left hand which she'd most certainly used to shoot out his bedroom window to get his attention.
"Snowman!" he growled, recognizing the singular female Felt member.
When she noticed him looking she waved up at him as if she were greeting an old friend.
He growled, gritting his pointed teeth. The nerve of that woman, shooting out his bedroom window then waving at him as if what she'd done was no big deal. If she wasn't so important to his own existence he'd-
Suddenly she grinned at him and pointing at him then downward, making him look down at himself...
He snarled and moved away from the window, caught with his pants down. Why did she have to be the one to see him like that?
Spades grabbed up his clothing and threw it on it on before grabbing up his knife and a deck of playing cards. If she was going to bother him he might as well return to favor by giving her a few new scars. He might not be able to kill her but he could hurt her and that would give him some sort of satisfaction.
Well stabbing her in her heart would, but sometimes you didn't always get what you wanted. It couldn't hurt to wish for it once in awhile though, even if wishes never came true. Who believed in those fairy tales anyway?
Grumbling dark threats to himself he redressed as he dashed down the stairs and burst out the front door of the apartment building. "All right, you she-witch!" he shouted, brandishing his knife. "Come and get me!"
But she was gone.
Huh? He frowned, confused. Where had she gone?
The mob boss stood still, turning his head slowly as he scanned the neighborhood for any sign of Snowman.
Suddenly he caught sight of movement further down the street. Female laughter floated toward him and he took off after it. This time she wouldn't get off easily.
"Not this time, you sneaky little waif," he grumbled rushing to the end of the block and pausing. He looked around, hoping to catch another glimpse of the female Felt member. Sometimes the fact that she was as black as he was and could easily blend in with the shadows made things frustrating. Then again so did her ability to worm around and bend the universe to her will with a simple thought.
He caught another glimpse of her just then, walking away from him as if she wasn't even aware he was out there after her. He highly doubted that. She knew. She always knew and she knew he knew she knew.
Dang, that sounded so stupid now that he thought about it.
Of course that realization should have prevented him from doing what he was about to do, but at the moment he was too ticked off at her for shooting out his bedroom window and pointing out that he was half naked that he didn't care.
Sometimes even the smartest people did something completely idiotic.
Snowman led him all the way to an old and rundown building in the "bad" part of town. If you could call any part of the city good, that is.
He paused, watching her go inside the one story house, suspicious. What was she planning now?
The female Dersite obviously had a reason for leading him here, though he wasn't sure what that could be yet. Maybe she thought she'd lure him inside and kill him, or something along those lines.
No, she wouldn't do that. She enjoyed making his life miserable too much. If he died her fun would be over seeing as she didn't bother messing with the other three members of the Midnight Crew at all, just him.
That gave him a little confidence and he quickly walked toward the building, holding his knives tightly in his black, gloved hands. This time if she decided to have a little fun with him she'd get a present in the shape of a knife in her arm.
Spades Slick pushed the door open cautiously and slipped inside, slowly shutting the door behind him.
He'd entered a large, empty room. Each wall had a closed door but other than that, there was nothing else in the room. He frowned. Was this some kind of fun house and where had that blasted female gone off to?
He looked at each of the doors, frowning intently. This had to be some kind of mind game she was playing. She most likely expected him to chose the most apparent door and he wasn't going to do that. So he chose the one on the left because it was the least likely one.
He found himself in a long hallway that branched off in a T shape at the end. The far wall had another door but he couldn't see around the corners from where he stood. For all he knew she could be waiting for him at the end.
That was a risk he'd just be willing to take.
Gripping the handle of his knife, he slowly and cautiously headed down the hall. It wasn't long before he reached the T. There he paused and cautiously peeked around the corner, seeing nothing but another door on either end. He frowned. Still nothing.
Where was that witch?
He sneaked to the door at the left end of the T and opened it, looking inside. It was a broom closet, full of cleaner, mops, and buckets and an awful stench. He shut the door quickly and turned his attention to the other door. The door also proved to be a closet, though it didn't have that awful smell in it. That only left the door at the other end of the T to investigate.
Gripping his knife tightly he walked to the door and grabbed the knob, yanking it open and finding... an empty room.
Frowning he slipped into the room. This looked similar to the previous room he'd entered, only it didn't have four doors, It had two. The one he'd just entered and another one directly across from him.
Without hesitating he walked toward that one. "Hmmm..."
Suddenly the door behind him slammed shut. He gasped and spun around, grabbing the doorknob and pulling on it.
Locked.
Cursing he yanked on the door once more then slammed his fist against it. "Let me out!" he shouted.
But the door remained stubbornly closed.
Cursing, he leaned against it and attempted to pick the lock. He was so preoccupied with what he was doing he didn't notice he was no longer the only person in the room.
Suddenly someone grabbed him from behind and shoved a sweet smelling rag over his nose and mouth.
Chloroform
Gagging he struggled, trying to get the cloth off his face. He kicked and fought against it, flailing madly. But the person holding on didn't let go, keeping the cloth pressed firmly against his face.
Eventually his struggling grew weaker as the chemical began to take affect then stopped altogether and he lost consciousness.
Snowman smiled to herself as he fell limply against her chest. "Gotcha."