Disclaimer: The only main character in this story that I created myself is Kris, all the others are the work of Jim Butcher. I also apologize for slight inconsistencies that arise because I mixed up facts given in the book series vs the TV show series, so bear with me with it if I get them mixed.
I awoke the next morning alone in bed, in a strangely twisted position and a sore back. Seems like there was a power struggle for sleep space during the night, due to our new visitor. Oh goody. A sore back is nothing compared to pains I have had to work through in the past, but I haven't had to work through pain in a while. First thing I knew I had to do today was get to my office and turn in my rent money for it before I was evicted. I only hoped that he would wait to turn in my check until I got the money from the plant job into my account. I really hate bouncing checks.
Shuffling sorely out of bed, my spidey senses picked up that something was amiss when I walked out my bedroom door. Have you ever got that feeling when you walk into a room that you're completely comfortable in like you have done thousands of times, but just this one time something felt different? That's kind-of the vibe I was getting. Problem was, from what I could see, nothing looked out of place or out of the ordinary. I gathered some focused energy in case any baddies did come storming out of nowhere, though without my staff or blasting rod I'd probably do more damage to the apartment. I couldn't figure out how anything could've gotten through my wards without me noticing in the first place. They would've been practically fried extra crispy at my doorway if they tried to force themselves in, and even if they did make it, my threshold would disable all or most of their magical abilities. I could see my wards were still up and running, so at least no one took a metaphysical hacksaw to them.
I really wish Mouse was here with me now. He's my Yeti of a dog. Mouse would've warned me of something, if there was something, regardless of whether my wards went off or not. Unfortunately, he was sick beyond my help. I don't know what he got hold of, but he scarffed something down that didn't bode well with his system. Poor pooch had diarrhea for two days all over the boarding house's tiny yard, which was no pretty sight, as Mouse is no Chihuahua. He also vomited on nearly every rug in my living room. I really didn't want to leave him at the vet's, but I just couldn't do any more for him. Hopefully he is feeling better today, but it doesn't help me right now.
I carefully surveyed my apartment, looking for anything that looked tampered with. It's so much easier when drawers are pulled out and emptied, stuff ripped off of shelves, handy little stickers that said "Thorlag Was Here". I neglected to find any of these things. Instead I just found a healthy portion or paranoia with a side order of second guessing.
Finally, after checking every possible scenario I could think of, I gave up. I was probably just being paranoid, and it was early, and I haven't had coke or coffee yet. I don't function well without caffeine. I reached in my icebox for the last coke but all my hand grabbed was cold air. Strange. I don't remember drinking my last coke. This was not a good start to my day. I didn't have any coffee at the apartment, but I did have some instant at the office. That was something at least. Both cats were waiting in my kitchen for breakfast service. They saw me wander the whole apartment, warily searching every corner and crevice like the suspicious idiot I am. Fantastic. They were going to have to wait for breakfast. If I can't drink mine right away why should I give them theirs? In my head I ran through things I had to do today. I needed to go to my office and collect the junk mail and check my messages. The bank and vets office were also on my agenda, but the office was the first stopping point on the route.
Since my duster was still covered in goo I grabbed a windbreaker instead. I was hesitant to wear the flimsy thing, but it wasn't for fear of making a fashion faux paus. The duster had loads of protective spells that watched my back when nothing (or no one) else would, plus...it's a leather duster. It's freaking cool and makes me look ten times the badass I really am. I try to always have a cover for my blasting rod because it looks a bit suspicious seen out in the open, and lately I don't go anywhere without it. Call me paranoid, but I believe in the Boy Scout motto, always prepared. That, and the old saying that everything that can go wrong will. I've personally experienced the truth in that phrase. I did a final check of all my defense paraphernalia; ring, bracelet, amulet. Check, check, check. Mister and the strange cat ran out my door as soon as I opened it, heading quickly for places unknown. This didn't bother me, Mister had his own agenda. I didn't ask him where he went, and he didn't ask me. Looking at the beetle I suddenly remembered the goo that got all over the seats the night before. I could just not wear my duster, but I couldn't avoid my car. Number two on the day's checklist, clean out car.
My office is in on the fifth floor of an office building that looked nicer before I was there, I'm sure. Aw, hell, it looked nicer when I started leasing there. At least at that time the elevator worked. Even though it's kinda my fault that it's broke, it's not entirely though. I wasn't the one who created the growing killer scorpion, or even released it. I just had to destroy it, inadvertently destroying the only elevator and closing it down until further notice.
First thing first; coffee. I grabbed a cup, wiped out most of the old dried coffee with the edge of my shirt and filled it with water, then turned my ancient hot-plate on to heat it up. Instant coffee may not be Starbucks, but beggars can't exactly choose the first NFL Draft. I didn't have much mail except a few ads for credit cards, a free cell phone and finally a rent due notice. I'll never understand why I get the mail I get. No company would possibly grant me a credit card with my credit, and a cell phone in my hands is practically dead before it finishes powering up. I read the rent due notice, thinking my last client couldn't have come at a better time. I didn't see any other messages or notes for my attention. There isn't a lot to do in my office if I'm not expecting to meet someone.
I grabbed my steaming cup of water, having now dumped in a packet of magic bean powder. The first sip was so heavenly I completely ignored the fact that it was burning off every cell in my mouth. I would regret it later when I felt only the charred rough flesh, but for now it gave me peace.
I turned to walk out and kicked something I hadn't noticed when I walked in. It was a manila folder, and looked to have been slipped in under the door. There was nothing written on the outside, and I couldn't tell if there was anything at all inside it. If some magical goony left it, then I was relatively certain there wasn't a mechanical bomb inside at least. Anything small enough to leave the envelope looking empty would be pretty high-tech, and magical energies wreak havoc on high-tech devices. That didn't rule out the possibility of a magical "bomb" so to speak, or the human enemies I've made that wouldn't have any trouble with technology. Unfortunately, if I had to count all my enemies on my fingers, I would need both hands, both feet, and probably still another set of each. I couldn't think of any I had pissed off that recently in particular, though several wish me dead just as a general rule.
Aw hell Harry, standing here staring at the thing won't do any good. I've done my full share of pointless charades this morning, and I didn't feel like continuing them in the public of my office building's hallway. I carefully picked up the envelope, and opened it, definitely keeping it away from my face. Hey, you can never be too careful. I like my face arranged the way it is, thank you very much. I don't need it revamped by something flying out of the package as soon as I open it. Contained inside was one simple piece of paper with only a list of numbers, possibly coordinates, or maybe Pepsi reward codes collected from bottle caps. I wasn't betting on my luck handing me 10,000 points for free Pepsi gear, though that would be really freakin' cool.
There wasn't anything else on the paper or the envelope, and no other clue as to who sent it. I am not in the mood for a mystery today, and I'm not good at cryptic messages anyway. In fact, I hate them. In my opinion, everything left at my door should be noted, explained, signed, dated, and have contact information in case I have other questions. A blank envelope containing a list of random numbers should be returned to sender.
Although, a cryptic note just meant that it was something the sender didn't want as public information. Meaning, it was a secret, and I do so love secrets… as long as they don't get me shot at. So far this one hadn't got me shot at; point for the strange unmarked envelope.
I shoved the envelope in my belt and zipped up my jacket. I'd look into it later at a more comfortable venue. I hated to just toss it away because it was obviously important enough for someone to take the time to slip it under my door. It's not like people get me mixed up with the lawyer next door too often.
I had my hands full coming out of the building between my coffee, mail and fumbling my car keys, so unfortunately I was ill equipped when a couple thugs jumped me from the street. They popped out quicker than I could react, one jumping out from behind a parked van and the other slamming my head from behind, sending me stumbling forward. My coffee and mail went sailing across the sidewalk, and my keys sliding onto the street to rest under the van. Crap.
"What the hell?" When these kinds of things happen, I can't help but wonder which all-powerful being I pissed off the night before to send goons to beat me up for no reason I know of, before I could even finish my morning coffee. I went down on my knee, lifting my left arm with my shield bracelet. Unfortunately, I was too dazed to focus any energy, so instead of blocking the second thug's foot, it went sailing into that soft fragile part of my diaphragm, with his knee being personally introduced to my nose as my head whipped downward.
Now, I can take a beating just as well as the next guy, but that's when I'm ready for it. These guys caught me on a couple sucker punches. I just wasn't ready for them, I swear it. One of them grabbed my arms and pulled them behind my back while the other began rooting through my pockets searching for something. I still was trying to catch my breath, and he holding my arms back behind me wasn't helping matters. I was worried about my nose because I felt like it had started bleeding, and my eyes were already so watered I couldn't see anything clearly.
"Hells bells," I managed to sputter through gasps. I didn't owe money to any angry bookies, and my landlord wouldn't send goons to collect my slightly late rent payment. Well, pretty sure anyway. "Who are you?"
"Just shut up, who we are ain't important."
"Excuse me, but when I'm being attacked by someone I'd really appreciate knowing who and why. Like who have I pissed off this time?"
"You sure ask a lot of nosey questions."
"Yeah, I'm a nosey kind-of guy."
Goon two holding me still just grunted to everything. Apparently he was the talkative one. They were obviously searching for something they thought I had, but I couldn't think of what they would want. It would've been so much easier if they just asked, but no, they had to go straight to violence. I mean, maybe I would've cooperated. Maybe.
Suddenly out of my watery vision I saw a woman running toward us behind the man searching my pockets. She was small and slender in size, and although she wore what looked like sturdy boots, I heard no evidence of her steps hitting sidewalk. I don't know how he missed her, but the goon restraining me must have been too preoccupied with their search, but neither one of them saw her coming until it was too late.
She slammed her elbow into goon one and threw goon two a straight punch as he let go of me with one arm. I got some of my bearings then, and it was enough of a release for me to swing my leg around behind me and take him down. I didn't know who this woman was, but as long as we were fighting the same people, she was all right with me. I was quick to stand and move away from the recovering bad guy we had sent to the ground. The first goon that the woman hit had reached for his gun, and I saw it, but I was alert now. I took the adrenaline built up from the moment and a pale blue shield of protection was immediately there between the shooter and myself and the woman, just in time for him to fire off four wasted shots. The bullets hit my shield and went up, since I tilted it slightly to deflect them away.
I looked over at my savior, she had her hands ready in a stance that hinted a martial arts style, and I could feel a static energy rushing toward her like she was gathering it as I had. I looked at her puzzled, "Who are you?"
She stayed focused on the recovering goon rising off the sidewalk, but hinted at a smile, "Maybe we should save introductions for later."
"Yeah, maybe you're right." The shield spell was taking more energy from me than usual, and since the woman was also taking energy from around us there was that much less for me to draw from. Granted I wasn't at my best yet today since my breakfast was now spilled across the pavement. The second I lowered it, she had something ready though, throwing out a gust of wind so forceful that both thugs were sent crashing against the building.
We took this wonderfully convenient chance to run, though after passing that parked van I remembered the keys slid under it. It's a good thing that I'm tall and skinny with long arms, because it made the keys relatively easy to reach.
I grabbed the woman by the arm and pointed to the blue beetle a few spaces down and across the street. As she and I ran, the thugs popped off shots, but none of them hit close. We tore out of there as fast as my little bug could go, which unfortunately isn't as fast as I often would like.
I did my routine for loosing a tail, but never saw one following me. I continued it just for precaution anyway, also to give my knuckles the chance to relax themselves and get some color back. Gripping the wheel had turned them white. I was pretty shook up after the events of the morning; my strange woman didn't look fazed at all.