Chapter Two - Room Service
"Curtains, Cupid," Deling said quietly.
His male bodyguard obediently shuffled across the room to the grubby window overlooking an alleyway. He pulled the shutters across, dislodging several years growth of cobwebs, and then closed the faded floral curtains.
Someone began frantically knocking at the door. Deling gave it a cold, cautious stare. "Blitzen?"
The female bodyguard, Blitzen, strode to the door and yanked it open, then immediately grabbed the intruder by the throat. Blitzen held the trespasser up for Deling to see - it was the hotel receptionist who had been so outraged at their entrance. She was currently gasping like a goldfish.
"The mouth moves, but no sound comes out," Deling observed, watching her with interest. "Do you think it's a medical condition, Blitzen?"
"Medical condition of having my thumb in her windpipe, sah," Blitzen said promptly.
"Really?" Deling mused. "Fascinating. Well, put the silly thing down, will you? I'm sure she's harmless."
His bodyguard dropped the receptionist, who sat on the floor for a moment, rubbing her neck. With bizarre courage, the woman rose to her feet and confronted Deling. "Really!" she exclaimed shrilly. "You can't take rooms without paying, you know, you just can't…" The woman's voice seemed to tail off as she stared at the man on the bed. Her eyes shifted to his two bulky bodyguards. "I mean…"
Cupid lumbered towards her, cracking his knuckles meaningfully. "How's this sound?" he grunted. "You get out of here, right now, an' never tell anyone we was here, an' that way I won't be havin' to break your fool neck."
The receptionist's jaw trembled, and she backed out of the room without another word.
Blitzen closed and bolted the door, while Cupid propped Deling up with some pillows. He was still fragile and shaky.
Deling glanced at the telephone. "Has anyone checked that for bugs?" When he received the affirmative, he continued. "Well, at least we're safe to talk." He paused for a second, collecting his thoughts. "I'm sorry," Deling began, "about Comet. But I'm sure you can appreciate that your compeer's death was a noble sacrifice. And you shall both have ample opportunity for revenge, I promise you. We shan't let that bitch get away with this…"
The two bodyguards saluted him loyally. Deling could see the anger burning in their eyes. They were the last two, he realised with a start. Comet was gone now, killed by the Sorceress, and Dasher had been the decoy with those brats from Timber. Prancer had been poisoned, and two of the others were killed when some lunatic blew up the presidential jet. Over the years, the Analogues, his most faithful allies, had been picked off. They had sacrificed themselves to save him. The VF project was almost over; Cupid and Blitzen were all that remained.
For some reason, Deling found himself feeling sad. What was wrong with him? He snapped out of it, annoyed at himself. He had to think about the present, not the past.
The Bitch-Sorceress would never have popular support; the people would not put up with her. They needed Vinzer Deling, the Lifelong President of Galbadia. There it was, the key word – 'lifelong'. Vinzer Deling was the supreme ruler of Galbadia, and would continue as such until someone killed him. Yes, the Sorceress would have to really kill him, not just whack one of his Analogues.
As for the immediate future… Given that the people would never accept the Sorceress, all Vinzer had to do was show his face at any police station or military base and they would take him to the palace and arrest her. It will be as simple as that, Deling thought, smiling with cold relish.
He was interrupted by someone banging on the door. Deling sighed and gestured to Blitzen to open it.
She obliged, and a big redheaded man burst in. He reeked of alcohol, and was staring at Deling and the Analogues with evident confusion. "Saaaay," he slurred. "Get the fooook out of my fooking room!"
Cupid and Blitzen both made moves towards him, but Deling shook his head slightly. He wasn't a total invalid, not yet. "I beg your pardon, is this your room?" he asked politely, swinging his legs off the bed.
"Yahhhh," said the drunk.
"Well, I'm using it now. Alright?"
The drunk considered this briefly and shook his head. "Naw, get the fook out…" He stumbled towards Deling, clearly intending to give him a helping hand out of the door.
Deling's hand twitched slightly. A pistol dropped out of his sleeve and into his grasp. He levelled it at the drunk's head and smiled sharkishly. "Listen up, sonny Jim," Deling hissed. "If your fat ass isn't out of this room by the time I count three, you'll have a third eye where your forehead used to be. Understand?"
"Errrr…"
"And if you even think of coming back here with friends, or police, I'll save my last bullet for you, chum. You can bet on that."
The drunk shot him a look of stupefied terror.
"One," Deling said in a loud, clear voice, sighting along the barrel of his pistol. "Two."
In a flash, the drunk leaped backwards and fled the room. They heard him crashing downstairs.
Deling grinned as he replaced the pistol in his sleeve. "I'm still the man."