Mythical Creatures

“Mythology is what we call

someone else’s religion.”

-Joseph Campbell

“You are making me look very bad,” she whispered.

It didn’t sink in at all.

“My boys are looking,” she continued. “First I can’t seduce you, then I can’t threaten you. Then I get mad enough to hit you. They don’t like it when I get out of control. It makes me look . . . like a ‘chick.’”

“I wasn’t crazy about it myself,” I whispered back, conspiratorially, “And some of the best folks I know are ‘chicks.’”

Her first reflex would have been to curl her lip and then hit me again. Before anyone farther away than I could see, she decided on another tack.

She put on her “pouty” lips and dabbed the cloth on my temple again. “I hate to say it,” she informed me, “but you DID make me do that.”

I think there was vinegar on the cloth.

My head spun just a bit. The thought of vomit was rumbling around inside my skull. I turned in one direction and pushed her hand away to keep from puking on her.

The men stepped toward us, ready to kill me if I hurt their girl. She stopped them with a look.

Control came back into the picture, and I released her arm.

“What do you want for the horse?” she asked.

“I don’t have it,” I told her, not knowing where that came from, not being something I was ready to put into the discussion at this point. That’s sort of an “anti-trump card” that you try to hold on to until the last trick.

“Who brought you into this?” she was not ready to let an advantage go, “Was it Perry? Anderson? Gaspion?”

I must have reacted to Gaspion’s name.

“Gaspion?” she repeated, “Damn, this is farther along than I thought. Alright, he’s got nothing.”

She stood up and spoke to her minions, “Pull out, there’s lots to do.”

Within a minute they were all gone.

I sat alone in the warehouse.

It took me a half an hour to get out of my bonds. You would have thought they would have had the courtesy to cut me loose. It came to me a bit later that they didn’t want me to see which way they were going, or the complete scope of their team.

Was it just the handful of armed men I had seen, or were there back-up troops and support forces I didn’t know about?

I did realize that this was absolutely out of control. To get this item back, they were mounting armies. How many leaders were there out in the wild putting together units to bring back the Trojan Horse? I knew of at least four. This was not a stamp collector convention. These people were willing to kill, kidnap and anything else to get what they wanted.

It was like somebody had their own atomic bomb, and they were selling it to the highest bidder.

I stumbled into the elevator and then out onto the road; the light was growing weak in the sky, and there was no one on the street. My legs were as flimsy as red licorice.

It was a few minutes later before my knees showed up to join in the progress. They complained, but they were there.

The first two public phones I found were damaged or destroyed. Nobody liked the phone company, but this was ridiculous. On the third one, I was able to call the office.

The phone rang for what seemed like a good two or three minutes. My mind went directly to the worst conceivable possibilities. My dearest friends should have been right there, ready to answer. Unless something was horribly wrong.

Rayleen finally came on the line, “Oh, God, we thought they got you.”

“They did, but I am a Phoenix. I rise from the ashes. You and Hugo alright?”

“He has been looking for a trail, trying to track you down,” she told me. “He calls in about every 10 minutes. When he calls again I’ll send him for you. Where are you?”

I gave her my location and asked how they were.

“They decimated the whole floor, but you would have been proud of us. We knocked them around,” her pride was palpable, “but they ruined the phones. That’s what took so long to answer. We cobbled together a makeshift system that is, I’m afraid, going to cost a ton.”

“Rayleen?” I asked.

“Yeah?”

“I’m a millionaire.”

A pause of realization was followed by, “I always forget, Boss. I still fold the toilet paper to make it last. Not used to so much money being in the mix.”

“Rayleen?” I asked.

“Yeah?”

“That was more than I needed to know.”

“Understood. You want anything to eat when you get here?”

“Better have Dr. Grayson there to take a look at my jaw before I order food.”

She restrained, but not well, a gasp.

“She hit me in the face with a pistol,” I explained.

“She?” She was a complete emotional turnaround.

“I’ll tell you everything when I get there.”

“It’s time for Hugo’s call,” she hurried me, “I’ll send him right there.”

We hung up and the sidewalk beckoned to my butt. I leaned up against a building and tried not to lose consciousness again.

When Hugo got there we quickly checked out the warehouse where I had been.

They were all gone.

The landlord said they had leased this building and the one of either side under the name “Sentalia Developments.”

Yeah, she was indeed a development. But not a good one.

They had cleaned everything out in less than an hour and left not a single clue behind,

Being a Phoenix sucks.

seymoure

The Ilium Obligation (A Matt Savage Adventure) Chapter 17 (Reply)

Mythical Creatures

“Mythology is what we call

someone else’s religion.”

-Joseph Campbell

“You are making me look very bad,” she whispered.

It didn’t sink in at all.

“My boys are looking,” she continued. “First I can’t seduce you, then I can’t threaten you. Then I get mad enough to hit you. They don’t like it when I get out of control. It makes me look . . . like a ‘chick.’”

“I wasn’t crazy about it myself,” I whispered back, conspiratorially, “And some of the best folks I know are ‘chicks.’”

Her first reflex would have been to curl her lip and then hit me again. Before anyone farther away than I could see, she decided on another tack.

She put on her “pouty” lips and dabbed the cloth on my temple again. “I hate to say it,” she informed me, “but you DID make me do that.”

I think there was vinegar on the cloth.

My head spun just a bit. The thought of vomit was rumbling around inside my skull. I turned in one direction and pushed her hand away to keep from puking on her.

The men stepped toward us, ready to kill me if I hurt their girl. She stopped them with a look.

Control came back into the picture, and I released her arm.

“What do you want for the horse?” she asked.

“I don’t have it,” I told her, not knowing where that came from, not being something I was ready to put into the discussion at this point. That’s sort of an “anti-trump card” that you try to hold on to until the last trick.

“Who brought you into this?” she was not ready to let an advantage go, “Was it Perry? Anderson? Gaspion?”

I must have reacted to Gaspion’s name.

“Gaspion?” she repeated, “Damn, this is farther along than I thought. Alright, he’s got nothing.”

She stood up and spoke to her minions, “Pull out, there’s lots to do.”

Within a minute they were all gone.

I sat alone in the warehouse.

It took me a half an hour to get out of my bonds. You would have thought they would have had the courtesy to cut me loose. It came to me a bit later that they didn’t want me to see which way they were going, or the complete scope of their team.

Was it just the handful of armed men I had seen, or were there back-up troops and support forces I didn’t know about?

It was like somebody had their own atomic bomb, and they were selling it to the highest bidder.

I stumbled into the elevator and then out onto the road; the light was growing weak in the sky, and there was no one on the street. My legs were as flimsy as red licorice.

It was a few minutes later before my knees showed up to join in the progress. They complained, but they were there.

The first two public phones I found were damaged or destroyed. Nobody liked the phone company, but this was ridiculous. On the third one, I was able to call the office.

The phone rang for what seemed like a good two or three minutes. My mind went directly to the worst conceivable possibilities. My dearest friends should have been right there, ready to answer. Unless something was horribly wrong.

Rayleen finally came on the line, “Oh, God, we thought they got you.”

“They did, but I am a Phoenix. I rise from the ashes. You and Hugo alright?”

“He has been looking for a trail, trying to track you down,” she told me. “He calls in about every 10 minutes. When he calls again I’ll send him for you. Where are you?”

I gave her my location and asked how they were.

“They decimated the whole floor, but you would have been proud of us. We knocked them around,” her pride was palpable, “but they ruined the phones. That’s what took so long to answer. We cobbled together a makeshift system that is, I’m afraid, going to cost a ton.”

“Rayleen?” I asked.

“Yeah?”

“I’m a millionaire.”

A pause of realization was followed by, “I always forget, Boss. I still fold the toilet paper to make it last. Not used to so much money being in the mix.”

“Rayleen?” I asked.

“Yeah?”

“That was more than I needed to know.”

“Understood. You want anything to eat when you get here?”

“Better have Dr. Grayson there to take a look at my jaw before I order food.”

She restrained, but not well, a gasp.

“She hit me in the face with a pistol,” I explained.

“She?” She was a complete emotional turnaround.

“I’ll tell you everything when I get there.”

“It’s time for Hugo’s call,” she hurried me, “I’ll send him right there.”

We hung up and the sidewalk beckoned to my butt. I leaned up against a building and tried not to lose consciousness again.

When Hugo got there we quickly checked out the warehouse where I had been.

They were all gone.

The landlord said they had leased this building and the one of either side under the name “Sentalia Developments.”

Yeah, she was indeed a development. But not a good one.

They had cleaned everything out in less than an hour and left not a single clue behind,

Being a Phoenix sucks.

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