Pages of the dairy of Dr. Kowalski

A couple of page torn out of a dairy

"You've wasted an hour of my time already, Dr. Kowalski. In your former line of work, I'm sure you know what the next part of an interrogation consists of. So, I would think it to be in your best interest if you would stop feigning ignorance and tell me where the specimens were stored. You were the senior researcher on that project - you know."

The uninvited man who spoke these words inside my apartment had burnt through three cigarettes since the interrogation had begun. Yes, my life was in danger, but I couldn't help feel most upset about the fact that the smell of his smokes was going to sink right into my furniture and carpet. my eyes had been turned downward through most of this; it wasn't that I couldn't look a man in his eyes and lie - I was quite effective at doing that well. She didn't think he was worthy of it.

This man, who introduced himself as Agent O'Brien, liked to smile. He carried the demeanour of a battle-hardened general and looked the part: short grey hair, a square jaw, and a tall build. His patience for the former researcher was waning, too - though the two masked lackeys he brought along kept as still as statues, waiting and watching.

"Let me ask you, Agent O'Brien," I began, gaze still affixed on the floor. "Have you been so busy trying to find me that you haven't even kept up with the news? Does 'The Vendion Accords Against Weaponized Monters' ring a bell for you, asshole?" I met his eyes on that last word

O'Brien stared past my glasses, pass my icy blue eyes; he stared straight through me.

"Hold her arm," he commanded one of his underlings. The masked man moved forward and grabbed my wrist. O'Brien seized the middle finger of my right hand at the base and drove the thinnest knife he had under my polished fingernail. I flailed a bit, trying not to scream. But I did, and my heart raced as I knew this would get much, much worse.

"The King hasn't ratified it yet - so I don't think the other country’s will be too keen on doing that either," O'Brien said with a bit of chuckle. My blood trickled out onto his black, leather glove. He wiped it off on my cheek. "Let me be clear - the drows have everything they need to fuck with that skin disease, all around Lake Baikal. You don't think it's reasonable for us to want to understand what could be used against us? Hell, I don't care what you think we're going to do with it. I want those specimens."

When I had finally caught my breath and stifled my urge to scream out in pain again, I pointed to my bedroom with my unharmed hand and said "Bottom left drawer, manila envelope. Something I kept with me since leaving the Organisation. I'm sure you'll find it interesting."

"Go check," O'Brien commanded his men, who in less than a minute had noisily ransacked the room and returned with a manila envelope just as I promised. O'Brien grabbed the envelope for a look inside. His satisfaction faded quickly.

"The fuck are these?" he asked as he began littering the floor with drawings. Now I would definitely keep my eyes turned up. O'Brien paused before discarding one, just long enough to have a good, long look before stating, "I don't think this ugly motherfucker with the fucked up jaw has anything to do with what I asked you for." Angry, he put out his latest cigarette on my neck. I gasped as the agonizing burn momentarily left my breathless.

"Let me tell you a story," said O'Brien. "Because I think your Organisation sure thought they were powerful hiding in the shadows. But I'd like to explain to you why you're wrong."

He pulled up a chair from my kitchen table and sat down across from me. I would endure whatever tale this prick wanted to spew - I only needed to wait now.

"When I was up and coming, I was a part of a team hunting down monster breeders. I had an idiot in custody, and this little spick was every bit uncooperative as you are now. He kept repeating 'Do you know who you're fucking with?'"

"He thought his clan was hot shit. He insisted they owned all the law enforcement in Westcaster, that they were the ones who owned the town. So I asked him, 'If you run this town, why do you bury your money, why do you have to smuggle your monsters? Surely', I said, 'if you're in charge, you'd peddle your monsters out in the open. You wouldn't tuck your crossbows.' I pulled out mine and shot him in his kneecap. 'That's power. I don't hide my crossbow, it's right here for you to see,' I said as he bled all over the floor."

"Your Organisation hid in the shadows, doctor. But let me make it abundantly clear for you. The power was always ours. Your 'anomalies' belong to us. Your research belongs to us. Your life belongs to us, and if I'm so inclined your ass belongs to me before I'm done with you. So one more time, I'm going to ask you what you did with the specimens because the next finger of yours I take my knife to is coming off."

"Sir," one of O'Brien's lackeys said. "I think there's something outside."

I shut my eyes as soon as I saw a long arm with corpse-like skin phase through the wall as if it weren't even there.

The crossbow shots and magic rang out in quick succession. The smell of blood filled my nostrils as I stared into darkness. I heard screams. I heard bones snapping. I even heard a sickening slurping sound I wouldn't want to see the source of, even if it wouldn't kill me. After a few minutes of pandemonium, agony, it was quiet again; save for the same awful breathing I remembered.

Eyes still shut tight, I felt my way to my front door. So much blood had soaked my carpet, every step I took made a sloshing sound. The smell of what just occurred would never come out either.

"Run along now, Shy," I told my saviour. "There are worse monsters in this world than you."