The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm orange glow through a thick layer of smog that choked the city below like an omnipresent rain cloud. That was Tyler's first impression of the City of Angels: a dark mass of haze at the end of a journey through picturesque green valleys and hills, then the first tips of skyscrapers rising from the horizon of traffic and highway. His eyes were heavy, head resting on his fist, the other barely holding the wheel. He had driven through the night and hadn't slept since...
Fuck, when was the last time I slept?
Even thinking about it had become a daunting task. Though once one hotwires a car, it's a prudent choice not to sit around and nap. The mess of tangled wires and plugs brushed against his knees as the car rolled to a stop, then lurched forward again. Then stopped. He rubbed the tiredness from his eyes and yawned. A car honked behind him, and he flipped it off before creeping another five feet toward the city. A long line of red rear lights stared back at him.
Tyler drummed his fingers against the steering wheel and reached for the radio. Static. Static. A preacher warning of the fires of hell. More static. Eventually he found an old rock station and left it there. The singer wailed about heartbreak while traffic lurched forward in short bursts.
The engine skipped a few beats, shaking the car.
"Hang in there," he muttered, patting the dashboard.
The car answered with an unhappy rattle from somewhere beneath the hood. Fair enough.
A few minutes crawled by. Another few yards gained. The song ended. The engine coughed once, then again, the whole chassis shuddering beneath him.
The mass of traffic started moving again, but the engine sputtered when he pressed the pedal.
As soon as it starts moving… just my luck.
The fuel gauge had been sitting heavy in the red for the better part of an hour, and even if he had money on him, he wasn't interested in handing the car back with a full tank. Tyler smiled at the thought of someone towing the hunk of junk all the way back to San Francisco—the trip might cost more than the car itself.
He tried the pedal again, and that finally put the engine out of its misery. For a moment he considered leaving it in the middle of the road, but decided against it. It's the thought that counts.
He shifted into neutral and coasted onto the shoulder, tires screeching, horns blaring behind him. The sound made him smile. He gave them a taunting wave and a cheerful toot of the horn as they passed.
Minutes turned to hours as the sun beat down on him, the heat radiating off the pavement wrapping him in a stifling blanket of sweat. The only wind came from cars speeding past him. The heat, the dusty hills, the exhaustion in his sluggish legs growing more pronounced with each step. It would have been a good idea to get some sleep before he started—perhaps a night's rest would have given him time to realize how foolish it all was, if he'd given it any thought at all. The doubt nagged at him as his mouth dried up, the water melting out of him like butter in an oven. Water—that would have been a good idea as well. Perhaps that was for the best though; delirium made it harder to think about much else than the next step. Right foot, then left.
The highway gave way to hills and shrubbery. He had stumbled onto a dirt path with thin, spindly trees on either side, offering little shade, but any shade was welcome. The freeway roar faded to a distant hum, then birds, then the soft rustling of leaves.
When he finally looked up from his feet, the sun had started to set. He took a few breaths, then leaned against the railing of a pedestrian bridge and rested his head on the cool concrete parapet. When his eyes opened, the city unfolded below him: a great grey slab, spreading like a cancer throughout the valley. The skyline looked like it was on fire against the glow of the sun, lights beginning to shimmer already, and his stomach sank at the vastness of it. The city seemed to swallow the whole horizon.
Where's the sign? he thought, his eyes wandering. Isn't there supposed to be a big sign?
"Ahh, fuck it…"
Tyler turned, and his back slid down the wall. He sat a moment, just breathing. Then he raked his fingers through his hair, then rubbed his face, the sweat pleasantly moistening his skin, before letting his hands rest across his knees.
"Ha, there she is, speak of the devil…" There it was, looming above him, high on a mountain: the great white letters spelling "Hollywood," though one of the O's in "Wood" was riddled with holes, and the middle of the "H" was missing, making it look more like two I's. Tyler blinked, then blinked again.
"What the fuck am I doing?" It was a good question, though one asked many hours too late. Years late, if he were being honest.
Tyler shook his head and spat. Where do I even start? He gathered himself for a few moments, then peeked his head out as if the city were a monster he was hiding from. The longer he looked, the more lights blinked to life, the heart of the city cut in half by an endless stream of car lights and street lamps. Sirens too, he noticed, when he focused his ears. Constant, like a ceaseless ringing.
Tyler shook his head, wiped the sweat from his face, and took a deep breath. He looked left, then right.
"Well, he's not here," he thought aloud. Thomas might've found that funny if he were here. It made a smirk tug at the corner of his lip.
"This is about as good a place as any to start, I guess… needle in a fucking haystack." He stretched and continued on. Two feet and a heartbeat, that's all you need... Some water would be nice though.
The moon hung high in the sky when he took his first steps out of the hills and down into the streets of the city proper. His people were already out in droves, the homeless vagrants and miscreants, drunkards and prospective overdosed, the castaways, cutouts, and of course, losers. The scents filled his nose, exhaust, sewage, alcohol and vomit, smoke of every denomination, legal or otherwise. Incense. The scent was faint, but lingered on his nose, he looked around, as though that would give him a clue, shook his head, and kept walking, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
He wandered down Highland Avenue, and passed a grand old cathedral, stone walls stained with age, the stained glass much the same, barely any colour visible through the grime. A few tents were set up around it, and he wondered if he should take a chance to see if any of them were unoccupied, but just then as he crossed an alleyway, he caught another whiff of incense, strong this time, it stopped him in his tracks. Tyler stared down into the blackness of an alley. The hairs on the back of his neck standing upright. Just a coincidence... Bound to be some of us around. They can smell me too... Nothing to worry about.
"Just passing through..." Tyler muttered.
Tyler failed to convince himself, he stumbled forward, tripping over his own feet, before recovering and continuing toward... Well, he didn't know where. Away from here is plenty fine. Some Fiends you could trust to lend a helping hand, but more often than not it wasn't worth finding out who was who.
His imagination began to fill every shadow in with figures, and the exhaustion wasn't helping soothe his nerves in that regard. Thoughts drifted to old stories his father had told them all around campfires when he was still a child, about cannibals and Abominations, Fiends who hunted each other for sport, and for food. Very suddenly, he felt quite small. He looked behind his shoulder, and he could have sworn a shadow ducked into an alley.
Impact. Something knocked into his chest with a thud. Adrenaline coursed through him like an electric shock.
"Watch where the fuck you goin' bitch!" The man sucked his teeth and shouldered past him. He smelled of meat, scarce relief.
Tyler breathed in, and exhaled, trying to steady his heart. He looked around, disoriented. There it was again, stronger now. His eyes darted toward a rooftop across the street, where he spotted a slim figure looking down at him. Hooded, but he felt their eyes on him. He swallowed hard, then gave the figure a half-hearted wave. They stared at each other for a moment, then the figure waved back, seemingly amused.
Great... Tyler turned and continued on, a little faster this time. He ducked into a side street and picked up the pace, his presumed imminent death granting him a much needed second wind.
A bit anti-climactic, isn't it? Tyler thought, fighting the urge to look over his shoulder. First night in the city, and dusted? He forced a grin, but he didn't find it funny, or even amusing frankly. Mom won't be too happy to hear about that... The preformative grin left his face just as fast as it arrived.
The air was heavy with it now, his eyes scanned the rooftops, but he couldn't see anything. All the better. He didn't feel like giving them the satisfaction of turning around, so they could see the fear in his eyes, he was sure they could smell it on him anyway.
He breathed, trying desperately to steady his heart. In and out, in and out. The second wind was evidently more of a breeze, and the exhaustion was hitting him again, harder than before. He spotted a sign for a park and crossed the street toward it. Something landed on the sidewalk behind him, but he didn't look back.
It was small, or at least the darkness made it seem that way. A small fountain trickled away at its centre beneath a flickering lamp post, a few benches circled around the path, vacant, thankfully, so he knew where he'd be sleeping tonight, if he lived. Silver linings...
Tyler sat at the edge of the fountain, lapping water up to his mouth with his hands, chock-full of all kinds of filth no doubt, but to him, dehydrated and thoroughly beyond caring, it tasted as sweet as wine.
He didn't look at them right away, but he heard their footsteps, felt their presence, took in their scent. He splashed some water on his face, took a deep breath, and turned.
"Got any smokes?"
There were three of them, two men and a woman, though very little could be ascertained besides that: baggy dark clothes, hoods, and beneath them masks that just barely caught the flickering light from the lamp post. They exchanged looks. The taller of the men stayed by the park entrance to dissuade any witnesses, he surmised, while the other two approached him.
"You're new." The woman whispered in a soft voice, muffled by her mask. As she got closer to the light, more features revealed themselves: black and white porcelain, with a sharp beak, feathers fanned out around the outside. The man beside her was tall, taller than him by at least a foot, broad-shouldered but thin. His mask looked less impressive, closer to a Halloween mask; flimsy plastic, red, resembling a pig.
"Stanley Kubrick fans?" Tyler asked.
Beak cocked her head. "What?"
"The director? Eyes Wide Shut? No?"
Beak looked to Snout, who shrugged, "What the fuck are you talking about?"
Tyler yawned. "I've been awake for like three days, lady. Your guess is as good as mine."
"Cut the shit!" yelled Beak, before lowering her voice, "You're new-"
"Yeah, you said that. What gave it away?" Tyler stood up and sidestepped slowly toward a bench, careful to keep them both in front of him.
"You must present yourself to the Baron," Beak stated.
"Who says?" Tyler.
Snout spoke up, "Look, man, this doesn't have to be difficult."
"Look, man," Tyler echoed, "I'm not going anywhere with anyone."
"This isn't up for discussion. You're coming with us," Beak interjected, increasingly agitated.
Bit of a temper on that one, can't imagine why. Tyler took another few steps. "You're gonna have to carry me then, because the current plan is I'm taking a long fucking nap on this bench over here, and at this point I don't care if I wake up from it."
She took a step forward. "No, you're-"
"It's calling my name, seriously."
Another dangerous step, but Snout put a hand on her shoulder. "We can't leave you unattended in the city until you've presented yourself to the Baron."
"Well, there's plenty of benches to go around." Tyler motioned around the empty park with his hands.
Snout sighed, his breath catching in his mask like radio static. "We're trying to be reasonable with you..."
Tyler snorted. "Not going well, is it?"
"Enough of this..." Beak said, quickly stealing back the space Tyler had been trying to gain.
"HELP!" Tyler shouted. "HELP ME!"
Beak flinched. "Are you crazy!? Keep your voice down!"
Tyler laughed. "Why? So you can fucking kidnap me? By the eyes you're making at me, you'd probably make a move too..."
Beak seized him. She was stronger than him, forearms like blocks of lead. Tyler struggled and wriggled as she tried to cover his mouth. He bit her hand and she shrieked.
"HELP!" Tyler laughed as though he were being tickled, spitting the taste of her out of his mouth, vile and sour. "SHE'S RAPING ME! HELP!" he cackled, then took a hard punch in the gut that stopped that nonsense rather quickly. Beak grabbed him by his mohawk, forcing their eyes to lock, two amber rings that seemed to glow in the dark sockets of her mask.
"Quiet!" The word was harsh like venom. Blood trickled down the back of her hand as she put a finger to the mouth of her mask, shushing him. "What the fuck is your problem!?"
Tyler noticed movement from the entrance of the park. The Fiend was trying to signal something—what it was, he couldn't be certain. Ha. And then an Inq on night watch slaughtered them all in a park, the end.
"Uh oh," Tyler whispered, teeth gleaming as he motioned his head to the entrance. "Looks like a good Samaritan is coming to save the day."
Beak turned to look, as did Snout, and Tyler seized the moment. He kicked at her legs as hard as he could, sweeping them out from under her. As she fell, she yanked his mohawk down with her, and they tumbled into the gravel together. She yelled something, and he hammered his head into her mask, then wrenched himself free from her grasp. Snout was on him now though, and he stumbled backward, tripping over one of the bench legs and barely staying on his feet.
As Snout stepped forward, Tyler stepped back.
"This is really how you wanna play this?" Snout asked.
"She started it," Tyler replied, as Beak got up and readjusted her mask.
"Yeah? Now we gotta end it. Didn't think that through, huh?"
"Never do. Waste of time, if you ask me." His back hit a chain-link fence, and he stole a glance at the park entrance, the third man nowhere to be seen.
A muffled laugh caught in Snout's mask, and that made Tyler grin.
Incense filled the air, hot in his nose. Ah, fuck...
Snout's Profanity crawled out from his back, the air around it shimmering like a mirage. A heavy, armoured mass spread along one side of his body, locking onto his spine and digging into his shoulder in thick, uneven plates, coalescing into a thick blade. Then he lunged forward, dragged off balance by the weight of it.
Tyler's eyes widened. The panic sank deep. He pushed his back against the metal, tried to focus on his shoulder, the pressure built, but fizzled fast, not nearly as fast as Snout was approaching. He closed his eyes and raised his hands to defend himself.
He heard a crash, a breathy grunt. Something hit the ground hard, then a wet and familiar crack; the sound of broken bones. A muffled scream.
Tyler opened his eyes.
Snout was on the ground, face in the dirt. A rough ring of disturbed earth spread out from where he'd been driven down. His arm was still half-raised before slowly sagging back into the soil.
A slim figure was on top of him, one knee planted between his shoulders, pinning him easily. Snout twitched once like he was going to push up again, then stopped as she pressed down, forcing out another scream into the dirt.
The figure stood and stepped off him; a petite little thing, dainty, yet she still loomed over Snout, who scrambled back from her in the dirt like she was a Goliath.
"Your friend's in the alley across the street. Let's call it a night, 'kay?"
"Really not your night, huh?" Tyler taunted.
The figure giggled. Beak looked like she might try something stupid, but Snout grabbed her and used her to pull himself up, groaning against his broken ribs.
"Not worth it, Mel," Snout wheezed, as his Profanity retreated. "You know who she's with."
Beak shot him a dirty look, then a glance at Tyler, then back at Snout with a resigned nod and a frustrated groan.
"Let's go..."
The figure watched them scurry away, then turned to face him. Tyler was taken aback. Her face was decorated in elaborate makeup—she looked like a clown, or a harlequin: a stark white face, a black heart at the tip of her nose, deep red lips, one side curling up into a smile, the other down into a frown. One of her eyes was at the centre of a blue star, the other a red heart. Pretty.
"Uh..." Tyler blinked. "Hi?"
The figure smiled and waved dramatically. "Yo!" Her voice was young and bubbly, and she walked weightlessly, carelessly. One of her fingers traced the fence beside him, and her nails sliced through the thin metal like paper.
"Shall we?" she asked, stepping through the gash and holding it open like a valet would a door.
"Right..." Tyler looked around, weighing his options, then stepped through after her. "Thanks... uh...?"
"Andrea. My friends call me Andy."
"Are we friends?"
"Hm, we'll see how the rest of the night goes. You haven't made things easy on me so far."
"What, with them? They started it."
Andy laughed. "Yeah, that's kinda their job, dummy." She crossed her arms, shook her head, and tutted her tongue as though she were scolding a child. "Picking a fight with the Masquerade your first night? They told me you were a bit dense, but that's like glue-eating level."
Nice. Tyler breathed a laugh. "More of a crayon man myself."
Andy giggled, crooked smile spreading from ear to ear. "Yeah, that tracks. I hear the red ones are delectable." They turned a corner and crossed a street.
"So... who's 'they' exactly?"
"Ha! Wouldn't you like to know?" Andy teased. "Don't worry, you'll be meeting them tomorrow. Well, most of them."
"What the fuck's happening tomorrow?"
"You're helping us tomorrow."
Tyler frowned. "Helping who?"
"You'll find out tomorrow."
"With what?"
Andrea giggled. "Don't worry. It'll be worth your while."
"...Am I getting paid?"
"Ha, no."
Tyler grinned, "...Am I getting lucky?"
"Ew, gross."
Damn.