Alexander's Accounts - Chapter 21
Follow several plotlines at once with a writing style entirely new to my previous work - good luck reading and
Hey, this is also the style i use when writing; write several scenes at once and swtich between them as i hit hard-writing points and easy-writing points.
Each set of scenes in this chapter follows its own line of time; they align differently on main time. Chronological order is not guaranteed.
Part 21 of Alexander’s Accounts, talking over Alexander’s holidays on Earth
Cubit looked into Biblia’s eyes as the sun set outside. “I’ve told you for the upteemth time that I’m bored here.”
Biblia rolled her eyes. “I’ve already told you I’m asexual. Go to horny jail.”
She walks to the kitchen to monitor how the flesh was doing, roasting in the oven. Alexander must be safely on earth, she thinks. He’s sorted enough to have the currency converted and be in some nice Barcelona hotel, she hopes.
Artemis stood at the street corner under a flickering light. Drugs always sell best where you’re hidden. A new client walks up with a sicko smile. Artemis smiles too, expecting another wad of cash.
The client is giving bad vibes, though; not someone Artemis would want to be with. No, he drops the smile and stares across, appearing as nothing more than an alienated busy bored businessman.
The “client” has already seen though. Under this jurisdiction, a crime committed is a crime committed, whether or not a police officer instigated it.
“Hello”, says the client. “Do you have any herricane?”
“No, you should know hurricanes are an earth-specific thing”, said Artemis. “Except for the 10-year storm, which we’re overdue for.”
The client frowned. “You know I want herricane.”
Artemis chuckled. “And you go to the respectable man waiting for his taxi.”
Police officers here are used to luxury. They’re used to power. Defiant little specks are nothing more than inconveniences. As an undercover, though, he can’t blow the cover until he’s sure.
“Show me the inside of your coat”, said the officer.
The doctor at his house looked at the calendar. Money gets tighter each week with inflation. He remembered walking upstairs to that weird fort-flat and seeing herricane.
He hadn’t heard back since. Police give good bribes to those who report. So, he did just that, as the sun set.
And anyway, he had never really liked humans and their conspiracies.
Cubit sits on the sofa. He’s tired of this place and its weirdos; the view outside nothing but the brackish dark night. The police are to come soon — what if he decides he wants to go to prison?
A knock on the door. Biblia opened it in a lapse of judgment, inviting a policeman. He smiled awkwardly. “So, about the cut… if you don’t want me to report you… I want, like, maybe, ¤200?”
Biblia mocked shock. “All we made is ¤150! Do you realise how cheap it is!”
The policeman straightened. “You know you got way more than ¤500. I’m not playing.”
Rolled eyes. “Fine”, Biblia said. “If you really must know, we got ¤550.”
“That’s more like it.”
They still glared at each other.
“So, the ¤200?”, nudged the policeman.
“Come back later, we’re investing on expanding our operations.”
“So ¤400?”
“Fine”, Biblia said, closing the door, but not entirely.
She looked at Cubit, a dash of anxiety running like a shot of the mentofruit liquor she misses within her system. “Actually, come in, have a cup of tea.”
That asshole better be called out, conspired Biblia.
“No, don’t”, said Cubit. “I’d rather be alone with her.”
Really should be, realised Biblia
The policeman understood. It was his obligation — protect those who would otherwise be unprotected.
Not again, not the passive witness, not the justifier, not the defender. I’m the only solution here, he recalled what he said to himself a while back. Today i prove i am new. Today is when the asshole stops.
He sat in the living room, smiling at Cubit with poison. Fuck you.
Artemis shivered out there, under the flickering. “Please, just let me catch my taxi, it’s so cold.”
“Coat”, commanded the policeman.
The street was empty, dark. Nowhere to hide.
Artemis shrugged. “And what credentials do you have to prove you can search me?”
The policeman brought out his hologram, embellished with the southern emblem. He was a police officer, no doubt, thought Artemis. He totally knows, thought the Police Officer. whatever, thought Artemis about the police officer.
They stared at each other for a good second. No, now isn’t the time, thought Artemis.
Luckily, his coat hid something from his good old days. “Well, fine, here are the drugs you speak so poorly of”, he said, retrieving a Ziploc bag of coffee grounds.
When he first met Alexander, he was given them to brew. He saved them for later, and they returned the favour.
The policeman frowned.
“You do realise how expensive they are in the black market?”, asked Artemis. “A chef gave me it to sell for him.”
The policeman refused to leave. “Under the law of year-190, legislature 34, I am allowed to search your coat.”
Two can play at that game. Artemis bluffed too. “That is a fake law.”
The policeman rolled his eyes. Had he finally had enough? Was he about to walk off?
Yes and yes, hoped Artemis. Yes and no, decided the policeman. He’d been called here by his good qualified friend. This guy was out cold not too long ago.
“Stop the act”, he said, drawing out his pistol. “Show me the inside”.
Artemis shrugged. Cold nights demand thick coats the width of two — or two the width of one.
The inside was empty. Plump, but empty. Artemis had proved the officer wrong and smiled in superiority.
Upwards of 800 km north sits an old man in his workplace. He bought it himself, a place to clean. His office has fallen apart. At one point he’ll throw it out and go live alone. He’s already washed all his money, anyway.
He remembers the old days, working with his partner. He almost felt love, but his work was always better.
Mentofruit are a most wonderful fruit, a perversion of biology alike many things in the wereworld, including himself.
With a cup of tea, the policeman smiled. Hospitality is rare nowadays.
Cubit stared at Biblia’s form, her lines, her curves. “I said I’m bored.”
Biblia rolled her eyes. “Look, Artemis offered to spoon you. If you’re really that horny, go sleep with him.”
“He said it when he was high.”
“If you’re not desperate enough for werewolf dick, go shut up”, said Biblia. “And I’m serious.”
Cubit rolled his eyes but nevertheless listened. An officer is watching.
The policeman was underdressed and under-served. He threw his pistol to the ground — a liability-avoiding measure, and moved in to punch Artemis.
Artemis does not like being attacked. He pushes back and throws the policeman to the ground, turns the corner, and hides behind a random door.
The policeman’s been working on his intution; he slams open the first door he saw and squashes Artemis with the sharpish doorhinge. “Found you, bitch.”
“No swearing on duty”, Artemis quipped. He jumped onto the policeman to throw him onto the ground, but was subverted by his superior standing stance and pushed back into the gap between door and wall.
“Do you want herricane or bribes?”, asked Artemis finally.
The policeman stepped back and smirked.
“Bri-”, punched by Artemis, the policeman said. Blood trickled out of a bent nose lit a sickly colour by the light. Artemis smiled, the policman losing control over his facial expression.
A light rain began, barely a pattering of drops. Werewolvian peninsula rain is always weak and barely existent. All it is is an excuse for roofs to exist. But it fit the situation, Artemis decided.
One punch, reminisced Artemis. I’ve gotten better since the powder days.
Artemis ran to the stairwell and up to the flat, poised to knock.
Either that or he’s just weak. Modern officers ????.
“You know how after a tartfruit you work better?”, asked the manager, at the crack of dawn.
“Yeah”, nodded Charlechine.
“I think we can snort that.”
Charlechine and his peer smiled cheekily.
“You just need to dry it up”, said the manager. “Make it dust.”
The peer was already considering all the options. He had plenty ideas to try.
Another knock at the door: Artemis.
Biblia welcomed him in. The policeman craned his neck to look.
Artemis explained between breaths. “I was selling… and this guy came… took out a police card… threw his gun down and chased me down… so I had to… punch… him… unconsci-”
“Look”, said Biblia, pointing at the policeman.
Artemis went from an unfocused exhaustion to a “fuck, what did I do” smile.
“Just give me a packet and you’ll be fine”, he said.
“Really?”, asked Artemis.
“Yes”, said the policeman.
Cubit gazed at Biblia.
“Stop it or I’m forcing you into the brothel”, she said.
The policeman was listening, and turned his head. He nodded towards Biblia. Fuck this guy, both ways, he decided.
“You trying to catch me is like Alexander trying to catch you”, Biblia quipped. “I have 100 here, go get a hoe.”
“No need”, stated the policeman. “I’ll pay.”
He took a real wad of 100 and gave it to Cubit. “Have fun and leave the lady alone.”
Cubit rolled his eyes but did follow the instructions.
“We cracked the code”, began the peer, as the sun dipped below the horizon. “Raw tartfruit powder, perfectly potent.”
The manager chuckled in his dark way. “Now sell it. Both of you.”
Charlechine and the peer looked at each other and giggled. They were onto something and they knew it. The big guy was happy.
They left the shady town’s basement with Ziploc bags of their product and walked the streets, hunting for clients. The TV place gave the peer a gut “no” when he first came, but he’s glad he stayed. Charlechine was worth it.
And now he has ¤200 in his pockets from committing favours, the casual arson of the loan-unpayer, the gathering of workers for that place the one with yellow arms worked at, and a few more favours for the manager.
He feels bad sometimes, knowing people get hurt, but the manager and his friends are always happy to see him complete missions, plenty of praise and money. Youth makes him the quickest and most powerful, after all.
Sweet, naïve 18.
Artemis smiles as he lets PC Frankichon out into the hallway. “Get home safe!”
Artemis and Biblia, all alone. It was a little awkward, but much better than Cubit and Biblia.
“So, how’s it been?”, asked Artemis.
Biblia turned to look out the window onto the streets with those most horrible orange lights. “It’s worse than last time, Cubit’s been ‘bored’ lately. He’s trying to take it out on me.”
“Immature asshole”, said Artemis.
Mature 20. The age gap between him and Artemis is acceptable. The species gap must also be.
PC Charleston returned that day with a gash in their forehead. The nightshift’s not done, so he best do his job!
The clerk does not like that. “Go to the hospital and recover.”
“But I want to continue catching sellers”, replied Charleston.
“Go. I’ve already put it in the register.”
Charleston felt secretly happy that he didn’t have to work.
Getting on the good side of the higher ups was always a good thing.
(unless more busywork is given)
Frankichon came through the door as Charleston left. They stopped on the boundary. “Just saved someone from harassment”, said Frankichon.
“And the drug case?”, asked Charleston. “This seller guy literally attacked me and ran off.”
“Got evidence?”
Charles shrugged. “He showed coffee grains and showed the empty inside of his inner coat.”
“Don’t worry about him. I’ll have his face pasted over the city tomorrow so he never attacks.”
(but he wouldn’t)
Charles shook his head. “No, I don’t remember it anymore.”
Good, Frank thought. It was too together, the werewolf going to the humans’s flat, and Charles being attacked. I guess I’ll tell them off.
Charlechine’s running up north at 300 km/h, his face pasted all over the city. Biggest drug lord, biggest risk.
Artemis decided to stay. He’d work with the TV and get them to new heights and retire rich.
He spent the night crying, of course. He’d never be able to find Charlechine again.
It was worth it, though. ¤2000 in his account, growing, and the opportunity to find another friend.
This time he wanted a human to protect.
Cubit hired a prostitute and went into a room with her.
Cubit needs a connection for it to work well, so tries to start conversation, find a spark. There isn’t any to be had.
He leaves, ¤200 less of a man. Wait — no, he decides to stay and try.
But no, he was right to choose to leave. The sex sucked and was only physical release.
All three of them sat facing the table in the flat. Morning soup wasn’t salty enough, the only salt being tinged in asbestos. The warning said.
Biblia’s thoughts drifted to Barcelona, where Alexander was sleeping in a hostel, probably revealing the werewolf world’s secrets like some drunkard. Cubit wanted to be alone, away from the people he’d annoy. Artemis wanted Alexander on his lap. The currency exchange guy’s probably borrowing him. Maybe he’s exploring some new moves. Artemis doesn’t mind. If anything, Alexander will have some new positions and views to share.
(the policeman went to the hospital)
The doctor at his workplace eavesdropped.
(the policeman will be back in duty in a week)
The doctor at his workplace drew a connection.
(the new gang were having a newly-calm night)
The doctor at his workplace submitted a police report, connecting people.
(Charlechine manipulates southern bureaucracy to atone sins in his spare time)
The police report readers read a blank page.
(they have techniques to read it)
The police report readers are bad at reading.
(the New Gang were having a calm night.)
Stay tuned for part 22, in which Tom and Alexander get a negative distance from each other
Some notes:
I haven’t written a story in third person for what must be more than 5 years, so this is quite fun. Omniscience is quite fun to write with.
Feels too weird and distant for me to continue using it. If your opinion is contrary, feel free to comment/pm me and discuss, i’m open!
I hope it’s not too cheap that i’m making literally only the straight “relationship” so horrible. Just wanted to have some conflict for the two to have.
I think it’s really damn good i read the furry book - it has ideas on relationships and characters which i haven’t been exposed to much, like open relationships, differing views on sex (not just my default “sex is fun and the relationship isn’t that important”), and some cool magic systems.
Sorry that chapter 8 had “contuing from” instead “adding context to”. Oversight on my part.