The Bounty
Dead or Alive
“No, no, no. Where is it?”
Floyd rifled through the mess of papers and logbooks strewn across the lobby desk. His face was flush and beads of sweat splashed onto the counter, an oily patina now catching the mid-morning sun.
“This can’t be happening!”
The old cloth-covered chair that stunk of unwashed ass flew back into the wall as he jumped to his feet. He raised onto his tippy toes and threw open the upper cabinet doors. He couldn’t see the top shelf but swept his hand side to side, hoping he’d find it.
“Not again, Jimmy, you asshole!”
Floyd threw up his hands and fell back hard into the office chair. A sticky warm puff of dust, dander, and unseemly odors wafted out of the fibers and quickly enveloped him.
His head was throbbing and the sun was just cresting the lobby desk. For the next three hours it would overtake his workspace and drain whatever life he had left in him. He pressed deep into tension pockets throbbing above his eyes. For the briefest moment, he thought about swallowing his own tongue.
But then he saw it.
On top of the fire extinguisher cabinet, his last hope to salvage the day, Jimmy’s ashtray.
He jumped to his feet, this time the chair launching into the back office with such speed and force it nearly shattered against the manager’s desk. But Floyd didn’t care. He raced to the fire cabinet and reached for it, hands trembling.
Like an archaeologist carefully dusting off a priceless fossil, Floyd sifted through it and found two ‘Cadillacs.’ An ironic name they’d given to giant half-smoked joints, roaches to others.
He let out a long, drawn-out sigh and wheeled the chair back to the counter. He fished a set of retro sunglasses from his duffle bag and then sat down and stretched as if he was just now waking up for the day. Taking a set of tweezers from one of the drawers, he raised the Cadillac to his mouth and clicked the igniter on his torch lighter.
The whoosh of the butane flame was hypnotic. He watched the paper ignite and took a long steady inhale. Eyes closed, he leaned back in his chair, a calm settling over him.
“What are you doing?”
The voice was shrill and unexpected. He lost his grip on the tweezers and inhaled the rest of the roach. The red hot cherry sizzled as it hit his tongue.
“Ow!” He shrieked. “The fuck you doing sneaking up on me like that?”
The woman grinned with satisfaction but the man was not amused. “You are in mortal peril. The Syndicate of Shadows has placed a bounty on your head. Dead or alive.”
“Give it a rest Count Chocula, I’m not in the mood today.”
Undeterred, the man continued. “If you do not value your life, good sir, then please allow me to deliver you myself. I promise to bring you in alive. Although, when the Syndicate gets a hold of you, you may very well wish you were dead.”
“I’m already wishing I was dead, you’re a total buzz kill.”
“Watch your tone, sir. Do you not know who this is? This is Raziel Delacartes, bounty hunter extraordinaire, trained in the ways of the eldritch knight.” The woman said, stepping forward, her silhouette carving darkness out of the light.
“Blah blah blah. You two need to get a new shtick.”
Raziel’s hand moved to his rapier as the woman leaned over the desk and hissed. “We only need to bring in your head, sir Floyd.”
But he wasn’t listening. Her breasts were nearly bursting out of her intricately stitched, low-cut bodice. Despite his demeanor, Floyd had been daydreaming about her frequently this past week. Something about a woman with elf ears and sharp cut features drove him wild.
The man saw the lust in Floyd’s eyes and drew his blade. “I will not allow this insolence to go unanswered.”
“Ok, Fucko,” Floyd slammed his fist on the desk, rattling his guests. “I told you yesterday. Cosplay all you want, but if you want to swing your little lightsaber around, fuck on off next door to play with the rest of the weirdos.”
“How dare you?” The man gasped as he flung his cape dramatically and stomped off towards the exit.
The woman lingered for a moment, twirling a finger through her blonde locks. Then she leaned in even closer as if about to whisper. Her lips parted softly. The whole room faded until there was nothing but her beautiful emerald eyes. Floyd leaned in towards her and then she winked and spun around before hurrying to the exit.
Caught halfway to a kiss, frozen in embarrassment, Floyd collapsed back into his chair.
“Fucking comic-con.”
This flash fiction story was inspired by a combo of both a visual and written prompt from Joshua Bader
Prompt: Tell me a story about the day your character met these two. The male calmly informs you that you have a bounty on your head and he'd be happy to bring you in alive. The girl says all they need to bring in is your head. What's your move?
Need more?
His name is Raziel Delacartes and he is a consummate professional bounty hunter. Trained in the ways of the eldritch knight, he combines quick saber attacks, manipulative whip work, and hold spells to control exactly where his opponent can and can’t go.
Selene was… exiled is such a harsh word… for indulging in her darker appetites. Her divination magic makes her useful to him, but its his deep passion for her that keeps them together.
About Liminal Space Creative
Independent creator attempting to spill the messy worlds in my head onto the page. At present, I am attending online design school as part of a very unexpected and unplanned career change. This space is where I will share random pieces of the journey: inspiration, experiments, school projects, and lessons I learn along the way.