The door creaked open, and a small blonde girl stepped out. She gave us a smile, revealing white, straight teeth. She had brown eyes, average features, and a skinny physique. She wore a nurses uniform, teal scrubs and her hair back in a plait.
"Can I help you?" She asked. Her voice was high, and I moved back behind Josh's taller frame. I hated most people, and social interaction in general. I was a good actor, the only way I survived being the front man in our show.
"Yeah. Hi, I'm Sam." Sam said, stepping forward and offering his hand like the gentleman he is. She took it, widening her smile as she did.
"Jackie. Are you guys lost, or something?" She replied. Sam shook his head.
"This is the address we were told, ma'am. We're looking for someone." He stated. Her eyes wide-eyed for a second, and fear seemed to flit across her face for a moment.
"Ah, well…You see, the address here actually isn't the right one. Sorry." She backed up to go inside again, but Sam's hand shot out and slipped lightly around her wrist.
"Addresses don't change, hon. People move, businesses relocate, but addresses stay the same. So, I'll say it again; we're looking for someone. Care to help?" He gave her his 'Prince Charming' smile (his name, not mine. I kid you not. Prince Charming. And he wonders why I tell him he's a nerd.)
She blinked, then stepped back again. Sam held on, though, and her face took on a fearful look. I rolled my eyes; she honestly thought we'd hurt her? Only if she did something stupid.
"I-I'm sorry, I can't-" She was cut off as the door opened again, and a man stepped out. He wore the same teal scrubs as her, but the bulging muscles he had underneath strained the fabric. Add a brown buzz cut and a glare, and we have a classic ex-general jackass look. Sure enough, he fit the stereotype.
"Who's these guys, Jack?" He asked gruffly. "Why's 'e touchin' you?"
Sam let go of Jackie's wrist, and she ran towards , who wrapped a beefy arm around her.
"Did Frank send you?" she asked, and he responded by a twitch I assumed was meant to be a nod, only his bulging neck muscles (I shit you not, neck muscles) restricted his movement.
Sam stared coolly at Hercules. "We were merely asking the lady for some help. Would you rather take care of this matter, then?"
How, Sam? How do you stay so polite? I don't even know the guy and I'm ready to kill him. But maybe I just have issues. I don't know.
By the time I zoned back into the conversation, it was over. Josh grabbed my arm and pulled me along behind him as we entered the building. The door led into a small, shabby waiting room. Cardboard covered the receptionist area, and cobwebs were everywhere. I sneezed as our feet threw clouds of dust into the air.
Yanking my arm from Josh's grip and ignoring the glare he sent at me over his shoulder, I covered my mouth with my hand to try and block out most of the dust. We were heading towards a metal door that reminded me of a bank. Spartacus punched a code into a keypad I'm surprised his fat sausage-fingers could fit on, and the door opened.
We followed him inside a pure white hallway with more metal doors lining the left side, stopping around the first one. The door slammed shut behind us, locking with a small whirring noise.
I raised an eyebrow, but, true to my nature, said nothing. Meaty turned to Josh and I.
"I heard wha' pretty boy 'ere 'ad to say," -Cue me fighting a smile off- "And now I want to know from you two why ya touched ma' girl."
Josh opened his mouth, but a look at my face stopped him and he motioned me to say something. Giving up on keeping a straight face, I settled for a smirk, nearly laughing when he scowled at me. Suddenly, a switch inside me flipped.
"Well. Ghetto and Scottish in one. I must say, I haven't heard that before, that's new." I mused calmly, crossing my arms.
Muscle Man glared at me. "Look, ya' li'l punk-"
"Now, now," Interjected Sam, shooting me a look. "Let's not let this get out of hand."
"Wait, Sam. Let's see what the kid's got." Josh grinned.
I widened my smirk to a grin that was borderline sadistic.
"Well, good sir, your little puppy was playing dumb. I mean, I hope she was acting." I told him easily. He growled, and I gave a short laugh. "In all honestly, how did you manage to get muscles on your neck? Was it from holding up your ego? I'm sure that's no small feat, after all. And it simply can't have been your brain - assuming you actually have one, that is." I finished smoothly.
He let out a roar, and I ducked the punch he threw, noting with barley suppressed amusement the string of curses he let out as it slammed forcefully into the brick wall behind me. Adding insult to injury, I tutted. "Now, now," I grinned cheekily, copying Sam. "Violence never solves anything! Didn't your mother teach you that?"
I started outright laughing as he swung again, this time colliding with the metal door where my head had been a millisecond ago. Josh was cackling madly and doing a terrible job of hiding it, Sam was aghast, and yet the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth was hardly making him as intimidating as he wanted to appear. Jackie was letting out yelps every few seconds, irritating the absolute hell out of me.
I side-stepped a rather sloppily aimed left hook, still laughing when I noticed two sets of bleeding knuckles. He roared again in frustration, face red and sweat beginning to drip down. "You realize, of course, this isn't solving anything?" I taunted, almost wincing as I deflected a blow with my arm. I shook it, easing the pain and reverting back to simply grinning sadistically. Finally realizing he wouldn't score any hits, he simply stood and shook in rage, clenching and unclenching his fists.
Just then, someone else happens down the corridor. It's a skinny, dark-skinned guy with oversize glasses and more green scrubs.
"What's going on here? Who are you?" He asked, and Jackie and Johnny Bravo shied away.
"Leave us." He commanded, and they scuttled away. Then he turned to me, raising a steady finger. And the switch went off.
"You," He stated, and I flinched visibly. Josh and Sam closed in in front of me, and I hid behind Sam's taller height.
"You started some kind of stupid shit, kid. What do you want here? What's your business?" He asked, stepping forward.
"We're looking for someone," Sam told him, shifting completely in front of me. I fidgeted, impatient.
"And you think they're here?" He asked scathingly.
"Phoebe Stone." Josh stated flatly. The man blanched. Clearly, he recognized the name.
"Oh, good, you know her. She's the daughter of the magician Harry Stone, and of self-proclaimed witch Greta Stone. I'd appreciate it if you simply let us see here, and if we can convince her to come with us, we'll leave quietly and easily." Josh said, smirking. The man nodded, frowning and still pale.
"You can't say a word of her condition. She's absolutely gone. The girl's nuts, satanic and into self-harm and the like. We keep her restrained and locked up because she goes crazy any time someone is near her. She refuses food and drink most times, and she sees things. But if you still want to see her…" He says, trailing off and looking away as he edges towards the nearest door.
Sam nodded, not saying anything, and the man turned, drawing keys from his pocket and slipping one into the lock.