Altzaui Drabbles

“So, Mister Scales. Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy,” Kyre quipped. She put her hands on his desk, leaning forward. Her gaze fought for dominance as their eyes met.

“I’m curious, what makes you so special?” She teased, giving cocky smile. He gave a dead look back to her. “And hello to you too,” Atlus said, unamused. “What’s your name again? Kismas? Kylie?”

She scowled at him, half playful, half pissed. “Kyre,” she bit back.

“Right, Kyre. You’re some sort of pirate, yes? Do you need something?” He said, aloof.

“You heard what I said earlier, so answer me. You’re some sort of special villain, right? So c’mon, chat with me.” She brought over a chair from the edges of the room, foot catching and dragging it. She sat on it backwards, leaning on her crossed arms casually.

“You do realize who you’re talking to, correct? I’m not some sort of show pony,” he murmured, looking down at her from his height. Somehow Kyre heard the door lock behind her, and she was struck with a shudder. She sat up.

“U-uh, right. I just thought someone like you would be interesting to talk to,” she said, cowering into her words. Really, she came here to try and intimidate him, maybe challenge him to some sort of duel, but she felt a sinking in her stomach, that this wasn’t the best idea.

“I’m ‘special’,” he said, giving an unamused air quote, “because I don’t let things get in my way. And I mean it.”

“How so? You can’t do everything,” she questioned, squinting at him.

“Let’s say you work hard every day of your life to find some sort of long lost treasure, but it turns out, some beach bum managed to find it before you. Now he’s richer than you’d ever be until the day you die,” he explained, shaping a story in her mind.

She nodded slowly, not quite getting it yet.

Atlus took a moment to pull out a drawer she could not see, and he carefully drew a knife. This knife was made of a polished, beautiful steel, it’s carvings cold and ornate. However, upon it were dried splashes of blood, the scent faintly taking up the room. She watched as he looked at his reflection in it for a moment.

“Who has to say he gets to keep it? You can kill him, but then the law gets in your way. But then you can kill that too, can’t you? Kill the heroes, kill your kings, kill the lawmakers, just stain yourself,” He grinned this horrific smile, motioning the blade across his neck to accent his words.

“If you don’t get what you want through what society says is ok, get it anyways,” he said, leaning over the table to her, their faces only a few inches apart. The emptiness in his eyes bothered her, and she pulled away.

“Don’t forget. Real villains go for gold,” he said, handing her the stained knife. She saw her reflection in the dim light, and she saw the fear etched on her face. Never before had she felt chills like this. She had never met someone so cold and calculated. Sure, some people kill like he does because they don’t care, but he had his sins all planned out.

To this day, she kept the knife. She doesn’t know why, but she wishes she had the guts to throw it out.