In the old, dilapidated room, a simple wooden cradle held a precious cargo, a little bundle of joy and absolute cuteness. When I bent over the cradle, I saw that the baby wasn't crying. His attention was far too diverted by a simple wooden toy in his left hand.
And when he discovered my presence with those tiny blue sapphires of his. He smiled and broke into a laugh. I made a crook with my index finger and rubbed under his chin. The sweet little boy smiled wider and made that cute mewling sound that babies make when tickled. He shook the toy in his hand while his right hand reached up to grab my long chestnut hair that fell near his face.
He tried once, twice, thrice. His face puckered into a frown from the repeated failures. Kids don't have the best coordination. And when finally he managed to grab my hair, he cackled and gave me a 100-watt smile with an exclamation of joy. I smiled and gently retrieved my hair from his grip. He smiled wider. Perhaps he thought it was a game. A chuckle escaped my lips as I straightened up. He made another adorable baby noise with his hand, trying to reach up, as if he was asking to grab my hair again, so I took out my Glock and blew his head off, spreading baby guts and pinkish brain matter everywhere.
And just like that, Hitler was dead.
-----
And that's how I found myself sitting in this cold, dark cell with a single white fluorescent light, wearing magic-enhanced handcuffs. It had been a while now. And I was getting bored making imaginary doodles with my fingers.
The door opened, and a 60-year-old man with a Dumbledore-like vibe walked in. Along he brought a thin old hag who had a frown on her sharp face. "You cannot do this, Albert!" she screeched.
"Yes, I can!" he replied politely.
"The council will not stand for this!"
"The council does not stand for anything I do anyway."
"She tried to kill Hitler!"
"Didn't we all?"
"Not by breaking time we did not!"
"She didn't know that. Besides, Miranda. I am doing this whether you like it or not. If you want, get a council order to stop me. Before then, shut up." The polite man was finally annoyed.
"But.." the hag tried to speak, but Albert interrupted her. "Get out of her, Miranda, before I kick you out myself. You know I will. I am a man of my word." for the first time giving a slightly serious expression.
The woman finally stopped. Glared at us both and then stormed out with a huff.
Albert took a deep breath to compose himself before speaking. "So first things first, let us change the venue to a more appropriate location, shall we?" he snapped his fingers, and the handcuffs opened and fell to the floor. "I am Albert Goldencross."
-----
Slow jazz played in the background while golden lights twinklied around. A lavish table with snow white plates and foods whose name I couldn't pronounce was kept in front of me. I was fidgeting while the man, Albert, calmly waited for a servant to finish serving. The longer the silence stretched the more nervous I became. It was funny how I was perfectly at ease in the cold dark cell. While this. This scared the bejeesus out of me.
This man was capital capital R, rich. And more importantly, he was powerful. More powerful than the President of the US of A himself. The place he brought me to eat told me that much.
We were sitting on the rooftop table in The Shine. Yes, That f…king SHINE. The most exclusive and expensive hotel in Las Vegas. I only knew its name because Alpha Maddox had once been invited here for the High Challenge and the whole werewolf world including our pack was abuzz. The news made it to me was a testament to the sheer scale of that thing. Every werewolf Alpha that mattered a damn in the whole wide world had attended that thing.
The fight hadn't been here ofcourse. But Alpha challenges that high up in the ladder are political shitshows. So the High Alpha of the North American Continent had decided to hold a banquet before the fight. What a day that had been.
And it was held here.
And this guy had just walked in without saying anything into its top floor like he owned the place. And nobody dared to stop him. The couple who had been celebrating their 10 year anniversary simply nodded to him and left it for us.
"Mr. Goldencross. It's an honour to make your acquaintance. I am Charlie Reese. I see that you have taken a liking to the view. How about I offer you my reservation?"
All he did was, say a polite "Thank You Charlie, I will remember you."
The Happy 10 years decorations were all gone by the time we sat down.
He warmly smiled at me, "Are you sure you don't want to choose something yourself?"
I squeaked like a startled mouse ready to bolt. "y..yy..yes" I didn't dare to touch the menu. The card itself looked more expensive than my entire existence. Every moment I felt like someone was going to jump out and drag me away after apologising to him. My cheap thrift store hand me downs felt like warm poo on these silken seats.
"Well, alright. The Foie Gras de Canard I ordered for you here is excellent. One of the finest I've ever had. I'm sure you'll enjoy it."
I couldn't bring myself to speak anything more while the man surfed on his phone. We waited until the food arrived. Albert turned off his phone to dig in. Half way through his secod bite he paused. "Why aren't you eating Agatha? Is something not to your liking?"
I squeaked again.
------
When it became apparent that he won't continue until I either spoke something or began eating, I tried gathering my courage. I failed. "No" I whispered, and picked up the fork. But my stomach was too much in knots to eat. Death didn't scare me anymore. But men like him could give you way more than what you bargained for with a snap of their fingers.
When his gaze left me, I released the breath I didn't know I had been holding. Slowly I tried gathering courage again. This time I succeeded. "S-Sir, Why have you brought me here."
He raised his eyes and I immediately lowered mine. He paused. Then put down the cutlery he was using. "I was hoping to save this conversation for when you had gotten some food in you. You must've been hungry after that little escapade of yours. But I see now that you won't be at ease until I tell you." He gave a dramatic pause, leaning forward. His voice lowered into a sweeter kinder timbre, as he spoke as reassuringly as he could, "You don't have to worry. I will not hurt you." I continued staring as he put his hand over my trembling one to stop it from shaking.
"How could I? After all, I am your granduncle." Huh? Brain.exe has stopped working.
"Oh, and Agatha, please call me Albert, or uncle, or maybe grandpa. Whichever suits you. Sir sounds so 19th century." he leaned back nonchalantly.