The Game Part III

I peep inside and just have time to step back when the bullets come crashing into the wall behind me, sending plaster flying in a cloud of white dust. They know what’s up obviously. From the initial shouts in the room  I gather they must be two guys. They are moving slowly towards my position in the corridor. They probably do not know how I got rid of the guards at the entrance, but have decided to treat me as armed and dangerous. They’re right of course. On both accounts.

 The Breem is just about getting the proper hue when I dump it on the ground through the open door, like a hand grenade. From the scramble inside, I guess they fear grenades. Then, two heavy objects fall on the floor accompanied by a rustle of falling clothes and the room goes quiet. I sneak in, attentive to the noises coming now from the corridor at the other side of the room. Behind the desk I find a heap of clothes. Another one behind the sofa. But ducking there did not help the goodfellas.

I grab the pants of the first one. A light thing glides down a leg and drops on the floor, next to a gun that now dwarves him like a black metallic truck. I grab the gun , and quickly steps on the little guy with the tip of my shoe. Before he disappears under, I had the vision of my toenail catching up with him, and blotting him out. OK, the other one now. As I turn round, I see a little shape rushing towards the sofa. I drop to my knees, just as it enters the underside. I have to put my head to the floor to catch the sight of the naked man running terrified towards the hazardous safety of the shadows.

To him, I must be like a huge Godzilla monster peering at him, extending a massive claw. I grab him gently between two fingers. I have a quick look at his tiny face, before I drop him into my cleavage. That should keep him warm and that’s more than he deserves.
Gun in one hand, Breem in the other, I walk carefully towards the next corridor . Running steps echo above me. The house is filled with shouts.

……………………

When I reach Lawrence’office, my pockets full of diminutive gangsters, I call him. I hear the surprise in his voice, mixed with some relief. “Nadine, is that you?” and then the suspicion: “Who are you with?” “Hold your fire” he whispers to some hunchback near him. “Come in. Very slowly.”
I push the door opened, my heart beating hard in my chest. If they decide to shoot anyway, I’m a goner. In my hand the Breem is getting warm.

Lawrence is crouching behind a heavy wooden desk. I guess more than I see a man standing behind the door, along the wall. When he sees me, a perplex look crawls over Lawrence’s face. He starts standing up, revealing the gun in his hand. “What the f…” he begins. The Breem’s flash pervades the entire room. The guns fall heavily on the floor, one in front, the one behind me, and also it seems a third one behind the large leather chair on the left.

I collect the man next to the wall. His tiny body wriggles pleasantly against my half-closed palm. I let him join the others in my breast pocket, which is bulging a bit now. The man behind the chair is already out of his clothes. The Breem did not finish the job too well. The little guy is about three inches, twice taller than the others. His face is turned toward mine, as I stand over him. (This makes me wonder if my underwear is clean enough), I grab him , spot a cigar box on the table, empty it and drop the man inside.

“Well hello, Lawrence! I hope you ‘ll pardon the intrusion, but I really needed to see you. I have an invitation for you to a party.” I doubt the little shape running now between my shoes is paying attention. I let my foot hover his little body. When he emerges from under my sole, I position my foot over him again, till he re-emerges, in a frantic run. I play this little game for a minute, till I eventually lower myself and catch him in my fingers (he squeaks a lot, seeing this mountain folding down toward him).
On the way out, I grab the cigar box.

“Freeze!!” The man who jumped in front of me is heavy, dressed in black, the hand that holds the gun is glistening with gold rings. As I stop walking, I notice the twichiness in his eyes and the drop of sweat running down his cheek. He is going to shoot, I just know it. As the bullet emerges from the barrel, it meets the green wave of the flash . I feel the sting on my face , as the minuscule projectile hits my left cheek, my ears ringing with the detonation. That was a close one, a task the Breem had taken on itself, selecting timing and target for me. I let out a sigh of relief/ fright and walks shakily to the clothes, on the floor.

I take the time to light a nervous cigarette as I watch the tiny bump progressing towards the end of the sleeve. The bastard was shooting me in the face. I watch the homunculus start his hopeless run under my shadow. The house is silent now, and I finish quietly my cigarette. Each time the man manages to avoid the falling ashes I casually drop on him. Good for him. The cigarette butt lands just in front of him, on the carpeted floor. When my foot comes over to crush it, he still manages to run ahead of it, my sole squashing the humongous ciguie and crushing the floor around it. I catch him and bring him to my eyes. He’s smaller than the rings he was wearing a moment ago.

He’s shouting something to me, but I do not listen. Craning my head back, I dangle him above my wide open mouth for a few seconds. He lands on my mouth with a wet plop. I swiftly direct him toward my throat and crane the head back again, letting things happen. The squeaking intensifies, as I feel him slowly sliding down beyond my tongue. I swallow, and the little lump disappears within my throat. One less Soprano in the world. Good thing too.

tbc

nostromo