Big O Fan Fiction ❯ The Jazz Sessions ❯ The Kiss of Midnight ( Chapter 1 )

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The Big O - The Jazz Sessions - The Kiss of Midnight
by Crystal Acids

Norman stood at the door impatiently. While the cover was always the same cool, calm demeanor of Paradigm's best butler, Norman was a wreck inside. His toes began to fidget in those polished black shoes. The hairs of his mustache would twitch individually without a single twinge of a muscle. "And where is that annoyingly consistent rapping of fingers coming from?" he thought to himself.

Across the hall and partly hidden by a potted plant stood a living statue. Skin cold as ice with a matching stare. The expression of non-conformity shone through the hazy looking eyes. It was not focused on any certain subject in the room and yet stared just the same. It was unnerving, to put it mildly. A breeze of arrogance calmly flowed through the valleys and crevasses of darkness known as folds in a uniform. And the true source of the angry noise were four delicate fingers rapping on some wooden paneling which showed signs of severe wear.

"Ms. Dorothy," Norman began, "while I'm sure Master Roger would not forget I do not believe it is completely right to show disrespect to the building."

Dorothy paused for a moment to digest what she heard. But, only for a moment. With a simple turn she disappeared around the corner the abused subject was attached to. Norman debated whether to inspect the damage when he heard the elevator gears begin to whine.

A man in black sighed as he punched the plastic button with a dulled number. Negotiator may be a decent line of work in the pay category but it's a nightmare if you want a good schedule. It was well past midnight and the building was clearly asleep given that no internal lights seemed to be on. Roger let out another sigh. Depression, the first sign of being a negotiator.

Cold eyes roamed through the darkness. They swiftly glided through the complex maze of chairs and stacked books to their true destination.

The doors creaked open. Norman's eyes opened quickly as he tried to gain some composure. Unleashed from the newly created hole in the wall stood a well-dressed man.

"Master Roger, I regret to inform you that..," Norman began to explain but was halted by a raised hand.

Slowly the hands danced across the table turning over hourglasses. Within seconds you could hear a low rumble of sand safely passing through a small hole to lower sanctuary. The moonlight softly glowed through the curtains to highlight the quick passage of motion. A hypnotic dance of fingers organized paperwork before disappearing back to an unknown home.

His body hurt. The bed felt like a rock even when he was sinking two inches deep to the cushion. Heaven was punishing him. Roger tried to scoot higher on the mattress to unleash the covers from their perfectly positioned resting spot without success. Gravity was a cruel mistress taunting him. Roger's arm tried in vain to grasp just a pillow.

The door to the bedroom opened and closed. A cool breeze could be felt. The darkness was sliced with ease as the approaching body of emotions drew to the bed. A victim was waiting.

Roger opened his eyes lightly. With a slight rustle, he was quickly aware that he was in bed and under the covers. Heaven is a warm bed after a long day. And heaven was enveloping Roger back into dreamland. Yet, there was a puzzling question of how.

"I must be more tired than I thought," he muttered as dreamland once again took him hostage.

The room smiled.

Roger awoke once again. He could have sworn he detected a warm breeze go past his cheek. He raised his hand to brush the feeling away when he detected a warm impression upon that exposed cheek. His lightly puzzled expression drained away as he closed his eyes once again.

The breeze smiled as it drifted back out of the room.