Incident 6 Wizards Gone Wild #2
The idea of spending only a little time with Glenn and then walking away afterward was like a knife to the heart.
It literally pained him, that possible future.
Ross had never met a man like Glenn. He was everything Ross both admired and aspired to be.
And every time Glenn turned to him, he saw that same light of attraction and respect reflected back at him.
Truly, that had been his undoing. To know Glenn saw him as someone just as desirable, just as amazing, was incredibly heady.
Ross felt too much for Glenn. He balanced on a knife’s edge, emotionally speaking. If Glenn pulled him in, he’d not want to let go ever again.
Rubbing both hands over his face, he let his hands support his head for a moment.
As scary as it was, thinking of taking that leap, it didn’t compare to the yawning pit of disappointment at the idea of never touching Glenn.
Of never having him. Shit, he really was going to try this, wasn’t he?
Because not taking that chance was somehow worse than any other possibility.
Dropping the hands, he looked around him in wry amusement. What a place for personal revelations, eh? Then again, he’d been so busy recently, this was probably the first moment his heart had managed to get a word in edgewise.
A knock at the door before Hairy barged through, lumbering a little with not only a water bottle but a Snickers bar in hand.
Ross hadn’t done more than take in the general impression of ‘big, hulking, stupid’ before, but now that Ross really looked, he seemed part-giant?
Maybe a little ogre? His face was very strongly boned, jaw jutting a bit out in an underbite, his build massive and rippling with muscles.
If he were part ogre, it would explain a lot.
They weren’t known to be intelligent. His nose had stopped bleeding, at least, although he hadn’t bothered to change his shirt and still wore the bloody drippings.
Ross had a plan, but it meant he had to really play this right.
If he could somehow manipulate the conversation to where Hairy said he was a friend, the wards would change their status on him and let him through.
As simple as it sounded, it would mean a fine touch to pull off.
So he stayed seated and kept a slightly puzzled expression on his face even as he accepted the goodies. “Thanks.”
Hairy looked pleased to be thanked—was that a rare occurrence?—and gave an awkward duck of the head.
“You’re really not a henchman?” Ross asked him doubtfully.
With a vigorous shake of the head, Hairy said, “I’m an employee.”
“Really? Do you have dental?”
That made him pause and look at Ross in confusion. “Dental? Uh…no?”
“401K? Health insurance?” Ross pressed, knowing very well he didn’t because the supernatural world didn’t really have those things. Not until he’d arrived on scene in Glenn’s clan had anyone thought about them, in fact. (Insurance forms for the entire clan had NOT been his idea of fun times.)
“Uh…no.”
“Then you’re not an employee, dude. Or if you are, he’s not giving you all the benefits of an employee.” Ross shook his head sadly. “Look, friend to friend, can I give you some advice?”
Hairy dipped his head in a tentative nod. “Yeah, sure.”
Ross hid his elation behind a bland face.
YES! He could almost feel the change in the wards with them now registering Ross as a friend.
It took every acting skill he had to not give the game away.
“You’ve got to stand up for yourself, okay?
When I first went to work for Glenn, he didn’t know about retirement funds and insurance and all that for employees either.
Times changed on him and he didn’t think to offer them.
But you know, I explained what I needed, and he agreed.
I set it all up, and now part of my paycheck goes toward that. You say Man-Shik is a good master?”
“The best,” Hairy said loyally, almost at a salute.
“Then he’ll surely help you set all this up. You just need to tell him, okay? But no one’s going to take you seriously when you say you’re an employee if you don’t even have health insurance.”
“I’ll go ask him.” Hairy’s face slid into a slight, bashful smile. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Ross watched him go out of the door with a shake of the head. Poor guy. Not too bright, was he? He hadn’t even locked the door behind him, trusting the ward to keep Ross inside the room.
Ross gave it a full minute before he went to the door, opening it slowly to avoid the door handle making any noise. It did so soundlessly and he leaned to put one eyeball around the frame, checking the hallway beyond. Empty.
Despite knowing he’d likely fooled the ward into accepting him, he found himself still holding his breath as he eased out of the doorway. But he passed through the ward without even a hiccup. Ha! Thank ever loving god wards were so literal-minded.
Now. What to do next? Frankly, staying in this straight hallway was giving him the willies. It was a kill box in here. Many, many hours of playing Call of Duty had taught him hallways were not friends. He moved at a quick walk, almost a half-jog, as he moved down it.
First, weapon. Because being bare-handed made goosebumps on his arms do the tango.
Second, see if he could get these damn cuffs off.
Third, either get out or find a way to contact outside for help.
As easy as that game plan sounded, he wasn’t sure how much of it he could pull off.
But he didn’t trust Man-Shik’s temper if he was re-captured, either.
Ross very much doubted this was Man-Shik’s actual lair. Sorcerer’s tower. Whatever. Ross was in the back right corner of the building (pretty sure on that) and steadily moving down. He’d been taken up two flights of stairs, so he had to get back down them, find a door, get out.
Stairs ahead. Excellent. He opened the door but paused, listening hard to make sure he heard no one else in the stairwell.
Good, that really was a trap if someone caught him there.
He tried not to make much noise as he clattered down the cement steps.
Sound echoed really badly in the narrow confines of the stairwell.
He reached the bottom without issue, although his heart started to pound.
This felt oddly similar to those times of hide-n-seek with his siblings as a kid.
Same kind of rush, the anticipation of being found, the second-guessing of where best to go.
Ross had never been that great at being sneaky. He’d been caught more often than not.
Today, he’d better play the best game of his life.
He didn’t just open the door at the bottom of the stairs and walk out, because if memory served, there was no real cover after he went through that door.
He opened it a crack and peered around the door.
No coverage whatsoever, the large bay completely empty from the rolling metal doors to the back offices lining the wall to his left.
Empty of even the van he’d come in. Dammit.
Ross had had high hopes for that van. He’d been half-banking on using it to escape.
Alright. Plan B. He needed cover to figure out a plan B. Even the half-wall was just metal railing and nothing more. The line of offices along the back of the hangar’s bay might offer a temporary safe haven, but who knew if they were occupied. Still, sitting here wasn’t an option either.
Weapon, phone. Weapon, phone. Ross wasn’t actually sure which he’d prefer. Phone, really. He eyed the hangar bay suspiciously, but saw no one, heard nothing. Where had henchman and Man-Shik even gotten off to?
Ross absolutely couldn’t sit out here in the open like this while he figured out what to do.
He didn’t want to blindly run outside and stumble across Man-Shik and his wand.
It just seemed like a poor life decision.
He had no defense against it. Calling for help seemed like a much better way to go.
Those offices might contain a phone and at this point, it seemed his best bet.
Alright, make or break. He’d run for that first office door. Ross gathered up his courage, sucked in a breath, and bolted. Fifteen steps felt like five hundred, and Ross was sure he’d be caught at any second, but he made it to the other door just fine.
To find it locked.
Soundly cursing his luck, he promptly ran for the next door. Also locked. Shit, seriously, if it wasn’t for bad luck, he’d have none at all.
Ross bolted for the next one, the last in the line, and finally, a door wasn’t locked.
He slammed through it, shutting it immediately behind him, and turned to put his back to it.
Nothing in here but filing cabinets, it looked like.
Junk, boxes of crap, a desk to one side.
Ross frantically started going through things, the handcuffs hampering him.
No sign of a phone, although he saw a phone jack in the wall, so theoretically this place had landline services.
Assuming he could find a fucking phone to plug in.
He started going through drawers, growing more and more frantic when only paper and junk met his eyes.
Come on, something, anything—wait, there.
That was an old office phone. Completely antiquated by today’s standards, but if it worked—oh please let it work.
He yanked it free of the drawer, along with one of the cords, and plugged it in.
Like most modern children, Ross could remember maybe a handful of phone numbers, including his own and his parents’ house.
But fortunately for all, he had Glenn’s memorized because he’d had to write it over and over for all the forms he filled out on the man’s behalf.
It was one of the few he knew. He held the receiver to his ear and could have wept when a dial tone sounded.
Holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder, he used a finger to punch in the number.
Then it rang.
And rang.