“Idiot!”

Jennifer Gibson cursed herself. She should have run to a well lit public place with lots of people around, but she followed the lessons drilled into her by her paranoid, batshit crazy, survivalist father and went for cover. Now she was trapped at the end of a blind alley staring up at the tallest brick wall in the world.

Her father may have been insane, but he was insane on principle. The psychopath advancing on her armed with a crowbar was insanity in its rawest form. She determined not to be like the girls in horror movies who spent their last moments sobbing, screaming and begging. Jennifer stood firm and met her killers gaze as he approached. She wanted to sob and scream, but she did not.

The Hammer Horror Gambit, Version One

Daisy hunched her shoulders and looked steadily ahead, doing her best to ignore the louts catcalling as she passed by.

She already regretted not taking a more menacing form before starting for home. Maybe a large, not particularly attractive but muscular man. It was late on a Friday night, and the unfortunate combination of alcohol and testosterone was having its expected result.

She checked her six in the side mirror of a parked car and cursed silently. The trio of thugs had peeled themselves away from the wall they'd been holding up. They followed her down the street, making kissing noises and obscene gestures, uttering increasingly rude invitations.

 “I swear I saw him.”

April Gardener rolled her eyes. She had several good reasons to keep Mike Bishop around, but brains and nerve were not among them. “You didn't see anything, idiot.”

“He was standing in the corner. I saw him.” Mike was carrying the lion's share of the take. He was a big boy and that helped him earn his keep.

“And I didn't.” April wished she had parked closer. She was afraid a car parked behind the pawn shop would attract attention, but they were in and out so quick that it would not have mattered.

“They say he walks through shadows. He's there one minute and gone the next. That's how he works.”

 “There we go,” Magnus Ford said. “Back home safe and sound.”

Magnus was leading wild-eyed Scott Lane into the dorm room they shared.

“Let's not go back to that club, okay? It's a bit too exciting for my taste. Edgy is not always a good thing... apparently.”

Scott just stared.

“Are you thirsty? I bet you're thirsty. All that smoke in the air. Disgusting habit. You look thirsty. Here.” Magnus grabbed a sports drink from their dorm fridge and tossed it to Scott who made no effort to catch it. The bottle bounced off his chest, hit the floor and leaked a citrus colored trail as it rolled across their thrift store rug.

Scott just stared.

August, 1981, Tampa

“There’s going to be a time..”
The meaty sound of a fist striking flesh.
“…when you’ll thank me for this..”
And again.
“…and on that day…”
Thud-Thud. Two strikes in quick succession, and the rattle of chains.
“…you’re gonna look back on this one…”
The sound of ragged gasps, broken things, almost pants really - like a terrified animal that’s been beaten so often a kick is a hug.

 “Is he still here?”

Vinny Rio nodded as he held the car door for Salvatore “the Salamander” Zaffarano. Salvatore eyed his lieutenant as he exited the car.

“What the hell's wrong with you?”

“I'm fine,” Vinny said as he approached the large, block building, entered a code and opened the heavy steel door for his boss.

“You're not fine. You're a pussy. Is this still because the guy makes him self up like a clown? Jesus Christ, you're a grown man.”

Vinny flipped a switch and fluorescent lights blinked on down the length of the long utilitarian corridor. “It ain't make-up.”

“What ain't make-up?”

Brian rounded the corner at Smith and 9th just as the train went by overhead. He almost didn’t notice, so used to the sound was he. Head down, hands in pockets, he didn’t cut much of a figure. Or wouldn’t have, if he wasn’t so short. And wide. He looked like a block of wool trudging down the street. Most of the people around here knew him, but every so often he’d get the looks, the smiles, the laughs. It kept his scowl firmly in place.

He came up to a small group of people hovering around a car. He paused long enough to see what they were looking at. A flat tire on Mrs. Sullivan’s little Honda. Her two teenaged sons were arguing about something while another older man, Mr. Hills the grocer, stood rubbing his head.

“Stop.”

“What?” Ray’s voice was incredulous, hand raised high to strike another blow. “What did you just say to me?”

Felicia sobbed, a broken noise from a broken girl. The flesh around her right eye was already swelling, and would be a royal shiner in an hour or so.

“Did I stutter?” I asked, reasonably.

I stood in the open doorway to the dressing room and met Ray’s stare, arms folded across my chest. A thin man in a gray suit. Nobody.

“No.” Ray replied, straightening and turning to face me. Behind him, Brandy and Alotta sat frozen, mouths hanging open as they watched the crazy person in the door signing a ticket to a world-class beating. “No man, you didn’t stutter. But now I’m gonna have to hurt you.”

 “Don't you care for brandy?” Mister Seven asked.

Magnus told himself it was just a dream, and he was sure it was, but somehow that gave him no comfort.

“Seriously?” Magnus said.

Magnus was in a Victorian study decorated with rich colors, dark wood and charming light fixtures that could not seem to pierce the gloom. Mister Seven sat across from him in a red upholstered chair, and a smoking jacket. The antique man-cave was inviting and cozy until you looked close and noticed that every object and every surface was composed of living insects. Occasionally a spider or scorpion would break character and scurry from one place to another, but otherwise the illusion was tight.

Daisy huddled around the drink before her, secure in the form of an overweight man in an ill-fitting suit, red-faced, with a patina of sweat showing through his comb-over. It wasn't a comfortable shape by any means. All that extra mass made moving so difficult: not just the extra weight, but the bulging flesh that got in your way when you tried to bend or twist. She couldn't understand how anyone could let himself get that way.

Which wasn't fair, of course. Most people didn't her complete mastery of her form. She understood that, but even so....