The Harsh Light Of Day || Solo
Ish never woke up in peace and quiet. He never woke up with either any more, to be honest. This morning (if you could call it such) was no different. He stretched long, aching limbs with a groan, his arm falling against the warm fur of Anubis as it flopped over the edge of the bed. He shot awake, the feeling of unfamiliar warmth against his skin filling him with dread, flashes of blood and blades seeping into his consciousness, leftover from his dreams.
"Fuckin' hell," he grumbled with a low sigh as the world came into focus around him. There was no blood, no fresh remains in his bed, not even any telling cuts or bruises on his hands, so why was he filled with such a hefty guilt in his conscience? Ish's waking was greeted with a series of licks, which only prompted more groans. "Alright, gerroff, you daft sod," he yawned, no malice in the words as he pulled back the covers and dragged himself from the sheets. Another restless night. His body and bed were still soaked in sweat.
The dog padded to the door, doing his morning pacing and circling, the indicator that he needed to go outside. "Just hang on a bloody minute, would ya? There's a good lad," he reassured the creature as he grabbed clothes and shoes. He grabbed the cheap pocket watch on his bedside table, checking the time and looking at his companion with an almost guilty expression as he reached for the laudanum tincture beneath his bed, swallowing all that remained in the bottle as if it were a glass of water on a warm day. Only a couple of bottles were left in the box. He'd need more soon. "Yeah, I'm coming, 'Nubis," he answered with a sigh at the dogs whine, finally getting up to head outside.
The East End was a bustle of activity as usual. At first, he didn't notice anything amiss, but the atmosphere felt somehow darker and colder today as people gossiped in hushed tones. People who didn't know him gave a wide berth to the large, exhausted-looking man smoking a cigarette while his dog took a piss in the back alley of the pub. He did cut an intimidating figure.
"Right, come on then," he called to the dog after a few moments, and he smoked his cigarette as he walked, the beast trotting at his heel as he made his way to the local Apothecary. His stomach was in his throat as he approached. 'You're not doing anything wrong', he told himself, and yet with each day that passed, it became harder and harder to believe. His visits had become so frequent that it was almost embarrassing, and he knew they'd been noticed.
"Y'alright, Ishie, mate?" the person behind the counter greeted as he walked in, and Ish did his best to perk up, be natural and easygoing.
"Yeah, 'bout the same as always, Bill." he said, which wasn't a lie. "You?"
"Not bad, not bad. Business is good, at least. This stuff in the papers is enough to make anyone turn ill."
Brow sweating, Ish nodded. Had something else happened? "Something in particular you're on about?" he asked, which prompted a look of surprise from the apothecary. After all, to most of London who arose earlier than noon, this had been news since the early hours of the morning.
"Ain't you seen? Hold on..."
He scuttled away to grab the newspaper. Ish's fingertips were digging into his palms as Bill laid out the headline in front of him. Ish's eyes widened, color draining from his already pale cheeks as he struggled to take in the words, details of yet another act of horrific violence. And where had he been last night when it happened? He couldn't even remember.
"Shit, that's..." He struggled to find the words, not being a particularly educated man, he wasn't very descriptive in his language. "Fucking hell. Where does the sick bastard come up with these ideas? To do this shite to people..." And there was truth in his words. They were sincere, but there was something else in them too; a lack of conviction that came with his own uncertainty, his own paranoia. "Sorry, Billy, I've got some work to do back at the pub, if you could just..."
"The usual?" Bill answered, seemingly knowing what Ish was looking for without Ish needing to say the words. He was already reaching for the item from his shelves.
"Yeah, just..." He reached into his pocket, pulling out the majority of what remained from his last 'job'. "Just give me a crate. Save me coming back every week." He could sense the trepidation on Bill's expression, but the wad of cash seemed to override that particular instinct.
"If you're sure. This stuff can be dangerous if you're not careful."
Ish shook his head, a scoff that melded with a chuckle leaving his lips, hopefully one that came across as amused and not indignant, but he couldn't rightly tell. "Trust me, mate, not as dangerous as the way my muscles and bones still ache after hauling rich pricks’ cargo at the docks for the past fifteen years."
"Yeah, well, you're not alone there."
Maybe not, Ish thought, but God, it felt like it. The transaction completed, he left the shop with his purchase, fighting the self conscious feeling he got as he made his way back to the pub. Could've been anything in this box, he thought. Bottles of ale for the patrons, new glassware, dog food, and yet still it felt as if everyone around him knew something deep and shameful about him.
Ish slowed his pace as he approached the back entrance of the pub. Anubis let out a low grumble at his heel at the hooded figure, but Ish recognised their frame and gait. "Shh," he instructed, setting his purchase down carefully near the back door as he reached for his key.
"You know we open at five, yeah?"
The hooded figure grinned, teeth like jagged yellow tombstones in a stubbled jaw. "I know. That's why I'm here at twelve." He reached to pet the dog, but kept his eyes on Ish. He used his other hand to slip a note into Ish's breast pocket. "Details of our next assignment. Don't be late." He nodded towards the box, as if he knew what it contained. "Do you need help carrying that inside?"
Ish shook his head, not even reading the note before answering; "I'll be there." Anubis snaked through the gap in the door as soon as it opened, and Ish bent down to lift the box back into his arms. "Thanks, but I'm fine."
He said the words with confidence, but they both knew that was debatable.