Rich Appreciation 2020 Day 2
Pairings: Eventual Roger x Reader (maybe)
A/N: This works because I say it does
How fast can a person dial 911?Â
The question idly bounced around Y/Nâs mind as she blinked dumbly at the woman on the other side of her counter.Â
âWhere is he?â the woman asked, her voice still rumbling too deep to be normal.
âI-I donât know who youâre talking about.â Y/N jumped suddenly when the woman slammed her fists on the steel countertop, the glint of a small knife in her fist catching Y/Nâs eye.Â
âThe hunter!â she screamed. âWhere is he!? Or would you rather take his place?âÂ
The thought of 911 ran through Y/Nâs mind again, albeit a little more frantically than before. Too bad she realized her phone wasnât in her pocket right now. Ok, maybe she could try and talk this person down. Obviously they werenât in their right mind, but damn it was all she could do right now.Â
Y/N opened her mouth, body shaking and not even knowing what she was going to say, but was cut off by the sound of the bathroom door opening up down the side hall. She heard footsteps, light and easy; he had no idea what he was walking into! The womanâs devilish smile perked up again, nostrils flaring as she scented the air again.Â
Roger rounded the corner, completely oblivious to the danger out in the front area. He stopped in his tracks, paper towel frozen in his hands. Amber eyes bounced between the two women in the lobby.
The woman raised her knife, let out an inhumanly loud screech, and was on Roger in a flash.Â
He almost wasnât ready for her. Rogerâs leather satchel was whipped around just in time, and a well aimed swipe knocked the woman off balance. Y/N heard the knife skitter across the linoleum floor as she ran to grab her phone.Â
Even though she was disarmed, that didnât mean this nasty woman was powerless. She punched, clawed, grabbed as Roger fought back as best he could. A well timed punch sent Roger flailing back onto a table, and Y/N had barely hit the little green call button to call 911 on her phone when she saw Roger come back withâŚwas that a salt shaker? Did he just throw salt at someone throwing punches?? The weirdest thing was that it looked like it really did some damage.Â
 The woman reeled back, screaming in pain as she tried to wipe the tiny salt crystals from her face.Â
â911, where is your emergency?â The tinny voice of the 911 operator filtered through the speaker.
Y/N eyes whipped over to Roger again. âWhat?!â
âI need something silver!â he yelled, finally getting a little bit of an upper hand and grasping the still struggling woman in a headlock.
Abandoning the phone, Y/N frantically scanned through her equipment behind the counter. Chrome, steel, more chrome. Ugh!Â
âCanât you just knock her out?!!â Y/N yelled.
Roger growled as the woman flailed even harder. âUh, sheâs a little worked up for that right now.âÂ
Y/N ran a frustrated hand through her hair; nothing looked like it would work.
Finally, up on the walls, Y/N saw something that would work. An antique silverware set that her mother had gifted when she opened her doors to her business. Been in the family for generations, she had said. Now all she could do was hope that her ancestors werenât cheap-oâs or liars.Â
Y/N climbed up on the rickety stool, her fingers just barely reaching along the edge of the shadow box. This had better be worth it. Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N saw the two of them still struggling. The woman broke Rogerâs hold on her, turned quick, and landed a kick right between his legs.Â
Roger let out a sharp moan of pain, and Y/N flinched in sympathy, hissing through her teeth. The woman gave him no time to recover, though, as she pulled her arm back and punched him square in the jaw. Roger fell to the floor, and the woman turned her anger to Y/N, still standing on the stool, shadow box in hand.Â
Before the woman could take a step towards her, Y/N smashed the box to the ground, Rogerâs pained groans still filling the air. Well, at least he hadnât passed out.Â
Heart beating furiously, Y/N, as carefully as she could, sifted through the shattered glass to grab the biggest knife in the silverware set. Shit, it was a three inch butter knife. Not even sharp. But Y/N held it in her shaking fists like it was her only hope.Â
âS-Stay back!â The tremor in her voice was prominent, but she tried to hold the small knife with some sort of conviction.
âMaybe youâd like to be one of us, eh girl?â The woman leapt onto the counter with no effort at all, sending Y/N jumping back. She cackled at Y/Nâs obvious fear, stalking forward to crowd against her, Y/Nâs knife pressing onto her chest. âYou,â she crooned, âwould love it.â
Y/N and the woman both turned back to Roger, standing on his shaking legs and supporting himself on a table.Â
âPut the silver in her mouth!âÂ
Y/N and the woman turned back to each other, Y/Nâs wide eyes meeting the narrowed angry ones of her attacker. She took in a sharp breath, and lunged forward, pressing the knife to the womanâs lips. There was a sizzling sound, and the woman opened her mouth to scream in pain. When her lips parted, Y/N jammed the knife in further, a white light burning up from her throat.Â
She screeched even louder, her body tensing up before she crumbled at Y/Nâs feet.Â
There were a few moments where Y/N could only hear the rain falling, a gentle static that kept her from screaming herself. Her breaths came out in ragged pants, and she idly thought this day couldnât get any worse.
Y/N turned her head, slowly looking over to Roger, still recovering from the swift kick to his manhood.
âYou just exercised your first demon.â
âFor lack of a better word.â
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