A pleasant silver bell jingled over the entrance of Haunt’s Heavenly House. Jayson’s blue suit lost its luster, his eyes were heavy and dilated, and his pupils were dull. His hair was ragged, the stench of sweat clung to his suit, and his suitcase was scuffed.

  Jayson’s scratched dress shoes scraped against the tile as he traveled further into the near empty establishment, the scent of vanilla, cinnamon, and other pleasant spices lingering.

  The display cases were barely half-filled with goth-inspired pastries that had been sitting since the morning, their edges curling slightly from the dry air. The lights were a mix of bright, dim, and flickering, and out of the eight tables, only one was occupied by Dacre, Shae, and Cyrus, all wearing tracksuits, sunglasses, and running shoes. The three goons were eating cinnamon rolls and had juice boxes. They sat in an area that gave them the perfect view of Haunt’s Heavenly House. And when they saw Jayson, only Shae smiled and waved.

  “Hey buddy, how’s it going?” said Shae.

  Cyrus slapped Shae on the back of the head. “Don’t do that. We’re mobsters, remember?”

  “Yeah, we gotta act tough. Show him that we mean business or else the other syndicates will think we’re gay. And that’s gay! So, act tough!” says Dacre.

  “Alright, alright! I got it, jeez,” said Shae. He cleared his throat and then glared at Jayson. “What are you looking at, ass faggot?”

  Dacre and Cyrus clapped politely, nodding in approval, earning them smiles from Shae.

  “Very good. That’s how you do it,” said Cyrus and Dacre over each other.

  “So, Jayson, do you want more Reel Sight?” asked Shae.

  “We don’t have any on us, dumbass,” said Dacre.

  “Oh right.” Shae hardened his gaze on Jayson. “Get bent, loser!”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, tone it down, man,” said Cyrus.

  “What?” said Shae, his voice jumping in pitch.

  “That was kind of mean,” said Dacre.

  “Give me a break. That wasn’t mean,” said Shae.

  Jayson rolled his eyes and went behind the counter, to the kitchen, where Lexanne Haunt and Rolland were. He heard their voices clashing, and stopped in the doorway to the kitchen, watching Lexanne Haunt work on dough while Rolland leaned against the counter, carelessly stirring his finger in some jam.

  “Just think about it, Lexanne,” said Rolland, his voice smooth and practiced. “Your location is perfect. Right between the business district and the residential area. All that foot traffic could be converted to customers with the right adjustments that money could buy.”

  “I’m doing fine, Rolland. I don’t want your blood money,” said Lexanne Haunt, her voice tight.

  Lexanne Haunt was wearing white apron over her black and white gothic dress. Her dark hair, white fur, and black makeup were dusted in flour. Meanwhile, Rolland was dressed like his friends in the lobby, and his hair was slicked back in three inches of glossy gel. He was standing underneath the bright kitchen light, his manicured tightly pressed on the cutting board counter, next to a loaf of raisin bread.

  “Fine?” scoffed Rolland. “Lexanne, sweetie, we both know that ain’t true. Your husband’s been failing miserably in his real estate career ever since he got turned down from that promotion, and this place is going to shit.”

  “My business is my business. I would rather see it fail than become corrupted to help Mama Bear,” said Lexanne Haunt firmly as she kneads her dough.

  “Who said anything about Mama Bear?” said Rolland.

  “Everyone knows you work for her.”

  Lexanne Haunt slammed the dough down, flour puffing up around her paws, and Rolland chuckled.

  “Allegedly. There ain’t any proof of my employment with her. Besides, if I did work for her, the Bliss Syndicate would have my neck in a noose,” said Rolland.

  Lexanne Haunt paused her kneading to glare at Rolland. “The Bliss Syndicate is a joke. And you literally celebrated outside my bakery, flashing wads of money and shouting, ‘Look who got paid by Mama Bear!’ Then you and your friends went to Scott’s Sports Store and bought those track suits and running shoes.”

  “Oh, that? That was one time,” said Rolland.

  “That was three times.”

  “Well, when you frame it that way…” Rolland punched the raisin loaf bread, popping it in a shower of dough, the thud muffled by the pastry. “That’s what happens-”

  Jayson’s suitcase slammed into the back of his head before he could finish. Rolland collapsed against the counter, and another slam from the suitcase dropped him to the floor. He groaned and shifted on the ground, holding his head while his sunglasses lay in pieces nearby.

  “Ow… What the hell?” Rolland rolled on his back, his eyes squinting as he looked up at Jayson. “When did you get here?”

  Lexanne Haunt moved to Jayson’s side, her arms crossed, and Jayson glared at Rolland, his world darkening slightly around his target.

  “My wife already declined your offer. Get out,” ordered Jayson.

  “Wait a second… When did you two get married?” said Rolland.

  “It was the one year anniversary of me kicking your ass at the reservoir summer camp.”

  Rolland winced and stood up, still holding his head and using the counter for support. “You never kicked my ass. I kicked your ass.”

  “You did not. And I’ll do it again if you don’t leave.”

  “Jayson, relax,” said Lexanne Haunt, gently squeeing his hand.

  “Yeah, Jayson. Relax,” said Rolland. He seethed and checked his hand for blood. None was there. “You’re a wrathful man, you know that? And where the hell is my backup?”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  “Eating cinnamon rolls,” said Jayson.

  “Idiots,” huffed Rolland. He stumbled to the door and gripped its frame pointing at Jayson and Lexanne Haunt. “But this was a big mistake on your part. When Mama Bear finds out what you did, you’ll be in a lot of trouble.”

  He exited the kitchen before Jayson or Lexanne Haunt can snap back, and he stumbled into the lobby, going straight to Dacre, Shae, and Cyrus.

  “And what are you three doing! You’re supposed to be my backup!” yelled Rolland.

  “We’re eating cinnamon rolls!” said Shae proudly.

  Rolland slapped Shae across the face and dragged him by the collar to the door. Jayson and Lexanne Haunt walked into the lobby and watched Rolland’s group going to the exit. Shae was thrown out, Dacre and Cyrus slid past Rolland, unable to look at him, and Rolland snapped around to point at Jayson.

  “This isn’t over, Jayson! Mark my words! Vengeance will be mine! … And Mama Bear’s!” said Rolland.

  He slammed the door shut, making the bell jingle. Then he reopened the door, whacked the bell off its hook and slammed the door again, leaving Jayson and Lexanne Haunt to stand in heavy silence. Seconds later, Lexanne Haunt’s shoulders slump and she leans against the doorframe, expelling a shaky sigh and rubbing her face, smearing her dark makeup.

  “That was scary. I’m glad he didn’t have a gun or you’d be dead,” said Lexanne Haunt, her voice cracking.

  “Well, he’s gone now. So, we’re fine,” said Jayson.

  “But what if he comes back? What if he trashes the places? We can’t afford repairs, Jayson! The sales barely cover the costs!”

  Jayson set his suitcase down and gently took his wife’s flour covered paws in his. “Hey, look at me.”

  Lexanne Haunt looked at Jayson, and he smiled at her.

  “We’ll be fine. Rolland is a talker. He’s just trying to scare us into selling out,” said Jayson.

  “But Mama Bear isn’t like the Bliss Syndicate. She isn’t a joke,” said Lexanne Haunt.

  “She’s wrapped up in a gang war. She won’t care about a bakery. Plus, do you really think Rolland wants to tell his superiors that he was beaten with a suitcase?”

  “I… I guess not… Maybe?”

  Jayson pulled Lexanne Haunt closer and rested his forehead against hers, their eyes locking. “Hey, I’m not going to let anything happen to you or this bakery. I promise.”

  Lexanne Haunt swallowed and stroked Jayson’s cheek. “You can’t promise that.”

  “How about a compromise? The bakery is replaceable, but you aren’t. I will protect you, no matter what. I promise,” said Jayson.

  Lexanne Haunt’s lips twitch to a smile, her brown eyes glazed. “That promise is more reasonable.”

  She stood on her toes to peck him on the lips. “I think I’m going to close down early tonight. Save on the electric bill. Want to help?”

  Jayson smiled. “Always.”

  (((((O)))))

  “You lied! You promised to protect me, and you didn’t! You killed me, Jayson!” yells Lexanne, her voice loud and shrill, and teetering on the brink of mad laughter.

  Jayson staggers back as Lexanne’s spectral form charges him. Her wild hair and fabric from her tattered dress twirl in the air through the blue haze, surrounded by colorful blobs and butterflies. Her white void eyes burn with malevolent hunger, and her grin nearly rips her head in two. Her very presence distorts the air around her, warping the colors and tainted structures. The metal rod in her grip fluctuates with colors and Jayson’s blood drips from it, the droplets making a ripple of color with every impact on the floor.

  “You’re not Lexanne!” shouts Jayson.

  “I might as well be!” says Lexanne. “I know everything about her. Her name, her anger, her sadness, her grudge against you. It’s all your fault! She knows it! I know it! You know it!”

  Jayson’s fiery blue eyes meet Lexanne’s pure white eyes, her grin clashing with his gritted teeth and snarl.

  Lexanne’s slender fingers stretch towards a pulsing cylinder. Without touching it, the large cylinder groans, wiggles, and snaps loose, and she throws it at Jayson.

  Jayson leaps away from it, briefly glancing at it as it bounces and crashes into a tower of colorful orbs, ejecting hazy confetti into the air.

  He looks back at Lexanne, watching as she raises her hand to yank off a stack of neon cylinders. She throws them at Jayson, and he leaps, ducks, and weaves through the chaos, each cylinder stabbing the ground and ejecting butterflies and confetti into the air.

  “Keep fighting! It makes your damnation more fun!” cackles Lexanne.

  Jayson rolls behind a pulsing vat, his weapon crackling with energy as the Reel Sight fumes warp reality around him. The flying debris crashing against his cover slows in his weapon’s pulsing aura, and Lexanne’s laughter echoes through the distorted factory, sending ripples of color through the air.

  “You can’t hide from me, Jayson! I’m with you forever!” says Lexanne.

  Another barrage of floating debris crashes against Jayson’s cover, causing glittering rainbow fluids to spray out and fill the area with sparkling butterflies. Then the vat rumbles, shakes, and snapes loose, pushing against Jayson’s back.

  He leaps away from the vat and dives to the floor as it swings over his head, smashing to support pillars that collapse a catwalk. The impacting metal pushes up whisps and glittering orbs, and Lexanne swipes the debris aside with her free hand while twirling her colorful rod. Her wide, white eyes and face tearing grin glow against her near black spectral form and the anarchic colors swirling around her.

  “You’re going to die here, Jayson. And when I take you down to Hell, you will see what I see. You will see what she sees. We will see together and feel together as one big happy family of God’s rejects!” says Lexanne.

  Jayson pushes himself to his feet, his cosmic wood sword trembling in his grip as he raises it defensively. His heart hammers against his ribs, each beat sending visible pulses of blue energy through the air as whisps and butterflies fly around the pair.

  The Reel Sight fumes burn Jayson’s lungs, but he forces himself to focus as Lexanne floats towards him, twirling her weapon. He slides one foot back, bracing himself, and aims at Lexanne, his eyes narrowing and his bloody muzzle scrunched to a snarl. The colorful world darkens, leaving just him and Lexanne in the void.

  “Your focused on me. Good,” says Lexanne, her eyes and grin the brightest point in the darkness.

  Jayson’s brows furrow, putting deep wrinkles on his face, and his blue eyes brighten in the black pools they reside in.

  Lexanne charges, and Jayson screams and runs towards her, his weapon pulsing and engulfing everything around it in blue aura, bringing everything to a crawl.

  Jayson swings, but much to his surprise, Lexanne shifts to the side and slams her weapon against his arms. Pain shoots through his bones and his weapon strikes the ground, sending a burst of energy away from Lexanne. Then Lexanne’s hand slams into his chest, claws piercing his clothing and flesh, scraping against his bones. Then a surge of electricity rips through Jayson’s heart and lungs, storming through his veins, and sending his grimy white fur and brown hair snapping in all directions.

  Jayson collapses on his knees, wheezing and twitching. Smoke rises from his wound and burnt clothing, and Mortimer drops next to him, clutching his burnt hand while his metal rod lays on the ground and his specialized glove smolders against his palm. Nearby is a trail of hyper aged concrete and metal, all spotted and brittle, and crumbling on themselves.

  “Holy shit… I can’t believe I pulled that off,” says Mortimer, short of breath and voice muffled by his mask. He grips Jayson’s shoulder and points at him with his burnt finger, grinning painfully as sweat and blood drip off him. “I finally got you, you pain in the ass. Now, I get to kill you, collect my money, and go home.”

  Jayson’s eyes still pulse, and his vision fluctuates from a burning factory to a disjointed world of bright colors and shapes. But despite the pain on his burnt chest and damaged veins, he manages to smile.

  “Good hit… How many have you killed, Morty?” says Jayson.

  Mortimer tightens his grip on Jayson’s shoulder. “Really? You’re still trying to piss me off?”

  Jayson shrugs.

  Mortimer huffs. “Dick. Anyway, it’s easily triple digits.”

  “Liar,” says Jayson.

  He then headbutts Mortimer, and as the fox curses and stumbles, Jayson lunges at him, gripping his throat tightly, pressing his body down, keeping Mortimer pinned to the floor. Mortimer gags and kicks and claws at Jayson, but the hobo does not relent. He tightens his grip, his eyes darkening and his blue irises glowing.

  “You should have stayed out of the way, Mortimer,” snarls Jayson. “Ramsey. Is. Mine. To kill! He and Mama Bear will pay for what they did if it’s the last thing I do!”

  Mortimer slams his non-injured hand against Jayson’s face, and with a loud yell, he unleashes a hell storm of electricity through the rabbit’s face. Jayson’s body convulses, stiffens, and then goes limp on top of Mortimer, his white fur and brown hair burnt off in a large patch and his skin darkened and cracked. The stench of burnt hair and flesh seeps past Mortimer’s gas mask, and he cringes as he rolls Jayson’s limp body off of him.

  “And stay down, you damn pain in the ass,” says Mortimer. He stares at the smokey ceiling, his goggles fogging from his heavy breathing and his other hand hot from his glove’s misuse. A ball of fire rolls into his view, and he tilts his head, eyes widening at the inferno taking over the destroyed factory. “Oh man… I’m so getting fired for this.”