Limbo, Inc. - Prologue

Frightening

Herman was an efficient killer when he kept his mind on his task. Sometimes he got distracted being around humans and their disgusting quirks. He found them nauseating. In all honesty, they gave him chills when he had to be around them. He was afraid of the parts of him that were like them.

New York is a dirty city underneath. Forgotten tunnels, corridors, pathways spread out like a cancer, digging deeper. Many of the tunnels are accessible with the right amount of effort and even legal, but you should know, areas like these attract a certain element.

In one of these many subway tunnels that rested below one of the many bad parts of town was a diner. The small structure of metal and glass was built into the wall off on the side of what used to be a large platform where many people once stopped, but this was not true anymore. The area now possessed an unpleasant odor, and the lights over the platform flickered ominously in certain areas. The bulbs inside the small rectangular diner were dim. The waitress and cook were in the back joking about recent dating misfortunes, satisfied that their customers were not complaining.

Herman sat on the bar stool. He leaned over the counter that looked out the smeared glass onto the platform. His eyes narrowed staring into the darkness. He adjusted his old Georgia football cap on his balding head, securing it as if it protected him from the world. He heard the kitchen door swing open as the middle-aged, light-haired, waitress came out carrying a plate with a burger on it. She placed the food down in front of the only other customer, an elderly black man, and quickly returned to the kitchen to continue her conversation with the cook.

He picked up his burger hungrily and dug into it. His wore a grey jumpsuit. Above the front left pocket was the name “Phillip”. The back was a horrible purple color meant to contrast against the grey material of the suit. The lettering advertised his current employer, a plumbing company. Philip was a lifetime employee and was content with remaining so, even though he had just completed a thankless ten hour shift and was now on-call. This was the first chance he had been able to sit down and eat all day.

Herman heard the sound of Philip crunching into the overcooked burger. He hated it. The act of eating had some of the worst sounds. Food was disgusting. If he did not have to eat, he wouldn’t. Philip’s teeth grinded the processed meat and bread with sucking and squirting noises. The food was ground to paste between his teeth and then forced down squeezing through his throat. Herman could hear every bite, every swallowing noise. It sounded like a pig was feeding beside him. Worst of all, though Philip left his mouth open just enough with each bite to not seem completely rude, there where a small wheezing noise that most wouldn’t have noticed accompanied the chewing. Herman didn’t realize his nails were digging into the counter until it hurt. He stood up and turned, dropping a five on the counter. With a ring of the rusted bell he headed out the glass door. Herman paused to take in the musty subway air; tainted by fumes and grime but somehow this seemed better than the café.

A few minutes later Philip finished his food and looked at his watch. He smiled at the waitress as he got up and paid. Humming to himself, he stuffed his change into a wallet filled with old receipts and torn pictures. The waitress turned the outside lights off as he was leaving and locked the door. Philip stopped humming as he realized he didn’t know where his little song was going anymore. The pink and blue of “Open” sign flickered and faded in the reflection of a puddle. The sign was the last sputtering of light as he walked to the platform and waited for his train. He fumbled for something in his pocket. Keys on to the concrete with a metallic rattle. He squinted; it was too dark. He pulled out an old cell phone and tried to use the light to see where his keys were. The jangle of his fingers pushing against the keys. But he had already stopped, he had already stopped having heard a noise.

“Hey,” a raspy voice hissed.

Philip squinted. His shaky eyes peered into the shadows as he leaned forward. A quick gleam of light, held by the serrated blade as it went against his throat with a fluid motion. The black glove followed to cover his mouth. There was a momentary, almost silent struggle as Philip was pulled off of the platform and dragged back into the tunnel. He was mumbling, crying, muffled through the glove. Herman thought it sounded just like eating, but more satisfying.