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HELL’S KITCHEN

Mario sat in his office after hours and went over the next shipment of supplies. Everything there seemed to be in order, so he moved on to the next sheet of paper in his “in” box. On it was the number of people that they had seated that night. It looked rather short in comparison with the last few days. Even though business wasn’t as good as it had been in the past, this was way too few to be accurate. Mario got up and found the reservation log to compare the numbers. His restaurant could hold two hundred and fifty people at any given time. Tonight they were scheduled to have a full house until closing. In reality, they had literally half of that.

Mario couldn’t believe it. This was just too much. He had lost three waiters in the last three days, and now his customers were being severely affected. This was it. He had to find help now.

*********************************

Mitch sat at home watching TV. As usual he sat in the center of his couch facing the TV, which was to the right of his apartment door, with his crossbow on the cushion to his right, and his sword on his left. He glanced down at his new sword again. It’s black sheath and silver hand guard carved into the shape of a demons face gleamed in the light of the lamp next to the couch. He still didn’t fully understand his new sword, the power it held still stood just beyond his mental ability to grasp. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to understand every thing about it. Maybe the gods had intended for it to be that way when they made it, or so the legend says they did.

His phone rang over on the counter. Mitch looked at the clock, almost midnight, must be a very desperate client, or a very desperate friend in need. The only difference was that friends in need don’t pay his overdue electric bill. He got up and answered just before the machine would.

“Hello.” He tried to make his voice sound gruff like he had been sleeping.

“Is this Mitch Williams?” The voice on the other end said in a deep, accented voice, most likely Italian.

“Yes it is, can I help you?” His clients always got to the point rather slowly for fear of sounding crazy to some strange person who they’ve never met.

“I should hope so. My name is Mario Sergetti, I own Mario’s Italian Restaurant.” He paused here as if he expected a big reaction from Mitch, so Mitch gave him one.

“Oh, hello. I’ve never had the pleasure of eating in your restaurant myself, but I’ve heard some amazing things about it.” Mitch liked to flatter customers, especially the rich ones.

“Thank you, but I need your assistance in a matter of utter importance. It seems that something is driving away my staff and my customers. I’m rather afraid that it is something, how do you say, right up your alley?” He spoke with a very thick accent and seemed to like it that way.

“Well then, I’ll be over first thing in the morning. When do you want me?” Some people have weird definitions of first thing, and of morning for that matter.

“I arrive at nine o’clock, after my head waiter has arrived to prepare for the brunch crowd.”

“Then nine o’clock it is. I’ll see you then.” With that Mitch hung up the phone. All that talking about restaurants made him really hungry, that, and the fact that he ate lunch at two and hadn’t eaten since. He walked around the counter and into the kitchen to raid his own fridge. Damn, empty. Maybe he’ll get some free food out of this deal. He quickly made some ramen noodles and went to bed.

*********************************

The next morning Mitch awoke to the world’s most annoying sound, that of any and all alarm clocks. A shower, one hundred push-ups, one hundred sit-ups, and two pieces of dry white toast later, he was ready to go. He grabbed his sword, his crossbow, his wrist-mounted crossbow, and his leather jacket and walked out the door. He nudged the plain welcome mat up against the door with his foot as he locked it.

The sun glinted off of his truck as he walked out into the parking lot of his apartment building. He tossed his stuff onto the passenger seat and got in. He looked around at the clear sky as he put the key in the ignition and stopped. He got out of the truck, pulled his gear out with him, and walked over to his little garage across the lot. He punched in the code and watched as the door rose over the almost empty garage.

It was empty save for a beautiful motorcycle. He had to buy a new one after a pack of hellhounds trashed his last one. He now walked over to a Yamaha 650 Midnight Special. Everything on it was black, and he loved it. He placed the crossbow in its holster that he made from an old saddlebag, and slipped the special harness on his sword that let him strap it to his back. It also covered the entire thing so no one could tell what it was.

He walked it out into the lot, closed the garage door, and started her up. He sat for a while and let the bike warm up. He felt it start to rev and took the choke off. He looked around and smiled as he took off for his next job. Mitch rode for a while in moderate traffic. He eventually pulled into a back alley behind Mario’s and parked the bike next to a dumpster.

He didn’t want to leave his stuff sitting in the open, so he had to go in fully armed. Mitch checked the back door, unlocked. He opened it and walked in. He stepped into a small storeroom that was mostly empty. A small man in a tuxedo carrying a garbage bag walked in from what looked like the kitchen. He saw Mitch and dropped the bag. He paused for a moment, looked at the crossbow in his right hand, saw something long strapped to his back, and he turned and ran screaming, “Mario, Mario, Mario!” .

The little man must have been the headwaiter. Mitch shook his head and walked over to the door. Right as he reached out to push the swinging door someone else slammed it from the other side, hitting Mitch in the face. Mitch took a step back wards and looked at the person who swung the door. Another small man, this one in a chefs white jacket, came charging in holding a large knife.

Mitch sidestepped the downward slash the man, who had to be Mario, delivered with incredible speed and power. Mario brought his arm back to swing again, Mitch moved in and blocked him at the wrist with his own right forearm and grabbed his elbow with his free left hand.

“Mario, my name is Mitch Williams, we spoke on the phone last night.” Mario, still wide eyed, paused and stared at Mitch.

“Oh, of course. I apologize, it’s just that you came in through the back door, and you are armed. It severely frightened dumb Antonio.” Mario had lowered his arm and clutched at his chest with his left hand as he spoke. Mitch had kind of hoped he would have one of those mustaches that you always think of when you think of Italian people, but sadly he didn’t.

“I completely understand. My friends and I attack each other all the time.” Mitch actually had to look down to see Mario; Mitch was only about six foot even, which meant that Mario must be at just over five feet, maybe five and a half.

Mario smiled and nodded as he turned to walk back in to the kitchen. Mitch followed Mario as he walked over to a knife block and replaced the large knife. He then walked back in the direction they had just come from and went one door past the storeroom. Mario motioned for Mitch to sit down in a wooden chair sitting in front of Mario’s large wooden desk.

The office was only about ten foot by ten foot and seemed very cramped with the large desk sitting right in the center of it. The walls were bare wood, as were the floors. It wasn’t a bad office, it was obviously not used very often, paperwork was piled on the desk, and dust had collected in the corners and on the chair where Mitch now sat.

“So tell me about your problems.” Mitch set his weapons on the floor to his right, with the crossbow leaning against the chair in easy reach.

“Well it is rather difficult to explain. You see, nothing has actually happened, it’s just a strange feeling that sends shivers down your back that has been driving away my customers.” Mitch knew what he meant, he could feel it the moment he walked in. Granted he was more aware of it than normal people, but it was pretty bad. He had to find the source of it in order to stop it.

“And has all of your staff felt it?”

“Yes, they all complain all the time about it. They never get any work done because of it.” Mario was gesturing with his hands while he spoke. Nothing specific, just extending them out wards in annoyance.

“Has anyone in particular seemed less affected by it, or more affected?” Mitch hoped it was a weak shape shifting demon known as a Slark.

“Not that I can think of.” Mario stared off into space, lost in thought.

“Was there anyone who started around the same time that the disturbances did, that hasn’t quit?”

Mario stared off again, thinking even harder this time. “No, I’m sorry, I can’t think of anyone.” His eyes refocused and he shook his head slowly. “Do you think that it is one of my staff?” His eyebrows came together as he frowned.

“It is a possibility. I’m just not sure who or what they are, or what they’re doing.” It was Mitch’s turn to stare off into space. “Would it be alright if I stuck around for the rest of the day, to get a feel of things?”

“Why of course. You can stay in my office or wander around, just don’t frighten my customers or my staff and stay out of the way.” Mario pointed semi threateningly at Mitch.

“Sure, thank you.” Mitch stood up and turned to walk out, taking his stuff with him.

“I would feel better if you left your weapons in here.” Mitch turned and looked at Mario. He hated the idea, but he did it anyway. He walked over and laid his sword and crossbow on the chair he had just occupied. “I will personally cook you a lunch and dinner during your stay, okay?” Mario clapped Mitch on the shoulder as he came around his desk.

“Sounds great.” Mitch smiled warmly and returned the shoulder clap. Mario sagged a little when Mitch pushed down on his shoulder. Mario smiled and walked out into the kitchen. The kitchen was very large, about fifteen feet deep and twenty-five feet across. Down the middle were two eight-foot long “islands” with assorted cooking utensils and items. Mitch had absolutely no idea what any of the items were, he felt like he was staring at an alien laboratory.

The door to Mario’s office was at one end, the store room door was roughly in the center, and on the opposite wall were two sets of double swinging doors for the wait staff to carry food out through. Mitch walked around for a while familiarizing himself with the kitchen layout and any potential problems. He noted the large amount of sharp objects and feared for a showdown in the kitchen, he had seen Under Siege.

Mitch looked through the small round windows in the doors out at the dinning room. It was largely red with gold accents and white tablecloths. It looked big, but it was hard to tell through a window the size of a basketball. He pushed the door open and stepped in. The door he used came out about a third of the way down the back wall, the other kitchen door was at two thirds down the wall. The room was huge, it held fifty tables ranging from two people to eight or more.

The restrooms were in a small niche to Mitch’s left, other wise the room was one large rectangle. By the front door, which was across from Mitch and a little to the right in the corner, was a podium for the headwaiter, and two couches lining the corner for the guest to sit in while waiting for a table. No fancy architecture, but what it lacked in that area, it made up for with its foods quality.

Mitch watched as the waiters and early shift cooks came in and set to work. All of them stared at Mitch as they walked through towards the kitchen, Mitch had seated himself in the corner closest to the kitchen door. None of them gave off an evil presence, at least not that Mitch could tell.

The headwaiter, Antonio, came out and took his place at the podium. He kept glancing quickly at Mitch, Mitch wasn’t sure whether or not Antonio knew why Mitch was there. Mitch looked around the room for any signs of, well anything really. Antonio was now so intent on Mitch that he didn’t notice the three customers that entered and were waiting to be seated.

“Antonio,” Mario stuck his head out the kitchen door. “Antonio, turn your big stupid head around and look at the customers.” Antonio shook his head and turned to look at the people, who were now staring wide-eyed at Mario. Mario made a gesture like he was smacking Antonio in the back of the head and returned to the kitchen.

Antonio seated the brunch-goers, rather red in the face. Mitch couldn’t tell whether he was embarrassed or angry, he seemed to be a little of both.

There were four people, two parents and two children. The kids looked about twelve and seven. As the father sat down his chair broke, the legs splayed out in all directions and the back fell off. Antonio mumbled apologies and found another chair for the man. Mitch found the whole incident rather peculiar, the man wasn’t very big, Mitch probably weighed more than he did. Mitch looked at the pieces of the broken chair as a waiter carried them to the back, most likely to the dumpster near Mitch’s bike. The breaks were clean at the joints in the wood. Very little actual breaking seemed to have happened. It looked like the joints just came apart right as the guy sat down.

Mitch sat in his corner and watched as more people came and were seated. About every five minutes Mario would stick his head out of the kitchen and yell at Antonio, in Italian if he was particularly angry. After one rather lengthy berating in Italian, a waiter standing directly between Antonio and Mario fell over as if pushed by an unseen force. Three people waiting to be seated got up and left after seeing this.

Mitch was sure now that it was Antonio. But he couldn’t tell what it was that was happening. He didn’t want to just go and kill him, Mitch knew that Antonio was human. He didn’t want to hurt him unless he absolutely had to, if there was a way to stop the evil with out harming Antonio, Mitch was going to find it.

At about three o’clock, when the lunch crowd was seated and all eating, Mario came out and handed Mitch a steaming plate of what looked like grilled chicken with noodles, broccoli, and some sort of sauce.

“Here you go, I promised you a meal.” Mario was smiling as he set the plate down in front of Mitch.

“Thank you very much.” Mitch shifted the plate on the table out of sheer compulsion.

“Have you made any progress on the uh…” Mario looked around nervously, “problem?”

Mitch put his fork down and tried to swallow faster, almost choking, to try and answer. “I think so, I’ve got a lead I’d like to follow up on.”

Mario looked very relieved. “Oh thank goodness, thank you.” Mario walked back into the kitchen, leaving Mitch to eat in peace. Mitch watched Antonio as he answered the phone. Antonio reached out to grab the pen and stopped about two inches shy of it. Mitch watched closely as the pen jumped out of its place and into Antonio’s hand. Mitch shook his head and looked again. Mitch couldn’t believe it, he had never encountered a true psychic before and didn’t really believe that they existed. He had to make sure, he had to watch for more signs.

Antonio wrote the reservation in the log and replaced the pen. While he was on the phone several people had walked in and stood waiting. They didn’t seem to mind the wait, they probably expected at least a small wait, but Mario hated to leave any customers waiting for any length of time. So Mario once again walked out of the kitchen and began yelling at Antonio in Italian. Antonio looked like he was going to explode, Mitch thought that he might. Antonio apologized to the people waiting through barred teeth. He stalked over to a table and pointed to it indicating for them to sit down.

“It is about time,” Mario muttered as he turned back into the kitchen. Antonio looked up having heard him, and the table he was pointing at flipped completely over and landed on the table next to it. Mario turned to see what made all the noise.

“Antonio, what is this?” Mario yelled across the room at his headwaiter.

“I am tired of taking your ****.” Antonio screamed back in very accented English, he pronounced **** like sheet.

Mitch stood up and moved to the other side of his table, placing himself closer to Mario and Antonio. Everyone in the restaurant stood up and backed away, the ones closest to the door turned and ran. Antonio’s face was red with anger.

“You can not talk to me that way, you work for me.” Mario poked at his own chest to emphasize the me. Mitch inched closer and closer to Antonio.

“Not any more.” Antonio spoke and at the same time three forks rose up from the nearest table and pointed themselves at Mario. Mitch leapt on to a table and dived to tackle Antonio. Mario ran into the kitchen as the forks all raced towards him. They embedded themselves all the way up to the handle in the wall next to the kitchen door.

Antonio pushed Mitch off of him and stood up. Mitch stood up facing him from about four feet away. Mitch heard something move behind him, he didn’t want to turn his back on Antonio, so he side stepped and watched as an entire table fell right where he had just been. Four knives rose behind Antonio and shot past him at Mitch. Mitch rolled forwards and under the knives towards Antonio. He came out of his roll and rose nose to nose with Antonio. Mitch drew his right hand back and punched him right in the face.

Antonio reeled backwards and fell over a chair.

“Every body out, NOW!” Mitch pointed at the door and walked over to the sprawled form of Antonio as the large dining hall emptied. Antonio physically threw the chair that he had tripped over at Mitch. Mitch sidestepped it easily and kept walking. This time three whole tables, meant to seat nine people each, came flying at Mitch from different directions. Mitch flattened on the floor as the tables collided over-head and fell on top of him. Mitch heard footsteps and by the time he got out from under the tables, Antonio was gone and the kitchen door was swinging.

Mitch ran into the kitchen, but through the other door closer to the storeroom and office. Mitch burst in to the kitchen and saw waiters hiding, waitresses screaming and running for the door, and Mario holding a large knife, like the one he had attacked Mitch with earlier, facing Antonio from across an island. Mario was pleading with Antonio, begging him to stop.

“No, I come in here day after day and put up with all the crap you give me. You yell at me all the time and you never recognize the work that I do.” Mitch grabbed a knife from the counter next to him and threw it at Antonio. It hit him handle first in the head, Mitch wasn’t great at throwing knives, but he though he’d give it a shot. Antonio whirled to face him.

“Did I not just deal with you?” Antonio took a step towards Mitch and sent a pan flying right at his head. Mitch ducked and slid in behind the island. A waitress that had been hiding there screamed.

“Don’t hurt me please.” She was small and blonde, had she not been frightened out of her mind, she would have been very good looking.

“Don’t worry, I’m here to help.” Mitch gave her his hero smile and looked back at where Antonio had been. Antonio was slowly stalking over to Mitch’s end of the island. Mitch pointed around the other corner mouthing “move that way” to the waitress. She nodded and moved. Mitch followed her around the corner and stayed low behind the island. He raised his head just enough to see over the top and saw Antonio staring right at him.

Mitch ducked back down as the various items on the counter top flew at his face. He stood up and slid on his stomach across the now clear counter top. He twisted as he went and turned to land on his feet as he fell of the other side. Antonio threw a looping right hand punch at him. Mitch ducked straight down, not having room to either side, and punched Antonio in the stomach.

Both of Antonio’s hands clutched at his stomach, Mitch popped back up in front of him and punched him once again in the face. Antonio sagged, then dropped onto the floor. Antonio looked up at Mitch from the floor and Mitch saw it, the truth about what was going on. Antonio’s eyes had turned completely black. Antonio may be a human psychic, but he was a possessed human psychic.

Mitch was not fully prepared to deal with possession. He could do an exorcism, but not off the top of his head. And his supply of holy water he had left back at his apartment. He had to find a way to trap Antonio so that he could get the demon out.

Antonio took advantage of Mitch’s brief pause and animated six knives from a nearby counter. Mitch heard the tip scrape against the counter top as one lifted, he turned to see all of them poised, like six king cobras, ready to strike their prey. Mitch waited for them to move before ducking. He knew that if he moved too early they would follow. The first one flinched and Mitch dropped to the floor and rolled away. He looked back and saw six knives embedded in the island where he had been.

Antonio had stood up and was now staring at Mitch. Mitch stood up and stared right back. He noticed that behind Antonio everyone was leaving through the back door, he also noticed that the office holding his weapons was behind Antonio as well. This was bad, the enemy now stood between Mitch and his rescue. Antonio saw Mitch’s stare move behind him and glanced over his shoulder. Mitch moved in.

Mitch punched again, Antonio didn’t fall, no longer needing to seem human. Mitch punched again and again and again. Antonio moved but he didn’t fall. Mitch hit him in the stomach to get him to bend over. He hit him again, this time with an uppercut that landed right under Antonio’s chin. As Mitch’s fist impacted under Antonio’s jaw, he pressed the trigger on the wrist-mounted crossbow. A bolt went through his lower jaw and got stuck in his upper jaw. Antonio’s head snapped back like he was looking up to god, ironically enough he was about to go some-where else.

A cloud of black smoke rushed out of Antonio’s mouth like a swarm of angry bees. Antonio fell backwards after the cloud had finished it exodus. The cloud recollected where Antonio had previously stood. Mitch ran around the still reforming demon towards the office, and Oni Ketsueki. Mitch almost ran into the doorframe as he turned into the office, he barely noticed Mario cowering under his desk. Mitch reached out and grabbed the handle of his sword. In one clean practiced motion he brought the sword to his hand and drew it from its sheath.

Oni Ketsueki, named demons blood for that was what it was forged in, shown brilliant white in the presence of evil. Mitch, now armed and dangerous, walked back into the kitchen.

Mitch was greeted by a very large pan soaring at his face. He cut down on the pan as it got with in range. The pan split evenly in two and each piece passed by Mitch harmlessly. The demon was short, maybe four and a half feet tall, and was pure black, like the cloud it turned into. It had no claws and no tail, and it really didn’t have very sharp teeth, that’s why it had to possess humans. Humans are tougher than this demon, so Mitch didn’t have a lot to be worried about.

The possession demon, as its commonly known, backed up and looked around for more things to throw. Lacking further ammunition, the demon jumped at Mitch. Mitch simply held his sword out in front of him for the demon to impale itself on. The possession demon, wasn’t very tough or bright, so it did just as Mitch thought it would. The once tough psychic, was now a demon kabob.

Mitch punched the writhing demon in the face, then he picked up his foot and slid the demon off his sword. It now lay wriggling and squirming in pain. It stood up, and Mitch swung his sword, decapitating the demon in one easy motion. He sheathed Oni Ketsueki and set it down.

Mitch grabbed the demon’s head and body and drug it through the back door. He heard sirens in the distance, one of the customers must have called the cops. Mitch opened the dumpster and threw the limp body of the demon inside it. He searched through his pockets for some matches, he found some and struck one. The fire didn’t seem to glow very much, it was light outside. Mitch took one last look at the demon and threw in the match. He watched to make sure that the garbage around it caught, and then went back in to retrieve his gear.

He heard the cops bust down the front door as he quickly grabbed the sword and crossbow. Just as Mitch was walking towards the back door, he felt something grab his leg. He looked down and saw a barely conscious Antonio, crossbow bolt still in his mouth, holding on to his leg for dear life. Mitch knew that he couldn’t get caught, and that when the cops got here they’d call the ambulance for Antonio. So Mitch pried Antonio’s fingers off his leg and ran out the back door.

He placed the crossbow in its holster, strapped his sword to his back, and walked the bike to the open end of the alley. He looked both ways to see if the cops were guarding the back door. They must not have thought about that yet, they never do at first. He started up the bike and took off for home.

The whole way back he was thinking about Antonio, how he did what he did, if it was really him and not the demon, and where Mitch could find him again.

Copyright 2007 Michael Coglan
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