The Side Job
The fires had been extinguished and there were no heavy casualties besides a few injured workers. The demon had been sealed, and Arc sat in the open trunk of a rescue car, getting first aid.
Quill walked over to him. "You okay?"
The responder packed up and went to the others after tending to Arc.
"Just a few cuts and burns," Arc replied, looking at his bandages. "How about you and Crescent?"
"I'm good, and she's fine. She's actually helping with the first aid. Look." Quill pointed near the ambulance, where Crescent was adjusting the oxygen pressure for a victim.
"So she really wants to be in the medical field..."
"Doesn't that make you think of... our actual paths?" asked Quill, his eyes distant.
Arc turned to him. "What was your dream?"
Quill chuckled. "Dream? That sounds so like you." He stood up and stretched his sides. "I didn't have one before, but I have a goal now." He relaxed, and a sigh escaped his lips.
Eyebrows raised, Arc looked at him, anticipating his answer.
"I will get to the bottom of this demon possession..." He turned, looking at the busy movements of the responders. "Even if that means I have to fight the king of hell himself," said Quill, his voice certain.
A shiver went down Arc's spine, and his heart started pounding.
"But!" Quill laughed, which melted into a sigh. "I'm still weak..." A faint smile spread across his face. "But that's okay, since I'm not alone."
Arc looked down, unsure of whether to tell the truth about what happened earlier.
"Quill..." he began, but in that short moment, Cindy walked over to them with a bandaged arm.
"How are your bodies?" she asked.
"Are you only interested in our bodies?" Quill sat down, crossing his arms.
Cindy was flustered for a moment. "I-I mean, how are you, i-in general?"
Quill chuckled. "As you can see, we're fine. And nobody got badly injured, so that's good."
"Well, except Bryan." Cindy looked ahead, and they followed her gaze. "He broke his left arm."
"Poor guy. Tsk tsk." Quill shook his head.
Sycamore, who had just arrived, joined them, a cigarette between his fingers.
"Someone will not be happy," Quill said as Sycamore threw the remaining cigarette on the pavement and stepped on it.
"So, how were things?" Sycamore began, ignoring Quill's words.
Cindy filled him in on the details, and they nodded in agreement. Then she headed to Bryan to help him.
"How about Pierrot?" Sycamore inquired.
"He was on a case with Kit, now he's off somewhere," Quill answered.
"What for?"
"Well, to tell the truth, our budget's been cut this month," Quill groaned. "I don't know the smartass that suggested that'd be the case, but it was approved."
"So what are you gonna do about it?" Sycamore took his notes out and began to write something down.
"If only my account's not frozen right now."
"Your account?"
"My bank account. I'm rich as hell."
"Why can't you open it then?"
"Stuff happened."
A moment of silence, before Quill ruffled his hair. "Ugh, and the fried chicken shop's not that profitable either," he said.
"Your shop's located at the downtown's dead end, who would go there?"
Quill sighed. "I know."
"So Pierrot took another job. Huh. How novel." Sycamore scoffed, popping in a gum into his mouth.
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"SPIRITS BEGONE!" he jumped from side to side, carrying a dull and flimsy golden sickle and branches with leaves attached.
He rattled it round and round, as the bells on his waist rang loud, sharp, pierced in all directions. The bright colors in his regalia, worn alongside a black bear fur shook with his every dance, with his every bounce.
The woman who had called the man over had set up the colorful altar full of fruit offerings and golden statues of faces, white thick candles—lit, scattered on the long table, adorned with red, blue, yellow, and white fabrics.
She sat in a formal sitting position with legs folded and tucked underneath her body, maintaining an upright posture. Her hands rubbed together and fervently prayed, swaying forward and back.
"EVIL SPIRITS! LEAVE THIS PLACE! DEPART FROM HERE!" the jangling vigorously proceeded and the hops higher and more enthusiastic. "OH GREAT DIVINE SPIRIT, CLEANSE THIS PLACE!"
As the clanging grew more deafening, the house owner dedicatedly followed with fervent rubbing of palms.
"~I'm on the highway to hell~" Highway to hell by Bon Scott blared from Pierrot's phone—suddenly pausing the lively ritual. He lunged for it, abandoning his sacred implements, and they scattered out of his hands awkwardly.
The woman, determined, keeping her eyes shut, had been forewarned that any peek would render the ritual futile. So there she sat, eyes and hands clenched tight, waiting in anticipation...
"Hey, what's up? I'm on a gig," said Pierrot, lying stomach down. "Yeah, it's ongoing."
He looked back, seeing the woman still closing her eyes, earnest.
"Five minutes," he grunted, as he stood up and tidied his clothing. "Yeah yeah, I know," he hung up and threw his phone beside his helmet, proceeding with the last part of his so-called cleansing rite.
"Seriously, can't a guy do his job in peace?" he mumbled, picking up the sickle and branches.
Now equipped with all of the props, he began leaping side to side once more. "SPIRITS BEGONE!" and the woman continued to rub her hands as if nothing happened in between.
As the final sequence of dance reached its peak, Pierrot spun and rolled, threw the sickle up, caught it, and deftly manipulated the props in dramatic ways. He jiggled his whole body from his toes up to his raised arms and tossed all the props exclaiming, "IT IS FINISHED!"
Sweat trickled down his temples and with arms outstretched and grinning widely, he shed the ceremonial regalia, placing it meticulously on the table before turning to the homeowner.
"Madam..." he swallowed, feeling his throat dry, "...can I have a glass of water?"
The homeowner, eyebrows furrowed, wondered if this was a test. Surely she was told no matter what the spirit tells her she must not open her eyes.
"Madam..."
The homeowner refuses to acknowledge the voice and continued to rub her palms together.
"Madam!" Pierrot shook her by the shoulders, "The ritual is finished!"
She peeked, "Ah.." realizing the current situation, she stood up but felt her legs give in, causing Pierrot to catch her by the arm.
"Are you alright, madam?"
The woman stood up and straightened her clothes, "Ah, yes, Thank you very much for the ritual today…" she scurried inside her home and grabbed her wallet, "As for the compensation…"
"That will be 1,500,000 won, Madam. As you might have heard of a beautiful
The woman started to count the money she had, "H-here…" and handed it in hesitation. Pierrot took the cash and after a few push and pull, he succeeded.
He smiled, "Rest easy, Madam, your home is now clean and safe." A bow for formalities was done and Pierrot whistled his way out of the tall gates.
The heavy wood closed behind him, "Well, anywhere I go will be clean." A smirk left his face and he put on his helmet, "Easy money!" and skipped to his bike.