The collapse

"Now, we can do this easily for ourselves. Christopher. Give me the information I need, and I will grant you death. No lies now. A deal with the devil?" The words echoed hollowly in Christopher's mind. "But this will be remembered in Gehenna…." The vivid pictures of the demon's moulding mouth uttering those words with delight flashed through his head.

"I'm looking for a girl. A foul breed of demons. She carries something valuable…." More pictures flashed through of his leg getting infested by larvae. " I am Moloch, I declare your absolute death."

"Number sixty-one! Number sixty-one please step forward!" A woman said from the counter. Christopher looked at his slip of paper with the number sixty-two printed on it.

Moloch…what a stupid fucking name. An elderly woman in her eighties got up from a chair a few seats away from him. She looked at her slip of paper with a smile as she slowly reached for her walking stick and proceeded to make her way…swiftly… to one of two serving customer counters. Christopher turned his head to the window outside; it was still bright or grey outside. God, this is taking forever. How long does it take to check your bank balance? The waiting room was spacious, filled with about thirty chairs spread around, yet there were only seven other people behind him in the waiting line. As he quietly sat there, waiting for the other middle-aged bank woman to read up his number. He tapped with his fingers on the leather chair, sinking into his thoughts of what had happened two nights before. A bit shaken the first evening, he mainly spent the day resting as he mostly slept away the day. Following today, he had set himself on a journey on why he had really arrived to Varberg. To visit a bank. "Number sixty-two! Number sixty-two would you please step forward?" As he heard his number, he quickly rose up, adjusting the sword on his hilt as he walked over to the in-glassed counter. The woman on the other side of the glass was in her thirties, wearing big round glasses with a brunette ponytail hanging on the side. She wore an excessive amount of lipstick on her lips as the smacking of chewing gum was heard.

"Name." She said with an uninterested tone glaring at a computer screen.

"Christopher Anders!" he answered with a clear voice. She continued to chew wet and loudly as he heard the smattering of her nails against the keyboard. She pouted her lips as she stared with an analysing face towards the screen.

"No, the internet is not working today." Has it ever? She quickly removed her eyes from the screen and locked them on Christopher.

"Welcome to the bank of Varberg; how can I be of service?"

"I would like to check on my stock portfolio, account number 76231."

She pouted her lips again as she returned with her eyes towards the monitor and hunched her neck a bit. She clicked for a few seconds.

"A moment, please; I will soon get back to you, sir." She said as she continued to smatter on the keyboard. Christopher let out a big sigh as he turned his head around to observe the surroundings. He looked to the floor, where he saw golden confetti on the floor. Weird, I wonder what they must have been celebrating. He looked up and shifted his head to the right, where he saw the elderly woman with the number before, lift up a plastic bag. She placed it on the counter where the sound of coins hitting each other could be heard. Old woman, why are you bringing pennies? The lights on the roof began to flicker a bit, making him look up responsively. The woman serving him on the other side of the counter got visibly annoyed as she hit the screen with a flat hand.

"Fucking wind turbines must stand still again…" She mumbled as she let out a big sigh.

Having caught his attention, Christopher chose to break the silence.

"So, have you guys recently been celebrating something, or what's with the confetti?" The woman broke her attention from the screen and lasered them intimidatingly onto him before suddenly smiling.

"Oh, yeah." She said with a laugh following.

"The manager gave us raises and promoted our work which we… it's a bit embarrassing and unprofessional, but we celebrated with confetti and some champagne." she said with a shined-up grin as she placed the ponytail on her left shoulder. Christopher politely smiled. Must be nice to get raises. She smiled again as she looked with her eyes of disappointment towards the monitor.

"I'm sorry, computers are not working today, but I can go and get the file on your account. Just give me one second honey." She quickly got off the chair and went to the back of the room, where she disappeared behind a door. He patiently placed his arm on the counter, waiting for her to come back. He turned his body towards the glassed entrance door. Watching outside how there was the activity of people wandering in the streets, seeing how grey clouds covered the sky, with no end to be sighted in the furthest distance.

"Right, Christopher, I got your stock portfolio right here…" Christopher turned around as the woman closed the door with a brown folder in her free arm. She stopped at the desk and sat down. Licking her finger as she began to flick through some papers.

"Now, do you want a specific share security or certificate, or are you just interested in the overall performance sheet?"

"I'm more interested in the performance, please." He answered. She stopped at a sheet of paper and pulled it out. Reading the paper, she raised an eyebrow before looking up with her eyes at Christopher.

"That's an impressive amount you have gathered there."

Oh. Bring out the news!

"Approximately forty-three thousand crowns."

Huh?

Christopher's eyebrows pointed like an arrow downwards as his nose wrinkled. "But I had seventy-one thousand invested."

"I mean… forty-three is a good amount still; you could take out a loan if you would choose to sell them off today even! Your credit is quite good." The woman continued.

He suddenly began to feel a bit dizzy. Blinking with his eyes a couple of times, like he was signalling with Morse code to a higher power. No, no, no. This is worse than the dog incident.

"Or you might be interested in increasing your amount of shares, perhaps even branching out to different companies? I could bring out the catalogue for you to skim through some of the west coast's more promising enterprises!" She continued as her eyes read through the performance sheet.

"Wait-wait, stop, will you? I had seventy-one thousand invested. This is the last family heritage I have left, and you tell me that it sunk by… what, forty percent?"

The woman rolled her eyes and let out a big sigh.

"Due to recent political events in Russia, it has caused volatility in the stock market, especially throughout eastern and northern Europe."

The sudden taste of acid became apparent in the back of his throat upon hearing those words. He had to readjust his standing as his knees began to feel weak. He covered his mouth for a second to let it all sink in.

"Sir, see it from the bright side! You beat the Stockholm index as it sunk by sixty-three percent this year!"

God, I can't breathe….Hold back the tears, Anders…Fucking Russia, It's always fucking Russia…

He paused and swallowed before silently whispering out with a voice meagre and soar.

"What was each stock's performance?"

She tilted her glasses, reading out loud.

"Hmmm, Volvo became bankrupt…Nordic metal mining ventures sunk with eighty percent, Kalmar agriculture sunk by thirty-two, hmmm, let's see…Oh your investment in Varberg estates rose by three hundred and twenty-one percent!"

Oh shit, 321%, that's good! No…wait it dosen't matter. I still lost fucking thirty thousand in shares.

"And your investment in SAAB sunk by eleven percent… Yeah, It's not looking good unfortunately for Swedish stocks at all at the moment. It's also bad timing since the news is very fresh on Russia."

My god, is it warm in here?! I could have sworn it was cold just a minute ago.

"uhm, so what happened in Russia exactly?"

"Oh some important city lost to Demon's, there is something more about Moscow. I just got a small recap from my boss yesterday I don't know the details."

You know what. It can't go up anyways. Cut the losses.

Christopher took a deep breath, heaving in a large amount of air, shutting his eyes before blowing the air out in a sigh impressive to the most bitter mother-in-law.

"You know what, I don't care. I would like to sell everything for the current market price to the bank; you can sell it off when the panic wears off a bit and the prices slightly shift up."

The banker smiled towards him, perhaps out of pity, as she complied.

"No worries, Christopher! I will get back to the vault and get you the money in cash."

Yeah, not like I can load them up on a credit card anyways.

She disappeared again towards the backroom while she was entering the door. The other accountant that was serving the old lady next to him got out with a bag full.

"Here you go, Annika! You got lucky too with the withdrawal of your pension funds! We are closing now!" The other accountant said.

Closing? But the bank is open until five?

He couldn't help but throw an eye to the lady on the left as she happily smiled and took the bag; she opened the bag, and it was revealed that it contained five-hundred crown bills in mass. His attention got snapped away as he turned towards the backroom door where his own accountant came out with a nervous smile.

"I'm sorry to inform you, Christopher, but the vault is empty, and we are out of business!"

What the fuck.

"Out of business?!"

"Yes, due to recent events in Russia, it has caused a widespread amount of panic among our customers, causing large amounts of withdrawals." The woman said with eyes pleading behind the glasses, but with red lips smiling as if the situation was alright.

But they were given raises yesterday?!

"Say that again…."

She looked at him whit a mouth shaped like an O.

"Due to recent events in Ru-"

"NO! Not that part. Are you guys closing?! What about my money?!"

Her mouth closed, and she looked over to her colleague, who gave terrified yet silent eyes about the situation.

"W-well, the B-bank of Varberg has officially closed and we can unfortunately not cover customer losses…Uhm, Christopher, your eyes are twitching. Is everything alright with you?"

He grabbed the counter and looked to the floor, feeling his head pound like the heart in his chest. Bent over, with his hands clenching the counter. He looked over to the old lady who, in bliss and happiness, counted the money in her bag. She do not need the money. She is only a handful of years away from dying of old age anyways.

He swallowed the saliva in his mouth.

"I mean, it's not entirely empty in the vault, I think I saw four-hundred crowns lying around. I-I can fetch it for you if you want!" The accountant said.

I could just go up to the old lady and take the money; it would be like stealing candy from a child!

"Christopher? I know the news is a bit rough. Can I fetch you a glass of water?"

No! Snap out of it, leave the poor lady alone. It's the bank that is at fault!

He finally removed his vengeful glare from the old lady who was grabbing her stick with the money in her handing, preparing to leave. He looked to the now unemployed accountant with red, vein-filled eyes.

"The bank director! The man who gave you raises. What is his name!?"

The woman tilted her head backwards, not to catch anything evil from whatever was cooking up in Christopher's mind.

"Frederik Hyllemann. Why?"

"Is he to be found, your manager?"

"No, he left early today. He had suitcases, said he was going on a trip to Düsseldorf."

A suitcase, huh?! That thieving fucking bastard knew that the bank would collapse. He emptied the treasure and fled. Spineless cunt, If I can find him… Oh, I'm booking a one-way ticket to hell.

"Do you know anything about his where abouts? Perhaps what boat he is taking off with?" He said without his teeth barring to let go of each other.

"Don't worry; he hasn't left port yet. He said he would take a stop to the Societén Pub outside the fortress."

The fortress. Ships might be moving at any given time, not to mention the size of the port. Fuck it, I'm not losing that much money over some schmuck.

"Sir, if there is anything we can do for your financial loss, perhaps you want the fourhundred cro-"

"HAVE A GREAT DAY AND SPLENDID CUSTOMER SERVICE!"

Christopher shouted at the top of his lungs as he turned his heels and ran towards the entrance door. Leaving the other people in the waiting room in shock. The sound of boots hitting the floor, along with the sound of a bell ringing, embraced people on the outside of the bank as Christopher jumped out. Blood was flowing through him like a river, and the sensation of his body itching hit him as he began to feel warm. Some stares were thrown at him as people walked passed him in the busy street. It was, after all a Friday in one of the nation's few booming cities.

The Societén Pub, near the fortress. Not familiar with the pub but I am with the fortress. It's about a kilometre from where I'm standing. Any minute wasted could be months and years worth of savings and hard work. I can not let that man escape.

The streets were made of square stones that tangled through small blocks of buildings like wood trails. Most buildings were only two stories and densely packed. The feeling of a little, little millimetre drop of water hit his forehead.

Straight towards the sea.

He began running, with his body already warmed up and in haste. There was no difficulty reaching speed as he began swirling through the tangled streets with legs light and head lighter. More drops of water began to tap down on him; looking to the sky, the clouds became even darker, or perhaps it was the closing night that was slowly creeping in. Either way, the daylight was fading while he dodged and jumped to the left and right, effectively not bumping into people who gave him angry glares every time he narrowly avoided a collision. His breath was heavy, and he was heaving air like a dog, although he could not recognise the need for oxygen in the hurry.

Fuck, I forgot to ask what he looks like. Shouting for him is not exactly a winning strategy. Look for bank man stereotypes?

More people began to lift up hoods and seek the inner side of the streets to let the building roofs eat up the rain, leaving the main street open for Christopher as the red to light grey stone squares on the street floor began to turn dark grey and even slightly black as more rain began to pour.

Easy now, don't slip and fracture that pretty brain of yours.

Changing the movement and letting his feet land more directly from above; he found himself surprised over how easily he was tapping through the streets in the rain.

Focus, what does this Frederik Hyllemann look like? Okay, Bank-man stereotype. Perhaps Jewish? No, it's statistically impossible. More towards the monopoly man? Maybe, although someone that old might not be able to carry many suitcases. Look for a prick in a suit!

Winds began to hit his face, and the taste of salt came along with it, causing some resistance to his running. The city blocks were disappearing, and the sea waves moved in the distance as he entered a green park. Well into the park, he saw how the leaves on the trees were long gone from the autumn storms that had ravaged the coast. The fortress stood right by the sea like the mountain it was. He began to slow down as he felt the adrenaline wearing off and his breath taking on. A large moat appeared, stretched hundreds of metres and was equal in length to the fortress itself. But what really caught his dark eyes was the large lonely house in the middle of the park, right in front of the moat.

I have you cornered now, you little rat!