The Apartment's Landlord

"It was a landline!"

"It was an alarm!"

"It just rang. Didn't you have these at home?"

"Yes, at home and the labs. We had alarms everywhere!"

"No! It's a phone. A regular phone, and it just rang."

He blinked at her like that was worse. "Same thing. They're tracking us."

Rose marched toward the debris and held up a piece of fried wiring. "This was probably our only connection to the front desk!"

"I don't like when things scream at me from walls," Dorian muttered, conjuring another thorn into his hand, flipping it once like it was a pen.

"I told you we're safe here. You need to stop throwing weapons at furniture."

"Phones aren't furniture."

"How… how can you even still use that ability this well…" she managed to say. "You just got these abilities today."

Dorian shrugged, "I practiced with the knives during training, and it only takes using my head."

Rose clenched her fists. "Remind me...how old are you?"

"Seventeen…?" Dorian raised a brow. "I'm two years younger than you."

"Good, now I'm going to need you to start acting your age. Like a normal kid, not a lab rat. You aren't that anymore, Do you understand?"

She said as she walked toward the storeroom to look for another phone, when he just scoffed. She snapped her head at him, "And what was that for?"

"You don't expect someone like me to act like every other kid, Rose. Everything for me is dangerous, and you should know that."

She sighed and turned to him. "Not out here. The last thing that would be considered dangerous is a phone in an old house." Her gaze softened. "You're going to eventually step out alone, so I need you to drop your guard, at least half of it, and observe more. Until you're actually in danger."

Dorian looked at her for a while. He recognized the look she gave him, she always had it on her face when trying to explain things.

He placed it between pity and care, knowing Orse, it could be both, or more of care.

For a moment he wanted to apologise for being stubborn, but instead he just turned away and picked up his cleaning tools.

"Alright. But the next loud noise I hear, I will not hesitate to—"

Bang.

A deep, hollow thud hit the door like someone slammed their shoulder into it, and it echoed through the apartment.

Both of them froze.

Dorian's head snapped to the entrance, his pupils shrank. Rose stepped back cautiously, eyes flicking toward the hallway where her bag lay.

Before she could say anything, Dorian was already walking forward.

"Dorian, wait—"

It was too late, he was already moving, his right hand behind his back with a thorn growing to the length of his arm.

He kept his breathing steady, a dead calm look in his eyes.

'What normal person bangs on a door like a beast?' was what went through Dorian's mind as he matched to the door.

He yanked the it open, hoping to see someone at least his height, but standing there was a man about six-foot-seven.

Tall, broad shoulders, and he smelled like dried leaves and wine. He had a mean look on his face, tanned skin, and gray hair.

His left eye had a scar slashing through it, he didn't flinch at the boy who stared at him like he had stolen something precious.

He just raised one brow and lifted the bottle in his hand slightly, pointing at Dorian, and Dorian responded by pointing the crimson pointy stick at him.

"…Kid," he said, his deep voice ringing in Dorian's ears loud enough to make him frown. "This how you answer doors now?"

Dorian didn't respond, he tilted his head slightly, calculating the best angle to pierce through the ribcage.

The man sniffed, "Are you always that twitchy, or is that new?"

"I don't like strangers," Dorian said, not lowering the thorn. "State your business or walk away."

The man frowned. "I wouldn't bother too much because you're just a kid. Go get the adult, and also, I'd advise you to get yourself cleaned up."

He took a sip from the bottle, completely unconcerned. "And quit looking at me like that. I wouldn't want to be more pissed off at your attitude, boy."

A smirk crawled up Dorian's lips. "Good, that makes two of us. Now walk away like you saw nothing and don't look back."

The man's eyes narrowed, then he let out a tired sigh, "God, even my girls are better behaved. Look, where is your mother?"

"Leave...Now."

"I'm going to tell you for the last time, get the adult here, or I'm going to have to punish you myself for your bad attitude."

"What makes you think you can?" Dorian asked, eyeing the man up and down with disgust. "I don't see you with weapons, and....you look like a normal human to me." He smiled. "...Bring it on."

Rose, who had been inside watching from the corner, wanted to stop Dorian. But with how the man looked, and his demeanor, she knew it would only cause problems if she stepped out.

It would either distract Dorian, leaving an opening for the man… or if her assumptions were correct, then her stepping out would alert his other loan shark friends.

The man still didn't move. Neither was he impressed or the least bit intimidated by Dorian. He just exhaled loudly.

"I own this place. Now would you please stop your bullshit and get me your parent?"

Dorian scoffed. "Lies. If you did own this place, then you'd have been here, and the place would be clean too." He pointed the thorn close to the man's neck. "I'll ask for the last time, who are you, and state your business."

"I am Mister Halver," the man said, taking another sip from the bottle as he leaned close. "Tell your parents that, and limit your games to your friends, unless you want it to get you killed."

"That's it—"

"Dorian!" Rose called from inside, sounding relieved. She finally came out from where she'd been hiding.

"It's fine! He owns the building," she said quickly, placing her hand on his shoulder. Then she smiled awkwardly at the man. "I'm sorry, he's just been a little jumpy since we returned."

Mr. Halver nodded, agreeing with what she said.

From his perspective, he probably thought Dorian was just playing with sharp objects.

However, something in the way the Dorian moved, the way he looked too calculated, calm, told him otherwise, but he chose to let it slide.

Dorian didn't lower the thorn, but he did step back.

The man glanced at the weapon again, then down at Dorian's feet, then back up to her.

"You get any strange sounds in the walls yet?" he asked, almost casually, "It started this morning and the others have been complaining it was from here."

Rose frowned. "What?"

"Any knocks, any scratches... cold spots?"

Before she could answer, a faint groan came from deep within the pipes near the wall beside Dorian. Like metal bending under pressure, or something pushing against it.

The sound stretched out, low and guttural.

Mr. Halver didn't even look surprised.

"Yup," he muttered, mostly to himself. "It's starting again."