Welcome To The Jungle

by Michael Todd

So she was always scheduled as an extra, just in case she didn’t show up for a shift.

  Ella took a deep breath and asked the person standing at the register what she could get for them.

  She put the order into the computer and sent it back, taking the payment and offering a very fake and obviously sarcastic thank you to the woman. When the next girl stepped up Ella paused, noticing strange red rings in her eyes. At first they almost mesmerized her, but then she was slightly freaked out.

  “Welcome to Starbucks,” she said in a monotone. “May I take your order?”

  “I’ll have a Venti Chai over ice, five pumps, soy milk, with a dollop of whipped cream on top.” The girl sounded almost like a robot herself. “Not too much whipped cream; just enough to sweeten the drink a little bit,” she finished.

  Ella watched the girl talk, wondering what the hell was wrong with her.

  She shook the thought from her head and put the drink order in the computer, thankful she didn’t have to make that one. She hated it when complicated orders came in, though she almost felt like this girl might rip your throat out—literally—if the dollop of whipped cream was too big or too small.

  “I’d also like a piece of crumb cake,” she added.

  “Okaaay, that is a Venti Chai latte, iced, five pumps, soy milk, and a not too big yet not too small dollop of whipped cream,” Ella repeated slowly. “And crumb cake.”

  The girl nodded.

  “That will be eleven-nineteen,” Ella replied.

  Ella pulled the crumb cake from the shelf, sliding it into one of the wax-coated brown baggies they served all their baked goods in. She waited for the girl to complete the signature on the keypad, then handed her the cake.

  “Oh, what name do you want on this?” Ella asked.

  “Bridgett,” she answered as she walked away.

  “Okay.” Ella pursed her lips. “R-for-robot dot Bridgett it is.”

  She handed the cup to another barista and turned back to the register, more irritated than she had been before for some reason.

  She was usually the one people thought was weird, but Ella knew there were some serious freaks in her city. She didn’t know what Bridgett’s story was, but she wouldn’t want to run into her in a dark club—that was for damn sure.

  She could feel the irritation rising as she took the next order, the stereotypical white midlife-crisis mom standing at the counter wearing tennis clothes when she knew damn well she didn’t play tennis.

  She turned quickly to pass the cup, and caught a whiff of herself.

  Damn, I’m going to have to shower. What a pain in the ass!

  6

  Damian whistled. One hand was in his pocket, and his other arm was around Katie’s waist. She had done her hair and makeup, and they pranced down the block. It was all part of the plan; she had to get the robbers to think that she had no clue what was going on. As they passed in front of the cops, the loud speaker crackled and the captain’s voice came over the intercom.

  “Please halt!” he called right before they hit the doors. “Do not go into the bank! We repeat, do not go into the bank. There is an active shooter inside.” There was a pause before he turned, bullhorn still active, “Can they hear me, or are they just idiots?” he asked, and a few onlookers snickered in the crowd.

  Damian and Katie acted like they didn’t hear the police officer and walked straight into the large brick building, talking and smiling at one another.

  Katie noticed the people on the ground, but acted oblivious, as did Damian.

  She made a comment about her clothes and laughed loudly, ignoring the fact that her voice carried through the strange silence of the bank, and Damian chattered back. Katie actually found the whole thing to be amusing.

  “Hey,” one of the robbers called, but Katie and Damian ignored him. “HEY! Shut the fuck up, you two!”

  “Huh? Oh!” Katie stopped and looking around in surprise. “Oh my goodness, are we in a MOVIE?” she squealed.

  She clapped her hands and giggled excitedly.

  “No, you stupid Valley Girl,” the guy snarled, starting toward her and waving his pistol. “This is fucking real life, you dumb-assed bitch. Now get on the floor.”

  Wait, what the fuck is a Valley Girl? Pandora asked.

  It’s a really rich, really dumb girl who grows up in privilege and has no idea about life, Katie replied, looking at the hooded men with big eyes.

  Oh, HELLLL no, Pandora growled. He did not just call me a dumb-ass blonde. This dude is going to fucking get it.

  Wait for it, Katie told her. You will have your moment.

  Damian looked around like he was completely confused, swatting at one of the guys when he pushed Damian down onto one knee.

  He looked up at the main guy, who was walking quickly toward Katie. She had a look of innocence on her face that forced him to smirk. He tilted his head down to avoid being seen smiling. Katie watched the man as he approached, tilting her head to the side like a Valley Girl would.

  “Oh my Gawd, is that a gun?” she asked. She noted that Damian was trying not to laugh.

  “That’s right, dumb-ass,” the robber growled, raising the butt to hit her in the head.

  “Oh no, Mr. Robber, please don’t,” she called as he cocked his hand back.

  He was shocked when her arm darted up to catch the gun as he swung downward.

  She has a snarl on her lips and the ring in her eyes flashed red as she lifted her head and looked the guy right in the eyes. His grimace smoothed and he looked at her strangely when he felt the strength in her arm as she pushed his hand back.

  “Now, that wasn’t very nice,” she hissed, shaking her head. The last word came out in a deep growl.

  Katie grabbed the guy by his throat and lifted him into the air.

  His feet were dangling, and he kicked as his hands grabbed hers, trying to unlock her grip.

  Her eyes were completely red as she stared up at him.

  “You,” he wheezed, “are a crazy bitch!” His eyes bugged out in terror as Pandora laughed wildly inside Katie. She threw him hard, and he slammed into the wall and fell in a heap to the floor.

  She turned and found Damian fighting one of the other robbers, punching him right in the face. She smiled and looked at a third perp, who had raised his gun to shoot Damian and was waiting for an opening. She threw one of the knives from her belt, and the blade turned end over end before sinking deep into his bicep. He screamed in pain, dropping the gun to the floor and grabbing his arm as he knelt.

  She looked back just as Damian kicked the robber’s feet out from under him, sending him spiraling to the floor. He grabbed a metal divider post from beside the wooden island in the middle of the bank floor and swung it over his head, hitting the guy hard and obliterating his consciousness.

  Breathing heavily, he dropped the pole and walked over to the one who was writhing over the knife in his arm. Katie walked over too and looked at Damian.

  “Hold on just one second,” she said, reaching down and yanking the knife out.

  “FUUCK!” the robber screamed and brought his arm to his chest, almost crying. “You stupid fucking bitch!”

  “It’s not very nice to talk about a man’s wife in that manner,” Damian told him in a conversational tone before turning to Katie. “Honey, would you like to do the honors?”

  “Oh, please, be my guest.” She smirked.

  Damian cold-cocked the guy, watching as his eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled to the ground. Quickly they pulled the three perps into a pile in the middle of the floor. Katie raised her dress to reveal her tactical belt, pants, and walkie-talkie as Damian used a belt to slow the perp’s bleeding.

  “Be advised, all three suspects are down,” Katie said into the walkie-talkie. “We will be sending the hostages out.”

  Katie pointed to Damian, to the hostages, and to the door, then ran over and got people to their feet.

  Quickly she ushered them toward the entrance, looking out into the s
treet before opening the doors and sending them out one by one. The police ran forward, accepting the hostages and pulling them to safety.

  “We are making sure they are safe,” the captain said. “Good work in there, you two.”

  Katie smiled at Damian and tossed him the walkie-talkie, then ran to the back to see if she could find the downed cop. She found him back near the vault, leaning against a wall with a t-shirt wrapped tightly around his arm. He had lost a lot of blood, but the wound didn’t look life-threatening.

  “Who are you?” he moaned.

  She leaned closer, so she could speak without the civilians overhearing. “Part of the D Squad.”

  “Holy shit,” he whispered back, staring at her. “Why? This wasn’t demon-related.”

  “Just in the right place at the right time, I suppose.” She smiled.

  There were two people taking care of him. She nodded, and they leaned down and helped him to his feet. Slowly they walked him forward, stopping in front of Katie when he did.

  “Thank you,” he told her earnestly. “You saved a lot of people’s lives.”

  Katie just smiled. She waited until he had disappeared through the door to nod. She felt good about helping those people; about getting them to safety.

  He was hot, Pandora offered. Even with a hole in his arm.

  Not now. Katie turned back.

  Katie walked back to Damian, who nodded toward the back door. There was no reason to go back out there and talk to the cops. They had finished their job. Katie went out first, almost skipping again, and Damian laughed as he followed her.

  I think I deserve some donuts, Pandora announced.

  I thought you gave donuts up? Katie asked.

  I did, for two whole horribly insane days, she griped in exasperation. I deserve an extra box for self-control beyond normal expectations.

  All right. Katie chuckled. I’ve got just the place.

  Katie took Damian and her pain-in-the-ass roomie to Kettle Glazed Donuts, one of the most varietal donut shops in the city.

  She had looked up donut shops before coming to LA, since being prepared was half the battle with Pandora.

  As soon as they walked into the glass-fronted shop with the little red stools at the window-side counter, Pandora lost her fucking mind. In the display cases were towers of handmade perfection, dripping with every topping you could imagine.

  She was in donut heaven.

  You can’t fight it! Pandora sniffed wildly, using Katie’s nose. You shouldn’t fight it. Please don’t fight it, and I’ll be your friend forever.

  I am getting you one dozen, and that’s it, Katie told her firmly.

  You already got your mad out, and I had nothing to do with you beating the shit out of that robber, Pandora grumbled as she looked at the choices, trying to figure out how to limit the list to just twelve.

  You are a bitch! A stone-cold bitch.

  “Hey, Bridgett.” Melvin nodded. He noticed her sunglasses as he walked up to the table. “How’s it going?”

  “Hey.” She forced a smile. “It’s going good. Please sit down. Thanks for meeting me here on such short notice.”

  “It’s no problem. What’s up?” He slid into a chair at her table.

  Melvin Ransom was the team heavy for the Wyld Jokers, a group of ruthless killers hell-bent on ridding New York City of demons.

  Melvin had a special-ops background and a lust for killing those who shouldn’t exist. He was a pusher; a guy who wanted to be top of the pack, but knew exactly what he was best at.

  He killed them, but politics—they just weren’t his thing. He didn’t know why this chick he had barely said two words to would want to talk to him, but he’d figured, why not? What was the worst that could come of it?

  “I’ll cut right to the chase.” She lowered her voice and looked around. “We both know you are in the demon business. That’s no secret to me.”

  “It’s not?” He chuckled.

  “I know someone who wants to help move things along for you,” she continued. “In exchange for providing me with information, I can give you information on attacks; ones you may otherwise have no idea are coming.”

  He sat back in his chair, looking as if he was thinking things over. Bridgett removed her glasses, dropping them in her bag, and fixed her hair. She quickly looked up and to the side, letting Melvin see her red-ringed eyes. He breathed deeply, now understanding what was going on.

  “All right.” He looked around before returning his gaze to her and nodding. “But we can’t talk about this here. Meet me in the alley in ten minutes.”

  He glanced toward the door. “You leave that way. I’ll meet you around back.”

  She smiled and stood up, walking nonchalantly out the door with her coffee in hand. He sat there for a few minutes mulling over her offer, sipping his coffee and watching the other patrons.

  After sitting there for a little while, he got up and walked past the bathrooms and straight out the back door, making a mental note where the security camera was. Bridgett smiled as he approached, excited for once to be part of the action. She had waited a long time for this chance. He walked very close to her and leaned in.

  “You see, Bridgett, there are only three options,” he whispered, like a lover might. “Dead, research, or on a team.” He grabbed her quickly by the neck. “At least for those who have tamed demons inside.”

  Bridgett’s eyes went wide and she grabbed his hand, clawing like crazy to get free. The demon inside her roared in anger and forced her to fight back.

  She brought her legs up, jamming them hard into his groin to make him let her go. She landed in a crouch, growling, her eyes now completely red and her expression wild. She ran forward to swipe at his chest; her hands now had small claws. He jumped back, chuckling as she attacked, and whistled at the power in her.

  “Wow,” he taunted. “You must have a hell of demon inside you, sweetheart. Let’s see if we can’t get you some help.”

  “I don’t want your help,” she hissed. “I want your head!”

  She ran forward with her claws out, slashing through the air. He put his hands up and she grabbed his gun from his holster. His eyes went turned as she backed up, pointing the weapon at his chest. She clicked off the safety and smiled maniacally, ready to do her demon’s bidding.

  “You know,” Melvin began, shaking his finger and moving carefully to his right, “I thought there was something weird about you calling me. You see, I don’t have any close friends in this city since my line of work makes it a little bit difficult, but I thought to myself, Melvin, how many times does a pretty girl you’ve run into a couple of times at the library call you out of the blue and ask you out for coffee? The answer, if you’re wondering, is not that often, so I came. I have to say, you definitely surprised me. I did not peg you for a drooling nasty soul-sucking-demon-ridden hag, that’s for sure. But then again, you wouldn’t be the first one I dated. Women in general tend to carry the gene, I think.”

  “Shut up,” she growled, circling around him.

  Just then, a girl wearing a Starbuck’s apron and ripped black jeans, with wildly colored hair and heavy makeup, came out the back door carrying the trash.

  She didn’t immediately see them, since she was watching where she was going. She was bitching up a storm, and it distracted Bridgett enough to make her turn toward the girl.

  Melvin leapt into action. He jumped behind her and grabbed her chin and the back of her head and twisted, quickly snapping her neck.

  He had wanted to help her, but he could see that her demon had latched on hard and she was liable to shoot the girl who had come out of the building.

  The girl gasped and froze, unsure what she had just witnessed.

  Ivy, the demon inside Bridgett, panicked, finding himself being dragged down with the soul of the girl who had just died.

  “FUCKING HELL!” He hated rash actions, but he quickly jumped out of her body, not at all prepared to be in the real world. He raced over to the
only uninfected body he could find and dove down Ella’s throat.

  Melvin watched wide-eyed as Starbucks Girl stiffened and dropped the bags of trash, her eyes flashing red before they rolled back in her head.

  He lunged forward, catching her as she fainted and fell from the stairs. He sadly held her in his arms, knowing she had just been infected.

  Dammit! It was not his day in any way, shape, or form.

  “Fucking hell,” he growled, pulling his phone from his pocket.

  He called his supervisor Isaac, since the team lead was visiting one of the other compounds. He was pissed—beyond pissed—that the demons had lowered themselves to that level. Two girls, young and attractive—their lives ripped away because of one asshole demon.

  Isaac chuckled as he answered. “Melvin, how is that coffee date going?”

  “Uh, well, she’s dead,” he answered. “So I’d have to say it’s been pretty shitty. Listen, I need backup to come for the bodies. She was a demon and she wanted me to spy on the teams, so naturally I told her to go to hell…and then I sent her there.”

  “You said ‘bodies,’ plural,” Isaac asked, calling out commands in the background.

  “Yeah, the demon jumped into another girl before it could be pulled back to hell,” he told Isaac. “She’s passed-out in my arms, and let me tell you right now…” he stared down at her wild makeup and crazily-colored hair, “she looks like a wild one.”

  Isaac sighed. “Well then, she’ll fit in just fine with us.”

  7

  “He is dead, sir,” the servant said.

  “Dead?” T’Chezz said whipping around. “What do you mean? He was the best we had. Well, the only one we fucking had, and you are telling me he couldn’t survive a month on Earth? For fuck’s sake! Are we sure he’s dead?”

  “Yes, master,” he said, bowing his head in fear. “I went up to check on him after Zallot returned, as you asked me to do, and I saw the demon’s dead human body being loaded into an SUV. It was one of the killers, but not your sister’s team this time; another one in a different city. I left my host’s body and came straight back to report to you.”