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falseroar · 4 years

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Is This Your Card? Part 3: Special Delivery

((Conversation around the table is awkward enough before a strange package arrives with envelopes addressed to everyone in the house.

Like I mentioned in the beginning, this story swaps between Abe and the District Attorney, and this time it’s the DA’s turn.

Links to Part 1 and Part 2 here.))

There seemed to be genuine surprise in Damien’s voice when he greeted you, not that you could blame him. Ever since he discovered your invitation lying out on your desk last week and your less than enthusiastic response, he had been putting the same determined effort into making sure that you came as he put into everything else in his life, and you had been just as determined not to commit one way or the other.

If the Colonel hadn’t been standing at the door, you might have been tempted to turn back around and give some excuse later, but at least when you entered together it soon became clear that this would be nothing like Mark’s usual kind of party. That kind of overstimulation, especially with the full moon only two nights ago leaving your senses sharper and more sensitive than ever, would have been too much to bear.

When Mark leaned in close at the table and said, “You’ve barely touched your food, Y/N! Is something wrong?”, it was all you could do not to wince.

“I’m not hungry. Maybe that perfume you’re wearing killed my appetite.”

You meant it as a joke, especially when you couldn’t exactly tell him why you were avoiding picking up any of the silverware (Who actually had real silver silverware these days? Most of yours could barely be considered metal.), but half a second after the words left your mouth you realized that maybe they might not be taken that way.

But Mark just smiled and threw an arm around your shoulder, nearly pulling you half out of your seat in the process. “What, you don’t like my cologne? It was a gift!”

“Did you get a receipt?” you managed to gasp out without coughing. You couldn’t place the smell exactly, but there was a heady floral overtone that seemed to cling to your nose and the back of your throat with every breath, not helped by the suspicion that Mark must have bathed in the stuff. You pushed him off as he laughed.

On your other side, the Colonel made a small noise into his plate that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, but when you glanced his way he wasn’t smiling. While Mark turned to Damien and asked him something about a recent news article, you wondered if Mark and the Colonel had shared even a single word between them since he arrived.

Then again, they weren’t the only ones avoiding a conversation. You glanced at Abe, just in time to see the monster hunter’s eyes dart back down to his plate. You hadn’t seen the man in months, not since the case you two were forced to work together.

Not since he let on that he knew.

Not to say that there hadn’t been issues in the city that might have benefited from having an experienced hunter around, but Damien was keen to prove the local authorities could handle things after the fallout from when that story leaked out to the papers.

What were you supposed to say after something like that? What could you possibly talk about that wouldn’t drift toward topics you’d rather avoid around strangers, much less Mark?

You looked down at your food and realized you really weren’t hungry.

“Best not to force it,” the Colonel said, noting your expression. “A few bites of bread to keep the nausea down, and try again later, that’s what they used to tell us back when I was a private. Of course, that was usually because we were going into battle the next morning, or had just come out of a scrap.”

“You said you fought in Europe, correct?” you asked. It was hard to be sure, as the Colonel often jumped topics midsentence and you had yet to hear the end of one of his stories. “You mentioned the Rhineland, right? Isn’t that where…”

“The outbreak started, yes.” The Colonel shrugged. “Or one of the places, but it’s hard to tell where exactly, with how fast nasty stuff tended to spread in the trenches. Guy next to you starts coughing, and you can’t tell if it’s the fever or he’s about to turn and take a bite out of you.”

The Colonel took a bite out of his steak, which was so raw that a thin line of red dripped down his chin before he caught it with his napkin.

“Of course, that changed things a bit, and suddenly it didn’t matter what uniform the other guy was wearing so long as he still had a pulse.” The Colonel smiled, and you saw the flash of a wink behind his glasses. “Not exactly the way we wanted the fighting to end, but we routed those zombies, homo necrosis, from one side of the continent to the other. Why, there was this one time, in a little town up near Naples or maybe Paris, I always get those two mixed up—”

A knock at the door followed by the gong of the doorbell interrupted the Colonel, who seemed miffed at the distraction. Not as much as Mark, who watched the butler pass through the hall with a frown before recovering. “Not sure who that could be, but Benjamin will—”

“Uh, sir?”

And Mark’s smile was gone in a surprising rush of anger as he called back, “Tell whoever is at the door to go away! If it’s important, it can wait!”

There were voices at the door, both rising higher until the door shut with more force than necessary. Any thought that would be the end of it disappeared when Benjamin stepped into the doorway of the dining room, a small package in his hands.

“Sir, this is highly irregular, but the delivery person insisted this was to be delivered to you, at this time, in the presence of everyone in the house. I feared if I did not take the package, he would force his way into the house.”

“You’re joking,” Abe said, voicing the disbelief of the others. “What delivery company was he with?”

Benjamin shrugged. “A local one that we’ve used before without issue, although he wasn’t a driver I’ve met before. He was quite insistent sir, and taking the package seemed to be the only way to get rid of him. I assure you, I will have a conversation with the owner on Monday about this behavior.”

“This all sounds ridiculously melodramatic and pointless,” Mark said. He smiled. “So let’s do it. Benjamin, get the Chef.”

“Sir?”

“You said everyone in the house, that includes him.”

“Are you sure about this, Mark?” Damien asked while the butler did as he was told, but the actor only shrugged.

“It’s probably just a joke or a stunt from one production company or another looking to get me interested in some new project. And if it’s not, well, good to have some witnesses, am I right?”

Damien seemed doubtful at that, but before he could waste any more time trying to reason with Mark, the chef entered the room with a growl.

“What, one of you got a problem with my cooking?”

His glare seemed to find you in particular with your nearly full plate, and it was all you could do not to sink down in your chair. Earlier, you had barely even looked in the direction of the kitchen and he had threatened you with a ladle until the butler stepped in and given you a chance to escape.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Mark said, gesturing toward the empty chairs. “You two take a seat and we’ll see just what this mysterious sender thought was so important for us all to be here to see.”

You heard the butler explain the situation to the chef in a low murmur as they passed by, his voice almost drowned out by Abe asking, “Speaking of mysterious senders, there a name on that thing?”

“Just mine,” Mark said, turning the label so everyone could see before picking up his steak knife and using it to cut the tape. “Hm. Just a bunch of envelopes—Oh.”

Without any explanation, he pulled a stack of envelopes out and spread them out in the center of the table for all to see before tossing the empty box aside.

There were seven in all, each bearing a single word on their otherwise blank faces: Actor, Mayor, Colonel, Hunter, Attorney, Chef, Butler.

All of you stared down at the envelopes for a minute before the chef said, “Well, I’m the only Chef around here, so I’ll be taking that.”

He grabbed the envelope, and following his lead the other six were picked up, the rasp of paper filling the otherwise silent room as everyone looked inside to see what theirs contained.

You found two cards inside your own envelope, both identical in size, but while one appeared to be a Tarot card with an elaborate picture of a hooded figure bearing a weapon, your eyes were drawn to the other card, blank except for the one word typed on it: Werewolf.

Your pulse filled your ears as the room began to swim around you, barely able to register as Damien eventually said, “What is the meaning of this?”

Mark laughed, the sound startling you enough to look up and find that he was showing his own card to the table. “Looks like I drew Death. That’s not ominous at all, is it?”

Abe, whose eyes were bright while the blood seemed to have drained from his face, croaked out the words, “Is this a threat?”

“A joke, maybe,” the Colonel said, closing his envelope with a scowl. “A really bad one.”

“Oh, come now, don’t take it so seriously,” Mark said. “Y/N, let me see—”

Your protest came too late as he pulled the envelope from your hands and took out one of the cards to examine it before showing the rest of the table.

“See, Death just like me. We all got the same card, it doesn’t mean anything.”

Damien hesitated before speaking. “That’s not the card I received.”

He showed his Tarot card, revealing a regal figure seated on a throne, the letters below proclaiming “The Emperor.”

Beside him, Abe frowned but rather than show his card asked instead, “Did anyone else get a Death card?”

He looked around the table, but the other three shook their heads, the chef muttering that he didn’t even know what a "Hierophant" was.

“That’s…not the only thing concerning about this situation,” Benjamin said, but when all eyes turned on him, he paused before clearly changing his mind about what he meant to say. “Whoever sent this…bizarre package, knew who would be here tonight. Of course, the package was meant for Master Mark, and Chef and I are hardly surprising, but I took care to ensure no one outside of this room knew about this party.”

“Like anyone can keep secrets for long in this city,” Mark said, and you were not the only one at the table to flinch. “Come now, look at these faces! This is supposed to be a party, isn’t it? Benjamin, please, grab some drinks for our guests and join us. Chef, if you would—”

The chef snorted, his chair legs scraping as he stood and walked out of the room, his envelope crushed in his grip.

“Okay, you’re busy, I can see that,” Mark said, momentarily deflated. “I think the rest us are ready to have some fun with real cards, am I right?”

He stood, the others following suit, and you tried not to sound too urgent as you said, “Mark?”

“Hm?” He followed your gaze and smiled. “Right! Could make a good souvenir for the night, if nothing else.”

He handed both the Death card and envelope back to you, which you immediately shoved into a pocket before anyone else tried to take a closer look. You weren’t the only one to keep your envelope close as you saw Abe bury his deep within his jacket and Damien neatly fold the envelope around the silhouette of his card before tucking it away, while the Colonel absentmindedly put his in a random coat pocket. Even Mark, despite his dismissal of the whole thing, put his in a pocket of his robe, not that the thing seemed to have room for something like that.

When Benjamin followed the group into another room bearing a tray of glasses, you may have downed yours a little faster than you meant to. And maybe the next one as well.

You don’t remember the exact line when you went from buzzed to roaring drunk, although from the little you could recall of the night later, you weren’t alone on the journey. Said memories blurred together in a blend of alcohol, too loud music, and laughter, as each round of poker grew more ridiculous than the last until the cards lay forgotten, the party roaming through the house in a blur of images that you still had trouble piecing together after the fact.

Why did Abe and the Colonel both bring a gun to a poker party? What could have possibly possessed them to think it was okay to start waving them around, comparing pros and cons of their models while they were so drunk they could barely stand?

Speaking of stand, who knew Damien still had it in him to do a keg stand like that?

Did you really flip off the butler?

Why?

Not that you didn’t think he probably deserved it, even if you weren’t sure of the reason, just as part of you suspected you might have partially deserved the punch from the monster hunter that sent you sprawling later.

You remembered Damien’s concerned face close to your own, his words lost under the overwhelming music and the darkness quickly swooping in, and the only thing after that was the relief of your body hitting a bed, your blurred eyes just making out the time on the clock before you gave in to sleep: 1:30 A.M.

You tried not to drink much, and especially never to let yourself get as drunk as last night, and you remembered why that was when you woke up and realized you were in the shape of a wolf.

((End of Part 3. I hope you all don’t mind the big deviation from the original WKM story with the cards. I just thought they’d add a little extra twist/mystery to the story, and it kind of grew from there.

Link to Part 4.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch ))

#markiplier #fanfiction #wkm au #werewolf au #monster hunter au #wkm district attorney #wkm detective #wkm damien #wkm mark #wkm colonel #the cards have been dealt #sleight of hand check #the party animal jokes are coming in the next chapter #or I'd make a few here

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