Kitten... So Powerful Ch. 02

*AN: This chapter is just a filler. If you aren't interested in the building of the plot of the story, skip to the end where I have included a brief summary.*

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Standing in the hallway with pain stricken shock and betrayal inside and a bundle of wrinkled suit in his arms, Alaster was in a panic. Before long, someone would come running to Lucius' office with news or some other conflict of immediate importance; if they saw Alaster in this moment of such weakness, such vulnerability-

"I have to go," Alaster muttered to himself; "Someone could see me."

Without thinking about it, he yanked the slacks on. Bundling all his other layers into the jacket, he buttoned it up then threw his coat on top, zipping it to the collar and throwing up the hood. Ducking his head, Alaster hurried out of the hallway, hands folded across his torso to hold his clothes in the tight bundle against his chest.

"Sir?" A familiar voice called out to Alaster's retreating back. "Sir!!"

He didn't want to stop, but Alaster didn't need to give Lucius any more reason to "punish" him. Lucius turned, but did not look up, crushing the ball of clothes even tighter against his chest.

"What do you need Jared?" The words came out harsher than he intended, and the short man flinched.

"I just wanted to let you know that the sun is setting in half an hour," Jared told him, fidgeting under Alaster's angry gaze. "Um... A few of us were going to head over to the Harpy for drinks later, you want to come?"

"Oh, uh-" Alaster's left hand had started spasming randomly, and the nervous energy pent up inside him threatened to make him explode. He shoved the beserk hand into a pocket. "I don't know, the boss is getting real tight in the pants and a horny boss is not a happy one. I think that's all he used Mel for, and now she's gone he's not used to hunting for a fuck. Ah... He's um... Confused right now."

Jared nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, it's a shame. Hope you'll come out tonight, a lot of people are looking to you right now."

Alaster nodded curtly, then hurried away. He almost dropped the bundle of clothes in his arms tripping on the loose floorboard halfway to his quarters, a wave of panic crashed over him when his boxers fell from his arms and hit the floor. He snatched them up and scuttled the rest of the way, ignoring the yells of "Sir!" and "Hey!" as he ran.

Slamming the door of his room behind him, Alaster collapsed, nearly shrieking in pain when his ass hit the wooden floorboards. He jumped up and dashed into the bathroom, grateful that his quarters were among the few with a private bath. He undid the button of his slacks, ripping open the zipper and letting the pants fall to the floor.

The sudden exposure helped cool the screaming pain in his ass, and Alaster shed his clothes faster than he could shoot. In one stride, Alaster stepped into the shower and turned the faucet on. Lukewarm water spilled from the shower head, cascading over his shoulders and down his back. He felt the gentle fingers of the water caressing his sore skin and breathed deeply. He stayed under the moist comfort of the shower for a long time.

When Alaster left the steam and the gentle warmth of the shower behind, he stretched out on his bed and propped his head up on his hands, staring at the blank wall of his room. Alaster almost wanted to look around the place he had called home for last six years, but already knew what it looked like.

The walls would be blank white with clear tape ready for another paint job at any time. The floor would be shiny, pristine wood planks covered. The furniture would all be plain finished wood. The bathroom door would be open to show the shiny tiles of the bathroom floor, the immaculate sink wiped clear or water or soap residue, the neatly arranged bottles and cans of hair gel, shaving cream, the impersonal soap pump, a box of tissues, and a single medicine cabinet. The tiny window of the cabinet would show tiny bottles of over the counter aspirin, cold and flu medications, and laying on the tiny ledge protruding from the cabinet, his toothbrush would be drying beside the half-empty tube of toothpaste.

If he were to open the closet there would be fourteen plain white dress shirts on plain white hangers, fourteen plain black pairs of slacks, and fourteen plain black suit jackets. Beside the jackets there would be a tie hanger with five ties: two black, one red, one green, and one blue. There would also be two vertical hanging organizers to form a neat rectangle of twelve cubes two across and six down. An assortment of bow ties, undershirts, boxers, briefs, and socks sat in neatly folded columns one cube of white, one of black, and two separate rows for short or long socks.

On one of the two chairs sitting meant to accompany a tiny table for two would be situated at the foot of the bed, today's clothes thrown on top in a messy heap, waiting for Alaster to get up and drape them neatly over the back of the chair like he usually did. The other chair would be in the farthest corner of the closet, a blood stained cardboard box filled with pliers, power tools, and chains sitting on top.

The room was impersonal, immaculate, businesslike. In the two decades he had stayed in the room, Alaster hadn't done much to change it. The sheets had been changed from plain sterile white to a pleasant cream, but otherwise the room was exactly the way it had been the day Alaster moved in. There were no pictures of girls on the walls, no plants, no posters, no trophies.

Alaster went to the chair and pulled on his clothes, layer by layer. When the fitted jacket of his suit was buttoned, he went to the bathroom and combed his hair, squirting gel into his palm and slicking back the disobedient strands. Straightening his collar and adjusting his tie, Alaster stared into his own eyes. The reflection stared back at him, cold blue eyes pierced through the mirror. My eyes look so dead. He thought, turning his head side to side. How can anyone believe I mourn? After a few moments, Alaster turned and walked through the door.

Pulling his phone out of the interior pocket of his jacket, Alaster strode through the huge building known only as "Base" or "the Nest." He heard the line on the other end pick up.

"Nemo here."

"Rapunzel speaking," he replied.

"Copy."

"Kiana, can I... catch a ride?"

"Rapunzel's wedding cake?"

"Nemo's carrot tops. Look, it's me. I'm just running late, so meet me out back in three minutes." Alaster hit the end button and jammed the phone back in his pocket. He walked briskly to the back exit and slammed the door shut. When a hand shot out and grabbed his arm, he jerked away, pulling his gun and aiming it at the girl in front of him.

"Woah, Princess, calm your tits."

"Don't call me that! And I don't have tits!" Alaster holstered the weapon and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Al, chill-"

"Don't call me Al either! Just drive, Kiana!"

Kiana got in the driver's side of the car and started the engine as Alaster climbed in the passenger side and slammed the door. The drive out to the funeral pyre was a awkwardly silent. As the car rolled to a stop, Alaster dove for the door, but the lock clicked shut.

"Hey-"

"What's wrong, Alaster?" Kiana grabbed his arm and stared at him. "You're running late, you asked for a ride, your shirt is not tucked in properly, your hair's a mess-"

"Leave me alone, K, I don't need you on my back too. Lucius is already all over me and he's horny as hell. I'll need a ride back, so wait for me here." He jerked the lock open and leapt out of the car, stalking away before Kiana could walk beside him. Running a hand through his hair, Alaster took a few deep breaths before walking toward the casket on its bonfire throne.

The casket was open, the smell of kerosene rubbing Alaster's nerves raw. He stared into Melanie's eyes for a long time, then accepted the match in Jared's hand. He turned to the crowd for a few long moments before looking back at the beautiful woman lying in the coffin.

"All honour to you, Melanie. We've always loved you, and we always will."

Then he struck the match and dropped the tiny flame into the bouquet of flowers clasped in her hands. The flowers shriveled and died in an instant, the flames jumping to the cushions of the coffin doused in accelerant. Orange tongues of flame licked her face like eager puppies, kissing her cheeks with burning caresses. Alaster backed up and stood with the rest of the crowd as the coffin burst into a flaming inferno, lighting the wooden platform laden with gifts and flowers.

As the bonfire burned, it's red-orange hues mixing with the tint of the setting sun, Alaster closed his eyes for a long moment. Bowing his head, Alaster turned and walked toward the faint silhouette of Kiana's car.

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*AN: Summary (see beginning)*

Alaster is an incredibly meticulous person, and he's acting kind of funny. New characters: Jared and Kiana. Alaster goes to the funeral and burns Melanie's body on an altar with gits etc.