Layer upon layer, darkness upon darkness, the wet stench of sweat, mixed with the raw smell of black oil covered the entire area around the steel company. There were barely any street lamps around the area as the owner and person in charge of the company saw no need for it.
"Times have changed, a little light to help navigate the area wouldn't have hurt his pockets much." A steward driving a carriage commented as his horses slowly made their way to the gates of the steel company under the damp moonlight after observing the area.
"A miser is what he is." A raspy voice conveyed when the carriage came to a stop.
The man that said this tipped his derby hat and spat out the window, onto the side of the road. He adjusted his coat and walked out the carriage, towards the entrance of the steel company.
'Kenneth's Steel.'
He read the boldly written words that were engraved on the copper-like gates.
Behind this man came another that was dressed the same way, dark coats that enveloped most of their figure, stopping a few inches away from their ankles and blending into the darkness of the night. They both wore derby hats.
"It is better for us like this. Our work is better suited under the mysteries of the night." The second man said. "Besides, Sir Kenneth wouldn't take lightly the comments the two of you made about his choice of spending." He added in a neutral tone.
"And how is he to know of our conversation if no one here informs him of it?" The man with the raspy voice replied, glaring at the person who came out of the carriage after him.
"Fair enough… Did you bring the artifact with you?"
"Are you asking me if I know how to do my job?" The raspy-voiced man responded.
"Now, do bear with me, Mr. Harlow, but the responsibility of this task is solely upon my shoulders, the Bishop will have my head if we fail to get actionable leads to this whole mess that needs to be dealt with."
"I suppose," Harlow responded.
Without wasting much time, he pushed at the copper gates and entered into the steel factory.
"You should stick with him Sir Gerry, Mr. Harlow isn't particularly famous for his people skills. He might do something that will bring about Sir Kenneth's wrath." The steward advised with a little smirk on his face.
"It might be dark right now, but I can imagine what your face looks like at the moment… seal off the surroundings, call for the cleaners, and kill anyone that comes out before us," Gerry commanded before walking into the steel factory, walking as fast as he could to catch up to the supposed calm and ruthless Mr. Harlow.
Ding!!
Ding!!
"Raise the heat lads!"
"Stay clear! Stay clear! Hot lava incoming!"
The energetic voices of steel millers in the factory echoed from the depths of the steel factory, despite how late it was in the night, they were energetic and seemed to be performing their duties efficiently. Some had adequate protective gear against the many harmful things that could occur in the factory, while some were bare, with flimsy clothes to just cover their nakedness.
The smell of hot burning coal, mixed with the pungent smell of unknown chemicals reached the nostrils of Gerry and Harlow, causing them to recoil a bit, stopping them in their tracks. The two of them could understand why some of the millers only wore flimsy clothing in the factory when they felt the heat of the place whip at their skins.
Harlow felt the urge to spit out again, but that would just invite some trouble his way. Not that he was afraid of that, he would well enough accept anyone in this factory who wanted to have a go at him, but now wasn't the time for him to relish in his sadistic desires.
Gerry and Harlow stood out in the factory due to their attire. The steel millers from 3 floors above, on a sky bridge, looked down at them, whispering amongst themselves. Some of them paused what they were doing to have a look at the unusual guests, while many others couldn't afford to do so lest they invite an injury their way.
"Big boss did say that some private investigators were coming to have a look around the factory some days ago." A young, topless steel miller informed one of the younger men on the second floor as they stared down at Gerry and Harlow.
"But wouldn't this affect our output… are you sure that the big boss allowed this to happen? Wouldn't it be bad for his pockets if we slack off for a night?" A steel worker questioned.
"Apparently, Sir Kenneth ordered this… it's bad for his name and business if more people continue to drop like flies around his property. He probably doesn't want his customers to think that he's in cahoots with the devil worshipers." The young steel miller answered.
"Really? They're still going on about the uncanny deaths that have been happening around the factory over the past few weeks? I been told you lots that it was the handiwork of the devil worshippers, what's there to investigate?" The older steel miller who had been eavesdropping on the conversation asked disgruntledly at the presence of Gerry and Harlow in the steel factory.
He felt as if they were invading their holy land and soiling it with their ignorance...
"Massey, if this isn't solved it could be one of us that gets killed next." The young steel miller uttered, wide-eyed as he stared at the uncaring Massey.
"You youngsters and your fear of death. If you are that scared of dying, why come work in a damned steel factory!? People die every other month here. It's been this way for years, today from overworking and tomorrow from being crushed by heavy machinery." Massey muttered.
"If you ain't scared of death why don't you jump into the oven and have a go at it will ya." Another older steel miller chipped in as he sneered at Massey's attitude towards the issue.
"I ain't scared of dying you prick, I'm scared of how I die. Why will I torture myself if I'm gonna die anyway? Why don't I just end it quickly and swiftly? You Nosey fuck." Massey cursed at this older steel miller.
"Oi, Where the hell is Brisker, Sadmin, and Matthew!? I asked to see them tonight!" Massey Bellowed out in annoyance.
"Massey, they part of the people on the roster to be interrogated tonight, didn't you read the notice?" the young miller questioned.
"Ah bollocks, those private investigators are going to mess with my damned quota!"…
…
Theodore leaned his 6'0 frame back on the metal chair balancing his weight on the edge of its back legs, inching himself further and further back, his hazel eyes reflecting the flickering dull glow from the bulb above.
His brown hair and loose curls that seemed to defy gravity as they hung above and his oval face, bounced as he moved his head. His olive skin gleamed in the light as a bead of sweat formed on his forehead. His clothes were wet and sticky from all the sweat, he had been working all evening, slaving away like he always did but today was different.
The usual chaos of the steel factory had slowed to a steady hum, and many of the workers had to stop what they were doing. In several files, they were led in and out of different rooms, similar to the one he was held in right now.
Theodore always thought the machines felt alive at night, electricity pulsing through them just as it did humans, he preferred the machines though they were just like him, slaves to their fate, impossible to break away from the function they were created for, their parts won't let them.
His parts won't let him either.
He brought his wrist to his face.
"11:30" He muttered under his breath.
'Lilly would have my head if I'm late again,' He thought.
Theodore looked around him, the room he was in felt smaller than it usually was. it was one of the few changing rooms they had in the factory.
Working at a steel factory wasn't Theodore's first choice, he had dreams once, a different life, many lives even, but somehow, as if being taunted by fate, he always found himself in all sorts of dicey situations. He truly believed that tragedy followed him - no, he knew it was wrapped around him like his flesh was wrapped around his bones.
One.
Inescapable.
And here he was about to be interrogated because multiple people were dead.
'A tragedy.' Theodore said to himself.
"I didn't think it would take this long," He thought to himself, "Well, here we go." He added, almost accepting that what was to come was going to be long, and he had zero control over it.
Theodore had a mindset that could be described as a mind that was always in a state of defeat, he didn't interpret this negatively, it had just always been that way. He was very accepting of his circumstances no matter what it was
It's his greatest strength, or so he likes to think.
…