The chairman always said:
The only thing more terrifying than a monster is a man desperate enough to become one.
Liam raised his hand to glance at his watch. His twenty-minute break was over. It was back to that hellish cubicle for another four hours of agonizing work.
Unless...
The door to the roof swung open, and as it did, the wind carried the smell of blood until the metallic stench hit his nostrils.
He turned to see Alvin standing at the door—a long utility knife in one hand and a pistol in the other. The knife's blade, just like Alvin's clothes, was soaked in blood.
Liam stared at him before muttering, "I'm guessing they're all dead."
Alvin took a step forward, his face smeared in blood. "Yes, and you're next."
"Really? I couldn't have guessed." Liam's sarcasm cut through the deadly tension.
"Do you think this is a joke?" Alvin stepped closer, his knife raised just slightly higher.
"No, I'm certain it's not."
"Then why aren't you—" Alvin began.
"Scared?" Liam finished. "Well, I'm too drugged up on ketamine to feel fear… or much of anything, really. Do you know what that's like? To not feel anything?"
Liam sighed, glancing back toward the skyline of other high-rise buildings before speaking again.
"What the chairman didn't know is you're the monster… you've always been the monster… while I'm the man… and I'll tell you now, I am more than desperate enough." He turned back, eyes locked on Alvin's. "So I'm grateful you'll stop me here, before I become something we'd all regret."
Alvin raised the gun, pointing it straight at Liam as his words came low, almost inaudible in the wind. "You're wrong, I wasn't always the—"
"No," Liam interrupted. "You aren't the one dying. You don't get to share your feelings. So spare me the monologue, and pull the fucking trigger, mate."
Alvin obliged.
Bang.
"And cut!" The director yelled, standing from his chair behind the set. "Fourteen takes later, I think we've got it… that'll be a wrap for today, guys."
His megaphone-amplified words echoed through the low-budget set as everyone began their preparations to leave.
Liam was the first to meet him.
The director looked up from the script he was reading as Liam reached his chair. "Hey, boy, great work. You're really getting into the role now. Keep this up and you'll be big in no time," the rough-bearded director complimented as he patted Liam on his shoulder.
"Yeah… yeah," Liam nodded, his eyes droopy from exhaustion or something else. "Uh, do you think it's possible I get that payment today?"
Liam could see the director's immediate and visible eye roll that screamed, This again?
"I know… I know what you said last time," Liam began.
"Do you really?" the director cut him off. "This is a small project I decided to take on knowing it will get no profit. Everyone here are students of the theater. When you asked me for a chance, I told you that everyone working on this was strictly doing so for exposure and experience… payment was not guaranteed."
"Yeah, but I can't eat fucking experience, can I?" Liam snapped, then swiftly realized his outburst. "I'm sorry, James, it's just… I gotta eat, man, and pay rent… I can't keep racking up experience while I'm near homeless."
The director stared at Liam for a while, then let out a sigh.
"You'll get a wire before the day's end…"
Liam's face lit up immediately as the words left James's mouth.
"But after this," the director continued, "I don't wanna hear anything about payment till we wrap up filming, alright?"
"Yes, thank you, man… you have my word—no payment talk, just great acting," Liam promised.
"Good, now get outta here."
Liam nodded gratefully before turning to leave.
---
Liam pushed open the door to the pub. The smell of beer and disappointment hit him like a boxer's jab—a punch he oddly begun to find soothing.
He strolled to the bar, taking his usual seat before calling for the familiar bartender.
A youthful girl with blonde hair loosely packed and exhaustion painted on her face strolled toward him with a smile.
"You're in here today again? That's a surprise." The girl's sarcasm dripped from the edges of her grin.
"Save your tease, Camy. Today's a good day, this is celebratory drinking," Liam defended.
"Whatever you say, Tom Cruise. So what'll it be today?" Camy asked.
"The usual—whiskey, sour…"
"…no ice," Camy completed. "Yeah, but I can't keep giving you free drinks and putting it on a tab you're never gonna pay."
Liam swiftly shook his head, disagreeing. "I'm gonna pay it, Camy, tomorrow even… I got something coming."
She sighed. "Alright, but if you don't… then no more drinks, got it?"
Liam nodded. "Yeah… I got it."
She turned as she went to prepare his order, while Liam pulled out a pack of cigarettes, bending open the cover and staring at the sticks the way a longing lover might stare at a partner's picture.
He didn't take one—only stared. He knew better.
Nicotine was the desperate relief he needed from the stress that came with being a struggling college dropout whose acting career was seemingly going nowhere.
However, when the nicotine subsided and its effects dwindled, the man he was left to face in the mirror was always worse than the one he had been prior.
So he hadn't smoked in months.
He sighed and stashed the pack back into his pocket, knowing it might only be a matter of time before he gave in.
Not long after, Camy was back with a glass of his order. He nodded a thanks as she returned to attend to another patron.
Liam might have given up nicotine; however, most of the time he was anything but sober. Sober was painful.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out two pill containers, twisting open the caps and pouring out one pill from each onto his hand.
He tossed both into his mouth before downing them with the whiskey and letting out a hot exhale.
This was how Liam got through each day—on antidepressant pills and alcohol. Without this combination, he wouldn't know what to do.
"I need to get my fucking life together, man," Liam muttered.
And that's when it happened.
"Everyone put your fucking hands up! Don't do anything stupid!"
Two masked men barged into the bar, guns in hand as they swung them around with the aggressiveness of men who didn't hold them often.
"Put your fucking hands up, we're not playing!" they shouted again as terrified mumbling echoed across the bar, the patrons doing as they were told.
Liam turned to look at the robbers before, with an exhausted motion, raising his hand up as well.
"We don't want to hurt anyone. Just put all valuables in the bag—phones, watches, jewelry, cash, and credit cards. Once we have everything, we'll be outta here and no one will be harmed."
Liam watched as they went from person to person, collecting anything of value, and it was somewhere in between that task the antidepressants kicked in.
"Fuck it," Liam exhaled, reaching into his pocket for what could be his last smoke.
He opened the pack and put a stick to his lips before snapping his fingers at one of the robbers to get his attention.
"Hey, fuckface… you got a lighter?"
The robbers turned, faces equal parts shock and confusion, staring at him.
"You speak English, mate? I need a light," Liam asked again, pulling out the cig from his lips.
One of the robbers raised his gun and pointed it at Liam, who just stared at it without flinching.
"Are you dumb?" the robber asked, approaching him. "Matter of fact, what do you got? Pull all your shit out now."
"What do I got?" Liam raised a brow. "I got rent that's two months past due, I got bills that've been unpaid since I can remember, and I got an alcohol and prescription addiction… but if you mean something of value, then no sir, you're asking the wrong guy."
"You think I'm joking?" The robber waved the gun again.
"Woah," Liam raised both hands. "Anyone else got some crazy déjà vu? It's like this whole thing has happened before."
"Stop playing around and drop your valuables. Are you trying to get killed?" the robber exclaimed.
"Yes!" Liam gave a swift answer. "I mean, I wouldn't mind it… I don't really have much to live for."
"Leave that dude, he's a psycho… get the other shit," the second robber said to his accomplice.
The first robber hesitated, his voice rough but edged with something human. "You think we want to be here? Nobody wants this life, man."
"I remember now—it's not déjà vu. I acted a scene today… about men desperate enough to become monsters," Liam continued. "I think both of you are those men, and so am I. I don't know what drove you both to this, but I'm close as well… holy fuck, I'm close."
"And I'm not sure how much longer I can put off being the monster… how much longer until I'm the one in the mask, holding a gun to an innocent man's head."
Then the loud blare of police sirens echoed from just outside the pub. The robbers immediately jolted.
"Shit, this bastard was stalling… someone called the police."
They were right.
Liam had seen when Camy ducked under the bar to phone the police, and decided why not use his excellent acting skills to delay the robbers until the cops showed up.
He put on the act of a psycho suicidal man so well it held the attention of the robbers long enough to forget the urgency of the work they did.
'It worked. Cops are here,' Liam thought as he heard the shuffle of boots outside the pub.
"You bastard, you fucked us!" one of the robbers exclaimed, pointing the pistol at Liam's head.
Liam raised his hand. "Drop the gun, mate, this isn't too bad yet… you don't have to go over the edge."
This time it wasn't acting. Liam meant his words.
However, the robber's voice came back low and angry:
"Fuck you."
BANG.
The shift was instant. The air changed from the smell of liquor to the acrid tang of sulfur. Liam looked up first at the arched dark ceiling of what seemed like a castle.
Then his gaze swept around, and his heart pounded at the sight, because as he looked and turned, what he saw around him was...
Demons?
"What… the fuck?" Liam muttered under his breath.