A Place to Belong: Chapter Two

II.

The Beast Within

I moved down the street, a few strange looks being thrown my way. People moved away from me as I passed, and finally I caught sight of myself in a plate glass window of a store. My shirt was soaked in blood and my suit jacket was scuffed and torn. 

You’re a mess. No one will respect a peon like you, especially looking like that.

I watched myself sneer in the reflective surface. Respect was the least of my worries right now, but looking like this I was just as likely to be picked up by the police as I was to be avoided in the streets. My eyes scanned the shops along the street until I caught sight of a small tailor’s storefront. It was simple, yet exquisite. The kind of place that normal people would walk into, see the prices, and leave. The kind of place wealthy people would walk into and not bother to look at tags. I marched up to the door and stepped inside without a second thought. 

The bell chimed as I stepped, probably louder than normal judging by the startled reaction of the small, balding man at the back of the store. Granted, my ragged appearance may have had something to do with it. He began to stammer something, but I ignored him as my eyes roved around the store, paying attention to the appearance of each suit that hung on what looked to be hand carved wooden hangers, the shimmer of the silk shirts that reflected the industrial orange lights, and the gleam of the cufflinks, each engraved with a variety of sigils. 

From the corner of my eye I caught a quick step of movement; the man was heading to a landline phone he had hanging on the wall. 

He needs to obey the hierarchy. He is the shopkeep, and the shopkeep serves the customer. He needs to serve. 

“Stop,” I heard my voice say, but there was an edge in my voice I’d never heard before, something hypnotic and seductive in a way that carried no emotional edge, just authority. I’ve heard a voice speak this way before, a voice that would call out and knew not only that it would be obeyed, but that it should be obeyed. 

And obey the shopkeep did. He didn’t move another step. He didn’t quiver at all. He just… stopped. 

I looked him over for a moment, seeing the fear in his eyes. He didn’t know why he couldn’t move anymore than I did, but he also didn’t know of my own confusion, so I chose to keep that hidden from my face. Turning back to the door, I flipped the sign to “closed” and locked it. The shopkeeper made a small, squeaking noise, but as I turned back to face him, he’d remained motionless. 

“I’m in the market for a new suit,” I said to him, calmly examining one of the more impressive ones, admiring the functional buttons along the cuffs. “Mine met with an… unfortunate incident. You will outfit me with what I’m looking for.”

The last sentence I said carried that authoritative tone I’d had before, and the shopkeeper immediately hurried forward, prattling on about fabrics and styles. I listened, intently, filing away each piece of information on silk cotton blends, horsehair canvas construction, and handset collars. I chose a black suit with a multihued red liner patterned with some kind of appealing geometrics, a black silk shirt, and a red tie. The little shopkeeper measured my body and tailored the ensemble to fit me precisely. As he busied himself with feverishly making the alterations, I perused his assortment of italian leather belts, shoes, and finally the cufflinks. 

I cared little for the leather products. I knew most people would pick the most expensive, but I picked the most simple. They weren’t what people would study. Those who stared at someone’s shoes either put too much value on accessories or were unable to look them in the eye. Anyone staring at someone’s belt was probably interested in something closer to the buckle at that point. The cufflinks, however… they meant something more. 

Perfection… Each small detail requires perfection. Intentionality. Without perfection there exists only failure.

I admired each set of cufflinks until I found the perfect ones. They were circular in shape, silver in color, and gleamed with a shine that screamed compulsive care. Within that circle were four black lines that created a perfect square within it, separating out the sections of silver like order coming to contain chaos. I opened the case and delicately lifted the cufflinks out, setting them down next to the shoes and belt. I emptied the pockets of my old suit and set aside the belongings that mattered. Few enough did. I kept my wallet, keys, phone, and a pen, but little else. Pragmatism was key. 

Suppress the emotional, embrace control. Power comes from controlling the self, from controlling the narrative, from controlling our surroundings…

I paused. 

“Our.” I say aloud, suddenly realizing that these thoughts in my head were not my own. They were something else… speaking to me. 

Speaking wisdom. It said again, and I recognized that seductive, hypnotic tone, only this time it was being used on me. We must survive, and in order to survive, we need order, we need structure, we need… control. 

“We need… control…” I repeated, feeling the words roll over my tongue as I reflected on this strange, dark passenger in my head. 

“Signore?” the shopkeeper asked, somewhat confused as to who I was talking to. He carried in the garment bag, hung it on a hook and unzipped it. “Do… Do you accept the quality?”

I walked over and inspected his work. The stitching was excellent, done with a machine, clearly, but guided by expert hands. The dark silk of the shirt shimmered pleasantly under the duller black of the suit jacket. I examined the sleeves and was pleased to see my initials embroidered, by hand, in a carmine red thread that stood out beautifully against the black silk without drawing too much attention to it. 

“Do you know where we first obtained the dye to make carmine red?” I asked the shopkeeper, not particularly caring whether he knew the answer or not. I could see him shaking his head and beginning to sweat slightly. “We extracted it from a small, parasitic insect that attaches itself to the prickly pear cactus that grows throughout the Americas. The females attach themselves to the side of the cactus, surrounding themselves in a protective layer of carminic acid to ward off other insects. It is this acid that creates this particular shade of red.” 

I stood up straight and turned to look at the shopkeeper. 

“You chose a color derived from an acid produced by a parasite,” I said, my smile growing wicked. “Do you know what I think of that?”

He began to shake slightly, sweat beading up more across his balding pate. He stammered, unable to formulate a sentence under my gaze. I felt my grin widen as I stepped closer to him and leaned down to speak softly in his ear. 

“I think…” I paused for dramatic effect, enjoying the feeling of authority and control that pulsed through my body in lieu of a heartbeat. “Your choice was absolute perfection.” 

His sigh of relief was audible to me, though I had already turned away and began to change into my new suit. Tossing my old, bloodied one to the floor I dismissively waved a hand at it. 

“Take that and burn it. Be sure you keep my measurements, you will need them in the future,” I spoke with my new authoritative tone. “I will return for more in the future.” 

“Sì, signore,” the shopkeeper said, collecting my discarded suit. “Shall I… Shall I start a tab for you, signore?”

I didn’t pause what I was doing, but finished fastening my cufflink before looking at myself in the mirror. 

A pyramid requires a base…  I heard the seductive voice in my head whisper to me again. 

“Yes,” I agreed to both of them, nodding at the transformation of myself that I saw in the mirror, smiling slightly at the fact that I still had a reflection. “Open the tab. I’m sure that I’ll have more work for you in the future, and you have proven yourself to be both competent and one who seeks perfection.” 

I turned to look at the little shopkeeper and found myself calculating the beginnings of a plan. 

“Hard work should be rewarded,” I said, the authoritative edge sharper in my voice now than it had ever been before. “And status should be earned.” 

A low, soft laugh echoed in the back of my mind as I made this vow, though I wasn’t sure if it was my voice or the beast’s that rumbled there.