This is unusual.

Michael Dennings, CEO of Avery Electrics, is actually at work for once. In his office on the top most secure of a very stylish, modern, environmentally friendly glass building in the heart of Bayfield's bustling downtown. Not the sketchy part with the prostitutes, of course. The other part. The respectable part.

Mike is alone in his office. His secratary, who is smoking hot, is in her office which is outside of his office. Mike is reading over very important files, and drinking a cup of coffee. The coffee is absolutely not spiked. Mike would never drink at work. He's far too responsible.

He's clean shaven today, wearing discreet diamond studs in his ears, hair brushed back into a tidy ponytail, and him all dressed up in one of those hideously expensive custom made suits he wears. A suit has to be custom made if it's going to fit Mike properly and this one fits very well. It's black. His shirt is royal purple. His tie is snazzy and velvet.

He's focused on the papers. They're very important papers.

This is a little awkward for Alex, no lie. Awkward and potentially dangerous if Michael's sister is hanging around, the slutty one with the angry eyes. But he wants to talk to Mike, because apparently he needs more firepower.

Alex is talking to the secretary now. He's looking very suave himself today, because he's meeting with an Important Person. He's got on a suit. It's not as fancy as Mike's, but it looks it. Alex made it fit right with a little glamor.

He doesn't look respectable, though. His hair is a little bit too long. And he gives off a bit of a gangster vibe. But the secretary doesn't really notice because hey, he's got a great mustache.

Michael's ponytail is most of the way down his back, but that's all right.

He's so rich that no one is going to complain about the length of his hair or the number of his piercings. Anyway, business dress codes are just getting more and more relaxed as civilisation plummets into sin and decadence. It's all good.

The secratary, whose blouse is very low cut, as further evidence of the fall of the civilised world, is trying to tell Alexander that he can't see Mr Dennings because he doesn't have an appointment and would he like to make an appointment and come back later?

She'd feel okay if they just had sex on her desk though. Because damn is that a nice mustache.

Alex tells her that yes, he does have an appointment. Just look at the computer screen full of Mr Dennings' appointments! His vague and unmemorable pseudonym is right there. He made an appointment weeks ago, of course.

The secratary looks again. She blinks. That so wasn't there before, was it? Well, there it is now. She frowns suspiciously, blinks again, and smiles over-enthusastically up at Alexander.

Mustache...

"I'm so sorry Mr Jones," she says. "I'll let him know you're here."

She steps into Michael's office to let him know there's a highly suspicious man who wants to see him. Michael's not fussed. He probably would be had the secretary mentioned about the mustache but the secretary was too busy imagining how it would feel to kiss the mustache to actually tell her boss about it.

So she reappears a moment later and smiles at Alexander.

"Go on in Mr Jones."

Alex nods and masks how awkward he feels right now with a charming smile at the secretary. Nice girl.

He walks into Mike's office. Please please please don't kill Alex, Michael. He's nice on the inside! Soft and fuzzy like a care bear.

Soft and fuzzy like a care bear that likes to kidnap and rape people, right.

Michael is not happy to see Alexander. In fact, this is perhaps the understatement of the century. Michael is some uncomfortable combination of enraged, frightened, and ashamed. They're all very overpowering negative emotions. He may need some medication. Like right now.

He gets up from his chair, because he's not good at being cool and calm, and he looks scarier standing up. That's a lot of guy and a lot of muscle contained in a lot of suit.

"What the fuck do you want?"

Alex raises his eyebrows, his mask still in place. He doesn't really know what the fuck he wants. Perhaps bazookas. He's running low on those.

Mike is scary. Alex is scared by him, but he's got a mustache and a convincing bemused eyebrow raise to hide it behind.

"Guns?" Alex says, raising both palms in the air to show that he has peaceful, businessy intentions.

Mike could probably make pulp out of Alexander now that there aren't any of those pesky mages inbetween them. Oh, that could be fun too. Mike has issues with rage and he's feeling a lot of it pent up right now. The idea of putting Alexander's face through one of the attractive mustard coloured walls has a lot of appeal ofr Michael.

He advances on Alexander, with deliberate, powerful strides.

"You want guns?"

He sounds just a wee bit incredulous.

Alex stands his ground, perhaps unwisely. Letting Mike beat the crap out of him, well, Alex certainly deserves it. Why is he here again? To be beaten up? But that'd probably not do wonders for his complexion.

"Yes," Alex replies. "Bazookas, to be specific."

Mike was not looking for an honest answer to this question. In fact, he's not looking for much of anything from Alexander. He'd prefer that the asshole stay the hell out of his life at this point. But since Alexander is there, in Mike's office, standing perfectly still and presenting Mike with a fairly decent target, Mike punches him, slamming his fist into Alexander's smug arrogant face like he can wipe that smug arrogant mustache right off it.

Alexander pretends to be a punching bag. Unfortunately for him, Mike is a hell of a lot bigger and stronger than Amely Smith.

Ow. His mustache is still there and so is a whole lot of blood.

It's sticky unpleasant black blood and it's all over Mike's fist too. He's not really bothered. He gives his fist a nonchalant shake and grins a little ferally. Oooh, that feels better. And since Alex seems like he's just going to stand there and bleed like a complete wuss, Mike punches him again.

A complete wuss would probably be on the ground, crying right now. So Alex isn't a complete wuss. He staggers and stands back up again.

Alex reminds himself that he is a punching bag today, not a rapist or a care bear.

Mike's not a nice guy.

Did we mention he has issues with rage? He has issues with rage. He'll punch Alex and he'll keep on punching him till he's on the ground. Then kicking may ensue. Bones may be broken. Crunching sounds don't worry Mike and neither does copious amounts of blood.

He's in his happy place.

Alex is a punching bag. A punching bag, blue, like his tie.

Mike ends up kicking him into the wall and leaving a nice black smear across the mustard paint and the rust red molding. "You're a fucking asshole," he informs Alex, punctuating words with gratutitious kicks to Alexander's ribs.

"I am," Alex agrees. Bad Alex. Punching bags don't talk. But then again, punching bags tend not to have ribs either. Perhaps being a punching bag isn't such a great idea. Broken ribs aren't pleasant.

"You are," Mike shouts at the punching bag. He's apparently not impressed with Alex's cheerful admission of guilt. He kicks him again. Alex is getting kind of sad and limp like wet lettuce, but the signals that say 'stop now' aren't quite getting through to Mike's brain, "is that all you've fucking got to say? You are?"

Ooh ooh lettuce is a vegetable! If Amy and Mike keep up this way Bayfield will just be one big salad! One big slutty, gay, pregnant, emo salad. Perhaps in a catsuit. Who knows.

Yes Mike, that is all Alex has to say. It's kind of hard to talk when several of your bones are broken and you're losing a hella lot of blood.

Mike has sensibly now stopped kicking Alexander. He doesn't however feel bad, or like he should say, seek medical attention for the guy. In fact he's quite content to let the asshole bleed to death on the plush wall to wall carpet. Mike can always get new carpet.

In about six hours, Mike will feel terrible about having done this to Alexander, and he will be emo and angsty and self loathing.

Right now he feels pretty good about it though. So he leaves Alexander on the floor and goes back to his very important papers.


The secretary however, coming in a minute later, is weirded out by the blood. And worried about the health and well-being of Alexander's mustache.

She screams like the girl she is, and calls 911.

This could get interesting, seeing as Alex isn't really human.

Oh so very interesting. Luckily Alexander is Very Important, given that he's the leader of a Very Important gang. His bodyguards are all really pissed at him right now, because he ran away to go get beaten up by Mike here. But now they've found him. They come bursting into Mike's office. They are not pleased.

The party consists of Banks, Magenta, and Morgan, the new healer. The old one got squished or punched or shot or something. Morgan is very disappointed in Alex, but runs up to go tend to his considerable wounds.

Unfortunately, they're in the Avery Building.

It's a nice building, as mentioned. Very tall, very shiny, very full of well trained Avery security teams. They have big guns, and magical powers. They're like goons, but cleverer than average. Several dozen of them are currently pouring into Mike's office, with guns pointed at Alexander's little bodyguard friends and at Alexander.

"Drop your weapons, open your mouths and put your hands over your heads!" yells the head security goon.

Mike is watching with some disinterest from behind his papers.

Magenta and Banks do as they're told. Morgan, however, is busy possibly saving the life of his boss. He's also pretending that there are no clever goons in the room. No guns either. His job is to heal, damn it.

Alexander can't do as he's told because, clearly, punching bags don't have mouths.

The head security goon also has - wait for it - morals. He lets the healer continue doing his job and doesn't worry too much about the bloody mess on the floor. He looks to his boss for guidance.

Michael sighs. What a fucking mess. And he can feel guilt setting in. It's definitely time to call it a day, go home, get drunk, watch bad TV, and be emo. Nevermind that it's not even lunch time yet. Who cares? Not Mike.

"Just get them out of here," he says. He sounds tired.

The head goon politely waits for Morgan to finish before he relocates the criminal party.

Remember, Mike, that home is where the two slutty chicks are. One of them is your sister. One of them really wants to get in your pants. They're most likely having sex right now. Sure you want to go home?

As for the head security goon, intelligence and morals? These goons are too good to be true.

The goon is average looking and doesn't have sex on his cigarette breaks. He's possibly the best goon ever. He almost but doesn't quite deserve a name.

Michael is indeed remembering the lesbian sex going on at home. And his own general policies of not sleeping with crazy married fae chicks that are also banging his sister. Eurgh. Yeah, maybe he'll just chill out in this office with his angst, 'coffee' and very important papers.

Morgan finishes healing Alex, but Alex'll need to sleep for about two days before he'll be able to function properly. The gangsters leave without a fuss, though, not wanting to have anything to do with these intelligent goons that don't have cigarette break sex.