Feeding the Beasts

Opening the door revealed a small unfortunate man, who staggered under the weight of no less than six bags. As Gregori stepped up to the threshold, the civilian’s eyes widened. “Mister Hendrick?” he squeaked.

The giant grinned wide. “No.”

Trembling hands fumbled at a front pocket before pulling out a crisp white paper. “I apologize; I must have the wrong address—”

“Titan,” Hendrick’s low growl stopped the deliveryman’s stuttering, “that’s my food you’re threatening.”

If possible, the man in the hall paled even further. Frightened eyes turned to Gregori as the shaking man whispered, “He’s talking about the delivery, right?”


Previous – The Demand for Forethought

Next – Ending Silence


About azhwi

An editing student, graduated Feb 2012. An avid fan of video games, fanfiction, anime, writing, and the serial comma.
This entry was posted in Man-Made Wings, Post-Trauma and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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