Journal of Sociology [S!6] - [Round Two: Ryburg Ritz]

"Damn it Shop," Liz complained, "stop holding out on me." She was in the stockroom; though perhaps 'room' was being a little generous. It was barely larger than a cupboard and stacked full of boxes; the contents of which were now forming a rough pile just outside the stockroom door. Liz casually tossed an earthenware pot in the general direction of the pile and didn't even turn around as it smashed and approximately one hundred spiders that had been contained inside made a bid for freedom. There was a rustle from one of the shelves and a flicker of the stockroom light.

"Don't you go trying to play innocent." Liz snapped back. "I know for a fact that that cursed gun was one of a pair, so just let me have it and do us both a favour." She paused expectantly but there was no response, and so with a roll of her eyes she tore open a new box and started shovelling its contents onto the pile behind her.

"Who are you talking to?"

Liz quickly spun around; clutching the kitschy china dog she had been holding as though she might make use of it as a weapon. She noticed two things, the first was obvious; that there was a man in her shop. The second was that the pile of enchanted antiques and assorted crap had tidied itself away in the brief second it had taken her to turn around. She thought little of it. The man was fairly generic looking (plain features, short blonde hair, thick winter clothing); Liz figured him to be one of the natives of this world. If this battle was anything like the last she had been in she was pretty sure she would know the combatants on sight.

She lowered the china dog and, with a smile, she said: "Sorry about that, only I never heard you come in. The bell on the door must be broken... again."

Nemo detected a note of pointed irritation in that last statement and, feeling that she most probably wasn't blaming him for the continued failure of her bell, he glanced around him in the hope that her conversational partner would become apparent. There was no sign of any third person in the musty old shop, yet Nemo couldn't help but notice that a number of the gaudy items on display had been rearranged, somehow without disturbing the thin layer of dust that coated them. And it had not escaped his notice that a pile of junk had disappeared between glances. He was surprised; a drab and dreary place like this ought to be sending him to sleep but he found himself oddly intrigued.

"How can I help you?" Liz asked. "Would you for instance like a horrifying china dog?" She glanced down at the item in question. It could have been a rottweiler or possibly a poodle. The only thing she could really say for certain was it was black with red eyes and flecks of blood around the mouth. "I think it's like a protective totem?" She ventured. "You know, like a guard dog."

"Not interested." Nemo replied dismissively. "I was just browsing and could have sworn I heard you talking to someone?" He asked as politely as he could manage. Though this clerk was of little consequence, it was often easier (and less trouble) to convince someone to cooperate rather than attempt to coerce answers from them.

"Oh just talking to myself I suppose." Liz replied practicedly. "You know how it is when you live on your own."

Of course, Nemo thought. He didn't know what he'd been expecting. She probably wasn't even aware of the peculiarities of her store.

Liz took another look at the dead eyed china dog, tossed it into the stockroom and closed the door just in time for something to slam heavily into it. She ignored it. "So, what kind of thing are you looking for?" Liz tried to change the subject in the hope of distracting her customer from any inexplicable noises that might be issuing from the stockroom. On someone more inclined to conform to social pressure it might have worked.

"Hey, can you hear that noise?" He replied. Surely, he thought, even the most unobservant could not remain oblivious to that persistent scratching.

"I don't know what you mean." Liz said innocently. Something slammed heavily, and loudly, into the door behind her. "Oh that noise. I don't know." She paused. "It sounds kind of worrying doesn't it?"

"I think you'd best let me handle this." Nemo said authoritatively; she'd only make a mess of it.

Liz eagerly stepped aside, her mask of concern quickly replaced with a half-grin. Almost as an afterthought she grabbed her cane from where it lay across the counter and gripped it tightly with both hands.

Nemo reached for the doorknob, eager to sate his curiosity about this place, and then paused and pulled off one of his gloves. It wasn't that he was worried about what might be on the other side, but it was unknown and it had the potential to be dangerous. He was not one to leave anything to chance. He reached out, grasped the doorknob and pulled it open in one fluid movement, and then a dog came flying at him. Not just any dog either, it was enormous with thick black fur and blood red eyes.

Nemo managed to raise his hands in protection, but the effects of his touch were not immediate and the momentum of the monstrous hound was too much. He went down with a thud. The dog remained atop him; gnashing, barking and frothing angrily at the mouth. It was not long before the effects of Nemo's touch were felt; patches of fur began to fall out, its skin became sore and blotched, its eyes crusted over with some unpleasant eye infection. Yet the beast showed no inclination of weakening. It snapped at him and writhed within his hands with just as much vigour as it had done when it first leapt. Within a minute the dog looked like something out of a nightmare (more than it had done to begin with); its skin was peeling off in places, revealing rotting knots of muscle and bone beneath and what was left was covered with enormous pustules leaking an unpleasant toxic-looking ooze. With every bark blood spattered out of the creature's mouth, and yet it still felt no close to faltering, while Nemo himself was starting to flag.

Suddenly wham and the pressure was gone. Nemo looked up to see Liz standing over him with her crystal cane now mottled with blood, and the head of the beast now missing. He glanced down the shop and saw it halfway down the shop still thrashing uselessly. He struggled for a moment to catch his breath. "What in the HELL was that?" He demanded between gulps of air.

"Dunno." Liz said with a smirk. "Looked sort of like a dog to me."

Nemo shot her an unpleasant look and then glanced towards the dog's decapitated head. "How is it not dead?"

"Probably wasn't alive to begin with." Liz said. "Good job you were here to do your... thing on it. Nice trick by the way. I'd love to know how to do it myself."

"I'd be happy to give you a demonstration." Nemo replied. He climbed somewhat clumsily to his feet and Liz nimbly took a step or two back.

"I like you." she said, a thin smile playing upon her lips. "You're part of this battle thing, right?"

That caught him off guard. "Who told you about that?" Nemo asked.

"There was this guy in before you." Liz deftly lied.

"Did you try to feed him to the dogs too?" He replied sarcastically.

"Not so much." Liz said. She turned, strode into the stockroom and started searching for something. "Look, I'm sympathetic to your situation, so why not take one of my antiques? On the house. Pretty much all of them have some kind of crazy magic mojo on them." She paused and glanced around at Nemo who was still gathering himself. "I mean you clearly don't need them but maybe they could be useful in a pinch?" She shrugged and emerged from the stockroom with an empty cardboard box, around about the right size to contain the head of a monstrously oversized decapitated dog. "I kind of have a mess to clean up." she said. "You wouldn't believe how much dead bodies put off potential customers."