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soulnottainted · 15 days ago

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Safe House

(header source)

Boris Shuster x Self Insert (Kelsey Thompson)

Boris tends to the dame he rescued from the Kitty Kat Club. Three totems collected out of six, of supernatural origin, that summons creatures of hell to the mortal world. Her life won't be the same. Neither will his.

tw: mentions of death, alcohol

tagging: @batlesbianism @starlos-soulmate @dragonsmooch @emceescha @cherry-bomb-ships @edencantstopfallininlove

A soft, groggy stir came from the back of the apartment; the slight creak of the twin box spring mattress became a dead giveaway that his guest had woken up. Honestly he was surprised she woke up at all, considering what those devil broads at the Kitty Kat gave her. After he had taken out the trash in the club, Boris knew he couldn’t just leave her there and passed out, having to fend for herself when she awoke. The thought about the multiple patrons that went missing from that very establishment made the PI settle on the fact that if he hadn’t been there at the right time, this sweet dame would have been gone like the rest of them. So, he brought her back here, to his headquarters, his office, his home, the only place he could afford. It was hilariously small, but it suited him just fine. Although with his slowly awaking guest it felt a tinge bit cramped. Nothing Boris couldn’t handle though. Hearing her, that was his cue to get up from his desk, pausing the telegraph he was producing from his typewriter, not surprised in the slightest that the girl didn’t awake because of the loud clicks of the keys. The concoction that the unsuspecting gal sipped would’ve been deadly if she drank it all, but with the few sips that she did, she wouldn’t wake up for three to four hours, not waking up if a hulking steam train were to whip by her head.

The worn wooden floor creaked under Boris’ weight as he lifted himself off the chair, his calloused hands firmly pressing down near his knees, bending his elbows as he hoisted upwards. Normally Boris’ cases with the four totems he found so far, saw the victims already dead, but this one was a first: she survived.

It only took ten steps to take him from his desk to the back of the apartment, going from his office space to his residential, the bed not too far away from his lousy excuse for a kitchenette. If he turned on the stove too hot it would become a fire hazard just by placement to everything else alone. Unfortunately the payment he would get from cases, despite asking for payment in advance, wouldn’t leave much wiggle room for Boris to eat out much, no matter how Louie’s boss lowered the cost because the PI had been a regular.

Supernatural cases were much less profitable than the simple infidelity or fraud, although Boris would argue that cases that dealt with these supernatural forces were the ones that should be double the pay. He couldn’t exactly bill anyone for these totem cases that he opened however, as that whole shtick had started personally, in 1948. The first totem, the vase belonging to the Baccanoid legion, arrived at the steps of the apartment, summoning a ghoul into his office space and having to shoot it down. The ghoul definitely didn’t mistake his residence for the laundry room, that was for sure, unlike some people. Things started to link together after realizing there was more than one totem, and the search, now in 1953, was still going on. The funds Boris got from case solving mostly were from the normal, mortal-centric cases, nothing else. But enough of that, he’d focus on the incoming bills later. Right now, he needed to attend to his guest.

The curvy, dark blonde woman stared at her trembling hands which had rested near her face. Without her spectacles her world was blurry as it was: finish that off with sleeping off a poison and that made her world felt like it was spinning. Her eyes darted around the room, which was not the brightest idea given her condition, making the room spin worse and made her forcefully shut her eyes.

“Easy now, doll,” a voice with the local New York accent coaxed gently, as if it was trying to push past the roughness that it typically had for more of a smooth approach, “You’re safe here. Try not to move too fast or else whatever is left in ya is sure to spew, and y’don’t want that.”

She recognized it slightly, as she heard it before she had entered the club: a woman inside beckoned, "Boris! Get in here! Dance with me!" before Boris himself murmured, although his words were meant to be directed at the voice cat-calling from the inner club, “This city is lousy with temptation, and you're the Devil.”

Boris? His name was Boris? Was that right?

The whole incident was hazy now, except for the moment that would remain forever ingrained in her mind, when the She-Devils surrounded her excitedly, licking their lips as the girl choked on the drink they casually gave her, ready for her to pass out so they could devour her.

“W..Where…”

“You’re in my office,” Boris spoke a bit clearer, hands slipped into the pockets of his pants as he stepped closer, “Th’ name’s Boris. Shuster. Private Eye. I happened to stumble into the Kitty Kat right as you took a drink. Whatever those gals from hell gave you, it definitely was no ordinary instance of bein’ sauced.”

A pause.

“You alright, doll?” She certainly didn’t look it.

“Just…Head’s spinning,” she murmured, which prompted Boris to quickly stride a few steps to reach for an empty glass and fill it with tap water.

“Don’t move your head or your pretty little eyes too much, just focus on somethin’ and keep ‘em there. Here.”

His calloused hand reached to hand it to her; the young woman’s body jolted for a split second as her softer hand grazed his ever so slightly. Appreciative, she took the glass in her slightly trembling hand before taking a cautionary sip before taking a definite one.

“Thank you,” she murmured softly, although there was fear behind it, it wasn’t of Boris, “What happened to those girls? And my friends?”

Boris had been an officer for the NYPD, then a detective, working himself up the ladder until he decided to retire and become a PI. He had seen tremendous violence, any and every crime imaginable. After years in the field, it was as easy as flipping a light switch that Boris could shut down his emotions in an instant, relying heavily on the left side of his brain when he needed to focus.That came in handy when it came to the toughest tasks that any normal person wouldn’t be able to handle, mainly setting aside the gruesome and inhumane horrors and trying to piece clues together, as well as the thing that Boris had to carefully tread: telling the innocent that their loved ones were gone. His mind had to shut off when he spoke of such things, as the person opposite him would start crying in disbelief, telling him that the victim shouldn’t be dead, that this was all a dream. Then he’d have to tread sacred ground, sounding sympathetic while also trying to keep removed from the emotion at the same time. It was such a fine line to cross, and if not done properly would seem that he was cold, but if he leaned too much into it he would be too involved: such was the life of an investigator. As much as he wanted to be straight with her, the information he wanted to give her was a door opening to another realm, but she had the right to know. She might not even believe him, but one thing was for certain…

“I’m sorry,” he replied, not letting his heart leave his chest, as much as he wanted it to, “Your friends were turned into those creatures. They might have been your friends before, but when they came into contact with that totem, that vase? They were changed. What humanity was in them was taken away, only the hunger of having a meal of human flesh remaining. They might have talked like your friends, acted like them, but that was to coax you into their trap.”

As the detective suspected, she was in a state of disassociation, trying to grasp what he explained. To his surprise however, he heard her flatly murmur, “They weren’t human,” which prompted Boris to tilt his head to the side ever so slightly. Not a question she said, but a statement. She believed him, or at least the woman was trying to make herself believe him. Her pale blue eyes contained that despite looking off into nothing, she was remembering something truly horrific. Looking into the eyes peered right into the soul and from those orbs alone, the PI knew that her world changed at that moment, just as he did once upon a time. It was strange to think that there were years of his life not dedicated to those damn totems and the legions of supernatural horrors that came from it.

Five years felt like an eternity. Five years ago, the gumshoe was panting heavily from having that ghoul who had infiltrated the modeling agency a few doors down, then his office, eat lead. He had successfully put in a few rounds into the creature, staring down at it with horror and fascination. Whatever that monster was, he was certainly bringing the ugly. Boris�� head felt like it was a spinning top as his mind couldn’t comprehend what the hell his eyes were taking in. No amount of whiskey would get that image out of his mind. But the instincts as a PI took hold of him, wanting to investigate further, wanting to figure out why, when this random vase showed up at his doorstep, did a supernatural creature wreak havoc in his apartment complex. His work was certainly cut out for him and the realm of spirits, demons, and other hell spawn suddenly became his focus. He never stopped. As much as it terrified him, there were innocent civilians involved. A rabbit hole was what he dug himself into about the vase, and quickly the word Baccanoid became a prominent new word in his consciousness, it became an addiction. There were many pieces to the puzzle as he gathered more and more information and more of the totems themselves, but Boris remembered that first encounter he had with that ghoul. The girl sitting on his bed was still recovering from her own first encounter with creatures from another realm. She was certainly out of it, but it was clear that her mind accepted what she witnessed, the private investigator confirming her internal thoughts without her having to even bring up the devilish women.

“Correct,” he solidified in return, standing about five feet away from the dame, “And you were going to be their next meal.” The PI took a couple steps forward, slowly leaning from side to side as he approached her, looking down at her out-of-it state and trying to make her refocus, “But you’re outta harm’s way now. The totem’s stored away and the devils can’t be lookin’ out for more people to nab.You’re very fortunate, Miss…”

The other was listening, but when Boris had alluded to asking her name, she blinked a couple of times, finally turning her head to peer up at him, hands resting in her lap.

“Thompson,” she replied fairly, “Kelsey Thompson.”

“Miss Thompson,” he continued with a respectful nod of his head, “I know this is a lot to comprehend. It ain’t easy. Hell, I didn’t believe in any of this until a similar incident befell me in this very room. But I need you t’ know that these things are real, that you ain’t imagining things. And I’m sure you have a lot on your mind. Whatever questions you have, I’ll try to answer.” Hands slid into his slack pockets. “You also might try to bury last night’s incident in the back of your mind. Trust me doll, I’ve tried that too; it never goes away. If you’d like to forget that night after this, we’re jake on that. But before you do, I want you to completely understand what happened, ‘cause if you don’t, and you never set eyes on me again? I know those questions are gonna consume you until you’re miserable and sick. A pretty gal like you doesn’t deserve that.”

“You already know I’ve been trying to forget, Detective.” All her responses were in her sweet voice, but all that was wrapped in it was an empty hollowness, traumatized.

He picked up immediately on it, and he nodded again in agreement, his comfort coming in the form of assuredly repeating, a slight notch of a bittersweet smile forming on the side of his mouth, “Oh I know. I’ve done the same thing as you, sweetheart. But, I was alone when all of it happened, and I’ve attempted to deal with it in my own ways, unsuccessfully might I add. So if you have any questions-”

“How did you know to come in?” Kelsey gazed up into his eyes: close but also oh so distant in their focus.

“How did I know to come into the club?” Boris clarified. When she nodded a little, he continued, “I was waitin’ outside, trying not to make myself stick out like a sore thumb. Several patrons had been goin’ missing the other night. I caught wind of it quick, since well-”

Shuster motioned his head towards the front window of his residence, past the lettering of his business, to the Kitty Kat Club neon signage across the way, “I can’t exactly ignore anythin’ that goes on in there. Also a regular. I wondered why there was no gorilla workin’ the door like usual. Things weren’t stackin’ up as the night went on. Had my back turned, but I kept close attention to the sound of who entered the joint and who left. I recognized the same broads comin’ and leavin’. They always left the place by themselves, then came back with one or two people. About thirty minutes would pass before the same two gals would leave the club, without the two they arrived with. New patrons would go in, none would leave. So either I was right or the nursin’ I took on that bottle of Lazy Bastard was truly kickin’ in.”

Kelsey listened as he continued. Honestly one would expect Boris to pace about the room as he spoke, but he stayed directly in front of her, no fuss about it.

“Then I suppose the she-devils that were runnin’ the whole show were gettin’ onto me. One of the gals from inside the club, her voice had changed. Kept askin’ me to go inside for a drink, a dance…I used every trick in the book to avoid doin’ so. And then I heard you and the same two gals who kept comin’ in and out of the Kitty Kat. I knew if I took the broads out on the street, it would cause a scene. Inside the club it could’ve caused somethin’, sure, but it’s a controlled environment in there. Also if I was inside, I could figure out what the hell was goin’ on with the other patrons, and by extension, makin’ sure that you weren’t gonna meet their same fate.”

“I almost did,” a tinge of fearful realization slipped into Kelsey’s tone, and that made Boris switch gears. One of his larger hands reached to firmly squeeze her small rounded shoulder.

“But you didn’t and that’s what counts, sweetheart. I couldn’t save the rest of the patrons, couldn’t save the people who had been turned into those creatures, but getting you out of there alive? Just one person? That was more than I thought I was gonna save. Unfortunately every encounter I’ve had with these totems from hell, whoever comes into contact, doesn’t survive. Every single person. Until now.”

“I owe you my life, Detective.”

“No, no you don’t doll,” Shuster sighed softly, coming out a bit more gruff than he wanted to, “It’s my job. And please, call me Boris, Miss Thompson.”

“Kelsey, Boris.”

A surprising, amused chuckle escaped him. Slowly but surely, he was getting Miss Thompson to open up. He wasn’t asking her to. It was a welcoming tone shift, although the heavy conversation was not quite done. She could walk out the door at any time. But instead of leaving Boris to talk of nonsense, she stayed, she listened, understood as much as it pained her to think about the horrific glimpse into the supernatural, a sudden drop into a terrifying world that Boris seemed to have inhabited for a long while now.

“Kelsey,” Boris confirmed with another squeeze of her shoulder before letting go, her name falling from his lips, his mouth warming up to the prospect of it, “You’re welcome t’ stay until you feel better, although my place isn’t the biggest and most luxurious, unless you feel like you have enough strength t’ go home and want to.”

He watched as despite the young woman having gone through hell and back in less than 24 hours, she was trying her best to understand and move on, thankful to have her life. There was debate in her eyes until she settled, “I…I think I’ll be okay D-....Boris. I should go home, get some proper rest.”

“Best to rest in y’ own bed, I get it. That bed’s on it’s last legs, honestly. Can’t afford a new one, but that’s none of your concern. You’ll snooze like a babe, I’m sure. But before you go, here. ”

As Kelsey slowly stood up from the creaking bed, Boris’ legs crossed the room to his desk before grabbing one of his business cards. When he turned back, he was still within arm's reach of her, as the space was so small, “Give me a call anytime. If you need to talk, I’m here. All of this talk of totems is all my business, nobody else’s. If somethin’ is bothering you about any of this, I want to know. I need to know. Probably would be the only other that would believe you. I can live with all of this bull, but you shouldn’t have to.You have a life to keep livin’, doll. My life jus’ happens to revolve around all this madness.”

When she stood next to him, Boris felt like a giant. The sweet dame took the card in her hand before slipping it into her cobalt blue velvet jacket, then adjusted it around her shoulders, “I…I will, Boris. Thank you….again.”

It was difficult to say much else, as Kelsey didn’t know what to say to the man who had saved her life, as he said he wanted nothing in return.

“You’re welcome. Have a nice evening.”

For once, Boris didn’t think about the bills coming in and all his income going out in one fellow swoop. He wasn’t thinking about the stacks of folders filled with missing persons documents and photographic evidence of cheating that his associate Mr. McPhearson was digging up for him.

Boris was thinking of the gorgeous petite beauty that left his office with a soft click of the door behind her. For a long minute, he just stood there, unmoving. The first person he saved from the clutches of forces beyond the mortal plane would go home safe. He wanted to see her sweet face again, as much as he knew in his mind that she probably would never acknowledge the card in her pocket. Even if she did care, talking to him would re-open wounds of the horrific night at the Kitty Kat, which Boris understood. Whatever she chose to do, he’d respect it, as it was his job to move on, his job to leave his clients with closure.

But this was a whole other situation entirely. Kelsey had been the sole surviving victim with a case he dubbed The Lustful Alibi, and with the previous cases of the totems linking together, her case wouldn’t entirely be closed, not until this whole mess of the other totems was solved and complete. Little did he know that three more totems needed to be found and that his thread with Miss Kelsey Thompson was far from over.

He figured the second part out when his telephone rang around 2 in the morning.

“Mr. Shuster? Boris, can we talk?”

“I was awaitin’ your call, doll.”

#hhn #halloween horror nights #boris shuster #my writing ;;

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