Tiffani Andrews’ heels clicked on the floor as she walked through the fifth-floor hallway. The drab walls and the cheap cracked tile floors added to the sense of decay that the musty smell of the place brought to her. Regardless of her misgivings, she pressed on, finally reaching the door that she sought. A small sign on the frosted glass door announced what was to be found within.

Ancient Antiques

“Well, that’s redundant.” She muttered under her breath. Turning the latch on the door, she stepped inside. The mustiness outside of the small office paled in comparison to that within. Even the open window to her left didn’t help the odor. She glanced around at the carefully arranged piles of junk, mixed with the carefully arranged piles of antiquities. From across the relatively small room came the proprietor. He smiled greasily, revealing his crooked, yellow teeth, and offered his thin, bony hand.

“Hiya, miss. Name’s Bryant, purveyor of fine antiques.”

She shook his hand carefully, trying to adopt a pleasant smile. After releasing her grip, he ran the hand over his oily, combed over hair.

“What can I do for ya, miss? Perhaps I could interest you in some fine antique jewelry?”

“No, thank you.” She answered politely. “I’m actually looking for someone. His name is Phobos. I know that he comes here occasionally, and that you keep an eye out for certain ‘hard to find’ items for him. I need to know how I can find him.”

He hitched up his pants and continued to display his brilliantly discolored teeth.

“Sorry, but I don’t know anyfing about him.”

Tiffani sighed and tried to keep her voice calm.

“Yes, you do. I have to find him so that I can talk to him about his brother, Deimos.”

A light of recognition flared in his bloodshot eyes and he wagged a finger in her direction.

“Yeah, I know you. You’re that girl that manages his bruffer, Deimos in the WWA. Say, he’s got a match against Nick Adams, doesn’t he? What do you fink his chances are?”

Tiffani’s polite smile dropped instantly. She stared at the small, thin, oily man before her for a long moment. She had heard those words a lot lately, from Los Angeles to Hamburg. Every time that she had started asking questions about Phobos, someone would ask that exact same question about Deimos, What do you think his chances are? She forced the smile to return to her lips.

“Well, he has a lot of respect for Nick. I know that he’ll be going out there with the intention of giving Nick Adams a good challenge. It’ll be tough, but I think Deimos can pull it off.”

“That’s great. I’m sure he’ll do great.” Bryant continued to smile, nodding enthusiastically. Perhaps too enthusiastically.

“Well, if you happen to hear from Phobos, let him know that I’m looking for him.” She said pleasantly.

“You bet I will, pretty lady.”

Tiffani turned and removed herself from the musty office. Bryant watched her leave, fascinated by the measure of her stride. When she disappeared from view, he turned and pulled a pack of cigarettes from one pocket and a cellular phone from the other. He tapped out a cigarette and placed it gingerly in his lips. After placing the cigarette pack back in his pocket, he punched a few numbers on the phone and brought it to his ear. He waited for a moment as he fished the lighter from the same pocket that the cigarettes had been in.

“Hey! Yeah, you were right.” He gushed. “She was here. Right pretty fing, too. Nah, I didn’t tell her nuffing. Right, you got it.”

He turned back to the door as he hung up the phone and froze in place. There, leaning against the doorframe, was Tiffani.

“So, who was that?” She asked coldly.

“I—I don’t know what you—“

Tiffani cut him off by stepping forward and delivering a swift fist to his nose. He stumbled back, clutching at his face as the pain shot through him.

“Don’t give me that crap!” She shouted, brimming with anger. “Someone is playing games with me and I do not appreciate it! Deimos needs his brother right now! He’s torn with doubt and the only person who can set the record straight is Phobos! Now tell me who you’re reporting to or you’ll tickling your scrotum when you brush your teeth!”

He saw the intensity in her narrowed eyes, the anger and determination. Between her clenched fists and clenched jaw, he had no doubt that she would hurt him to get the information.

“I—I can’t.” He stated in a small, pathetic voice.

“Then give me the phone and I’ll find out who it was myself.” She demanded.

He glanced at the phone. Then, he glanced back at her. He had never been a fighter, and she obviously knew how to handle herself. He wouldn’t be able to keep the phone away from her. On the other hand, he couldn’t reveal his contact, at any cost. With a sigh of resignation, he tossed the phone out of the open window.

Tiffani raced to the window, reaching out in a desperate bid to catch it. She was too late. She could only watch as the phone that held the number of the person that he had just called fell five stories, toppling end over end in the air. On the sidewalk below, it clattered apart into several pieces. She stared after it for a moment, as if trying to determine whether the phone could somehow be salvaged. But, she knew better.

She pulled her head back inside the room and turned to face him with her eyes narrowed, and her lips pulled into a white line.

“I—I’m sorry.” He apologized in his weak little voice. “But, I’m more afraid of him than I am of you.”

She continued to watch him. The fear in his eyes, and the trembling in his body, attested to his fear. She looked away and rested her head in her hands.

“I see.” She said, shaking her head. With a deep breath, she looked back at him. “It probably wouldn’t do me any good to torture you, would it?”

He shook his head fearfully.

“Fine.” She said as her shoulders slumped. She turned and walked away, leaving again through the open door.

He stared after her for a moment, peering through the tears in his eyes. Still trembling, he slowly lowered his eyes to look at the growing wet stain on his pants.

“Oh God, he’s going ta kill me.”