MF1.0 - 29 - Hobnail

Stef didn’t scream, she was damn sure of that. Screaming did nothing except give an attacker satisfaction. The fuzzy shape with the glittering eyes knocked her to the ground, and she had the uncomfortable pleasure of looking up on it with her gun digging into her back. It was male. His hair was looked like a muppet reject. It was a creature of dirty white and black. The black leather it wore was sprinkled with small pieces of glass - sewn in as decoration, rather than the evidence of a defenestration. It’s face was wrinkled, like a apple left in the sun. ‘I’m…’ she began, after she wheezed a breath back in. It took a swipe at her, it’s long fingernails cutting into her shirt. ‘Intruding. Brooding. Confusing. This is my home, you’re not a gnome. Did you have a key. Did you have permission?’ It’s voice was wild, untempered, raising and falling like the roar of a crowd. ‘Didn’t need a key. Had permission.’ ‘Have to pay the price, have to pay the penalty, you shall see…’ ‘Is it your intention to rhyme?’ she asked as she attempted to sit up. A small fist punched her in the face and she was knocked back down. ‘Intruding, brooding girl. Bad!’ It jumped onto her middle, and this time, she screamed. It was smaller than a human man - a rough guessed placed it at about three-quarters of a textbook son of Adam, but it was still an uncomfortable experience. She tried to push him off, but long fingernails flicked at her wrists. ‘Should make you a statue, like that, will you? Put you in a cave, be your grave? Always watching, never moving, what you get for intruding.’ ‘Unless,’ she said through gritted teeth, ‘you have some biological imperative that will explode your head unless you do, quit with the rhymes!’ It ran its hand up her face. ‘Moody prudey. Toasty roasty.’

Assess the fscking situation! Just shoot the annoying thing, the push-up-drunk guy did. What if that’s wrong? I have no desire to be a hacker kebab. ‘What are you?’ she wheezed. ‘Bob, Bob, Bob, not a Bob, hob.’ He looked down at her and licked his lips. She slowly slid her hand to her side, wondering if she could get the gun before it struck. If it strikes. I thought I hard-erased the optimism from my brain. Nope. ‘Hob. Like a brownie? Household spirit?’ ‘Kitties and tigers, broody prudey.’ It jumped off her laughed again. ‘Kitties and tigers, guess which I am?’ Assess the situation. ‘What are you doing here?’ ‘Always here. Always in the city. Like it here. Belong here.’

At least it didn’t rhyme this time. …did you just…? Shut. Up. ‘This is your home?’ His dark eyes showed no emotion - at least none that she could recognise - as he stared down at her. ‘And my meal.’ Aren’t I supposed to have some sort of chocolate to offer ? Isn’t that how it’s supposed to go? If you haven’t been attention to your own diet, you are made of chocolate and you bleed coffee, you’re a walking, talking mocha. I hate it when you’re right. ‘This is so messed up.’ She looked up at the hob and giggled. ‘You’re completely ridiculous.’ The hob snarled. ‘What do you eat when you can’t get hacker?’ ‘Garbage.’ She snorted. ‘That explains the smell.’ ‘Moody prudey…’ ‘Moody prudey was doing what she was told to do. Have you attacked any civilians?’ The hob shuffled, then shook its head. ‘Actively working for anyone…evil?’ Another shuffle and head shake. ‘Affiliated with the Solst-ass?’ The anger on its face gave her the answer for that one. She slowly stood. ‘I deem you not a threat.’ The hob gave another high-pitched laugh. ‘Moody prudey thinks that makes all the difference?’ She looked around. ‘Yes.’ The gun was on the floor - and she wasn’t so sure in her conviction to turn her back whilst unarmed. She kept eye contact, knelt, picked it up and backed away from the hob. It stayed there, watching her, then retreated into shadow itself. She released the breath she’d been holding for half a minute, then ran from the building.