by thedoctor
La Perdita:
The noise and commotion of the party blanketed the sound of a distant explosion as the ground shook. After a few minutes, the smell of something severely burnt and charred wafted through the air. Very shortly after the smell had made its way into the noses of the party guests, the doors were forced open by a boot.
A man walked in wearing a black trench coat, fedora, and carrying a duffle bag on his left shoulder. A trail of smoke could be seen rising from the ground quite a distance behind him.
"Who the hell is that?" someone asked.
"Bell. Dirk Bell." The man took out a cigar and lit it. "I'm the new bad ass in town."
Silence befell the room. People stopped chatting, and cows stopped singing.
Sam Dawson walked up to ask this stranger, Dirk Bell, exactly who he was. Dirk dumped the duffel bag into his hands and said, "Take this up to my room, but be careful. There just might be a tip in it for ya."
He then pointed to a crate sitting outside the door. "Don't worry about that one. I'll take care of it myself. It's... sensitive."
Dirk walked over to the nearest female, grabbed her hand, and walked her toward the dance floor. "Make sure I get a room with a view," he yelled to Sam as he signaled for the band to start playing again and danced.
As Dirk Bell called upon his powers of seduction and charm, his dance partner was still trying to get her mind straight on what had just happened. Everything went by so fast that her brain hadn't had time to process the entire event.
"So," Dirk finally said, "what does a fella have to do to get a smile around here?" It worked. She smiled. Phase one complete. Now on to phase two, he thought to himself. "Now there's a sight that would launch a thousand ships."
The young woman's mind finally cleared the fog that had shrouded it. "What did you say your name was again?"
"Dirk Bell. Don't worry. It'll be a name that everyone will remember real soon."
Her brain finally received the message from her nose. "What's that... crispy smell?"
"That?" he never missed a beat. "That's just the smell of re-entry." Her face looked very confused. "Let's just say that I'd have a hard time coming through airport security, so I had to make other arrangements."
"But how did you get in?"
"My old job." Dirk, in a fluid motion, tossed his cigar into a potted plant in the corner and grabbed two glasses of champagne off a counter, handing one to the girl. "It put me in a position to do... unordinary things."
"Why aren't you still there?"
"I quit." He sipped some champagne as though it was a deserved reward. "Yeah, just got into a pod and scooted on out of there. Besides, I saw no reason in hanging around after they fired me."
"They fired you?" A creeping sensation that this wasn't exactly the kind of guy that you'd take home to mother overtook her.
"Yep. For the eighth... no, ninth time."
"They fired you nine times?"
"So far. This month. If I had stayed long enough for them to hire me back -- like they always do -- I might have beaten my old record. But that sort of thing wears out after a while. You have to move on. Start things out fresh." He tapped his glass on hers. "To a new life," he said, and finished it off.
Reluctantly, she drank her champagne. The box that he left outside caught the corner of her eye. "And that?"
"That? ... um... fireworks," Dirk said with a large smile that dominated his face. "Really special and rare fireworks."