teddywolf

The man wakes up. He's laying on a long concrete trough filled with dirt, which looks like it normally would host large, pretty blooms but instead has him lying on the packed earth. He is woozy, a little bleary eyed. As his vision clears he sees he's in a cul-de-sac on a street lined with tenement buildings. Several trash cans are off to one side of one stoop, while across the street a small store is unlit, with a 'Closed' sign up in the window. Its the middle of the day, warm and sunny, but not a soul can be found.

He gets up from his temporary bed, taking inventory. He's still in his clothes, but his wallet and keys are missing, along with all of his money and any form of identification. He checks for his service revolver - gone. His holdout pistol? Not there. All of his tiny concealed tools? No zip line, no mirrors, no sights, not even his toothbrush. Well, to be fair that did have a tiny .22 caliber single shot built into it, but even so.

He walks down the street, looking for some clue as to where he was. The street sign says Sesame. Suddenly he feels a cold and clammy presence. A giant white ball has enfolded him, bouncing. He can't move, can't breathe! It starts moving him...

... When he wakes up he's elsewhere, in a large mostly-dark room dominated by a pipe organ. Mildly spooky music plays in the background as a cloaked figure appears, a monocle seemingly fused to one eye, his skin fuchsia in the odd light. "You're awake! Goood! Ah ah ah!" the figure grins, the final syllables in descending tones. His grin is enhanced by the extra long canines; he has an atrocious fake Eastern European accent. "We were wondering when you would wake up again. You have much to tell us. We need information!"

The man frowns. "I'm not telling you anything just yet. Who are you?"

The figure's grin never fades or falters. "Why, I suppose I can trade with you. I am the Count! Ah ah ah!" The accent doesn't get any better or any more recognizable.

"What am I doing here?"

"I told you, we need information! Why did you leave your last job?"

The man thought, His canines should gleam in the dim light but look more like scoured bone. "I told them and I'll tell you: I was tired of it. I quit!"

"We know you quit, we just need to know why! We may have a job for you!"

"Where am I?" asks the man, changing the subject.

"Grin. "Why, you are on Sesame Street! Ah ah ah!"

The man frowns. He's heard of the place before but never knew how to find it despite a few attempts. "Well. Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street, Count?"

"Hey, smart guy, I am the one asking the questions! Where was I?"

"A job."

"Oh yes! Why did you leave your last job?"

The man sighs. "I was tired of spying, of killing, of never having friends, never being home. I wanted nights with friends and family, time with loved ones. The smiles of children, pitter patter of tiny little feet - something normal." He's said it twenty times already, this makes-

"Ah! The twenty-first time you said that! Ah ah ah!" The Count stares at him with unblinking eyes.

The man holds himself steady, ready to move. The Count shouldn't have known that.

"Of course I knew!" the Count continued. "I am a master of numbers. In fact, that's why you're here!"

"I am-"

"You are the star of the show!"

"But I'm not an actor-"

"You are, Number 6! Ah ah ah! Now quick, put on that Six costume and get ready to sing when I count your number. And remember," suddenly the Count was very close and his teeth looked much sharper than before, "the eyes of the world will be watching!"