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Season One Finale “I… I didn’t think I’d-” Josh says, cut off by Eliza as he starts walking towards her. “Stop! Don’t come any closer!” Eliza shouts, holding the knife upwards at Josh, aiming with conviction in case necessary. Silence ensues as the two stand opposite each other, thinking very different thoughts. Finally, “Tell me it’s not true” says Eliza, fighting back tears and the urge to breakdown in the middle of what once was her kitchen.
“What’s not true?” Josh asks, noticing the tears being held back by the slimmest of margins, forcing him into feeling the pain he can tell Eliza is sharing with him. “Tell me you didn’t kill Warren, Josh…” “Eliza” Josh says, trying to inch closer with a somber tone of voice, only for his efforts to be shut down as Eliza propels the knife further into the air, stopping him in his tracks before demanding he answer the question. Defeated, tired of playing games involving dancing around the truth, Josh accepts the pain that he’s caused and puts an end to the lying. Throwing his hands in the air and dropping his shoulders, Josh responds. “I did.” No longer able to hold the tears back, Eliza keeps the knife pointed straight. “Who else” Eliza says through her broken voice, unable to say more than a few words together without falling apart. “E” Josh says before being cut off once more as Eliza screams the demanding question once more. “WHO ELSE!?” Shaking, both in terror of the circumstance and the knowledge that this moment is reality, Eliza awaits the response after whispering once more, again through a broken voice. “Who else, Josh?” Swallowing the spit in his mouth, Josh clears his throat and responds clearly. “Jeremiah Duane” He says, Eliza forcing her eyes shut, pouring out the tears over the lip of her eyelashes as Josh continues. “Captain Harold Devine...” Josh says, forcing Eliza’s eyes to break open, this time with shock. “I’m sorry” Josh mutters under his breath, words cloaked behind somber breaks for air. Looking on at the man in front of her, the knife in her hand trembling with the rest of her body, Eliza forces the bottom half of her jaw to rejoin with the top before shaking her head and slowly backing up towards the former front door. “Eliza wait” Josh says, reaching his hand out and attempting to walk up to her, only finding Eliza wavering the knife in the air with even more anticipation, demanding he keep his distance. “No! You stay away from me! Just… Just stay away!” “Eliza” responds under his breath, trying his absolute best to hide the heartbreak lingering in his heavy chest. “Stay. Away” Eliza repeats, backing beyond the hallway to her former place of comfort and retreat, cramming herself through the hole in the doorway and making a break for her car. Rushing down the driveway, Eliza reaches her vehicle just as Josh climbs his way through the broken in wooden board in time to watch the woman close the door behind herself and back away from the building. Watching on as the woman drives off, Josh finds himself collapsed into a seat on the gravel-filled driveway looking on at the tire tracks left behind in Eliza’s wake. *buzz buzz, buzz buzz* Phone ringing off the hook, Josh pulls it free from his denim pocket before raising it to his ear, answering with an anger filled, sadness-hiding “what?” | Police sirens ringing throughout the desolate, empty field-surrounded roadway manage to catch the attention of the freshly-removed lieutenant Devine as he drives along the hot asphalt fifty miles over the speed limit. Looking into his rear-view mirror, Devine smirks before lowering his speed to a gradual pace and pulling over to the side of the road. Finally coming to a rest just along the side of the road, Devine awaits the officer’s company with his hands fully visible on the steering wheel. After a few short moments, a deputy emerges from the vehicle and approaches Devine’s driver side window. “Lieutenant. Why are you doing this?” The officer asks, not carrying with him anything typical with a police stop. “I don’t want to give you a ticket or get you in trouble. I like working with you and I respect you as a man. I just don’t know why you’d throw everything you’ve worked for away like this.” Smiling with an evil, bastard-like grin is Devine, sat there unresponsive before picking his moment, licking his lips with a pop and tilting his head. “Why not, Officer…” Devine says, stopping himself to turn towards his drivers side window and look at the man’s badge and nameplate. Laughing to himself and turning back towards the road ahead, “Officer Daniels.” “The fact that you whiffed on one case doesn’t change the fact that you’ve hit the nail on the head with dozens of others. This one’s a minor speedbump in the road, it’s nothing to ruin your life over.” Smile removing itself from his face and being replaced with a look of resentment by the guilty party, Devine responds through a thick, gravelly tone. “I wasn’t the one that ruined my life” he says, still remaining in place with the same posture. “Joshua Lane was… He’s responsible for what’s happening with me. Blame him and start asking him these questions. I’ve got somewhere to be.” “Lieutenant, I can’t let you leave unless I know you’re going to be alright” The officer says, prompting another smile, this time of anticipation to overtake every other expression on Devine’s face as the lieutenant unclasps his seatbelt and opens his vehicle door, exiting and walking out into the field his car is parked beside. “10-33, Officer Lawrence Daniels requesting immediate assistance on Everling Road off Borbon Avenue. Routine traffic stop has the suspect walking off of the scene, no force is needed.” “Copy, 10-33. We’re sending the nearest unit to your location on Everling Road off Borbon Avenue. Please stand by” The radio behind Devine grows louder, signalling to him that Daniels is catching up to him, bringing about the return of his prior maniacal smile as the officer behind himself approaches faster. “Lieutenant!” The officer calls out, Devine not responding with words but rather by actions, putting his hand to a hidden holder in his pocket as the smile grows wider. One final time, the officer calls out “Lieutenant!” Towards the distressed man, reaching his hand out towards Devine having finally caught up, able to just barely rest his hand on Devine’s shoulder before the disgraced lieutenant quickly jolts around in Officer Daniels’ direction. Aimed directly at Devine’s half-door vehicle still steady on the side of the road, nothing out of the ordinary appears in the patrol unit’s dashcam footage. The sun shines brightly over the hills of a scenic, almost building-less section of outer New York, bringing about a look of peace and serenity. Finally, from nowhere, a blade skips across the hood of the patrol car, skidding across the road immediately thereafter before the sound of a door opening and closing proceed and succeed the sound of someone climbing into the driver’s seat. Keys into the ignition, the engine roars and the car begins to reverse, aimed in the direction of the field as a figure out in the distance staggers to its feet. Cloaked in his own blood, pooling from the gash in his throat contained behind the clutching-to-life hands of a man struggling to survive, Officer Daniels turns back to the road just as Devine puts the gas pedal to the floor, ripping through the grass of the field as the car bounces and skids along the hills of dirt before finally running down and mowing over Officer Daniels, jolting over his body as if it was just another path of dirt before finally coming to a stop. Opening the vehicle door, Devine steps out and looks just beyond the car, seeing the mangled corpse of his first true victim lying lifeless in it’s makeshift resting place. Reaching into his pocket, Devine dials in a number, one he has remembered by heart before placing the phone to his ear and awaiting a response. Finally after a few moments, he gets a one-word response from the other line. “Joshua Lane. It’s Eric Devine. Let’s finish this. There’s an abandoned factory just outside of Manhattan off Borbon street, take the back entry to avoid the cops. No guns. No knives. Just two men ready to put this chapter of life to bed. Be here in twenty. No excuses.” Without pause, Devine lays out the scene before abruptly hanging up in Lane’s face and returning to the driver’s seat of the patrol car, backing up over Officer Daniels’ body once more and driving towards his prior-intended destination, with the faint sounds of sirens beginning to ring within the area, setting the scene for the war ahead. | I feel gross. This charade I’m putting on is just getting old, and it’s disgusting me every second I look in the mirror. I’m putting an end to this hell that I’m living through… It’s not worth it. Eliza Bradburry is alive, not in the fashion she once was, but she’s alive somehow. Everything she’s know has hurt and caused more pain than anything else, but there’s still time to change that. And there’s no better place to begin than the one person that I think needs just as much hope as I do right about now. *Knock knock knock* A few moments go by as Eliza waits in the hallway outside of a random apartment complex door. After a few moments, she finally begins to hear footsteps resonating from inside, growing louder as the person inside inches closer to the door. Finally the light from within the apartment is allowed outside as the door is opened, with Jenn standing on the opposite end in total shock. “It’s… It’s you!” Jenn says through her hands, covering her mouth agape in surprise. “Hey Jenn” Eliza says, semi-defeated yet joyous to see her. “How’ve you been?” Eliza asks, smile starting to spread like a wildfire across her face as the joy begins to overpower the defeat. Finally, after a few moments, mostly wondering over whether everything in front of her was real or not, Jenn bursts through the door and wraps her arms around Eliza, who responds by doing the same. “I’m... Oh my fucking god, it’s you!” Jenn says, still in disbelief but placing it aside. “Where have you been? Everything’s been going to hell since you left!” Nodding, the defeat subtly creeping back in, Eliza responds “Yeah, I’ve seen” before looking into the apartment behind Jenn and noticing a news story on the television behind her. “What’s going on?” Eliza says, pointing at the television screen knowing that something is off before Jenn pulls her by the hand. “... It appears to be that the officer is being viewed as a disgruntled employee, do you have any new information on that?” The news anchor, stationed off-camera in a helicopter flying overhead an abandoned automotive factory begins breaking down whatever he can. “Yes, we can confirm that the New York Police Department have announced that the gunman inside is Lieutenant Eric Devine, recently coming off of working on the Warren Duane case that took the world by storm involving VeroSoft CEO Joshua Lane. It’s believed that the failure to convict Lane of Warren Duane’s murder muddied the waters on an already spiraling workrate for the Lieutenant. WTCB can also confirm that a body found a few miles away from the site belonging to an unnamed NYPD patrol officer is assumed to be the first kill of the lieutenant that really set all of these events off.” “I think I’m gonna be sick” Eliza says under her breath, with Jenn quickly retrieving and handing her a kitchen pot. After a few moments of silence between the two, Jenn points out a person in the background of the shot sneaking around officers and entering the building. “Look at that!” Jenn says, “They’re literally having to sneak inside!” Squinting towards the television, Eliza walks closer to the screen to get a better look. “That’s not a cop” Eliza says, noticing the t-shirt and lack of a tactical vest in addition to a gun being carried at the man’s side. “Who is it then?” Jenn asks, only for Eliza’s expression to go cold as the realization begins to linger over her. “I have to go” Eliza says, rushing for the front door as Jenn pleads for her to stop as she only recently got there. “Where are you going, E?” Jenn asks, rushing over to Eliza as she’s on the brink of tears. “E, what’s wrong?” Jenn asks, pulling Eliza in for a hug as the black-haired lady returns the favor. “I just can’t with this shit, Jenn. I’m tired of running” Eliza cries out, “You don’t have to anymore, E. You’re home now, you can move past it.” Shaking her head, Eliza pulls away from Jenn and looks her in the eyes. Hesitating for a moment, Eliza pushes the words out despite not wanting to say them. “Devine broke into my house the night the cops started telling people I was dead. He forced me to leave and killed another woman that looked like me to write a death certificate. And now Josh is going after him!” Completely thrown for a loop, yet everything somehow falling into making sense, Jenn struggles to find anything to say before asking, “Why is Josh going after Devine?” “Because Devine’s going after Josh” Eliza responds, confusing Jenn even further. “Why is Devine-” Jenn starts to ask, only for Eliza to cut her off in he tracks and shatter the ice into pieces if it wasn’t already broken to begin with. “Because Josh killed his father, Jenn.” Frozen in confusion, Jenn just stares at Eliza and asks, “Have you been drinking, E?” Grunting in aggravation, Eliza takes Jenn by the arms and responds. “Josh admitted to me that he killed Devine’s dad, and Warren, and Warren’s dad. He confessed to all of it. Right to my face. And Devine’s going to kill him if I don’t find out a way to stop him!” Turning to leave, Jenn calls out. “Why do you want to stop him? If he killed Devine’s dad, why do you want to protect him?” Before getting the chance to send herself flying over the lip of the stairs in the direction of the lobby door, Eliza throws herself around in anticipation of responding, only for the cat to latch onto her tongue and force her into an inability to respond. “Because I-” Eliza responds, shutting her mouth before uttering another syllable, Jenn brought to silence anticipating a response all whilst piecing everything together herself. “I…” Eliza stammers, still swirling words around in her head like she was tossing a salad, not liking many of the option available. “I… Care… I care about him” The struck woman says, forcing herself into admittance that the entirety of her life over the past near-year second-guessing herself and her allegiances, battling inside her own mind the differences between what is morally right and morally wrong has all lead up to accepting the fact that Josh is more significant and important to her than she may like to think. “There’s a piece of me that just fucking… I don’t know… Fits into place whenever he’s around. It’s sick and it’s fucked up, but it works and it fits.” Flipping the despair and shallow hatred into a fuel for her anger, Eliza stands firm, her left foot planted on the floor now still in much the same way to that of a statue. “And now I need to make sure he doesn’t get himself fucking killed.” Turning back around, Eliza rushes down the stairs and bursts through the lobby door, throwing herself into the New York streets without a care in the world as she leaps into her car and speeds off through the winding grids of New York traffic. | Through the hazy and low definition view of a mobile camera aimed directly at a large, powered down furnace, perspective is hard to come by until the camera grows still, slowly self-panning down to a scraped Eric Devine, armed to the tooth with automatic rifles one after another, broadcasting to the world over livestream on social media himself ducking from behind cover nearest one of the front windows of his current station. “Smart move to broadcast myself to the world? Welp… Probably not, but who gives a shit now, right? After all, there’s no way I leave this building alive, so I might as well have some fun with it. Now answer me this, my entrenched audience… What’s more fun than having one more good ole’ fashioned throwdown with a bitter rival before going out in a… blaze of glory? Huh?” Devine starts, slurring his words through the effects of the liquor he had drowned himself in minutes earlier knowing the end is near. “Let me tell you, my enamored friends” Devine starts, through the screen fly comments like “Die you sick fag” And “#JoshLaneIsGuilty” proving how polarizing the perspectives of the world’s population truly are regarding Warren Duane’s murder. “The answer is simple… Getting a load off of your chest now that you have the freedom to do… Exactly that.” Creeping around the spacious and hiding place-filled rooms and floors of the factories abandoned interior, Josh turns corners and ducks through open doors before hearing a barrage of officers turning corners in search for the deranged psychopath with a deathwish. I get the feeling this place wasn’t where Devine intended to go out, but it doesn’t surprise me that this was the kind of place he’d settle for. I know I’ve got some dark skeletons most people have no clue about, but that doesn’t change the fact that this place… The dust and the debris around every corner you turn… Just seems ironic for a final battleground. So many places to make a wrong move, or take a wrong step. It’s like a dream for anyone not only out of their right minds… But careless of whatever fate they find themselves facing. It’s such a Devine-like thing to do, and yet not at all just the same. Perhaps ironic is the wrong word… Poetic seems more justified and fitting. Disturbingly poetic. *buzz buzz buzz* Buzzing off once more, Josh removes his phone from his pocket and answers through whispers as he ducks behind a support column out of sight from anyone ahead. “Kinda busy, puppet master. What’s up?” “Lower the gun, Josh. You can’t risk stumbling into a off-beat situation. Remain calm, don’t look suspicious in case you meet someone other than Devine in that hell hole, got it? That’s the first part.” As mysterious and traditionally-untrustworthy as Josh’s guardian angel has been, he’s never steered the man wrong. He may be one of the most, if not the most important reason for why Josh is still walking as a free man, even if not in the most pleasing of areas. For that reason, Josh takes his guardian angel’s advice to heart, lowering his gun and tucking it into his pant-loop, draping his shirt over it and concealing any indication of looking for a fight. “Fine, what’s the second?” Josh responds, peaking over the corner to find five officers entering the manufacturing floor, guns drawn and searching every inch the space has to offer. “Look for alternative routes” The voice says, leaning on his glass countertop with his free hand planted firmly on the cold, reflective surface. “The more you stay out of sight from officers, the more you stay out of sight from Devine… Until you no longer want to, at least.” Looking around the room, Josh notices an open window directly below the ceiling nearly fifty feet in the air. “All I’ve got is a window above me. I don’t have any way to get to it” Josh responds, noticing the officers growing closer to his position. “Yes you do, Josh. You just need to think about it enough. Figure out your path, and then start following it.” Officers grow closer and closer, coming nearly inches away from the man around the support column, backed up to the side of the wall before finally turning the corner and finding nothing, freshly abandoned by the guardian angel-followed man, using his legs to bridge the gap between the column and wall as he inches his way further up, finally coming to the window and seeing an air duct primed for using. “You may be thinking-” Devine starts to say, being cut off by loud and resounding thuds resonating from a few doors away. “Hold off for a second… Got something that I need to take care of” Sprouting from his seat below the window and grabbing at whichever gun laid closest to his left, Devine marches to the entrance to his room and takes in a deep breath, throwing on a menacing and deranged smile before kicking the doorway to his fate in and raining a flurry of gunfire into a crowd of officers, puncturing them with one bullet after another before everything grows deathly silent, and the heap of humanity lay dead a few feet away from Devine’s feet. Taking a moment to gaze at his work, Devine lugs a wad of spit out over the corpses of those he had just massacred before returning to his room, pulling the door stuck and turning toward the window to unload the remainder of his clip into whatever he could down below outside. Turning to his phone, Devine smiles and shouts aloud, “Now… Where was I?” before a louder thud resonates from the room nearest to his, drawing a smile on Devine’s face rivaling that of Norman Bates. “Haven’t you fucks had enough?” Devine says aloud, grabbing another gun and marching back over to the door, only for the wooden blockade to come flying in as Josh crashes into the room, bringing Devine to the ground with a thunderous boom. “You son of a bitch!” Josh shouts amidst a struggle for power, wrestling with Devine on the ground whilst simultaneously reaching for his gun, only for a knee below the belt to take him off course and halt any hope of putting an end to this nightmare once and for all. Now with the upper hand, Devine tosses Josh from atop him to the ground beside in hopes of gaining the higher ground. Before anything can come from it, Josh pulls up his shirt and reaches for the handgun behind his belt loop, forcing Devine to retreat from the room, just narrowly avoiding the first shot as it grazes the cement wall inches away from what would have been Devine’s head. Turning his head to the stash of guns and ammunition beside him, Josh takes a further glance at the phone lying on the ground before picking it up and holding it to his face. “The show’s over everyone. Sorry to disappoint” Josh declares before cutting off the stream and tossing the phone from the window above. | Stationed outside of the factory, officers armed to the teeth cover behind concrete walls and security booths trying to remain out of Devine’s sights. Suddenly, a car driving towards the building begins kicking up dirt like a wildchild just beyond the officers, drawing their attention as a car with a white flag waving in the breeze from just outside of the drivers window glides onto the factory grounds before coming to a grinding stop, with the officers helpless to do anything in attempt to avoid gunfire. Emerging from the vehicle is Eliza, careless about the potentially hostile and on-edge officers just behind her as she rushes up to the factory door, prying it open and disappearing into the complete unknown with the completely stunned beyond logic officers left behind their cover in a sea of confusion. | “Come here you son of a bitch!” Josh shouts, his demands bouncing around the concrete building structure through echoes of resentment. “You wanted a fuckin’ fight, you’ve got one you merry fucking retard. FIGHT ME!” Josh continues, marching forward before noticing the sounds of his steps no longer sounding like shifting through sand, but now sounding like the taps of walking through puddles as he takes a second to stop and acknowledge his surroundings. Immediately below his feet lays a pool of gasoline, all leading to a lighter-wielding Devine at the back of the room. “My pleasure, Josh!” Devine says proudly, lowering his hand to the gasoline ahead of him and lighting it ablaze, forcing Josh to rush off out of the room and into a neighboring office room just out of reach of the flames, not even touching the soles of shoes as the remainder of the room separating himself from Devine goes up in a fireball much the same as an explosion. *buzz buzz buzz* Ringing in his pocket, Josh’s guardian angel earns his attention again as he takes his phone and listens in. “The elevator to your left, Josh” the man on the other line shouts briefly before hanging up, careful to not take away any valuable time from the man on a mission. Turning to the left, Josh notices the elevator and pries open the small metal doors to reveal a cable line traveling up the length of the building. Taking his opportunity, Josh leaps from the lip of the floor and latches himself on the line, pulling himself higher before finally reaching the next floor up, where he’s met with an open elevator door. Collapsing into the next floor, Josh stands to his feet as he sees a figure disappear around a corner and decides to chase after it. Gaining ground, Josh rushes forward in a fit of anger before turning the same corner himself and coming to a sudden stop. “Eliza!?” Josh shouts, gaining the attention of the woman ahead of him, who turns around to face him with a smile. “What are you doing here!?” Josh asks, a worried mess as the woman ahead of him simply runs up to him and dives into his arms, tears flooding from her eyes as her arms wrap around the man she’s finally realized is too much of a part of her for her to let go of without letting go of herself. Ripped from the moment of anger-filled, murder-desiring rage, Josh responds by wraping his arms around the woman, broken beyond what even she can recognize. Having broken away from his mindset for a few brief moments, Josh pulls Eliza away from himself and asks her once more why she’s here. “I’m not going to let Devine kill you, Josh” She says, staying brief and sticking to the point. “He’s not going to stop until he kills you and I won’t let that happen. We need to go now.” Reaching out, Eliza takes Josh by the hand and leads him to a fire exit at the end of the room. After a moment of allowing himself to be pulled forward, Josh stops, relenting any move further as Eliza turns to face the man she aims so greatly to save. “I’m not going anywhere, Eliza” Josh says, looking into her eyes before repeating it once more, assuring her that he’s serious. “Josh, he’s going to kill you. We need to get you out of here and let the cops handle it!” Eliza pleads, only for Josh to pull away once more, refusing to leave Devine behind to fall victim to his own actions. “No, Eliza!” Josh shouts before standing in place and putting his foot down. “I’m not letting the cops handle anything, Eliza! They can;t be trusted! The guilty always get away with their crimes as long as they’ve got a fat wallet or a recognizable face and I won’t fucking have it!” Shocked by his words, even despite being aware of his belief in the matter, Eliza is stunned to silence, only able to muster a few words in response. “They’ll… They’ll punish the people that deserve it. You know that! Deep down, you know that they will!” Eliza pleads, completely overtaken by tears of sadness as Josh continues to refuse moving any further. “No, no they won’t!” Josh shouts, trying to assure Eliza that this doesn’t end unless he puts the stop to it himself. “I already made him a promise! I’m going to kill him!” Josh screams, noticing Eliza’s sadness turn into blistering anger. “You don’t have to kill him!” Eliza says, trying to argue her case louder than Josh can, “That’s not who you are!” Knowing the lack of truth in her words, Eliza still says them in hopes that, by some miracle, they’ll become true. “Yes it is, E! It’s always been who I am!” Josh screams, this time being met with a scream of Eliza’s own. “It doesn’t have to be who you are! You can change, Josh!” The argument is halted briefly as the sound of shooting flames begins rising through the elevator shaft and wafting around the building, the heat shortly following thereafter. “No I can’t, E! No one changes, they’ll always be the same! I can’t change and I won’t change, E!” Arguing with herself on the inside, Eliza is brought to silence as the moral dilemma she debated like warfare in her mind for months over end is finally spoken loud and clear by someone other than herself… No one changes. And if Josh meant what he had said, and he truly believed in the words he was unleashing into the world like a harsh punishment, then he was giving credence to Eliza’s internal debate over whether or not Josh was a monster. Still refusing to believe that the man she finds herself so thrown around by is anything short of human, Eliza shakes the notion off and takes Josh’s face in her hands. “You can if you believe that you can do better. If you can believe that the right thing can happen without interfering in its outcome.” Shaking his head as it stays resting in her hands, Josh responds. “No. I can’t, Eliza. The justice system is fucked and it fails to bring what’s coming to bad people over and over again” Stoping him in his tracks, Eliza interrupts him. “You don’t know that!” Eliza pleads, only for Josh to disagree. “How do you know it’ll fail Devine?” Eliza asks, only for Josh to cut her off in a surprisingly self-aware moment. “Because it failed me, E.” Stunned into silence as the heat begins becoming more noticeable as the sweat begins to pour down their faces. “Because I should be in prison right now, and I’m not. I didn’t even need to use money. I had a face that people knew and didn’t want to lock up. If it can fail me, it can fail anyone… And it will. It will over and over and over again, E.” Leaning in close to her face, Josh looks her in the eyes and whispers. “I can’t let it happen this time, E.” Closing her eyes and leaning her forehead against his, Eliza takes in these moments before being ripped from her embrace to them as Josh notices his moment and suddenly pulls away from her, rushing for the door to the room and closing it behind him, locking it shut by placing a chair against the knob. “JOSH!” Eliza shouts, with Josh placing his hand against the glass directly opposite of Eliza’s. “I’m sorry, E. Get to the ground right now before it’s too late. I need to do this” Josh says, pulling away from the door as Eliza continues to scream his name from beyond the heavy metal barrier between herself and the one soul she wishes to save more than any other. Eliza is forced to stand there as Josh disappears behind a corner, remaining there as smoke finally begins to seep into the room, clouding everything around the woman as she locks herself in place. Maybe Josh is right. Maybe I’ve been forcing myself to refuse to admit the truth. Maybe I care about him too much to let go. It would rip me apart, but maybe it’s best for me to let him go in the long term. Maybe I’m supposed to. Maybe this is how it’s all supposed to work. Maybe Josh is a monster… Maybe I’m the only one that should be able to tame him, but just… can’t. Maybe this is supposed to be how it happens. But there’s one thing that I know for sure is not meant to be a ‘maybe’. Reaching behind her back, Eliza retrieves a small revolver and uses it to shatter the glass window of the door ahead of her, allowing for an entrance into the rest of the building. Even if they’re evil incarnate... I can’t let him hurt anyone else. Climbing through the shattered remains of what was once the glass window, Eliza escapes the confines of the room and disappears beyond the same corner as Josh, going after him as he aims to keep the promise he once made with such poise and assurance. | “DEVINE!” Josh shouts throughout the office floor of the factory, noticing the smoke from an enraging inferno just below beginning to find its way through cracks and crevases further in the building, taking whatever oxygen it can get in order to continue imposing its will. Gun drawn as each step he takes brings him closer to the unknown, Josh storms through entry ways and surveys corners in hopes of stumbling across the disgraced officer and handing him the justice he deserves to meet. “DEVINE!” Josh shouts once more into the far distance, hoping this game of fucked up Marco Polo will bring him closer towards his goal. Finally, Josh is taken off of his feet and tackled over cold metal desks, dropping to the floor along with Devine, able to use this distraction to send the firearm from Josh’s hand off into the remainder of the room. “HA!” Devine shouts in an out-of-breath fit, climbing to his feet as Josh does the same, leaning against a desk directly eye to eye with a craze-filled Devine. “I knew you’d be back, Joshua!” Devine says with a smile, shaking his head as he savors the moment. “You’re too stubborn to stay away. The fire was merely to… Get the mood going!” Devine laughs, eying Josh like a hawk as the controversy-surrounded executive picks his moments, remaining leaned against the desk finally having his chance to confront Devine. “One for the theatrics, huh? This whole thing has the stench of narcissistic desire.” Noticing Josh’s emphasis on the term stench, Devine plays along to Josh’s every whim. “Oh really? Which narcissistic desire are you referring to? Because I have plenty.” Cracking a smile, Josh answers. “For your final moments to be enriched with all of this pageantry and spectacle. You know you’re going to die today and you want to make sure you give yourself your own viking funeral in the most fabulous of ways. It’s sad. You know that no one will do it for you, so you have to do it yourself.” Devine’s smile turns into a grin, eyebrows lowered as he allows Josh to continue. “That’s why you’re so driven to convict me for something. No one else would even dare point the finger at one of New York’s untouchables… So you needed to point it yourself. You didn’t want it to be you and the NYPD, or you and the Pipeline family. No… No no no, you wanted it to be you and you alone. We wouldn’t be here otherwise.” Nodding in agreement, Devine takes his hands from the desk and begins clapping as the sound of flames shooting through air vents act as an artificial applause. “Well done, Josh. You really have it all figured out.” Shaking his head at the sarcasm in Devine’s voice, Josh walks away from the desk and further into the building, keeping his eye locked onto Devine. “Did it ever occur to you that you’re not the problem solving hero you make yourself out to be? Perhaps you didn’t really know everything but were instead pulling the strings?” Swallowing whatever spit his mouth is moist enough to make, Josh tilts his head as his eyes remain locked on the deranged nutcase ahead of him like an audience to a stalling passenger plane. “What do you mean?” Josh asks, with Devine smiling enthusiastically as a response, walking up to Josh slowly, each inch disappearing between them mirroring that of someone inching closer to their fate. “A need for the theatrics and pageantry you said, right? Well, it takes one to know one, wouldn’t you say?” Looking at the man, Josh squints his eyes and looks on at Devine, responding “I’m nothing like you.” This response only further enticing Devine, allowing his smile to become comic-like as the irony begins slipping into both men’s minds, one living for it and the other struggling disgustingly hard to refuse it. “But I think you are… At least you should be… To you.” Inching closer, Devine continues speaking, closing the distance between himself and Josh, and noticing the hesitation for Josh to start any kind of struggle in hopes of getting an answer to the question Devine has laid out. “You think that you’re this perfect little vigilante. Cleaning up every bit of the disgraced that New York offers without a trace. But I must ask you, why are they the disgusting ones in your eyes, Josh?” Off at the end of the room, something sneaks by an open doorway and crouches down behind a concrete slab. There, Eliza draws her gun and leans her head out from cover, watching on as the two men in the center of the room hash it out, waring with peace before the final war begins. “You’re filth. You and everyone else that I’ve killed have all done something wrong, Devine. You all get away with it because of who you are and the money to your name. You don’t get what you deserve the proper way, so there have to be corners cut in order to give you what you truly deserve.” Without hesitation, Josh concludes his statement by cutting the distance between himself and Devine further, storming up to the man and getting in his face, knowing that Devine won’t start any fight thinking he has Josh wrapped around his finger. “Warren Duane operated a human trafficking ring right under your nose, his father started the whole thing to begin with and your father…” Cutting himself off, Josh notices Devine’s smile turn into one of anger-fueled anticipation, awaiting the explanation he never got. On the other hand, Josh finds his own smile growing as the shooting flames drowning out any chance for silence in the building only build to the tension in the air he himself is omitting with every breath Devine is forced to take without getting an answer. Finally, after a few subtle laughs under his breath, Josh concludes. “Well, amongst other things… He had you.” Concluding his statement with a smile and a wink, Josh watches Devine’s face grow angry, knowing that Devine realizes he no longer holds the power in this game of mental chess. Upon this realization, Devine flips the game of chess from that of mental ability into one of physical, throwing a punch at Josh that the internally-battled man ducks before laying in a kick to the gut before a shove over yet another desk. Looking around the room, Josh finally spot his gun laying against the wall beside the window overlooking a room completely overtaken by flames. Marching forward, Josh is caught off guard when Devine leaps from the desk and onto him, taking him to the ground before aiming for strikes. At the end of the room, Eliza sneaks out from behind cover to get a better shot in case need be as Josh levels Devine with a headbutt, throwing him off before crawling to the gun. After gaining a few yards closer to the firearm, Josh finds himself overtaken by Devine, who crawls atop him and begins wrapping his hands around Josh’s throat as Josh reaches up, aiming at whatever part of Devine’s face he can grab at to ease him off. “You’re just as fucked as the rest of us, Joshua!” Devine shouts through grunts, smiling as Josh’s face begins to grow more red with each breath spat back out from his own lungs. “And now you’re gonna get the justice you deserve!” Out of desperation, Josh finds a way to reach high enough to press his fingers into Devine’s eye sockets, little by little until finally having enough strength in him to toss the lunatic off. Crawling further to the gun, Josh is forced to roll out of the way of a flying chair sent hurling through the air by Devine, skipping off of the ground before leaping back into the air, shattering a window on the way down to the ground below, sending the first responders below into a fit Finally reaching to the wall, Josh grasps at the gun before taking aim at Devine, not quick enough to avoid the kick in the face that sends the handgun flying from his grip and into the middle of the room. Smiling, Devine begins marching towards it before coming to a halt as the drywall to the office room begins burning, the fire beginning to make its presence fully known to the two combatants in the arena. All coming together, Devine is brought to tears of joy as everything finds itself working according to his fucked up plan. Finally, Devine is thrown from the center of the room into a pile of discarded desks stacked one atop the other. As he collapses to the ground, the stack below begins to shift and two heavy metal desks slide down from atop the pile like an avalanche, pinning Devine to the ground as the cracking of his ribs beneath the heavy metal weight become the only thing louder than the inferno. Blood coming from his mouth, Devine struggles to breath as he squeezes from beneath his assumed makeshift resting place and stammers to his feet, turning back towards Josh before being cracked over the head with the end of the gun Josh wavers proudly in his hand. Falling backwards, Devine collapses into the desk pile, sat atop one whilst resting against another leaning precariously against a less-than-sturdy section of drywall. Clutching at his head, the pressure of his hand containing the blood draining from it, Devine looks up and subconsciously clears away a daze to find Josh standing over him, gun aimed directly at his face. With whatever strength he can muster, Devine chuckles through a smile, blood covering his near-perfectly white teeth as he realizes what awaits him. “You’ll get yours Josh. Don’t you worry about that.” Smiling at the man defeated by his position, Josh’s hand grows steady, his cold and callous way of thinking takes over as a fourth readies to be struck from his list. “Go ahead, Lane. Pick your poison. We’re all monsters here… we get it.” Still overlooking from behind cover, Eliza watches Josh wave the gun in Devine’s face as a look of helplessness consumes her, and tears begin falling from her face as she accepts the action her hand is forced to do. Lifting the gun into the air, Eliza creeps out from behind cover out of sight from either men and takes aim at Josh. Hands shaking, lips quivering, Eliza’s finger slowly inches from the side of the gun to the trigger, ready to pull. Finally, after moments of nothing pull at heartstrings like a sad movie with a depressing ending, Josh utters one word. “No.” Quivering lips no more, eyes shot open like a cannon, that one word sends Eliza into shock as Devine’s eyes come to a squint, baffled at Josh’s answer. “No?” Devine asks, almost angered by the response. “I already made you a promise, Devine… But some promises were designed to be broken eventually.” Maybe I’m a monster. Perhaps I’ve done more than just do bad things. But I want to live a life that I can be proud of, and I thought killing the people that deserved more than what they got away with was going to help me do just that... But maybe there’s also an alternative. Another way to be proud of who you are and be proud of the work you do. Maybe there’s another way to be happy that I just haven’t found yet. Maybe I’m not ready to admit that people can change. Maybe I’m not ready to let whatever happens… Happen. But if I want to try… If I want to have hope that all of that can change… I need to be willing to try. Perhaps this is the right start. “I’m not going to kill you” Josh says, his finger sliding away from the trigger as it remains aimed at Devine, keeping him in place. “I can be your judge, Devine. I can find you guilty in my own fucking head, and maybe I can do that as your jury, too… But I know what I won’t do.” Josh says, lowering the gun immediately thereafter before concluding. “I won’t be your executioner.” Turning around to walk away amidst a room quickly filling with smoke and attempting to wipe away the blood pouring from his nose, Josh walks off with the gun to his side as Eliza watches on with a smile of hope. “Enjoy prison, Devine. That’s what you deserve” Josh says, feeling grown as a person having vanquished his demons on his way towards escaping the building burning beneath his feet a changed man, not a monster, but a man. Still smiling, Eliza’s eyes are taken from Josh as she notices Devine crawl off of the desk and start stumbling towards Josh, armed with a jagged drawer handle. “Can’t kill me Josh?” Devine shouts, forcing Josh to turn and face the man growing closer and closer. “Fine… THEN I’LL KILL YOU!” Devine shouts, lifting his hand into the air and rushing forward with the handle clutched into his hand. *bang bang bang* Three shots ring off as blood begins to spit from Devine’s abdomen, each shot bringing with it more force before the third finally brings the handle to drop from his hand as he slowly collapses to the ground in front of Josh, Eliza being revealed directly behind him to the changed man as Devine drops. After a moment of silence with smoke beginning to engulf the room, the two begin walking towards each other before finally rushing into each other’s arms and falling to the ground in a joyous heap. “I told you to go! I wanted you to get out of here alive!” Shrugging off the notion, Eliza swipes away the hair from Josh’s face before responding, “There’s no point in being alive anymore without you…” Starting to cough harshly as the smoke begins to fill her lungs, Eliza concludes as the sound of windows shattering begins to surround the room as the flames begin to rise. Looking into Josh’s eyes as best she can through the dark smoke, Eliza finishes. “I know that now.” Smile on both of their faces, the two embrace in the center of the room as the smoke finally becomes too thick to see through and the sound of the building crumbling and buckling beneath its own rings resoundingly throughout the hollow shell of Lieutenant Eric Devine’s final resting place. | *beep beep beep* Jesus fucking christ, if that machine doesn’t shut up I’ll die out of stubborness. Opening his eyes to a number of bright lights including that of the sun directly to the right of him, Josh awakens from another mostly sleepless night in the hospital beside the most annoying method of gaging his heartbeat imaginable to him at this very moment. Leaning over in his bed, Josh presses the red button on his bedside remote before placing his hands behind his head and simply waiting. After a few seconds, the door to his room glides open and directly through walks Becca, charming smile overtaking her face as she carries with her a clipboard and a pen. “I figured it’d be your first request upon waking up so I prepared ahead of time” The woman says, handing the board over to Josh, taking it in his hands along with the pen. “Second” Josh says, “It was going to be the second.” Smirking, Becca responds sweetly “She’ll be signing out later tonight, Josh. Don’t you worry, Ms. Bradburry will be just fine.” Smiling, Josh looks down at the clipboard and places his signature directly on the line intended before handing it back over to the beautiful woman in front of him. “Now, about that date thing we were talking about earlier?” Becca says sarcastically before turning around heading for the exit. As she reaches out to place her thumb on the screen, she hears Josh’s voice call out behind. “How’s Friday work?” Josh asks, prompting Becca to turn back around and face him. “I do owe you on that raincheck, so how does Friday sound?” Josh says further, earning a smile over Becca’s face as she lowers her thumb onto the screen to allow the door to slide open. Turning forward and exiting the room, she turns around and answers just before the door slides closed. “It’s a date.” Smiling in his bed, Josh crawls free from it before walking over to the dresser and removing his clothes and belongings from it. Walking free from his room and through the hospital lobby, Josh looks towards another room and locks eyes with Eliza, sitting in her hospital bed with a smile on waving at the man bound for freedom. With a smile on his face, Josh waves back before finally leaving the hospital to a sea of cameras and paparazzi. “Mr. Lane, the internet is buzzing with empathy for you after all these months of being targeted and framed by Lieutenant Devine for crimes you were innocent of, what is your reaction to this outpour of support from people calling you a hero?” One man with a camera asks, prompting Josh to take notice. Thinking to himself, Josh hides what he truly wants to say in favor of something simple and to the point. “I’m thankful to move on with my life. No further questions, please.” Walking off, Josh enters the car he had pulled around for him before removing his phone from his pocket at the sound of its buzzing. 1 New Message: Puppet Master: Stay safe. We’re not in the clear yet. Enjoy the chance to take a breather. We’ll talk soon.” Pressing the notification on his phone, Josh edits the puppet master’s information to change his name from “Puppet Master” in his contact list to “Guardian Angel.” Placing the phone into the cup holders off to his right, Josh takes a moment to breath a sigh of relief before placing his hand on the steering wheel and driving off into the New York city life. | “Hello you and welcome, my name is Mike and in today’s ole’ video, we’re going to look at something pretty recent that you’ve most likely heard a ton about… Like… A ton. We’re taking a look at Lieutenant Eric Devine and the case of Warren Duane, which, if you haven’t heard, includes a lot about Joshua Lane, the old CEO of one VeroSoft Industries. Yeah, pretty crazy stuff! So without further ado, let’s jump right into it…” Night falls over New York and its backwoods like a blanket of peace, bringing relief to a year filled with tremendous chaos and insanity. A stop-gap in a world so completely shattered into pieces just beyond the grasp of one’s own ability to contain it. Through the backstreets of New York, Josh drives under the light of the stars directly above whilst briefly gazing down at his phone after every few seconds after turning off the video playing throughout the speakers of his car. On his phone is a picture of a document reading “Where you find difficult entry is where it lies. The Pipeline. Hidden in plain sight as to avoid the obvious glance.” Looking up from his phone as he drives onto a bridge, he notices someone off ahead of him on the opposite side of the protective wall. Noticing a problem, Josh slows down and comes to a stop, putting his car in park before exiting his vehicle and slowly walking over the individual in distress. “Ma’am?” Josh asks, watching as the woman’s hair flows with the gentle breeze accompanying the wave of her silk-like white dress. “Ma’am. I’m Josh, I don’t mean to scare you. Can we talk, please?” “There’s no point. I’m done talking” the woman responds, lightening her grip on the metal guardrails of the protective walls before tightening them once again at the sound of Josh’s voice. “Please, I know what it’s like. Not being happy. Not wanting to do this anymore. I’ve felt it before, all of it. I’m still here.” After a moment of nothing, no response and no movement, the gravel shifting beneath Josh’s feet ring loude than normal as he starts inching closer to her. “You’ve seen your demons, Josh? Have you killed them like you killed your victims?” Suddenly caught off guard, Josh is stunned silent as the woman continues, Josh doesn’t make another step forward. “I know you’ve killed people, Josh. They’re haunting you the way mine haunt me.” Throwing his thoughts around inside of his head like a broken record, Josh settles down and comes clean. “I have killed people. You’re right. I’ve done bad things” Josh says, inching closer to her, now extending his arm out to hers. “But they don’t haunt me anymore.” Finally inching close enough to her to place his hand on hers, Josh continues. “I’ve admitted my crimes aloud. The demons went away because I was strong enough to admit that I had done bad things to people… I’ve cleaned my slate… And now I’m moving on the same way that you can.” Removing her second hand from the metal guard rail to place it over Josh’s on her opposite hand, the woman closes her eyes and lets one purple tear fall from her eyelids before responding. “You haven’t cleaned your slate, Joshua. And I can’t move on until you do…” Confused, Josh uses his free hand to tuck the woman’s soft and sultry hair behind her ear before asking her, “How would you know that?” After a brief pause, the woman removes both of her hands from the barrier and holds Josh’s hand in the air. “Because, Joshua…” Turning around, the woman comes face to face with Josh and opens her eyes, revealing the peraly-white, lifeless eyes Josh now sees Nora sporting as the woman holds his hand in the air before concluding… “You killed me, too…” Frozen in fear, Josh trembles as he watches Nora smile a grin from hell still sporting the white eyes before she slowly falls backwards, finally gaining enough velocity to drop from the bannister, still holding Josh’s hand as she takes him down to the freezing waters below with her. Hand still gripped firmly in the woman’s hand, Josh watches Nora’s smile every inch he falls further down before he and the girl with the winter snow eyes crash into the rushing waters below, disappearing below the surface as it closes up above them, burying them within the crisp and bitter white waves as the night remains unchanged.
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“Joshua Lane is a good man. He always come in for the same coffee, always made the same way. Medium dark roast, sometimes with two sugars. He’ll take any moment out of his day to have a conversation with you if you ask him to, because that’s the kind of man that he is. He’s a good man. He’s kind hearted and he’s always got the purest of intentions to him. It’d be an injustice to the world to put that kind of good hearted, rarely seen good soul behind bars.” - Lou Benson, entrepreneur.
“He’s got a heart of gold. Nothing you could ever do would piss him off, he always tries to understand where someone is coming from. I can’t even begin to tell you how often he’s helped me get home from the bar safely. I remember one time I called him the morning after I got wasted and I found his shirt on my bedroom floor. I called him and asked him if everything was alright, and he told me that he gave me his shirt after I threw up on mine in the taxi home. It was the middle of winter, and he went home shirtless. He literally gave me the shirt off my back. There’s no way in hell that he’d ever get himself into this kind of trouble. You can’t charge him of a crime that he not only couldn’t have done, but a crime that most privileged people have done worse than and still paid their way out of trouble for. That’s just not right.” - Jennifer Catherine, former Secretary for VeroSoft Industries. “Josh stopped at my cart one day before one of shows and talked to me about not having much joy early in life. I told him about my hopes to carry on my fathers legacy, trying to do the things he never got the chance to do and make him proud, and Josh sympathized with me. He even left a massive tip. Just being around my cart brought other people in. There wasn’t another slow moment for the rest of the day! He didn’t have to stop, he didn’t need to talk to me. Plenty of others don’t. Most people don’t try to be good, or even make an effort to seem like they are. The people that do are genuine, and Josh is one of the people that do. I’m thankful to have had that encounter with him, I’m grateful for it every day.” - Fred Zimbre, entrepreneur. *Crack crack crack* “Time for deliberation is over. May I ask the jury to rise” The judge calls from the head of the courtroom, Josh and his lawyer in a suit and tie awaiting the verdict. “How does the jury find the defendant, Mr. Joshua Lane on count one of murder in the first degree?” The judge asks, prompting Josh’s eyes to pan over to bench. “We the jury find the defendant, Mr. Joshua Lane not guilty on count one of murder in the first degree.” Both subtle cheering and sighing of relief emanate from around the courtroom, including from Josh himself as the remaining verdicts are announced. “Not guilty” “Not guilty” “Not guilty” “Not guilty” “Not guilty” “Not guilty” “Not guilty” Every count regarding Warren Duane and all other minor infractions against Joshua Lane are wiped clean, and the saga of Josh and the prior months of his life are finally put to bed. Walking from the courtroom, Josh and his lawyer embrace and shake hands as people swarm out of the cramped hot box like a flood through broken levees. The past eight months have been a whirlwind of emotions. House arrest hasn’t been fun, especially not in the cramped luxuries of a New York style apartment. But the most important thing is that I’ve exorcised my demons and laid them to rest. I’m innocent. I have my well-hidden truths, yes, but in the public’s eye, I haven’t done anything wrong. And I know that, too. Deep down, I know that whatever I’m guilty of, I was right in doing so. Bad people need to be stopped, and the law won’t allow them to be the stopped as long as power outweighs what’s morally right. The best hope I or anyone can have is that there will always be people like me, willing to do what’s necessary, to make sure justice is truly served the weigh it was meant to. “Joshua Lane?” A voice calls out from across the courtroom, the young and well-dressed man turns to greet it. “Yes, that would be me” Josh responds, all smiles and relief. “You must be relieved” the woman states, dark tinted sunglasses covering her eyes. “You have no idea. I’m just glad what’s done is done and there’s a chance to continue doing the work I’ve found success in for this long.” “I bet” the woman says, her expression growing cold and frigid. Taking notice of the woman’s demeanor, Josh’s smile fades as his eyes narrow. “Are you okay, ma’am?” Josh asks, the woman, smirking through the corner of her mouth responds. “I will be.” After a pause, Josh takes concern with the woman. “Is everything okay?” Josh asks, stepping towards the woman. *Pop Pop Pop* Three shots ring through the air, bouncing off of the stone and concrete pillars surrounding the courthouse, dropping Josh to the ground in a heap as the woman rushes off further into the courtroom and Josh’s lawyers tend to his body, losing blood over the green and white tiles of the courthouse floor as guards and medical responders tend to the wounded man. | Augh… Fuck… There are moments where you’re glad that hospitals are as clean and pristine as they look on TV. Everything’s sparkling white from the floors to the blinds covering the windows. Waking up for your 7am breakfast delivery is not one of those times. “Good morning Mr. Lane. Here you are” The hospital nurse says, laying a tray of food out over the desk tucked over the sore and aching Josh. “Thank you, Becca. I appreciate it” Josh responds, trying desperately to power himself up into a seated position, grunting along with the shooting pain of the hole in his abdomen until his arms refuse to bare the load, dropping him back into his bed as a result. “Let me help, Mr. Lane.” Walking along his bedside, Becca holds her arms out, propelling Josh forward through the pain below. “Thank you” Josh responds through breaths, being met with a smile from the nurse, walking towards the door before being halted in her tracks. “Do you like what you do?” Josh asks from across the room, prompting Becca to take notice and turn back into his direction. Standing beside his question, “I mean… Do you enjoy coming to work? Is there something about it that… Makes you want it… Or not?” Slowly inching her way back into the room, the young woman moves around the clutter in her mind to find an adequate response. “I love helping people. I love being able to make someone’s life better… And making sure they can go back to doing what they love.” Pausing for a moment, catching his breath and looking her in the eyes, “What if they’re bad people? If they’ve done bad things?” Josh asks. Walking towards him, Becca takes a seat in the chair at his bedside. “Just because people do bad things, doesn’t make them a bad person. At least not to me. There’s a reason they have for doing things that we don’t all understand. Whether that’s a good reason or not is up for debate. But they’re a human being just as the rest of us are. And human beings need help sometimes. All of them. Even the ones that do bad things.” Suddenly, the pager on Becca’s hip begins going off, alerting her of her presence being needed. “We’ll talk more later if you’d like. Eat your breakfast and don’t try any funny business anymore, alright?” Heading off towards the door, Becca disappears into the crowded hallway, leaving Josh to his vices and his pancakes. | “Good morning. We open this morning with new information regarding the attempted assassination of Joshua Lane, the former CEO of VeroSoft who was shot by an unnamed female outside of a Manhattan courtroom immediately after being found not guilty in the murder of former VeroSoft chairman Warren Duane. Police say the suspect has finally been identified as 24 year old Julianna Hoffman, a real estate agent in the greater New York area. It is suggested that she may be driving a white 2010 Nissan Altima with the license plate “OEP-324. If you have any information regarding Julianna or that vehicle, you’re urged to contact the FBI hotline or the New York Police Department.” The past nine months have been long, and they have been hard. No contact with the outside world other than a little bit of light grocery shopping. No way to get in touch with anyone I’ve trusted, even discreetly. Isolation was fun in the beginning… It felt fresh and needed. Now it just hurts. But it was necessary. It was necessary for myself to find it within me to accept the good and the bad of each side of the story. It took some time… I won’t lie. It was hard to look at the news and not want to cry uncontrollably. The only person I could look at, knowing all of his flaws and all of his strengths… And still be completely enamored by. A man that I knew had some good in him… And a man that I knew also had a lot of bad. I didn’t know what to feel. What to think. It was all a blur. Late night after late night trying to figure out whether or not Joshua Lane was a man or a monster. Whether Lieutenant Eric Devine was a man or a monster. Whether this Julianna Hoffman chick was a sinner or a saint. Whether Warren Duane deserved what he got or not. Everything I had believed in was thrown in a salad tosser and spun until it hurt. Shattered and glued back together. I didn’t know what to think. Am I the woman I was a little under a year ago? Nope. Not at all. I share some similarities, but I’m farther gone than even I realize. I’m not the girl draped in some silly dress outside of a company party all hell-bent on kissing the ass of the murderous-CEO. The true anti-hero the world needs an example of every few months or so. I’m not the woman trying to get to the bottom of things, piecing them together and giving out the book to the people willing to take down the problems with New York that joshua was aiming to take out. I’m not the woman ready to cover a soft interior with a hard, bulletproof shell. Am I intoxicating? Yeah, of course the fuck I am. That girl was likable. Even if she was a bitch, there was something to see in her. There was a smile or so tucked away that people would have rooted for her to show every once in a while. There was something to like. There’s not anymore. What sense would that make? Out of the blue, all in what felt like a matter of a few minutes, the man you were about to throw up attempting to ask on a date is revealed to be a murderous psychopath by a corrupt cop that broke into your house and killed a woman in your kitchen all in the process of telling you to fuck off and never come back. Why would that be okay? Why would I be okay? I shouldn’t be. And I’m not. Why is that not okay? … Because I won’t let it be. Storming through the front door of her neck-of-the-woods cabin, Eliza scurries down the dirt path to the front gates and hurls it open, sending it back with a resounding thud, the kind of metal clashing against a mirror image of itself dancing through the trees as an echo in the woods. Turning back, Eliza salutes the cabin and places a chain around the gates, locking it together and walking out to her car. Placing down a backpack in the passenger seat, Eliza injects the keys into the ignition like heroine into a vein before powering the car on and backing out of the lot, heading down the pathway to the nearest backroads whilst leaving behind a sign on the front lawn of the gates. “Closed for the Summer. Will be back in the fall. Beware. Dangerous bitch inside.” | “Mr. Lane?” A voice calls from beyond the door to his hospital room, waking Josh from his sleep. “There’s a visitor here to see you” The woman says, backing away from the archway to allow the visitor through. You fucking cocksucker. “Joshua Lane. It’s good to finally talk with you. Glad to see your recovery coming along.” The voice, gravely in nature comes walking through in the hospital room, taking a seat in the chair beside Josh. “Devine. I swear to god. I’ll fucking kill you.” Laughing as he removes his jacket from his off-duty casual streetwear, Devine leans back in the seat and kicks his feet up onto Josh’s leg, placing his hands behind his back. “How’s the rehab been, sport?” Silent, Josh refuses to respond as Devine remains seated there, smug and vile. “Silent game, Lane? You sure you don’t have any questions for me? Anything I can clear up, something like, updates on the whole assasination investigation?” Biting his lip and placing his head back on the pillow, Josh continues to refuse any acknowledgment of Devine’s presence. “Have you given up, Josh? I mean… You’ve already been exonerated. You could admit to killing Warren in cold blood right now and have no consequences. But… you’re not doing that. You’re sitting there and refusing to acknowledge the truth…” Before he can go on any further, Josh turns his head to the side and cuts him off. “And what truth is that?” Leaning forward and smiling, Devine answers. “The truth that you’re the villain trying to play the hero and it’s just not working out for you. At least not as you expected.” “Really?” Josh shouts, “Because as far as I’m aware, the only people that I have a problem with are bad, sick, vile burdens to society… And it appears that a jury would agree with me.” “Is that a confession?” Devine asks, with Josh cutting back, harshly screaming in Devine’s face. “You bet the FUCK it is! I killed Warren, a sick, gross piece of shit… The same way that you killed Alec Cerine for being a turncoat! I’m not the villain here, Devine! It’s impossible to be the villain when you’re surrounded by someone far more fitting for the role than yourself you fucking bitch!” Standing from his seat and pacing around the room, looking under desks and drawers, Devine takes a moment before getting in Josh’s face, whispering in response. “You bet your goddamn ass I was going to get rid of Cerine. There wasn’t a thing about him I didn’t know… At least there isn’t now that I’ve seen what he’s been hiding up north…” Directly in Josh’s face, Devine leans over the bed as Josh’s head rests completely in the pillow, Devine continues. “It’s just like I’m going to get rid of you, Josh. You know too much about what’s going on here. And now that you’re some folk hero to the public… A shining beacon of hope that good always prevails… Your death will become a tragic learning moment.” After a moment of silence, Devine concludes. “I may not have gotten in done in Buffalo… I might have gotten a little sloppy in the courtroom, even if it wasn’t my hand that gun was being aimed with… But it won’t happen again. And there’s not a thing you can do to stop the inevitable.” Removing himself from Josh’s face, Devine sinks back in the chair and kicks his feet up back onto the bedside. “You’re a bad person doing good things in hopes that it’ll redeem his past demons. You thought killing Warren Duane discreetly wouldn’t raise suspicions, and yet you’re now tied up with the mob and a controversy-machine for a Tuesday night on CNN. I don’t hate you, Josh… I just want to see you be convicted of your crimes the way you deserve to be... You thought you could help people, yet you ruined Eliza’s life, and Jennifer’s life, and anyone else you ever come in contact with again. You’ll never get a chance to make up for it, and they all hate you now because of it.” Expression taking a turn from anger to confusion as he remains staring at the ceiling above, Josh slowly turns to Devine, still proudly seated in his chair. “Eliza hates me? I ruined her life?” Smirking before placing a toothpick in his mouth, Devine responds. “Of course. You used her to get whatever you wanted, you think she’d let that slide?” Smiling, breaking out into a maniacal laugh, Josh stares Devine in the eyes before leaning on his right arm. “How would she let, or not let, anything slide when she’s dead, Devine?” Immediately, the smile fades from Devine’s face, and the toothpick being maneuvered around grows still on his lip. Finally after a moment, Devine closes his lips and grunts. Laughing loud enough for it to echo around the room, Josh slowly inches his way into a seated position at his bedside before looking directly at Devine, dying down the laughter. “I don’t kill good people, Eric. I kill the bad ones. I kill the people that should be killed, but aren’t.” Using both hands to prop himself up at his bedside, Josh leans forward. “I… I killed Warren Duane…” Devine, feet planted firmly on the ground, having been shoved off of Josh’s lap like an unwanted puppy, stares on as the man’s expression grows cold, and a sadistic smile reaches from ear to ear. Cupping his hands together, Josh leans closer to Devine at the edge of the bedside with the same smile draped across his face. “... The same way I killed Jeremiah Duane…” Devine’s face grows cold, smile completely wiped from his face as his hands begin trembling. Despite his body trembling with anger, Devine stands to his feet and meets Josh at his bedside, now standing, still with his hands cupped together as the two grow within eaches of the other on the cold hospital floor. “... The same way… I killed… Your father…” Shocked. Horrified. Mistified. Devine turns to stone, hairs on his arms standing on edge, his face shaking from the amount of anger boiling over the edge, Devine loses his temper, throwing a punch at Josh, only for the seemingly wounded man to duck the strike with quickness, planting his arm at the off-duty officer’s throat before forcing him across the room and up against the wall. Completely surprised at the possum-like game played by the unexpectedly-healthy Joshua Lane, Devine is frozen to the wall with a tongue on a frozen stop sign pole as the man still draped in his hospital gown uses his free hand to slowly remove the toothpick from his mouth. Snapping the pick in half with no effort, Josh keeps his eye planted on it as it drops from his hand and falls to the ground, slowly lifting it back to eye-level with Devine before letting the smile engulf his face once more. “... The same way… I’m going to kill… You.” Furious, Devine is forced to accept his position, defenseless and outmatched. Now growing animated, Josh’s sadistic moment of presenting pageantry in the further deserving moment from it shines like a gem in the midnight sky. “So sport… If you didn’t hate me before…” Leaning into Devine, Josh keeps his eyes locked onto the officer’s pupils as he takes his turn to close the distance between the two, getting in Devine’s face far too close for comfort. “... Get used to loathing me now, bitch.” With force, Josh grabs Devine by the neck and hurls him to the ground, sliding up to the hardwood door to the hospital room as he makes his point heard well and clear. In a moment of retreat, Devine pulls himself back to his feet before reaching for the doorknob. “This ends when you’re dead” Devine says, pulling the door open before disappearing out of it, leaving Josh stood at the end of the room, whispering to himself beneath his own breath. “You first.” | I’ve climbed this hill thousands of times. I’ve seen what lies over the ridge, the ridge that lets the sun inch overhead each morning at the crack of dawn, more times than I have cared to count, but enjoyed nonetheless. It’s a different feeling when you’re expecting the sight on the other end to feel like more of a prison than home, even if it’s what you called home for so long. And yet… Here we are. Just as isolation was to clear my head… Returning home was necessary to get it in order. Pulling up to her former home, garage doors taken off and replaced with hardwood boards, same applying to the front door, Eliza hops out of the driver’s seat of her vehicle before making the trek up the long gravel driveway, brushing off the “Private Property. Stay Out” signs lining the property like a spine to a hardcover book. Creeping up the stairs, planting one foot after another, climbing the stairs in such soft fashion that the rocks beneath her boots don’t crumble into bits, Eliza approaches the front door, taking a moment to survey the area before kicking in the hardwood, taking down the border between herself and home before entering. Once inside, Eliza can feel like the warmth in the air. The hot summer sun rains down a heat below noticeable even with air conditioning, but unbearable without it. The stuffy, cramped and muggy air overwhelms anything else within the house, forcing Eliza to turn on a flashlight just to get around. With light finally available enough to bring the remainder of the home out of darkness, Eliza gets to see the devastation left in the wake of the post-investigation. Torn furniture, broken furniture, belongings strewn about or missing. Everything within an eye’s view completely destroyed, ravaged or left completely unrecognizable from how it was left in the very least. Home, much like a prison, is stuffy and cramped, a shell of what home is meant to be. Foreign to what it was used to being. Unrecognizable from the luxuries home provides. This… Is fate. Nothing in this house says Eliza Bradburry. Nothing in this home is well. Everything Eliza Bradburry ever was had been symbolized in this home. The paintings are more filth than art. The furniture is more pain than pleasure. Everything that screams Eliza Bradburry is dead. Fitting, ain’t it? I guess Eliza Bradburry truly is dead. Walking from the middle of the living room, the space in which she finds herself awestruck at her surroundings, Eliza collapses onto the one cushion of her old couch still semi-intact, launching dust into the air as she simply sits, staring off at the remainder of her strewn-about home. Life… Starts now. | “Here are you accessories, Mr. Lane. Your bill has bent sent to your legal advisors, if you need any information regarding it, please speak with one of them, or file a request at our service desk.” “Thank you, I appreciate it” Josh responds to the lady at the head of the hospital, taking from her a bag of Josh’s belongings, including a phone, his wallet and some keys. Turning to the exit of the hospital, Josh begins walking in its direction before hearing someone call out his name from behind. “Josh!” The voice calls, prompting the man to turn back, noticing Becca walking towards him with a smile on his face. “From being weak enough to need help sitting up to signing yourself out on fairly strong legs, I’d say you made quite the recovery.” Smiling to himself, Josh responds, “Maybe I was just smart enough to figure out a good enough excuse for you to hold my hand...” Smiling and nodding through puckered lips, opting to play along with his game. “And to think we never got to finish that chat of ours before you so quickly tried to hurry away. Such a shame!” Tilting his head before locking his eyes with hers, Josh responds. “Who says we can’t continue that talk away from the hospital beds?” Smiling through a noticeable attempt to hide her blushing, “What exactly did you have in mind?” Becca asks, forcing Josh into a shit-eating grin as he conjures over what to say next. “Dinner? Preferably one that doesn’t come in a sealed container… Or originate from a hospital cafeteria? Or just one that doesn’t involve a hospital at all?” Crossing her arms loosely, Becca smiles. “So nothing involving a hospital… What about a bed?” Erm… This is… Going… Somewhere… I think… “I, uh… Ye-.... Uhm, Well I-” Josh stumbles to say, being cut off at the perfect moment by Becca, fixing the hair falling in her face. “LaMirage off Sunset at 9” Becca says, handing Josh her phone for obvious reasons, “I’ll text you if I can’t make it.” Inserting his number, Josh hands the phone back to Becca. “I’ll see you at 9, Josh Lane.” Turning back to return to her duties, Josh watches as the young brunette walks confidently further into the hospital before disappearing beyond the crowd. That girl. She’s definitely something else. But for as taken by this moment as I am, there’s something else that I need to do. Something I need to figure out myself. Something I need to see in order to put things to rest. Or at least in order to open doors I never knew needed to be shut in the first place. | “Lieutenant Devine. In my office, right now.” Attention caught by the sudden request, Devine stays frozen in his seat for a moment before taking a stand and making his way to the Sergeant’s office, closing the door behind him as he enters. “Please, sit” The sergeant requests, holding his hand out to Devine in the direction of the chair at the head of his desk. “Is there a problem, sergeant?” Devine asks, slowly taking a seat. “Lieutenant, I didn’t think I’d have to be having this talk with you. I know you’re still grieving at your father’s death, I don’t care if it’s been two years or two decades, a father once is a father forever. I don’t condemn you for that. What I do condemn you for is taking your practice as anything other than your first priority. I don’t care what your father’s death has to play in your current inability to stay on course, but your job is to make sure you catch and bring to justice people responsible for the crimes you’re tasked with solving.” “Sergeant, I understand that. But this case is-” Devine attempts to start, only to be cut off at the sergeant’s hand being held in the air, not a singular word having to be uttered before the point has come across. Silence overwhelms the room as the sergeant lowers his hand, Devine still silent. “You let one of New York’s highest profile murders and potential convicts fall through your hands. We had the knife on Joshua Lane directly. There was no rumor and nothing speculated, the knife was straight up on Joshua Lane. Warren’s blood coated it and everything. We had Joshua Lane red handed in the most literal fashion, and now we have let a high profile, highly-powerful and highly-wealthy, not to mention highly-intelligent murderer back out onto the streets. That mess, and perhaps another string of murders if this man gets confident will all be your fault. Do you know the gravity of the mess you have just allowed to sweep the streets, Lieutenant Devine?” “I… I screwed up.” Devine responds, residing to the fact that he let this one get away from him. “I screwed up. Unbelievable” the sergeant responds, throwing his hands in the air having quiet on the excuse. “I can make it up. I can prove he was involved in other murders. I promise!” Devine pleads, only for the sergeant to cut him off, face caked in disbelief. “You what?” the sergeant responds. “He confessed to me that he’s been behind Jeremiah Duane’s death this whole time” Devine says, stammering along like a madman in hopes of saving face, only for the sergeant to continue falling further down the rabbit hole of shock. “He confessed that he murdered Jeremiah Duane?” The sergeant says, only for Devine to respond, “Jeremiah Duane, and my father. He told me this. Straight up.” “Really?” The sergeant asks, “And when the hell did he tell you this?” “In his hospital room earlier today!” Devine says, louder than anything else. “You went to the man’s hospital room!?” The sergeant responds, “Yes! Off duty!” Devine responds, as if that made it any better. “Are you fucking crazy? Do you know how many legal implications that puts us in? Have you lost your goddamn mind!?” Silenced, Devine shakes his head, dropping his jaw before hopelessly saying, “I can prove it. Please.” Shocked into silence, the sergeant stands from his seat, pointing at the door as Devine pleads once more. “OUT!” The sergeant shouts, his voice thundering over any noise in the entire building, reaching far enough to be heard on multiple levels. “YOU’RE HEREBY SUSPENDED INDEFINITELY. GET OUT OF THIS BUILDING!” The sergeant screams, Devine now trembling in horror as his worst nightmares all come to life at once. “OUT!’ the sergeant says once more, with Devine slowly walking out of the door and through the station lobby. One foot in front of the other like a baby learning how to walk, Devine inches his way out of the building and to the parking lot. Pulling open the handle of his car door and swinging it open, Devine has a moment of fury as he runs himself directly into the door, repeating the process over and over again until the large hunk of metal flies from the car and into a bush plot on the side of the building. Fuming in the parking lot, looking at the damage to the car he created, Devine collapses into his drivers seat, legs still firmly planted on the ground beside the car as the man’s head drops into his hands. After moments of nothing but Devine seated in his chair, he slowly lifts his head from the palms of his hands, shaking uncontrollably with a look of pure distilled hatred. Finally, Devine pulls his legs from the ground and into the car, starting it up before pulling out from his parking spot with such little care that he takes a stop sign out in the process. Shifting gears into drive, Devine floors the car out of the parking lot and into the New York roadway, disappearing into the city life like a bag in the wind. | *buzz buzz buzz* Without looking, Josh grabs his phone out of his pocket and slides his finger across the screen, lifting it to his ear with a smile. “I was starting to miss you puppet master. How’ve you been?” Josh says gleefully, smile dancing across his face like a mime with too much lipstick. “Not as well as you have been apparently. Quite the ballsy move with Devine earlier, wouldn’t you say?” “Look, you reap what you sow. No one should be safe from that” Josh says, turning onto an offramp heading for the backroads of New York. “Listen. You know Devine isn’t going to take this lightly. The second he puts literally anything about his dad’s murder on a table and connects it with you, that’ll be enough for him to take action. He’s going to go off like a bomb and he’s going to make sure you’re at the epicenter of the explosion.” “I know” Josh says, smile disappearing but still keeping a content expression. “I won’t have to worry about it for too long, though. We both know that.” “Do we, Josh? Are you trying, at all, to make any logical sense right now? Think about why I’m giving you these calls. Think about why these blackouts keep happening. Do you not see any problems with uncovering the dark past you’ve spent tireless nights trying to seal up forever?” Brushing off the notion, Josh attempts to respond before being cut off by the man on the opposite line. “Why bring up those grimey truths of yours if you want them gone?” Finally, putting Josh into a position where he is left without anything to say, the guardian angel leans into his phone and concludes. “Do you truly want them gone, Josh?” Sitting there in silence, keeping his eyes on the road despite the question at hand being enough for anyone to go mad thinking about, Josh stares on at each road sign along his path, all reading “Stop Running.” “I do. I just… I just don’t know how to move on.” On the other line, the man leans up against his glass countertop, flinging a dart from his hand and towards a dart board at the opposite end of the room, the voice asks, “Do you think you’re able to bury your demons, Josh?” Still remaining in silence, feeling like his mind is breaking apart with each lingering moment the question still looms, Josh attempts to reply before once more being cut off by the man on the other line. “Do you want to put your demons away, Josh?” It’s hard to understand exactly what it is that I want out of life. For years I’ve just been surrounded with this ability to do whatever it was that I wanted to do because of my name and my title. Anything I wanted was something that I could have in the blink of an eye without ever having to break a sweat. Anything that I didn’t want was another task in general. The complete opposite of the spectrum. If I wanted something gone, I could just make it go away. I wouldn’t have to worry about any repercussions because, in case you weren’t paying attention to my court case, no one would convict me of my crimes. I never had to worry about a thing, so when I had demons that I needed off of my back, I got overwhelmed. I never needed to worry and yet I always had this lingering issue. All it ever took was a knife and some rope. I think I’m beginning to see where the problem in that sentence lays. “I just want to be happy” Josh says, trying to keep himself from crying despite shaking his leg like a panic attack is about to creep in. But do I deserve to be? I look at my work as something good. Getting rid of the bad people that deserve to be off the streets… And off this plane of existence for that matter… But maybe... Maybe it’s not. “Well, Josh… If you want to be happy, you need to put to bed the things that make you anything other than that. Focus on putting the dark side in the past... Quashing your demons once and for all.” The air feels so hostile… I guess I sort of have that effect… But the puppet master is somehow cutting through that hostility and bringing something calm to the table. He’s like the part of me I wish I’d listen to. Wise and ahead of the curve, and yet I keep listening to the irrational part of me. The part of me that doesn’t think about the consequences to the action… Only the action itself. Maybe I should start taking his suggestions into consideration more frequently. “I will” Josh says, nodding to himself as a light chuckle comes from the phone line. “Good” The guardian angel replies, “You should.” After another brief moment of silence only broken by the sound of Josh’s puppet master downing the remainder of his fine malt, “We’ll talk again soon, Josh. Goodbye for now.” Without responding, Josh hears the line go dead and lowers his phone to his lap. Pulling over to the side of the road, Josh puts the car in park and sits in the driver’s seat, waiting for something more to occur. “What are you waiting for, Josh?” A voice calls out from the passenger’s seat, looking straight ahead at Josh, refusing to look. “Joshua?” The voice calls once more. “I know what you’re looking to do, Nora. I’m not paying you any mind for it” Josh relies, saddening the figment of his imagination enough for a smile to cross his face momentarily. “Why not?” Nora asks, using a tone of disappointment still being ignored by the man in the driver’s seat. “Because I need to put my demons to rest, Nora. I can’t move on if I keep looking back.” “Why am I a demon, Josh?” Nora asks, placing her hand on Josh’s arm, forcing the hairs to stand as they usually do. “What is it about me that haunts you?” Nora asks, using her free hand to brush Josh’s neck. “You’re trying to consume me. Fill me with fear that I just can’t take. And I won’t, Nora. I need you to go away.” Placing her hand on Josh’s shoulder, Nora whispers into Josh’s ear, the man still forcing his head to remain turned away from her. “Why am I a demon to you, Josh?” After a stubborn refusal to acknowledge the woman’s presence, Josh mutters under his breath in a similar tone to Nora’s whisper. “Go away.” Surprised by the response, Nora’s eyes widen and the deep blue, ocean-from-afar like eyes grow hesitant. “But… Joshua-” Nora says, only to be met with the same response once more. “Go away.” Without response, Nora leans in to the man, smiling as tears stream down his face before attempting to whisper into his air, only for Josh to finally turn to face the woman, locking eyes with her, no fear in his heart, responding with the same two words once more in the direction of the heartbroken lovebird. “Go away, Nora.” The frown on her face turning into a subtle, sadness-filled grin of acceptance, Nora lets her hand fall from Josh’s arm,gliding down his skin like a teardrop down a cheek before finally removing itself completely, lowering the hairs on Josh’s arm before the woman vanishes completely, leaving Josh alone in the parked car on the side of the road, wiping a tear away from his eye before nodding in acceptance and taking a sigh of relief. | Everything is a beautifully broken mess. It’s fitting for this mess that I’ve gotten myself into. I sit here, alone in my torn-apart living room watching the dust continue to woft around the room like smoke from a cigar, wondering exactly what happens next. If Eliza Bradburry is dead, what does the person have left? I don’t feel like Eliza. She had a simplicity to her that I’m far too gone to remember the feeling of. I’m fueled by hatred and loathing for the person I once considered the closest thing I had to a friend. I don’t want to be Eliza anymore. Eliza is broken, and I don’t have the time available to myself to pick up all the pieces and glue them back together. So how do I move on? How do I look at this house and feel alright never needing to see it again? How do I look at myself in the mirror and be alright with being alive? No sign is going to walk through that door and usher me along the path towards that answer, so if there’s going to be a time that I man up and figure it out, it’s right now. Dropping her leg, crossed over her other to the ground, Eliza takes a final look around the room before standing from her seat at the torn couch and making her way to the bedroom at the end of the home. Walking inside, she notices something different about the air. It feels cold and there’s a draft present, changing the feeling from the moist, swamp-like living room. Surveying the room, Eliza finally heads in the direction of one of the drawers in the corner, opening it to reveal a small box. Opening the lid, Eliza finds a necklace that Josh gave her well before everything began going down. A cheesy, fifteen-dollar necklace laying in a pristine case masking the sheer lack of wealth contained inside of it. Smiling to herself slightly, Eliza picks the necklace out of the box and holds it into the air, watching it dangle in spite of one of the bent links to the chain, chuckling to herself at the picture of the two at the bottom, high fiving with two glasses of champagne. Back in the box lies a note, now on fairly less-than-pearly-white note paper reading, “I know you don’t celebrate your birthday. I don’t care. Happy birthday. - Josh.” Still caught up in laughter, Eliza lowers the box, the note and the necklace in her hands to her side, smiling as she looks around the room for the first time since she walked into the remnants of what used to be her house. For a moment, everything feels okay and the obvious example of her old life being gone surrounding her at every corner seems unimportant, as the moment of joy she had been stripped from feeling for so long finally reared its head around again. I miss this. I miss you, Josh. Just because I look at you as a very different kind of… Being… Doesn’t mean I don’t miss the memory of what I used to look at you as. You’re just as broken as the rest of us are, and you’ve said it yourself, everyone is hiding something down below… That grimey truth you take so much pleasure in saying at parties. Anyone that couldn’t see this kind of thing coming is an idiot… We’ve both been saying it since the beginning… Everyone is hiding something… Covering the dark secrets inside with masks of wealth and luxury. We’re just two of the people that don’t care too much to try. The sad thing is that I know that, and yet I still can’t stop thinking of you as a monster. I can’t stop seeing Warren, as sick and disgusting as he was, gasping for the air leaving his body in droves as you smile at his suffering. Yes… he should suffer… Living in the confines of a prison cell departed from his lavish comfort. But he shouldn’t have been left to die in the middle of the alleys in this city’s bowels like a dog, wounded and hungry. It’s this moral dilemma burning within me like an inferno that I just can’t shake. You’re a monster with a kind heart and good intentions. You’re someone I should hate but somehow love. You bring the worst out in me yet inspire the good. I just miss you. I miss me, too. I just want that back. *thud. THUD* A faint thud against the wood back in the living room of her home proceeds a larger and much more noticeable thud right after, prompting Eliza into action, taking a blade from her boot and marching down the hallway from her room and back to where her journey within these confined walls began. Turning the corner, Eliza watches a final kick at the hardwood of her backdoor patio entrance flies into the home, and emerging from the gap within it is the last person she would have expected to see. Frozen, still holding the knife in her hand, a shadow blocks the sunlight from her direction as a man standing opposite her stands just as still. Finally climbing down from the mountain of rubble beneath his feet and to the surface of the kitchen floor, Josh comes face to face with Eliza once more, stunning both into silence as the gravity of the moment lingers like a blister. Without hesitation and with a crack in his voice, Josh musters up the courage remaining still as stone to utter one word, calling out everything he sees before him. “Eliza?” *chirp chirp chirp*
Waking from her sleep, Eliza is faced with the blinding sight of the sun aimed directly at her eyes through the cover-less open window of her bedroom wall. The natural alarm clock serves as a wake up notice to the newly raven-haired lady, who rises from the soft fabric sheets of her bed to the warm hardwood floor beneath. Warm robe now adorned and fuzzy slippers now slipped on, Eliza walks over to the connected bathroom and looks into the mirror, watching her new black hair fall out of her bun and over her shoulders, Eliza reaches out towards the mirror and pulls it open, revealing her toothbrush and toothpaste before being taken in hand. This is the kind of life I used to imagine having as a kid. Not as a retreat from society, but as my permanent residence on the outskirts of the chaotic mess that the society inhabited. It was the most peaceful thing I could imagine having, which gave it the perfect separation from the actual hell I was infesting. It’s wonderful. Truly the most scenic beauty one could afford. Nothing more than what nature intended around it, and nothing less than spectacular. But despite the beauty I surround myself with being so out of place from the life I’ve always known, I still find it difficult to let go of the life I’m temporarily, or possibly permanently removed from. The anarchy of digging past the surface level to uncover a dark truth to someone they had no intention of anyone ever finding. When you dig into someone else’s mind, however, you end up becoming so enamored with what you see that you end up questioning your own motives and actions. The ability to grow self-aware in the spots that you never wanted to be aware of becomes infuriating. That furious rage you uncover within yourself is only made worse when you’re just as bad as the people you’re digging for dirt on. The fury didn’t just begin when I started working, though. It started the night Lieutenant Devine broke into my house and informed me that the people I had been associating myself with were just as dangerous as the people I had always revered. The night he told me that you were just using me to get what you wanted. To get the information you needed to do supposedly heinous acts. I didn’t want to believe him when he told me that you were a dangerous man. I didn’t want to believe that our friendship or bond, one that I was truly falling for in one respect or another, was based off of misplaced trust and such foul usage. Retreating from her bedroom bathroom and into the hallway, Eliza aims directly for the room at the end, pulling for the doorknob and entering the secretive den-like space. Closing the door behind her, she places a coffee pot in the machine it belongs to and starts a brew, sitting in the desk chair beside it and looking directly at an ice-white wall, caked in pictures and writings all centering around Joshua Lane, Lieutenant Devine, Warren Duane, Alec Cerine and others. But then I started piecing everything together. Then I started to read between the blurred lines I now had the ability to see. That’s when it all started making sense. Pulling the pot from the coffee machine, Eliza pours herself a cup of straight-black coffee, placing it to her lips and kicking her feet up on a cushion sofa directly ahead of her. I don’t know what you were using that information to do yet, Josh. And I don’t know whether or not you’re a monster. Honestly, I don’t know if I should care. But I know you were using that information. And in doing so, I know you were using me. But that’s okay… Standing from her chair, Eliza walks over to the drywall and removes a thumbtack from a plastic container stash before pinning it into the wall over a picture of Warren Duane’s crime scene, right beside a picture of a hiking trip with Josh and other office workers, where Josh brandishes a knife closely resembling that of a police sketch of what Duane’s murder weapon was supposed to look like. Because I was using you, too. | I’m used to being lied to. I’m in charge of a globally recognized company, it kind of comes as part of the job, but I never expect it to be used as a scare tactic. It’s bad enough that Devine heads up the the strongest force in New York, but now I’m certain he heads up the strongest influence of power in the Pipeline, or at least stands up there alongside them. No one ever really sees the Pipeline, it’s all just people that are outspoken about their association but never the group in general. They’re all hidden away, tucked into little pockets of the city doing the jobs they’re meant to do. Marijuana growth and distribution, whilst not legal, isn’t enough for law enforcement to get involved… I guess I know there’s a reason for that now… It also ensures the Pipeline keeps a heavy influence over the people using their product. No one asks questions about the Pipeline, good or bad, because there are no questions to ask. They give you something, you take it, and you move on. Repeat the process, nothing more and nothing less. Human trafficking, believe it or not, is pretty easy to get away with when no one is asking questions. So when you’re able to get away with doing whatever you want under the guise of operating an underground mafia-like group in favor with the public and untouchable by police that know they’re better off with your influence than without, but are still fed up with how much you get away with under your breath, you end up thinking that you’re untouchable. Invincible. So what’s killing a successful department head in her own home, in cold blood, on a weeknight, more than another day’s work? Let me tell you, Devine. You won’t get away with it. Those clothes you were carrying in your hands? The fact that you were the first on the scene staking out a problem no one knew about, undercover, and under raps doesn’t fly with me. I’ll kill you, Devine. Eliza’s death will not be in vain. *knock knock* The sound bouncing off the hardwood office doors surprises Josh, who cracks his knee on the bottom of his desk in response, shouting in the process. “Are you alright!?” Jennifer asks, forcing the door open in response to the shout. “I’m fine!” Josh responds, grabbing at his knee. “What are you doing here?” Josh asks, waving his hand to grant permission to Jenn to enter and close the door behind her. Looking around the room, Jenn slowly walks in. “What’s wrong?” Josh asks, taking notice of Jennifer’s unusual mannerisms. “There’s camera or mics anywhere in here, right?” Jenn asks, being met with a shaking head from Josh. Taking a seat in front of his desk, Jenn slides a flash drive and a key with the tag “B274” tied to it. “What’s this?” Josh asks, sliding it the rest of the way into his hands. On the flash drive, only the manufacturing name appears on the front, and the coded fraction ‘for ½’ appears in white-out on the back. “Alec told me to give it to you. He said it would be important.” Jennifer answers, confusing Josh. “Alec’s dead, Jenn” Josh responds, prompting Jenn to shake her head rapidly. “Before he died. Months ago.” “What are you talking about, Jenn?” Josh responds, playing around with the switch on the red and black flash drive. “He said you were the only person he trusted with it” Jenn responds. “He said you were the only person that he knew wasn’t involved in something dangerous, and that if he died, he wanted you to have it and do whatever you felt was necessary with it.” Looking back to Jenn, Josh responds. “Are you drunk?” Tilting her head back in frustration, Jenn flips Josh the middle finger. “No. I’m just freaked out because I didn’t think he was in any actual danger. I thought he just playing a game and trying to be all scary and shit. But when the cops told me he was stabbed in the street, I knew something was up. I didn’t want to believe it, so I’ve spent the past few weeks just trying to forget about it… But I can’t get it out of my head. What if he got killed because of this thing, Josh?” On the verge of tears, Jenn remains in her seat as Josh stands from behind his desk and rushes over to comfort her. “Okay, okay” Josh responds, pulling her head into his chest as he rests on his left knee. “Okay, you need to work with me here, Jenn. Can you do that?” Josh asks. Regaining her composure, Jenn nods and catches her breath. “What do you know about this stuff, Jenn?” Talking through gaps of breath, Jenn answers. “The key is to a storage locker in Buffalo. Alec said he kept portfolios for work hidden there so no one would stumble around and find out confidential reports for the company. They’d be safe and out of the way. I don’t know what’s on the flash drive, though. He just told me to keep it in my nightstand in case something happened to the stuff in Buffalo.” Portfolios? Company portfolios? I’m not typically one for favoring the electronic advancements we find the world offering every other day at this rate, but I’m part of the 99.9% of VeroSoft workers that have thrown the paper-route out the window. Literally. When I first got the chance, I shredded every financial document I was allowed to and dumped them out of the breakroom window. I’m a literal guy, what can I say? Keeping paper copies of portfolios in a locker that could be auctioned off the second you miss out on a few payments, especially ones that Alec’s saying are incredibly important is so out of left field that it’s bathing in the bird fountain. It’s off, and it’s off by a mile and a half. “Just promise me something, okay?” Jenn asks, Josh meeting her in the eyes. “Tell me whatever it is that you find. I don’t care how hard to swallow it is, I just need to make sure I knew the person I wa-” Jennifer says, cutting herself off as tears begin to roll down her eyes like a rock down a hill. “The person I was falling in love with.” Poor taste in men, sure. I don’t even know if that’s debatable or not. Not a great selection you made there, Jenn… But your reason is noble. You want to make sure the person you were falling for was every bit the man you thought he was… Either you’re blind or just have really low standards. Whatever it is, you’ve got my word. “Whatever I find out, you’ll be the first to know as long as it doesn’t make more of a mess than we already have, okay?” Josh says, “I promise.” Smiling, Jenn shuts her eyes and nods, burying her head into Josh’s chest again. First things first… Let’s go to Buffalo. | What will happen, will happen. I never question that for a second. Of course, some people can sneak their way around it with more ease than others, but what remains the same is that what people deserve is what they’ll get, whether that’s in this life or another. If you put yourself in the line of danger in order to make sure people are caught for their crimes, that’s perfectly fine with me. But when you leap over that line, one so finely dug into the sand, and you take the position of judge and jury into your hands too, that’s when you become less human and more monster to me, Once you’ve taken it upon yourself to try these disgusting stains of society, you’ve already taken over the role of executioner. You’ve already made up in your mind whether or not you’ll sentence them as guilty or innocent. You don’t just change in a moment, and there’s nothing they can say to get you to respond any differently. How can I ever look you in the eyes and not see a monster, Josh? It makes sense, what you did, and maybe even why you did it… But I can’t figure out how I could not see it all this time. I was feeling something for you. What it was I have no clue. But I know that I was feeling something. Now I just feel empty. I couldn’t see a man capable of murdering someone else, someone he knew, in cold blood. And I almost fell for you. Swept off my feet by a cold sociopath masquerading as a tactical, charming break from the chaotic norm. I couldn’t see the monster you truly were. And it sucks. | Buffalo sucks. Nothing but snow or drug addicts for miles… And every corner you round it seems like the national past time is leaping through plastic beer pong tables. Are we sure this isn’t some discarded part of Canada they left us all those years ago and just… never said anything? If you told me this was really just Montreal’s cousin, I’d believe you, no questions asked. I guess that makes it perfectly out of the way. The last place anyone would ever expect you to be hiding something. But still… Fucking Buffalo? *Screech* The wheels of the town car squelch as the tires come to a halt. “I’ll be waiting right here for you, Mr. Lane” The driver calls back, prompting Josh to exit the vehicle and walk up to the main gate. Putting in a code written on the back of the paper attached to the keys, “554476” proves to be the magical number as the large, metal gate slowly grinds open as the world of giant metal buckets becomes Josh’s personal playground for the time being. B274… Turning the corner. B101. Getting closer. Walking down the passageway to circumstantial shock, Josh walks past container after container before finally coming to the end of the rows, finally stumbling across container B274. Placing the key in and freeing the chambers inside, Josh removes the lock from the metal door and enters the unit. Is there a lightswitch or something? Fumbling around the wall, Josh finally comes across a switch, flipping it to power on a massive spotlight at the corner of the space, revealing a workshop spanning three containers wide, having bust down the walls to two units beside it, containing drawer after drawer and desk after desk, with one singular laptop on top of a table in the center of the room. I swear, any steps further inside and you might as well expect to find me on the FBI’s watchlist. This place is crammed with bin after bin of information, stacked to the top with one paper after another. There’s no end to the documentation in sight! This place could contain every confidential report in U.S history in it and you’d still have room to fit eighty-thousand copies of the Declaration of Independence in here! Taking notice of the laptop, Josh walks up and removes the flash drive from his pocket and cautiously takes a seat. Sliding the flash drive in, Josh powers on the computer and logs in. “554476” The passcode unlocks the computer, revealing an interface crowded to the brim with folder after folder, all of which named only by numbers. 5342, 6739, 1120, 4588. How the fuck am I going to use any of this? Finally, after scouring through every folder on the screen, he finds only one without any numbers or mysterious code to it. One named, simply, “Josh.” I’m about to get sucked straight through this computer screen and into another dimension, aren’t I? This is how a story about breaking the space time continuum opens isn’t it? My life is a fragile example of human errors, huh? This is how it happens, right? “Fuck it” Josh mutters under his breath, pressing the icon on the screen and loading up a singular word document titled “Confidential - Josh.” No portfolios or whatever Jenny told you I have here. I need you to read the following very carefully. I know you don’t like me. I get it, trust me, I do. I don’t like myself either… That’s kind of why I’ve been married so often. It isn’t easy to love someone else when you can hardly love yourself. Regardless of how you feel about me, I need you to know that what you see isn’t the full story. There are plenty of things that I do that seem irrational, and if you’re reading this, it’s because I trust you enough to know the truth in case the irrational shit catches up with me. I know enough about you, sorry for digging too far, to know that you’ve done some fucked up things. I want you to know that I don’t hold any of it against you. When people have money and power, they can weasel their way out of anything they please… Other than death. You’re doing things no judicial system has the balls to do, that’s why I trust you with this information. Read this carefully. I’m NOT a part of the Pipeline family. Am I close to them? Yeah, I have to be. Everything you see around you, y’know those cabinets full of papers and documents? Yeah… Dirt. Dirt that I’ve been able to save up by being on the inside. I know I’ll get trapped inside soon enough, but at least you have this to fall back on when I’m not here. Every number has a code to crack. Where do they lead? Nowhere. They’re false leads. Once you’ve read this, delete this document and the folder it’s in, and leave everything else the way that it is. It’s a ploy. Look up, over the desk, at the counter right next to the light. There’s a cabinet right above the radio. Looking up from the laptop, Josh notices the desk exactly as described. It’s got another flash drive. It’s the only thing in this entire room with information that actually matters towards anything. Standing from the chair and aiming for the cabinet, Josh pulls open the door and grabs at a gun-shaped flash drive. Pulling it from the cabinet and placing it in his pocket, Josh aims to return to the desk, only for a gunshot to ring off in the distance, freezing him in place. *Pop Pop* Two more shots ring off, forcing Josh to quickly rush back to the computer. Good luck, Josh. The statement concludes, and Josh deletes both the document and the folder before hurrying for the metal door. Bursting from the container without bothering to place the lock back on, Josh rushes for the front gate, placing in the code to open it and hurries for his town car. Pausing for a moment, just looking at the car, Josh notices the passengers window blown out, shattered glass lining the ground. Slowly approaching the car, Josh leans forward, looking through the passengers window to find his driver dead, one bullet to the head and two slugs to the chest. Eyes widened from the shock, Josh inches back cautiously, hoping the further back he goes, the farther from the truth he’ll be. “I- I-” Josh tries to speak, only for his vision to go from hazy to black momentarily, as a loud and resounding thud resonates from the impact of something cracking him over the back of the head. Stirring and dazed on the sandy, gravel ground, Josh clutches at the back of his head and rolls over onto his back, watching as Lieutenant Devine clutches at a rock with a devilish smile across his face. “Hey Joshy boy! Care to have a little… One on one?” Still thrown for a loop, Josh lays on the verge of unconsciousness as Devine swing down the rock once more, missing by a few inches as Josh rolls off to the side. Staggering to get back to his feet, Josh clutches at the hood of the town car for support, only for another attempted shot from Devine to force Josh to collapse back to the ground, the crushing blow of the rock against the mirror of the car’s door shattering more glass, this time all over Josh. Crawling away from his assailant, Josh watches on, desperately trying to figure out ways to defend himself as he continues to watch Devine inch closer towards him, crushing the tiny pebbles beneath his feet, still retaining the disorientating grin. “I’m sorry it had to be this way, Josh. I know you never really expected this…” Taking a sigh of relief, Devine puckers his lips and nods to himself. “Warren was a bad man… That… That I’ll agree with you on” Devine says, chuckling to himself with the rock still clutched in his shaking hand. “But come on, youngest CEO in VeroSoft Industries history!” Devine says, sarcastically listing Josh’ achievements as if they were cannon fodder. “You didn’t really expect there to be a human trafficking ring in the undergrounds of the big apple without a little bit of help, did you?” “You’re scum!” Josh shouts, crawling to the chainlink fencing along the border, grabbing onto the link behind himself to continue clutching at whatever hope remains of standing a fighting chance against a man armed with a rock. “You’re bound for what you deserve!” Josh shouts, stopping Devine in his tracks. Flipping his greasy, slicked back hair away from his eyes, Devine laughs and shakes his head. “Probably. But I’ll make one thing sure... It won’t be at your hands.” Lunging forward, Devine brings down the rock towards Josh again, only for Josh to finally get in some offense, lifting his foot in the air and sending it directly into Devine’s face, forcing him to drop the rock and grab at his nose, trying to stop the blood from pooling out of his nostrils. With a chance for escape possible, Josh crawls desperately to the town car, watching on as Devine stands back to his feet and makes a dash for Josh. Tackling the concussed man onto the hood of the car, Devine begins raining down one punch after another, bloodying Josh further with every punch. After a number of strikes, Josh lifts his knee up directly between the belt of the officer ahead of him, dropping him to his knees as Devine’s family jewels feel the effects. Gaining enough strength to stand to his feet, Josh throws a final knee directly at the bridge of Devine’s nose, sending him to the ground in a heap as Josh staggers back to his feet, crawling around the hood of the car and into the drivers seat. Pulling the driver’s body from the front seat, Josh collapses into the chair and turns the keys in the ignition, slamming the door beside him shut and putting the car in drive, heading off into the Buffalo night, leaving Devine in the dust. However, pulling himself up into a seated position, Devine watches on as the car disappears over the lip of the road and beyond, laughing with a cold, chilling smile without words, just watching on as the dust in the air slowly falls back to the ground it was kicked up from. | It didn’t take me long to realize Devine’s plan was to fake my death and make it look like I was out of the way to Josh. Whether it was a tactic to prod at him or break him down, I haven’t figured out yet. But I know now what the woman was brought along for. Devine looks at the people he associates himself with as expendable. The only reason he kept me alive was to use me as bait if he needed a last resort to get further to Josh. I shouldn’t have believed Devine after I knew what he did… That poor girl. She may not have even wanted to get involved with the Pipeline, for whatever reason, she may have felt like it was her only option. And here we are, she’s dead and I’m alive because of that. Even if it feels disgusting to say, as disgusting as any one thing can be sitting in a bubble bath with the news playing in the background can be, I’m glad I trusted Devine’s words. Josh is a dangerous man, a dangerous man I should be lucky to have escaped the clutches of death from. But by some fucked up miracle… Devine’s even worse. I don’t know who deserves a fate worse than death more, I just know that if faced with the law, both men are capable enough of easing their way around corners to get off completely free. “Breaking news tonight into the KVLR newsroom out of New York including VeroSoft Industries.” Caught off guard by hearing the name of VeroSoft mentioned on local New Hampshire news, Eliza quickly climbs out of the bathtub and places on a towel, rushing into her bedroom to catch the TV. “Chief Executive Officer of VeroSoft Joshua Lane has been taken to a hospital tonight following a police stop just outside of Buffalo.” Holy fucking shit. There’s no goddamn way I’m actually watching everything responsible for the past year of my life unfold on local television all at once. “Police say the company head, responsible for digging the company out of multiple filings for Bankruptcy was found badly wounded after driving his car into a ditch just outside of Buffalo, New York. Police say that Lane was behind the wheel of a 2014 Lincoln Navigator with blood splatters clearly visible in the front seat of the car. Lane suffered extensive head injuries resulting from the crash, and he is currently in stable condition. I… I don’t know what to feel right now. After all I’ve thought over the past few weeks, I should be feeling ecstatic that he’s gotten the punishment that he deserves… But… But I can’t help but feel sick. He looked after me and cared enough to leave me message after message trying to make sure I was alright. He’s helped Jenn countless times get home safely after a night of too much drinking at the bar. I know he’s done horrible, disgusting things, but a pit inside of me feels horrible knowing that somewhere inside of that… monster… A good man also got the same taste of medicine the bad man inside should have. Why the fuck am I so torn over this? I should be happy. The fucker got what he deserved. It was only a matter of time before he got what was coming to him. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why the fuck is this as much of a bad thing as it is good? Why is this a bad thing in any way at all? FUCK! | *buzz buzz buzz* Ringing off the hook, Josh’s phone goes off in his pocket, refusing to stop until the badly wounded man finally reaches into his pocket to retrieve it. “What!?” Josh shouts. “Listen to me carefully, Josh…” The man on the other line says, prompting Josh to scream suddenly. “What the FUCK could you want now, puppet boy!?” “Stop the car, Josh” The man responds on the other end of the phone line, only for Josh to press his foot to the pedal, flooring the car higher and higher in speed until it reaches its highest acceleration. “Josh. You need to listen to me. Your car is-” The man attempts to plead with the mentally incoherent man speeding behind the wheel. “Shut the FUCK UP! Okay! Okay!? I’m not having your bullshit right now! This ain’t the motherfucking time! I came too close to death, and I ain’t putting up with your shit!” “Josh, Devine planted something on you! He expected you to live! That was the goddamn plan!” The man shouts, angering Josh further. “BULLSHIT!” Josh screams, turning around to look at the backseat, noticing a plastic baggie tucked underneath one of the cushions. “Stop the car, Josh!” The man on the other end says. “I can’t-” Josh says, beginning to lose focus as the road ahead begins to blur. “I can’t st-” Josh says, still trying to get the right words out between the sounds of the road turning into a garbled mess as his brain fails to process his surroundings. “Josh” A faint voice calls out, “Josh” it calls out once more. Still fading in and out, Josh struggles to keep consciousness before he feels a hand from off to the side graze his arm, running down the length before finally reaching his neck. Turning towards the passenger seat, Josh’s vision finally clears for a moment. “Nora” Josh calls, seeing the beautiful woman smile at him. “Hi” Josh says, smile over his face as Nora begins to caress his cheek. “Hey darling… I’m happy to see you” Nora says, bringing a tear to Josh’s eyes. “Honey, what’s wrong? You’re… You’re bleeding” Nora says, gently placing her hand over the gash in the back of Josh’s head. “What happened?” Nora asks, forcing Josh speechless. “I… I was a- I was attacked.” Tilting her head and taking josh’s into her hands, Nora inches closer, locking eyes with the distraught man behind the wheel of the speeding car. “Why?” Struggling to keep his words, Josh smiles at Nora’s touch. “I- I did… A bad thing” Josh says, quivering as the hair on his skin begins to rise. “Why?” Nora asks faintly, lip shaking. “I- I had to” Josh responds, forcing Nora to close her eyes. “No. No no no. Don’t pull that deadeye shit again, please! Please, I can’t handle it anymore!” Josh screams, pleading for Nora not to open her eyes. “I need you to see what you’re doing, Josh. I need to open my eyes to see it with you” Nora responds, raising her eyes to Josh’s and opening her eyelids as Josh screams in horror in anticipation. Normal. Nora’s eyes are normal. Their regular self in all of their glory. Nora’s eyes are the way they always have been. “You didn’t do the eye thing” Josh says,, relieved. Nora smiles, placing her hand to Josh’s cheeks. “Why? I’m not the one dying” Nora responds, turning her head to face the rear-view mirror. Slowly inching his head forward, Josh’s face grows stiff and his body grows cold as the hairs on his body continue to stand. Closer and closer Josh inches towards the mirror before locking eyes with himself, his reflection sporting eyes of lifeless crisp-white. Screaming in horror, Josh loses control of his car, trying to keep straight before Nora turns his head back towards hers, locking eyes with him. “It’s time, Josh” she says, repeating his name over and over as the car veers out of control. “Josh” Nora says, watching the man lose control of the wheel as his car goes into a slide. “Josh” Nora says, watching Josh struggle with the metal skeleton around him as the car begins drifting down a hill. “Josh” A muffled voice in the background says as the wheels of the car rise from the ground and the vehicle goes into a violent dive. “JOSH!” The man on the other line of the phone screams out as Josh’s vision returns just in time to see himself plummeting towards earth before everything goes black, and the vehicle shatters and spins and contorts violently as the buzzing on the other end of the phone surrounds Josh, the only thing breaking the eternal black he is consumed by. “Quell Gas and Shortstop, how can we help you?”
The woman at the front desk of the small, out of the way gas station holds the phone to her ear and begins arguing with the voice on the other line, referring to it as a bastard and a cheat before the chimes of the front entry to the store ring off, and through the door walks a figure cloaked in black. Jeans are a rustic black, jacket is darker than a shadow on the ground and shoes with the appearance of having been rubbed with charcoal. Through the store the figure walks, browsing the shelves and eying the aisles, taking a few moments to stop every now and then to pick something from its metal shelving and tuck it beneath its arm before continuing its efforts. One by one, the figure retrieves miniscule item one after another before finally approaching the refrigerators at the end of the store, stopping for a moment ahead of them and tilting its head, only to swing the glass door open and pull free from it a large case of off-brand beer. Turning away from the back of the store, the figure heads for the front counter, nonchalantly gazing at the items on the shelves to each side it has no intention of buying before finally standing at the front counter, placing the items on the countertop and staring at the cashier through dark tinted sunglasses. *beep beep beep* The price scanner sounds off, ringing through each item individually. Black hair dye, a loaf of bread, a few packets of tuna and the aforementioned case of beer. Once each item has been processed into the system, the store clerk requests the payment of $24.78 and identification for the liquor. Reaching into its pocket, the figure pulls out a wallet and hands the clerk a twenty and a five before handing the woman at the register its ID. “Can you remove the glasses for a moment, mam?” The store clerk asks, prompting the woman to remove the hood over her head and the glasses from her face, allowing her striking blue eyes to meet those of the store clerks. Nodding her head following a closer inspection of the identification card, the store clerk motions her hand forward, returning the ID to its rightful owner. Pressing a few more buttons on her cash register, the clerk prints off a receipt and smiles in the direction of the woman in front of her. “Thank you, Ms. Bradburry. Have a lovely day.” Taking her items back under her arms, Eliza smiles upwards and thanks the clerk for her wishes before turning for the door and heading out of the store. Back at her car, the rental plates remain on the trunk she sends flying into the air to store her purchased items, revealing a clean and empty interior before being shut once more. Walking to the drivers side, Eliza opens the door and returns to her seat, pressing her hands against the steering wheel and taking a deep breath, almost as if to calm herself from any underlying stress before placing the keys into the ignition and starting her car. Backing up from her parking spot, Eliza sends the car into drive before making for the entryway to the lot and directing her vehicle north, heading onto a backroad and directly passing a sign reading, “New Hampshire. 5 Miles Away.” There’s no room for silence in the bowels of New York. The povered and the privileged in most cases have such little room for themselves that they’re usually forced to stand side by side with the other. It’s a constant reminder that there’s no room for error in a city infested with the discards of humanity. Sometimes, I feel like the people stranded in New York are being punished just by being forced to live there. The streets are crowded, no one cares about anyone other than themselves, and it’s hard to find good people. Hell, most people in New York don’t even try to be nice… It’s just too much effort. So when you find someone that seems to be nice because they’re consciously making an effort, you latch onto that person because it’s more likely to be that they’re truly a good person than the opposite. People that do the right thing and make the right moves because they have the best intentions behind them. It’s hard to find, but when you find it… You’re positive you hit the nail straight on the head. I’ll be honest with myself… Those people can come across fairly charming fairly quickly. I’d be lying to myself if I said I wasn’t beginning to find Josh attractive in every conceivable way. When you get a warm shoulder around, you just seemed to be drawn to the idea of nestling up against it. But I’m also afraid of what might happen between us if things take a turn neither of us saw coming. That ‘almost kiss’ was a deer in the middle of a pitch black road. I couldn’t just say “I’m gay” again and hope it slides, because I’m not and I’m surprised Josh bought it the first time to begin with. But stack that on top of seeing… What I had to see… Something’s just not adding up. Warren gets sliced up like carved ham just as I’m on the verge of getting to the bottom of what he’s hiding, and once I get a few pieces fall into my lap, I watch the closest person I can pin to him as an associate get pierced into oblivion meer feet away from me. And now, all of a sudden, I’m starting to get this Lieutenant Devine guy calling to speak to me privately. I know I’m dealing with two mafia killings here, but I can’t help but wonder how the rabbit hole truly goes. I think I might already know. Well… I guess the better word for the situation is I ‘fear’ that I might already know what I don’t want to. These weeks… They haven’t been great. I know it doesn’t seem like what’s been happening justifies faking my own death, but what I’ve begun to know now is more startling than I care to admit… Nothing is what it seems in New York. And sometimes… Neither are the people. | I can feel the nerves in my body trying desperately to eat away at my flesh. I’m furious. I’m fuming. Evil always has a way of finding the most inopportune time to strike its vengeance down upon the heart of the people least deserving of it. All I wanted to do was make sure the people wronged by vile cretins were served the spectators view of the justice they deserve to be granted. Ensure that their suffering wasn’t in vain. I failed myself in the process. I still have no clue whether Alec had a larger role in this operation or not, so whether or not he truly got what was coming for him, I’m probably long from knowing. But I know for certain, what happened to Eliza was my fault. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t justified. It was wrong on so many levels. It was injustice that I served to her on a cold, harsh platter of disgust. I guess trouble truly does have a thing for me. It doesn’t want to leave me alone, and why should it? I’m a magnet for it at this rate. Mobs, murder and mayhem are like scattered reference points on my resume. Maybe more so than anything else… Carnage is my honest grimey truth. *buzz buzz* The phone in Josh’s pocket begins buzzing in a familiar tone, prompting the man currently seated on a leather sofa with a bottle of New York’s finest in his hand to reach into his pocket and raise the phone to his ear without question. “Why did this happen to me? Why didn’t you warn me?” Josh says, awaiting a response before hearing nothing but silence. “ANSWER ME!” Josh screams into the phone, throwing himself to his feet in anger before the silence is broken on the other end of the phone call. “Is this Mr. Joshua Lane?” The voice on the other end asks, forcing Josh to ease up in his hostility noticing the calm and cautious woman’s voice on the other end. “Yes. Yes, I’m sorry. It’s been… It’s been a long few hours.” Returning to a normal tone, the woman on the other line begins to explain her reason for calling. “Mr. Lane, my name is Sylvia Hamish with the New York Police Department. We were hoping you could come down later today to identify the body we found on Lakeshore Road last night. We know it’s difficult, but you’re the only person we’ve confirmed to be familiar with her.” Wiping his chin of the liquor running down it, Josh catches his composure and agrees to help in identifying the body. “Yeah. I’ll- I can be down there in an hour.” “Great, we’ll inform the front desk now. Thank you for your help, Mr. Lane.” Nodding his head slowly, Josh responds, “No problem” with his voice giving out, cracking under the weight of his emotions before the line on the other end disconnects. Refusing the lower the phone from the side of his head, Josh just stares blankly at the blank wall in front of him as the lack of conversation resonating from the other line begins dulling out the room around him. Suddenly, he finds himself increasing the volume of the faint tone on the phone line until it’s all that he can hear. The buzzing surrounds him, screaming at him along the same wavelength as the blood her can hear running through his neck. Head shaking, hands growing sweaty enough to almost drop his phone involuntarily, Josh stands there on the verge of erupting into a ball of flames and fury until the growling tone of the phone line dies, the room around him returns to its state and the hairs on his body stand in attention as he looks around the room, dimly lit by the faint pink light of the sun at dawn. Looking around the room, phone still plastered to the side of his face, Josh notices something he can’t explain. He can feel something around him, but he just can’t quite put into words what the feeling is supposed to be. Finally, his arm still holding the phone to the side of his head begins to tinger with anticipation, all before the soothing and light touch of a hand begins to graze his skin, moving up his forearms and to his biceps before finally reaching and holding his hand. Josh turns to his left, phone still suspended by his hand in air with nothing to support it other than his palm, watching Nora smile at him whilst holding his hand in hers. “Are you waiting for someone?” Nora asks, leaning in to Josh before planting a kiss to his lips, locking eyes with him and waiting patiently like a dove on a tree. “Just a… client” Josh responds through breaths of confusion, watching as Nora’s expression goes from one of pleasure to one of contempt. “Why are you lying to me, Josh?” The woman, her touch still leaving the hairs on Josh’s arms stood in place begins to sour her expression towards Josh into a twisted frown filled with hatred and disappointment. “This isn’t real anymore, Joshua. Why keep lying to me?” The woman asks, getting closer to Josh’s face with a new look of sorrow and a somber empathy. “I- I don’t” Josh begins, only to be cut off as Nora places her forehead against his and closes her eyes, squeezing a tear out from her eyelid and down the side of her cheek. “Why don’t you love me anymore, Josh?” Nora asks, tears now seeping from her closed eyelids as Josh begins to follow suit, his eyes acting like a water spout. “I do.” “Why don’t you love me anymore, Joshua?” Nora asks again, now panting at his chest with her free hand. “I do” responds Josh, trying to use his own free hand to lift Nora’s glance towards him. It’s to no avail as Nora keeps her head down, her forehead now pressed to his chin as she asks again. “Why don’t you love me anymore, Joshua?” “I do!” Josh says again, pressing a kiss on her forehead as Nora’s panting turns to scratching. Her nails, like the claws of a coyote, try to dig into Josh’s chest at an empty rate. “No you don’t” Nora says, still with her eyes sealed and her head down. “I do!” Josh tries again to assure her, trying to raise her chin up to look her in the eyes, only for Nora to refuse again, her scratching now turning to clawing, drawing blood from Josh’s chest as beat-red scratch marks begin to engulf his chest. “No you don’t!” Nora now shouts from her shallow core. “I DO!” Josh screams to Nora, head shaking furiously before he’s brought to a stand still as Nora finally pulls her head up towards Josh’s. “No” Nora says, opening her eyes to reveal lifeless pearly-white eyes once more. “No you don’t, Joshua.” Mouth agape, Josh’s eyes lock onto Nora’s as her body grows limp once more, shocked into a motionless stand unable to respond in any way until buzzing begins to surround him once more. *buzz buzz buzz* No Nora, no dead eyes and no hands stood on his skin, Josh finds himself staring at the blank wall once again, hand still pressing the phone to his ear, now buzzing erratically with another phone call. “Unknown Caller” Making sure to check the caller ID again, Josh cautiously slides the green arrow on the screen before pressing the phone back to his ear. “Hello” Josh says, emotionlessly responding and returning to looking at the blank white wall ahead of him again. “I heard about what happened. I’m sorry about your loss.” Turning to his left, Josh locks eyes onto the couch before dropping back into his seat again. “What do you want, mystery man?” “Well for a start, let’s begin calling me something else. ‘Mystery Man’ doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, now does it?” Tilting his head and shutting his eyes, Josh caves. “Well what should I call you, then?” Filling the void of the buzzing with laughter, the man responds. “Well you shouldn’t be calling me at all, that’s my job… But in regards to how you should refer to me… How does ‘Guardian’ sound?” Chuckling beneath the pressures of his own broken voice, Josh nudges his shoulders and responds. “It’s probably the least ridiculous thing in my life right now, so why the hell not?” “Good. I’m a sucker for it, too. So, listen to me. I know you’ve got a little appointment with a specific police department in a little bit, so I want to make sure you and I are on the same page here.” “What are you talking about?” Josh asks, earning a response easily. “I know you want to… But you can’t kill the Lieutenant yet. At least, not until we’ve gotten a few things in order here.” Standing from the couch, legs slightly wobbly as he cautiously marches to the other side of the room and over to his kitchen countertop, Josh asks for further explanation. “While we know that Devine’s hiking on our side of the trail, we don’t have any proof wiping our hands clean from any wrong doing in case someone asks about why he’s laying in a pool of his own blood face down in the dirt. And if we don’t have that luxury for Devine, we certainly still don’t have that for Warren. We can’t get our hands dirty again unless we’ve washed them first.” “I thought I was the one getting his hands dirty, puppet master” Josh responds, returning the bottle of liquor to the cabinet above his head. “Funny guy you are, Josh. Too bad police see right through charm.” “Let me clarify something to you, Josh. You’re in way over your head here, and the only direction you’re going is downhill. When you bite off more than you can chew, you start to get sloppy. When you get sloppy, you get caught. And when you get caught, we get caught.” Staring out of the window beside his recliner, Josh watches the sun fully rise above the clouds and places his elbow onto the countertop. “So what is your plan, puppet master?” “Doesn’t work like guardian does” the man responds, prompting Josh to raise an eyebrow. “Alright, I can feel your eyebrow raising from over here. I’ll move on” The man says, popping a pill before downing it with vodka and continuing. “You’ve already planted the knife in Devine’s car. The hair is stashed on Deputy Helms. All you have to do is try to anonymously tip into the police that Deputy Helms was in the area suspiciously trying to conceal a bag of hair he was carrying the night that Warren was killed. You tell them about how you just happened to stumble across the crime scene photos online and noticed a chunk of Warren’s platinum gray hair cut unlike the rest.” “Okay, how do I know they’ll start looking into Helms instead of just brushing it off?” Josh asks, prompting a giggle from the man on the other line. “Oh Joshua, how you make me blush. Do you honestly think the police aren’t aware of the underground secrets this city is hiding? Most want to shut it down as soon as they can… Clears up a ton of headaches lingering around that cramped closet desk factory. The only reason it’s still around now is because they never had anything solid to pin anyone... to anything. To bust a cop for the murder of one of the Pipeline’s most trusted faces would only force them to start digging deeper. Eventually they’ll stumble across the real trail path… Nip the problem in the bud, clear up the headache and tear everything down from the inside outwards.” “The tipline” Josh says, earning a faint laughter in response. “You better start calling. I’ll talk to you soon” before the line goes dead, and Josh finally drops the phone from his ear, placing it into his pocket before making for the front door, grabbing his jacket, and slamming it shut behind him. | “Hello sanctuary” Eliza says, slamming the trunk fo her rental closed before walking through the iron gates of her off-grid home surrounded by the chilly mountain air and rustling tree leaves. *thud* The large pack of beer drops to the kitchen table in the center of a lightless, beautifully organized kitchen overlooking the scenic views of a naturally formed stream bordering her backyard from the rest of the wilderness just outside. Walking to the window and staring out at th view afforded to her, Eliza watches as a deer strols up to the stream to take a quick drink and shake off the leaves and dead grass it’s most likely been rolling around in. Dropping her hands to the corner of the sink, Eliza just continues to stare out at the deer, no reason for doing so, just taking the moment to appreciate the nature in front of her. Lifting its head from the stream, the deer looks on at the house, staring through the kitchen window and directly back at Eliza, standing like a statue at the edge of the stream, no reason in doing so, just deciding to. Finally, after a few brief moments of mutual gazing, the deer prances off into the forest, disappearing behind the line of trees dividing the blonde from the rest of the outer world. Turning back to her kitchen table, Eliza puts her purchased items away one by one before taking the box of hair dye in her hand. Reading the instructions on the back of the box, Eliza walks off from the kitchen and further into the house. Sitting at the edge of the tub, towel tucked around the top of her head, Eliza simply sits and stares off at the window ahead of her, lapping her eyes up with the dirt road she took to get here from top to bottom over and over again, waiting for the dye to dry. It’s this peace of mind that you can’t get in New York. The chance to just focus on nothing if you really, truly wanted to. It’s special. It’s a unique feeling that you can’t get unless you really wanted to. It’s perfect right now. It’s all I could ask for. Unravelling the towel from her head, Eliza looks on in the mirror as her newly jet black hair falls over her shoulders, still wet glistening in the light from the sun outside. Reaching to the side, Eliza grabs a hair dryer and powers it on. Now seated at the couch in her spacious living room, Eliza sits beside a small fire reading a book. “Looking for Alaska” reads the cover, allowing the woman to sit in silence and gaze over each word with as much attention to detail as the last. Now, sun stranded behind the sky as the moon takes its turn to light up the willing sky, Eliza sits at her kitchen table swirling a spoon around a bowl of cereal, staring off at nothing and taking a spoonful every once in a blue moon as the crickets chirping outside of her window fill the void of space left by the desolate forest around her. This is isolation. It’s both cruel and dignified at once. The city life can never afford anyone this measure of luxury… It’s something that needs to be sought rather than stumbled upon. This sort of void of interaction is warranted. After everything that’s gone down over the past few weeks, it’s exactly what I need to figure everything out. | “We’ll be following this story throughout the night and for more updates follow us on KLOC.com or download the KLOC app.” The television offers an explosion of light into the pitch black living room Eliza finds herself smothered under a blanket in just as the sound of rustling on the side of her home begins to flood through the cracked kitchen window. Turning back to face the kitchen, Eliza mutes the television and sits in place, waiting for anything more. Patiently waiting, Eliza curls her toes and gently removes the blanket from atop of her as the rustling returns. no , no no noe, nope, not a chance. Standing to her feet before grabbing at her phone of the coffee table, Eliza quickly dials 911 and holds the phone to her ear, inching closer to the kitchen window one step at a time. “911, what is your emergency?” The emergency operator on the other line asks, “I think there’s someone sneaking around outside my house” Eliza responds, whispering her way through the archway to her kitchen and up to the countertop, where she slowly pulls a kitchen knife free from the holder it imbeds. “Alright mam, I see your phone is pinging from the outer hills just outside of Manhattan, is that correct?” The operator asks, with Eliza acknowledging in kind. “Alright mam, I’m going to transfer you to the local police department, and I want you to tell them exactly what you’ve told me and they’ll send cars out for you A-S-A-P.” *redialing* The criss-cross like sound of buttons mashing in the background of the line throw Eliza off, keeping her still in place before hearing the rustling again just outside of the kitchen window. “Outer Manhattan Police Department” The voice responds, breaking Eliza free from the constrictions of her statue-like state. “My name’s Eliza Bradburry” The blonde whispers, clutching the handle of the knife in her hand like her life depends on it. “There’s someone outside my house sneaking around and whispering. I think there’s multiple people. I need you to send the police immediately.” “Okay ma’am, we’re sending cars out to your location now. Do you know if the people are carrying any weapons on them?” The voice asks, with Eliza unsure. “Okay, ma’am. Can you hear what they’re whispering?” Silencing her breathing, stepping quietly and leaning over the kitchen sink, Eliza takes a peak out of the corner of the window at two people armed with guns climbing up the stairway to her back porch. “You still haven’t told me why I’m here” A woman whispers, with the man ahead of her raising his finger to his lips and motioning for her to be quiet. “They’re both armed and the woman’s asking the man why she’s there with him” Eliza responds, trembling as her eyes move from the corner of the window to the backdoor just beyond the countertop, leading out to the back patio. “Send someone now!” Eliza whispers anxiously, tip-toeing to the backdoor rmed with the knife, ready to defend herself. Suddenly, the window to the door shatters into pieces, and a rock flies inside the home from outside, crashing with a jarring thud into the plaster-covered metal beam support column. Leaping backwards from the surprise, Eliza phone flies from her hand and out the kitchen window, crashing down the slope just beyond her house before coming to a rest at the bottom of the rock-covered hill. Reaching in and unlocking the door, a man’s hand falls back through the new hole in the door and twists the handle, pushing the door open with such a force that it plunges into the drywall behind it. Emerging from the doorway, Lieutenant Devine and another woman march inside, guns pointed directly at Eliza, ready to rush the intruders and go out fighting. “WOAH! WAIT UP! HOLD ON A SECOND!” The Lieutenant calls, pulling one hand from the barrel of his gun and waving it in the air, all five fingers sprawled out as he stops Eliza in her place. “We’re not here to hurt you! We just needed to talk to you!” Devine pleads, lowering the tension in the room as both he and Eliza aim their weapons firmly in the others’ direction. “So you break into my house to talk to me!?” Eliza shouts, to which Devine responds, “We needed to make sure no one expected it!” Tilting her head in a parade of confusion, Eliza nudges her shoulders, allowing Devine to explain. “We need to warn you about some issues you’re involved in” Devine says, cutting himself off noticing Eliza’s eyes pointed directly at the woman accompanying him. “That’s a Pipeline tattoo” Eliza says, pointing at the woman’s forearm, “You’re with the Pipeline.” “We know you’re not a threat to us. We have no reason to hurt you, and believe me, I don’t want to” Devine says, lowering his voice into an audible whisper. “We need you to know something very important. Okay? Are you following me?” Devine asks, Eliza catching her breath nods in response, allowing Devine to continue. “Joshua Lane, he’s your boss right?” Lowering her eyebrows, hand shaking, Eliza nods. “He’s a very dangerous man, Ms. Bradburry. Like… Like the evil kind… Of dangerous. And if he knew we were talking to you, he’d hurt you too.” Now completely puzzled, and it showing, Eliza shakes her head and chuckles. “He’d never hurt a fly. He hates ‘em, but he wouldn’t hurt ‘em.” Tilting his head and biting his lip, Devine quietly whispers. “It wouldn’t be the first time.” Now thrown off, Eliza swallows the spit in her mouth before catching her breath once more. “He’s done some very bad things. And he’s used person after person to do them.” After a moment of silence, Devine takes two steps forwards before locking eyes with Eliza. “Just like he used you.” Looking at the knife, trembling with her hand, Devine slowly lowers his gun and cautiously places it in the holster along his belt. “We’re not here to hurt you, we’re here to help you.” Lowering her knife to her hip in response, Eliza backs up to the end of the kitchen to remain a number of steps away from Devine. “I need you to get out” Devine says, catching Eliza off guard. “What?” Eliza asks, smiling to mask the sheer amount of a tailspin everything is turning into with every breath taken. “I don’t care where as long as it’s not here. It’s not safe here and you’re better off disappearing for now... At least until it’s safe to come back” Devine says, noticing the change in expression across Eliza’s face as she begins to realize the demand is not a joke. “Where will I go?” Eliza asks, to which Devine promptly responds. “I don’t know and I don’t care, again, as long as it’s not here. Pack a bag, travel light and on foot. I’ll give you two minutes. Hurry. I’m serious, I’ll figure out something, just get moving.” Looking around the house, Eliza shakes her way to her bedroom, retrieving a backpack and filling it with a few sets of clothes, tooth paste, a tooth brush and a towel. Marching back to her bedside, she pulls from her headrest a golden necklace and places it into the pocket. Turning back towards the door, she notices a white cord resting on top of her night stand. Shit I forgot the cops are coming. Okay, wrap this shit up, let’s go. Marching from her bedroom, Eliza shuffles through her kitchen cabinets and grabs a few granola bars and water bottles before turning to face Devine and the woman. “What are you waiting for? The door’s right there!” Devine says, pointing at the front door, ushering Eliza towards it. Slipping into her running shoes, Eliza briefly looks back into the kitchen, watching Devine and the woman stand in the kitchen, looking around her home before finally opening the front door and leaving. Rushing from the house, Eliza hurries along the dirt driveway and away from the house. Off in the distance, just as she prepares to start her long journey into isolation, the faint sounds of sirens blaring begin surrounding the quiet neighborhood. Ducking out of the way, the travelling woman slides down the side of a hill just off of her driveway and hides behind a convenient rock, covering her mouth to assure the refusal of any unwanted noise. *POP* A singular shot rings off from the direction she just came from, and a burst of light floods the dark home from the inside, only visible through the cracked kitchen window. Turning slowly, Eliza locks eyes on the only view point into her kitchen, hoping not to see another burst of light. Rather than light, Eliza watches on as Devine approaches the kitchen window and looks out into the dark treeline, locking eyes with the Lieutenant, unaware of her presence before he disappears further into the house. Taking her moment, Eliza scrambles down the hill and leaps over a congregation of rocks acting as a barrier between the bottom of the slope and a backroad, leaping just inches past a cracked cell phone lying in its rock covered grave. Screen dark and phone unresponsive the phone remains for a short few moments before the screen lights up once more, letting a weak flash of light engulf the ground. 1 New Voicemail: Josh. | I’ve been avoiding technology ever since. It’s not necessary, it just helps clear my head. I mean, if I made one wrong move that night, I’m not here. Maybe if I had mentioned anything about being on the phone with police, Devine would have been less compassionate with me. Or maybe the woman he shot instead would still be alive. Or maybe we’d both be dead and he’d try to pin it on me. See why I need some space to clear my head? I didn’t want to fake my own death… But regardless of what I wanted or didn’t want to do, there’s no denying that it’s serving me more good to go along with it than against it. Standing from her seat at the kitchen table, Eliza rounds the corner and climbs the dark staircase up to the second floor, rounding the bannister and heading for the end of the hallway, Eliza opens a door, releasing a plethora of different colored lights briefly enough to light the hallway up like a rave before disappearing into the room and shutting the door behind her, sealing with it the extraterrestrial-like nightlife beyond. | Fuzz like mechanical noise surrounds the lobby of a police station entryway as Josh pulls open the glass doors barricading the cold interior from the free outer world. “First and last name, please?” The officer stationed at a sole desk beside the entrance to the building asks, prompting Josh to jump from surprise, not having noticed her the first time he scoured the building. “Joshua Lane. I was asked to identify a body?” Demeanor unchanged, the officer asks Josh to remove his shoes and allow a second officer to go through his pockets. “No pockets. I figured there’d be an inspection, so I wanted to make it as easy as I could.” Removing his shoes, Josh watches an officer scope the overly-leathered penny loafers before nodding towards the first officer, prompting her to pick up the phone and place a call. “We have a Mr. Joshua Lane here, he’s stating you’ve asked him to come identify a body.” Consisting of mostly grunts, the conversation takes a few moments before the officer places the phone back to it’s holder, apologizing to Josh for his loss and thanking him for his compliance before directing him towards the end of the lobby. Approaching the front desk, Josh repeats himself and his reason for being present to the front desk worker. “Okay Mr Lane, right this wa-” The desk worker begins, only to be cut off by some man hidden behind the front desk wall. “I’ll let him know” The man says, prompting the desk worker to nod before the door to the interior cells swings open, and emerging from it is Lieutenant Devine, all smiles as he offers his hand to Josh. This cocksucker. What problem do you want to facilitate now, lambchop?” Refusing to shake his hand, Josh stares Devine in the eye, who takes note and lowers his hand, nodding. “Well, I want to thank you for your time, Mr. Lane. However, we’ve already had a family member come down and identify the body for us, so we’re sorry to have wasted it.” “Family member?” Josh asks, “Eliza doesn’t have any family…” Laughing to himself, Devine shakes his head and looks back at Josh. “Well she does. A brother. You might want to apologize to him for overlooking his grief since he just had to look at his sister with a bullet wound in her head. Quite the compassionate guy you are, Mr. Lane.” Turning back into the lobby, Josh watches a man stricken with grief tucking his head in his hands seated in the uncomfortably-padded, doctors office-like chairs. Looking back to Devine, Josh is left speechless as the Lieutenant pats him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Mr. Lane” Devine says, smiling at Josh as he locks eyes with him. “We’ll catch the person responsible for this heinous crime.” Scouring at the Lieutenant, Josh’s breathing grows rapidly as the chess game continues. “I’ll talk to you soon, Mr. Lane” Devine says, walking back to the door and getting buzzed in, disappearing behind the same heavy metal blockade the station divides itself from the rest of the world with. Instantly poetic. Disappearing behind something you think will save you but in reality will do nothing. You’re a snake, Devine. Your bite may be poisonous and your ability to camouflage with the dangers surrounding you is uncanny in resemblance to classic famous movie villains. But when you have a villain that believes his bite is stronger than it truly is… Believes his ability to blend in makes him completely invisible from the most obvious of perspectives… Believes they have all the power necessary to get away with whatever they may choose… They get bit. I don’t care how far I need to slither to get to you, Devine. Because one way or another, some day and at some point... I’m going to catch you off guard… And I’m… Going… To bite. The past few hours have not exactly been the most alluring of hours for me.
If my COO bleeding out in the street amidst a sea of shocked civilians wasn’t bad enough, I haven’t heard from Eliza since that night. She hasn’t come to work, and in all fairness, no one has since everything went down. It’s been two weeks. Not a peep from Devine, no sight of Jenn and Dale has been awfully quiet these last few weeks, which is probably in his best interest. I guess laying low would be the smart thing to do, but considering the recent string of trouble I’ve caused, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night without trying to do something to clean it up. The problem I have to face now is… How exactly do I do that? *phone ringing* “Hello, VeroSoft Industries CEO Joshua Lane’s desk, to whom am I speaking?” Faint, muffled sounds of breathing begin to flow through the phone like industrial music. “Who am I speaking to?” Without warning, the breathing in the background stops and silence ensues. Rather than question it further, Joshua simply sits in his chair and awaits a response, only for the line to be cut dead before any explanation can be made. Pulling the phone away from his ear, Joshua looks on into the work space outside of his office door before slowly lowering the phone back into its holder. Rising from his chair, Josh begins slowly walking to the door and starts peering out. Not a soul too suspicious, not a worker out of place. Walking towards the secretary’s desk, Josh plays it off as nothing, putting his smile back on and letting his charm do the rest. “Olivia, how have the past few weeks been?” Staring up from the computer ahead of her, Olivia smiles and pans her undivided attention to Josh. “Excellent, Mr. Lane. Everyone’s been great. How about yourself?” Ruffling through a jar of mints placed at the head of the desk, “Hanging in there. Trying to figure out where everything goes from this point on. Stupid cut out calls like those don’t really help matters, huh?” Tilting her head, Olivia asks. “Cut out calls? When?” Peeling open the plastic wrapper, Lane tosses the candy into his mouth before answering “Just a few seconds ago.” “No one’s called for your extension today, at least not from my desk.” “Oh. Really, huh? Well, I’m sorry to bring it up. Thanks for the mint, it’s appreciated!” Joshua says. “Of course! And if there’s anything I can help with, just let me know.” Olivia’s been picking up from where Jenn left off, and I’d be remise if I said she wasn’t handling the responsibility well. Though, it’s easy to overshadow Jenn at her own job. It’s through no fault of Jenn’s though… In her defense, it’s not exactly easy when the President of the company is constantly needing a few, we’ll call them strokes of good fortune. To Liv’s credit, she’s one hell of a smart cookie. Two degrees from NYU is nothing to laugh at, but when the workforce is as cut throat as today’s world is, it’s hard to find something stable and permanent. Thus, VeroSoft finds itself pleasured to land someone more capable than both Warren and Alec combined on its staff… Even if they’re stapling her behind a phone and a paper shredder. She’s got nothing to do with that call, I know that. She’s too new and, if we’re being honest here, doesn’t want to be here any more than I do. I know what my extension is, and unless they’ve sat behind that desk, no one else does. No one waits for a CEO to be available just to call them and hang up in their face. There is something more to this, that’s both a gut instinct and an understand of how these kind of scenarios always happen to play out. If I want to start cleaning up this mess I’ve made, this might be as good of a place to start as any. | “Hey, you’ve got Eliza. I didn’t answer, so I don’t want to talk to you. Leave me a message and maybe I’ll change my mind. Beep.” “Hey E, its Josh again. I know corporate isn’t pressuring anyone back into the office yet with all this paranoia going around, but I still need you to pick up. Who knows what’s going on at this rate? I just… I just want to make sure you’re okay. Please, again… Call me back.” I don’t know what E’s feeling right now. After what happened, I just started driving away until we got to her house. She didn’t say anything to me before she opened the door and walked off. I haven’t bothered trying to get up there yet because I don’t want to put her in a position where she has to face me in person when she’s not ready, especially when she’s not even ready to pick up the phone. 1 New Message: Jenn: Thanks for checking. I’m all good. Crashing at Dalton’s place for now. He’s keeping the bottle away from me. I’ll talk to you soon. Alec’s place has been, as you can imagine, sanctioned off as a crime scene. So while it’s a good thing to know that Jenn’s got an old friend to keep her safe, it’s quite disturbing to know that a place with as many dirty secrets as Alec’s condo is practically omitting radio silence from its interior. No news about anything of note found, nothing about the living room or hallway being suspicious. It’s like the floor safe and locked door didn’t even exist. And in reality, I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me it was actively scrubbed away from public knowledge. One problem at a time, Josh… You can try to figure out what was in that room later, but for now, you need to figure out who called you earlier. Dialing a number on his phone, Josh lifts it to his ear and waits. “VeroSoft Technical Department, how may I assist you?” Taking a seat in the orange leather chair at the end of his apartment, Josh watches the city life down below from his apartment window. “Yes, hi. I’m Joshua Lane, the VeroSoft CEO in floor eighteen of the Manhattan office building, extension 877. I was calling to request a copy of my call log from today, is there any way you can get that emailed to me?” “Just give me a second to plug your information, sir. I’ll be right with you.” After a few brief moments, the woman returns. “Hello, Mr. Lane. We’ve confirmed your extension and we’ll be forwarding you a list of your call logs from earlier today at your registered company email shortly. Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?” “No that will be all, thank you.” “It’s our pleasure. The only way from here is forward, you have a lovely evening!” That damn slogan. Vomit in literary form. After a few moments, an email appears on Josh’s phone, bringing with it the entirety of the calls sent and received from his office phone earlier. All numbers are ordinary and offer complete information aside from one, with an unregistered number delivered from Queens, New York. Queens? Who the hell could be calling me from Queens? Why the hell would anyone from Queens be calling me? Whatever the reason, I have a lead. Now the actual work has to be done. What to do with it. | When you’re the Steve Jobs of the data security world, you happen to find yourself able to just stumble into whatever you want. Dinner with an A-List celebrity too contrived to notice their obnoxious habits but don’t want anyone calling you out for it? Sure, Joshua Lane is your guy. Do you want a plaque placed outside of the busiest train station in the state? Well, for a small loan of a million dollars, we’ll get that going for you right away, Mr. Lane! Want a pop-up show in some lecture hall less than twenty-four hours in advance that just so happens to be located in satan’s butthole? Well then, Mr. Lane… Queens, New York is ready for you! It’s not that I hate Queens, I actually quite like being surrounded by misery and the stench of rotten beer, it’s sort of soothing. But the city doesn’t exactly do itself any favors… Poor public transportation systems, stereotypical New Yorkers around every corner, and above all else, the goddamn New York Mets. Did I mention embarrassing? Because… I should have. *beep beep* 1 New Message: Unknown ID: Didn’t take you long to come looking for me, did it? Too bad you stick out like a sore thumb in a sea of my fellow basement dwellers. See you tonight, Lane. Whoever it is trying to get under my skin most likely realizes by now that my level of amusement in trying to piece together this new puzzle far outweighs my fear. Could this be one of the Pipeline family’s better henchmen playing around with his dinner before he eats it? Sure. But that risk… Not knowing exactly what fate lies in my path is… Almost poetic. And I find that quite enthralling. “Hot dog! Get a dog right here!” Off to the side of the busy Queens street, a man with a dog by his side eagerly tries to get people to fall in love with his fresh product. Noticing, Josh steps onto the crosswalk and removes his glasses, lowering them to his hip before requesting the mans finest. “Holy smokes, you’re Joshua Lane!” Smiling and dipping his head to the ground, “I am, that’s true.” Putting together the pup, the cook begins piling on topping after topping. “What’re you doin’ in Queens? Don’t you got better places to be?” Eyes locked on the surprisingly good looking dog, “I would, but I’ve got some business to tend to here. Figured I’d get a bite to eat before hitting the to-do list.” Looking up at the umbrella, “Walt Dogs? I have a hunch your name might be Walt.” Chuckling with his head shaking, “Nah, my pops was. Mine’s Fred. Dad ran the cart right outside Shea for a few years ‘til I took over. He got sick and passed a few years before Citi Field opened. Figured I’d carve out a legacy with a new place, but the same cart, y’know?” Josh keeps looking at the man, not responding until Fred asks another question. “How ‘bout your pops? He get you into that software jumbo?” “No, no he wasn’t really there when I was younger” Josh says, taking in a deep breath. “It’s kind of a fifty-fifty chance they are now-a-days, huh?” Looking long off at the ground as a few people begin to start walking towards the stand, Josh continues. “I had to figure out on my own. Do things the way they felt right to me. And now I sit behind a desk all day and have a team of workers do everything for me, so how’s that for useless?” As both men laugh, Fred begins shaking his head. “Nah, you ain’t useless.” Tilting his head without response, Josh watches as Fred explains. “People like you and me got all the time they need on their hands. They don’t gotta answer to nobody… It makes you think you’re untouchable. But when we got all this time, we do a lot of self-reflectin’. When you look in the mirror too long, you start thinkin’ ‘bout more bad than good. Let me promise you, you’re better than you give yourself credit for. Sometimes people have bad thoughts because they don’t know what they got going on, everything’s all muddled. It happens for a reason.” “What reason is that?” Placing the final toppings on the dog before handing it to Josh, Fred responds. “Bad thoughts are like a poker hand. You see it before everyone else so you can figure out your chances without the pressure of everyone else knowin’ that. Once you do, you play your hand hopin’ the odds go in your favor. It’s all luck… You’ve had plenty of that so far, so don’t sell yourself short, sport.” Smiling through a grin, Josh retrieves a few hundred dollar bills from his pocket and places them in the tip jar before shaking Fred’s hand and walking off. As a crowd of people swarm Fred’s stand like flies to a trap, Josh takes a bite of the dog and continues on. | “Hey, you’ve got Eliza. I didn’t answer, so I don’t want to talk to you. Leave me a message and maybe I’ll change my mind. Beep.” “E, it’s Josh again. Listen, I don’t know whether you’re getting these or not, but I’m hoping you are. If you’re listening to these, I’ll be coming over to your place tonight to check in. I know you can handle yourself and everything, but I just want to make sure you’re doing okay and are safe. If you’re not hearing these… Well, I get it.” I know Eliza’s got plenty of strength to overcome anything, but watching your boss being butchered in the middle of the street is the kind of shit that scars people for the remainder of their lives. E’s got plenty of time in this world, so the more she can get over everything going on, the sooner she can get back to being herself. I don’t want to be putting her in an... *buzzing sounds* Unknown Caller. I don’t want to be getting off track from what I need to be getting to the bottom of. “Joshua Lane speaking.” “Yeah, no shit. I’m not mistaking a money-bloated CEO for a pizza joint.” Okay, our mystery man has a bit of an attitude. “Who are you and why are you fixated on me?” As faint laughing resonates from the phone lines, the skin on Josh’s arms begins to rise and the uneasy tension in the room begins to swirl like foam on the surface of a hot cup of coffee. “Is it not obvious enough? You’ve pissed off New York’s mafia underbelly and have unleashed a level of carnage that this town hasn’t seen since the thirties. It’s truly quite fascinating in all honesty.” Breaking the tension, filling the void with anger, Josh responds. “Who are you?” After a few breaths on the other line, Josh grows impatient and yells the question a second time. “You will know in due time. But since you’re a guy pretty receptive to analogies… Consider me your guardian angel.” “My guardian angel?” Josh asks, the man responds. “The one guy with enough eyes in the streets to direct you on the path you need to be on in order to fix this mess you’ve stirred, or I suppose in your words, clean it up.” “What do you want?” Josh asks, his voice growing calmer but his tone remaining harsh, like the cold blades of a razor wire fence. “I want things to work out for the both of us. I want to make sure I can count on you to not get arrested, and I want to make sure whatever it is that you do benefits me just as much as it does for you. Clear?” “No, not really clear dickhead” Josh responds, the vigor in his tone now showing. “Christ, not much a suit has against name calling, huh?” “I ain’t a…” Josh says, being cut off by the man on the other line now matching his tone. “You ain’t a suit. Blah blah blah, I’ve heard it a million times before. You certainly don’t like being called a suit, but I guess it’s not enough to not actually act like one, huh?” Swallowing a wad of spit stuck in his throat, Josh asks, “How do I know that I can trust you?” After a break of subtle laughter on the other end, the man responds. “Because we both know a plethora of things that no one else does. For example, why it’s suspicious that Devine’s not in contact with you as much as you think he probably should be.” Taking a sip of water, the man continues. “Let me be clear. He knows you had something to do with Warren’s murder, but he hasn’t figured out that your hands were more than just directing traffic. He’s been diving into your daily life, and while you may not know it, he’s been watching you from afar for days.” Playing along with little else to work with, Josh asks. “Okay, what else?” “There’s the spirit. Devine’s got a few guys undercover at your conference tonight, so choose your words carefully. Duck out the back door and have your driver pull around to the east-side fire exit. He’ll take your north-bound past a gray subaru, take a look in the front seat and you’ll see Devine right beside you. I guess it’s a good thing you splurged on those heavy-tinted windows.” “How do I know that I can trust you?” Smiling, leaning forward at his desk, the man responds. “Once you see Devine, you’ll know how much I’m capable of knowing… And doing for that matter.” After a pause, the man concludes. “I’ve got business to attend to right now so I’m afraid our conversation will have to be put on hold, Mr. Lane. When you get back into Manhattan, you’ll hear from me again. Talk to you soon, Mr. Lane.” Before responding, the call drops and Josh is left alone in the middle of the hotel lobby with his bag of clothes. Around him are normal people living their lives as they would any other day, but Josh is left constricted by the reality that everywhere around him lays the eyes of some omnipotent entity, trying to disguise control as care. Kill a mafia boss with a gold mine of child porn to his family name and get the only man other than myself he answers to pulverized in the street. If that wasn’t enough, I’m sure this indoctrination to whatever religion could be created out of this will be enough to satisfy anyone of their rigid desires to get the most out of life. | “Ladies and Gentlemen, we are pleased to welcome to the stage, the CEO of VeroSoft Industries, Mr. Joshua Elroy Lane!” Once more, name equals sufficient applause. Never gets old… Just stale and redundant. “Thank you, Mrs Kelvin for the warm welcome. And thank you Queens for the wonderful reception.” These shoes hurt and I want a shot of whiskey, but at least the spotlight isn’t blinding me with every blink. “When I started working in this field, I never assumed I’d find myself earning millions every year and being planted on the cover of magazine after magazine before I even turned 26. But the world works quickly, and it passes by without you even getting the chance to notice it. If you’re not careful, every bit of the world you see will pass you by like roadkill and before you know it, you’ll be looking at the hub of everything from the outside, wishing you had been more attentive.” These conferences hurt for more than one reason. The most notable is the fact that it always feels like I’m speaking as someone else. I never think of anything further than what I perceive it to be when I’m off on my own, but when I’m this character on a stage, I take every angle into consideration. The bigger reason is the fact that I’m a more complete person when I’m pretending to be the man I that hate looking at in the mirror than when I’m the man I tell myself I’m proud of being. That’s a bigger kick in the nuts than literally anything else. “But I think there needs to be something said about what truly goes on in the daily life of a company executive. We don’t look at that central hub of everything passing us by alone. We have teams of engineers, script writers, service responders and tons more than pretty much make me expendable. I earn millions every year just sitting on my ass as other people do the work for me, while I get all the credit.” Pushing the boundaries of what I can get away with is the most enthralling victory I get. Having the chance to blur the lines between the two faces I put on and managing to work another day the way I did the last in spite of that makes everything worth it. If I need to choose my words carefully, I may as well do it my way. “Hundreds and thousands of incredibly smart and strategic people far more capable than myself are truly what makes VeroSoft run smoothly and efficiently. They are the ones that keep VeroSoft moving in one direction… Forward.” It may seem ingenuine, and perhaps it’s pandering. But, credit should be given to where credit is due. I’ll still be looked at as a hero and a visionary regardless of what I say now, but at least I’ll have acknowledged the work of people that probably need a boost more than anything else. “I look at people for what they truly are. All around New York, the most powerful people have dark and often times ugly secrets that they don’t want anyone to know, and it’s cost me a few friends of mine along the way, especially over the past few weeks.” I may be giving credit to where it’s due, but avoiding suspicion surely helps my cause, right? It’s a pill worth having to swallow. “People living life on the edge end up finding themselves victim to the risk they’re always seeming to play with. It’s just the way that life works. But rather than pretend like that’s uncommon and unknown, I’d rather be open about it. When you play with fire, you’re bound to get burned every once in a while until you stumble your way into an inferno. When you can afford gallons of water to extinguish the flames, it helps. But the trouble never finds a way to go away. I know what I’m surrounded with, and rather than look at it as inherently bad or evil, I look at it hoping for the best. Hoping that the dark truths that some people hide aren’t reflective of themselves, but the situation they are surrounded with and grow up in. It makes things easier to understand. And sometimes… We need things to show themselves like we’re kids. Make things easy so we’re better adjusted to the challenges everything else shuffles in our paths.” Taking a pause, looking out into the crowd, speechless and anxiously awaiting his next words, Josh takes a deep breath. “Challenges make us better. It made me the man that I am today, and it made VeroSoft the industry-shifter that it’s symbolized for being. You have to take a chance every once in a while to elicit a response. When you listen to that response, you can begin to change for the better. Understand what you’re working with more fluently. Understand who, and what, you’re trying to be.” Looking around the room before fighting a tear from his eye, Josh concludes. “You can’t change the way the world spins. But you damn sure can create enough of a change to influence its tilt. You don’t need to bite off more than you can chew to change the world. You just need to know what you’re biting into.” Applause erupts, and Josh watches out at the crowd, speechless with a thousand thoughts fluttering through his head until he notices a man in a dark gray suit stand from his seat and walk to the doors. “Sir” Josh calls out from the crowd, forcing the man in the suit to change directions, staring on at Josh at the head of the stage, attention fixated on the man in the crisp black suit and pearly-white tie. “Got somewhere to be?” Josh asks, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head, challenging the man to return to his seat. “Family emergency. Kid’s sick.” “Wow” Josh responds, tucking his hands into his pockets and lowering his tone of voice. “Hundreds of dollars spent for nothing, wouldn’t you say?” A few moments go by with the crowd too confused to say anything, only watching along as the conversation drops like a feather from a pillow. “Hope your kid gets better, man. I would hate to have you skip out on me again.” Sensing hostility and piecing together the all too-uncomfortable puzzle, the man smirks and acknowledges his appreciation for Josh’ best wishes before walking off in silence, adjusting his suit jacket over his chest and biting his lip in aggravated fashion. “Now” Josh says, turning back to the audience, lifting one hand out of his pocket and raising it into the air, posing with it balanced steadily amidst the tension-flooded air. “Where were we?” | “Great show, Mr. Lane. Thank you so much for coming out here!” The stage attendant says, shaking Josh’s hand rapidly. “Easy there, killer. I’m still just a regular person, shake my hand as you would anyone else.” The shaking decreases, but Josh remains noticing the sweat of the palm of the attendants hand. “Getting there, you’ll work on it.” Turning from the stage attendant to greet the remainder of the event hall staff, Josh is pulled aside and handed an envelope, sealed and stamped from an undisclosed location. Walking aside, Joshua heads back for his dressing room and closes the door behind him. Opening it, Joshua finds pictures of a home and a bag of hair placed in a shoe box in the closet of the prior mentioned home. At the bottom of the envelope is a letter, folded over and over again and taped to the bottom. “Josh. It wasn’t easy, but it’s done. If you need anything else, I’ll be hard to find…. But not impossible. - D” Disappearing act or not, as good as he is at it, Dale never fails to get the job done. Give him a task and what he wants for it and he’ll make sure you get out of him what you give. Now, perhaps the question on anyone and everyone’s mind is “What does giving Officer Helms a bag of Warren Duane’s hair have to do with getting rid of the Pipeline Family issue?” And the answer to that is simple. Officer Helms is one of Lt. Devine’s closest allies. He trusts him with whatever task he needs done, and Helms is to Devine much of what Dale is to the vigilante group that pursues him… A man you’re guaranteed will come through on what he says he’ll do. Dale is reliable to us the same way that Officer Helms is to Lt. Devine, so if Helms goes down, whatever it is that Dale’s involvement in this matter is, will become much clearer than before. Whether he’s a small cog in the wheel or an imperative piece to the wheel itself, we’ll all find out as the dominoes start to crumble. But that’s not good enough for me. If I want this thorn in my side gone, I need to rip the root of the tree it came from out of the ground. I don’t just need Officer Helms to go down, but I need him to take Lt. Devine down with him. So how do I do that? Well, I already did. That car ride Devine gave me a few weeks back, the one I mentioned would come in handy? Well… It definitely did come in handy… Handy enough to discard of a murder weapon in such a way that it incriminates the person whose name is connected with the same date and time the car was out of police line. What do you know? The same car was signed out by Lt. Devine for a vast number of hours before, after and immediately during the time Warren Duane was killed. How do i know this? I need to keep some secrets to myself. “Mr. Lane?” comes a voice from the entry to the dressing room, “Your car is ready” the voice says, ushering Josh out of the room and down a long, narrow and dark hallway into a back ally of the building. Turning the corner, Josh sees his town car waiting beside the entrance to a nearby nightclub, waiting for him. “Thank you, I appreciate it” Josh says back to the man, who assures him of it being his pleasure before returning to the event hall. Entering the car, Josh sits in his regular seat, watching out the window as the car begins taking its regular route, and Josh watches Devine’s car, in the place the anonymous guardian angel said it would be, still watching to find Josh. Slumping back into his seat, Josh pulls out his phone and turns it on, noticing a lack of notifications, more specifically a lack of notifications from both Eliza and the guardian angel. After a few touches, Josh places the phone to his ear before awaiting a response. “Hey, you’ve got Eliza. I didn’t answer, so I don’t want to talk to you. Leave me a message and maybe I’ll change my mind. Beep.” “Hey E, I’m on my way out of Queens and heading to your place as we… As I speak. I hope you’re doing alright, as per usual. We don’t have to talk for too long if you don’t want to, I just really want to stop by and make sure you’re doing alright. Please, please call me back.” Dropping the phone to his lap, Josh watches the town around him float by, and every man, woman and child becomes one with the world moving past him just the same as the buildings, cars and flashing lights. Just before pulling onto the first bridge out of Queens, a few blocks away from Citi Field, Josh looks outside of his window to see Fred and his gleaming hot dog cart serving a crowd of customers amidst the crowded Queens streets. Smiling, Josh turns to face away from the window and watch the street ahead as the car begins its journey back home. | “I’m just not the biggest birthday guy, N. It’s just another day!” says Josh, wearing a smile of pride as a woman behind him extends her arms outwards, clutching onto a well wrapped gift box. “Please” The woman says, “I don’t need an excuse to give you a gift. It just so happened that one popped up!” Turning back to the woman with a sarcastically defeated grin, Josh takes the box from the woman’s hand and begins unwrapped the silk red bow atop. Finally uncovering the box inside, Josh lifts the lid and retrieves a dark blue box, which he opens to reveal a watch with the words “The only direction is forward” engraved in its metal band. “Do you like it?” The woman asks, just as Josh pulls from the box a note tied to the watch holder inside. “Josh, keep going. Love, Nora.” Lifting his gaze from the watch to the woman, Josh lowers the box to his side before walking up to Nora and taking her in his arms, placing his chin on her shoulder and giving her a peck on the neck. “I take that as a yes” Nora responds, earning a giggle out of Josh as he responds “I love you.” Giving her a second peck on the cheek, Josh moves his head from Nora’s shoulder to look her in the eyes, only to stumble backwards in shock, falling to the ground. “NORA!” Josh screams, watching her face as her eyes turn a lifeless white and her skin grows pale. “NORA! NORA ANSWER ME!” Josh screams as the woman in front of him goes completely limp, her jaw falls open as her toothless gums take precedence. Placing his hand to the ground, Josh attempts to slowly stand to his feet, inching closer to the woman with each breath before, slowly, the woman begins falling forward, inching closer to the ground alongside the sound of the creaking wood beneath her feet, responding to absence of pressure further and further until the woman finally falls completely over, toppling like a broken mannequin onto Josh, pinning him to the floor with authority. *buzz buzz* Jumping awake in the backseat of his town car, Josh rubs his eyes quickly before reaching into his pocket and retrieving his phone, being met with the caller ID of “Unknown Caller.” Sliding his finger across the screen, Josh lifts the phone to his ears before raising the window of the divider between the front seat and the back. “Hello” Josh says, scrambling to catch his breath. “Believe me now?” The caller asks. Taking a sip of a drink in the background before the chimes of glass-on-glass ring throughout the phone like a bad headache. “Fine, I’ll let my guard down a little bit. What do you want from me?” Josh asks, slouching into his seat and loosening his tie. “I told you. I want to help you find a way to help me. Were you not paying attention, Josh?” “What does that mean? What does me not getting caught by the police have to do with you getting what you want?” Josh asks, looking around outside the window as the dead of night surrounds him on the outskirts of Manhattan. “Listen to me carefully and pay attention, Josh. You’ve got a hefty target on your back. I’m trying to make sure anyone with an arrow to shoot is sending them off with a broken bow, do you understand?” “Not really, but I’m following you so far.” Taking another sip, the man on the other line continues, resting his feet up on the glass countertop ahead of him as he does so. “The Lieutenant knows you’re involved in Warren Duane’s murder. The Lieutenant is close to figuring out that you were in Alec and Jenn’s apartment on the night Alec was murdered. The Lieutenant is beginning to convince Jenn that you had something to do with her boyfriend’s slaying. There is no longer a soul you can turn around to for help as long as you don’t have something to assure your innocence with. Let me make this one thing clear, whether it’s Jenn or the Lieutenant, people will start talking and the word will start to spread. So let me clarify this little piece of information to you Josh, when word begins to linger, people end up exploring into the past more than they would have before. And I’m fully aware that there are a few dark memories you have in your past that don’t take too much effort to unearth. So… Make of that information what you will.” Breathing increasing in rapidity, Josh struggles to find the words to respond with before being cut off by the man on the other line. “The only reason I’m morally alright with helping you is the fact that I know what you’re doing is backed by what you believe are good intentions. You’re not killing random people on the street, you’re killing bad people that would easily be able to buy their way out of the courtroom free men. You’re doing something that cannot be bought or bribed and rightfully so. I agree with what you’re doing, but I also know that when people do what you’re doing for a long enough time, the lines between what is morally good and bad to them begin blurring heavier and heavier until the line no longer exists. I’m not saying it’ll happen to you going forward, but I think we’re both open enough to understand the fact… Josh… That it wouldn’t be the first time. At least, not for you.” Eyes becoming watery, Josh shakes his head in disagreement. “It didn’t happen like that” Josh says, only to find himself cut off from explaining further. “I don’t care how it happened, Josh. What matters is that it did happen. And it’s because of what happened that you realized just how corrupted the justice system truly was. It wasn’t alright and you decided that it needed to pay, or at the very least, the people that gamed the system needed to. So whatever reason was present for why everything unfolded in the way that it did, it was what it was. There’s no traveling around that now, Josh.” Trembling, Josh gathers his breath and calms himself down, asking calmly “What do I do.” “I’ll tell you right now… Very few people are truly as they appear. Good kids have some dark traumas and rude people have some broken souls, it’s just the way the world spins. But, as you said, there are things you can do to influence its tilt. What you’re doing is something that most people see as divisive, but I’m on the side that looks at it as morally right. People that deserve to be punished aren’t getting what they deserve, and that’s not right. Someone needs to give them the justice they deserve, even if they have to sneak around and bend the rules a little bit. I want the same thing that you want, Josh. The only difference between you and I is the fact that you’re the one getting your hands dirty. As long as you stay out of prison, we both get to watch the people that deserve punishment get what’s coming to them. So with that being said, are you willing to work with me or not?” This guy, whomever he is, he’s got power and he’s got connections. I’m not someone that refuses to acknowledge when someone’s got the upper hand over me, I just never say it aloud. If that is HONESTLY all he wants, then perhaps staying on his good side would be within my best interest. “Fine. Don’t screw me over, and I’ll keep to what I need to keep to.” Silence fills the line, the lack of dialogue lingers until it turns from ominous to dreadful, finally the man on the other line breaks the dread like a sharp knife through a line of rope. “Good. I’ll be in touch. Don’t get yourself in trouble.” The line cuts off suddenly, and Josh lowers the phone to his lap, staring at his phone screen before it fades off to black. Returning to his regular position, Josh settles down and returns to facing the window, noticing the city he’s become all too comfortable with begin surrounding him like a swarm of bees to a garden of vibrant flowers. | “Any chance you can keep the motor running? I don’t think I’ll be long” Josh says, earning a thumbs up from the driver ahead, anticipating a short stay at Eliza’s. Through the winding, remorseless backroads of quiet New York, trees in the dark forest begin illuminating in a subtle blue and red, flashing with the lights ahead as the town car carrying Josh begins slowly inching by one police car after another. The calm drive begins one of surprise and confusion, as the number of red-and-blue flashing cars increases the closer to Eliza’s home that the town car gets. One after another, patrol cars line the small, quiet backroads like ominous paper dolls until the car is stopped suddenly halfway up the final hill to the home. Pulling the release of the door, sending the heavy metal seal flying open with force, Josh climbs out of the backseat and faces the top of the hill, flooded with police cars and the officers that drive them. Out of the blue, an officer comes up behind Josh and taps him on the shoulder as a second begins talking with Josh’s driver. “What’s going on?” Josh turns to ask the officer, a puzzled look covers his face like a blanket in the dead of winter. “I can’t disclose anything to you or anyone else yet sir, I’m going to need to ask you to leave unless you have business here” the officer responds, attempting to nicely inform Josh that he needs to leave. “I’m Josh Lane. I work for VeroSoft, this is my subordinates house. Is she okay?” The officer attempts to respond, only for a second officer to walk over to the now anxious Josh with a calm manner. “Sir, you said this was your employee’s house?” The officer asks, prompting Josh to turn to him and respond in kind. “Sir, I regret to inform you that a body has been found inside the home earlier today. We have not identified the individual’s remains yet, but if you can tell us anything about the person that owns the home, it would be appreciated.” Stunned into silence, Josh stands staring blankly at the officer, who continues to try for whatever he can get out of Josh, “I know this is difficult, but we’re already on borrowed time. Anything would help.” Turning his attention from the officer to the house ahead, Josh notices Lieutenant Devine walk down Eliza’s front steps with her shoes and jacket in bags, enraging Josh, remaining stood in silence, fuming with anger, unresponsive as his eyes narrow, and his top teeth burrow into his bottom lip. Devine. You’re dead. No one ever thinks about what happens to an Army stranded in battle AFTER their war general is met with a bullet to the head… Or in this case, a few gashes in the chest.
The aftermath of such an event often leaves a much more direct punch into the core of the issue than what came before it… But it also lets you draw out the people hiding behind that general’s lead to show you EXACTLY who and what they are. In my defense, I have never known any greater challenge then dealing with an organization handling the transportation of individuals unfortunate enough to find themselves held captive within the restrictions of those that paid for them, so I could be getting myself into waters neck-deep here… But when you don’t have a leader, you often find yourself in the dilemma of dealing with their second-in-command. And in Warren Duane’s case, he had many great candidates to choose from. People who knew how to disappear and make others do the same, people that knew exactly how to spin someone around their finger, and people that knew exactly which correct connections to make to ensure any future plans go according to the exact guidelines they’re supposed to. However; regardless of whom it may be that any entity chooses to success their leader… This new generation of army general is bound to, in one way or another, get… sloppy. And when the head of your organization is a rich, powerful and extraordinarily bland businessman found brutally murdered in the backbone of New York’s most rigid environments... Emotions tend to take precedent over professionalism. That’s where you come into play, Lieutenant Devine… Storming through the front door and up to the secretary’s desk demanding to speak to Alec Cerine. “Right this way, sir.” Oh, Jennifer. How you have no clue about the events directly unfolding beneath your nose I have no idea. But… I’m hoping you’re at least smart enough to realize that something fishy is underway here. Marching alongside Jenn, Lt. Devine has clear business to attend to, and he’s not trying to hide it. He’s clearly trying to piece his emotions together, I’ll give him that… But he is not trying, in the slightest, to hide the fact that he is on the verge of breaking under the pressure of whatever it may be, clear or unclear, dangling directly above his head on a cable anxiously waiting to snap. “Josh” calls out a voice from beside the man, holding a cup of black coffee in his hand, a voice belonging to none other than Eliza. “Over here, now.” I can’t deny her request. I still hadn’t responded to her text from Saturday night… And if that’s not bad enough… I hadn’t responded to the 19 follow-up messages afterwards. “What the fuck? You manipulative bastard! Why haven’t you been responding to my texts?” Good thing I practiced. “My phone’s broken. I haven’t gotten it fixed yet. What do you expect me to do?” She’s glaring at me like she knows something is up. Remember, she’s smart. She knows her way around a lie, and that… That is a bad sign for me, regardless of how convincing I can be. “Your phone is broken? On the same weekend one of the most powerful men in this company is butchered and left for dead in the middle of nowhere? Fucking really?” Well… I wouldn’t say butchered. “I’m sorry. Is a pot of boiling water supposed to care about someone I know being killed? I don’t think water and phones make exceptions for events of interest, E.” Grunt of frustration, quiet and yet unmistakable. You’re either expecting me to think in some way and are phenomenal at acting well enough to throw me off guard and convince me that you’re convinced, or you’re truly convinced and are ready to move on. “What did you find out?” Pulling Eliza into my office is the safest bet I have to make sure no one overhears me, and convince her that what I am saying carries weight. Into Josh’s office, Lane closes the door shut and sits at his chair. Handing Eliza an envelope, Josh explains. “I paid someone to set up a meeting and grab an envelope from Warren. This is what he gave me. It was a few hours before Warren was killed, and with what’s inside it… I think someone who didn’t like competition tried to put a silence on Duane as soon as they could. Telling the truth doesn’t always have to mean telling the WHOLE truth… Just enough to satisfy whomever is trying to know it. “Oh my god. This… This is…” Cutting her off, Josh replies. “I know… This is big.” Shaking her head, Eliza denies. “No… You see these signs?” Leaning forward, Josh notices Eliza pointing to the background walls on every picture, noticing the same bronze and black emblem painted directly above the victim’s heads. Confused, Josh asks for further information. “What am I supposed to be looking at?” Looking into Josh’s eyes, Eliza responds. “That’s the Pipeline Family symbol, Josh.” Looking directly back up to Eliza, now connecting his eyes with hers, Eliza concludes. “Warren’s in the mafia.” Jesus… Fucking… Christ… Okay… That’s a much bigger army than I was expecting. | Shit, shit shit shit, fucking shit. I just performed an act of war against the goddamn mafia. I… I killed the mafia boss, I didn’t just step on their toes… I sliced them off and threw them in a pot of boiling water. What the fuck did I just do? Nope. Not going there. I’m not about to rethink my entire thought process just to keep a disgusting cretin to society alive any longer than he was or had to be. He’s dead and he was humiliated… That’s what he deserved. But despite the gravity of this entire situation getting flipped onto its head, don’t think I failed to notice your worried and fear-filled glare at Alec when you walked through his door, Lt. Devine. You can tell a lot about someone when they’re met with a challenge they hadn’t anticipated for a moment… And that peer out into the rest of the office before shutting the door to Alec’s office said quite a lot. You know something you’re probably not supposed to. Whether it has something to do with me, or with everything surrounding this situation I have yet to find out. But you better be sure… I WILL find out. “Hey there, Josh. What can I get for you?” A middle-aged man standing behind a countertop asks as Josh walks through the door, tie loosened and hair frizzled a bit. “What’s new, Lou?” Lou’s a kind fellow. He’s had a past with drugs, never selling or importing, just taking. With some effort and a few years of rehab, Lou’s proof that you can come back from low points and still live the dreams you most covet. “Same old, same old. The shop’s $8k in the hole.” Well… Almost. “It could always be worse. At least you’ve still got shipments coming in.” Chuckling below his breath, Lou smiles. “Yeah, but it ain’t much use when you’re already on the tab. Then shipments start coming in a few days late with nothing you can do about it.” Lou’s turned his life around, and all he really wanted was to find success under his own accord in a city reliant on using other people to climb the ladder to fame and fortune. Sadly, that kind of desire comes built in with the fact that it costs more than one can be comfortable with right out of the gate. Life’s hard. But Lou will get through it as he always tends to do. It’s just going to have to come at the cost of cutting some corners. “Medium dark roast. Two sugars.” Lou starts smirking, looking up at Josh who can’t figure out why. “What’s up, Lou?” When Lou smirks, you tend to realize he’s figured out something before you have. “Who is it?” Tilting his head, Josh subtly shakes in confusion. “Who’s the girl” Lou asks. “What do you mean? I’m not following…” Walking over to the countertop, Lou starts making Josh’s coffee, all whilst smiling at Josh. “When you order anything other than a straight up black coffee, it’s usually because you’ve got something on your mind… But sugar?” Placing the pot of coffee back into its holder before reaching for two packets of sugar, ripping them open at the same time before dumping them in simultaneously, Lou concludes, handing Josh his coffee with the stirring stick placed diligently through the opening of the lid. “Sugar means it’s more of a someone than a something.” Lou’s got a way with understanding people. He knows what makes them tick and he knows how to get them going. He’ll use that to his advantage, that’s why he’s managed to stay afloat despite being $8k in debt. So if Lou’s suggesting that I have someone on my mind, who am I to disagree with him? After all, there’s plenty of people I’d be worse off not having on my mind right now. “I’m not saying you guys are intimate, but your way of dealing with people you believe to be worth something in some way or another, Josh… Is by taking life’s sweet and savory beauties and fixating on them like a deer in headlights. Just don’t stand still for too long.” Taking his coffee, Josh stuffs a $100 bill in the tip jar before responding. “I’ll let you know when I figure that out.” Turning to walk to a seat near the window, Josh’s progress forward is halted when the bells on the door begin ringing, and walking in comes one of the people in question flooding Josh’s mind. Well, hello Lieutenant. I’m assuming this isn’t you stumbling upon me by chance, is it? “Coffee. Medium” Lt. Devine says over to Lou, waving him off as if to say ‘make the coffee and get this over with’ before turning to me, putting on the least-convincing, nice-guy smile I have seen in years. “Josh Lane, right? Yeah, we’ve worked with each other a few times. How’ve you been?” I don’t know enough about Eric Devine, other than the fact that something is fishy with him, to make an educated guess as to whether or not I mind him… But I think I can take an educated guess up to this point… Just to be sure… I don’t think I’m going to like him very much. “Just peachy, Lieutenant. How about yourself?” “Not so bad, Mr. Lane. A few things popping up in the headlines every now and then, but nothing the NYPD won’t get to the bottom of... If you know what I mean.” If I knew everything, I would be able to decide perfectly whether to kick you in the balls or not. The problem is the fact that I don’t know everything, and therefor have to reside beside my theory that you weren’t actually born with any… So my efforts would be for nothing. “Coffee. Medium. $2.79” Lou says, handing the cup out to the officer. Confident, Lt. Devine deviates from his intentions just long enough to turn to Lou and respond. “Cops don’t pay. Enjoy the law and order.” I don’t like him very much. “Can we sit down and have a catch up?” Definitely not a chance encounter. “I would, but I’ve got some catching up to do with some friends downtown. I’ve got to get home and get ready at some point, y’know?” Josh says, playing innocent and laying on a think smile to cover the truest distain lurking within his soul. “Nonsense” Devine says, “Tighten up the tie and find a comb somewhere and you’ll be ready to go! I’ll even drive you!” Not this again… Well, I mean… He’s offering to drive… That could, y’know, come in handy. “If you insist, i guess I have no problems with it!” Walking over to a seat by the window, Devine and Josh sit face to face. “Man, this tailspin the city’s about to get into is insane, right?” Squinting his eyes, Josh leans his head to the side. “Oh, with Warren? The murder? This town’s gonna go nuts! Well-off, wealthy men with a family legacy to leave behind getting butchered in some random New York alleyway? This town is not going to look pretty.” This town was doomed to an eternal ugliness the second you were promoted to Lieutenant, Devine. Scum like yourself are responsible for taking enough bribes to ensure every bridge in the city falls behind ten years in safety just so rich cunts scattered across the parts of New York 90% of the population will never be able to afford to live in can make a few extra bucks. You’re sick. You’re irredeemable. I would think whomever wanted to elicit chaos in this town would be doing it a massive favor. Eventually, Devine… You’d have enough on your plate to choke. “It doesn’t look good, at all.” After a brief standoff of silence, Devine asks, “You going to drink that?” “Eventually” Josh responds, “I’m just waiting for it to cool off.” Nodding, Devine asks, “If you drink it while it’s hot, it soothes the throat better. Bullshit. Slouching back into his chair slowly, enough for Devine to notice the tension in the room rising, Josh responds, “Agree to disagree, Lieutenant.” Looking down to his drink, Devine nods before changing the subject. “So what did you think of him?” “Hm?” Josh responds. “Warren” Devine answers. “Oh. He was… Something…” Honestly, I was at a loss for words. The truth was that he was a monster… But that kind of claim could be incriminating. The lie would be that he was an honest man trying to serve his late father proud… But I would have forced myself to throw up before I could even finish saying the word ‘honest.’ “And what do you describe as ‘something’?” Devine asks. Placing his right arm over his left, joining it in his lap, Josh responds. “Someone who did whatever he was meant to do, and probably… Knowing what happens to people with a lot of money and a lot of ways to screw people over in making it… Probably pissed off one too many people.” “So you think it was someone who wanted revenge?” Devine asks, raising an eyebrow whilst leaning into the table. Meeting Devine halfway, Josh plants both of his hands against the surface of the table and replies. “I think everyone wants revenge. I just think people directly fucked over want it a little more than others.” The cafe is empty aside from myself and Devine, so the silence wafting throughout the air is noticeable enough to hear Devine swallowing the saliva in his mouth. “And who did he fuck over so much that they went to the lengths of killing him to get revenge?” Devine asks, prompting Josh to smile out of the corner of his mouth and raise his own eyebrow. “I don’t know, Lieutenant. I thought that was your job to find out?” Smiling his own smile, only hiding anger behind it, Devine nods before responding. “I guess it is… At least for now.” He knows something about me that I didn’t hide well enough. If it was evidence linking me to Warren’s muder, I’d be in cuffs by now… So that’s not it. But if it’s something placing me in the area around the time of the murder, that’s a big issue. I don’t have an alibi. So if there’s reason to link me to Warren’s killing, I have no margin for error. I have to take advantage of every small opportunity that I see. “Speaking of jobs to do, Lieutenant… I’ve got a job to meet up with a few friends in about fifteen minutes and you still owe me a ride!” Devine lifts his hands into the air before complying, standing from his seat before joining Josh in his path towards the door. Turning back to the front counter, Josh subtly salutes Lou before calling, “See you soon, Lee!” Squinting his eyes for a moment before lifting his chin, Lou salutes back and returns the favor. “Anytime, Josh! I look forward to it!” | “Here we are, Josh. Thank for your help today” Devine says, at least now consciously making an effort to hide the disgust he has for the man sitting in his passenger seat. “Thank you for keeping me company!” Josh replies, “Have a safe ride home!” “I will. You enjoy your night!” Devine says before waving and driving off, disappearing into the vast sea of lights in the night. Walking through the door of Takeover Bar and Grill, Josh finds himself engorged in the dim lights of the walkway, scouring the immediate vicinity in hopes of finding what he is looking for, trying effortlessly to blend in with the rest of the crowd on the slim chance someone has him within their line of sight. They say the best way to blend into a crowd is by looking exactly like those around you, but still standing out enough that your lack of presence isn’t shady or noteworthy. Keep to yourself and remember what you’re aiming for, but have a drink every now and then and make a passing comment to someone about politics or some shit like that. Everyone here is putting on a front, that’s been clear since the doors opened… But some people are worth more than others, and with that worth, they carry information more vital than the rest. “Dale Rover, what a pleasure it is to see you!” Josh says, offering his hand whilst trying to remain as audible as possible, competing against the sound of shredding guitars and beer cannister-like drums. “Always a pleasure the same, Joshua!” Dale Rover may be the most disgustingly unique man you’ll ever find dirt on… There are many reasons for that, but the biggest is the fact that whatever you may find on him… He probably has eight times that on you. If you lay a finger on Dale, he’ll have that sucker removed by the top of the hour. Any damage more permanent, and you’ll find yourself trapped at the bottom of the ocean with a clock and an air bubble, just so you can suffer before you go. He’s remorseless and he’s ruthless. For that very reason… He’s probably the only person in this city that is truly… Without any doubt… Untouchable. “What can I find myself doing by the end of the night at your behest, Lane?” Retrieving from his coat pocket a small plastic baggie of hair, Josh slides it across the table to Dale before following through by sliding him a post-it note and a check. “Deputy Helms and ten thousand dollars” Dale says, “You need a framejob and… Appearing from the extra two-grand, an alibi.” Dale is one of those rare cases I stumble across where they do so much bad, but somehow always prove to do the right thing more often than the wrong. He’ll let a pedo or two slip, but he’ll also put human traffickers behind bars by the thousands. The bad that he lets go is somehow justified by the amount of good that overshadows it. I mean, I took a dangerous mob boss off of the streets, even if I was unaware of full scale of what he was doing, but still killed a man in the dead of night, so who am I to judge the moral of bad and good? If you’re a bad man, you do and offer more harm than good. That’s where justice becomes deserved. “We both know that I’m aware of what you do around here… So… Considering we also both know exactly who was behind Warren’s massacre, I’ll offer you a friendly piece of advice for being gutsy enough to pick a fight with the mafia.” Leaning in, Josh listens in as Dale gives him a freebie. “Devine is the second in command. Anything happens to Warren and he takes over a rowdy group of assholes wanting revenge. If you give it enough time and stay clean about it… Framing this Helms guy could lead to a few months of deep diving that ultimately could connect right back to the Lieutenant himself.” Standing from his seat before grabbing at his coat, checking his pockets before putting it on, Dale concludes and walks off. “Lay a few things on the path to keep people following and you’ll have made quite the mess for the NYPD and the Pipeline. Take the two most dangerous birds out with the same perfectly placed bowl of poison.” | New York is a bold and chaotic jungle that most people only ever dream of seeing the pretty and prosperous side of. It’s a dangerous game they play, standing in the middle of Times Square and assuming the rest of the city will be as beautiful and bright as the central hub of town is. Once they flip the cards to reveal their hand, they notice the gross and grave underbelly of the truth this city is hiding. Corruption in the heartbeats of what the city depends on, and favoritism blatantly aimed at the most powerful the city has to offer. Every last drop of filth this city hides is bound to take it to the bottom alongside it. I never intended to get my hands tied up in it’s hidden blemishes. All I wanted to do was make sure that the people most deserving of it suffered the punishments they most deserved to face. I get that sometimes we bite off more than we can chew, but does anyone ever stop to smell the roses for a second? Think about why exactly they’re tied up in the mess they find themselves in? Perhaps if I did that, I could find the possibility that I have a greater hand to play than the one I originally thought I was dealt. Maybe I’m looking at the dealer right now and have no clue of it, but understand enough to know that no matter what card is drawn now, I have a stronger hand regardless contained right within my fingertips. *Knock knock knock* “Busy?” the voice beyond the doorway asks, breaking Josh from his drawn out gaze at the wall ahead. “I was wondering if I could run something by you?” The voice asks, returning Josh to a standard posture. “Sure, E. Go ahead.” Walking into the room and shutting the door behind her, Eliza takes a seat in front of Josh, carrying with her a manila envelope she unlatches from a metal clip before sliding it across the desk and over to Josh. “Take a look.” Reaching for the envelope, Josh holds it in his hands for a moment, just staring at it before finally retrieving the contents from within it. Spread across the table, a text-by-text conversation between Eric Devine and Alec Cerine setting up plans for a meeting later tonight. “It’s right outside of La Mirage, four benches over, fifteen minutes past midnight. I don’t know what they’re meeting for yet, but it’s more suspicious than anything I found on Warren.” Eliza says, keeping her eyes locked onto Josh’s in hopes of easily gaging a response. “Well, anything?” Eliza asks, noticing Josh’s not-so-subtle lack of words. Lightly placing the glossy images back to the surface of his desk, Josh shakes his head trying to find an adequate response. “What do you want me to say?” “That it looks weird and something is wrong with it… That would be a good place to start.” Eliza responds, placing her arm on the desk before leaning in. “Only a few days after Warren gets cut to pieces and now they’re rushing to sit down and have a chit chat? Only after another few days since Devine literally walked into VeroSoft and jumped straight into a surprise close-door meeting with one of the most powerful men in the state?” Looking around the room, gazing from wall to wall in surprise before falling back into her chair. “I think they had something to do with it.” “E, I know it sounds crazy to say after literally everything we’ve had to do to get down to brass tax, but what can we do? I mean… If there’s some kiddy porn ring going on in the city’s underground… And for whatever reason, two VeroSoft executives and one of the most powerful NYPD figures are joining forces with the mob to keep it going, what exactly can we do about it?” Biting her lip and keeping her arms crossed, “Josh, I know what we’re getting ourselves into. But as long as no one finds out what we know… All we have to do is get the information out anonymously and the city has less to be afraid of than it ever imagined!” Eliza has a point. Devine may be onto me, but I don’t know anyone else that could be as of right now. So unless Devine has managed to get a secretive manhunt out on me, he’s missing something strong enough to book me for Warren’s death or anything else for that matter. Maybe Eliza is right. Maybe staying hidden in the shadows is a safe enough cover to keep things going. Maybe that’s how I figure out what the hand I’m holding is. Putting his elbow to the surface of the desk and raising his hand to support his head, “So where do we go from here?” Smiling out of the corner of her mouth, Eliza can practically feel Josh tugging at the line as he speaks, knowing that all she’d need would be one final pull to reel him in. “We hideout and wait for them to meet up. We’ll film everything and keep it as evidence for when we do get that golden ticket we’re looking for. We don’t need to get our hands dirty, we just need to get enough down to go to the cops and gets these fuckers grounded.” If we’re talking about letting the justice system give these guys a piece of their own medicine, then I’ve already gotten my hands dirty. But who knows? Maybe there’ll be something that goes down that does me more good in having than not. Fine, if it does what I need it to do, then fine. I’ll go along with it, E. “I guess I’ll see you tonight.” Smiling, Eliza stands from her chair and makes for the door, looking back before walking out. “Pick me up at 10?” Nodding as he holds his head down, hiding a smile to the best of his abilities, Josh waits for his door to close before lifting his head back and falling back into his chair, holding his arms in his lap before taking a breath, and closing his eyes. | “Hello?” *knock knock knock* Opening the door, Jenn peers out through the opening before smiling and unlocked the deadbolt. “Josh!” Standing in the middle of the hallway with his hands tucked into his pockets, Josh smiles before greeting the woman. “Care to come in?” Jenn asks, with Josh nodding and stepping forward. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Looking around the room, Josh sees the white walls, void of any decorations or the sorts. “Just came over to ask about Alec. Is everything alright with him?” Giggling under her breath, Jenn nods her head before reaching for a glass of wine laid on the glass tabletop. “Yes. yes, he’s perfectly fine. Wh- why do you ask?” Squinting his eyes whilst keeping the smile on his face, using it to hide the combination of confusion and concern, Josh points to the half-empty bottle of wine beneath the table before looking towards Jenn. “Been drinking tonight, Jenn?” Still sporting the smile, adjusting his voice to be more humor-filled. Josh awaits the response. “What are you, Devine? Oh, of course officer! Only a little, though. Don’t wanna go too overboard, right?” Smile now starting to fade into a grimace, Josh keeps his finger pointed at the bottle before squinting his eyes further, “Devine?” Lowering his finger to the ground before looking on with thinly-vailed concern, “You know Devine?” Still giggling through sips, Jenn nods. “He’s here all the time! Pretty much family now!” Now puzzled, Josh starts walking slowly towards Jenn, “Does he stay here?” Nodding, “Yeah. I mean, like, he doesn’t live here. But he stays over sometimes. He’s always talking about business and financials and exchanging. Sometimes I think they’re on Wall Street and I just don’t know it yet.” Now reaching his hands out, Josh takes a hold on jenn in his arms. “Let’s get you to bed, Jenny. We don’t want you tumbling around the room all night long, do we?” “No. No we don’t” Jenn responds, leading Josh to the room she shares with Alec before climbing into bed, letting Josh take the glass from her hand before tucking her in. “You’re a good man, Joshua. Eliza’s lucky to have a such a good man. You’re a good man.” Laughing under his breath, Josh smiles before patting Jenn on the shoulder and wishing her a good night. Walking out the door, Josh quietly shuts it behind him before noticing another off to the side. Walking up to it, Josh notices the handle being different from that of the rest, with an industrial-like lock on the door knob. Reaching his hand out for it, Josh tries shaking the handle to no use, as it doesn’t as much as budge an inch out of place, proving it to be well-secured. I would understand keeping valuables in a room you never use and wanting a lock for it that the condo doesn’t come with, but for it to be THIS secure is more than a little unnerving. If Devine is here often, this could be the perfect place for him to hide something he doesn’t want found anywhere near him. Not to mention, if everything goes south, it’s a perfect way to frame someone else for your crimes. It’s perfect for every use. All I need is a key. Looking around the place, Josh scours the area before noticing a singular key hanging from a hook off to the side of one of the closets. Retrieving it, he marches for the locked door like a bat out of hell, placing it in and turning it to the right, feeling every clasp coming loose vibrating up his arm before finally freeing the final mechanism. Reaching for the door knob, a buzzing goes off in his pocket, forcing his hand from the knob and to his phone. 1 NEW MESSAGE. Eliza: You coming? Responding, “Yeah, just in traffic. I’ll be there in 10. Letting out a sigh, Josh looks around the room for a brief moment before locking the door once more and placing the key in his jacket pocket. Heading for the front door, Josh takes another glance into the living room before noticing the ice white carpet being scuffed in the corner of the room. Slowly walking towards it, Josh looks at the edge, torn up from the rest of the hardwood flooring beneath, yet still pressed on as if it never stood out. Reaching towards it, Josh peels up the soft, warm, fur-like carpet to reveal a door, cold and jet-black painted with one red light at the edge. “What the hell?” Stepping away, Josh tosses the rug back to its original place before slowly retreating to the front door, only for, at the last moment, a key to start maneuvering its way into the front door’s lock. “Shit!” Josh whispers to himself, hurrying over to and hiding inside of another coat closet directly at the head of the living room. Peering through the slots, Josh watches Devine walk into the room before immediately marching towards the coat closet beside the mystery room. Shuffling through clothing, Devine notices something missing before looking around for another brief moment until slamming his hand against the wall beside it. Storming over to the edge of the room, Devine notices the ruffled carpet before beginning to laugh angrily. Pulling out his phone, Devine starts dialing a number before placing it up to his ear. Eric Devine, you devilish son of a bitch. You’re onto something evil, I’m sure of it. All I’ve got to do now is figure it out. “Yeah, Ford? It’s Devine” the Lieutenant says, looking around the room, fuming whilst trying to keep from waking Jenn. “The bitch is asleep. Cerine’s got the keys and the papers. He’s making a break for it. You know what to do.” Suddenly and without warning, Devine hangs up before making a break for the door, slamming it shut on his way out and allowing for Josh to exit the entrapment of the not-so-quaint confinement. What the hell does ‘you know what to do’ mean? I don’t think I should want to ask, but you know what they say. Curiosity kills the cat. Retrieving his phone, Josh pulls up his messages and begins typing. “Eliza, make it 20.” | “You’re a intriguing individual to try and figure out, Mr. Lane” Smiling, Josh lightly taps on his steering wheel before turning to the woman on his right. “And what secrets do you hide, Miss Bradburry?” Placing her foot to the dashboard in front of her, Eliza sinks into her seat, gliding her finger across the smooth surface of the seat belt strapping her to the chair. “I’m not gay.” Raising an eyebrow and jokingly turning to her, Josh nods silently before shaking his head and lifting his shoulders. “What?” Eliza asks, only for Josh to reply, “Talk about a shocker!” “What? You weren’t convinced, were you?” Returning to face the cafe, Josh explains. “I did at first, I won’t lie about that. After some further consideration, I realized it didn’t add up.” Slouching further into her seat, “I figured.” Turning back to her, “Why’d you lie?” Not mad or annoyed, Josh just sits there curiously whilst he watches Eliza turn red. “It’s nice to not be known.” Climbing her way back into proper posture, Eliza keeps her foot stationed on the dashboard. “I expose all of the bad because it helps me feel better about myself. I never put a name or a face to what I know and what I share unless it’s around people that I trust. Since I’m used to doing work anonymously, it’s only that much more comfortable living my life that way too.” Pausing for a moment, Eliza lets out a sigh of relief. “There’s no skeletons in my closet because it’s always moving too fast to carry any. No one asks questions, and no one gets answers.” “I’m just a normal girl in a noisy world.” Turning to Josh, Eliza tilts her head as she rests it against the soft, cushiony headrest. “It’s kinda poetic, huh?” Smiling from ear to ear, Josh places his lips together before nodding subtly. “You trust me?” Smiling herself, Eliza begins nodding. “Yeah. I do.” Locking eyes, Eliza and Josh both lean towards each other, keeping their eyes locked until the sound of a car door from across the street slams shut. Out from it is Alec, buttoning up the blazer he wears before marching across the street to LaMirage. Slowing down, Alec notices a man sitting at the bench he agreed to meet Devine at stand from his chair and begin walking in his direction. Extending his arms outwards, as if to ask the man who he is, Alec comes face to face with the guy before finding himself impaled by the blade of a knife. In the car, Eliza and Josh gasp and cover their mouths to avoid being drawing attention, watching as the man begins dropping Cerine to the ground in the middle of the street, as passers-by scream in horror as they too watch the events unfold. One by one, the blade imbeds itself into Cerine over and over until the blood pooling around the powerful young executive outweighs the blood still in his body. Finally, the man rips the knife from Alec’s sternum before placing it into his pocket and climbing into a large black car having driven up once the deed was done. Off into the night, the car drives away as civilians begin calling for the police and trying to revive the man. Placing his arms around Eliza, Josh holds her in his arms and shields her eyes from having to look through the windshield any further. They knew what to do. I guess I do too now. Series Premiere [ . ]
I am a very successfully unhappy person. I feel emotion, don’t get me wrong. I feel a great sadness when innocent people are unfairly treated to an early exit from this world. Though, let’s face it. None of us are truly innocent of everything. Regardless, no one should be sent out of this existence for a crime far less worthy of such punishment than something else, and that makes me sad. But when confronted with this somehow common occurrence, I find myself also feeling a pit of anger boiling up knowing that someone has managed to evade the justice they so deserve for an action far more deserving of it than others. Those scum of society deserve the punishment they actively laugh at not having to serve, even if someone has to work around the law in order to pick up what the courts managed to drop. Unsurprisingly, that manages to bring on a flood of disappointment and shame, knowing that there are people in the world far less funded by the American government, thus the American people, that can and have to do what the law lacks the guts to. Everything needs to be proper, and everything needs to be clean. Everything needs to be dressed up from head to toe and look spick and span, and yet those clean-shaven faces of what’s wrong with society often dress to such a lavish degree because they hide a grimey truth far greater than those they look down upon. People that have done far worse than what others have been sent to the electric chair for, and yet convince themselves to believe that they can justify their actions are the people that need to be taken care of in order to allow change to begin taking its course. I take great pleasure in knowing that there will be a day in which those people are taken care of by whomever it may be sporting the courage to do something about this injustice. And at this rate, it’s probably the only hope I have at finding true, unbridled happiness. [ . ] “He is truly a revolutionary individual, capable and able to do literally anything he needs to do in order to make things right, and see things return to order.” Ass kissing at its upmost finest. “Who would’ve known a man half my age would be running the show above me, huh?” If the platinum gray hair wasn’t enough to get the point across, the subtle hostility and vigor of not being able to follow in his father’s footsteps due to my unforseen rise to the top sure helped move the needle along. Following, or trying to follow in the footsteps of the late Jeremiah Duane was the end goal the now not-so-young Warren never realized was unable to be achieved purely by telling people what they wanted to hear. When confronted with executives sold on the idea of removing VeroSoft Industries from public trading, Little Warren simply nodded his head and hoped for the best, only to find his reluctance to use the word “no” sending the company into ten years of crippling, near-insurmountable debt. “When you can bring a company back from the grave of financial ruin before some people your age can figure out how how a 401k works, you tend to find yourself in high favor.” There’s something you’re spot on about, Warren. When Good Ole’ Papa Duane looks down on you to such a degree that you’re not even redeemable enough to have dinner with the rest of the family, you know damn well there’s no chance you come anywhere near being the kind of man your father was. You’ll never find his success, regardless of your last name. And you’ll never share his same level of accomplishments… “I’d now like to welcome him to share the stage with me.” … But you do share his love for making and distributing child pornography… And THAT, Warren… Is quite the example of grimey truth. “Allow me to present, the Youngest CEO in VeroSoft Industries history, Mr. Joshua Lane!” I hate bright lights, and I hate banquet halls. Yet here I am, in a banquet hall with a bold, ridiculously oversized spotlight aimed directly at my face. Standing from my seat, the applause is more annoying than anything. All he said was my name and one characteristic about me, a characteristic that, may I remind you, isn’t even the most interesting characteristic to me, and the crowd erupted like the end of a good movie, attempting to shower the cast and crew with appreciation for the masterpiece they had a hand in crafting. I’m far from a masterpiece, and this movie is nowhere near being over, despite how much I would like for it to be. But if doing this helps me accomplish what I desire to do, I’m willing to go with it and put on a smile I have too little experience to make look genuine. “Thank you. It’s only fitting that the man who put us in the hole introduces us to the man that took us out of it!” Crowd laughs, it’s the easiest bait. Like a worm in a pond over-populated with fish, you know everyone will bite if they can. Again, I’m willing to go with it. Especially if it helps me refund the unsubtle pedophile zinger from earlier. Anger-infused smile plastered across his face like wallpaper, we all know he’s got a fire burning in the pit of his soul right now just as he knows he can’t piss off the man that signs his checks. “In all seriousness. This company is more than I can give it credit for, and this year has proven more so than any before that we’re still capable of so much more.” If I have to be forced to put on a suit and act proper, I’ll be honest… VeroSoft isn’t a bad place to be stuck in. I’ll give credit where credit is due to be given, five central-locations in five major American markets isn’t exactly the worst case scenario. Don’t even get me started on the salaries… Those numbers… They take care of a lot of unneeded stress. I know it sounds like I’m in love with this place, but I’m not. Truly, I’m not. There is a ton wrong with society, and a good portion of that ton hides behind our walls. But with every place in the world I could land in consideration… This wasn’t the roughest landing I could have crashed into. “The market for technological advancements has never been more open than it is now, and the perception of it has never been stronger. The world we have chosen to set our feet into has unlimited room to grow going forward, and so does VeroSoft.” “The only way to go from here is forward, and going forward… We’ll only get better.” A round of applause… Not as meaningful when the mention of someone’s name sets it off, but still holds weight regardless. At least I know I didn’t alienate anyone, so there’s a plus. It’s always nice to be able to easily gauge the impact you’re leaving. | “Well, look at you!” I never expect to turn around and like what I end up seeing, but… I almost never expect to turn around to you… “Quite the raving speech you gave up there Mr. Short and Sweet. What was your inspiration?” Ah, yes… Miss Eliza Bradburry, the only person I have failed to find out enough about to understand whether or not they are the good or the bad that society offers… And I don’t think I mind… At least, not just yet. “Making sure the stupid fucking spotlight shined on my back instead of in my eyes was a good starting point.” I don’t usually like cursing… It doesn’t scream professionalism. But with you, I feel comfortable not knowing what purpose you offer the world. It’s nothing bordering on attraction, don’t be mistaken… But just as there’s a beauty in disappearing into the middle of everything, there’s equal beauty in finding stability in beds with the sharpest of nails. “You’re quite the looker without hunks of plastic covering your eyes, so I’m in the camp of guessing that’s a fair inspiration to have. If only I could’ve found you sooner.” Is that… Flirtation? I mean, I know I have more money than I care to admit, but were the past nine months that you’ve been here just been the initial steps in getting yourself closer to it? Is that the kind of person you are, Eliza? Have I figured you out? Have I unintentionally cracked the code to the way you live your- “Too bad I don’t like dick” Nevermind. “Do you need a ride, Eliza?” Joking around with you is fun. I’ll be the first to admit, I don’t have many people I can feel some sort of free around, so you’re refreshing. The more time I spend with you, however, has just made me think about what your secrets are more and more. It makes me think about myself and what I am. Why do I claim to be fine with not knowing who you are, only to try harder to figure it out than I have with anyone else? I mean, Warren brings folders of young kids set up in precarious positions into work every day on a flash drive. All it takes is one little glance to know what kind of sick bastard you’re dealing with when around him. But you’re a different story, Eliza. You’re gorgeous. You’re successful. You’re alluring to the point where you can entrap anyone into a conversation for hours and they wouldn’t once mind. You’ve declined dates from men all around the office, and the same applies to the women. No one has seen your home, no one knows your family, and I’m sure there are people that don’t even think your name is Eliza. Why am I so fascinated, yet so complacent around you, E? “I’m alright, but I appreciate the offer. I’ll see you on Monday, though?” Of course you’d decline, I wouldn’t expect anything less. To offer, though… It’s at least courteous. “Definitely” Maybe. I might be a little busy to say the least. “Great, talk to you soon.” Watching you walk away is like heaven. Legs of a goddess and yet arms waving at your sides exuding confidence in every stride. You’re a combination of ferocity in charismatic bliss and the human form of lust. It drives me crazy that I can’t figure out who you are, and yet it’s easier for me to sit back and accept it than to dig for the truth. Maybe not knowing everything about you gives me the ability to be free so much so to the point that losing that ability would strip myself of one of the only outlets I have to vent… Or even truly exist for that matter. | “Josh!” That voice makes my skin crawl, but knowing that yours sags like watery paint slowly gliding down drywall makes it a little more bearable. “Way to upstage me, earlier… It was quite the crowd pleaser!” Warren, if I needed someone to tell me the crowd was receptive to the repetitive sludge I was spewing like a sewer grate, I surely wouldn’t trust someone of your intellect. I’m sure you wouldn’t be able to find a way to get a crowd to laugh even if it hit you over the head. “Yeah, wonderful speech up there! Really sent the investors home happy!” And I see you brought Sir Fuckwad along with you! Not many people can be caught committing tax fraud multiple times and still find a way to be promoted to President of VeroSoft Industries, but you Mr. Alec Cerine are the exception to that formerly crucial rule. Well done you vindictive bastard, well fucking done. “I’m appreciative, Alec” I’m not. “You have no clue how happy that makes me” It doesn’t. “Thank you” Fuck you. “Happy enough to grab a drink out a LeMirage?” Never in my life have I wanted to punch someone in the face and run in the opposite direction than I do now. Drinking with an elderly pedophile and a near-middle aged misogynist at near one o’clock in the morning is just about at the bottom of my bucket list. “I would, but we’ve all been drinking all night. It’s only a matter of a drink or two before the night becomes a blur” And by that, I mean take the hint and save yourself the trouble. “I have no problem with that” Of course you don’t, Warren. Of course you don’t. “If it keeps me from being yelled at by the wife, then neither do I!” Which one, Alec? The fifth or sixth one? Or maybe you went back to the third again, I’ve simply lost track. If you can’t take the hint, I’ll hand it to you outright. I don’t want to go anywhere near you unless work forces me to. “I’d love to” God fucking damnit, wrong fucking words, Josh… Wrong fucking words. | The smell of privilege coats the walls of this upper class establishment like a damp rag. I’m starting to understand why this place is called ‘LaMirage’... Everyone sitting here hides a dark underbelly with a wealthy front. They wear masks to hide the fact that they’re irredeemable, but only they are too oblivious, or perhaps too stubborn to accept the fact that no matter the lies they tell themselves, they’ll never amount to anything good, let alone what they desire to become. “So you find yourself at a crossroads having to choose between doing what’s good or doing what’s less than favorable. If the good action damages all you’ve come to love, and the unfavorable action only serves as the sacrifice you have to make to ensure everything works in the way it was planned to, why sacrifice all you’ve worked for just to spare your morale a kick below the belt?” How fitting of you, Alec. A man that’s been married more times than the moon has been explored, and has sacrificed more livelihoods than reality television has ruined for the smallest of rewards is giving me a lecture of the importance, or lack thereof, of the human morale. How weak. “Strong words, Alec.” He’s been looking at me all night long, staring daggers into my soul knowing that I notice. All night long, he’s known and he doesn’t care. He’s trying to tell me that he’s either figured me out, or he’s close to doing so. The problem is, there’s nothing to figure out about me. I’m an open book, I just keep the pages contained within my mind. I don’t like sharing them. It’s too much for the world to deal with. “What do you do outside of work, Josh?” What makes your so interested, Warren? Why do you care what my out-of-suit activities are? You sit there, smugly sipping away at aged bourbon younger than yourself acting like you are. No one believes that you do, but I’m sold on the idea that you’re somehow too self-centered to be self-aware enough to notice it. Let’s see if it’s possible to get through to you.” “I’m sure we can all agree that’s nothing you care to hear about, Warren.” “Pretty much” he says, hysterically laughing through sips as Alec and Josh join in, though less emphatically. Swing and a miss. “How about you and Eliza, Josh?” Well that’s a foul ball to the face I never saw coming. “I’m sorry?” He’s brandishing this sadistic smile, almost like he could get off of this if he were alone. “You and Eliza. You’re always hanging around each other… And it’s not so secretive that neither of you have a significant other to, let’s just say, maneuver around.” I’d rather not use that terminology, keep it to yourself. “We’re acquaintances. Nothing emotional. Nothing physical. Nothing more than conversational.” Bullshit. “Bullshit.” Hmph, maybe Warren and I can get on the same page every now and then after all. “No one sneaks around to have a conversation the way you guys do.” “Warren’s right, everyone knows how many eyes are on that chick. You’re residing in a special place for her. She’s dropping everything just to talk to you.” Okay, fine. I’ll admit that there is a chemistry that I have with Eliza that I don’t share with anyone else. I appreciate that chemistry, and I’m better for it. There’s nothing off limits besides the things that most acquaintances, dare I say friends, consider off limits. It’s a mutual respect for one another than any normal person has. Why should I be any different? “There’s nothing going on between the two of us. I can guarantee you that.” Warren’s nodding only further implies he doesn’t believe a lick of what I am saying, and Alec’s refusal to acknowledge my response by going back to sipping on his drink implies the same. I’m not getting anywhere in this conversation. I think it’s time to cut my losses and figure out a way to the front door and onwards. “Well I think I’m about ready to call it a night and head out. Thanks for the drinks. I’ll see you in the office on Mo-” “Wait!” Goddamnit, why can’t Warren stop trying to impede my progress to where I need to go? “Where do you need to be so hurriedly at two in the morning? You’ve got no wife, no kids, and you’re always claiming to never sleep. What’ve you got to lose in having one more shot with us?” Perhaps my consciousness, Warren? I know I’m not exactly your selected demographic, but I do know when I’m being bated in. Even if I have to be blunt and, quite honestly, a little suspicious… I know how to get myself out of a corner. “It’s two in the morning, man. I’ve got things to do. And I would be remise if I said I didn’t like losing my Saturday’s over sleeping in.” He’s not going to let me go that easily. “What things to do? Fishing with the high school buddies?” End the night on a laugh and duck and cover the questions. “Yeah, it’s the perfect excuse to dump a few bodies beyond retrieval. Can’t lose that!” Everyone’s laughing. Good. They’ll let me head home now. “You have a good evening, gentlemen. I’ll see you bright and early next week!” “Alright, Josh. Take care, drive safe.” Bingo. I’ve swiped my card and opened the door to escape. Catch you on the other side, assholes. | *alarm ringing* Ugh, god. I forget what it was that made me decide a 5:30am start to my day, even on weekends, was a good idea, but I hate it for dooming me to a life of exhaustion and I hate myself even more for still going with it for all these years. At least it makes sure my days aren’t wasted. And boy, oh boy… 1 NEW MESSAGE: Eliza: Coffee, early bird? Does it sure have its benefits… As rare as they may be. Josh: See you in 20. | My apartment isn’t exactly the kind of place you’d expect me to find joy in returning to. Overpriced and right off a busy street, it’s New York’s perfect architectural stereotype. Surrounded by the lost souls tucked away behind bland and palateless ties, it’s just about the last place you’d expect to find me staying. That’s both a very bad thing, and a very good thing. It lets me walk a few paces around the street, and disappear into the middle of activity’s hub. It also lets me round the corner into a small, almost completely out of the way coffee shop where I typically find you waiting for me each Saturday morning. “Hey you” Eliza and I, we don’t exactly have a professional or emotional relationship. There’s never been anything further than the occasional friendly flirt every now and then, but that doesn’t mean we’re the usual definition of friends. That word is a fairly strong one for me, but considering ‘acquaintance’ is pretty much the first step down in my eyes, I find comfort in calling you such. “Hello, there.” She was the first person I ever found an interest in talking to. You remember those suits I’ve talked so much about hating? Wishing they’d fall into a giant blender and take those filthy actions to the grave with them? “Coffee, black. No cream, no sugar. You sure you don’t want to put on a tie and join your other money-hungry besties out there?” It’s safe to assume she feels the same way about them… “I hear you went out drinking with the companies top gropers last night” she says, sipping from her drink before raising an eyebrow. “Care to explain?” I take a sip of my coffee, matching her pose and lifting an eyebrow in her direction, flipping the tables like a backwards magician. “What explanation do you care for?” There are a few things Ms. Eliza typically asks about… “Any info on Jenn?” Jennifer is one of them. A high school drop out turned stripper that Alec just happened to “stumble” upon one day and offer an internship to. After a few years of unpaid overtime, and by that I mean bruised knees and red elbows, she found herself informed enough to land a job as his secretary, and then the office’s secretary. “Not as far as I’m aware. No mention of her at all last night.” She slouches back into her seat, visibly upset at the lack of new information, only to return to leaning up against the table and taking another swig of her coffee. “What about Warren?” Letting out a sigh of frustration, I nod slowly. “What about him?” “New revelations?” I worried she would ask that. It’s not that I have any preference towards hiding the truth away from her, I just have no clue what she’d do if she were to find out what I know about Warren. I never like talking about anything new regarding him because I worry that I’ll say something hinting to what I already know, and that… That would work against me. “Nothing you could sell” I respond. She doesn’t like that. “Not sell…” She says. “Tip off.” What I didn’t mention about Eliza is that she covets a different belief in how justice should work than mine. She believes that every soul stranded in the bodies of an evil person should be embarrassed to the highest degree, and forced to watch themselves lose everything they had slithered their ways into. The best way of accomplishing that? Anonymously tip off the press for a price and let society, relentless and cold, do the rest. She uses me for her own gain, and I’m fine with that. I do the same. “Do you know where he’ll be tonight?” Crossing her leg, one over the other, she retrieves a piece of paper from her purse, sliding it over to my side of the table. “Fourth street. Right off Review. Right after 12.” Plastered on the paper are text bubbles between Warren and a woman named Georgia. They’ve been trading messages for weeks now, trying to pinpoint a time to no avail. This is their first attempt to meet in person. That information… That information helps. “And the girl?” I ask, making sure to note the fact that I’m down a question. Sliding another envelope, Eliza watches me open it and shuffle through a few sheets of paper, all directly correlating to Georgia in one way or another. “She’s looking for a pool, twelve-by-nine in dimension. Seems like a small pool, but to those their own.” Eliza was smart and good, but she wasn’t thorough enough to know that a “pool” was code for library of pictures, and “twelve-by-nine” was code for nine through twelve year olds. In case you’re wondering, I know this because Warren doesn’t typically spend too much time trying to figure out a difficult way to code “selling child pornography.” All you have to do is look between the lines and figure out what he’s trying to say. One day Eliza will start to piece the puzzle together. I’m just glad I get to use her brain to figure out my own shit now whilst I still can. “Keep digging. You didn’t get me as much as I got you today, and you better believe I’ll remember that.” I can’t help but smile. “I know you will.” She grabs her coat and makes towards the door. “See you Friday, Josh.” Okay, so if you haven’t figured it out already… “See you Monday” means “I’ll see you tomorrow” as we only say it on Friday. “See you Friday” means “See you at work.” Friday is Monday because the office is like the weekend, we have so many people doing our work for us that it’s really just a long off week every week. Monday is Saturday because that’s when the work truly begins. That’s when we take initiative for whatever reason we have in doing so. I can never help but watch as she walks away. I’m a single man, what can I say? No restraints being used to tie me to one person, I’m more receptive when I see a nice pair of legs. Am I supposed to be ashamed? Well, maybe… But I’m not. I know everything there is to not know about Eliza other than her filthy secrets. The darkest depths one’s soul takes to indulge their diluted pleasures. I used to be okay with it, but I’m wondering if that’s bound to change the further involved I get with her, professionally or unprofessionally. I want to be sure that I’m still okay with that. But I’m just not sure anymore, regardless of how often I tell myself that I am. | *HONK!* New York is a disgusting mess of busy bodies just aiming to do anything BUT work. The daylight shines a brighter light on just how sinister supposedly “normal people” are. But the nighttime? That’s an entirely untameable beast that truly brings out the vivid colors those nine-to-five try so desperately to fight from escaping. Thank you and to hell with you at the same, miserable time, New York. Finally, after what feels like an eon of internal dialogue reprimanding myself for choosing the life that I did, I see you strut across the street heading straight for the St. Luciano’s Grill and Tavern. Sultry red dress and silver, almost pristine high heels only lessened in value by the amount of hatred you have for wearing them that, by the way, is completely noticeable. That disgust you have looks good on you, Georgia. Does your excuses have that affect too? “Hey! Watch it!” And there you are, Warren. Thanks for joining the party. You’re surprisingly on time for a man who looks like he’s had a few to drink. I guess you take it seriously when duty calls. So do I. | This bar is loud and obnoxious, and this jean jacket I’m using in hopes of blending in is doing nothing for the circulation of blood in my arms. But if this is my existence for the next hour or so, it’s worth it just to further understand what it is that needs to be done to make sure you earn the justice you so actively deserve. “Water on the rocks” I say confidently to the bartender, who looks out of place behind the bar. He knows how to do his job, but he’s not in uniform like the rest. To make matters stranger, he’s almost unable to detach his eyes from the same target I’m unable to detach ears from. Is he? Almost certainly… There’s our first true piece of intel about Georgia… Smart enough to bring back up. Assure herself she’s not walking into a trap without a key. Smart woman. Any smarter than myself? “It’s all here. Every model of every request. Slim, blonde, symmetrical and unsearchable. All here.” There’s another piece of vital information. It seems that Warren has found his victims of the “Missing Persons” variety. Much easier to keep tabs on him, at least. “I want section I, N, Y, O, R. How long?” How long? “Pick up, $250. Transport, $1.5” Pick up? Transport? Shit, those numbers aren’t below six digits. This isn’t a child pornography ring at all. “Transport. Six days.” This… This is a human trafficking ring! “When and where?” Retrieving a cloth and wiping the ends of the folder she just held in her hand, the woman replies, “Long Island dock. Gate 14. Just after midnight.” Shaking hands, the woman heads off with the bartender having just served me taking off out the back door of the establishment. After a few minutes, Warren stands from his seat and begins towards the exit of the building. This… This is far more dangerous than I had ever expected to get involved with. But it’s not like I’m a stranger to the idea of getting in over my head. | Oh, Warren. How many times have you done this? How many times have you gotten away with things like this? How many people have you sent to a life of hell, or, dare I assume, their graves? You… You must be stopped. Thankfully, you prefer alleyways as your method of being unseen. You think hiding behind the darkest shadows of New York’s streets is beneficial towards disappearing into your true passion. It’s the same as when I actively pursue someone finding the justice they deserve to suffer at the hands of in hopes of it finding me true happiness. Well, Warren… if alleyways help you disappear as much as bringing people to justice helps me become happy… I’ve got some news for you… It never helps. *crunch* The gravel beneath your feet is like dropping a bowling ball on glass in an echo chamber, alerting everything that you’re stepping on sensitive material. *buzz* 1 NEW MESSAGE: Eliza: Any luck? You’re anxious. Every sound heard for miles brings you closer to paranoia… And it should. It’s a good thing there’s a dumpster for me to hide behind the second you turn around in a burst like you just did. *crunch* Another step beneath your feet has you on the edge. Your worried expression brings me great satisfaction. However, it’s not enough. *crunch* Your frustration with every pebble beneath your feet sounding louder than the last brings me great pleasure. However, it’s not enough. *crunch* Your disappointment that each pebble crunching beneath your weight makes your brilliant plan to escape into silence crumble with it brings me great humor. However, it’s not enough.... But… “Warren!” Your deathly, thousand-yard stare when you know you’re not alone… “Wha-!?” *plunge* Your white eyes as you feel everything including your tortured soul breaking it’s shackles... *plunge* Your gasps for air as you try to imagine whether what’s happening is real or just another figment of your paranoia… *plunge* Your hands shaking with uncontrollable adrenaline as your legs give way beneath you… *plunge* Your body crashing against the ground as the cold asphalt beneath you begins being covered in warm, thick liquid... *plunge* Your desperate pleas to speak as your breath becomes too minimal to resemble words… *plunge* The blood leaving your body and the punctures of the blade in my hands imbedding itself within your chest, forcing you to brath your final breaths, and move your final movements… That is as close to enough as I can get. And there you are. Laid out on the ground in the middle of a New York alleyway you would never find yourself near under any other circumstances. Bloodied and dead at the hands of… At the hands of me. An evil, disgusting villain. Vindictive to the end and a failure hidden behind the silk-like sheets of a family name is finally rid of in the most appropriate way. And now, you know… Now you know why it’s never enough. Because no one, regardless of who is telling the story, is spared from hiding a dark secret. No one is safe from having to understand what it’s like in the real world behind the mirage. Behind the upper-class equivalent of a mask. I, am Joshua Lane. And… That… Is my… Grimey truth. |