Post by Darkender on Nov 19, 2014 22:42:37 GMT
Identity Crisis
There was something about dockside after midnight that made you overlook the putrid smell of fishy decay. Perhaps it was the rhythmic crashing of the black waves against the scorched earth that dulled your sensibilities. It could have well been the pale and calm moonlight that threw dark yet welcoming shadows against the cold bricked ground. Whatever is was there was something, something almost tangible that allowed a certain at-home comfort to the complete stranger.
"I hate dockside detail." Michael puffed and a cloud of smoked followed his words. His messy ginger red hair was covered by a black beanie, but a few thick strands fell down covering his pale face. It was cold that night so he had brought gloves, but they cut off about mid finger and they weren't much help against the oceans breeze. The cigarette shivered subtly as he returned it to his lips and dragged once more.
Will was walking beside him and heard him, but everybody hated dockside detail. Nobody volunteered for it. They just pulled the shortest straws. Then there was another stinging wind so he bit his tongue, his hands deep in his pockets, he was focusing on keeping warm.
Michael allowed a few moments to pass.
"So did you hear about what happened to Tommy?"
"Tommy? 'Tommy, Tommy?'"
"Yeah, 'Tommy, Tommy'. He went missing a couple weeks about."
"Well, shit, he's probably cooped up somewhere avoiding the old lady. God knows I'd like a vacation from mine. He's probably high as a kite, loungin’ uptown with one of those sophisticated night walkers." He laughed, and his shadow laughed along hysterically.
Michael smirked, and took another drag of the cigarette. "They found his body this morning."
Will stopped laughing, "Jesus Christ. What happened?"
"I don't know, they didn't tell me much, but Jared is mad as hell about it. That's the fourth guy in two weeks. They go missing for a while and then they just show up dead, man. The sick part is when they show up their eyes are missing, carved out. Face was beat to shit, we could barely recognize him."
"Was it the hounds? I thought Jared cut up the district with them."
"No, couldn’t be the hounds. It isn't how they operate. This is way too demented for them."
Just then there was a popping sound. Similar to what you'd hear in your inner ear while driving uphill, but it was noticeably louder. They stopped walking and peered down the brick path. Will pulled his weapon and scanned the dock, but there was nothing in the still dark. Michael took a final puff. Then the hot end of the cigarette went aflame and shot up the rest of the stick until he held a small flame between his fingertips.
"Who's there?" Will shouted.
Dockside stood silent for a moment. There was traffic far off in the distance, maybe some sirens. And then the pop again, followed by a swift crack and a body hitting the floor. Flames spewed from Michael’s fingertips in the general direction, but when the flames dispersed there was only Will’s body on the floor.
Before he could make another move a gloved hand covered his mouth and another held his neck tightly.
"Flame up and I'll snap your neck... Now, listen closely, I have a very important message for Jared? Are you listening?"
~~~~
Club Gomorra
The purple lights streamed and pulsed through the club fog as the beat thumped loudly, muting most conversations. But people didn't come here to chat anyway. Michael was arguing with the bouncer for at least ten minutes before someone vouched for him, letting him in.
His hair was disheveled and he had lost his hat, but he hadn't noticed. He pushed by the bouncer once the gate was lifted. The crowd was tight and people stared, their tight clothes sticking to their skin and light sweat glistening on their faces. Someone grabbed his ass too, but he pushed on anyway to the VIP section.
There was another bouncer in front of the velvet rope that led to VIP. But Michael could already see Jared, his face locked with another, much more boyish, face. He sorta stuck out like a sore thumb in the club scene, with his gallon hat and cowboy boots.
"I need to talk to Jared." He yelled over the music.
The bouncer picked up a walkie that was clipped onto his chest and spoke silently into it. Michael watched as another man then walked up to Jared and whispered into his ear. He then whispered back and waved towards the bouncer.
"Well, look who the cat dragged in. If you’re here, who’s watching the Docks, Mike? And what the hell happened to your face, son?" Jared said in his southern twang before pushing the young man off of him as he straightened his suit.
"Will's dead. We were ambushed." He spat out.
"Ambushed?" He waved the young man away, "How many were there? Were they Hounds?"
"No... It was just one. He had a message for you."
~~~~
The music was much fainter now. The office room was rustic, sophisticated with wood finish and serene decor. It didn't quite fit the club dance floor either. Jared had a strong drink in his hand and was leaning against his mahogany desk. Four other guys were at the coffee table playing cards and listening, while Michael sat in the chair before the desk.
"...Then he grabbed me and gave me this." He handed over a crumbled piece of paper, "When I turned around he was gone."
The crumbled piece of paper’s message was written in thick black sharpie.
"An eye for an eye, a soul for a soul..." Jared read aloud. "...Got to be fucking kidding me. Did you get a look at him? Did you see him, anything?" He started to yell. His demeanor started to dissolve.
"No, Jared, I didn't. I'm sorry. It all happened so fast, man."
"Wassup, boss?" One of the card playing guys asked.
His eyes were still fixed on the paper note, "It's been almost 20 some years."
"Boss?"
Jared’s eye shot back up, “Did he follow you?”
“What?”
He stepped forward, yanking Michael by the shirt, “DID. HE. FOLLOW YOU BOY! Spit it out!”
Michael struggled in the large man’s grip before he was thrown back into the chair.
Jared took off his hat and combed his hair intensely. “Jimmy.” He said pointing to one of the thugs at the table.
“Boss.”
“You take your boys, down to the floor and lock this place down. I don’t want no new faces in the building, you hear?”
“You got it boss.”
Jimmy led the others to the door, but as he reached for the handle the door flew open inward, knocking them back.
Shots were fired into the dark hallway.
A moment passed as they leered into the dark corridor.
“Hey, fellas.”
They turned to see the masked figure in the room, but before they could react he was on them and they were disarmed and on the floor.
Jared was still standing by his desk, his resolve unchanged.
“Conspiracist.”
“Jared ‘The Mason’.”
“I coulda swore I killed you.”
“You should know by now, Mason. You can’t kill what I am.”
~~~~
Jared stared into the clothe mask, and the masked man stared back. Michael was still pressed against the chair, the odd man out in this little dance.
Jared gulped down the remains of his drink and placed the glass down onto the desk ever so gently.
He grimaced from the strength of the liquor, “So, how’s your eye?”
A blade slid into The Conspiracist’s gloved hand, and he pointed it at Jarrod.
“A blade? Oh, come now. That’s not your style. In fact it’s not even fair,” He reached his hand behind the desk and a revolver appeared in his hand, “You bringing a knife to gun fight that is.”
He grinned smugly as he leveled the gun.
The Conspiracist slowly put his hands into the air and then vanished.
“What the-“
He reappeared behind Jared, his blade already sliding up Jared’s neck, nicking him slightly. The blood trickled slowly down his neck.
“Now, that is a new trick for you son.”
“Drop the gun.”
“Alright, alright, now-”
He then pushed back into The Conpsiracist, knocking the blade away as he fell onto him. Jared lunged at him, seizing hold of his throat with both of his hands.
“I killed you once, and I can do it again!” Jared yelled as he snatched off his mask, but to his surprise it was a young, boyish face under the mask. The dark blue eyes stared back at Jared emptily as he struggled in his grasp.
“Hold a got damn minute!”
The sound a tearing flesh was then heard as Jared’s surprised face began to cough up blood. The young man plunged the blade deeper into Jared, as he fell forward onto him.
“Who are you?”
Mumbling at first he said, “I’m the Conspiracist… I am the Conspiract. I am the Conspiracist.” With each time he said it, he sounded a little less sure, “I am the Conspiracist.” Then he vanished from the room.
