Simon sat in Barren's Cafe sipping his $8 latte. Four morning newspapers were sitting at the table with him and he had his tablet opened up as well. He kept his eye on the ticker scrolling past. BEXT had taken a serious hit; he was glad that he had gotten out of that one.
RDAQ 85.6^.... 1.78% | LING 123.8^.....6.32%| BEXT 44.6_ .....44%| EAV...
He checked in on some of the other stocks prior to getting in the office before the bell rung. He liked doing research in a place like this; he was a hunter by trade, and a very damn good one at that. He scanned through the news articles as well, stories about businesses, corporations, wars and natural disasters, to see what he should do with the billions of dollars that his clients and corporation had entrusted him with.
"Morning, Mr. Light," a woman said as she approached him.
"Ah," he replied, recognizing one of his clients, a strikingly beautiful woman with red hair and dressed to kill in a red jacket and skirt. "Ms. Morningstar, it's good to see you as well," he lied with all the conviction of a shark.
"Fancy meeting you here in a place like this," she said coyly.
"I've been coming here for years, before the bell opens," Simon said with a smile. He knew she was up to something; much like a super-hero who had senses tingling when trouble was near, so were his. "It's the first time I've ever seen you in this place."
"Oh, I like to keep an eye on who's doing what with my finances," she replied. She sat in the comfy chair across from him.
"No need to worry," he assured her. "I know what I'm doing."
His phone alarm chimed, the old 80's song 'Eye of The Tiger' sounded off.
"That's my cue to go, Ms. Morningstar," he said as he turned off his tablet and gathered up the papers. "Let's see how much money we can make you today."
She plopped her feet up on the desk, leaned back and took a puff from the cigarette. She had been trying to quit but like her father always said, "Only Quitter's Lose". She didn't mind the chaos about her, as officers walked back and forth, the phones constantly chiming in, and the clacking of an old typewriter in the corner.
That was George typing up a report. He was old school. She was going to ask him why he preferred that antique over the laptops but she guessed he was one of those 'can't teach an old dog new tricks' kind of guy.
"Yo, Riveta," said Lugerelli, "Put that shit out now."
"Make me," Riveta replied.
She hated that creep with a passion; she didn't know what it was about him but she hadn't liked him from day one. He had that look about him that made her want to bash in that face of his.
"You're given me second hand smoke," he scolded. "And besides, it's office policy not to smoke inside."
"You gonna arrest me?" she asked him.
"Christ, Riveta," Monnette said as he walked past her desk. "You know that's a $200 fine if the shop steward sees ya."
"I know, I know," Riveta replied to him. She butted it out; all she wanted was a taste. Besides, it helped her relax some.
Lugerelli threw some nico gum on her desk, "Chew on these."
"You wanna chew on my fist for a while?" she asked at him. Lugerelli was about to say something but he saw George in his corner shaking his head at him. Lugerelli then went back to his desk and answered a phone.
"What's your beef with him?" Monnette asked her. He plopped his rear on the corner of her desk.
"I don't know," Riveta confessed. "It's just that whenever I see him I have this urge to spit."
Monnette chuckled at that.
"You should ask him out," Mayganne said.
Aqua stood there looking at her and contemplated the statement. Mayganne could see the little wheels turning behind those eyes of hers and thought the hamster was working overtime. Then she let out a chuckle with that image in her head.
"What's so funny?" Aqua asked her.
"Oh nothing," Mayganne replied.
"You don't think I will do it, do you?" Aqua said. "You don't think I could ask him out to see Veronica Mars."
"Oh, it wasn't that..." Mayganne started but couldn't finish when Aqua stomped off.
For some reason the staff room at the Hubert H. Humphrey Secondary School was quiet. Mayganne knew she shouldn't have laughed but the imagery of an animated hamster moving around in Aqua's head made her chuckle. Somehow that seemed fitting.
A student was approaching Aqua as she stormed down the corridor; he thought better of asking her a question, seeing that Ms. Marine seemed to be troubled by something, and steered clear.
Aqua went into the staff washroom and slammed her fist into the wall, then she gathered her composure and walked to the sink.
She cooled her jets in the staff washroom, splashing water on her face and taking deep breaths. Aqua didn't really know why she had become a substitute teacher in the first place, when she was dealing with anger issues. She thought that she had it under control but every now and then a word or something said would get to her.
She felt much calmer and cooler with the sound of running water from the tap.
"I got this," she said.
The winds were terrible this time of the year. Howling outside and blowing snow like a banshee. It was winter in the city and everyone around him was complaining about a little snow and a little wind.
What soft, weak people these tomorrow people have become.
He had experienced worse having survived several years in the bitter north, walking the landscape, a ronin alone in the world, looking for a place to call home. He had heard tales of strange events happening across the country but he wasn't sure if he should look into them, since none of it was his concern to begin with.
After all, he had stumbled upon this strange world by accident and it had taken a long while to get accustomed to it. The wonders he had seen, the technology as well, were enough to stagger even the mind of the shaman and the witch back in his home land, his own time.
There was an evil in this world, a manifestation that was so brutal and vile, and it showed in the people's faces, though he didn't know how to go about fighting it. The people in this time seemed accustomed to it and resigned to their fate, accepting it.
He was a stranger in a strange land, resigned to an unknown fate.
"Another one, big fellow?" the petite girl asked him.
He nodded.
The bartender placed another beer in front of him.
"Order up," Susanna said as she approached the counter and slapped the bell.
Callan looked up from the grill and flashed her a smile. "Comin' up."
It was busy at the diner; it was always busy around lunch time. When the suits from the corporate offices would pop in for their $86 hamburger and fries.
But, I guess with pricing like that it kept the riff raff out.
Callan flipped the burgers on the grill and checked the fries to see if the spices where needed. He worked his magic with it, and he was glad that he didn't have any help in the kitchen as he often used tricks and spells to conjure up these tasteful dishes.
He was what they called in the culinary world a Grand Master Chef. Callan had been noticed when he was working at a Chinese restaurant and then featured on the reality show "A Chef's Chef". He had found his calling, cooking up dishes with such skill and ease it seemed like magic, and basically that was what it was. He had tapped into the world where such chef's were sorcerers of the trade, making beautiful meals out of liver, onions and vegetables into edible heavens on earth.
He put two dishes up on the counter. "Ready!"
Susanna shot him a smile and gave him a wink; she really didn't know how he did it but she wasn't going to complain since the tips she was getting were paying the bills and her paycheck was just an added bonus.
"You've got to tell me how you do it," she said as she picked up the delicious entrees.
Callan leaned to the counter, glanced around to make sure no one was listening, and said with whisper and a smile, "'Ancient Chinese secret'."
Wraith was lying on the ground looking up at the sky; she could hear the sounds of the city about her but she focused on the clear blue sky above. A shadow fell over her body and she still kept her eyes focused on the sky.
"Wraith?"
No answer.
"Wraith?"
Still no answer.
"Are you ever going to answer?"
She remained silent, looking up at the sky.
"Are you planning on doing something about it?"
She didn't bother to answer.
"Fine," the other said. "Be that way. I'll be back on Thursday to see if it's done."
There was the slamming of a door.
She sat up on the blanket and glanced around; she had been sunning herself on a beach towel. She reached for some more sun tan lotion to add another layer to her skin. She adjusted the Foster Grants and prepared to lay back down on the towel.
Damn, she thought.
She really didn't feel like talking to anyone at the moment, she thought she'd figure it out with a good ol' suntanning session. Her cellphone rang and she didn't answer it.
She wasn't in the mood to say anything for fear that if she did she'd go off like a depth charge, all out and ready to sink anyone in her path.
She knew she had anger issues and was trying to deal with it in her own way.
She walked into the kitchen and grabbed a soda from the fridge. She pulled the tab and guzzled about 1/4 of the beverage before putting it down. She walked over to the laptop and punched her password into it and plopped down in front of it.
"Wraith's Wrath"
by Wednesday Wraith
....
Was what it showed.
Her editor was hounding her for the next instalment of the Diner of Hope series but she was having no such luck with formulating a story. She let out a huge sigh...
It seemed so cliche, like right out of the freakin' movies.
Dexter was hunkered down by his car, his service revolver in his hands as he waited for the hail of bullets to stop chewing up the car. Little shards of glass fell down upon him like rain on a summer's day as the window gave way.
"This freakin' sucks," he muttered. "Frakkin' pussbucket."
"You don't have to tell me," his partner Stone said. "You think you would know better than to hit the streets after even hinting about taking a retirement. That's just tempting fate."
Dexter brushed broken shards off his shoulder. For a moment there he felt alive knowing that death was just around the corner. It made him think of a situation he was in 15 years ago; he cracked a bittersweet smile upon remembrance.
"Glad to see that you're having some fun," Stone cracked at him. He had noticed Dex's expression; it was the first time in a long time that he had seen a genuine smile on that mug of his.
"Actually," Dexter replied, reloading bullets into his gun, "just realized that my old partner had said something similar many moons ago."
Stone was a good man; he had trained him well over the years. Dex had taken him on as a partner when his original one, Ness, was shot during a botched robbery 15 years ago. Dexter was meeting up with him at this shitty chinese diner that Ness liked to eat at. He didn't care about the food but the place made him feel good, is what Ness always said. And Dexter thought it was kind of weird since he always felt good eating there too.
It seemed that some thugs where shaking down the neighbourhood for protection money and decided to visit on the day that Dexter and Ness were taking a break. Dexter had been waiting for Ness to show up when the thugs came in and started threatening the little owner of the establishment. Dexter flashed his badge and the next thing he knew was that bullets were in the freakin' forecast of the day. Ness showed up a few minutes later and caught one.
In the end the street gang was taken down, but not before they had popped a young kid as well. Some poor homeless kid with a skateboard had taken two shots to the chest. If only Dexter reacted sooner maybe this kid would still be alive.
Remembering that poor street kid now melted away that bittersweet smile.
The week after the restaurant shooting Dexter had transferred out of homicide, after witnessing so much death on that day, and into the Missing Persons Unit. There he was partnered with rookie cop, Stone. They had been working cases over the years and just this morning he had been joking about maybe taking an "early retirement". Then a tip came in on a young lady that had disappeared over a decade ago; she had been spotted at a shelter downtown.
They went down to have a look-see, passing around her picture when someone told them that they had seen her enter an abandoned brownstone just two blocks away. They were making a routine check when bullets began to rain down upon them, making them scamper back to the safety of their car...
He felt like it was a dismal hangover, his eyes fighting to stay closed from the light for fear of it burning out the pupils.
"Yo, buddy," a voice said. "You still alive?"
"I think so," Goner replied. He sat up and felt a wave of dizziness hit him again. "I don't know for how long, though."
"You look like shit, dude," the voice stated.
"Tell me something I don't know," Goner replied. The world around him was a bright white blur, as if the sun went supernova and rays were bleaching everything in sight. It also reminded him of a comic book maxi-series that DC comics put out in the 1980's. Crisis on Infinite Earths.
He was in a field, his bike lying about 33 feet away from him.
"Man, that was some crazy ass jump," the voice said. Goner located where the voice originated from to see a young kid on a bike beside him. The name dawned on him: it was Stevie.
"Ya, think?" Goner said. He finally got his bearings and realized that he was getting to old for this kind of stuff. He checked to see if anything was broken or any bones were sticking out of the skin and he was glad that everything seemed to be in check.
He went over to the bike, saw that it was sort of scuffed up but okay, and picked it up again. He had to take it to the shop for another tune-up, but realized the shop was a few miles away. It was going to be a long walk home.
"That was a crazy ass jump," Stevie said again. He approached Goner with his right hand in the air to summon a high five.
"Yeah," Goner said. "It was."
"... and that's it for the day," the photographer said as he handed the camera to his assistant. His assistant automatically snapped the lens cap onto it like an obedient soldier.
Angst sat up on the bearskin rug as a woman approached her with a robe; she slipped into it like a second skin. She was used to the men hanging around the studio and ogling her. After all, this was her fourth and probably final shoot for the magazine. She was to the age now where she wasn't deemed youthful enough.
"Another great shoot, Angst," the photographer said. He stepped around the set and gave her a hug. "Love working with you."
She smiled a fake smile and kissed him on the cheek. "The pleasure is all mine," she told him. "You make me look good."
Angst and the woman left the stage, heading to a dressing room where she could slip into some yoga pants and a crop top. She really didn't like doing this stuff but it paid big time. Her mother and father didn't approve of what she was doing, nor did they complain since they had a new home and a car and a 60" plasma tv set in their living room.
Like she said, it paid the bills.
Her cellphone chimed in, 'Madonna's Express Yourself' was the tone. It meant her agent was on the other line.
"Angsty, baby," he said. "I've got a deal for you, they want you back for Shark Vs Werewolf II! Swing by the office and will chat more."
She wasn't even the star of the b-flick, it was Tiger Manson, who was once a big time television star, on a four-time emmy winning series and now delegated to doing b-movies. Angst realized it was her path as well, but she was never as big as Tiger and she wondered if she had missed a chance at something big in her life.
Shark vs Werewolf was her third major flick; her first flick, over a decade ago, was a bit part in the Oscar nominated The Legacy Effect starring Brad Pitt, Matt Damon, Helen Mirren and Donald Sutherland. She had played Donald Sutherland's youngest granddaughter. Overall, her screen time was 13 minutes and 43 seconds.
There had been a casting call in town where the movie was being shot and she had won the role because the part was for a cheerleader; after all it was her specialty. She had competed with 2000 others. It had gotten her noticed and from there she had played frienemy "Betsy Carter" on Disney's Dragons Are People Too for four years.
She did her first Playboy photo shoot right after Dragons Are People Too ended; her agent at the time told her it was a good move and would get her more exposure in Hollywood. Though the offers from the major studios never came. There were tons of scripts for b-movies and tv movies-of-the-week but they were just t&a appearances and nothing meaty.
Angst walked across the lot to her car; she signed heavily. She wondered if maybe she should have married the quarterback and settled down to have some kids...
Frank stepped out of the cab, paid the driver, and then walked towards the main door. He made a slight detour as he saw the coffee wagon open for business. He could use a drink; he wasn't normally a coffee consumer, he preferred the tingling sensation that tea offered. But today, for some strange reason, he craved coffee.
He ordered a coffee with a cream and one sugar and paid the buck fifty. He glanced at his watch and noticed he was still 15 minutes ahead of schedule and he grabbed the morning paper as well. He had a little time to kill. He walked into the lobby of the building, passed the security desk, flashing his ID badge at the two guards on duty.
Grady and Bill-Lee. He chuckled each time he saw Bill-Lee's name tag. He figured his folks must have been rednecks to give him such a stupid name to begin with. He pressed the up key at the elevators and waited for the doors to eventually open.
"Hey Frank," Scorpio said as he rushed to the elevator. "Today is the big day, eh?"
"Yes," Frank simply stated.
"Anything big going on then?" Scorpio inquired. "After all, it's you last day here."
"Nothing really," Frank yawned. "Just want to put in my time for the day like usual."
The elevator ride up to the floor was awkwardly silent since Scorpio didn't have anything else to say. To Frank the music that filtered through the elevator sounded like a New Order song done to muzak. He was trying to figure out which song it was.
It seemed like forever and a day when they arrived at their floor. The doors opened to a group of people yelling "SURPRISE!" The gang at the office had thrown together a little celebration to mark his last day at the office.
Frank had grown bored after data-crunching; he had thought that life would be a little more exciting than sitting at a computer terminal for 25+ years. It paid well, but it offered nothing stimulating...
She always felt at home on a subway train for some odd reason. It was a feeling of comfort, of knowing she was safe, even though she was surrounded by complete strangers. She was playing with the folds of her summer dress, not paying attention to her surroundings.
She was on her way to her daughter's school, The Holy Cross Elementary School, where Principal Donnelly had called her in about Hira, who had been acting out in the school yard. Apparently she had broken a boy's nose and this meant serious business. Probably a suspension and a fine to pay.
The subway car was slowing down as it approached her stop, so she got up and made her way through the throng of people to the door. She stepped on the platform and made her way to the exit. She stopped at a vending machine and decided to get a drink. She figured she needed something to quench her thirst and maybe calm her nerves down some.
She didn't like speaking with Donnelly since he reminded her of the principal she had when she was her daughter's age many, many moons ago. She grabbed a diet cola and made her way up the steps to face the music. Apparently, her daughter didn't fall too far from the tree.
And that made her smile.
Alice adjusted the name tag on her server's uniform. She was
excited to start her new job – waiting tables between auditions
wasn't a burden to her, it was part of the fun, part of the life she
had chosen, the dream she was trying to make real.
“And here's where we sign the task list at the end of each
shift,” Miranda said. “That's the last box to check for today's
training. Now... I suppose you want to hear about the good stuff.”
It was quiet out front, the lull between lunch and dinner. Marko
was prepping for the evening meal in the kitchen. Alice looked
confused.
“All the rumour's about this place?” Miranda continued. “You
mean you haven't heard the stories about Kelly's Diner?”
“Didn't it used to be a Chinese restaurant once?” Alice asked.
“They say it was a hot-spot for Tong violence. The place was
shot up seventeen times. They say.”
Alice shrugged. She didn't like to make assumptions based on
hearsay.
“But that's not the weirdest part,” Miranda said. “A lot of
people in the neighbourhood say that this place is haunted... And
that's why it attracts so much violence.”
Alice looked skeptical. Miranda had been super-nice so far, but
maybe this was part of some lame initiation for new staff...
“And, get this, no one knows exactly when it switched from the
restaurant to the diner, or what happened to the original owners...
But it's been burnt down and rebuilt at least three times since
then.” Miranda could see that Alice wasn't overly impressed with
the history lesson. “I'm not trying to scare you. I'm not even
saying I buy any of this stuff, either. It's actually refreshing to
meet someone who isn't all wide-eyed and gullible.”
“I guess urban legends are kind of interesting,” Alice said.
She had a strange, fleeting sensation, like a dream barely
remembered.
“The only thing that makes me wonder...” Miranda said, “is
the Irregulars. A lot of the rumours involve this group of... I don't
know what, exactly. But they, apparently, help protect the place. Or
try to, I guess.”
Alice was starting to get intrigued. “And who are they?”
“Some people say they're cops, some say they're vigilantes. I've
heard that they're members of a local martial arts club. Or that they belong to some support group. A mental health
thing.”
Alice had been in therapy when she was younger, because of her
dreams. She got nervous when people started talking about mental
health, was worried they would judge.
“There's Dexter, he always carries a baseball bat, a tough guy
but sweet. Callan, who's quiet but has a temper – I've heard he's
some kind of magician. Wraith, very classy, bit cold. Apparently she
travels a lot, so business maybe? Spy maybe? Darius, who's the
youngest, with a skateboard in one hand and a bible in the other. And
then Max... Lots of stories about Max. Schizophrenic, alien,
android.” She smirked. “He's nice, though.”
“You talk about them as if-”
“Well that's just it, Alice. I've met them. I've served them
coffee. Only a few times over the years - 'the Irregulars', right? -
but they're real.”
Alice was listening intently now. “Have they ever...? What do
they talk about? Do you think what people say about them is true?”
Miranda looked thoughtful. “They are always polite, they always
tip well. They usually look pretty tired. I try not to bother them,
even though I'm curious. I figure that whatever they get up to,
whatever keeps them busy out there, when they're here they need to
relax. To be somewhere comfortable, familiar. To be looked after for
a little while. Is that corny?”
Alice smiled. “Not at all.” And felt, in that moment, that if
she never got cast, never even got called for another audition, that
she would be happy working here for the rest of her days.
The door chimed. Marko called form the kitchen, “Customers!”
Max closed the seventh laptop.
The quiet in the motel room sounded strange. After so many voices, so much music.
Then he thought that he heard the sound of a helicopter approaching.
The phone on the pillow buzzed again. He crawled over to it. There were bright lights outside, shining through the curtains.
Max picked up the phone. Tires squealing, shouting.
The text said: KEEP GOING
Gunfire.
