16. Youth: part two

I woke up in that eerie place again. That place of eternal winter where the wind is the only thing you can hear. The House stood there, brooding, lonely. Although it appeared to be decaying, it was as sturdy as ever, as if it was frozen in time. I walked over to it and had a seat on the step. I looked up and saw that the sky was a black void, empty had it not been for the millions of snowflakes that filled it. The surrounding trees and bushes stood there swaying in the winds, whispering to each other.

“Nice of you to make it,” said a voice from behind. I turned around and saw Id standing there, leaning against the doorway. “Why did you resist me this morning?” he asked. “I was going to help you. Instead you let that man lay his hands on you and get away with something that didn’t belong to him. That was not the way, Anthony. That was a display of weakness.”

“No, Id,” I protested. “The fact that I resisted you and took care of the situation myself shows my strength.”

“Took care of the situation?” snorted Id. “That man humiliated you and your boss, and you’re saying you took care of it?”

“It could have been worse,” I argued. “You said you would have helped me. How? By beating the crap out of that man? Making them flee without taking the car? You know what that would have done? That would have exposed both of us. And it’s not like mobs don’t retaliate. I would have become a new target for the Estate, and those assholes would come back for me with more muscle.” Id looked at me, seeming to consider what I was saying. “And it would have put John and the rest of them in a worse position.”

“So then what do you want, Anthony?” asked Id.

“I want to understand what’s happening to me,” I replied, “and where exactly you came from. I want to know what all these… abilities are. You told me that there’d be no more secrets between us. So let’s hear it.”

Id just stared at me, then a grin slowly grew on his face that evolved into a laugh.

“What are you laughin’ at?”

“Do you not see?” he asked. “You finally decided to take responsibility in the face of danger. You’ve taken your first steps to conquering your fear. You have certainly come along way from that moment when you saw Elicia in the alley.”

He was right. My eyes opened wide at the revelation. Physically I was changing, and mentally as well. And I suspected that the arrival of Id had something to do with it. “So tell me then,” I pressed. “What exactly are you? What am I?”

“Let’s take a walk, Anthony,” he proposed. I stood up and followed him around the clearing. His movements were gentle with his hands folded neatly behind his back. “Where shall I begin. I guess I could start by telling you where I came from. The answer is quite simple, my friend. I came from you.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I’ve been with you since the beginning.”

“The beginning?”

“Yes, the beginning,” continued Id. “The beginning of your life. Your birth, Anthony, was not an accident nor was it a common process of nature. From the moment the gamete from your father merged with the ovum of your mother, your embryo had been selected. And there I resided within your genetic code and among the dividing cells until you developed a brain and a mind. At that point I took abode within the deepest, darkest recesses of your psyche, and laid dormant there throughout your entire development and maturation. But I would pay you a visit from time to time, but only in your dreams. Just to check up on you. And when we felt that you were ready, we sent you the owl beacon which led you to the House. There, all its secrets were revealed to you when the spirits took possession of you, awaking me in the process.”

“Spirits? Possession?” I asked.

“You remember,” said Id. I was then flashed back to the moment when I was back at the House, about the climb out the window, when I saw the light which knocked me off my feet. I witnessed countless phantoms swirl all around me, diving in and out of me, inflaming my body with a new type of energy. “And that new type of energy released me,” said Id responding to my thoughts. “And it courses through me, through us.”

“What is this energy?” I asked.

“Well, it’s not really an energy,” said Id. “It’s not really anything. It has neither shape nor substance, it is neither hot nor cold.”

“So it’s like a… cold heat?” I keyed.

“Yes,” said Id. “Cold heat.”

“You lost me,” I confessed,

“Cold heat as you put it,” continued Id, “is a form of chi, a spiritual energy produced by the soul. You feel it when you summon your strength. You see it when you’re in aura state. And you use when you transcend to phantom state. These are just some of the abilities that it unlocks when you channel it accordingly.”

“So then what were all those crazy things that were happening to me,” I asked. “Those jolts, the itching, headaches, and all that other stuff?”

“That was your body adapting to its new physiology,” explained Id, “as well it was testing out its new capabilities. Biologically, this was of course taxing, thus your metabolism changed, which is why you developed a rather savage appetite, and you had to conserve, explaining all that sleeping you did. Not to mention your body needed to dispose of all the old matter in it to make way for the new, hence the vomiting and diarrhea. Those jolts as you so put it, was your body learning to harness its potential for electrokinesis. And all that itching was the effect it had on your nervous system.”

“So then technically I’m possessed.”

“By me at least,” said Id. “However, you can call on myriad of spiritual entities whenever you need direction, but this requires much concentration.”

I took a moment to think about what he said. At last I understood. But I still wasn’t quite sure about this cold heat. “Does everyone have this… energy?” I asked. “Can they do the things that I can do?”

“Oh yes,” Id replied. “But it’s deep within them and they are ignorant of it. You on the other hand have been… enlightened. You, along with a few others, have been given the power to tap into it at will. All you have to do is learn how. But until then, you will leave all the work to me.”

“When will I learn?” I asked.

“You will learn. When the time comes you will. But not yet. For now you must get some rest. I have work to do.”

“Work to do? Man, what are you talkin’ about?”

“Your gross behaviour this morning revealed to me several members of the Estate. I will track them down and learn more about these people.”

“I wanna do it,” I announced. “Besides, I feel like putting that Powel guy in his place.”

“Please child, we both well know you’re not ready for that. And as I said before, get some rest, you’ll need it. For there’s something out there far worse than anything you’ve ever faced in your life. You’ve been seeing it in your dreams. And it’s got your name on it.”

Suddenly, he was gone and I was swept up in a blizzard of snow. All the while I couldn’t help but wonder what he could have meant by the last thing he mentioned. Something was out there for me? Or was it someone?

In a few seconds though the blizzard stopped, and I saw myself obscurely, deep in the city. I had begun to dream.

I knew it was real, but it felt like a dream. At least to me it did. And then I saw myself, or Id. He was wearing the Knight Suit; cloaked in that trench coat, its hood drawn over his head, mask covering the face, eyes glowing a terrifying red. A sound of thunder bowled across the night sky as it showered. He was sheltered from the rain in a large windowsill built into the wall of a building. The window had been boarded up years ago. As he perched on the ledge like a gargoyle, he looked down and watched the rain fall down into the dark abyss of the alley below. Was there a ground? Perhaps. He could have been a dozen stories up, but these alleys were like canyons with fathomless bottoms. He wondered what wretched forms of life scratched about down there as he tried to penetrate the thick blackness with his vision. Human life that is.

Putting that thought aside, Id looked up at the dark sky that still seemed brighter than the gloom below, and then looked at the building across from him. Its brick wall seemed slick with dampness, and with some hesitation he braced himself and leaped across the bottomless chasm. As his feet touched the wall, he kicked off of it to propel himself up towards the opposite wall. He then continued this motion, zigzagging his way to the rooftops by kicking off the walls. But right before he reached the top his foot slipped off some wet bricks causing him to miss his kick. “Whoa!” he shouted. Luckily, he caught on to a protruding brick, and there he was supporting all his weight with the tips of his fingers, dangling above the black maw below. With his other hand he grabbed a hold of the same brick and braced his feet to the wall. With a mighty push of his legs he sent himself up to the top ledge of the opposite roof and pulled himself up with ease.

He stood up to see himself on the rooftops of the Lower Canopy. He was surrounded by skyscrapers that still towered over him with contempt. Pigeon droppings covered the ground beneath his feet. Rooftops aren’t nearly as clean as they’re portrayed in the comic books. There was also a thin layer of water on the roof, so Id didn’t want to risk it going on foot. Wouldn’t want to slip again when I’m about to jump across a busy intersection, he thought. He looked back and saw a maglev pulling out of a near by station and began speeding in his direction. Id went over to the edge of the building and awaited his chariot. As it flew by, Id launched himself towards it and violently landed on its roof, almost slipping off the side. Within seconds he corrected himself and kept low to decrease his wind resistance, and he rode that train as his trench coat danced behind him.

The maglev brought him to the Forest Hill area of the city. He jumped off and landed on the roof of a nearby house. He knew what he was looking for, it was simply a matter of retracing my own steps back to the house where I took that Lamborghini. Powel’s house.

Id hopped and skipped across the suburban rooftops, and eventually came to the Powel residence. From the roof he phased down inside to the top floor. The place was warm and had a cozy feeling to it despite its size. He appeared to be in a hallway with about five rooms. All the lights were off; it would have been pitch black had it not been for the open curtains by the window at the end of the hall; and the raindrops were once again making that annoying pitter-patter sound against the glass.

He began to creep across the hall, black and white with shadows. As he passed the first door, he nudged it open and peeked in. It appeared to be the room of a teenage girl, judging by the teen heart throbs on her wall, a cell phone on her dresser along with make up by the mirror, and a condom rapper that was carelessly dropped on the carpet and forgotten. Id moved on to the next room. Carefully he opened the door. Inside a boy laid there silent and fast asleep, content in his own little optimistic world, ignorant to the kind of person his father truly was. I realized that this was horribly akin to Jonathan, and a surge a grief and pity immediately began to rise. Sensing these inconvenient emotions, Id removed himself from the child’s room.

The Ghost glided over to the next room and had a look inside. It too seemed to belong to a girl, but much younger, four perhaps. But all that laid on the bed was the ruffled blanket and the small impression of a body. Id took this as a warning to remain on his guard. Skipping the next room he came to another, and gave the door a nudge. He had discovered the master bedroom, but the master wasn’t home. The bed was empty like in the last room, so the intruder invited himself in. He studied the bed and noticed that only one side of it had been worn down to wrinkles and an impression. However, the other side seemed to be smoother, as if only one person was actually sleeping on this bed, suggesting that the man of the house was hardly ever in his house.

The Ghost eased himself out of the room and continued on his unauthorized tour. He descended the stairs until he came to the ground floor. Around the corner he saw a static blue glow coming from the next room and could hear the sounds of a TV. Now the shadows were dancing in the darkness against the flickering lights. He crept closer to the room, and soon he entered into the large family room. He saw the silhouette of a couch against the iridescent light, and focused his hearing beyond the noises of the idiot box to zero in on the person who was on the couch. Judging by the heart rate and subtle breathing of the person, Id found that she was asleep, and reasoned that it was Powel’s wife. He motioned towards her and saw her lying there alone in front of a rerun episode of Sex and the City, with a box of half melted Häagen-Dazs ice cream on the floor. You deserve better than this, he thought.

Id left the woman alone and floated away. Powel’s not here, he thought. But I know precisely what I’m looking for, and just where it is. He was on his way to the basement, which was through the kitchen. As he approached, he noticed yet another light coming from the kitchen. He peeked around the corner and discovered that it was an open refrigerator, and right in front of it was a little girl. She stood on a step stool by the counter as she was making herself a late night snack. An open jar of mayo sat on the counter with a carton of milk as she spread some cold tuna fish across a whole-wheat slice of bread.

Id saw the basement door on the adjacent wall of the kitchen, and slid over to it in the phantom state so as not to be seen. He phased through the door and descended into the basement. Evan though it was completely dark down there, the vast room seemed bright and crisp in his aura state. He scouted around a bit finding some free weights laid on the floor, along with a workout bench and a punching bag hanging from the ceiling. Parts of the floor weren’t carpeted, exposing the hard concrete foundation. Mounted on a wall by a big screen television set was a mantel, displaying several soccer trophies that were quite impressive. He then came to what appeared to be a vault door. Its bronze finish made it blend in a bit with the wood grained walls. Peace of cake, Id thought to himself. He transcended back into phantom state and tried to dive into the sealed vault. But as he met the metallic surface, his mist like form dispersed along the steal substrate, throwing him back into his physical body. What? I can’t get through? he thought. Up until then there didn’t seem to be any limits to what Id could do. At that moment it became clear that there were. “Okay. I can’t go through metal, at least not this kind,” he said to himself. “What now?” At that moment Id felt something. He spun around to see the little girl from upstairs standing there, watching him. The basement door was open and the light from upstairs was pouring in, blinding to the Ghost but dim to the girl. However, it was enough to allow her to see him. There was a blue glow emanating from her and surrounding her.

“Are you a robber?” she asked in a small voice. She was no more than three feet tall, and she stared at him with a pair of big dark eyes.

“No,” the Ghost answered.

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Don’t be afraid,” Id said, “I won’t hurt you. I’m looking for your dad.”

“Daddy isn’t here,” she said.

“Do you know where he is?” Id asked.

She shook her head.

“Do you know what he keeps behind that door?”

“Daddy says we’re not allowed in there,” she said. “He gets angry when…” she broke herself off.

“Don’t worry, child,” said the Ghost. “I have a feeling that your dad keeps bad things in there.”

“Bad things?” she asked. “Like what?”

“Things that hurt people.”

“Why would Daddy have things like that?”

“I don’t know,” said Id. “That’s why I’m trying to find your dad so I can find out.”

“Who are you?” she asked.

“A ghost.”

“Are you a nice ghost or a bad ghost?” she asked.

“What do you think?” She was silent, as she didn’t know what to say. “Can you help me open that door?”

“But… daddy said we’re not allowed,” she hesitated, her face bowed down.

“Yes,” Id agreed, “but did he say I’m not allowed?” She raised her head as a smile came across her face.

“You’ll need a key,” she said. “I know where it is. I see Daddy put it away all the time in his room. Wait here, I’ll get it.” Like a rabbit, she raced up stairs to her father’s room. Id had already created a mental map of the house in his head, and had noticed that Powel’s room was directly above the basement. In a single leap, he phased right through the floors and ceilings of the house and ascended back into the master bed room, just as the little girl was arriving. In a gasp she halted. “How’d you do that?” she asked.

“I’m everywhere.” Id humoured. Still shocked by this unusual stranger, the child went over to the dresser by the smooth side of the bed. She took out a book from its drawer and held it aloft upside down. From its open pages fell a key card. She picked it up and held it out for the ghost to take. He took it from her hand and examined it. On it was that familiar emblem of Apollo Endeavours. The vault must have been manufactured by that company. “Thanks, kid,” said Id. “Now go to bed. It’s way past your bed time.” The child obeyed and was off to her room. But before she walked out the door, she stopped and turned around.

“Will you hurt my dad?” she asked.

The Ghost took a moment to ponder the question. He walked over to the little girl then got down on one knee to be on a more equal level with the toddler, and asked “Does he hurt you?”

She shook her head.

“Then I promise I won’t hurt him,” Id said.

“You must be a nice ghost,” she said.

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

“Are you here to scare away the bad ones?”


“That’s why.” She then returned to her room.

What if I am one of the bad ones, trying to scare away the competition, he thought to himself.

With the key card he went back down to the vaulted door. On the side of the door was an access panel and he slid the card through it. Instantly, a message popped up on the small monitor asking for an access code. Hate it when this happens, he thought. Yet he was not deterred. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep, not just relaxing his thoughts, but silencing them completely. He then stretched out clairvoyantly, and gradually a myriad of voices became receivable in the ambient air. At first incoherent, they soon focused into one choir of speech, and it said, 8-5-8-5. Coming out of his trance, Id punched in the digits that miraculously appeared in his head, and without any trouble, the door opened with a clanking sound. The Ghost stepped inside and found what he was looking for.

The dream then seemed to fast forward. The Ghost traversed back across the city and I was shown the entertainment district of Lucicrescens, where Powel and his boys were juicing up the night at the hottest strip clubs in town; one in particular was owned by none other than himself. Out front, a line up of people were waiting to get through a pair of juggernauts, while on the building it said Da Pussy Cat in big red neon lights that lit up the Floor. Inside, there was action. Packs of men watched as voluptuous girls, many young enough to be their daughters, danced and flaunted what God, or the surgeon,  gifted them with. The girls received that male attention they lacked from their fatherless homes, some of them teen mothers trying to support their baby with the dollar bills that were thrown at them like scraps of food to a slave child, while others pretended to be interested in the men who’s laps they were dancing on. There was much hollering and hooting to go with the music that seemed to consists of pure bass. And Jeremy Powel looked on, fully confident that his own daughters would never turn out this way. Beside him sat a young man who was with him that morning. He was short, skinny and had a pale bony face. He took a sip from his glass of rum and coke and stood up from his seat. “Eric, where’re you goin’?” asked Powel.

“Goin’ for a smoke,” he replied.

“You can’t smoke in here?” said Powel as he gestured to the surrounding air that was almost opaque with smoke.

“I need some air,” the kid insisted. Powel just shrugged him off and turned back to the spectacle.

The young man stepped out from the back door and into the alley. Pulling out a cigarette, he lit it, and pulled a long drag. He paced back and forth then took a stroll further down the alley. Abruptly, he stopped as he swore he heard something. He immediately looked back. Nothing. He continued on his way heedless to his own intuitions, when suddenly a shadow appeared from behind and grabbed him. Next thing he knew he was six stories above the ground, suspended from what seemed to be a thick pipe connecting the two buildings. Instantly his joints were stiffened with fear. He looked down to see the rain drops plummet to the pools of water below. From one of the puddles he could see his own reflection: a limp body dangling helplessly. However, he could not quite make out what was holding him up. Slowly he turned his head toward his chest to see a pair of onyx black gloves holding a tight grip on his jacket and shirt collar. He was afraid to look up, out of fear of what he might see, but he involuntarily began to do so. And as he looked up his eyes opened wide, wider than one would think his beady eyes could open. And just like the puddles below him, his eyes were reflecting what they saw above: another pair of eyes but much larger and more menacing than his. His pupils even constricted against the bright red light that was burning his retinas. And when his brain finally finished processing this load of information, adrenaline kicked in and reanimated his joints and muscles. Like a fly caught in a web, he struggled and fought to get free, screaming for his life. But no matter how hard he squirmed, the grip around his collars simply got tighter. The gloved hands didn’t even seem to strain against the man’s weight.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said a voice that seemed to come out from a shadowy like figure that immersed the eyes. “It’s a long way down.”

“Jesus Christ!” exclaimed the man.

“What’s your name?” asked the Ghost.

“Who– what are you?” asked the man.

“Let’s get one thing straight. I ask the questions.” The young man didn’t answer, but continued to squirm and cry. “What is your name,” the Ghost pressed as he let go of the kids collar then grabbed his wrists moments before he fell. The man now dangled from his wrist as one gloved hand was holding him up.

“E-Eric,” answered the young man. The Ghost took a closer look at his prey’s pale bony face.

“Hmm…” Id wondered. “I know your face.” And as I looked at the kid’s face from my own dream distorted vision, I recognized him from the night of the state finals, at the convention centre. He bumped into me in the hallway and never said excuse me. Could he have been involved in that raid, I thought to myself.

Id continued his interrogation as he squatted down on that pipe in his gargoyle position, his long trench coat hanging down. “You were there that night when those bandits attacked the convention centre, weren’t you?”

“I–I don’t know what you’re talking about,” answered the man who we now know as Eric.

“Bullshit,” said the Ghost. “I know you were there, I saw you.”

“You… saw me?” said Eric horrified.

“That’s right,” said Id. “And I see every move you make. I saw you running out of that convention centre like a coward before your people arrived to do the dirty work. You set ‘em up, they knock ‘em down, right? I saw you at that repo business when your boss threatened those people as well. I also see what you do in your own spare time. I’ve seen those web sites you visit late at night. And that little… ‘hobby’ you have going on in your basement when mamma isn’t around. You know what I’m talking about. Those little amateur movies you like to make, involving those kids, not to mention your eight-year old sister.”

“H–how could you know this?” whimpered Eric. I wondered the same thing. Apparently Id went on more excursions than I thought.

“I know about the Estate,” said Id. “They were behind the raid, weren’t they?”

The young man was to frightened to speak, so he slowly nodded his head.

“Tell Powel I’m coming for him. He’ll know who you’re talking about. Oh, and another thing…” the Ghost lifted Eric up and leaned in close to his ear, “I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

That mighty gloved hand suddenly released its grip, allowing gravity to do its work. With a yell, the young man dropped from his height. Luckily, he landed on a pile of boxes and garbage bags. He rolled off the heap and on to the hard wet ground. Instantly, he rolled on to his back as he pulled out a gun and aimed it upwards. But all he saw was the night sky above, drops of rain showering down on him, and the lone water pipe.

Back inside the night club, Powel and two of his friends were still enjoying the night. Some of the men were carrying on in drunken excitement, while others grabbed at women’s unmentionables in an attempt to get to know them better. At that moment an agitated Eric came stumbling in, almost tripping over, his face looking even paler. One of his friends saw him and said, “Eric, man. You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“Funny you should say that,” Eric replied as he passed him straight. He scurried over to Powel and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“What the hell is your problem?” asked Powel.

“It’s- it’s coming,” stammered Eric. “It’s here and it’s coming for you!”

“What the hell are you talking about,” questioned Powel.

“I ain’t playin’ with you, man,” warned Eric. Beads of sweat were gathering on his forehead “He- he came out of nowhere. Look, I’m getting out of here, and if you’re smart you’d do the same.” Before Jeremy knew it, the young man was running out the door.

“I told that kid to lay off that white shit,” Powel said to himself. He remained in the club with his last two friends for the next half hour or so before going up to his office to retrieve his car keys. “Okay let’s role,” he instructed. “I gotta wake up at six o’clock tomorrow.”

As the three men walked out into the parking lot, they noticed a crowed of young club goers gathered around one spot. They were talking amongst themselves and snapping pictures of something with their cell phones. As Powel looked on, he could have sworn that was the same spot where he parked his Lamborghini, and on closer inspection, he realized it was. He immediately picked up his pace and pushed himself into the crowed. “Hey, out of the way, you roaches!” he called out. “You like what you see, get your own.” But when he made it to his beloved sports car, he stalled with horror. Lying in front of him was his Lamborghini Gallardo, flipped on its back like a beached whale.

“All right who did this!” he demanded, shooting an accusing eye at everyone around him. “Who did this!” The crowd remained silent as they shook their heads with pity and dispersed.

Turning back to his car, Powel gently ran his hands along the metallic body, still glistening with its polish. The car had been perfectly flipped over with hardly a dent on it. Even the glass windows were still intact. Jeremy ripped out his cell phone to call a tow truck. But before his fingers even touched the dial, two police cruisers pulled into the parking lot, and rolled right into Powel’s predicament. As the officers stepped out of their silver and blue Dodge Chargers, it was obvious that they were just as amazed as the crowd.

“We had a report of a…” said one of the officers as he took notice of the new attraction.

“Great,” said Powel to himself. “Now I have to deal with these pigs.” Another officer stepped up to Powel. “Well what do we have here,” said the cop. “Mr. Powel, we meet again. Still evading us I see. But it looks like your demons have finally caught up with you.”

“Shut up,” spat Jeremy. “Now isn’t the time.”

“Oh, I think it is,” continued the officer. “It’s not everyday I come across something like this, let alone see you in these delicate situations.” The officer hovered around the vehicle, perplexed as he studied it. One officer took Powel aside to ask him a few questions, while another began to examine the automobile. The snooty officer was deep in conversation with his partner. “What could have done something like this,” he wondered.

“I don’t know,” replied the partner. “There’re no dents in it, no scratches, so it couldn’t have been hit by another car, or any other machine for that matter.”

“It had to,” objected the officer. “What else could have done this?”

“Probably a bunch group of people,” offered the partner.

“I’m still not convinced,” said the officer. “This still would have been a nearly impossible task for a bunch of punks if you’re lookin’ at something this spotless. Plus, the alarm didn’t even go off.”

“So then what do you suggest?”

“I have no idea,” replied the officer.

“Then this is truly some messed up shit.”

Suddenly, the cop who was examining the vehicle called out to the officer. “Uh, Sir. You better come look at this.” The two police men immediately rushed over to the scene. As the cop by the car moved out of the way, he revealed a policeman’s dream. Underneath the seats of the car were over a dozen clear bags filled with a white powdery substance. As Powel saw this his jaw dropped with shock.

“Whoa!” cried the officer as he shined a flash light on the stash.

“Also,” continued the cop, “according to this vehicles registry, it hasn’t even been paid for.”

“Well, Mr. Powel,” said the officer. “You got some explaining to do.”

“What the hell is this!” cried Jeremy.

“This would be cocaine,” answered the officer as he tasted the substance from his finger.

“I swear, guy,” pleaded Jeremy. “I’ve never seen that stuff in my life. That was definitely not there this morning,”

“Oh, but it was there before?” retorted the officer.

“No! That’s- that’s not what I meant,” Powel argued. “Look, officer–”

“Please, call me Frank,” patronized the officer.

A sour look came across Powel’s face. “Look, Frank,” continued Powel. “How much would it be: a thousand, two thousand.”

“I’m afraid your money is no good tonight, Powel,” informed the officer. “Your bribes aren’t gonna save your flabby ass this time. If I was in a good mood, maybe. But I haven’t been laid in six friggin months, and I’ve been waiting for this moment ever since you beat that extortion trial. Now forget about this car, cuz I got another one right here waiting for you. Hop on in.”

The policemen read Powel his rights, cuffed him and placed him inside the cruiser, while the two men who were with him were to be brought in for questioning. The officer than instructed his men to obtain a search warrant for Powel’s home, and to begin a thorough inspection of his residence. Powel made the grievous mistake of shitting where he eats, keeping his product in his own home, believing it safe in a secure vault. He sat in the back seat of that cruiser with his head leaning on the glass, his world about to crash around him. And as he shifted his eyes up to look at the night sky that was stained orange with the spilling of morning, he glimpsed a ghost like figure in the nearby alleyway, eyes red like the morning sun. But when he looked again, he saw nothing. “I must be seeing things,” he said to himself.

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