Something From Below

News Story

1964

"You're such an asshole"

"Yeah, well you're a bitch."

"See this is exactly what I'm talking about, asshole" She said before slamming the door.

Staring at the door in disbelief, Marty Derringer decided that he didn't need her anymore. He didn't really need anyone for that matter, who was she really, some dolled up skank from down the road, she was nobody. He was somebody, at least he thought so, and he had decided long ago to not spend time with just anybody. They'd have to be interesting, worth talking to, have something about them, you know. A quality or another thing like that.

However Marty did need to get moving. He worked soon, and today was a rather big day. Staring at a Mark Rothko reproduction for another moment, loss in a bliss of colour, Marty was slow to get moving. The fight was still on his mind, and it was distracting him from something even more important: a shot at the front page. But he'd have to find something worth listening to, worth reading, no small feat. Would he be able to find that story? Marty had no idea.

But neither did his editor. Not yet anyway. Still staring at the painting, Marty looked for a moment longer before glancing at the clock.

"Shit" He said

He rushed around the room collecting his things for the day before heading towards the door. The door slammed shut as he left.

---

Rushing through the downtown streets, Marty was uncertain. He hadn't the slightest clue of how to approach today, his usual powers escaping him under the stress. How would he tackle this assignment, what he was going to do, what angles he'd photograph, all the details swirled in his mind. He hadn't much time, a few hours maybe, but that was enough. He was determined to find a story worth telling.

Standing at the street corner, waiting for a light, Marty saw a man running down the street. He was being chased by police. Pulling out his Canonet Junior, he quickly took a few photographs of the scene, trying to get some cinematic angles. Then he took out a notepad, looked at his watch and began scribbling down a few details. Feeling satisfied, he started to think of his fight earlier with Samantha. Maybe she was right... he shook his head. No. she had no idea what she was talking about, off in one of her spells where she gets all angsty and bitchy. That was it.

Strolling down the road, he continued to look around for something, anything interesting, on his way to the office. There wasn't much going on in the quiet metropolitan city, beyond the usual hustle and bustle of daily living. The steady flow of commuters and traffic between and from all manner of places, everyone hoping to be on time but with only so much space on the roads. Marty kept thinking. Maybe he could do an opinion piece on the clutter of the streets, how there isn't much public transport available and how what is available is cluttered. That'd be pretty interesting, he thought to himself.

But Marty couldn't settle with this idea. He needed something grand, something that would be truly newsworthy. A murder, or robbery or some other sensational tale. Something of grand and epic proportion.

He needed his own Lawrence of Arabia. Hell he needed his own Arabia.

Marty was soon in distance of the offices for the Riverview Gazette. He strode down the side walk, and was soon walking through the building door way. He still hadn't a story but he needed to check in with his editor to run a few ideas past him. He walked past the front desk secretary, Dolores, and continued on his way to the editors desk. Richard would be waiting. He stopped and looked at the editor title painted on the glass, before knocking.

Knock Knock Knock

"Hello?" a voice said

"It's Marty" I replied