Prompts

Taxi

*TW: Mentions death/suicide*

"There's an urban legend that's been circulating for years about a taxi cab that doesn't take you where you want to go, but where you need to go. One night, you get into this cab."

It's late. The city is barely bustling anymore as the hour approaches midnight on a Wednesday. Another long day spent mulling over the countless paperwork that needed to filled out or filed. It seemed endless. One case completed and set aside just for another to fall open, needing your attention. When you agreed to the detective role, you hadn't realized it would require so much work spent sitting at your desk.

The whole point was to be out solving crimes. Be in the mix of the citizens who know nothing about the darker corners of the city and those who live in the shadows. To find the ones who cross between both seemingly unrelated worlds, leaving nothing but pain and misery in their wake.

None of which, you'd seen in months.

It causes a sigh to leave your lips as you wrap your coat tightly against your chest in the hopes it would cull the sharpness of the evening breeze. Thankfully the taxi's didn't seem to take a night off either, considering you can easily flag one down. The stark yellow stands out brightly against the backdrop of darker colors. Almost as if, it was the only one you were meant to see this evening.

The driver is quiet. Simply asks for the destination and clicks on the mileage counter. It's a welcomed silence. With how loud and boisterous the precinct can be at any given time, a little quiet went a long way. It leaves you time to ponder the many cases that cross your desk throughout the day.

Many require simple follow ups. Minor check ins that can be done with a phone call from your desk. Others revolve around witnesses coming in for a meeting and maybe the occasional trip to the court room to testify. Besides that, new cases just weren't popping up.

Which, should be viewed as a good thing, right? Fewer new cases indicates a decrease in crime and thus a safer city. If anything, it shows how well your department is able to protect its people from harm. Praises should be hung up on billboards, awards handed out to those working so tirelessly to maintain this new status quo. And yet, it feels off. Fabricated, almost. As if, an agreement was made to keep things quiet.

The shadows still looked the same. Could still be spotted amongst a crowd of light, so things couldn't be too different than before.

It was baffling. The only thing that made sense was your routine. A cab ride home, a warm bath, and a real meal. Such small necessities that create the most relaxing environment after a day filled with tension.

Only this time, the road doesn't look familiar. After living in the city for over 10 years, you know the streets near your home. Know all the shortcuts and back ways to avoid traffic or to simply take a different route home. But this, these glaring neon lights, all pointed towards the opposite side of town. A place where even the brightest of lights cannot illuminate the depths of the darkness.

"Excuse me sir, but you've gone the wrong way." You try to explain.

"It's not me on the wrong path, it's you."

Before you can protest, the car stops; your door swings open and the cab driver seems to fade the longer you look at him. Your instincts tell you to leave. Something was off about the driver and you sure as hell were not in the mood to find out why. The routine you so looked forward to had been forcibly pushed back, causing quite the unrest to build in your chest.

Almost immediately when you step onto the curb does the taxi cab disappear down the long street. It's much, much darker here. The neon lights that were distracting moments ago now seem to just flicker, as if bulbs had long forgotten to be replaced. The street lamps look neglected; paint peeling, rust building, some tilted to the side in defeat. Even the sidewalk left something to be desired. Rubble was scattered and cracks lazily attempted to be filled littered the pathway.