UnDeserted

1) A Single Brush Stroke of Red

Note: I accidentally wrote Frank Chyre in the first chapter, and I'm too lazy to edit 😝. So just know that when I say "Frank Chyre" I mean Joe's partner in pilot who's name is Frederick Chyre, not Frank. Thanks. Enjoy!

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EVER SINCE SHE

can remember, Deserey has been prone to chaos. When she was thirteen, for example, she kicked a pedophilic man in the nads on Halloween after he tried hurting her little sister. Then, a few months later after her fourteenth birthday she jumped into a ring to stop a dog fight. At fifteen she tagged a mob boss' car, because he pissed her off. And at sixteen-

Well. Anyway, the point is that Deserey has seen (and done) some shit. She's used to being in danger. Survival mode is her default setting. Which means, when all of Central City explodes Dez is prepared to spring into action.

So.

It's the same week Dez and her family move from New Jersey to Missouri. First day on the new job. Crime scene investigation, right off the bat.

The morning of, she gets a bit turned around and has to stop to check her map. Only the map must be outdated, because somehow she ends up at this coffee shop in the center of town. She's standing in the parking lot, frowning at microscopic street names when another vehicle, a black SUV, pulls up next to her. A white sedan leaves the second the new vehicle arrives, too.

A young woman gets out of the passenger side and gives the driver a kiss on the cheek before running inside; then the driver is trying to make eye contact with Deserey. He says, "You look lost."

Dez's head snaps up from her map. "What?"

"You need directions?"

She stares back at him. Truth be told, she has never been asked that question before in her life. It throws her for a loop, okay? She's not being rude. She's not. It's just- da fuck is that question?

The man looks harmless enough; at least, she doesn't immediately think he gives off serial killer vibes. Like, she knows looks can be deceiving. Believe her. She knows. And it is a little unnerving that some older guy she doesn't really know just starts...talking to her? Just out of the blue? And, like, he's smiling at her, which is also off putting.

But, also. Dez is aware that smiling isn't something normal people find creepy. It isn't meant to be a creepy gesture, Dez just thinks it is because she's met some messed up people. She doesn't think this guy is trying to be a creep. He's trying to be friendly and helpful, because that's what normal people do when they see someone who looks lost.

Dez is just fucked up, to tell the truth. She ain't used to friendly and helpful people. That's why it takes her a minute to trust this random older man, with a goatee and a beret, that just pulled up next to her in the parking lot asking if she needs help.

Besides, she recalls meeting this man briefly the night before. He seemed alright, then. Her kids seemed to like him, anyway. He lives in the house next to theirs, the blue one to their right. He brought over pasta and welcomed the Dunet family into the neighborhood. Dez thinks this is weird, too, honestly. Back in Jersey, in the city she's from, her neighbors would never.

It's fine. She thinks. She's just being weird about it. Probably. She don't know.

Dez blinks and stumbles for a response. Anything to avoid sounding like a paranoid bitch, really. "Guuh, y-yeah. Yeah, sure. Directions. Please."