Uproarium's Brightest

Chapter One: Angel Mallory

It's as if the universe has always conspired against me, orchestrating a symphony of misfortune.

The rain soaked my coat and seeped through my very bones. Each step was a battle against the slippery streets.

My shoes squelched with every step, as I put all my might into sprinting, in hopes of being on time for the job interview.

My breath was cold in my throat and I panted, as I could feel the pulse on my neck throb, matching the rhythm of my heartbeat. The cold, March air pierced my skin, making me shudder slightly. I swiftly straightened my worn-out coat, looking at where the address had lead me.

In front if me stood an unassuming, old, concrete building of three stories, one I deducted to be an office and hopefully- my new workplace. My heart raced as I went inside, raindrops clinging on my glasses.

"Angel Mallory?". The receptionist's voice cut through the tension, sharp and disinterested. She sat behind her desk, snapping gum between her teeth and stared at me with wide eyes.

My name is Angel Mallory. Nice to meet you, whoever cares to listen. You might've heard of me. I helped arrest that one guy, that one time. I caught countless of others on the act too. Journalists made a fuss about me. 'Uproarium's brightest', they'd call me. Ha.

I guess my reputation proceeds me. Well, nobody remembers me anymore- here at least. My career is ruined; I'm not planning to return anyways.

Where is here? Uproarium of course. The loudest government there is. As far as we know- as far as they let us know. Hang around.

"You're late. No one's expecting you anymore" said the receptionist dismissively, going back to clicking away on her laptop.

The world crumbled around me. 'What is one more time?' Unemployed once again, I quietly avoided making a scene as I walked outside, a downpour of rain making me shiver. I let out a yell of disappointment, showing emotion for the first time in a while. But, no matter how frustrated I was, I would not be bowed. I would remain focused and keep to my goal of making a future for myself. A future without the Council in it. I'd take it down myself if I had to. No matter what it took.

Two years had slipped away since I abandoned the world of investigating. It was a decisive choice, fueled by memories that clung onto my consciousness.

I was not going back. Not after what had happened. Frustration swelled up in my veins at the mere reminder. I refused to be a loyal dog, returning to its masters.

Yet, nostalgia would always creep in as an unwelcome visitor. And then I would look back on those times of thrill and bringing justice. Those are just old memories now, haunting me. It sucks, really.

I found solace on a soaked bench, the wood yielding beneath my weight. My suit clung to my skin and I observed the world, the passing people, the secret conversations in alleys, the old buildings and mothers running after their misbehaved children. The hidden dramas and secrets.

It was an old habit of mine, an escapism, if I may. It soon proved to be valuable. The way I knew about things made me useful. And people feared what they couldn't control, and that transformed me into a dangerous asset.

So here I was. A seemingly retired detective; Uproarium's brightest, locked away in the darkest of suburbs. But that's what the Council wanted you to believe. That's what it wanted everyone to think about me.

I would soon wish I hadn't returned. But sometimes

It's too late to go back.

*****

I knocked on the apartment door, my fist making a thumping sound. Jonathan Hawks greeted me, rubbing his eyes. His fingers fiddled with his hastily put on tie , trying to straighten it so as to match his white business shirt, as he liked to call it. Filled with wrinkles, it served little purpose now.

‘What made him tired?’, I thought, examining his face. His eyes, otherwise full and impressionable, were focused on the floor tiles, trying to avoid the sun as if it could blind him. I slumped inside the old studio, collapsing on a velvet armchair.

“Not your best day?” he chirped behind me, running a hand through unruly ginger curls. “Did you at least get the job?” He was leaning in now, genuine concern washing over his cheeks.

“What do you think?” I snapped, an unexpected volume added to my voice. The words tasted bitter leaving my lips. A hurt frown etched lines on Jonathan's facial features and his shoulders lifted defensively, like a cat arching its back. I could feel my heart sink.

Silent, he stepped back, going behind the kitchen counter, where he poured his morning glass of orange juice.

“This whole situation is all my fault” I murmured rubbing my forehead. “I should have gone back when the general asked me to I'm such an idiot. Such an idiot.” My fingers clenched the armchair.

Why did you not return. You're selfish. That's what you are.

“Hold on Angel, what did you just say?” Jonathan's voice cut through the tension. He paused, letting the eerie silence stretch out for what felt like decades. My fingers rushed to fidget with eachother. Nervous, I awaited his words.

“You want to go back to them? Trot behind them like you used to? Like we used to? I thought we left so they couldn't control us anymore.” he said, voice wavering. “You're telling me you regret this?” he clenched his fists. Betrayal took over and his lips parted, clasping desperately in a fumble for something to say.

“I'm not good at anything else, Jay.” I cut his monologue, looking up at my friend, once detective partner. “And you know that.”

“Come on, don't you understand what this is Angel?” he slammed his palm on the kitchen table, knocking over what he had poured into his glass. “This is manipulation! They threatened you to resign. Aren't you supposed to be the observant one? Is there something you are not telling me?”

“I could have taken up their return offer and I would have been careful.” I replied, clenching my jaw tight.

“It's not you, it's them. Not everything is your fault, you know.” he softened his voice, trying to get through to me.

“You quit because of me.” I murmured.

“People were threatening my best friend, of course I did.”.he put his hands up, like he was shouting an obvious fact. “And now said best friend wants to go crawling back to those same, twisted people.”

I sighed, waving my head and my locks swung wild with the movement. “I'm sorry.”

“That's the issue Angel, you don't have to be. We made a pact. No more puppet strings, no more dancing to their tune.” he went on.

“Jay, they're still out there. The corruption of of the system- we can't ignore it forever.” I leaned in, a slight groan in my voice.

“All right, but if we do this, we'll work as a team. No more secrets, nor half-truths” he requested, releasing a sharp exhale.

“You know I can't risk it Jay. You shouldn't have to come after me all the time. It just makes things worse.”

“So I'm incompetent? Is that what you're implying?” he looked hurt- and I was sorry.

“No it's just that...” I paused searching for the right thing to say. What could be said anyway.

“Well that's great Angel! At least now I know what you really think of me!” he raised his voice and I knew I had gone too far; especially for him to yell.