Deadlock || ᴠᴍɪɴ

Chapter 1

Jerry had asked him to meet at a small café on 9th Avenue, close to the New York Division of the DEA (Drug Enforcement Administration).

Jimin Lennix was overcome with nostalgia as he passed by the front of the red brick Chelsea Market. He used to shop here often when he was still with the DEA.

He glanced to the other side of the street to see that a new Italian restaurant had opened. The exterior of the building next door had been repainted to a different colour.

After a ten-month absence, Jimin's former neighbourhood looked the same at first glance, but hints of the unfamiliar showed here and there.

Jimin couldn't help but feel the passage of time as he continued briskly walking through the Manhattan streets, which were starting to show the signs of autumn.

After a while, he arrived at the café. Jimin pushed the door open and walked into the antique-style establishment. Jerry was sitting at a table in the very back, reading the newspaper.

"Jerry, I'm sorry I'm late."

As Jimin approached, his former colleague, Jerry Rodriguez, stood from his seat looking overcome with emotion. The two embraced without a moment's hesitation, and shared in their joy of reunion.

"You're looking good, Jimin."

"You, too."

When the waitress approached to take his order, Jimin ordered a cappuccino before taking a seat.

"Sorry for calling you up out of the blue like that," Jimin apologized.

"Don't worry about it. It was great to hear from you. I was worried about you the whole time, you know? I'm just relieved that we were able to meet up again like this," Jerry said with a smile. Jerry was a friendly Puerto Rican, two years older than Jimin at age thirty. He was the closest friend to Jimin after Paul, his former partner.

"Oh, right. Here's the name and address of the cemetery where Paul is buried. It's in Flushing, so it's not that far," said Jerry.

"Thanks. I owe you one," Jimin said as he looked down at the memo that was handed to him.

Jimin had decided to stop off at New York instead of going straight from Quantico to Washington, DC so he could visit Paul's grave. When he had called Jerry to ask for the location, the man had insisted on meeting up while Jimin was in Manhattan, and Jimin hadn't been able to bring himself to refuse.

"Jimin, you sure you don't wanna come back to the DEA?"

"I'm sure. Thankfully I've already got a job lined up. I'll make the best of my fresh start," Jimin said, taking care to sound light-hearted. He had only told Jerry that he had a job offer in DC.

"Is that so? That's too bad. Everyone was wishing you'd come back, you know."

Jimin gave a vague smile and picked up the cappuccino as it arrived, bringing it to his lips.

"So what kind of company are you gonna be working for?"

Jimin paused for a moment. "A security company," he said finally.

"I see," Jerry said, seemingly unsuspicious.

It was out of convenience that Jimin had lied. If he told the truth, Jerry would no doubt demand to hear about his reasons and events leading up to his decision. Jimin's unusual circumstances was not something he could explain in brief words.

"You look like you lost some weight," Jerry remarked. "They gave you a hard time over there, didn't they?"

Jerry's gaze was sympathetic. Jimin didn't enjoy being pitied, but it was natural for Jerry to behave that way. How else could one behave toward an innocent man who was imprisoned for a crime he didn't commit?