By Opposing, End Them

Chapter I

"Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer/ The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,/ Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,/ And, by opposing, end them?"

~Hamlet, Act III, Scene i

It was well into the back half of midnight. I was sitting in a bar, one of those sleazy all-night joints that don't particularly care who goes in and who goes out. Criminal, politician, fireman, homeless, Christian, Muslim... all of these lost meaning under the heady odor of bad vodka and cigarette smoke. As long as the barkeep was paid, everyone was equal-equal amounts of miserable. Everyone sat by themselves, each silently huddling over their own god-awful drinks, willing away their cares and troubles under the welcome fog of intoxication. I was among their ranks that cold November night. I sat at the bar, glooming over a glass of gin on the rocks under the glare of garish neon lights. The barkeep sidled up to me, a grim mockery of happiness and good cheer.

"So, what's got yeh down t'night, Jack?" he asked, feigning friendliness.

I responded with a cold, stony stare. The barkeep shrugged and moved on to plague another hapless victim. I resumed my cheerless vigil. A cold draft wafted through the bar, making me shiver. I lifted the collar of my worn black trench coat and pulled my fedora down a little further. It was a sad attempt to keep out the cold. I took a good swig of the gin. Soon I felt a touch warmer.

The bells on the door jingled, announcing the arrival of another sad patron. I glanced over my shoulder and saw a small, red haired man wearing a hilariously oversized coat. He was shivering visibly. I proceeded to ignore him with a passion.

"Jack Flint?" the man asked in a small, tinny voice.

"Piss off," I responded. The man ignored me and took the stool next to me. I shuffled further into my coat.

"Are you Jack Flint?" the man asked again.

"What's it to you?" I growled from the depths.

"The detective?"

I rose from my coat. "What do you want?" I snarled, more than an edge of irritation coming across.

"I have a case for you-"

"I don't want your goddamn case!"

"I'll make it worth your while-"

"Damn my while! What's it ever been worth, anyway?"

The man was silent. I returned to my drink, finishing it in one gulp. I sat there, glowering at nothing in particular.

"You know, Jack, you look awful," the man said.

"Really? How good of you to notice," I sneered.

"No, really, when's the last time you shaved?"

"Why do you care?"

"Why are you so upset?"

I laughed in astonishment. "Why am I upset?" I rose to address the bar at large. "Why am I upset? Pal, have you even looked at a newspaper recently? Haven't you been watching the goddamn news? Don't you even have a goddamn radio?"

"Y-yes-" the man stammered.

I leaned in close to him, going for the kill. "Then you must have seen the headlines! 'Three Dead due to Detective Incompetency'. 'Flint Lets Three Die'. 'Parnell Case Ends in Tragedy'. I'm worthless! I'm incompetent! Good sir, I am a murderer!"

Everyone's eyes were glued on me as I let the words sink in. The small man took a while to regain what little composure he had had to begin with. I sat down, still glaring at him.

"But- but surely it can't be as bad as all that-"

"Yes. Yes, it is as bad as all that," I said, cruelly mimicking his voice. "Now piss off. I don't want your goddamn case. Go find a real goddamn detective," I said, turning away from him in shame and disgust.

The man sat there, waiting for something to happen. Nothing happened. The other patrons returned to their own private worlds of misery. Nothing continued to happen. The man sighed.

"Well, here's my business card, in case you change your mind." He handed over his card, which I snatched from him and shoved deep into my pocket without looking. The man left without another word.

I sat there a while more, my head reeling. Eventually I became so distraught that I threw down a few dollar bills and stood up to leave.

I heard a strange jingling sound. I looked and saw that the bells were ringing but nobody was going in or out. I looked back at my glass, which was beginning to shake and quiver. It tipped over with a sharp ting.

Then I noticed the tremors. The whole bar began to shake, softly at first, but growing steadily more intense. I collapsed, grabbing hold of the barstool. The tremors had become a full-blown earthquake. Everyone was shaken from their sorrows, and they dove under tables and chairs for protection. The shaking grew to a deafening roar.

The door flew open with a colossal bang. A brilliant white light filled the bar, blinding me. The shaking grew so intense and the light so dazzling that I could no longer process anything. I fell to the floor, covering my face as best I could.

Suddenly, I knew no more.