The lights shine bright on a rainy night all over a jungle of a city, cars and buses scurry about on roads like their playground complete with horns, screeching tires, and swearing. Along with the little details of smokers and stoners in the alley ways, street dancers and magicians earning cash while amazing walker-by's, and police officers and neighborhood watch stopping petty thrives and muggers. All mixing well to give a habitat built by and for humans.
As the rains continues to patter down, it gives a noire mood to a local coffee shop downtown.
"He strolls by the broken shards of glass...no the empty...he strolls by a cracked window leaving shards to-how about...", a writer whispers in the corner as he ponders exactly how to describe his thriller of a novel, he stares blankly at the bright screen with multiple thoughts driving through his head; what if it's too descriptive? Have I used too much adjectives? I'm trying to figure out how exactly the climax will be. Just get through this part and you can edit later.
He takes another sip of coffee, the tenth one in 3 minutes as he continues to think. "How about-he walks over broken shards as the calm wind-no just wind..."
The shop door bell rings as a slightly stuffed, middle aged man with a slight grey in his hair walks in, his jacket soaked. The writer pays no notice as he types on trying to figure out what words to put into his story. It isn't until the booth he is in shakes for him to dart his eyes up only to just put them back down as the large man takes a seat across from him.
"You know what I'm gonna say", the writer tells while still trying to focus on his work.
"I might be kind of a nuisance to you but come on Ray, at least look at me", the man responds shaking his deep laugh lines.
Ray speaks up, "Well you can't seem to get the damn picture that I don't want anything to do you or those psychos anymore".
"You gotta give an old man credit for trying, all I'm asking is if you just hear me out", the man retaliates.
"May I ask how the offer has changed this time?" Ray continues to pay little attention with his empty shell of tone.
"Let's just say I've been keeping a closer eye on you lately, and by the looks of it you just don't know what to do with your life".
The typing stops as Ray finally draws his eyes up. The man continues," I mean ever since you left you've taken up cooking, painting, video editing, cooking again now writing!? You have no idea if you have any other talents".
"Well that's why I'm searching, rather be doing this than that old job".
"C'mom, I know you do want to come back in but you just can't accept that, the way you try to ignore it is just pathetic. It's clear to me so why isn't it clear for you?"
Ray just gives him a irritated look.
"I want to ask you boy, would you rather sit here everyday writing shitty stories and continue being miserable 'ole you? Or would you want to bring the excitement back just once? Remind yourself of the real you, the true you! I know what your thinking, you just gotta accept it", the man gives an eager/smug look. The writer responds with a dark stare and then looks back down at his laptop, the typing proceeds.
"Alright", the man says in an undefeated voice, "you see that guy with the large nose and greasy hair?"
Ray darts his eyes to the side to see the described person eyeing him before looking down at his phone.
"He has an earpiece on with a suppressed m9 in his coat, he's been following you since 6:09pm keeping a very close distance. His assailants know all about your 'exciting' life and what it has done to their business, so you come with me just this once and relive the past or you get to deal with Mr. Assassin over here."
Ray continues to stare as the guy is brought his coffee giving the waitress a greeting then looking back down at his phone. Clearly phoning it in.
"Can I finally get good news this time?" The man gives his final offer with wide eyes. He waits.
Ray looks down at the keyboard and looks back up to see a patient face.
His lips dried and his cheeks cold he darts down again and then back up this time with a lowered brow.
"Fine, Lucius, I'm back in but only if you give me what I want and hear to my commands you hear me?...I'm only doing this because I got nothing else to do with my life".
"Wonderful", Lucius smiles then takes a quit sip from his coffee.
"So, what do we do about him?" Ray asks.
"Oh, I already have it covered".
The guy at the other end of the shop eyes Ray and takes a quick sip, until he jolts back.
He reaches for his neck while shaking rapidly, his grunts and cries grows louder right before he lunches forward vomiting dark blood onto the table like a faucet running red water. At this point everyone in the shop looks on in horror, screaming as this man begins to tear at it trachea. His eyes are nearly popped and he grits his velvet teeth. The air around him feels faint and then he proceeds to slams his face into the stained table, over and over while red foam froths from his sour lips. His foreheads bleeds from the trauma then finally leans back twitching slowly before his body grows cold and stiff.
The rest of the place cries out,
"FUCK!"
"SOMEBODY CALL THE POLICE!"
Ray's face is left shaking his eyes widening and his mouth gazed open from what he has just seen. He then tilts his head towards Lucius who is calmly drinking coffee while not having a care in the world for what just happens before looking up and grinning.
"Welcome back kid."
