The GreyHatter (Completed)

Chapter 2

Four Years Later...

The Chicago Police Department has been chasing me for months. Despite my anti-heroic crimes, they still call me a notorious criminal. They even got a sketch artist to figure out what I would look like. For now, the police thinks that I am a thirty year old man with bad teeth, scars, and torn clothes  instead of a seventeen year old kid.

It's amazing how people believe this trash. The cops were too stupid enough to come and find me. My place is an abandoned apartment which I use to put hidden cameras in every room, whether it's the lobby or the bathroom.  With the one-hundred fifty dollars, I made my dirty sanctuary into a clean habitat.

Other than monitors and computers, I swept, polished, and wipe all the dust cobwebs then bought furniture, a television set,  a fridge, and groceries. The trick was, I walked out of my hideout through the back door in order to avoid getting attention especially from the police. When my hideout has been noticed, I'll fled Chicago by using the plane tickets I bought online. My suitcase was filled with half of my clothes, a dozen passports, the remaining eighty dollar bills, and my Visa card.

After I took a long, hot shower, I slipped on my blue jeans, grey t-shirt, and placed sunglasses on my eyes.  I even strapped on my favorite grey woolen cap to bring the light into my brown hair. After I stuffed my laptop into my bag, I then stumbled out of my apartment to get coffee.

"That'll be three dollars and fifty-one cents," the waitress sighed. I reached into my pocket and handed her the crumbled bills.  Five minutes later, she laid my coffee on the table and took the money. Without a word, I took my coffee and laptop then sat somewhere next to the glass door so I can read  Chicago police's personal files. Almost everyone of them has a rough past, but some remained corrupt as well as pathetic.

Like Clarence, for instance, when he was fresh out of the Harvard University, the only thing he does for a living is providing the world with endless technology, but I still don't trust him.  I slipped my coffee then cringed at the taste. I removed the lid of the cup then put two sugars in my black coffee.
Just as I was about to scroll down the page, something unusual caught my eye.

I saw a young woman and a man (presumably her boyfriend) arguing on the front doorsteps of the cafe. The young woman was fair skinned, tall and slender, has a delicate heart shaped face. Dirty blonde hair spilled onto her backside, her piercing green eyes stared at her boyfriend with intense anger.

She wore a black leather jacket, grey t-shirt, black jeans, and matching boots. Her boyfriend, however, looked like he was born in the military. Buzz cut hair, olive brown eyes, muscled body, that creepy stare you do when you give eye contact to your boss, he was practically living in the American dream.

He wore a white t-shirt, long black jeans, a dog tag necklace, and a broad face. Not wanting to get involve, I placed my ear buds then cranked up the volume to classics. After I was finished with my coffee, I dumped the remains into the trash and walked out of the cafe.

"Excuse me," I murmured, squishing my body between their awkward space. The girl looked back at me with fascination and disgust while her ex-boyfriend abandoned her. Feeling her eyes on the back of my head, I wanted to turn around and tell her to mind her own business, but I hated speaking to her as much as I hated to speaking to the world.