Tale of the Prophet Bearer: The Dark Queen's Reign

Epilogue

Rick Miller already knew something was wrong when he found out he had a visitor, but his suspicion sky rockets when he's left alone with a stranger, without security. There isn't even a pane of glass to separate them, just a table, two chairs, and a man he'd never seen before. Rick lingers on his feet, letting the bad feeling he's getting shake his core. He's on edge enough with the other inmates—it's a wonder they haven't killed him yet—and this scene screams danger.

The stranger is another story. He's younger and attractive, with dark brown hair that matches his eyes. Dark bags are set under his intently focused gaze and looks like they had been there for a while, or he had too much to drink. He's cleanly shaven completing his tidy appearance and Rick already knows he isn't an inmate, but the fancy tuxedo he wears points that out. Plus, he's sucking on a candy cane and twisting a Rubix-cube in his hands, none of which should be in prison. If only Rick could get his hands on it, he could suck the cane to make a pick and break his lock... Or kill somebody. Ether one would do.

Rick sits down and the stranger, too enveloped in his game, doesn't notice. "I haven't got all day." Rick pushes the usual gruffness and authority back in his voice, even though he hadn't used it in a while.

A snort is his reply and the man smiles, looking up with a glint of amusement and what looks to be apprehension. Almost as if he regrets something. "Yeah, you really don't."

The inmate nods to the candy and game. "How'd you manage to get those in here? You must be some kind of rich to pay off the guards." The thought makes him hopeful. A rich, well dressed visitor coming to jail and requesting to see him, managing to bring prohibited items with him couldn't be a coincidence.

"I didn't pay," the man answers with a shrug. "I smuggled it in."

"You're not scared I'll tell?"

"Nope."

As Rick watches the man return to his game, he couldn't decide if he's ignorant or just plain stupid. Maybe both. If he ticked him off any, there was no hesitation about of Rick reporting him. "So why'd you call me here?"

"Right, yes, sorry," He lays the cube down. "I get distracted easily, but yeah, I need to get back on business." He pauses as he thinks about his words, absentmindedly picking at the stickers on the Rubix-cube. "I have a debt I need to pay. I made a promise several years ago and I realized you need to be part of that promise."

"Nobody owes me nothing."

"Nobody owes me anything," He corrects, and if Rick had something on him, he would have beat the guy up. "Always have proper grammar, even if you're evil. That's what my dad used to say. Except for the evil part. And yes, I owe you."

"Who are you?"

The man stops, blinks a few times, and frowns. He sighs and leans back in his chair, looking longingly at his wrinkle-free tuxedo. "You know, I'm not sure."

Rick decides that he isn't ignorant or stupid. He's insane. "Are you kidding me?"

"Well I know my real name, but I'm picking out a new one, and I haven't decided on one, so everything is still a bit uncertain," He explains, scrunching his face in thought. He looks back at the gruff man and smiles. "So no, I'm not kidding you."

The inmate sighs and rubs his face. "Fine, whatever." He stands and marches towards the door. "While you decide who you are, I'm getting out of here."

"Wait, wait," He stands and pushes the chair back with a loud squeal. "I need to repay my debt and I can promise you—"he pauses and holds his fingers up for dramatic effect—"that you'll be able to escape."

Rick stops just as he reaches for the doorknob, staring at the dim shadows under the door of guards running about. A smile creeps up his mouth. Okay, so that sounds like a debt he'd like. Plus, this man looks like he could pay off every criminal's time in the joint and there was no way he could get past the officers outside so this man might just be the answer to his needs. He turns around and faces the well dressed man, puffing his chest so he looks bigger and threatening. He leans his head and neck back, seeming more annoyed that Rick is invading his person-space rather than scared he's face to face with a criminal. "Alright. Give it to me."

The man raises his eyebrows. "You want it?" His voice is full of surprise.

"Yes."

"You sure?"

"Give it to me already!" He snaps.

"Okay, okay, calm down!" He rolls his eyes and steps back, digging into his coat pocket. Rick grumbles and crosses his arms as he waits, letting him know he's impatient by tapping his fingers on his arm. Then a thought springs on his mind that troubles him.

What did this man, this stranger, have in his pocket that can help him escape?

"Oh, wait!" The man grins and reaches into the pocket on his chest, pulling out a card with a small man styling a mustache that read, Get out of jail, free. "I've always wanted to do this!"

He waves it at him, pestering until Rick took the Monopoly card. Rick massages the bridge of his nose, letting out a quiet string of curs words as the man continues to dig through his pocket.

"Ah, here we are." Rick looks up and the sight of a gun greets him.

The curses he murmurs turns into a scream and he scrambles back. Accidentally crashing into a chair, he flips over and lands on his head, only to jump up as soon as he could.

"I'm doing this for two reasons." The man says with a sudden soberness, a shadow falling over his face. "First is the debt, and second is the abuse of your children. Any man who would cut, hit, starve, or whatever you did to those poor kids deserves to die. You don't deserve for somebody to call you father. You deserve a painful death and much worse things, but I'm doing them a favor and ending your pathetic waste of existence right now."

Rick starts to protest, but a loud shot rang out and a searing pain pushes into his stomach. He lets out a gasp of shock. The pain knocks him to the ground in a matter of seconds.

"Dang, that was loud," The man mumbles, rubbing his ears. He shakes his head and points back at his abdomen and shoots again.

The crook's blood-curdling scream fills the air.

"Maybe that will be some justification for the things you've done," He swipes up his Rubix-cube and sticks it in his pocket, but there's no indication that it was there. No lump, nothing. It's like he made it disappear into thin air. "I have to be off. I've got a ton of work to do. Planning a party," He smiles, the sober moment he had passing. "I'm super excited about it."

He turns to leave, but Rick manages to croak out a shaky, "Wait!" which makes him stop. "What debt was it?"

"Oh, yeah. I almost forgot about that." The stranger strolls over and kneels down so their heads are side by side. "Sorry," he whispers and readjusts himself to get more comfortable and so his tuxedo wouldn't be wrinkled. "I know this is like, incredibly awkward, but it's for dramatic effect. Have you ever seen that episode in that TV show—I forget what it's called. But a person is dying and the bad guy is about to be stupid and reveal their entire plan—not that I'm a bad guy or anything—"

"Get on with it!" Rick coughs, blood splattering onto his lips.

"Right, sorry. You only have a few more minutes, after all, and I want your to be confused for those minutes." He leans forward, lowering his voice to a whisper,

"You shot my daughter."