Comedy and Tragedy II: Broken Angels

Swerve!

Harrison Quinn.

Have I mentioned how I much I hate airports?

As people rushed around me, I was hoping to keep a low profile. Dressed in a suit shirt, vest and slacks, I seemed to look professional, as long as you didn't look at my feet.

What can I say? I love my chucks, but they don't give off a good professional air.

"Alright." I muttered. "Now, I was looking for someone..." I scratched my head. When I landed, I got a text from Delilah on who to look out for.

All she had said was that it was a kid around my age, with lavender, around pinkish hair. What is up with people and pink hair?

(No offense, pink hair's cool. But I have almost pink hair, a friend of mine has pink hair, now another acquaintance with pink hair. Soon, I won't be able to use that phrase to identify anyone.)

Either way, as I walked through the crowd, I focused more on the papers in my pocket. I didn't want to lose them, especially in this crowd. Pickpockets or butterfingers, I didn't know what I was more worried about.

When someone slammed into me, I freaked for a second, but then I made eye contact with the guy who ran into me.

"I'm sorry." The guy said. He pulled at the hem of his shirt, and smiled guiltily at me. "You okay?"

I nodded, and the guy patted me on the shoulder.

"Good." That was the last thing he said before slipping into the crowd, silent. Like water through a crack.

I don't know why, but the guy gave me chills. I could only think about his voice. It was a thousand accents being blended together into one. Weird.

"Yo."

I felt another hand placed on my shoulder, and I turned on my heel to see a face smirking at me, from under a fringe of neon pink waves.

Probably my age. Bright pink hair.

"Harry, right?" The kid asked, holding out a hand. "I'm supposed to take you to the fuzz."

I smiled, and shook. "Yeah, I'm Harry." I replied. "And you?"

They smirked cockily at me. "Call me Flamer. It's what everyone calls me."

I nodded, and without a word, Flame started pulling me through the crowd.

"Got your stuff?" Flamer asked. I nodded, and slammed the trunk of the taxi.

"Cool!" The stuck their head out the window. "Get in."

I followed the instructions, and got in, buckling up.

Alright, when I said taxi, I meant that in the loosest term. The car was a beat up Dodge Demon, painted platinum purple and pink, with stickers and rims. An attempted muscle car.

Flamer grabbing the walkie talkie, and at full blast they yelled.

"YOU READY TO RIDE?!"

I nodded, covering my ears.

"ALRIGHT!" Flamer turned on the radio, pumping up Nickelback. "LET'S GET READY TO ROCK!"

Shit. I thought, as I held to the armrest for dear life. I'm in a car with a teenager.

I could hear Flamer whooping as they revved the engine, then shot off like a rocket. I was glad that I had written my last will and testament before I came here.

Occupational hazard.

________________________________________________________________________________

Unknown.

I cannot believe that I wasn't getting caught.

I slammed on the brake as I turned the wheel, causing asphalt to get chewed up under the wheels.

"Alright!" I yelled. I looked back at Harry, who looked like he was gonna lose yesterday's lunch. "I'm gonna take a shortcut, alright? But we gotta make a quick pit stop first!"

When I saw the shock on his face I added, "I'll take it off your bill!" That's when I zoned out, screaming along to Whole Lotta Love.

I was on Main Street at this point, and I knew I needed to get outta sight. Doing a hard turn, I went into an alley, barely big enough to let me through.

I smiled. I love driving, and in my ride I was boss.

Slamming on the brakes again, I did a huge swerve, to avoid crashing into a few dumpsters.

"SO!" I yelled. "WHERE YOU FROM?!"

I could barely hear Harry answer, but I heard him though.

"I'M FROM NEW ORLEANS!" He yelled. "I THOUGHT YOU KNEW, YOU WERE SENT TO GET ME!"

I flinched. Gogh flammit. I forgot.

"YEAH, OF COURSE!" I yelled. "I'M JUST TRYING TO BE CONVERSATIONAL!"

Harry shrugged. "IF WE'RE GONNA TALK, CAN YOU TURN THE MUSIC DOWN?!"

I turned it down, leaving a whisper of Led Zeppelin floating in the air.

"Sorry." I said. "I like jamming out when I'm driving."

He nodded. "Understandable." He rasped, grasping his chest.

He raised his head, and his eyes going wide. "And speaking of driving--!"

I turned around, and winced.

Two cars were coming right at me. There was barely any space left in between them, and the faces in the cars were anything but friendly.

"Motherfu-" I barked, and reached into my glove box. "Not again!"

Harry looked at me from the rear view mirror. "Again?!"

"Keep your head low!" I yelled.

Smiling, I pulled what I was looking for out of my glove compartment.

My gun, loaded with a cocktail of bullets and tranqs.

As the two guys leaned out their windows, aiming a few guns at me, I fired.

A loud hiss came from both cars. I smiled at the two cars swerved and slammed into the walls, leaving me a big enough space to speed through before the cars crashed.

Harry was looking through the back window, gaping at everything that was happening in the back. When he turned back to me, the look on that kid's face was priceless!

"Uh..." He gasped. "Does this happen to you a lot?"

I smiled, and looked in the rear view mirror. His face was a ghostly pale, making his freckles show up more. He looked like a kid trying to be a man.

"Yeah." I said. Grabbing my phone, I saw a single text on the screen.

Where r u???

Smiling, I looked back at Harry, and turned out onto Kingsland. Bunches of people were walking the beat, and there was lots of light. Just where my buddy wanted me to find him.

"Alright." I said, stepping on the brakes. "Approaching minimums, be prepared for impact."

Harry looked at me. "Why we stopping?" He asked.

I honked on the horn. Once, twice, three times. The signal.

Smiling, I didn't bother looking at him. Didn't have to.

"We have a surprise guest this evening, kiddo."