The Blackbirds Song

Chapter 3

May 5th, an average day. Deep in the town of Virginia City, in Nevada. All was silent except for the wailing of the pigeons outside. But first looks can be deceptive.

It had been about two months since he had made that treacherous flight across the North Pacific and Flavian Jeong had just awoken and was getting dressed. He made his way downstairs from his shabby apartment, where there was a tiny cafe. He ordered a carrot muffin and some tea and had just made himself comfortable in his usual booth when a loud bang rang through the air. 

He heard gunshots. 

Those were the only things in America, that were in Korea too, the only sounds that brought him back to his past life. He gave himself a little shake. He was a world away from all that. Another shot was fired.

Out of instinct, he ducked.

He heard his back crack. He did not care. What was a broken back, when you could be dead instead? All he could see was a tall, masked figure, whipping what appeared to be a long rifle through the air.

Sirens were blaring everywhere. Flavian could feel himself being thrown to the ground. He prayed that Panther Man was not back for more, recalling a nightmare that he had not forgotten, and was not likely to soon forget. He did not think his poor spine would make it through another round of whack-a-mole. 

He could feel something sharp puncturing the skin underneath his shoulder. He heard screaming.

The man had a shiny badge. 'Law enforcement', Jeong thought quickly. Normally, he would have been pleased to see them, but they were the ones slamming him to the ground. 'Couldn't they see I was nowhere near the shooting?' Jeong wondered desperately. What on Earth could they possibly want?

The police shoved him into a carriage, just as another policeman came forward.

'Shouldn't we read him his rights sir?', he asked tentatively, though did not appear to consider it likely that his proposition would be well-received.

'Look at him: He's filth' the first officer said, maliciously. 'He would not understand anyway. He probably just immigrated from the jungle.'

The second enforcement agent barked at the driver to get going, and they went down a long and bumpy road, which took them straight to the town detention center.

'Murderer!' the first officer spat into the face of Flavian Jeong. He could feel the saliva dripping down his cheeks. He could see his life walking away. 'Sir, I didn't do it, I was on the other side of the cafe!' He did not mean to scream, but he was panicking.

'How dare you blame a notable man as he! I know you did it. And you're going to prison, to pay the price. You are dirt on legs. This is your punishment for sliming up our country.'

By the time he had finished talking, his face was red, and inches away from Jeong's, who had sweat pouring down his face. He could see no way out of his situation.

He suddenly felt a burning, hot anger inside of him, one he had never felt before. He was sick of their snobby, American attitudes. He was not an animal, he was not dirty. He never decided to yell. He never decided to hit the first officer on the head. All he knew, was that he wanted justice, he needed justice. 

He was mad. Angry. Beside himself with rage. Every muscle in his face was distorted with the ugliest emotion known to man.

Jeong knew that he was a big man. He knew he had muscle. So it was not shocking when the officer fell to the floor with a mighty BANG. All consciousness had left his body.

His companion screamed with rage and shock. He pointed an armed rifle right at Jeong's chest and screamed for reinforcements. He, with the help of seven other armed men, finally managed to lock Flavian Jeong up in a small room, with bars on the windows.

He knew a bad fate awaited him. He was scared out of his wits. Out of all the bad days that he had been through, today had definitely come out on top. He would never, ever forget today.

I should know. I am he.