Mortality

Justification

                                                                                           10.

 Of course there was nothing here. How stupid could he be? Why would the warehouse contain any evidence after all the police interference? Jonathan shoved aside a couple of damp boxes just to feel as if he were doing something. He lashed out angrily at the nearest wall, achieving nothing but a sharp pain in his toe. He grunted and waited for it to subside. The trip had been completely meaningless. While his spirits were dampened significantly, a sort of perverse curiosity had arisen inside Jonathan. He felt the sudden urge to revisit his old cell, perhaps to look at what had made him this way, but also to remember why he had to continue. He located the backroom fairly quickly, but was too frightened to enter when he opened the door. What if he were somehow locked in again? No, simply contemplating the room would suffice. Jonathan was stricken by a thought as he stared at the bed, which looked the same apart from having been stripped bare. How many other victims had lain there, had experienced such horrors? Maybe he was not the only one who had been tortured at the hands of that psycho, but he felt he was the unluckiest of the lot. While he had physically accomplished it, he could never truly leave this place. At least the others may have found peace in death. Jonathan was condemned to remember, perhaps for all eternity. He was not sure how far his healing abilities would stretch, but the thought sickened him.

 He stared unseeingly for several more minutes before shutting the door; however, it would not snap shut satisfactorily. Jonathan hoped that was not symbolic. He emerged from the warehouse with a feeling of extreme disappointment and a mental tenderness after reliving some dramatic events. All was not lost, though, He had not uncovered any hints as to the current whereabouts of his torturer, but he knew of a method of obtaining them, albeit a rather sinister one. Pehaps if he could engage some of his persuasiveness. With an air of drawing on one's last reserves, Jonathan removed Julia's mobile phone from his jacket pocket and dialled. "Hello?" he began shakily, acting nervous. "I'm calling to report shots fired..."

 Jonathan braced himself as he watched the car slowly pull up at the warehouse entrance. Two occupants, one male, one female. He was thankful for the unobtrusive nature of Julia's car as he enjoyed the ease at which he could observe them. He hadn't even needed to park particularly far away. The male officer exited the vehicle unconcernedly, probably unconvinced of the crime reported. Jonathan bit his tongue as he waited for the other officer to follow suit. She did so, with a touch more seriousness, but still not exactly with any urgency. This was what he had been anticipating. Jonathan steeled himself, started the car and began to gather speed. Its relatively silent engine allowed him to get close without arousing suspicion. He ploughed into the woman before either really registered the fatal essence of the situation. Momentum carried the car into the male with only a minor swerve required. Jonathan quickly reversed from the scene and opened the door. He was glad to find a pulse in both wrists as he checked for signs of life.

 It was probably better to question the male, he decided. Funny, how social etiquette influenced his actions even at a time like this. After acquiring each officer's gun and pocketing one, with the other firmly pointed at the policeman's face, Jonathan attempted to rouse him with a blow to the face. His second attempt was successful. Before the man could accomplish more than blinking dazedly, Jonathan had him by the collar and was roughly shaking him. "Can you hear me?" he yelled. The man spat in his face and threw a clumsy fist at him. Jonathan panicked, and acted on the first thought that entered his mind: he shot. 

 An immense bang and piercing screams filled the night air, eventually replaced by clawing, gasping breaths. By this time, Jonathan had regained some composure, and pretended as though he had meant for this to happen. He clamped a hand over the officer's mouth and told himself not to look at a horribly familiar would in the man's right knee. "Now, we're gonna have a little chat, you and me, or else you'll have more trouble than a gunshot wound. A few months ago, there was an attempted murder here. What do you know about the-the victim." he spat out the last word with contempt. A muffled cry prompted him to remove his hand. He received no answer. "If you knew, you wouldn't tell me, right?" he leered. Bang. The other knee mangled. "Next one goes in her." he growled. This earned a reaction. "NO!" the man screamed, tears in his eyes, whether from pain or something else, Jonathan neither knew nor cared. "No, I-I'll tell you what I know. He was put in Witness Protection, begged for it. Said he was threatened, said there were more people involved than the guy convicted. He's got a new identity, I don't know the name." he choked out after many slurred attempts. "Well, you better remember, because I can keep going 'til you swallow your tongue." Jonathan was forcibly reminded of a similar occurence as he ground his heel into an already mutilated knee. He tolerated the sobs for a few minutes, but eventually grew irate. "WHERE IS HE?" "Please, please stop, I'll tell you, I swear," the informer mumbled meekly, "I have to visit him sometimes, I can tell you where he is."

 Jonathan climbed back into the car feeling he was, at last, getting somewhere. Fortunately for him, the policeman had been easy to crack, though he sensed it had more to do with his initial threat than the pain he inflicted. As the road strecthed ahead of him with promises of closure, Jonathan did not even think about the means he had used to uncover his information. He did not consider that he was becoming more and more like the person he sought. All that crossed his mind was the injustice of it all. His captor, in Witness Protection? The only comfort to him was the fact that he would have his revenge, and soon.