Into the Light

Untitled Part 2

Chapter: 2

Figured I'd give you chapter quotes so this whole reading thing doesn't feel so foreign with me popping in and out. Here is a suitable quote from a dude who knew how to party. I won't interrupt at the beginning of chapters anymore. Promise. Well, at least not for a while.

"To succeed in the world it is not enough to be stupid, you must also be well mannered." Voltaire

Sunday comes as autumn whispers incantations to the bustling city of windows but summer is not done casting its spell over metropolis. Fall has fallen away. A tempest looms low in the nearby sky. A low-pressure system from the west writhes with humidity stolen from the south as it folds forward, faster and faster, gaining strength, growing darker as it slams into the cold from the north. The east is eclipsed in false night.

The storm wails, a banshee in flight, across the horizon and drapes its shroud over the glowing skyscrapers. Static fields collide. Electrons flow and ionize the atmosphere. The black velvet clouds charged with blue static dance across the backlit tapestry of twilight. Sparks illuminate the face of the brewing tempest and the leading edge boils forth.

A dense rain follows a cannon shot. A volley of electrical tendrils, spears of luminous serpents, bite the cityscape and thunder rattles the city of windows. The skyscrapers flicker like torches. A brief pause comes and the nervous energy expels through the substations.

Blake Moxley, with a planned out plan and two more gray hairs than the day before, sits doing other's work. He dreams of Oreos and sterilizes his hands with Purell before minimizing an Excel spreadsheet. A new Darth Vader action figure rests in a coffee mug next to his monitor. He touches the black helmet that is scuffed from the sidewalk where he found it outside the Shake Shack at MadisonSquarePark.

"It's just you and me Darth," he says.

Blake goes online to access his private email account. One message with no subject line from his bookie reads: You lose tonight, you pay.

"Damn. How'd I ever start this shit? Need a girlfriend to stop me from being an asshole," he says.

Lightning strikes a tower two blocks over sending a sonic boom to shake the windows. Blake's computer screen dims and pixelates with colorful clusters of squares as the lights in the downtown office building sputter. Full power returns and his bloodshot eyes close for three seconds to vanquish the headache that lances his fatigued mind. He opens his eyes to see nothing has changed.

A dusky glow passes though the westerly window and floods the 40th floor office. The only other occupant, a Temp with her personal effects in a canvas bag, strolls by with soft steps waiting for him to look at her. She thinks Blake is a great guy. Helped when others stood by. If I wasn't married what we could do would be criminal. What is he even doing working in an office? He should be a model with those vulnerable eyes.

"Bye Blake," she says. He blinks and swivels in his chair to face her.

"Good bye Caroline. It was wonderful working with you. Maybe we will run into each other sometime?"

"That would be nice and thank you for your help."

"No thanks necessary. Now bundle up, one hell of a storm is brewing."

"I will. Bye bye."

"Bye."

Her bag overloaded with office supplies tugs on her shoulder as she makes her way to exit. The double glass doors suck the air as they span open and whistle shut. Blake twists back around to his monitor and thinks I hope she doesn't get caught by security.