Blue Monday

Interlude 1 - Wish I Knew How To Use That Hate-Fu

                 

The Bearville Police were having a devil of a time identifying the crazed man who had broken into the Balthazar-Castledown prom. He had no ID on him, and he was nowhere in the system - no fingerprints, no DNA, no DMV profile, nothing.

"Annoying, isn't it?" said one veteran detective to his new partner.

The partner sighed. "Guess we gotta do this the old-fashioned way."

They entered the interrogation room, immediately gasping as the heat hit full force. The AC had been shut off to try and get the gunman so nervous, he'd be more willing to talk.

But the two detectives never got a chance to talk to him, because as soon as they sat down, the lights went out as well, plunging the small, mirror-windowed interrogation room into total blackness.

"Hey, what's goin-" the younger detective began, only to get cut off with a loud choking noise. The older detective froze for a moment before feeling his way towards the door. He just managed to reach the doorknob when his arm was twisted behind his back. Grunting in pain, he tried to resist the unseen force, and got his arm broken for his trouble.

As the older man sank to the ground, gasping, he saw the faint outline of a figure opening the door and darting out. It couldn't have been the fat guy. Could it? He was too fast, even by angel standards.

As it turned out, though, it was - other detectives would later find the remnants of a fat suit, complete with ridiculously small wool sweater, strewn over the floor, forming a trail through the halls from the interrogation room to the waiting area. At the front door, there was even a greasy comb-over wig that looked suspiciously like the gunman's hair.

The former fat man, now all skin and sinew and bones, simply strolled out of the police station like he owned the place. He walked up the street about five blocks before finding his destination - an old full-size van from the 90s, black, the blinds drawn over all the windows. He knocked on the rear passenger door and got in when it was unlocked, pulling a spare T-shirt out of the box on the seat to his left.

"Is he on his way yet?" he asked the driver, smelling the shirt to make sure it was clean. He'd forgotten the last time he'd done any kind of laundry.

The driver, a small woman with a round face, shook her head. "Nope. He's spending the night with his date. Gotta stay in character, right?"

"Uh-huh, sure. We both know he's just there as a fly on the wall, disturbing as it is." The skinny man pulled his shirt on, then stretched his shiny black wings through the slits. "Those fat suits suck, by the way."

"You could've just asked Kyle to wear it, Russell," said the driver. "He'd make a much more convincing crazed fan."

"Bullshit, Annie. Besides, isn't he busy protecting his angel on tonight's date?" Russell slid into the front passenger seat. "So, was our mission a success, then?"

Annie turned to look at Russell. "Yeah. I think we found our Breakers. Great acting, by the way," she added.

"Oh, stop it," Russell said. "I was so over the top and you know it. Wish I could've seen you invite the Breakers on stage, though. Did you guys really do that?"

"Didn't even have to convince the others," Annie said. "I'm sure it's on YouTube by now." She pulled out her cell phone to look for it. "Yep, here it is. Enjoy."

Russell watched the video, laughing lightly. "Hah, social networks. Why aren't those more popular in our 'verse?"

"Who would you socialize with if you had an account on any of them?" Annie asked.

"That's the beauty of it," Russell said. "You can say you've got more friends than you really have."

"Can I have my phone back, please?" Annie asked, turning the key in the van's ignition. "We need to get back home."

Russell reluctantly shut the video off, returned Annie's phone, and sat back as she drove away.