Volume X: The Industry of Chemical Artistry - or - The Age of Rockism

7. Building a Legacy

It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity to be part of something bigger than yourself - something with longevity. The new project also took my mind off of the murder of my parents, and any concerns about my own safety. Every so often I was concerned, but Irish kept kids following me without telling me. I had lost track of Deacon in the fray of getting the business going. There was a major scene at the bar though, huge fight. Wes and Mason beat the hell out of Dusk. Then Lucius beat the hell out of Brie. It was a whole mess of trouble. I heard about this from second and third parties as things fell apart. I urged Shirley and Moe to get the place going faster. This neighborhood needed a change, and fast. All the legal paperwork had been fast-tracked, thanks to acquaintances of my parents. It was all set.

“What do we call it?” Shirley’s tone was that of a child, her eyebrow raised. Snow has started to fall as the holiday season approached. Halloween snuck past without a blink. The place was finished, furnished, the staff hired and ready to open. Moe stood next to her, an arm around her tight. They’d both quit smoking. Her - for the baby. Him - for her. It was very touching. I smiled every time I looked at them.

“Fatali.”

“What does that mean?” Moe’s voice was soft, almost a purr. I smiled wider.

“It’s Latin. It means ‘deadly’. Suitable?”

They smiled back, nodding slowly. “Fatali it is. To the rest of us, it’s still the Dragon.”

And it was settled. The place was completely supplied - a living, breathing operation. As we were standing there two police officers appeared out of nowhere, walking over to us slowly.

“Mr. Dorrance?” The male started. I nodded.

“Officer...Morrow. And Officer...Morrow?” My brow furrowed with confusion.

“We’re siblings.” The man gestured to the female officer at his side. “I’m Jerome if you’re confused. Anyways, we’re here to congratulate you on your business venture.”

“And...?” I continued.

“To ask you to come down to the station, to help us figure out your parents’ files. We can’t determine which patients were more hazardous. Their notes were very thorough, but very cryptic, perhaps you’d understand?”

I nodded back at them. I knew what they meant. My parents prepared for a situation like this. All their records were in a language that they understood, and I as well. They taught me just in case anything should happen to them. They liked to believe that people shouldn’t be treated any differently because of their mental condition. This was part of what got them killed. I bid my farewells to the two kids, who would get up and paint the new title on for me. I ducked into the squad car with the Morrow offspring, wondering what kind of upbringing that they had come from, leading them into the same line of work. Upon closer inspection, I was willing to bet that they were fraternal twins. The car ride was in silence.

We got to the station and made a line for one of the interrogation rooms in the back. The officers who brought me in stood on opposite sides of the door, waiting patiently, arms folded. After a few minutes had passed, Sergeant Bishop came in, sitting himself down across from me. The room was plain, as expected. I stared at the mirror found in all rooms of this type, wondering who would be watching this from the other side. I heard the sound of papers being dropped on the table in a pile, turning my head to see them being rifled through.

“These are some of your parents’ files. We’d like you to go through them and make a list of the patients that they considered high priority. And then list the other patients along with their status as well. Is that okay with you?”