Forgotten Pride

Greenskin: Chapter two

Chapter two: Another Target

The night is over. Ken went through his own little tunnel of dread…and made it out to the other side. He opens his eyes slowly, watching the dazzling light of the day peeking through the slits the curtains have not obscured. He looks to his right, a smile lifting the corners of his lips as he sees Sarah, a warm expression on her face.

“Morning,” she starts.

“Morning,” he retorts, his grin stretching even further across his face.

“You came home late. How was work?” she examines.

“I…uh…we sort of have…a guest,” he explains.

“Wait…what?”

“His parents died last night. The whole team says he’s probably the murderer…but he’s only ten. I can see he isn’t faking it. He’s really in shock. He keeps mumbling something about ‘green skin’.”

“Why here? With us?” she responds.

“If not here…they would have kept him in the prison.”

Sarah averts her gaze to the floor, drowning in her thoughts. Ken quickly gets out of his bed and stretches his limbs doing so. Rubbing his eyes, he walks over to their closet and opens the door. He has soon taken out all his daily necessities, including his Para9 and his badge, still yawning a great deal, his thoughts centred on his job.

As the sorrowful man jolts down the stairs, he is surprised by his 6-year old son, Mike. As usual, he pretends to shriek, making his son laugh uncontrollably. Ken scoops the little boy up into his arms, throwing him over his shoulder.

He jots over to the nearby living room, planning his next strategy carefully, his child still giggling hysterically.

“I wonder what I should do with you,” he murmurs. “Have you been good all year?”

“Uh-huh!” nods his child.

“Are you sure?” he teases. Again, Mike nods.

“That’s too bad, I wish I could be better than you,” Ken jokes, throwing his son onto the couch and blowing into his tummy. Again, his child hoots boundlessly. It is as though it is impossible to wipe the child’s joyful grin off of his face.

“Hey…you want some pancakes?” Ken questions.

“Yep!” his child declares excitedly. “Please!”

Enjoying the treats with his son, Mike notices a usually unfamiliar figure treading into the warm kitchen.

“Hey, Nate,” he starts. “How’re you doing?” At this, Nate only smiles lightly, trying to steal a few pancakes unnoticed. Mike suddenly hides behind his father, using him as a human shield at the sight of this new stranger.

“Take as much as you want,” he recommends. “There’s plenty.”

At this, Nate grabs the entire plate and runs off with it.

“Daddy,” Mike starts, “he didn’t leave one for mommy.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make another batch,” he explains, getting up from his stool.

He comes in to work late and is met with plausibly disappointed Grady. He looks at his active watch and shamelessly decides to gives a reasonably believable explanation. Better yet, it’s the truth.

“I’m sorry, Grady. I got home late last night. I didn’t even get to spend time with the wife and kids, not even tell them about—” Ken is briefly interrupted by an urgent message.

“Look, Ken. We have reports of violence downtown. I need you to get over there. Immediately.”

“Any eyes on the suspect?” Ken returns suspiciously.

“No, the crimes are said to have taken place last night,” Grady explains.

“Crimes? Plural?” Ken queries.

“We’ve got two reported life sentences. Maybe more. Officers are still exploring the crime scene.”

“Why do you want me to go down there? You’re one of our best officers. You may be able to track down some further critical data.”

“I guess you’re enquiring that this was the work of the same killer? Why did it take you so long to finally uncover the crime scene? Weren’t any of our guys on duty? You don’t just miss something like this. There was a full moon in the sky last night. Someone should have noticed, right?”

“That’s exactly what we’re afraid of the most. If not for the gruesome crime scene.”

Ken’s wildly animated gaze isn’t retorted by his fearsome partner in law. Instead, he manages to keep a serious, straight face. All the aspects of self-control and high self-esteem are captured in the mature man’s eyes. And mature he is, both physically and mentally. He turns his back to Ken, places his hands in his pockets and leaves the area, his way of signalling for Ken to leave and be on his way.

Ken stares at the distorted figures in front of him disappointed and a little disturbed. He looks to the ground and rubs his neck using his cold, shaking hands, almost unable to look at the crushed forms. Many the bodies’ body parts are missing and scattered all over the fresh sunny park. They are mostly drained of all blood. It is not difficult to realize where their blood went, since the water of the lake in the middle of the park has been turned red. How the blood got there, however, remains wildly anonymous. It isn’t a challenge to label the criminal mastermind behind this treacherous deed. Though his handiwork is obvious, his identity remains unknown and the same can be said for his end goals.

His eyes daze to and fro, exploring the distinguishable environment that interacts with him, instead of him interacting with it. He quickly checks his watch to see what time it is. He realizes he still has time to investigate and explore the time scene before writing the ambiguous report and exiting this sunny playground for children. He notices some of the men retrieving limbs and organs to insert into the body bags. He can hear the chirping of the countless reporters trying to get in close for this massively successful run. Whether it’s on TV, in the paper or if it’s just been posted on the internet, thousands of people will be absolutely eager to this top-notch story of a life-time.

Ken carefully steps over to his car, trying desperately not to arouse the media’s suspicions. Unfortunately for him, his trying to elude their presence is but a failed attempt. One bright, red-headed young man is able to stick his mike into Ken’s face first, giving him the glorious opportunity to ask the first unsettling question: “Sir, can you give us any information on this so-called Greenskin?”

“That your name for him now?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I’m sorry, but the whereabouts of this killer are unknown. All the info we have so far is that is a mass-murderer with a certain remarkably anticipating code of conduct. All that I can certainly hope to assure you of is that we will find him and take him down. Some day. No matter how long it takes. No matter where this brings us. We’re coming for you…’Greenskin’,” he finishes, turning around to head to his car and leave once and for all. As moves along, he can hear the loud buzz of the reporters behind him yelling out important questions with unidentified answers. He may have been able realize what they were saying if they’d just ask questions one at a time, but they are constantly and repetitively chirping at exactly the same time.

     Mike and Sarah cautiously watch Ken speaking to the reporter live on national television. “Mommy,” Mike points out, “Daddy’s on T—.” His mother quietens him before he dares breathe another word, wanting to listen in on the conversation between the reporter and her husband. She can see the look on Ken’s face and immediately knows something is off. What she doesn’t know, however, is that Nate is also watching the news, peaking from behind the dining room wall.

“Huh,” he mutters. “Greenskin.”