Overgrown Bloodline

Prologue: The Machine

Rain poured profusely throughout the Manhattan roads. Multiple lanes of traffic were above one another, being a functioning umbrella for the lanes below. It was the middle of the day, but if you had no sense of time, it was hard to tell because of the dim gray sky. A hooded figure walked on the sidewalk with hands in their pockets. It was a young man named Jordan. He wore a black jacket with a hood. His facial features were completely hidden.

Jordan struggled with his thoughts. His parents had finally lost their grasp of him. He was entitled to himself, only planed for himself, and had no one else to look out for, but he was ok with that. It was something he took in stride. No amount of love or happiness could change his cold heart.

A bell rang when he opened the door to the shop nearby, Fortune of the Future. Jordan scanned the room very carefully seeing if anyone was around.

"Hey, Jordan," an old man said with a quiet voice, "Need anything...?"

His voice reflected the self-security in his words which he chose very carefully. Jordan was an intimidating person because nobody knew his next move. He was already unpredictable and this day proved it even further.

Jordan remained quiet but instead reached deeper into his sweater pockets. He pulled a gun, primed it, and quickly pointed the barrel over the desk at the man.

"It's loaded for real," he said quickly, "If I were you, I'd finally open your mouth..."

The old man began to shake.

"Where's the m..."

The door flew open and the bell chimed.

Jordan quickly dropped the gun near his waist still pointed at the man, trying his best to conceal it.

"Hey man," the customer spoke from across the store, "Do you have a bathroom?"

The old man froze. Jordan pointed his gun with a firmer grip.

"Are you going to answer his question...?" he asked.

"Oh yes, yes," he responded with incredible stammering, "right in the back."

The man walked past them as Jordan hugged the gun with his hip. The closed-door echoed throughout the store.

Almost instantly, he put his sidearm back into position.

"The machine," he said at a lower voice now, "Where is it?"

"I don't know what you're..."

Jordan shoved the barrel of the gun into the man's forehead.

"You know what I'm talking about! Stop fucking around!"

The old man's shakes became slower and his eyebrows pressed down hard. His eyes stabbed into Jordan's.

"What happened to you?!" He screeched, "what happened to the little Jordan? Why did you turn into this...?"

Jordan swiped him quickly with the metallic barrel, he fell back onto the floor behind the desk and his forehead started to bleed.

"What happened?!" The customer returned quickly, but Jordan had already hidden his sidearm at his hip again.

"He fell," Jordan responded.

"Let me help you up," the customer said.

Silence hummed loudly as they both watch the customer come behind the desk. Jordan didn't know if the old man was going to call for help and the man didn't know if Jordan was capable of killing.

"There ya go," the customer said helping him up, "Better..?"

Jordan and the old man locked eyes.

"Yes, that's better," the old man said.

The customer took notice of the wound on his forehead.

"Oh god," he screeched, "We should get you to a hospital...!"

"No, no, it's fine I..."

The customer started to drag the old man to the door. Jordan's head throbbed, but he was used to this pain by now. He knew how to get closer to what he was looking for. Jordan's bullet sliced through the customer's skull and hit a snowglobe on it's way to the wall. The blood spray was accompanied by stains of sparkly water and broken glass. The customer's body slapped onto the floor and the blood continued to run through the cracks of the tile.

"Jordan," the man squealed, "what have you become? Your father wouldn't have wanted this..."

"Tell me," Jordan said aiming the gun back at him, "NOW!"

An image of the old man dead on the floor flashed in Jordan's head, he wouldn't be able to reach his goal if he didn't hear him out.

"Okay...okay..." The man said, slowly losing consciousness. "I keep the location in the back of the register..."

Almost instantly, he went through the register and checked deep within it and found a tiny post-it note.

"Sanders...huh?" he said slowly reading over the address.

He walked over to the old man.

"Sorry, Grandpa..."

"Jordan you're a criminal! You won't get very far!"

He smirked.

"Oh I will," he hummed, "but it's not like you would understand anyway..."

Realizing he had what he needed, he shot the old man without hesitation.