Of the Twisted and the Lost

Chapter 32:

Long before the world showed him how cruelty was a natural part of the real world, Junjie used to believe in fairy tales. 

In tales where it began with "once upon a time" and ended with "the end" — the endings so happy and blissful, heaven-like and celestial. 

The ending always reminded him of cherry and honey mixed together, so sweet and compelling that it made Junjie's head spin. 

But of course, most of us know that fairy tales aren't real. It's just a written thing, a wishful thinking, a desire for a perfect ending. 

And Sera? She's just another sign that tells Junjie fairy tales aren't real. It's the iciness of reality that dominates over happy endings. 

* * * * 

Junjie strides onto the side of the road, his dark curls flopping into his eyes. His walk is purposeful and deliberate, calculating, and powerful. 

He can tell from the way everyone is avoiding him, how they give him a wide berth, how their heads gravitate to a respectful nod. 

One person's demeanor can show a million stories, and Junjie uses that as his advantage. He needs to get there, fast. 

Junjie releases an impatient sigh, as he saunters towards a taxi. 

Walking is obviously going to get him nowhere. 

Car is faster, he thinks, as he waves his hand, waiting for the yellow cab to arrive. 

It does, pulling over. 

"Hello," the taxi driver says. 

Junjie immediately discerns about six things about the driver: 1) the man has two children, all graduated most likely, based on the blurriness of the picture hanging on the side 2) he has had an unhappy marriage, going off of how the ring on his finger is regularly removed 3) he has a regular smoking habit, his fingers always twitching like he wants to release ash 4) the smoking is most likely the reason his wife despises him 5) he has a pet dog, a small one, most likely a laborer retriever, the length of the golden fur telling a whole lot of stories 6) he's around fifty years old, though the wrinkles in his forehead certainly tell a different story. 

"Hello," replies Junjie, as he hops into the cab. "Tenby Lane, please. 4142 Tenby Lane." 

The taxi driver nods and then they're off, the skyscrapers and buildings turning into blurs of color and nothing more. 

In the cab, it's silent. 

The driver doesn't try to engage in conversation, for which Junjie is eternally grateful. He doesn't actually do small talk and only talks when there's something actually worth explaining. 

Junjie pulls out his phone, basking in the soft glow the technology casts, before sending Inspector Seth a single text: is ms. rose settled yet? 

Seth: Yes. I've managed everything. Arrested Marie and avenged Ms. Rose. 

Junjie: ah, yes. you would be one to use the word "avenge" though i certainly do find it a little unbecoming. anyone who peeks into your phone would find you slightly unusual and not right in the head. 

Seth: Well I am weird, just saying. 

Junjie: and one wonders how you became an inspector. Now do tell, is there any recent news i should be aware of? 

Seth: Uh, I don't think so. But maybe you should check one more time because the last time I went was a week ago. 

Junjie's heart sinks, though he writes: alright. see you soon. 

He stuffs his phone into the right pocket of his coat, his fingers drumming impatiently against his thighs. 

About six minutes until I reach 4142 Tenby Lane, Junjie thinks, gazing at his reflection in the mirror. God, that's so long. 

His dark brown curls softly graze his forehead and his blue eyes are as sharp and vigilant as always. The only thing wrong with the picture is, if you looked closely, the dark circles under Junjie's eyes. 

Nightmares are the only thing that can bring sleepless nights. Junjie exhales, blowing a curl out of his eye. 

I swear to God, he thinks. If those idiots have made no new progress, I will have to resort to violence. 

If Junjie does go into violence — which there's a probability of a forty percent chance — he would most likely. . . 

I would first take out the man in the door, punching his face, which would not only cause a diversion, it will cause pain. Everyone's probably going to come rushing at me but by then, I'll already be at the door, taking the man's knife — yes, he carries a knife, for security reasons, which sounds a bit absurd to me. No, I will not throw the knife at anyone because there is no need unless someone fires a gun in my direction. In that case (because guns have a sixty percent chance of being fired when security sees someone with a sharp knife) I will have to direct my aim perfectly at a ninety-degree angle, smacking the gun to the floor. Obviously they will recognize me as the famous Junjie Williams who solves crimes and murders (and they'll also assume the worse, that my brains have somehow got fried by whatever adventure I had gone on before) and they'll report me to the police. 

Since Inspector Seth is one of my only friends, he'll definitely try and plead my case. Though ultimately, if he fails (which he possibly will, though that's a fifty-fifty chance, based on if he's got his coffee this morning) then I'll have to resort to my other weapon: my brother, Zhiwei. 

He'll hack into the whole network, causing a glitch so there isn't a bounty on my head. Then (ta-da!) I'll be free to go into the real world and possibly cause more havoc in another town. 

"Excuse me?" The driver taps the side of the window, and Junjie blinks, disoriented by the sudden change in scenery. "We've arrived at your destination, sir." 

"Thank you very much," Junjie says, as he hands the driver the money. 

Then he pauses, staring up at the huge white building. 

"Well, here goes nothing," he murmurs, before knocking on the door.