Angelos Odyssey

by J. B. M. Patrick

  —But I reached out and caught you.

  I grabbed your left elbow and slammed you against my side before aiming down the sights of my revolver at the newcomers to our right. They tried to drive ahead, but I readjusted my aim so that the ensuing round would move a few meters ahead and was timed just right. I buried a bullet into the driver's shoulder.

  I heard a scream as the enemy clutched his injury and lurched the vehicle downward—and then I flinched as you recovered and fired out a shot of your own that struck the man again. Almost as abruptly, we watched as the passenger opened the driver's side door and pushed the wounded shooter to his death before recovering his weapon and correcting the trajectory of the cruiser. From behind, the mobsters we'd slowed down previously were making their way back into position to fire once more. Up ahead, both Kip and Clyde were preparing to deliver their own rain of metal.

  It was at this point that I realized we might be fucked.

  “We’re fucked!” You shouted.

  The engine of our cruiser began failing as we both ducked to avoid the rounds fired at us. As shrapnel rang out above me, a ringing deafened my hearing, and I said to you—probably more loudly than I needed to: “When I tap your wrist, we both start shooting!!! Got it?! Aim good!!”

  “Yeah!” you responded earnestly, “Let's hurry!”

  I felt three more pieces of hot metal fall across my neck, and then I tapped her wrist…

  Within moments, we both sat up and began firing outside of our respective sides with as much accuracy as we could hope to achieve!

  The first two rounds from my revolver missed completely, but I managed to lodge the third between the eyes of the left cruiser's passenger. The masked man’s head slumped out of the window as his weapon flew from the vehicle. On the right side of us, the enemy driver had been hit and decided to back out of the chase altogether by slowing down and allowing his vehicle to come to a halt on the hyper rail. After the masked shooter to my left was thrown from his seat by his partner, I immediately saw an opportunity. Kip and Oliviet finished reloading and were readying their weapons once again, and our cruiser was finally shutting down as intense smoke emitted from the hood; the controls completely went on lock down. I looked over to see you staring back with an eerily calm expression. Your mouth barely moved to as you spoke: “This is it.”

  But you hadn't been paying any attention.

  The cruiser on the left still had its passenger door wide open. Now was my chance.

  I unlatched my side door and hovered closer to the driver. Then, channeling my strength into my thighs so to the extent that they expanded, showcasing dense muscular tissue and an immense web of veins, I wrapped my right arm around your waist and jumped forward to grasp onto the roof of the enemy's cruiser and used it as leverage to swing my body into its interior and launched my lower half into the mobster!

  The force was tremendous enough to push him through the side of the cruiser, and he smashed into the window of an abandoned factory. You were able to land with your head on the driver's seat and your body across most of the front, but there I was hanging on the very edge of the floor board trying to pull myself back to sit in front of the wheel.

  Before I could, you turned the wheel to the right just in time for us to avoid crashing into an old tower. My torso flew upward before swinging back down, and then I was able to stabilize—at which point you extended your only working hand for me to grab onto and recover. Once I was back in the driver's seat, I saw that we'd suddenly moved far ahead of our original targets.

  They'd slowed to a stop on a lower set of streets and seemed to be preparing to escape on foot; I revved the engine of our newly-owned cruiser—which reeked of cologne and weed—and turned around rapidly.

  “Thanks.” I said without skipping a beat.

  By now, you were breathing pretty hard and barely managed to get out, “Y-you're welcome. I just want to know how the hell you just did that—t-that was gross!”

  “No time to explain.”

  I changed gears and brought the cruiser to hover behind the two gunmen and peered to see that the driver's side door was already wide open. Without waiting for you, I dashed up and, noticing a trail of blood, realized that Oliviet had started making his way down the plaza next to us. Kip's head rested on the dashboard. I reached inside the interior of the cruiser to check his pulse.

  Kip had finally succumbed to his wounds after fighting for so long to escape, which meant there was only one target left to go. I looked over as you were just stumbling out to see what was going on for yourself and stated: “His buddy's dead, but he's probably still close. This area's dangerous, so let me—”

  “No! Absolutely not! I already know what you're gonna say, and I'm coming with you—this is my mission! I don't know who the hell you are, and I don’t care if you can go around makin’ your legs all big and gross, but I'm not letting down the Bureau on my first big tasking! You got me all the way fucked up, boy.”

  “Tch,” I shrugged, “all right… just know I warned you. He fled here for a reason, so watch your back.”

  I began to look over the trail of drying crimson but then turned to say something else: “Oh, you did me a good turn back there by the way… name's Tavon.”

  That's the first time we ever made genuine eye contact after I’d killed that shooter…

  You gazed at me for a while as you appeared to relax inwardly despite your wounds—or maybe it was looking at me that calmed you, I don't know. What I do know is that: I saw something in you I hadn't seen in anyone else for a very long time, and it was that something that made me stop to think about to whom I was really speaking. You turned your glance away and smirked.

  “Yeah, whatever. Detective Aaliyah—let's hurry up and get this guy in handcuffs…”

  We followed the blood trail left behind between two oak trees separated by a narrow margin of grass enclosed by a series of small, polished stones and beyond onto an old sidewalk that was cracked and tarnished by the passing of time. Another splotch of scarlet along the path brought us before a small, medieval well before continuing onto several meters of ground padded and filled with synthetic soil. We continued to move down a road that winded between a series of plain, wooden huts. One of the huts toward the end of the road was inhabited by civilians who finished cooking a dinner outside over a fire pit while looking on curiously.

  We crossed a street ahead before progressing to see a large field adorned with individual gardens overgrown with weeds and a stone bridge rounded over a dark blue creek complete with families of Koi fish inhabiting its confines. Past the creek and through a valley, there lay a dirt pathway leading into a more industrial environment.

  Earth transitioned to concrete, brick, and steel as the two of us ventured onto a street, and you shouted: “There!”

  —In the far distance, the shadow of a person rested his hand against the side of a building; their body heaved up and down in an effort to recover from the prior chase. You continued: “That's gotta be him!”

  Oliviet had traveled quite a distance for someone who'd taken a bullet.

  We started to walk faster and held our handguns to the side as we approached as swiftly and as stealthily as possible. However, Clyde caught sight of us and at first reacted by tripping and falling on his knees. He then struggled to get to his feet and began running in an attempt to disappear down a corridor formed by a sequence of numerous brick establishments. Even though we'd pinned down his location and taken away his security, Clyde was defiant until the end. A decent challenge if a bit of a pain in the ass.

  Thus, the two of us decided to split; I took the left side, naturally, while you covered the right alley in order to flank him.

  I dashed ahead, sensing his presence close long before you were able to, and I was upon him within a few moments. If she caught up to him before I did, I wouldn't have been able to complete the contract without killing both of them. Aaliyah wouldn't let me slay a man in cold blood if she could help it.

&n
bsp; Oliviet tripped again and cursed loudly as he hit the ground. He then took cover against a wall far from and adjacent to me; he'd assumed that we'd come down the center alley and thought he could just turn and take us both out in one shot.

  He heard a noise, but before he could react—

  I was there.

  His head turned ever so slightly to make eye contact with me. “Hello.” I said.

  Clyde screamed and raised his weapon, which I promptly kicked out of his shaky grasp before firing a round between his eyes. His body slid against the wall before me, and I relaxed after taking a deep breath and exhaling while staring at the ground, feeling somber.

  Not long after, I could hear your footsteps following the sound of the gunshot.

  “A… Allaha!” I shouted. “I got him!”

  “It's Aaliyah, ass!” Your voice grew louder as you approached and finally emerged at the end of the alley opposite me. You put your pistol away in its holster and walked up as it started to rain. “And you weren't supposed to kill him, idiot. I needed to bring him in for a confession—I needed him alive!”

  I threw my hands up in defeat. “Damn, girl; he practically brought everything to you on a platter! I feel like you're trying to ask for too much…”

  And like that, you came up and shoved me and maintained the pissiest look. “My job isn't to kill people, asshole! Is that what you think I do?!”

  You were so furious…

  “I don't know what you do—and I don't care, Aali! You chose to come with me in the first place!”

  “It's AALIYAH!” You shoved me again, charming as ever.

  “Listen.” I said exasperated. “Just call your people and have them come clean up this mess.” While I was speaking, your eyes became wide. “They should understand, right?”

  You remained frozen in place and kept looking through me for some reason.

  “Hey,” I put my hand on your shoulder, “are you all right?”

  I remember you drew your weapon and got into position to fire but kept shaking and remained in place while sweat suddenly drenched your forehead.

  I felt something with incredible force pierce me in the back and consequently forced me to the ground in an instant! I rapidly stopped my head from striking the solid surface with one hand and pivoted to see who—or what—had suddenly hit me…

  It was a kid.

  A boy, could've been eight or nine, standing several feet in front of me and holding a glock. His expression evoked an overwhelming sense of duty; he was resolute in what he'd intended to do. And then there was you: a statue stuck in the confines of time itself.

  You couldn't do anything, and it was almost as if you'd become a child again and forgotten why you were even there. The gun dropped from your hands, and you stood there in terror. How could anyone expect you to gun down a kid? No. I’m the assassin.

  I pushed myself onto a knee and anchored my heels to fire a round that soared clean into his chest.

  From my point of view, I watched as the boy dropped the glock and reached for the center of his torso as if he was attempting to hold his own heart in his hands. The kid fell to his knees as an onslaught of tears rolled forth from his eyes.

  He looked up at me and compelled us to watch as his will to live steadily escaped his body. The young soldier tried to whimper but choked as blood caught in his throat and poured from his mouth. Forgetting about what had happened previously, I saw you scream “No!” in desperation and sprint toward him with open arms. He went for the small Swiss Army Knife attached to his belt at first but then lost control of his hands and merely fell lifelessly into your embrace. You'd started weeping already and repeating “No” over and over again.

  I moved closer to see you cradle the boy in your arms and hug him tightly before closing his eyes and letting his head collapse to rest on his chest.

  I placed my hand on your shoulder—which tensed but quickly relaxed when you looked up at me with glassy eyes. I got down, slightly flinching from the pain, and hugged you and the boy. You moved us back toward the wall to rest and so you could utilize the cover from the incoming rain.

  “I'm sorry.” I said before taking off my coat and wrapping it around you. At the time, I didn't realize that I'd written my number on the tag of it.

  -

  Janelle

  -

  “I remember we slept there.” Aaliyah appeared solemn.

  She'd finished her tea and began to play with her hair. “When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed, and one of my friends, Zola from work, was sitting in a chair watching over me. She perked up when we made eye contact and ran out of the room to grab one of the nurses.”

  “I bet they thought you were a hero, right? Going through all that shit?” Tavon smiled.

  “It's not that simple, but for my first job I'd definitely made an impression.” Aaliyah rolled her eyes. “That case shook up the whole department: Lieutenant Shraeu's transfer was put on halt, Kaust HAD to be promoted, and I probably went through a dozen meetings with somebody way more important than me who wanted to know the whole story. Now I meet with a therapist twice a week.”

  “Definitely affected you then.”

  “I mean… just think about it, Tavon.” She gave him a meaningful look. “We changed the lives of a lot of people only because we were at the right place at the right time. We took down a small part of the crime scene in the Citadel, stopped a major player in his own territory, and made the other Dawn Bureau Agents look like a bunch of jackasses pushing around paperwork—”

  Tavon quickly interrupted her. “Hold up: what happened to the kid?”

  “What kid?”

  “The one who was framed for the whole thing?”

  Aaliyah looked away for a second and shrugged nonchalantly. “You know, he got shuffled through the system like everybody else. They're always quick to charge someone and get them in a cell, but let someone file an appeal or be found innocent later and they're stuck waiting for months so the government will process them back out into the real world and register them again as normal citizens. The boy's family reached out to the media about what had happened—and that sped the process a little bit—but still they didn't release him for another two months. Not long after that, the fool was back behind bars again.”

  “For what?!” He couldn't help but feel somewhat astounded.

  “Boy tried to rob the liquor store that confiscated his fake I.D.” Aaliyah chuckled. “It just goes to show how trifling people can be. He survived extreme charges and dove straight into his next misdemeanor. Most of those who go through the system the first time usually end up coming back over and over again. This shit works in a cycle…”

  “That's a shame.”

  “It really is…” Her face sharpened into a sobering look. “But now that we've gone over that… fond memory, Tavon, there's something else we need to talk about. Something I've been letting you ignore for a while now.”

  “Huh?”

  Aaliyah stood up from her seat and, with her hands resting at her sides, glared at Tavon with a sudden intensity.

  He looked at her curiously. “What's wrong?”

  “I've gotta admit that I'm ashamed of myself. All this time I've been so ignorant.” She scowled. “I let you play me and didn't even think to ask the right questions—and I'm a motherfucking detective!”

  Tavon rested back in his seat and folded his arms. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  She knows.

  “I'm talking about what you do to make a living.” Aaliyah continued. “At first, I thought you were just some low-level enforcer for a lame ass kingpin—that maybe you were a guy squandering his potential, someone who'd eventually trade in that shit for a real job. But I've been dead wrong about all of that,” Aaliyah sighed, “I'm such a fool…”

  “You’re not. Why do you say that?”

  “Because you have been living up to your potential, just in a way that would make the rest of society afraid. I know what you are, Tavon. It d
idn't cross my mind seriously until I looked back on that whole story, but now it's just so damn obvious that I feel like an idiot!”

  Tavon's face remained solemn.

  “And what am I? A great listener? A reckless driver… —Good in bed?”

  “You kill people,” she said, “for money.”

  11

  River Niger

  THOUGH EKWUEME'S STORY HAD BEEN DELIVERED through and through, the world was learning about some parts of it for the very first time.

  There lay his corpse in the streets of Zone D, broken, bloodied, and in the public eye as a local beat cop made the discovery and stopped his routine patrol to force back crowds of people which had progressively amassed around the fallen drug lord. L stood in that crowd, still reeling from the loss of his leader, Magellan.

  Not long after Ekwueme’s fall, Magellan had been taken into custody following an investigation into Isaac Reaver and his son's unexpected and mostly inexplicable assassination. To L, it was ironic that a homeless man or woman could die on the streets with thousands looking the other way, but let that overdose or starvation become a murder and their lives suddenly began to mean something.

  In the Citadel, extreme cases merited more attention, more popularity.

  Two more lower-ranking officers had arrived to begin closing off the area and parked their cruisers so as to block the center of the scene of the crime. For whatever reason, higher resources in the law enforcement department weren't readily available and thus all three officers were forced to endure and babysit alone waves of reporters who asked all sorts of unanswerable questions.

  Inquiries abounded, such as: “Officer Lorrie, can you remark on the recent surge in crime following this year's election results in Zone D?”

  “There is no information that can be given at this time.” Lorrie wasn't very good when it came to working with civilians, but he was mostly effective and fit his own role well.

  “Can you positively identify the victim?” One woman asked, somewhat anxiously. “Is it true that he was a… 'half-robot' thing? Some new tech perhaps?!” Her eyes lit up with a curiosity intense enough to irritate the officer.