A shattered mirror is screeching at the door-bell of my imagination. The shadow of a man leaves behind a rust-and-mold drooling window. Private screams of desperate expressions contort the body and face of the girl he locked in the dark cell, the room where a whole world burned at once, leaving the walls repainted with ashes to remind of lives put down by his cruel, unjust, but extremely poetic vengeance. He couldn't take it anymore. A whole life he had spent to train his soul for the greatest war against evil. And she? She forgot the species they were. She abandoned their mission and the family for an ideal of kindness that ruined their perfect world. She had to be brought to the senses of their truth! A whole night spent in darkness turned into that dull day when her screams, no longer heard, became a missed song to his ears. His only pleasure taken away.
3 a.m. sharp: this lies written on the screen in ghastly symbols standing for the meaning of space-time. Another office-day completing paper-work. "Three more weeks then I'll get on the field, 'killing the audience'! Yep. I always loved them with a love so complicated and sweet that produces pustules of caramel burn on their skins." As a bitter smile creeps out to make up my lips, I dress nicely and powerfully clean I feel for a day of play in the heroes yard. Nobody really cares about us. What we do is public enough for the world to remain ignorant at what we're actually dealing with. Our dark, hard to take secrets are safe.
The streets look normal, everything in place as if they hadn't been thrown into the air the night before. I follow my usual route to work. Cars to my left are speeding up to catch 'their' green. The lights turn red. A lime-green luxury car stops. A girl crosses the street, the ghost of a smile swipe on her lips. The driver uses the horn confidently. She blinks, a sad light flicker show then turns her eyes to a shop-lifter menaced with an apple throw. He almost bumps into her, she swings prompting her right knee in his stomach. He falls in the middle of the crossroad, a policeman there to pick him up. I pick her smile of proud confidence she picks my sight, we say hello.
-What's up? Another drop from heavens for you to serve well?
-Haha! she bounces. He was looking for redemption, otherwise I don't understand why he almost jumped to meet my knee. I chuckle, she grins, the shining pride of her menacing white teeth alerting my bowels.
-Did you get your cup of coffee? I inquire.
-Nay! But I did get this apple! she says picking up the mighty fruit rolling to her feet. The sales man waves, a thankful smile: "please, keep the apple". Her eyebrows lift, a thin acknowledging smile. It aggravates my muddy greyness taken from these grounds where the fight for justice is rather an obsession than reality. To her, everything comes natural. She does justice even easier than I take a piss or have my morn coffee.
-News on Clayton-case? I ask to escape the uneasy feel wrapping around my head like a plastic foil suffocating me in the name of love.
-It closed. The dry response puffs my curiosity away.
-Here we are! the voice of this young woman transferred from her podiums to Hell's division, shatters the stained glass of my pulsating recall. I wake-up from my reverie to realise we're in front of 'Shrek's', the only coffee-shop that I found good to serve me the decent morn coffee I needed checking my pulse in my desperate routine. I wanted to be a hero, didn't I? Well, here I am! Out of his swamp, 'Shrek's' also serving the cause! We're goddamn cursed, both of us! 'Shrek' s' got their line of troubles to take care of, I got mine, and in between the hours of wake to sleepwalk to our next awakening, there's this madness-time spent at the nod of our different paths' meet. I walk in, she follows, taking savoury bites of her apple.
-Hello, Miss. Sorel! What would you like for today? 'Same as usual?
-A moccha with latte and chocolate chips, please. His mouth relaxed: Excellent! he smiles, quickly moving around as he skilfully prepares the coffee. And for the Miss? his voice kindly addresses my companion
-I'm good, thank you! A man just enters the shop, two boys laugh at a joke. A lady drops her tray. My coffee is ready.
-Thank you! I say with a forced smile finding correspondence on the boy's visage.
-You really have a thing for this place! my colleague observes.
-It's just in the way to work and they have very good coffee, that's all, I defend. Her lofty smile annoys me. I have to wake up from the creat-vest of my break where I so comfortably snuggled! In a couple of minutes I'll be there, into the problem, swimming in the muddy waters of paradise drainage, looking for those criminals hiding away from us. The frown on my forehead must have got intense as the world around me left space for me and my thundering dark cloud to pass.
The door to our headquarters opens wide, receiving us with the greatest pleasure-take in desert swallow. As we start our rhythmic heels and talons tap show, the walls keeping secrets much for themselves, our paths gloom and lit with each sweep of sun-ray or screen check.
We climb the steps to our floor. The two elevators are overloaded. The girl in my horror-dream last night wasn't ready for her damnation. 'Same for the girl I'm trying to avenge now. Found in her fresh rental, the college sophomore was strangled after being shot by an amateur sniper. They must have realised the shot was bad and entered her apartment later to finish his job. The girl was not part of the highly rich class, she wasn't involved in any amorous relationship, no records of boyfriends deeply hurt or heart-ripping jealous girlfriends. No betrayed housewives to send a sniper to the girl's chest either. She didn't do any drugs, never even got school detention. Perhaps one of her explorations got her into unexpected trouble. "Okay, the first thing I'll do..." the door of my office shut loudly.
-Charta Sorel! a shrilling voice's drilling my brain. "Damn it!"
-Mrs. Dellaware!!! What a pleasure, I try my charming tossed smile with resounding insuccess. The severity on her countenance adorned with a flickering lights-show pouring out her eyes tells of her personal misfortune in becoming that hero she had hopes of high to meet.
-Have a seat, Mrs. Dellaware, please! I feel we have to discuss matters of high importance.
-There's nothing to discuss, dear. We already investigated, pondered the facts, realities; we trailed on your results so far, me and the commission."
-Trailed on my results? What does that mean?
-You're taken away the case, Sorel! Deal with it! her short thin eyebrows lifted, making me want to scalp the woman. I must have paled greatly, to the point where the show of my colourless mask meant nothing but a crude avowing of that truth we were all forced to accept when recruited. "Don't get personally involved into any case!"
-I can see you realised why, dear! My tuned glance must have betrayed my thoughts.
-Who's taking it?
My jaw loses connections with the pride of my bossy brain in a split of a second. My lips, still making stern love, the brain keeping the sorries sour look safely deposited in the box of a parody of failures allowing me to restrain my jaw from hanging loose. Brain exploring seisure, I take a few gasps, my mouth closed. "Good! No spy flies to swallow by any chance."
-Miss. Thristal Flime will take the case.
-Of course, I smile with choked unease at the two pair of eyes under which the most threatening white teeth show their pride.
It's noon and all I've been doing today was send files and clear my desks. After lunch I'll be informed upon the new case assigned. I have no appetite so I decide to take a long walk. I reach for the keys to the office and throw them with my phone in the pocket of the jacket.
-Hey there! Thristal throws in a smiling glance. Care for some company?
-Not really, no.
-Oh! Come on! I hope you're not mad at me getting the case.
-God, no! It's not that. I mean, yes, I am tad disappointed and somehow upset but..., umm, they were right. I lie. They didn't wait for any results on this case, they simply took old records of my past similar cases and used those against me. Why? Oh, well... I shouldn't, but Miss Flime, here, needs to be pushed up a little, taken to the front pages of this journal. Her young spirit, fresh attitude is what is needed around here for the image of the headquarters to be revived. I was once a fresh and charming, full of life 'thing' to be exposed. I thrilled, solved cases of the impossible, saved a couple of lives and made mistakes that cost me more than I had ever imagined, but I came out alive. The last mistake put me in hospital. I was ready to trade my life for one of the labelled as 'victim' girls. This brought up the nicest record and a line of media celebs' at the door of my hospital room. It was when I actually started detesting them as much as I detested myself for failing. That's that. Time to admit! We detest each other for doing our work properly. Our worlds are colliding. I want to catch and detain the enemy, they tend to inform and endanger our missions. So, I shone for the last time there, on the hospital bed when, in front of the camera, I yelled at a brave reporter and his cam-man. Those days are gone. There's a new star in town and we have to help her shine. I had my times... It's her turn.