by Jack Parker
"CARMON!" she screamed, her hands cupped around her mouth to add extra volume.
Carmon stopped and turned around, searching for the owner of the voice that had just called him.
"CARMON, GET HERE!"
Carmon smirked as he spotted her. Emilie stopped laughing and instead fixed her with a menacing glare.
Bitch.
He waded through the thick crowd of people. Lia turned around and once again opened the door to the small room. Carmon would follow. Anyway, they could not exactly get any work done with so many people around.
"What is it now, Lia?" he sighed, as they entered the room. He looked around and spotted Lacey. "Heya, Lace."
"Hi, Carmon," she replied, her hand resting over the mouse as she clicked "print."
Lia pushed the folder under his nose, kicking the door shut behind him. "Mike gave us this. It's the next mission. Work it out. I'm far too lazy."
Carmon took the folder and slumped down onto a chair beside Lacey. He opened the folder and scanned the first page. His mouth opened to say something, but he was cut off as the door was suddenly flung open and Jude entered, carrying two paper bags.
Lia let out a girlish shriek and ran up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She pulled one of the bags from his grasp. "You remembered!" she squealed. "I am so hungry."
Jude smirked lightly and sat down on a chair beside Carmon. Carmon snatched the bag off of him and opened it ravenously.
"You are going to join us, Lace?" he asked, the bag dangling from his hands.
Lacey shrugged. "Yeah, sure, why not."
Carmon placed the folder on the desk as Lacey pulled out a small fold up table. They all leaned back and began to eat, all thoughts of the morning discarded from their minds for the time being as the folder lay on the desk, forgotten.
Lia sighed inwardly. It was only midday and she felt like the whole day had passed. So many things could happen in such a short space of time and yet the whole day lay before her.
It was times like these that she hated her job.
* * *
The ticking of a clock filtered through the silence, a pendulum swinging lightly on the side of the dimly lit room which was based on a dull, blue light. Thick shutters enshrouded the large window, the only light a few wisps of white seeping from beneath its surface.
A sigh echoed through the room as two legs perched upon the surface of the polished mahogany table, its base cluttered with piles of untouched papers.
Resting in the dimness, black and white in hand
Titles, words flitting through heads, words don't make a sound
The figure leaned back into his chair, his eyes skimming over the broad sheet resting in his hands, a frown quirking on the edge of his mouth. 'Cadlians fight in Local Park; two injured.' Why did they always have to stress the "Cadlian" part? Why couldn't it just be "Fight in local park; two injured"? That's what the headline would have been if it was an Elonsican. Anyway, he had been one of the people sent to sort out the fight and it had been as much the Elonsican's fault as the Cadlian's, only the Elonsican had gotten more severely injured. There were always two sides to a story.
No sense, don't get the defence
Two sides to a coin
The bullet only fires if someone pulls the trigger
The seventeen year old sighed once again and tossed the article onto his desk, causing a bunch of papers to flutter into the air. He groaned and slid his legs off of the table, furiously gathering up all of the papers. Honestly, Sebastian must have thought he was some sort of robot considering the amount of work he loaded him with.
There was a knock at the door.
"Come in," he said.
A petite blonde stood in the doorframe, a folder clasped in her arms.
"Harlton, where are you?" she asked.
The teen smirked and ascended from his crouching position beneath the desk. The blonde fixed him with a quizzical look.
"Dropped some papers," he supplied.
She rolled her eyes and smirked. "The boss wants you."
"Now?"
"Obviously. Otherwise, he wouldn't have sent me now. Now come on, you know the boss doesn't like to be kept waiting."
Harlton nodded and followed her out of his office.
"Why do you reckon he wants me?" he asked as they made their way through the wide corridor.
"Haven't you guessed?" she replied, smiling.
"You mean…"
"Duh!"
"Took him long enough, but… wow. I didn't expect… not so soon, anyway."
"You don't 'expect' anything, Harlton."
Revelations, recreations, thoughts overcome with joy
Forgetfulness, Regretlessness, life continues in your favor
"You're so formal," he said, exasperated. "Don't worry, Car; I won't forget you guys when I'm at the top."
"You better not, or else I will personally track you down and skewer you alive!" She exclaimed.
"Cara, you barbarian," he said playfully. She giggled lightly. "You sound so sexy when you giggle," he added huskily.
Cara rolled her eyes and shook her head. "You are such a flirt," she sighed, as they stopped at a door. "Good luck."
Cara gave him a thumbs up sign. He grinned and nodded. "Here it goes…"
Smirks and smiles, jokes and joviality
Masking hurt, confusion, masked over reality
Harlton pushed open the door and entered the large room. The light scent of honeysuckle filtered through his nostrils and some other flower he could not recognize. The boss always had some sort of scent in his room, for a reason Harlton could not bother to decipher.
"Have a seat, Harlton," came the boss's gruff voice as he sat at a large desk on the far side of the room, a laptop perched on the carefully polished wooden desk, its color that of a deep chocolate.
The teen made his way to the far side of the room and sat at the chair indicated, waiting.
"Why did you wish to see me, sir?"
The boss smiled. "I would like to commend you on your excellent performance during that untimely argument in the park last week," he stated. "And I would like to bring forth a preposition which I have been considering for quite some time." Harlton nodded. "As you are aware, recently we were met with a great loss at the death of Daniel Clifford, one of LAFFATs sector leaders, and we have been searching for a replacement for quite some time now." Harlton's eyes widened; he had been expecting a promotion, but this… "So, what do you say?"
Decisions need precision, over think it if you could
Clickin' on the clock
Incessant tickin' and the tock
Meet it, defeat it
"O-of course, sir."
"Very well then. I was hoping you would say yes. I would like you to pack your things, for you will be moving in tonight. There is much work to do. Congratulations, Harlton."
"Thank you, sir," he replied as he rose from his seat.
The boss shook his head. "Harlton, please, we are of the same rank now. No more of these 'sir's and 'Mr. Stanton'. Call me Thomas, Thomas Stanton."
The teen smiled and shook his hand. "Only under one condition, Thomas," he replied.
"And what is that?" questioned the boss, his eyebrows raised as he fixed Harlton with a quizzical look.
"No more of this 'Harlton' nonsense."
"What would you prefer I called you?" he asked.
Who are you?
Where are you?
Who am I?
"Call me Jack, just Jack."
CHAPTER 4
Fire in a Matchbox
Thick torrents of rain lashed against the car windows, like a whip against human flesh. It was only two o'clock, yet the sky was a deep grey dotted with small white clouds.
Jack sighed as the cab stopped before the large building. He could not see anything through the window; it was too thickly coated in water. He leaned back into the elegantly cushioned seats and pulled out his mobile, quickly dialling a number. The phone rang for a f
ew minutes before it was answered by a gruff voice.
"Hello?"
"Hey. It's Jack. I've reached the place. What next?"
"There should be a guy waiting for you by the door or something. I don't know his name, though."
"Okay, thanks. Bye."
"See ya."
Jack slid the mobile into his pocket and zipped up his hoodie. He pulled the hood over his head. Paying the driver, he stepped out of the cab into a torrent of rain. Jack began to shiver violently as his eyes scoured the building before him for any sign of life. Nothing. Just perfect.
A pristine white building towered above him, its many windows glistening under thick coats of rain basking their surface. A small can be laid on the puddle-strewn path, its exterior, crushed by the many feet stamped over it through time. He kicked it absently as he made his way to the entrance, his arms folded over his torso, his teeth chattering from the biting cold.
The doors to the building slid open automatically. He entered its vast interior. The lobby was filled with a clear amber light. His muddy footprints stained the polished, laminated flooring. Jack glanced around the lobby. He was alone. He slipped his hand into his trouser pocket and once again pulled out his mobile. He began to dial. He stopped abruptly when the door to the lift on the far side of the room suddenly opened.
Jack moved his gaze from the mobile, and focused his attention on the figure as she entered the lobby. She was a Cadlian, her hair a rich golden brown clipped up in an elegant twist and her skin a rich tan. She stopped abruptly, her eyes focused on his drenched form. The corners of her lips quirked into a smirk.
"Um, hey. I'm Jack."
The girl bit her bottom lip in an attempt not to laugh. "Um, are you looking for someone?" she asked. She was trying to be polite. Did he really look that bad?
"Yeah, sort of. Someone was meant to meet me here. I'm the new owner."
The girl brought her hand to her mouth as she began to giggle lightly. "Of course you are," she stated, in between muffled laughter. Great, now she thought he was mad. That did wonders for his ego. "I hope that that 'someone' will show up." She began to make her way to the lift opposite the one she had just come from.
Jack stepped forward as she entered the lift. He had to stop her before she left, or he would never find anyone. He had to convince her he was the owner. "Wait!"
"Yeah?" she replied, her lips once again quirking into a smirk, her fingers absently pressing the buttons.
He had to think of something to say to her, fast. The lift doors were beginning to close. "I'm not mad!" Smooth Jack, real smooth…
All he heard was the girl's muffled laughter as the doors closed, and he was once again left on his own.
That went well. Jack sighed and passed through the lobby, attempting to contemplate what to do next. He could phone Seb, but Seb had already said that he had to wait here. Where was here meant to be, though? Nobody had arrived, which meant that this was probably not "here".
Jack's eyes scoured over the lobby once again. Muddy trainer prints stained the polished floorboards, marring their flawless exterior like blood seeping over a white surface. He shrugged and sighed, then ran a hand through his now soaked black hair. A few bangs fell before his eyes, drenched with rain. Slowly, the ends were coiling back into their original form. And who said only girls had bad hair days?
He leaned back into a bench on the side of the lobby, the amber light basking him in artificial warmth. He was about to pull out his mobile once again when the door on the far side of the lobby was suddenly flung open.
The first thing that Jack noticed about the figure was his black hair, spiked with gel. He was from The Gredge, his skin a pasty white. He was far too white for an Elonsican. He fixed Jack with a quizzical look as he entered.
"Hey, could you please help me out?" The teen raised his eyebrows and stopped, waiting for Jack to continue. "Someone was meant to meet me here. I'm Jack, Jack Harlton. The new boss."
The teen's eyes widened. "Are you joking? Dude, we're practically the same age."
Jack pulled a card from his pocket and flashed it before the teen's face. "Someone was meant to meet me here," he stated.
The teen grinned lopsidedly and scratched his head. "Heh. That would be me. I got a little sidetracked." He outstretched his hand. "I'm Damian, Damian Layden. I'll be your roommate and I'm meant to show you around this joint."
Jack took his hand and shook it. "You know, because of you, I totally embarrassed myself in front of a fit girl out there." Damian grinned lopsidedly. He was nervous. There was no point in having a go at him; Jack did not want enemies on the first day. "So, where's the room?"
Damian sauntered towards the lift that the girl had used only a few minutes before. "This way."
Jack followed hastily. Finally, he was going to see how this new place would be like. Then he would get to work; there were many things which needed to be done due to Clifford's sudden death.
They entered the lift. Jack's eyes rested over the smooth metal encasement. Light bounced over its surface. Thin beams of white mixed with a sharp metallic silver, like a mirror reflecting images all contorted, their outlines blurred like ink on wet paper, spilling and mixing with other outlines to create a composition, distorted yet easily fathomable.
The doors slid shut before them.
Damian leaned on the side of the lift, his arms folded over his torso. "Who's the hot chick?" he asked, casually.
Jack shrugged. What a question to ask. "I'm new to this place. I don't really know any names."
"You got a girlfriend?" He was inquisitive, nothing wrong with that.
Jack shook his head. "Nah. Not currently, anyway." The question hit a chord, but he could not let Damian know that. Not yet, anyway.
"You are looking for a steady one, or a one off?"
That question was funny, ironic even. He felt like laughing at that, laughing bitterly. "I'd probably want a steady one. I'm not into the whole one-night stand thing. You?" It was a short answer yet it held a lot of hidden meaning. Of course, Damian was not to know that.
Damian ran a hand through his hair and smirked. "Personally, I prefer a bit of both, if you get what I mean. I like to have one on the side, just in case the first goes past her expiration date."
Jack laughed lightly. "Nice way to put it."
The lift stopped as the doors slowly slid open, grumbling against the smooth tiling of the lift. Damian stepped out quickly and wordlessly, followed by Jack. The soft layer of carpet beneath them muffled their footsteps. They entered a long hallway and Damian pulled out a key, then made his way to a door on the far side. He slid the key into the lock and turned it clockwise. Click. Pulling down the handle, he heaved the door open and entered the room.
Jack continued to follow silently. The silence was awkward, as if both of them wanted to say something, but neither wished to start the conversation. It was like Football when you were younger, when you would just stand there and wait for the teacher to tell you to start in fear of starting yourself and becoming embarrassed, in fear of having all of the attention focused on you alone.
"What do you think of it, then?" Damian's words cut through the silence, like a knife through human flesh, quickly yet effectively.
Jack scoured the room. It was nice, nice enough. "It's cool." He was cold and tired and wet. Short answers would do for now.
"Glad you like it." Was that sarcasm?
Damian made his way to the sofa, which was placed before the television set in the center of the room. He slumped onto the soft cushions and pulled out a remote, flicking through the channels until it rested on some sort of sports program.
"Where's the bedroom?" The sound of a commentary blared through the room. Damian was only half listening. He indicated the door behind him with his free hand.
Jack made his way to the door and entered the room. A large bed was in the corner and beside it was a small chest of drawers. Opposite that was a wardrobe, which was the color of a deep brown and besid
e that was a small, empty desk. A dark blue carpet covered the floor, clinging and flowing over every inch like water splayed over a hollow surface. To the far side of the room was a large window, shrouded by thick velvet curtains the shade of a deep navy, like the sky on a warm night.
He fell onto the bed, causing it to creak beneath his weight. The view from the window would probably be pretty. He would check it out later, but for now he had to dry up.
Jack unzipped his hoodie, his body shivering from the cold. Beneath it he wore a white tee shirt, and, to his dismay, that was also soaked through. His suitcases were meant to come later on today. Therefore, he would have to survive with the clothes he was currently wearing. It was likely he would have a cold by then, or a fever, or maybe even worse.
He was tired. It would be best to go to sleep, but he didn't want to dampen the covers. He would have to ask Damian for a towel. Damian -He seemed like a pretty cool guy. That is, if you stayed on the right side of him. They would probably get along, but it would be a bit awkward, him being the boss and Damian his employee.
It sounded unreal, like some sort of dream or a joke. Jack Harlton, LAFFAT sector leader. It would take some getting used to. He said it out loud, as if by doing so it would confirm it, make it more solid.
