The Way of Things (2 page)

And John was right. His new partner that
seemed to come out of nowhere was a Hotshot by all accounts. Tommy
James was a college quarterback that was bored with throwing
passes, so he decided to join the police force. He was ambitious,
he made detective in just over a year. He was quick on the gun,
fast on his feet and he knew how to work the system to get what he
wanted. In his short time on the force he had racked up a healthy
arrest record and had made friends with all the right people in the
Glass Castle. The Glass Castle was the tongue-in-cheek name that
the working stiffs used when referring to the Commissioner or
anyone else sitting a desk and speaking at parades. Tommy's star
was shinning bright and he was an unstoppable force that could make
it to the top, that is as long as he could keep his head on his
shoulders.

Across the street Chung's henchman walked
around the corner and down a narrow alley way. He was a slender man
in his twenties with a bald head and a big tattoo of a Black Widow
on the side of his head. "There he is, Spiderhead!"

John almost spilled his coffee when Tommy
yelled in his ear. John and Tommy leaped out of the car and
followed Spiderhead down the alley way. At the end of the alley was
an open door, the detectives pulled their weapons and cautiously
entered the room. There was meat hanging from hooks, big beef slabs
swinging back and forth, but no people. They had stepped into the
back of a Chinese butcher shop that was connected to the Green
Dragon restaurant. Except for the Chinese music playing in the
front of the shop, it was oddly quiet. This was familiar territory
for John and the solider in him quickly took over. He motioned for
Tommy to check the right, as he moved to the left. As a solider
John had seen a lot of action, mostly Black Ops missions that
involved dropping into dangerous towns or villages, finding the
weak spots and exploiting them.

John slowly opened a door to a walk-in
freezer. His heart was pumping at full throttle. John leaned into
the freezer. The cold chill in the air was instant. The freezer was
empty, nothing but dead meat. John knew at this point that
Spiderhead was on to them, he must have known that they had
followed him down that alley way. “Crap.” he got away. John started
to walk towards the front of the butcher shop, but was stopped by
the sounds of gunshots coming from the alley. He quickly turned to
run back to the alley, but he was stopped by a big, tattooed and
very pissed off man holding a meat cleaver standing in the doorway.
"Move, I'm a police officer." John demanded. The man just started
to laugh at John. "Have it your way." John shot the man in the
right leg and he fell to the ground dropping the meat cleaver and
yelling in pain. John ran passed the man and into the alley.

At the end of the alley Tommy was laying on
the ground bleeding, he had been shot several times. John fell to
his knees and held Tommy. There was too much blood, he was sitting
in a pool of it, Tommy was dying. "Hang in there kid. Hang on."
John was digging in his pocket for his phone. "I'll get help." John
called for an ambulance. Tommy was dying too fast. "I fucked up."
Tommy was coughing up blood. "It's ok, just hang on." John was
cradling Tommy in his arms, the way a father would his son.
"Spider...it was Spider." Tommy's body started to shake. "I know
kid, hang on." It was too late, Tommy died in that alley way, in
John's arms.

An hour later, John's boss Chief Whitman and
an investigation team were in the alley way. There was police tape
everywhere. "So let me get this right. You saw one of Chung's thugs
come into the alley, you followed him into this butcher shop."
Whitman had that pitch in his voice like dad had just caught you in
a lie. But John was not lying, not this time. "That is correct sir.
Then I heard gunshots." If you listened close you could hear the
rebellious contempt in John's voice, not that he was trying to hide
it much. John had a strange love-hate relationship with Whitman.
They had known each other for over twenty years. They first met in
boot camp when they were both trying to date the same girl.

It was probably a good thing that Whitman
won that contest. Looking back at his life, John would not wish
that misery on anyone else. "Gunshots?" Whitman's questioning was
starting to push John's buttons. "Yes, gunshots." John still had
Tommy's blood all over him, he really needed a drink at this point.
"And you ran in the direction of the gunshots?" Whitman said it
like he was surprised John had the balls to do it. "Yes, I ran to
the gunshots." John's mother had a certain outlook on what makes a
hero she would tell him "A true hero always runs towards the sounds
of gunshots." John never forgot that. "And what happened when you
got out here, to the alley?" Whitman lit a cigarette and offered it
to John. He did not take it. "I saw Tommy." John quickly corrected
himself. "I saw Detective James on the ground bleeding to death
with multiple gunshot wounds." John was trying to stay
professional, but Tommy had made an impression on him. "No
shooter?" Whitman asked a stupid question and John snapped at him
"If I saw the shooter he would be laying next to Tommy." Whitman
had no doubt about that. He liked to give John a hard time, but
deep down he knew that John was a man who would get the job done,
done at any cost if need be. Chief Whitman looked at John and shook
his head. "Ok John, you look like shit. Go home and get some rest."
Finally some good news, John could not wait to get out of that damn
alley. He started to walk away when Whitman said "John, I need your
badge and gun." John spun on his heels. "What are you talking
about?" John knew the rules, but acted surprised anyway. "Come on
John don't bullshit me, you're suspended pending psychological
evaluation." John thought he was going to get out of it, but the
look on Whitman's face said otherwise. John pulled his gun and
badge and handed it over to Whitman. "This is bullshit and you know
it." Whitman was not having it. "Policy is policy John, call the
shrink in the morning, you know the number." John had no interest
in calling the shrink, but if anybody really needed to talk about
his problems, it was definitely John.

Later that afternoon, John stopped off at a
bar for a drink. It was a shitty bar in a shitty neighborhood, it
was also down the block from an apartment he just started renting.
The bar was almost empty. John thought to himself 'Good, no stupid
people to deal with.' John sat at the bar and started slamming
shots. "Tough day?" The bartender had seen John drink before, but
not like this. "You have no idea." Now that was an understatement,
he thought. "Have a beer on me." The bartender placed a beer mug in
front of him. "Thanks."

John tried to smile, but it just did not
happen. John came to New York to get away from his memories. But
now he was right back where he started, Chasing down Chung and his
thugs. Tommy died in John's arms just like his wife and little girl
did. How could John let that go, how do you get over something like
that? You don't. You fight through it and you get revenge. That is
what John wanted right now, revenge.

John started to take a drink of the beer
when two guys stood up from a table in the back and walked over to
John. "Hey Pretty boy." Are you kidding me? John thought to
himself. "Look who's talking" he said. The bartender moved away
from them, he knew what was coming next, and so did John. "Oh, he's
a tough guy" the other thug said.

John quickly sized up the two thugs behind
him. He could easily see them in the huge mirror at the bar. John
looked down at his glass and started to laugh. John elbowed the
pretty boy thug in the gut, he quickly fell to the ground. The
second thug grabbed John, but John easily broke free and slammed
his face into the bar and then into the table and chairs behind
him. Pretty boy stood up and lunged for John, but he was stopped
cold by a kick to the groin and then a punch to face, dropping him
to the ground. With both men on the ground John took a drink of his
beer and noticed a man in the back of the bar looking at him. He
looked out of place, not the normal dirtbag you'd see in a dive
like this. He was wearing a white suit with a black tie, long black
hair and a stupid grin on his face. John thought to himself 'Who
the fuck dresses like that.' The man raised his glass to John and
took a drink. John looked at the bartender and pulled some cash out
of his pocket and left it on the bar. "For the mess." The bartender
just smiled, picked up the cash and said "See you next time
John."

The Offer

Later that night, a neon sign was blinking through
the shaded window of the dark front room of John's small apartment.
John was passed out on his couch with an empty bottle of Jack
Daniels sitting on the coffee table next to a picture of John's
wife Victoria and his daughter Lucy along with a newspaper clipping
that read 'Two Die in Gangland Shooting.'

John started to cough, waking him from his
sleep. He stumbled to the kitchen and grabbed a milk carton from
the refrigerator. He took a big drink from the carton and looked at
a child's drawing on the refrigerator. It was one of the last
things Lucy had given John before she was killed. The drawing was
of him, Lucy and Victoria drawn in crayon at the park. John's heart
was heavy with guilt and anger. He should have been there, he could
have stopped it. It was because of him that they are not alive. He
could have backed off, if he had backed off they would not have
been killed.

He walked back to the couch and he heard a
familiar sound coming from the front door. It sounded like someone
picking the lock. He quickly hid behind it and waited for it to
open. All John could see was a man's hand with a chrome plated gun
in his hand. With one sweeping move John snapped the man's arm and
tossed him onto the coffee table shattering it into pieces. It was
the pretty boy thug from the bar. John thought to himself 'What the
Hell is he doing here?' He went to grab him but from behind a
second man grabbed and slammed him into a wall, again and again
face first into the wall till John's head was bleeding and blood
dripped into his eyes. Then he put John in a choke hold. John
struggled but could not break free. This man was bigger and solid,
with a grip like a vice. John fell to his knees, it was getting
hard to breathe, his vision was fading. Pretty boy stood up and
straightened his clothes then he grabbed a lamp off of the end
table. "Lights out Johnny boy" he said as he slammed the lamp into
Johns face.

A few moments had gone by when John woke up
in the back of an ambulance laying on a gurney as two paramedics
were stitching up the gash on his head. John's no fool, he knew it
was a kidnapping and started to fight back. He pushed one paramedic
off of him and into the wall of the ambulance as the other jumped
on top of him trying to restrain his arms. "Juice him, Dammit!" The
other paramedic scrambled through a drawer and pulled out a very
big needle, it looked like the kind of needle you would use on a
horse. "Hurry up!" The paramedic slammed the needle into John's
leg, but not before he got in one last punch breaking the nose of
his wrestling partner. The drug was fast acting and within seconds
John was out cold.

When John opened his eyes he was strapped to
a metal chair in a white room with one big mirrored window in front
of him. The room was so bright that it hurt just to open his eyes.
John's headache was massive and he knew if he moved he would just
make it worse. He was still groggy from the drugs, but he was able
to focus on the window. He could just barely make out a shape in
front of him, it was Michael, a tall, well built, calm-looking man
in a suit. Aside from the long hair he had that military look about
him. The kind of look that makes you think he could handle himself
just fine, whether he was in a bar fight in Detroit or in a gun
fight on the mean streets of some shit hole on the other side of
the world. John could see that he was different from the rejects
Michael had sent to fetch him. John had seen Michael's type many
times when he was in the Army and even more so when he went Top
Secret. He could spot the swagger and fit of a military man easily.
Michael had a smile on his face but he was a killer for sure. Like
a Pit Bull that plays with children, everything seems fine until a
switch is flipped inside his head and then there is nothing but
bloody bodies left on the ground.

John was able to muster the strength for
some words. "I know you, don't I?" John was trying to get a feel
for what was going on. "That is quite possible John, My name is
Michael." John knew exactly who Michael was. With a tone of sarcasm
he said "You were at the bar. Hiding in the back with the two
morons that jumped me." John looked at the leather straps holding
his hands in place. "Let me guess, these are for my protection
right?" Michael smiled at John. "You're very observant John, I
always liked that about you. In fact That is one of the reasons you
were chosen."

The idea of being chosen by anyone for
anything did not sit well with John. On one of his Black Ops
missions he was chosen by some desk jockey to blow up a roadway
that was full of villagers trying to hop borders in Africa. There
was not a terrorist threat or some malicious activity, those people
were just trying to get out of the shitty life's they had been
handed. But an order is an order. "Chosen? What the hell are you
talking about? What is this place?" John hated not being in
control. "I want answers." Michael was getting tired of this
mindless banter. "Well, since you're so eager to know everything I
guess it is time for the facts." Michael was pacing around the
room. "Here it is John, you are dead. Life as you knew it is over.
You don't exist anymore. After the death of your family you spun
into a massive hole of depression, started drinking, taking risks
and after having your partner die in your arms, you lost it and you
killed yourself. You drowned when you drove your car off of a
bridge in the middle of the night. It's a sad tale of a cop that
had everything, a beautiful wife, a great kid, a promising career
and then he suddenly lost it all." It was obvious that Michael was
enjoying this story. "You need to face it John, the life you knew
is over."