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Chapter 18
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2024-10-29 19:42:56THE SETTING WAS unnerving—it played off like one of those whodunnit shows that you'd always want to see in real life. With all the Case Closed and Hardy Boys the people have read, it then seemed like a great idea. But now that it's here, the air was tenser than a coin toss from a Clint Eastwood neo-western film.
Margaret Bishop
Charles Pierre Alfred IV
Charles Pierre Alfred V
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Albert Meyer 1989; 27 Zoologist and AnimalBehaviourist Bright leaned forward and shook Albert’s hand. “Good day to you sir,” he immediately regretted his choice of words. “I mean...bad day to you sir. Or...uhm...” Alb
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THE SILENT CONSULTATIONS of August and Brightt’wardsthe faceted tips of the start of their investigation echoed like a canyon reverberating their thoughts back at them. “Four perfect alibis, one memory-loss, and the mayor of the...us.” Bright was recappingthe two-hour interview with the potential suspects. He stood leaned at the doorway to listen if a commotion rises outside. “All present evidences lead towards an external suspect but my gut tells me that’s not the case.” To August, the death seemed so specifically crafted that there’s only a small chance of her dying to a third-party. "If it’s none of these six, then it has to be a
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“EVER THE ACTOR huh, kid?” The Baron slow-clapped his clammy hands as Albert entered the room. Ennio Morricone played hisItalian epic spaghetti Western film of a work to arrogate the saloon scene of Albert’s double door push. Although this instance, all three of the titles synthesized into the one man behind the counter who gave him all his shots; the opportunity, the bullets and the poison. He opened his mouth again. “To be so caught up in the act, that you even fooled yourself into believing that you were really upset by her death.” Albert distributed his emotions accordingly. “And how did you know that it wasn’t real?”
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YOU CAN SPOT a man who’sseen the reaper countless times in his undying life by the sheer nonchalance they’d have while staring a barrel point-blank in the eye. The scythes of the rowing psychopomp never took it to them to carry this man towards the afterlife to prevent the screams of the perished ceasing to sing about pain, but rather fear.For even as Albert held the Glockat Pierre’s face, his own sweat gave him away while the terminator made literally one shudder from the gunner. That made Albert totally recall his arms as he tried to stay potent.“Clean, swift and precise, right?” He tried his best to
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NOT THE PLACE; not the time. ...your mother still would probably be alive today he’s a better son than you are How dare you. Be mindful how you speak, Charles
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THE SUSTAINING LOWER line and the half-note see-saws of MaksimMrvca’sClaudine woke the shady tree-named man from his 8-hour sleep. He opened his eyes, lowered his legs from his straightened body to meet his bedroom slippers. He sat there at the bedside to savour the 52-key awakening ballad more during this weekday of a morning. Then, exactly after 4 minutes and 31 seconds, he switched themusicto the more upbeat one. Tchaikovsky’s Waltz of the Flowers seemed like an obvious choice, so he went with it. And with the amazing half a minute mark of a height elevation, he switched from
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THERE ARE SEVERAL reasons why August returning back to the car at this moment calls for an upset face like a wet weekend. Firstly, the impromptu conversation with the ice cream lady didn’t go as smoothly as he’d expected. Then, the much-needed information about the bride-to-be's orbs is stuck at the ultimate caboose of his brain. And though the rails go smoothly, no horseshoe turn could make this curve of a brain fart attest to his unspoken theory.But thirdly, the mostheart-breakingreason...“Sir? Where’s the vanilla ice cream?” Bright asked when August got back.
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“VV, DO YOU know where this is?” one of the butlers under VV’s command told him of the latest news.“This wretched place?” VV had never personally been there; but the countless stories about the butchery division of the old version of the company drove even him, a hitman who based his entire work ethic on Benedict Arnold: the world’s most hated traitor, to barf beaches.“I know where it is, but I haven’t been there yet. I heard only of stories.”He was in pursuit of a different brother and was growing restless, but something as reliable as this made his whimsical side come up to love the recent development. The added bonus of having to see Von’s expression, who he thought would be with him, after telling him of his wife barbecuing. He and his flunkeys rounded up the rest of them prancing around the city because of the treasure hunt to play one dodgeball. Only the dodgers this time would have no Sandy fi
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WHEN CAINE READ the latest update from the one person the public deemed missing about another person misplaced by the eyes of the birdwatchers, something clicked in his mind. The old Warehouse G that he was apparently hiding had been cleaned, cleared and abandoned during the end of the underground wars that he commended Albert’s quick-thinking of using it as his hideout: he knew the place like the back of his hand, it has hidden secrets and it’s pretty expendable.“I hope their plan goes well,” Caine said while he walked out of the orphanage to his car. He trusted them enough that he thought that his help wouldn’t be needed anyway.And he was right—about the plan part, the part about trust still had to be discovered by the flock cover in their shimmering plumage—because the moment they read the news, they were already done with their chirps of briefing; they just had to improvise a few.The first one to leave w
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DEATH; DEATH IS an enchantress. Whether you’re young or old; rich or poor; there will come a day when be ensnared by it and succumb to the grave, eventually. The love could’ve been looming over your cotton-soft heart since your birth, or an acquired intimacy for it one day while sat in the wool; for as long as one had as ever trod shoe-leather.Those were some of the thoughts Venin had the moment his country had been attacked by its neighbour with their tanks and their bombs; and their bombs and their guns. And as his head thought about how the world had always been a roundabout of chaos, like Thanos, he longed more and more for the approval of death.Before the hardships he went through, he never wanted to experience it first-hand; that’s why in his younger years, he strove for his passion—acting. But now that all those theatre masks, stage play and bongo drumming had been replac
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EVER SINCE AUGUST came out of the room of deceitful contemptuous tête-à-têtes, there’d been some weird air discharging from his pores that caught Bright off-guard. It wasn’t an obvious one, because he still is the same person in the mannerisms in his actions and words and the entire personality, but there’s just something that he can’t locate even looking at the 88x94-foot map steady on his driving. He’s perspiring buckets when he asked again, “Sir, what happened there?” And like the 17 times he asked, 17 times there wasn’t any reply. That happened a few times before, so Bright didn’t really attribute that to anything rather other than him having found out some really critical information. Bright waited patiently minding his inaudible Ps and Qs to not overstep the mark secured by a portcullis guarding his Sherlockian mind palace. After a few moments more of Bright camping the premises, the hydraulic winches started releasing the drawbridge to what August was
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THE BRICK BLOCKS withstood the trickle in heat as the room warmed up more from the summer reign over the two reconveners after their brief one-week recess of various tasks. Caine, upon losing his ship of an enforcer was grief-stricken for about 30 standard drinks, emerged a new monarch of his own devising where he concluded to himself that he—like a certain 1970 musical comedy—is the company. And as frightened as he was of dying without the fall of the empire that cost him a hundred people who worked side by side by side, he’s more frightened of letting them roam about while he sat on his chair, being alive. So, unusual for him it may be, he asked for help personally from a person capable enough to withstand the intensity of his words; but is also proficient enough that it won’t be a hindrance to his problem-solving. August, on the other end of the seat, had a less emotionally jarring week; but rather a pretty enervating one for his getting’ old eyes. Togethe
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THE BUILDING WAS settling, but not more than Von; the doors were unhinged, but not more than Von; the woodworks were sapped, but not more than Von; the downfall of the warehouse was overtaxation, but so was Von’s. For as the wind whispered through the windows of their rustic solace, so did Albert’s story—though his ear to absorb the few one he found really easy to comprehend; like the Rihanna ft. Calvin Harris song story that he had with Margaret. Because even though he couldn’t find the strength and face to admit it, that experience they had was a mouse squeaker from probably one of the world’s most hopeless place. But what he can’t put twenty of his fingers on, was how did Caine “erase her memory” like erasing chalk from a blackboard. “It’s hard to comprehend, but it’s a higher for of hypnosis. I, myself can only do very little.” Albert also explained why the mind-wipe was important to the Baron’s reputation. “Marge knew so much, so Pierre just locked those
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“IT WAS A weird first meeting for the three of us because it was mine and Alexis’ first date; and Albert was just suddenly there.” That was how she felt the first time he got to sit with them, being an advocate for discomfiture around the table.She also noted that that exact was the time their friendship bloomed into what they had that today. They shared the entirety of three years together laughing, crying and cramming the nights off. It even got to the point that the introverted Albert and the skeptical Margaret fully embraced the 1st of every month’s tradition of having “rabbit, rabbit, rabbit” as their war cry when they found out about the intensity of the subjects. They dowsed themselves in the light superstitions in order to back their intense studies hard; because with their experience, being really, really smart is not enough to guarantee their safety from the thin ice under their feet.Every now and then, Alexis
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THE BAR SCENE got a little bit quitter as the gradient of colour faded to a cadaverous whites and greys while the Black-Eyed Peas’ electronic rap dance music scratched a disc for a halt; all to simultaneously look at Albert unfamiliar with the situation he was in. His date just left him stranded at the middle of the dance floor for an unknown reason and abandoned his boogieing soul ass and thighs.The noises all went back to him when he got tapped on the shoulder by Alexis.“Abe?”“Alex? What are you doing here?”“Ware you doing here, all by yourself? Where’s—”“No reason.” He started walking towards the stool by the bartender with Alexis following him.Alexis was contemplating it, but he decided on it after a while. “You should come sit with us.”Albert okayed after a bit more push-and-pull arguments to later find himself seated with Alexis and his
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THE ROOM SMELLED of typical guy smell, which was not a smelly smell, but a smell nonetheless. The brunet coming through, though, even during his first day, was accustomed to the weirdness of the scent. What he was not so keen about, was the scene he found while getting into the room he'll be spending at least 4 years in. The person he was supposed to be roommates with was dancing some sort of dance while chanting for several gods and goddesses of luck. He shared the sentiment of felicity, but the methods looked so cliché. “Excuse me?” he addressed the man. "Is this room 1-118?" With him realizing the guy at the door, the blond dancer didn’t stop his rituals, but just pushed him inside, locked the door and gave him a small cup. “I’m not thirsty,” The cup-giver still wasn’t relenting in his actions while he looked for something in his bag. The confused conformist waited patiently until his got filled with some alcoholic substance;
