Harvey Specter was a man of many interests. He liked baseball, basketball, girls, movies, winning. Heck, he was the best god-damn lawyer in the city. But not one of his friends at the law firm Pearson Hardman knew of his other, more unique... Interest.
Michael Ross had been walking home from some shitty bar Trevor had dragged him to. Sure, they may have had some fun telling chicks that they were Olympic Swimmers or soon-to-be astronauts, but he had gotten too drunk. He was going to have a very bad hangover in the morning, and he had to go to work as a bike messenger. He groaned softly at the simple thought of the pounding headache he would be waking up with. He turned into an alley that he knew would save him about a block of walking back to his apartment without really thinking. Walking in dark alleyways alone was of course a bad idea, but his alcohol ridden brain didn't think anything of it. He passed two guys halfway down the alley and started having second thoughts. He couldn't make out their faces, but they were both wearing what looked to be expensive suits.
Suddenly Mike was having second thoughts. He picked up his pace, but he could hear their footsteps behind him. Oh, shit! He started running at a breakneck speed, but he was disoriented from all of the shots he had taken at the bar. He could hear the men behind him still, and it felt like a miracle when he erupted from the alleyway's dark jaws. He didn't even dare a glance behind him as he rocketed towards his shared apartment with Trevor. When he reached the door, he looked behind him, but no one was there. Still panting from adrenaline and fear, he found his key and went in, locking the door behind him.
When Trevor came home fifteen minutes later, Mike has just gotten off the phone with the police.
"Who the hell were you talking to?" He slurred, apparently having trouble forming coherent speech.
"The cops," Mike responded, and after glancing at his roommate asked, "How much more did you drink when I left?"
The confused look on Trevor's face was apparent, and he seemed to get five times more sober in a matter of seconds. "Why were you talking to the cops?"
Mike told him the story, but Trevor shrugged it off, replying with, "Guys try to come people all the time in alleys. They won't catch them. Don't fuss about it, Mike." And with that he went into his room and passed out on his own bed, leaving Mike alone to think. It was already 3 o'clock in morning though, so he only stayed up for five minutes before going to sleep himself.
"Are you sure that's where he lives?" Asked a short bearded man, glancing over the address written on the form one more time.
"Yes, sir." Responded a younger and obviously more fit man. "We chased him directly into that apartment building last night, and checked up on all of the residents that lived there. He has a roommate called Trevor Evans. Apartment number 2B."
"Good, good..." The shorter man trailed off, flipping to the next page on the form, which held a picture of a handsome young man with brown hair and bright blue eyes. "He should bring in a profit..."
Mike had been right. The headache he woke up with when his alarm clock went off was unbearable. He took an ibuprofen with a cup of coffee and ate a banana on his way out the door. Luckily Trevor was still sleeping so he didn't have a chance to tempt him with pot before work. He had made that mistake a few to many times. When he walked outside the bright New York summer sun made his head give another violent throb of pain and he squinted his eyes against it. He did not notice the man in a black suit casually leaning against his building, staring at him with a newspaper hanging forgotten in his hand. He also did not notice that as he rode away on his bike, the same man was taking pictures of him with his cellphone.
The day was long and hot for the young bike messenger, and the hangover was still looming over him. By lunch he was praying for the sweet embrace of death, but somehow he managed to pedal through it. All he could think about was getting home and smoking the world's smallest burrito. Finally 6 o'clock came around, and he biked home as fast as his tired legs could manage. When he opened the door to his shared apartment Trevor had already started smoking.
"Whaddup dick-face," Trevor greeted in his usual charming manor, while at the same time offering Mike a joint.
"Nothing shit-head," Mike responded, gladly taking the pot out of his friend's hand and putting it in his own mouth. The joking banter continued on for the rest of the night, as Mike was off the next day. After he and Trevor raided the fridge there was nothing left that was edible, so he would have to go shopping the next day. They both crashed onto their individual beds around 4 o'clock in the morning, content with themselves. Before he drifted into sleep Mike had a fleeting thought about the men who had chased him down the alley, but it disappeared as quickly as it came when he sank into the unconsciousness of sleep.
Harvey Specter walked into Pearson Hardman with an air of confidence, as always. A charming smile played on his lips as he exchanged pleasantries with Jessica Pearson. She, of course, had no idea of the events that were to take place that very night in the hidden corners of the Big Apple. But Harvey did.
When Mike awoke the sun had already climbed halfway into the sky and was shining brightly into his cluttered room. He covered his head with a pillow and turned away from the window to block it out, but after a few minutes he was already too awake to get back to sleep. Yawning widely and stretching, he put on a clean shirt and a pair of relatively new blue jeans. Yawning once more, he walked out of his room and into the kitchen. Trevor had left a scribbled note on the counter saying that he had gone out. Where to Mike didn't really care. He half-heartily hoped it was to buy more drugs, they were running low.
He brewed a cup of coffee and drank it with a blank mind, starring into space. The events that had happened the night before last suddenly jumped into his mind. He pondered for a few moments on why the men had been wearing expensive suits. If they had that kind of money why were they trying to jump people? Maybe they stole them from someone, he thought. It made sense, but what didn't make sense was why Mike could not stop himself from thinking about the experience. It really wasn't an oddity to be jumped in New York City. Shaking the thoughts from his mind, he finished his coffee and went out the door, leaving his bike behind. He felt like walking the streets, enjoying the warmth of the day. It was much easier if you weren't hungover.
He bought a hamburger and fries from a McDonald's. It had been too long since he had eaten the simple commodity that was fast food. Well, a week to be precise. He sat down at a table and watched people walk by on the street as he ate gladly. A simple peace filled him completely. He felt as if everything was perfect. Good fast food can do that to a man. That is, until he saw Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome walk past the glass of the McDonald's and make direct eye contact with him. Paralyzed for a brief second, Mike recognized the man as one of the guys who had chased him down in the alley. He abandoned his food on the table and ran out of the restaurant as quickly as he could. If he was being followed, he had to ditch whoever it was that was after him.
He started to run in the direction he saw the man come from, shoving people out of the way without apologizing. Everywhere there were people wearing classy black suits, and Mike felt even more frightened. He didn't know if any of them could be chasing him, or just simple businessmen. Stopping for a few seconds to regain his wits, he closed his eyes and took a few breaths. He looked all around him, but did not see the man that he had thought was after him. Suddenly he realized how stupid he was being. It was just a coincidence that one of his almost-muggers had walked by the window at McDonald's. He thought about calling the police again to tell them of the sighting, but decided against it.
Shaking his head at his own paranoia, Mike began to walk again. He wasn't exactly sure where he was going, but he really needed to clear his head of these men in suits. He was starting to scare himself. Even though he had only gotten through 2/3 of his hamburger he was full, so he really didn't want anything to eat. He didn't have enough money to go shopping, either. "Hmm, what to do..." he said softly to himself as he moved along through the crowds of people.
"Sir, we have a visual on the target," said a deep voice from one end of a phone call.
"Good, good. Take him in as soon as the opportunity arises," replied a much more distant voice. He was obviously deep in thought about something. Troubled, even.
"Yes, sir," responded the first voice, and he hung up the cellphone, nodding to the other man that was with him.
Mike had been aimlessly walking around a mall, daydreaming about things that were way to expensive for him to afford. At 7 o'clock in the evening he was ready to go home and have a smoke before going to bed. He had already eaten dinner in the food court. He was at the very far side of the mall where less frequented shops were. He pushed the door open and stepped out of a small bookstore he had been wandering through. The parking lot for the store was empty except for a black windowless van. He started to walk when he heard a door slam. He looked behind him and none other than the two men who had tried to mug him were stepping out of the van.
He froze for half a second. It was too long of a pause, though, as they had started running towards him. He dashed away, but before he could even scream to any passers-byes he was tackled to the ground, and something metal was hitting him in the back of the head. He blacked out immediately. The two men carried him and put him in the back of the van. Not a single soul noticed the entire ordeal. Funny how in such a big city no one seems to be watching.
Heyo everyone. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Favorites and reviews are always highly appreciated!
