So, how's your day been? Mine has been just peachy, so I decided to write a story about it. You'll thank me later… hopefully. By the way, if this isn't possible, let me dream.
The room had a comfortable feeling to it. It had a deep mahogany conference table stretched across the carpeted floors. The walls were a cream color and hot rays of sun spilled across the room, bathing it in a yellow glow. Its only two occupants at the moment were both grey in appearances, looking sort of depressed as they sat in the computer chairs available.
The taller of the two looked to be older than 35, but younger than fifty with a common black hairstyle and black sullen eyes that were blank and without any comfort in the slightest to them. He wore a black tuxedo jacket that was unbuttoned to show a casual white tuxedo shirt and he wore black slacks and some black Italian shoes to match. His forehead had deep lines that ran across it and his face was without any trace of emotion to them.
The younger boy was rather attractive in his pre-teenage years. He had average boy hair that was a light black that could easily be called super dark brown by the idiots who came up with hair color names. His eyes were a wary and fearful shade of blue that kept averting themselves and didn't seem confident in the slightest. He was fairly tan and wore his Sunday best, which consisted of a gray jacket that opened to expose his white shirt that framed his body wonderfully and a pair of gray slacks that drew attention from his white Nike sneakers. He had the looks so that any sane woman within ten years of his age would swoon after fangirlishly giggling. Instead of his usual smile, a frown traces over his lips and his stomach buzzed furiously.
Today was the day Richard had been waiting four years, 6 months, 55 minutes and roughly 36 seconds for. Today was the day he got to watch Tony Zucco finally get what he deserved. Richard had spent many nights dreaming of today, but as he sat there, it wasn't as he imagined it. As he sat there, his eyes boring invisible holes in the conference table, his stomach churned and his fear was intensified. He was scared stiff, and he had no idea why. Maybe it was because today was the day the only person he had left to blame for his pain was dying. Maybe it was because Richard wouldn't be the one killing him like he had planned since the second he had heard his parents fateful and mind-numbing screams. But whatever the reason, he was scared and Bruce wasn't going to help him.
Richard clasped his fingers and folded his right ankle over his left, bringing them back under the chair. He swallowed hard and waited anxiously for the men to come back in the room like they had promised an hour ago. But so far, the room had remained silent and no one had uttered a single word. Any sound available had been nothing softer than a breath. The long lasting silence was shattered as Richard manned up and turned to his long time ward.
"Bruce," he said softly, praying for a reply.
Bruce gazed his way, his expression never changing. Richard cleared his throat gently.
"I-I… I'm scared," he admitted, his voice breaking as it failed to keep its pitch in the low and soft tone he was using.
Bruce didn't react at first. Slowly, he frowned deeper and sighed.
"Richard… your first enemy, your main priority for your troubles, he dies tonight and we're here to watch. There's nothing to fear after today," Bruce said with his regular gravelly voice. "You're probably just excited. If you want, I'll ask if you could inject him, but I doubt that they'll authorize that, seeing how dangerous Zucco is…"
Bruce went silent as the silver door swung open and two men dressed in fancy government outfits walked in, their expressions identical to Bruce's. They took seats opposite of Richard and Bruce and the four sat in a brief silent. Then they turned to Richard.
"You are Mr. Grayson, yes?" the taller and lankier man confirmed.
Richard nodded curtly, ridding his face of emotion the best he could.
"Well… my partner and I… we were told that they don't plan to kill Anthony Zucco any longer. He's off of death row."
Richard jumped up, the chair flying back and his eyes swelled.
"What?" he cried, anger and fear battling within his voice.
The heavier man shrugged.
"Sorry little dude. The man has a great lawyer. He's just back in prison for life… unless you want to play lawyer and convince us?" the man was kidding on the last line, but Richard couldn't tell.
"Hell yeah; that bastard needs to be locked away!" Richard snapped.
Bruce and the two partners winced at the cussword, but they let him finish.
"He killed my parents just because the Circus wouldn't give him money! Let me go talk to him and you listen in. I swear I'll have you convinced by the time I'm done. I won't leave the room until I know he's dead!" Richard swore, anger swirling in his blue orbs.
"Can we do that?" the tall man whispered to his partner.
"I don't see why not. If we handcuff Zucco and make the kid keep a distance, I see no reason to not let him," the heavier man muttered.
They both nodded, looking to Bruce for approval. Bruce in turn looked at Richard before nodding. The partners got up again.
"Hey kid, hold tight. I'm going to go ask my boss," the heavier man said.
The tall man quickly followed, not wanting to be alone with them. As soon as they were gone, Bruce swiftly head slapped Richard as hard as he could. The boy let out a cry of surprise and pain, hissing sharply. His hand flew swiftly to the sight and he winced, sitting down slowly.
"What was that for?" he cried, his ears ringing slightly and white blurs obscuring his vision.
"I told you not to cuss."
Richard screwed his eyes up.
"So? That doesn't give you the right to Gibbs-slap me!" he defended himself before letting out a pained groan. "Da- DARNIT! That hurt!"
Bruce didn't react.
"I own you; how's that for a reason?" he said calmly.
Richard frowned in distaste. "If I go blind or have a concussion, I'm suing you."
"You've had worse hits. Quit being a baby," Bruce scolded, no pity in his tone.
Richard grumbled beneath his breath, but Bruce was right. He had taken worse hits. It was just the fact that Bruce had hit him that actually bothered him. The two fell into a silence again, only this one was awkward, unlike the others. Richard usually wasn't in this mood and nobody liked it when the order was out of balance. Then, after seemed what like ages, the tall lanky man walked in alone.
"Yo, Grayson," he began, but getting a mind numbing stare from Bruce, he cleared his throat and started over. "Excuse me, Mr. Grayson? Would you come with me? Mr. Zucco is ready for you."
Richard nodded and stood to his feet, Black Friday walking [1] to join the man. Then the two silently slipped through the folds and turns of the building until they got into what seemed to be the interrogation room, where on the opposite side of the glass, Zucco sat smugly with his hands handcuffed to the table. Richard clenched his hands into fists, but he resisted the urge to punch through the glass and break up Zucco's reflection. He turned to an older looking man in the room.
"Can I go in?" he asked, assuming the man was the boss.
"Depends," the man said slowly, "do you promise not to kill him or harm him or seriously maim or even touch him?"
Richard frowned.
"Not even punch him?" he asked, a hopeful trace to his voice.
The older man shook his head.
"No; if you touch him with an intention to hurt him, we will take you from the room immediately. Now, I'm eager to hear what you're going to say. Try to convince us boy."
Richard nodded and bounded from the room.
"Do you think he'll convince us?" the tall lanky man asked.
The old man shook his head. "No, not in the slightest. I bet 20 bucks on it."
The tall man shrugged. "I say the kid convinces us."
The two exchanged glances and shook hands, turning their attention eagerly to the room as the metal door swung open. Richard walked in slowly and took a seat in the chair opposite Tony Zucco, adjusting his shirt and jacket before turning his attention to the gang boss. He put on a soft smile.
"Hey," he said casually. "How's your day been?"
Tony raised an eyebrow, confused by the hospitality. Richard just kept smiling though.
"I'm just asking, it's not a trick question," he assured the Italian man.
Tony hesitated, but he replied cautiously.
"Well, not so good. I woke up this morning only to be told that I was being put on Death Row. That dampens any one's spirit," Tony smiled weakly.
Richard winced. "Ouch! Death Row huh? That kinda sucks."
Tony shrugged. "Could be worse. My lawyer talked 'em out of it as far as I know, so for now I'm just stick in the prisons with crap food."
Richard smiled. "Better than the injection though, right?"
Zucco smiled sheepishly. "Some days; you obviously haven't tried the food there!"
He laughed weakly and Richard joined in, confusing anybody watching, but no one made a comment.
"So, what about life? Has it been serving you well?" Richard pressed on.
Zucco shrugged. "Ever since the Caped Crusader and his little snot for a sidekick got me locked away, it hasn't been the greatest. From what I heard though, the gang has tripled in size and has become more dangerous over in the middle east, so that's good to hear I guess."
"Don't you wish you were over there with them though?" Richard frowned softly, seeming to sympathize.
Tony made a sound similar to 'eh'. He pursed his lips in thought.
"Not really you know," he decided, "I kind of honor my life."
Richard shrugged. "Makes sense to me, I honor mine too and I wouldn't wanna be over there with all the war. What about kids and a wife? Do you have any family?"
Zucco shook his head.
"Nope; kid, I'm just like you. No folks, no siblings, no wife, no kids. I'm all alone," he grinned, a trace of venom on his lips.
Richard laughed at first, but then he narrowed his eyes, standing to his feet and he hit the table hard enough to silence the room.
"Don't ever compare me to scum like yourself," he growled, pure venom rolling off of his tongue.
Tony jumped in surprise. What truly freaked him out was that Richard cocked his head and grinned seconds later.
"Anyway, since we're still on the topic, do you wanna know how my day's been?" he asked sweetly, sitting back down and folding one leg over the other.
"Do I have a choice?" Tony asked instead, frowning slightly.
The ebony haired boy shrugged. "Well yeah, I guess you do."
Tony pursed his lips again.
"I uh… sure, let me hear it. How's your day been?" he asked, just as casually as Richard had.
Richard thought about it.
"Well… not so good actually. I had a nightmare last night involving evil gummibears. I don't know what it is with me and gummibears, but… Anyway, after that, I got a call from my best friend, you don't know him. He called to complain about how his parents got him Grand Theft Auto, The Ballad of Gay Tony… hey, Tony's your name! Ha, the game was made for you!" Richard giggled quietly. "Well, he wanted Grand Theft Auto 4 and he was so mad because his parents messed up."
He put both feet flat on the floor.
"I wish my parents would buy me the wrong video game just so I could call up and complain to him!" he grinned, and then quickly sobered, the happiness in his face replaced with murder. "Oh yeah, I can't. They're kinda dead."
Tony was silent, not even a trace of remorse through him. Only thing he was thinking was of how bipolar this kid was acting. This time though, Richard didn't smile again. His phone cut him off.
"If you ever loved somebody put your hands up," his phone sang and Richard weakly raised his hand, his ring and pinky fingers down but the other three up, "and now they're gone and you're wishing you could give them everything…"
"Um… your phone is ringing," Tony pointed out.
Richard shrugged softly, bobbing his head to the tune before it shut off.
Richard smiled faintly at the silent, staring at his phone. "Yeah, this song fits me… I wish my folks were here ya know, so I wouldn't be here… but they're gone and I can't give them anything…."
His eyes scanned the table before he looked up at Tony.
"Hey, can I ask you something?" he asked, sounding small and vulnerable, his eyebrows furrowed.
Tony shrugged. "Sure, why not? It's not like I'm going anywhere."
Richard cleared his throat.
"Why'd you have them kill my parents out of everyone?" he asked, his voice shy. "There were several acts where the kids actually had family to fall back on. Even if it was because my parents were the lead in the show, why didn't you wait until I was on the trapeze before they were killed? Why'd you leave me alive just to make me suffer?"
Tony didn't answer, because honestly, he had no idea. Richard continued, his eyes watery.
"Do you know what it's like to grow up throughout your childhood without friends because you don't trust anyone anymore? Do you know what it's like to be warded by a man that isn't home half the time and when he is, he usually ignores you? I haven't been hugged in five years. I haven't been held in five years. I haven't loved in five years. Do you know what that's like?" Richard half cried the last part furiously.
Tony shook his head slowly. "I honestly can say I don't know what it's like to not have folks growing up. Mine died of lung cancer and old age."
Richard blinked fast, biting his lip.
"When I was told today that some guys were gonna give you lethal injection, I wasn't as happy as I wanted to be. Do you wanna know why?"
Tony said nothing, so Richard took it as a yes.
"Because I wanted to be the one that killed you. I vowed the second I knew they were dead that I'd be the one that killed you. I spent many nights staying up… thinking… dreaming… I used to imagine pushing you off that high ledge just so you knew what it felt like for them. I used to long to stab you in places that it would hurt like Hell, but it wouldn't kill you for a long while so you'd die slowly. I wanted to trap your head in a box with a starved rat or lock you in the Brazen Bull. I wanted you to suffer," Richard took a deep and slow breath, wiping at his eyes with the cuff of his jacket.
"When I heard lethal injection, my heart dropped. I wanted to hear your screams, not watch you drift off peacefully. You don't deserve this nice of a death. You're a murderer, and an attempted murderer on my part. Do you know how many nights of planned to kill myself just to go see my mom and dad? No, you don't. You can't even imagine. I've tried once, but Bruce came and stopped me. Some days, I wish he hadn't. If he hadn't, I wouldn't be here feeling sorry for himself…"
Tony held up his handcuffed hands in a show of surrendering.
"Hey, if you wanna kill me, feel free," he offered, smiling slyly.
Richard shook his head.
"Nah, I want you to die, but if I kill you, I'll be the one in the chair getting injected. I haven't even said goodbye to KF, so it can wait… Nice try though," Richard half congratulated the man.
It was the best he could do to not reach over and kill him. A heavy silence filled over the two as Richard's phone went off again. This time he picked it up and stood up, excusing himself to the corner of the room.
"Hello? Oh hey KF… Dude you picked a crappy time to call. No, I'm just talking to a heartless murderer….I'm serious… Kay, just call me back later… Yes, I promise! Gosh, you sound just like Megan… Bye," he slipped his phone back in his pocket, taking his seat again.
"Sorry, it was the boy I was telling you about earlier… He wanted to talk about tonight… we're going down to the circus to see an old friend of mine," Richard smiled at the thought.
Tony's eyebrows furrowed. "Why visit the circus? Don't you get reminded of your folks when you go down there?"
Richard shook his head slowly, shooting Tony a 'My-God, Are-You-That-Stupid?' look.
"Not in the slightest," he said sarcastically, "I mean, I might still have the horrendous image of… mom's hand missing mine by feet as her and dad slowly hurtled to their deaths… Their screams kind of scarred my childhood you know, but no, it never crosses my mind! OF COURSE IT DOES! No thanks to you…"
Richard got to his feet again, feeling antsy, tugging on his jacket again, and frowning deeply. He walked over to the table, closer to Tony.
"Do you feel bad at all?" he asked, his eyes narrowed. "Do you even care about the childhood you ruined?"
Tony shrugged. "Not really. I kill who I kill; it's the money that matters."
"You heartless assho-…" Richard reached back and head slapped himself, wincing as he did so.
Seeing Tony's confusion, he explained, "I'm not allowed to cuss."
He hesitated, trying to remember what he was saying. Then he turned to the glass.
"I didn't intend to sway you guys. In fact, for all I care, let him rot in a jail cell all his life. Lethal injection would only help this fat tub of lard. I came in here to talk to this guy and see if he even cared what he did to me. But as you can tell, he doesn't. Not in the slightest. And since if I killed him right here, you'd arrest me and kill me, I can't get my life's dream. I know you can't turn your back on this to let me kill him either, because you'd lose your jobs and you don't care for me either. This is just part of your job… But Bruce, please forgive me for this."
Richard spun around and sucker punched Tony Zucco as hard as he could manage with all of the anger that a kid his size could keep back for five years. It was enough to pull Tony, the chair and the table to the floor, only to get a big wince from Tony as blood leaked from his lips and the table fell on him.
"That was for my Mom and Dad," Richard growled, turning around and leaving the room.
He stopped at the door. "And, by the way, I hope you rot in Hell. When you get there, tell the devil I said hi."
Then he stepped out of the room, giggling happily to himself, grinning ear to ear. He may not have killed the man he had wanted to kill for a long while, but he did get to hurt him, and that was good too. He felt as if a portion of the weight on his chest was gone. As he heard the door that led to the opposite side of the glass, he knew Bruce was going to thrash him and that he was going to get in a lot of trouble with the law, but he really didn't give a crap at the moment. In fact, his laughter just increased as he felt Bruce grab his arm roughly. Nothing was more amusing to him at the moment.
[1] On Black Friday, you want everything in the store, but if you run, you get thrown out so you have to haul some balls while walking. It's almost running, but it's not.
Look up 'What Does it Take' and 'Olive You' by Dave Days. Both are AMAZING songs! What does it take has more of a dancing beat and Olive You is just adorable. The guy who sings it has a sexy voice and even sexier hair. He looks like a 17 year old cross between Shaggy and Steve (from Scooby Doo and Blues Clues) only he can pull it off. What'd you think? This was 9 pages! I almost made it two chapters, but I got lazy. Review?
-F.J. [in disguise so the cops in this story don't come and get me]
