Jim sat under the big apple green. The grass was mossy which gave the grounds a slightly yellow hue instead of the rich green he was used to at his home in Ireland. Then again he'd never liked his home in Ireland. It was so boring.
His parents were thick as trees. He knew he was different from other children. He noticed things, things he wasn't supposed to. His mother had been a sweet woman. She was homely. The Moriarty household was always spotless and the aroma of freshly baked apple pies was engrained into the walls. Jim couldn't remember a time when his mother wasn't in the kitchen cooking something delicious with her spotty apron tied tightly around her waist. If she wasn't in the kitchen she was scrubbing the house from top to toe or had her hands buried in the rich soil of the gardens. HIs father on the other hand was quite frequently absent. Jim Moriarty the elder was a betting man. That's what his mother always told him. His father liked to bet on the horses. If it wasn't horses then it was the slot machines. Jim later learned that his father was also a cheat. By all rights the Moriarty's should have been living on scraps. Yet they always seemed to have a steady income. Jim never thought anything of it. He hated his father. He didn't care what trouble the man got himself into. His father always came home in the evenings stinking of guinness and gunpowder.
As a small child, Jim always wondered why the smell of gunpowder followed his father around. Later, when he was around 6 or 7 he began to weave stories in his head. In the stories his father was a hero. He would come home with a briefcase in hand and kiss his wife on the cheek. Then he would ruffle his young son's hair and begin to tell them about his day. He was a cop. He had to shoot down the criminals that broke the law. There were a lot of gangs in the area and his father was going to take care of them all. When Jim was 12 his father limped through the front door covered in blood. The irishman could still remember his mother shrieks as she saw her husband's figure stumble into the kitchen. HIs father had grabbed his arm and pulled him outside into the garden. A black car was waiting in the driveway. Moriarty senior pushed his young son into the back seat and told the waiting driver to move. Jim was confused but alert. He watched carefully as the roads and trees flew past the car. He noted the sun's position in the sky and determined the were moving east, towards the coast then. The two men in the front of the car were talking in hushed voices. It was difficult for the young boy to hear over the sound of the purring engine but he focussed with all his will. He was able to make out what was being said.
'It's over Jim, the empire is falling. They know who you are and they are coming for you.' The strangers rough course voice cracked.
'It's not bloody over until I say it is!' His father's agitated response came. 'We'll find another supplier. How much are police asking for? I've got enough in my account to pay them off surely.'
'You'll have to break into the boys university funds. We all know how much you want him to get a good education.' Jim was shocked. He had no idea that his father even cared for him let alone put money aside.
'Bloody hell. Fine. Use the cash. Pay them off. Silence those who won't be bought.' The car fell into a heavy silence. His father was the villain. Not the hero he'd always dreamed of. The gunpowder, used for crime and not for justice.
'And what about me?' Jim heard his own shaking voice break through the silence.
'Excuse me?' His father sounded livid. The usual slur from the alcohol was ever-present. Jim almost regretted speaking up but the adrenaline that spiked through his body gave him the courage to continue.
'I said. What about me? Why did you bring me? Why on earth would you let me hear your plans?' His voice was steady this time. He gave his father a smirk as the elder man contorted in his seat to look at the young boy.
'You hold your tongue boy! I brought you because you will take over from me one day and it's about time you learnt the family trade. First rule, respect your elders. Take that look off your face.' Jim nodded quietly and let himself get lost in his mind.
HIs mind was a beautiful place. It was structured like a spider's web. Jim had always been fascinated my the complex structures of spider webs. It was so fine and fragile yet so strong simultaneously. Each join in his mind's web held a memory or useful fact. It was a technique he'd learned after his insane level of intelligence had begun to break him. He'd been left with constant headaches as he tried to process all the information the world threw at him every second of the day. It was tiresome always noticing what perfume someone was wearing, or how many dogs they owned or the state of their marriage. No one else understood the onslaught that he faced every single day. Yet his father's job had managed to escape him. He'd been too buried in his own fantasies that he didn't see the truth. Never again he swore to himself. He quickly updated all the knowledge he had on his father and analysed the facts once more. The constant bulge in the inside of his father's jacket. Not a police badge but a gun. A gun that his father had thrown into the back seat along with his son. A gun that sat in the pockets of a beige jacket next to him now.
Jim's eyes snapped open. His fingers were already unzipping the inside pocket. His father had turned on the radio and the sound Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody crackled through the speakers. He would never forget that song for the rest of his days.
'Second rule.' He spoke loudly over the harmonies of the rock group. 'Never leave your gun where someone else can get it.' His father began to turn to look at him when Jim shot him through the head. The car screeched to a halt and his father's assistant began to shout at the young irishman. 'You leave my University fund as it is. You tell whoever is threatening the empire that my father is dead. HIs boss shot him when he discovered the empire had been compromised. You will empty your own funds to pay off the police, if that's not enough then you will empty the funds of every person who works for my father. After that I want a list of every person working for me and their next of kin, including your family. I will sort this now. If you ever mention my name or my father's ever again I will not hesitate to shoot you.'
Jim marvelled at the power he felt as he wielded the cold metal. The words fell from his mouth without much thought. Jim Moriarty had been born for this. The car continued to move and the young irishman smiled in the darkness as the scent of blood permeated the air.
'Jim!' A voice pulled him from the memory. He blinked a couple of times as he returned to the base of the apple tree on the mossy grass. 'I thought I'd lost you for good then. Been calling you for 5 minutes. We're late for class.'
'My apologies Seb. I was just remembering the day I killed my father.' He grinned at the tall sandy haired boy. A deep scar was etched into his cheek. Jim hated the scar. It was a reminder of his failings. 'The day I should have killed yours too.'
Sebastian Moran was the son of the stranger in the car that day. Sebastian's father had been useful in restoring the empire back to it's former glory but he was too unpredictable and volatile. Jim quickly became friends with the younger Moran as he visited the household for business meetings. Soon enough Sebastian was carrying out smaller tasks instead of his father. He was reliable and a good fighter. He had learnt how to shoot as a small boy, a skill that served Jim well. Jim soon lost use for Sebastian's father as the sandy-haired boy took on more important jobs in the empire. When the elder Moran discovered who was replacing him he lashed out. He smashed his son's head into a glass table. The incident had left Sebastian scarred for life. His father suffered a worse fate though. He was thrown to Jim's enemies to torture. A mole told Jim that Moran had begged to die for hours before he was eventually left to rot at the bottom of a river.
'I told you not to worry about it. It's my war wound. The girls think it's hot anyway.' The blond laughed and winked at the shorter man.
Jim felt his heart ache. He'd always found Sebastian attractive. The man was also quite smart, which was a compliment coming from the irishman. As a 12 year old Jim had admired Sebastian's intuition and ability to carry out complex tasks. As a 20 year old Jim couldn't help but find Sebastian's devotion and dark humour incredibly alluring. Yet the man had never seemed to return Jim's feelings. He'd gained a reputation at their university. He'd slept with most of the cheerleaders and ballet dancers at the school. They were attracted to his bad boy attitude. Jim had received similar attention when they'd first started at the university. However, the irishman had made it quite clear that he was not interested. He turned the girls, and a few guys, away with sharp remarks and deductions about their families. One small red-head girl had been persistent and even found Jim's talents of observation attractive. Jim soon manage to arrange to get her out of the picture. She had been tragically killed by a drunk driver at a crossing. The driver was now serving time in jail, punishment for bodging up a drugs deal in Serbia. A win win situation for Moriarty. Jim followed Sebastian across the grass towards the aged buildings. He wished desperately that he could reach out and hold the Englishman's hand. He laughed darkly to himself. Ironic wasn't it. Jim controlled an entire network of criminals, lawyers, doctors, soldiers, Government officials and police officers. He could get anything he wanted. Yet his best friend alluded him. He just couldn't figure a way to express his interest. Dating was alien to him. The last girl who seriously wanted to date him ended up as road kill.
'I've got to get to the sports hall. I'll meeet you after your lab?' Seb's voice once again cut through his thoughts. He focussed his eyes on the blond and nodded. Seb ruffled his hair and sauntered off in the direction of the Gym. Jim took a moment to admire the taller man's behind. It was firm and nicely shaped. The jean's Seb was wearing really emphasised the alluring nature. Jim was thankful that his friend spent so much time in the sports hall for his degree. It did wonders for the blond's figure. Jim felt his cheeks heat up slightly as his overactive imagination took over for a second. He gulped and pushed all thought's of his friend out of his head and slipped into the Chemistry lab.
The experiment was an easy one as always. Jim's hand worked quickly and efficiently, measuring and mixing chemicals with ease. The comforting scent of the Bunsen burner filled the small laboratory. The menial tasks left his brain free to think which was not what Jim had wanted. He needed a distraction from his friend's appealing arse and muscular arms. He decided to formulate a plan to win over the blond. He dove into the spider web in his mind, gathering all information he had on couples. He focussed more on the successful couples in his mind data. Coffee dates seemed to be a good way to start, or cinema dates if one didn't want to deal with awkward silence. Jim knew he'd have to be careful not to turn the date into a business meeting. So maybe start with dinner and a film. However, he didn't want to turn Seb away by the event being too much like a date. He refused to lose his friend. Maybe he should try and be more affectionate before suggesting the film. He knew his friend enjoyed action films and war films. He made a note to browse what films were currently in the cinema. He'd seen one advertised called American Psycho. He thought maybe Seb would find the irony amusing but he'd best look for another option just in case. Then what sort of dinner should they have. It was common to go for Italian food when out on a date but he knew that Sebastian was fond of a good steak or pie and chips. Pub food might take the edge off the date. Jim knew he'd prefer a good bowl of Italian pasta or well-cooked sea bass to bangers and mash but this date was for Seb. Pub food it was then. They could go the Fox and the Hound pub. The students normally avoided that one as it was a bit on the pricey side. Jim grinned. The plan was set. He just had to finalise a film but he could discuss that with Sebastian.
The brunet quickly finished up with his experiment and left the lab. He'd write up his report later when he didn't have more important things to think about. He checked his phone. He had 3 missed calls from Bartley. He debated calling him back in case there was something that needed his attention. He decided against it and dialled the number for Porter instead.
'Porter. I want a list of any good war or action films out in the cinema films in my inbox in the next 5 minutes. Don't disappoint me.' He snapped into the phone using a New York accent as usual.
'Yes sir.' The startled response came. Then he hung up quickly. Moriarty knew he request was an odd one but nevertheless it was important to his sanity. He grinned a little at the use of 'sir'. Apart from Sebastian none of his employees knew his name. He had learnt from his father's mistake. So he was known as 'Boss' or 'Sir'. It had served him well for 8 years. Seb was still in his practical at the sports hall so he made he way towards the other end of Campus to meet his friend. His phone beeped to signify that he had a text.
I recommend the film Gladiator, Sir. It has very good reviews. - Porter
That wasn't a list. Moriarty sighed. Porter was a good worker. It would pain him to hurt Porter. Instructions had to be followed precisely though.
There is also The Patriot, Sir. They are the only war/action film currently showing. - Porter
The second text came faster than the first. Jim laughed. Porter had clearly realised his mistake. Perhaps a milder punishment was required. He sent a quick text to Franklin.
Porter's wife. I want her purse. Pick-pocket only. No harm is to come to the lady.
A small but harmless reminder to carry out his orders precisely. No one could accuse Jim of not being merciful at times. He only killed when necessary, or when he had a really bad day. It was rare that he pulled the trigger himself these days though.
Yes Boss. - Franklin
Moriarty let out a giggle. He did love being in charge.
'Care to share the joke?' Seb's rough voice came up from behind him. Jim startled slightly but grinned as he saw his friend approach.
'Just the idiots at work.' He responded in his sing-song accent. An accent that only Sebastian had heard since the night he shot his father. His lecturers and peers thought that he was from north Wales. For his employees he varied his accent. Sometimes he put on an American accent. Other times he was Russian. Once he put on a posh south English accent in true James Bond style.
'Let me guess. Carl?' The blond smirked. Carl was always messing up orders, but he had his uses. Whenever Jim needed someone expendable for a job that would inevitably end up with the employee in jail, Carl was the man.
'Good guess, but no cigar. Porter.' Seb looked surprised at this. Porter was one of the smarter flies in the network.
'Porter? You're not going to get rid of him are you?' Seb seemed concerned. Porter and Bartley were two of the most important people in the network. Jim chuckled at his friend's concern.
'Not today, Seb. Just a small swipe of pockets to remind him not to get lazy.' He made the mistake of meeting Sebastian's eyes. He was momentarily hypnotised by the soft emerald orbs that were looking at him. He felt the blood rush to his cheeks as he hastily broke eye contact. He heard Sebastian laugh softly.
'Good plan, Boss.' Jim smiled fondly up at his friend.
'I know. By the way. Seb. Do want to go see Gladiator with me tonight? I thought we could grab dinner at the Fox and the Hound after.' The words fell quickly out of his mouth as he tried not to stammer over the words. The time it took for his friend to respond felt like eternity. He couldn't help but hold his breath as the handsome blond opened his mouth to speak.