Chapter 2: Chapter 1 but Eridan is talking now
August 8, 1925
As if shit couldn't get any worse for me, I had to make a run for it. I was being followed closely by some torpedo(1)s. Taking some quick turns into an ally way, I was able to sneak past those buff buffoons. I watched as they stopped at the dead end I lead them to, wondering where I went. I observed from a crack in the wall from the other side. Fools. You can't get any good work these days, can you? I thought I was at least going to be challenged a little bit. Instead more of my precious time was wasted on dragging these loons around like lost children at the park. I must not waste anymore. I take myself back to the main sidewalk as if I wasn't being chased around earlier.
My lucky necklace watch was comfortable in my coat pocket. It was given to me by my own father on my 13th birthday. The watch was cased in copper and gold with the chain being as long as the length of my arm. The back of it had the Aquarius symbol carved into the metal. Nothing bad has happened to me while I had this watch at hand. Now it isn't the most scientific conclusion, yet I fail to be aware of any other reason.
The time was 6:45 am; just early enough for the milkman to make his way towards the neighborhoods down the street from the main city in his cute little car. I don't understand who would want to put that disgusting substance in their stomach. That liquid is only good for Joe and nothing more. Those men do have their work cut out for them at the very least.
The street was mostly barren as most typical folk would still be sleeping or having breakfast with their families. The rest of the city would be fully awake in a couple of minutes. A perfect opportunity to cross without worrying about some low life beeping at me.
I found myself going back and forth between home and the station every Saturday. It was one of the requirements in my job: Export and import important files, meet with the higher ups, strike deals, ect. Rinse and repeat every week and you got yourself a pretty good idea of what my life is like. Sounds dull, but it is rather exciting. The only thing I dislike is doing all the filing myself. I would much rather have an excuse to go from California to DC during the weekend than stay at some crummy old warehouse shredding documents.
Speaking of files, I have quite a few in this case I'm carrying. I took every lock I owned and forced it on this poor defenseless thing. If this were to land in the wrong hands I would be done for. Literally dead. Sleeping with the fishes. Pushing up daisies! No way in hell am I even going to let people look in my direction. If they come near me they will receive a well deserved slap in the face. I don't normally flash my gun out in public but I will if it is necessary.
I also have a...side job, which I rather not go into too much detail. Let's just say it requires a disguise other men would view as "tasteless"; I've grown quite fond of it personally. My coworkers are much nicer there than at my main workplace. They are also a lot prettier than the old cranky scarred veterans who wave around their masculinity like it's a badge of honor.
Enough about that tired subject. I instead take the time to admire the structure of the station. It is just as beautiful, if not more, as the last time I was in it. The train ride itself was usually a luxurious experience. I don't know, something about just simply wandering into the station filled me with joyous anticipation. It felt like a little kid skipping around in an amusement park waiting to get on their favorite ride.
Before I knew it, I was ready to aboard the train. I always rode in first class no matter what. There is no way you would convince me to ride with those low life poor folk. They are always coughing, wheezing, sneezing—ugh! I could vomit from the thought of it alone. It was unfair for me, a highly respected individual, to suffer such a ride. It is better to ride in style than not at all. I've grew up with that philosophy.
I couldn't help but feel like someone was watching me. I was already used to having eyes on me; either from what I usually wear or my…"night job", yet something felt very unsettling. Was I being stalked? Before I could turn around to see who had their eyes on me, some dewdropper stepped right on my wardrobe. The DISRESPECT. Like a drunken elephant balancing on an idiot wagon, I fell face first onto the train floor.
It was only after the train door finally closed that I realized my hand was void from any object. I desperately looked around. There wasn't a single sign of the suitcase anywhere. I caught a glimpse from the window. A chubby short man with a trench coat on ran off with the case and snuck onto a completely different train. Who does he work for? The government perhaps?
Ah shit. What am I supposed to do now? Not only is the suitcase with the files in it missing, but I lost it in the most moronic way possible! What am I going to tell my boss? "Oh sorry Boss, someone stepped on my robe and I tripped while a fatass ran off with the files." I realized though that I still had the keys to the locks right in my trouser pocket. Dumbass. Unless whatever organization he works for has a decent locksmith, there would be no way he would get that bloody thing open.
Whatever. Something tells me it won't be the last time I'll be seeing him. The train is scheduled to go from California to New York, but I would have to stop at Washington DC before getting onto another train. I decided it would be best to begin my search for this man there. My family owns a condo in DC anyway, which staying there would be cheaper than renting a hotel room.
If I am lucky, I will see him tonight.
Torpedo: A hired hitman