We were on our way to the parking lot of the shooting range where our motorcycles were parked. Well, they were more like 'his' than 'our' since I did not have any vehicles with me when I moved in. And to lend me one of his, I was able to see what was inside one of the twin private garage under the room number.
Remember the first time I was at the apartment's parking lots, I only saw the room number because the garage doors were closed for private only. This time he opened one of the twin, and to be honest, I almost fainted when I saw all those magnificent motorcycles parked inside. They dazzled. One of them was a black BMW K1600GT, and the other was a red Ducati XDiavel S. Seriously, I had no idea what this guy do for living, and I did not care enough to do any digging. Well, I could have been dead by now if I did it.
Luckily, right now, I was still alive, and he was going to treat me lunch and dinner because I beat him in the challenge! I could not believe it happened, but it did! And I was still too high on the adrenaline to think what actually happened. Or maybe, it had already gone back down.
I put my right hand on the seat of the black bike and noticed an odd red bump on my right middle finger beside the middle knuckle. The burn was from the friction when I shoot the gun, but it looked very familiar like I've seen this type of bump on someone. Where did I see it?
I peeked at Jason's hand and found the similar bump. So that was where I had seen it, I concluded to myself. I paused a second to realize that that was his left hand, but he just used his right hand to... Oooh...
"May I see your hands?" I asked for permission.
"Is there something on my hands?" he rephrased the question, flipping his hands front and back.
At first, I thought it was the way he writes that caused the bump, but at closer inspection, there was already a writing bump on his right hand near the top knuckle.
Well, if he was trained to be able to shoot with both hands accurately which seem to be more likely in this scenario, there was no way I could beat him in this game.
"Thank you," I said, positioning myself on the bike.
"What for?" Jason replied innocently, getting on his red bike.
"Thank you for letting me win," I completed the sentence.
"Why would I let you win?"
"I don't know. That's the most and only reasonable answer I've got."
"Answer to what question?" he puzzled, without giving it a second thought. I did not answer until he paused for a second, examining his hands, and continued, "No, don't answer. I got it. But, still. A deal is a deal. Where do you want go for lunch?"
"I don't know. You should be more familiar with this place than I am."
"Not really."
"Maybe drive around and choose a place that's open."
"Sure," he replied. "Also, here," he tossed something to me, a wireless earphone with mic. "Wear it, so we can talk easier."
"Why didn't you give me this earlier before we left the apartment? We were shouting at each other to get here."
"That's why I'm giving you this, now, so we don't have to shout along the road."
I checked it out, and the strange design seemed to be custom made. "Is it turned on?"
"Yeah. Just put it on."
I put it on and tested it. "Hello? Can you hear me?"
"Yup, loud and clear," he replied.
I looked at him where the ear piece should be, and I could barely see anything. It must have been designed to look invisible! That was cool. "Is this one of the things you use at work?"
"Yeah."
"I didn't know a private investigator would have such a cool gadget," I said ironically.
"I didn't know a financial consultant could fire a kill shot more than fifty meters away with a Glock," he commented with the same affection.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
We put on our helmets and hit the road.
"So, what do you actually know from looking at my hands? I just need to know, so we're on the same page," he spoke, after a moment of silence.
I recalled the scenes. It was true when he said, 'that's pure luck,' because that was really my lucky shot. I was not even confident with that. I presumed, he expected me not to make it, too. However maybe, he wanted a draw, so he could adjust the deal to something else. In conclusion, he purposely shoot the bullet outside the circle.
"You can shoot with both of your hands, so you're a probably a professional shooter. Just think of it like this, a professional shooter versus an amateur shooter. Who do you think will win? Obviously, the professional one, unless that person let you win. Am I right?" I answered eventually.
"Let's suppose, you are. What made you think, I'm a professional shooter?"
"I don't have to answer that question."
"'I don't want to know anyway, if it would get me killed, and I'm too sleepy to bother anyway,'"he recreated the identical scene that happened a couple weeks ago when I first moved in.
"Wait, I said 'anyway' twice?"
"Yup, you did."
"Oh, my god! This is so embarrassing. I could jump off this cliff, right now." In front of us was a turn of a coast road, if I really did want to, I could speed off the edge.
"Go on. Just don't speed off and take my bike with you. It's expensive," he said, as we turned.
"How did you know what I was thinking?"
"You're supposed to be speechless by now."
"You're the one who's imagining my lovely, beautiful voice."
"Ha! That doesn't work."
"What?! Why not?"
"You're not suppose to make it actually dark. That's why there's the word 'humor' behind it."
"But you cracked, so that's count."
He did not argue and even chuckled. "Well, how does Japanese buffet sound?" he suggested a while later.
"Is it far from here?"
"Nah. Look at your one o'clock."
"Oh, sure!"
He drifted into the parking lot, and I followed him.
Our lunch lasted about a hour and a half. It was only a bit of a walk from the restaurant to where our bike parked, but I started to breath heavily. I had to admit that I maximized my capacity of handling food; even though, I needed not to.
"Jason, could you slow down a bit?" I asked with my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath from the walk.
"Is there something wrong?"
"I'm out of breath," I answered, sitting down on the near by bench with my head falling back.
"Out of breath?"
"Yeah, I ate a bit too much, and now I'm feeling sick."
"Are you sure that, that's 'a bit' too much?" he commented, placing himself next to me.
"No, it might be a little more than a bit."
He stared into my eyes for clarification.
"Fine, it's a lot more than I should eat. But they're good, I don't regret eating them. Well, I'm regretting a bit, right now."
He nodded slightly, after hearing what he wanted to listen.
I sat silently, breathing for minutes.
"Better?"
"Yeah, thanks," I replied, standing up.
"You're welcome," he continued, walking at a slower pace. "Do you want to go anywhere after this?"
"I don't really know about Gotham much, so I don't really know where to go next. Maybe, if you want to, you can show me some good part of Gotham. I don't usually hear any good rumors back at home."
"Well, you're in luck. I know Gotham like the back of my hand, and I'll tell you, no matter how rare it can be, there are good parts in Gotham."
"Lucky me to meet such a decent person here. Really. I have no idea what type of person I should be expecting."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome." I stood next to the motorcycle, and put on the ear piece and helmet.
"Let's go home first, and come back out again later," he suggest from the mic.
"That works for me."
We speeded down the empty road until we got caught in the traffic light at the bridge to enter Downtown of Gotham. Compared this to the Uptown bridge I used to get here from home, this was even more ridiculous.
Since we had been waiting for a couple minutes after being tangled at the same red light after the other, I started up a conversation to pass the time. "Is it going to be rude of me, if I ask a personal question?"
"No, we'll eventually get there, anyway."
"I mean, not in a flirtatious way, you are one stunning man."
"Thank you," he cut in between.
"You're welcome. I know you want to keep your profile low, but it's also almost a month. And, I've never seen you with a woman, or a man."
"Well, you work in the morning, so you won't actually see anyone when I actually brought them home, right?"
"Then, you must be very good at cleaning up because I don't see any evidence of them, too."
"That's my job, but well, I actually haven't brought anyone home. I'm on a break."
"I'm sorry."
"No, it's fine. I'm never in a real deep relationship. Never could, and probably never will."
"Why not?"
"I don't know. It usually ended up pretty bad with them being tangled with my work, and if they're already are, it just goes worse... Might be that. What about you?"
"Well, I kind of got fed up with relationship. There's just too many sacrifices to be made, and I guess, I'm just not up for it. But, I do have a long term relationship with my work."
"Well, I can't deny that either," he finished, and at last, the light turned green. And it was long enough for us to pass the traffic.
Soon, we got home tiredly after our patience had been tested. Sometimes, it made me wondered why there was so much traffic in Gotham, but the answers were obvious.
He opened the room, and I followed. "Crap! This room is cold..." I yelped, entering the living room. I dashed to the heat controller at the wall above the dinning table. As the conditioner let out the heated air, I sighed with relief. "You're not cold?"
He shrugged like it did not bother him at all and paced pass me to unlock his room.
"Don't forget my dinner," I sang, before he was going to slip into the room.
"I thought, you said you were extremely full an hour ago." He took a glance at his watch and continued, "Literally, and you're thinking of eating again?"
"That was an hour ago," I claimed shamelessly.
"TT." He clicked his tongue in amusement, but then, his expression changed as if he did something wrong. "Damn, that brat is rubbing off me," he murmured but I could still hear clearly.
I wondered which brat he meant, but I did not say it out loud.
"Well, I won't. It's part of the deal. Be ready in three hours. I'll take you to the 'good part' of Gotham."
"I can't wait!"
Two hours and a half later, my head was dangling off the sofa with my legs over the backrest, looking at the T.V. upside down and trying very hard to defeat the one of the ganon.
Jason came out of his room at last and really did not like the state I was in, "Sit properly!"
He sounded like my dad for a second. Maybe be it was because of their job that gave them the tone, but I had grown not to be scared of it. "I'm trying to look at things from different perspective!"
He came right over and grabbed my red console, and I quickly sat up with my hands after it. By the time I retrieved it, the familiar sound effect played and I had to start over again.
"Man, you suck," he commented.
I pouted and pushed my back against the backrest, where it was meant to be used for. "Well, that's because someone interrupted me!"
"Nah, I don't think so. You've been at it for a while, now." He reached out for my console and checked the weapons I had. "Fine, I'll take it back... You're worse."
I gasped, "My, God! You're so mean!"
"I know."
I tried to get back at him, "I beat you in shooting."
"You didn't."
"You lost the bet."
"Well, I did, but I'm making the most out of it. Why do you think I took you to a buffet rather than a normal restaurant?"
"Argh! You're like one of those people that ace everything! Don't you dare say, you were meant to be."
"I am meant to be," he claimed with a victorious grin.
I narrowed my eyes at him and grumbled, "You little punk. I won't let you belittle me anymore! Let's get my dinner, and we'll see if you can live up to what you propose."
"Well, then. What are we waiting for?"
He took out the black motorcycle and made me sit on the pillion because 'it was easier that way.' It took me awhile to accept how close we had to be after the small argument at the apartment, but he wavered me by mentioning the time and said we were going to miss it if I did not make a decision.
And, that was what led me on the bike that was driving up the hill and shaking because of the rocky road. I really was not sure if he was taking me to a 'good place' on Earth or another dimension after he shoot me in the head... Oh, look, the sun was setting. Maybe, I could get my last chance to see the sunset before I died deep in the forest where no one would disturb me.
After a little while longer, he stopped at the top of the isolated hill. I got off the vehicle and stared at the view of the ocean that was turning red because of the light and the tiny city far away behind me. Also, not to mention, the gorgeous view of the sun descending into the water was just memorizing. I might not mind dying here.
Well, at the very least, I befriended my murderer before I died. One thing off my bucket list that I never knew I had.
I closed my eyes as I heard his footsteps approached and prepared for the worst. I guessed, this was what I should have thought of before agreeing with a Ghost.
I sensed his arms over my shoulders and then... a soft fabric around me?
"Keep warm. We're going to stay here for a while," he uttered. "Pretty, isn't it?"
"Oh, yeah. Thanks," I responded, still wondering what would happen next.
"You seem tensed. Are you cold?"
"No, no. I'm fine. I'm more than comfortable... Take the shot whenever you want. I'm ready, if that will make you feel better."
"What?"
"I don't know... You're a Ghost. You barely leave any mark of existence here. Also, we only got to know each other today, and you brought me to this beautiful isolated place with rich soil. What do you think, I'll think?"
"You think I brought you here to kill you?"
"Well, you're a nice guy, but that doesn't mean you're not a psychopath," I reasoned defensively.
"Oh, come on! There's like a-hundred-and-three ways of killing you without taking you all the way up here."
"I know, but maybe, you felt bad for me. And, I might have earned the luxury of seeing this place before I die over the last ten hours we talked to each other."
"Okay, fine. Your logic makes sense, but that doesn't mean it's true."
"It's not?"
"Hell, no! You're a perfectly good human being. Why would I do that?"
"I mean, you might be a psy-."
"I'm not a psychopath," he cut in.
"Everyone says that."
He looked so done at me and crossed his legs on the grass. "Fine. I'll kill you later. Now, shut up and come down here."
I listened and sat down at the spot beside him.
"Here," he passed me a sandwich.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Maybe, there was poison in it. Well, how terrible could it be to die like that? I unwrapped it and took a bite. I did not expect the jalapenõ and choked a little, but all was fine. Weird.
"It's hot," I remarked.
"Excuse me. It's called season to perfection, unlike your bland ham-and-cheese between two slices of bread."
"It's called sandwich, but I wasn't complaining. Do you have any water?"
"No, but I got some coffee in the thermal."
"Coffee? It's almost dark. What do you have to do at night that you need coffee to stay awake?"
"A lot."
"Right," I realized, I should not have asked the question.
"So, do you still want it?"
"Sure, if you don't have anything else."
He poured the drink in a paper cup. Upon receiving, the heat reminded me of my frozen finger tips, but the thought soon vanished after holding on to it.
I made myself comfortable and watched the sun sinking into the sea and the sky turning dark blue. I sat there patiently as the stars shone brighter and the temperature got lower, but I felt fine with the warm blanket.
Then, I looked over to him and wondered, "Do you have another blanket?"
"No. Is it getting too cold for you?"
"No, I'm fine. I just thought you might be cold."
"Heh. I've gone through worse," he flicked it off his shoulder.
I shuffled the blanket to the end of one side and invited warmly, "But, you don't have to bear with it. We've got plenty to share."
"Aww, you're just making it harder to kill you," he stated without accepting the invitation.
"I'm not, but I figured you won't kill me anytime soon," I told him and forced the extended blanket over his shoulder.
He did not reject it, but countered jokingly, "Well, what gives? The fact that I said I wasn't, am not, and won't kill you? Ha, no, that was not obvious at all!"
"It was a plausible circumstance!"
"Do I look that psychotic?"
"Have you never seen yourself in the mirror?" I joked, before giving him the actual reason, "You said it yourself this morning, 'It's just the appearance that counts.'"
"You really took it seriously, huh."
"Of course!"
"You didn't have to."
"No, I wanted to. (You're the only one I know that lives in Gotham, and if I wanted to survive here, your credibility have just gone off the roof.)"
"Hmm," he sounded, looking out to the view where the light pollution could not touch, and rested his head on mine. He jolted up after realizing his action and apologized, "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."
"No, no, it's fine." I budged closer to him and placed my head on his shoulder. "Now, we're even."
I yawned, gazing at the clock from my bed. It read ten to seven, just about time to get ready for work. Er... no. I went back to bed for another ten minutes until the alarm went off.
Not until then, was I ready to begin my day. I jumped off the bed and snatched a towel on my way out. I quickly tied my hair up like usual and grabbed a mug of oral products off the shelves.
"Snap!" I heard, seconds before my hair covered up all my back again. Another hair elastic band broken. Why was I not surprised?
I crouched down to pick up the remains, but I also noticed a small square slightly dented into the wall next to the bathtub. I was curious to what it was and tried pressing it randomly. Suddenly, the top part levered, and a polished hand gun revealed itself.
A hand gun in the bathroom... Paranoid, much?
Well, anyway, what choice did I have to react to this new information?
A. Scream away
B. Ignore it
C. Try to ignore it; even though, I might not be able to
I went with 'C' because it seemed to be the most plausible reaction I would actually do.
I pushed the lever back to its place and ignored it until I found another similar dent on one of the shower's tiles. I guessed, I might not be able to tone down my curiosity after all. I pressed on it as well. However this time, the tile bounced back and became a small door into an insulated space with a container of blue silica gel. There was no gun inside apparently, but there was a good amount of throwing knifes.
They were identical to the one I saw on my first visit. I believed, all of the weapons were for protection, but how much could one needs in a bathroom? Maybe, it was only me that found it too many for this tiny room.
I went to the kitchen to get some cereals. I pulled out two boxes from the cabinet and pushed them back in once I had what I need. Fascinatingly, the two similar boxes would not sit equally. I tried pushing it in harder, but it seemed like something was in the way behind the box.
I climbed up the counter and shuffled the boxes out of the way. I reached in and felt a long, staff-like object. I pulled it out and brushed off the week old of dust. It was a katana. A beautiful one.
I smiled at it and placed it back to its original place. It was not mine, but that did not mean I could not admire it with a smile.- Oh, shit!
It took me long enough to realize that I had made a huge mistake.
Everything was recently cleaned! The handgun was polished. The silica gel inside the trap door was still blue. However, the katana was partly covered with dust which meant it should be next in line to be cleaned. And I just brushed off the dust on it!
Oh, my God! I should not feel this much trouble, but I was feeling it.
Think, Andy, think! What could you do right now? You could not put the dust back where it was, and that was for sure. You could apologize and say you accidentally saw it. Maybe, but would he just accept it? What if I give him an excuse if he asked?- I could not think of any reasonable one.
My God! He would probably think someone, his enemy, got into his domain which was in a way, true. I was someone, but, hell, I was not a threat!
Should I just play above suspicion, now, until he realized something was off? I was not sure, but that was what I wanted to do the most: ignoring everything and let it be on its own. So, I ended up doing so, trying to tell myself it would be alright. Even if, I knew whole-heartedly, it was probably not.
I quickly suited up to work, keeping myself from overthinking and taking a step away from the situation. By the time I got back home, I told myself, 'If he found out, how bad can it be? We're in good terms, and everything's been fine between us. How bad can it be?'
I opened the door and entered the dim living room. Over the lack of light inside, I could see him standing clearly out at the balcony. He was watching the city under him with a roll of cigarette from an old, beaten-up package.
I closed the door behind me, and he turned toward me after the lock sounded. No word was exchanged between us because his gaze already said it all.
I paced to him and greeted normally, "Hello, Jason!"
"Hi," he responded and put the cigarette out on the metal rail.
"How are you?" I continued.
"Oh, cut the crap! Tell me, who are you?"
The words, he spoke so nonchalantly, sent chills down my spine. Was this a normal feeling for someone to have under an interrogation? If so, what should I be answe-
"C'mon. What's your real name?"
I jumped when he interrupted my thoughts. It was like my body was overreacting to everything around me; even though, I did not have to be. "Andrea Albertsons."
"Bullshit."
One word left his mouth, and I could not force myself to back away fast enough. It felt like I was breaking something very important between us.
"Who send you here?"
"I brought myself here, but I'm regretting it right now," I remained true to my statement. Even though, I still stepped backward every time he came closer. Until, I hit the couch and stumbled on to it. I could not back out any further, so I stopped the retreat and sat up straight.
With his shadow overcasting me and the cold eyes staring at mine, he called me out again, "Lies!"
However the word did not cause all my hair to stand like the others, this time it boiled the blood under my skin. I had done many wrongs in my life, and I would never deny it, if I was at fault. In this, I was not. I stepped on the couch and faced him, "Excuse me! If that's 'crap', then it's 'bullshit', and this's 'lies'! What the hell am I doing here, getting yelled by you and still keeping your secrets?!"
I knew my face was burning, but I would never let a single drop of tear run down my cheeks. Not until he toned down his negativity on me or I left this place.
Suddenly, his arms slipped around my waist and held me tight. "I'm sorry."
"Jason, what the hell!" I tried pushing him away, but I cracked. Tears started pouring out, and I barely had any strength left in me.
"Last night," he began, burying his face on me, "I trusted you. Today, I thought you betrayed it... I'm sorry."
"Oh, hell no! I'd never do that!" I burst and hugged him back.
Why was my bed so firm? When did I even go to bed?
I had not opened my eyes, but I tried recalling what happened. I remembered, I was talking to Jason, but that was it.
Oh, shit! Did I pass out from crying again? I guessed, I had been bottling up too much for the past few months, and when I got to let something out, I just let everything out.
Then, out of nowhere, I heard a rhythmical sound. It was almost like pulse.- Wait, pulse?!
My closed eyes were, now, wide opened. I pushed myself up with my hands on his shoulders and looked down at his face.
"Good morning," he said casually.
I stared blankly at him, trying to make sense oh what happened. Why was I on top of him? Why was he under me? Why were we on the couch?
Then, his face became increasingly concerning as we sat up, and I acknowledged that I must say something before it was too lat-
He grabbed my shoulders and pondered, "Hey, are you okay?"
"Oh! I'm fine, I'm fine. Good morning to you too!"
"Fuck me, are you sure?"
I quickly nodded.
"Fucking hell," he exclaimed in relief. "I thought I broke you! You cried for hours!"
I titled my head to the side a little to question.
"What?" he grumbled, not in the mood to guess what I wanted to ask.
"I cried for hours?"
"Yeah! And at one point, you talked about the melted ice-cream on the street, and how sad it was for the delicious thing!"
"No way! I can't possibly be that out of my mind. I might have bottled up a lot of things, but not this!"
"... Maybe, you're right... I might have dreamt it. It's such a blur, but man, that was a good dream compared to the usual."
"What's worse than dreaming about me crying over melted ice-cream?"
"Dreaming about the same thing too many times. That's the worst. At one point, you just don't know if it's actually happening or not."
Even though, he was laughing at it; the tone of voice he used was so dark, I could not bear to remain on the topic.
I created an entirely different subject after a small pause, "So, I know you're a Ghost, but what do you actually do that you have to hide all these weapons around the house?"
"Well, if I tell you, I got to kill you... I thought you didn't want to die."
"Then, you don't have to tell me. I'll guess and you can just shake your head if it's not it, or not react to any of it at all! Therefore, if you're not technically telling me anything, you don't get to kill me."
"Now, you're just playing around because you know I won't kill you for no good reason."
With what he said, he just admitted that knowing his occupation was not a good enough reason to make someone dead and gave me a playground.
My face was up to no good after realizing it, and I casually questioned, "F.B.I? C.I.A? Undercover?"
"None of the above."
"Yeah, I thought so. You don't seem like someone that will take orders that well."
"Excuse me!" he objected.
"Sorry! Bubble thoughts!" I excused myself and ran off to work.
At the first look she had of me, Ms. Harper almost demanded me to go home. I would say her radar on human state had always been surprisingly sensitive. I might not look so much like shit after hours of crying last night with these makeup on, but the crying part did worn me down a little.
Maybe, she picked up the little tired part of me because I was always an over-energetic person at work but I was not entirely that on the day. Anyway, I told her not to worry about it; however, I still ended up not working because the City Alarm went off.
It was a normal procedure in Gotham whenever a rogue appeared. Everyone was meant to take the staircase down to the main floor where we must remain inside unless there was a second alarm where we had to evacuate the building. We also had these small emergency package from Wayne Enterprise that was required for every person at work to have at their reach. It was considered of a collapsible gas mask, an oxygen tube, an ear plug, a battery-free riddle searcher, and a hand-free, one-step, free-size shoes for running that came in a form of folded, flat hexagon.
I found the last one the most intriguing. It was adapted from an innovation many years ago of a hand-free, shoe covers. Now, it had been upgraded to replace people's dress shoes in emergency.
On my way to the main floor, something exposed outside. Luckily, the stairwell of this building was huge on natural light, and I could see everything that was happening across the street from the windows.
It seemed like a rogue robbed the bank and took over a theater next to it as a hostage. I was not sure which dumb criminal would be doing two things at the same time until a henchman with a clown mask walked out to guard the door.
"Who the fuck let the Joker out again this time?! I got too much work on my desk to put up with all this shit!" a co-worker of mine snarled and stomped down the stairs in tiresome.
I kept my eyes outside. This was my first City Alarm experience, but I knew as the matter of fact, if there was Joker, there would be Red Hood.
I waited a few moment, and the sky suddenly darken. So dark, it did not seem like the crime was happening in the morning. Then, Batman appeared out of nowhere as a glimpse before he entered the typical-looking bank with numbers of pillars and a busted dome from the explosion.
What the heck? How did the sky gets this dark? I did not know Batman had magical power to turn day into night... So dramatic.
Not long later, Red Hood showed up, but he did not do anything in anyway to help Batman. He was just watching from the top of the opened dome of the building. It also seemed like nobody noticed he was there from their view on the ground.
Well, except me, I was the idiot protagonist that stayed on the stairwell between the fourth and fifth floor to see it happening.
After another while, Batman jumped to the theater next to the bank. Maybe, there was some negotiation, and Batman chose to same the hundred of lives in the building instead of capturing the rogue. Red Hood did not look pleased from my view. He was shaking his head, shaking his head a lot. Once Batman was out of sight, Red Hood interfered, and I could no longer see anything from the view I had of the buildings' exterior.
For the next two hours, I was sitting on the crowded floor of the lobby, doing nothing. It was by law that we had to wait until the police released us by coming door to door in person and a group of three. I acknowledged that it was a safety procedure, but hell, that was boring. At least, it was over.
I walked back home with the daylight returned to the sky. It was truly odd how Batman turned the sky dark, but no one ever had the chance to question him as always. Well, it was not like anyone would care to ask. He was Batman, and that was already one great reason and to the point.
Hmm... Mom would be thrilled to heard about this.
Once I was in the house, I instantly skipped to my room and striped into my pajamas. I called Mom and told her all the maniac event that I went through. I also mentioned about the 'good place' that actually exist in Gotham and complimented how good my roommate had been to me, without speaking about the misunderstanding, him and his killer vibe yesterday.
"That better not be a date, Andy," Mom commented.
"What? Mom! No! We're friends!"
"You didn't have to shout," I could hear a smug from her through the phone.
"Mom, no. Seriously, we're just friends."
"Yeah, yeah," she agreed in disbelief.
"Well, you know, what. He's good-looking, smart, nice and mysterious. If we're really dating, what can you do about it?"
"I wouldn't do anything about it anyway. He looks like a decent guy.-"
"That's what you said to every single person I told you about."
"Well, what can I say? You've never gone full-on punk and hippy with me. As long as they are a good person and you're happy, I'm fine with anyone on the spectrum. Anyway, I heard 'mysterious'. That's new."
"Yeah."
"Doesn't seem like you want to talk about it."
"No, not really. It kinda hurt my know-it-all reputation, you know."
Then, she paused and returned, "I got to take this call. It's probably another meeting."
"Oh, okay! Bye! Love you."
"Bye, Darling! Love you, too."
The next morning, I was at the kitchen like usual, preparing my own breakfast. I heard a rattling sound at the door, so I opened it, knowing the person was probably Jason.
He was surprised to see me and retrieved his keycard from the door pad. The action of pulling his hand away put my attention to it, and I noticed the scratches and bruise on his knuckles. There was also a cut on his lips, but he did not look beat up. It looked more like he beat someone up.
"Oh, hello, my dear roommate!" he greeted with an unusual delightedness and properness.
"Well, hello to you, too, my dear friend!" I reflected the unusual and let him in.
"Fucking shit! That was awful!"
"Agreed. Hearing the word 'dear' from you gives me goosebumps."
"Yeah. Ridiculously, out of place."
"Mm-hmm... So, you got into a fight?" I inquired out of curiosity, while he was taking off his shoes.
"Yeah, a bit."
"Do you need help with bandages?" I quested, putting my dishes away.
"Nah, I'm fine."
"Alright, then."
As I was cleaning up my mess, I detected a tiny crack on the white-marbled counter top paralleled to the side line of the sink. I quickly washed up and pressed on it.
He saw me around it and warned, "Don't you dare press on it."
"But... I already did it before you told me not to."
He sighed and came over. Instead of pushing it down to close, he pulled it up.
The slot raised up as tall as the depth of the sink, and once it was fully above, the two shelves inside it titled for easy access. The top was full of magazines, and the bottom was full of different types of knives.
"Wow, that's a lot more knives than I thought there should be in the kitchen," I babbled.
"Keep talking," he threatened.
I stopped.
"You see, these six knives are from all around the universe. Some of them have rare poisons in it, while some of them are already deadly on its own because of what it's made of. And, these are bullets. You already know what's it made of and it's potential. Now, I'll let you chose your poison. Choose wisely, and you might live."
My lips twisted as I played his game. "Heh, I thought you were going to go harder on me."
"So, you've already decided?"
"Well, of course."
"What will it be then, my dear?"
"Oh, the cringe!"
"I'll take what I can get."
"Well." I grabbed one thing out and placed it in his hand with my life on the line.
"I guess, you're living another day, Andrea," he stated and put the magazine away since it only had the potential but could do nothing without a gun. He smiled and patted me twice on the shoulder.
Before he left, I caught his wrist. "Wait, now, you're killing me alive. What do you mean when you said these knives are from all around the universe?"
"Like I said, 'I'll take what I can get'," he smirked, torturing me.
"That's sadistic."
"Well, that's more like me than a psychopath... but still not it. I'm really not into those type of thing, y'know."
"Oh, please! Come on! At least, tell me why you have any of these?"
"I'm prepared for zombie apocalypse," he answered, foreseeing that it would not satisfy my curiosity.
"Oh, damn you! There's a reason why it called apocalypse! It meant to be a final destruction. There's no way anyone could survive it!'
"I will."
"Oh, hell no! After what you've done today? I swear, I'll be the one that bite you!"
"You can try."
With his wrist in my hand, I pulled him closer. I stepped in between his arms and titled my head to press my lips on his neck.
The moment I realized what I did, I felt a short, high-voltage electricity circuited all across my body. I had to take a step away. I crossed my arms with a hand to my mouth to keep my hands from shaking. I could not even look at him, but I caught glimpses of his action.
He was looking away as well with a hand covering his neck and the other on his face. His ears were so red, it was hard not to notice.
My, God, Andy! What had you done to this man? To yourself? How far had you gone to prove a point?
I wanted to scram as fast as possible, but I had already done so much to make the point. I told him slowly and cooly, so I would not have to do it again, "I know you let your guard down around me. I just want to point it out that, that kiss could have been a bite. I didn't mean to put us... you know... in this situation."
"Mm-hmm. Understood," he nodded but still was not looking at me.
I quickly made my way around him to get away from the narrow path and ran to work, so I could mistaken my racing-heart as something that normally happened during excerises. However, the distance was too short, and I ended up running around the outside of the building twice like a mad lady on heels to kill the tension inside me.
At least, all the feelings finally disappeared when I clocked in and seated on my comfortable rolling chair. Although after work, it returned when I knew I was going to see him at home.
I tried to prolong the walk as much as possible, and as I approached the door to the apartment, I chanted, reminding myself, "I'm an adult. I've already owned up what I did. I told him, I was proving my point. He understood... Then, why the hell am I blushing like a teenager in front of my own house? I can't even make myself walk inside! I understand that kissing someone's neck was not an unordinary thing to do, but no normal person would have done it to their roommate!"
I paced back and forth upon frustration until the door clicked.
"What the fuck are you doing outside?" he complained with a book in his hand.
"Umm... I-"
"You know what, I don't really care. I'm in the middle of this book, it's good, and hearing you stomping around the door is annoying!"
He showed me the cover, but I did not have enough language skills to read the title.
"Oh, right," he smirked and leaned against the opened door, "You don't even know what language is it." He returned to the book and fluently read the foreign language out loud to mock me.
I shoved the book to his face out of envious. "Nerd," I remarked as I pushed him aside to get in.
"Admit it, you're jealous because I can do what you can't," he asserted without taking his eyes off the book.
I dug into my bag to find something practical and threw a lipstick and a mascara one right after the other like a dart.
He caught the lipstick, but the mascara hit him right on his forehead.
"Ow! What the hell? Where did the other one come from?"
"You wouldn't see it because it was right behind the lipstick, but you could've caught it, if you weren't in hurry to act cool and mic drop my lipstick!"
"What? I was gonna give it back to you!" he victimized himself.
"You weren't."
"Ah, screw it," he ranted and walked away after he placed my makeups on top of a cabinet where he could reach, but I could not.
"Oh, damn you, Jason!" Then, I remenbered, "Actually, I'm just gonna put on my dirty heels I used to run around the building twice today, climb the beautiful, shinny, white-marbled countertop with it, and bring some dust down with me from the top of the cabinets while I get my stuff."
After listening to my threat, he shuffled back to spot and returned the stuff in my hand. Although he did not stop there, he also pointed out, "Bold of you to assume that there's dust on top of the cabinets."
I shook my head, but I could not argue with him about that. He was the reason this apartment was spotless, it made a normal room like mine looked dirty.
Anyway once I was settled, it was time to get my dinner. I walked around quietly at the kitchen, so I would not disturb him on his reading.
He seemed to really enjoy it. Honestly, at first, I thought the book shelves were decorative because almost half of it was in different languages and part of it had an odd collection of Margret Atwood. Recalling from my memories, her works were strongly on women's perspective and liberal feminism, which truly surprised me when the condition of the books showed me that he had read them at least twice. It was also fascinating to me that I have not seen these details because I never took him as someone who would spend their down time reading until now, but I should not have judged the book by its hard cover to begin with.
"Oh, shit! I'm late!" he suddenly erupted the peace and put the book down. He ran to his room and picked up a blue duffel bag before he rushed out. Then, he rushed back in and took the book with him before he left with a silent wave at me.
I waved back, but he probably did not see it. To think of it, in contrast of me, he dealt with rush splendidly. Hopefully one day, I could pick up the skills; even though, I liked the calmness I acquired all the time.
Now, back to the meal, I opened the fridge, and there was barely anything. Well, except vegetables. Salad, it had to be then.
My, God, I was not even that broke yet.
I gobbled it up in no time, but something was still lacking. Something sweet, so I decided to pop by at the convenience store a block away. It was on the opposite direct of the grocery store I used to go; therefore, the street was quite safer to walk in the evening. Well, it was not so much better with a creepy, old, abandoned flat on the way, but there was more lights and middle-classed people compared to the other side.
At the store, I bought myself a quart of strawberry ice-cream, and the clerk gave me a bunch of plastic spoons I did not need. I just wanted to leave and go home, so I said nothing. I walked fast and even faster in front of the abandoned place. Who knew maybe it could be haun-
"Aahhhhhhh!" I screamed after something landed on my head and dropped in front of me. I was not hurt, but I was terrified. It was a stuffed bunny. That was creepy enough, and it was even creepier when I knew it fell from the haunted flat.
Holy shit! My legs froze, while I tried to make a step forward. Then, I heard something climbing down the tall building, and I held my ice-cream tighter. I was not even dared to look at what caused the sound
I sensed the thing stopped behind me, and a small child dressed in dirty cloth came to my sight and picked it up.
Fuck! Was I really seeing this? A ghost?! A real one?!
"I'm sorry. I dropped Mister Bunny on you," it said.
I nodded slowly, trying to use my brain. Then, it made eye contact at something next to me. I turned to look at the something subtly, and my legs gave away when I saw the red helmet.
"Oh, hey! We meet again," he said cheerily.
I was shook and turned to the child. "Tha-that's a child?"
"Er, yeah?"
"Not a fragment of my imagination, or something a haunted flat produce?"
"No."
"Oh, my God!" I gradually recovered and patted the road crumbs off my clothes as I stood up. "Ha, I really thought I've been played by ghosts and monsters," I mumbled.
"You're okay?"
"Pfft, yeah! It was just a stuffed doll... How've you been?"
"Pretty good. You?"
"Just fine. But, what were you both doing here?"
"We sleep here," the kid answered.
"You two?" I pitied. The place looked awful.
"C'mon, now, Kid. Go inside. It's getting cold," he interrupted.
The kid skipped into the dark building like it was a beautiful sanctuary; however, to me, it was everything but.
"You live here?" I puzzled.
"No, it's just a place."
"Hmm," I tried to make out the whole flat in the dark, but it did not make me less skeptical about the living condition.
"It's better inside than it looks. At least, it's warm for the kids."
"Kids? There's more than one?"
He gave me no response. I figured they were probably the runaways that could not go to the orphanage due to laws and was left homeless, so he took them under his wings. As someone that could kill a person without hesitation, he was one giant, murderous teddy bear.
"So, what are you now? The Bat that hoard kids around?" I joked since Gothamites liked to give their Dark Knights creative titles.
"I dare you to say that again."
"Alright. As long as, you're not using them as child labor."
"Of course, not!"
"I thought so, you killed too many of them to be one."
He groaned and changed the topic, "So, you're not from around here right? How's it been in Gotham?"
"It been great! I got mugged once, that you already know. My work here is paying decently, and I'm lucky to get a good roommate near my work place," I answered, shuffling the plastic bag in my hand to bring out the ice-cream. I gave him a spoon.
He hesitated but took it anyway, before continuing, "You've got a roommate?"
He had to take off his helmet, but the hooded part of his jacket and the dim light from the street did not give me a hint of his face.
I scooped a spoonful of the creamy sugar and replied, "Yeah, it was hard to get a place to stay here that's affordable for a new worker, but I'm thriving. My roommate also had the price so low, it's too good to be true, which it was. It's like he's trying to stay under the radar, or something."
"You knew, and you stayed?"
"Yeah, he's a good guy, and-"
