It was really difficult to produce this chapter since I was not sure where should I go with the story; plus I was busy fighting with some assholes at work and home.
Sure, you will find several grammatical mistakes but this is how far I can go in this department. So I apologize in advance. Yet, please tell me what you think of the logic of the interaction between our boys and their characterization. I need your opinion so I can figure out how I should proceed with the story.
On my Watch
Part II
While tracing the invisible footsteps of the night cat and mouse, Blake was grateful for the cool rain that was kind enough to sooth his burning face; yet soaking him damp. His mind drifted back to another, but more genuine, act of kindness that he was at its receiving end. He recalled the young agent crouching beside him with a caring hand on his shoulder. He pictured the look of concern on the man's face that shifted to one of determination when he urged him to chase after their target. "Stupid kid!" He whispered before considering the origin of this comment. Was it because how nice Jayden was acting toward someone who, obviously, did not welcome him, or because he turned his back on a street criminal? He did not bother to determine the cause and neglected the passing thought.
After some guessing and help from the inhabitants of the covered market who were yet to forget the chaos that left wreckage in its wake, Blake reached the meat cooler. Heavy thuds interrupted only by breathless curses advised him to pull his gun from its holster, and he did. The veteran cop concluded that one was beating the shit out of the other and his money was on the tough thug. With a sly smile, he walked in but was surprised to find the weaker-looking man beating the stronger-looking one with a meat hook – his early smile remained but changed into an amused one. As he approached the rampant man while tucking his gun back, he noticed Jayden spiting what looked like blood before he cursed again and carried on with his task. 'Like some bad-ass cop, are we?' He mentally taunted.
Somewhere on the boarders of his absent mind, Jayden could hear approaching footsteps but he ignored them since he was delivering the beating of his life to the man beneath who had stopped groaning long ago. He could had reasoned that he was being approached by another enemy but logic was long kicked out in favor of primitive rage. "It seems you're on a roll today! Can't have enough after the first taste?" He heard the sick joke being delivered with the familiar sick sneer. It was then that the frenzy agent spared his motionless victim the insensible strikes and looked toward the teaser. Agonizingly, a fresh wound had just been pried open.
For Jayden, the way Blake was casually mocking a man's death and praising human brutality made him sick of the man and himself. At that moment, the senior cop was a tempting devil celebrating the corruption of another human soul with the deadly sin of wrath. As if one mortal sin was not enough to curse a soul for all eternity, that damned devil was now tossing him into abyssal despair. Feeling impending doom upon him, he gritted his teeth with bitter loath directed at the human demon and shouted hoarsely, "Shut up Blake!" – The metal hook was pointing threateningly with the resolve of a repentant craving forgiveness.
Blake was usually the one threatening and pointing things at others but now a typically arrogant FBI kid was trying to steal his role - he hated this; very much actually. The early fun turned ashen by blazing madness that, yet, was not allowed to melt his icy façade. Locking dark eyes with a pair of frenetic ones, he approached Jayden calmly but menacingly, closing the distance between them. He stopped, briefly eyeing the shaky man for a moment before casting a board glance at the metal bar. He acted fast and swift; at least for the other man to react in time.
One quick blink cost Jayden dearly when he felt his wrist twist painfully as the rough cop yanked the hook out of his hold before giving him a mild punch to the nose that sent him stumbling backward. It was not the fact that Blake had just punched him that caused blood to rush up his head with rage riding the red tide. In fact, it was the way the bullying man approached him unthreatened and casually took his weapon like a parent taking away a dangerous toy from a child. That damn Blake did not even acknowledge his manhood and refrained from delivering a full punch. His vision blurred red when he saw his assailant who was not even threatened looking away at the unconscious suspect. Mindlessly, he charged at the man in black.
Blake was observing Jayden's handiwork trying to calm his temper since he did not feel like beating the young man; not this evening at least. He succeeded partially when he threw the meat hook away trying to decline the invitation to crack Jayden's head open with it; after all it could be considered a "weapon of assault". However, the arrogant FBI agent did not support the anger management approach when he decided to ram him trying to tackle them both to the floor with his feather-like weight. 'He could use the lesson.' Blake decided before hammering Jayden's back with his elbow and then shoving him against the steel counter behind to start a torrent of hard sweet punches.
It was when Jayden stopped fighting back but, uselessly, kept trying to shield himself from the brute attack that Blake decided to stop. He preferred to continue his lesson later when his student was more 'attentive' to understand why one should not cross Let. Carter Blake. Besides, it would be easier to explain why Jayden had dark and bloody makeup if he was still conscious more than if the profiler and Korda were both unconscious. With that, he released his grip on the younger man's shirt and walked away. In the background, he could hear the beaten man slide down the counter before hitting the hard ground to rest there. Nevertheless, the older cop ignored him while approaching the still motionless Korda; cold handcuffs making their way to capture equally cold wrists.
Blake was done restraining the oblivious suspect when he noticed an out-of-place vial resting right from where he was crouching. Curious, he reached to the item, lifted it up and stood to examine it closely under the flickering light. Suspiciously, there was not a nametag or a label to provide a description of the tube content or indicate its source. Also, the sky-blue color of the powder did not give him much of a lead so he decided to use his smell sense to acquaint himself with the chemical inside. However, he was interrupted by a muffled call of his name coming from the man he had beaten minutes ago. He turned to Jayden and found him on his knees bent with abdominal pain that one hand was easing while another was stretching shakily in front. "Give it back!" He heard the frantic plea which he did not like its implication, neither that of the dreadful look that the agent was fixing on the item in question. "Mind telling me what's this?" Came the quiz question that Blake already doubted its yet-to-be-given answer.
'Shit! Shit!' His mind cried and continued its breathless chanting, 'Not Blake! Not now!' He could not afford the scandal and let the abusive lieutenant discover his dark little secret. Jayden tried to sound as calm as he could but wild anxiety failed the act. "It's Luminol. Give it back now!" He lied and hoped Blake would buy the clear bluff. "Do all hot-shot F.B.I. agents carry their Luminol? I thought that was the work of the forensics people." Blake seemed suspicious but at least he was buying it so the desperate addict carried on with the lie. "Some of us do." He replied and hoped that Blake would now return his precious drug. However, he realized he was wrong when the older cop sarcastically questioned, "I thought Luminol is white. Don't tell me you're experimenting with the chemical while the shit is still inside? ...and I thought you smarter than this…college-boy." He froze upon the comment and failed to notice the towering cop crouching and locking dark eyes with his reddening ones.
Hardly drawing air in, Jayden was stunned back to shameful reality when Blake spoke calmly but venomously, "I am a street cop Norman not some naïve desk jockey." He was waving the vial between their faces to emphasis the point. Upon seeing the seducing drug through a blurry shade, the distressed man reached with a trembling hand and tried to snatch the hostage drug – the older man had already discovered his destructive habit but at least he would deny him the luxury of 'concrete evidence'. Unfortunately, firm but swift was Blake's clutch when it closed around the fragile object shattering the glass tube along with his last hope for physical and mental relief. Through the haze of his drug-craving fit, he lowered his head and summoned little strength left to try and pry open the lieutenant's firm fist. It only required the older cop one rough slap to shatter the last of his crumpling will and send him lying on the floor before most-welcomed darkness obliged him wholeheartedly.
Being alone in a dark cooler isolated from the world outside while witnessing a fall from grace was something foreboding for Blake. Who would had thought that a classy-looking FBI agent, who was chosen of all to join such hot investigation, was nothing more than an addict yearning for pitiable sniff every time his nerves let him down. It reminded the older man of the curse of mankind relatively dignified existence that, in a glimpse, could become an inferior one; even to that of animals. Was he even immune to the curse? Sure he was not a saint who renounced cheap pleasures and relinquished human desires, but drugs were something different. As a veteran cop, he witnessed addicts giving up their money, career, family and the last shred of their dignity for this deadly siren. He came across many who gave up their bodies and even those of their little boys and girls for a dealer's pleasure in exchange for one sniff.
Sighing with surrender, he kneeled beside the motionless body checking his vitals; just in case his heart was silenced with the shock of losing his precious powder. With Jayden relatively fine, Blake placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and started shaking him up back to consciousness. With each futile shake and a call of name that fell on distant ears, the lieutenant's patience was loosing credit to his usual ill-tempered nature. The lack of response promoted him to shout Jayden's name and roughly jerk him repeatedly but to no avail. Blake stood up clutching his fist with frustrated anger that was denied release but only for a while. With disgusted and irritated kick to the rib, Blake rolled his oblivious partner on the back hissing, "Wake up, Druggi!"
Giving up on the sleeping agent, Blake shifted attention to the comatose suspect. "…as if one to drag wasn't enough!" He mocked in defeat. Weight-wise, it was relatively easier to drag Jayden's limb body instead of Korda's bulky one. Plus and once Jayden was awake, he could help him carry their suspect to the car since the poor thug would be out of commission for a long while. Yet, he was not going to sit and wait while the spoiled brat took his time to wake up. If Jayden wanted to be a sleeping beauty, Blake was willing to give him a dragon kiss that, sadly, would not bring him to the fluffy reality of a fairy tale but to a harsh one of addiction that he ensnared himself in long ago.
Blake kept wondering why he did not call for help instead of dragging the younger man throughout the covered market. Maybe he was not in a mood to explain something as complicate as the fact that their FBI profiler was "using", or could it be that he was trying to cover up for a partner? He did not know. 'Shit!' He cursed inwardly each time some shoppers eyed him warily as if he was some kidnaper, before spitting, "I am a cop!" Usually, he would flash his badge but both arms were busy encircling his partner chest while propping him up with his own. 'I'm sure I saw it somewhere.' He wondered trying to remember the location of the bathrooms he came across earlier. Hell could freeze over before he would ask for directions like a father taking his kid for an urgent piss during some family-shopping tour.
Blake's patience was wearing thin and he was about to drop the unconscious agent and kick the shit out of him till he was awake, instead of giving him the privilege of a, relatively, civilized splash of water. Luckily, he did not need to resolve to dear violence as the sought bathroom came in view not far away from where he was wondering. Needless to say, he renewed dragging his partner but not before roughly pulling him up to adjust his hold; an action that forced half moan from the manhandled agent who was not so numbed when it came to feeling the vice grip bruising his scrawny chest. "Quit your bitchy whining and help me carry your ass." He hissed annoyed but, of course, there was no reply from the addressee – he was not waiting for any to begin with.
Shoulder first, Blake rammed the bathrooms door open. Actually, he did not mind acting civilized and opening it with either hand only if both were not busy with a sleeping beauty to carry; not so beautifully. Better yet, he could had used Jayden's head to throw the door open just for the sake of punishing him but that would had made his effort for nothing; after all he was bringing him here to wake him up not to extend his beauty-sleep. Either way, the entry method did not matter anymore since they were already inside in front of the white wash basin.
Jayden was waking up gradually but he was still disoriented and overwhelmed by sheer sickness. He registered being dragged through muffled noises but only could see mingling waves of blackness that, awkwardly, shifted to eye-burning spotlights from time to time. He sensed his feet sweeping the floor heavily but they were still too weak to support his drained body. A strong hold encircled his ribcage, and caused him to moan when it briefly intensified. There was a rough bang before bright whiteness assaulted his unfocused eyes; but that was mild discomfort compared to having his back arched painfully against a cold rim before his head was shoved backward.
Blake could not help smiling slyly as he turned the water on and watched Jayden's eyes become alert by the sudden torrent pouring down his face. He enjoyed watching the restrained man coughing and thrashing for a release that he kept denying him with his firm hold. Once his revenge meter reached a satisfactory level and after noticing that Jayden's aimless thrashing turned into conscious resistance against the arms that held him down, Blake released him. He winced with mocking empathy when Jayden hit his forehead against the metal faucet in his desperate escape of the cold water; before sliding off and falling on four. With lowly amusement, he watched the young man struggling for breath before folding his arms and leaning against the wall to enjoy the show.
Ignorant of his surrounding, Jayden focused on leashing the wild gasps that threatened to tear his lungs apart. He closed his eyes to focus on the task at hand and he was relieved when his desperate inhales turned into rhythmical ones. He sat leaning his sore head backward and propping his arms behind to take on his weight while his muscles relaxed with the ecstasy of oxygen. For a moment, lazy eyes were lost in the white ceiling above while heavy ears were hypnotized with the melody of deep inhales and relieving exhales. Once oxygen dissolved the fog shrouding his brain, fleeting amnesia cleared, crowning his consciousness with the terrible truth. Fragmented memories of early events called one another to form the full picture in his mind – a gloomy one with grinning Blake holding a Triptocine vile in an act of divine judgment. Upon the realization, early trance was devastated with striking dread, throwing back his heart in breathless turmoil.
Eyes wide open, Jayden sat up straight only to have chilling electricity run down his spine upon seeing Blake in front. Time froze rendering his body stiffly mummified under the blank, yet deep, gaze of the man who unearthed his dark secret from its hidden burial. Hopelessness engulfed his existence and his tense posture slumped with inevitable surrender that cast his shamefully gaze downward. He was doomed with no redemption to follow even if he tried to beg the lieutenant to keep his dirty secret a secret – how could it be possible anyway if all that Blake wanted from the start was to remove him from the investigation and send him back where he came. A bitter man was given a golden chance to pluck an arrogant thorn from his side and, reasonably, he was not going to miss it. Tense fingers entangled in fists of helplessness while life-devoid eyes observed them absentmindedly.
Truth to be told, Blake was expecting Jayden to lash at him for roughly awakening him in such manner. His early anger at the man cooled upon seeing him setting in shame like a child who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He started feeling annoyed with the utter display of weakness coming from the man across. Now, Jayden was not only weak in front of his enslaving drug but in front of him as well – caught up in a cycle of never-ending weakness sustained by the curse of addiction. Frightening as it is, the fact that a respected and educated man such as Jayden had sunk this deep, while keeping a stable profession, still reminded Blake of the wicked spirit of deception lurking in the shadow of human interaction.
The tough street cop convinced himself that bulling people was his hoppy but not breaking them like this. Even if he was a sadistic son-of-a-bitch; which he is not, breaking an already broken stoner was no fun since, obviously, he did not become one if he was still worth breaking. He was sure that the hotshot FBI agent would give up the investigation if he blackmailed him but the image across killed his interest in such endeavor. But was it only this logic that settled his early anger or some unseen empathy toward a man who just had his pride shattered in front of an enemy? Could it be part of his reason to lose interest in the scandalous discovery? Sure, he was human after all not some horny devil who enjoyed cursing people. Sighing with faked boredom, he pushed himself away from the wall and turned walking toward the door. Not as if he was expecting footsteps to follow, he glanced backward impatiently and hissed with renewed anger, "Get your ass off! I'm not carrying Korda alone, got it!"
Jayden snapped his head in utter disbelieve. Of all scenarios he drew, he did not foresee Blake dropping the subject without bulling him to madness. Actually, 'bulling' was an understatement. He was sure that the aggressive lieutenant would had announced his addiction to everyone just to humiliate him before removing him from the Origami Killer's case. If not, he would had at least blackmailed him and forced him off the case silently. Was Blake going to pretend that nothing had happened and carry on with the investigation along with an addict profiler? Although it was hard to believe, confused relief washed over him and he felt hope had not abandoned him entirely.
It was silent gratefulness that drove him to childishly obey when Blake's shouted impatiently, "Com'on!" Jayden stood up in haste that caused him to wonder whether Blake had ill intentions behind this nice gesture of support. Could it be that the sly man is trying to bind him in fear with an unspoken blackmail? Was Blake merely toying with him and trying to imprison him with heavy shackles of fear? Anger at self and the older man ignited within but it cooled down once a more reasonable thought presented itself. Blake was a straightforward man; the type who charges head on without deep or complicated strategy. Mind games and psychological manipulation was beyond a man with such flammable temper. Most likely, Blake lacked the evidence and that was the reason behind his dumping of the whole incident, but at least he would had teased. Plus, was not Blake the one who deliberately destroyed this evidence? Everything was pointing out toward one conclusion: Blake was acting nice which was even beyond implausible.
It was confusing and Jayden hate confusion more than anything so he decided to get it over with. He found himself chasing after the older man who had already exited the bathroom. "Blake!" He shouted and was rewarded with inpatient acknowledgment from the man ahead who was accommodating enough to stop and look over his shoulder. "Aren't you going to say anything?" Words left his mouth too quickly but there was no reply and not even a change in the addressee's facial expression which prompted Jayden to pursue the matter even further. "Aren't you going to ruin me and get me off your precious case?" He shouted throwing his hands in frustration resulting from bitter uncertainty. "Do you want me to?" Came the frozen statement before Blake turned to face him fully and continued, "If you do, I'll be happy to oblige you and call some snoopy paparazzi."
Blake's dark and cold expression masked a truth that was hidden deep even from him. It irritated him not to be able to pin point his motivation and Jayden was making it worse with his girly demand for emotional disclosure. "No, but it just not like you to…" He did not wait to hear Jayden's flimsy justification and cut him off hissing with irritation, "And what's it exactly like me? You think you know everything, don't ya'?" He did not give him a chance to answer but closed the distance between them to, mockingly, pat the younger man on the check as he continued, "Don't worry sweetheart, I am no snitch. So be a good boy and continue sniffing like the junkie you are. I don't care, and I doubt that the Origami Killer will spare you his spotlight; not for a sec." With a sneer, he walked away from the speechless man but looked behind to add, "But don't sniff your shit in front of me cuz next time you pass out like some Disney princess…you won't be waking up so nicely," before he continued walking away.
Jayden thought that confronting Blake would had elevated the cloud of confusion that ruled over his mind but it served only to darken it further. The lieutenant's lack of interest was surprising but did he really know the man to foresee his reactions? Clearly, he was stereotyping him based on their earlier shallow interactions. He was disgusted with this alien judgmental trait that he used to believe he was above it thanks to his vast knowledge in human psyche. 'Judgmental addict…I wonder where it puts me!' He sadly smiled with the irony of his situation. It would had been less humiliating if Blake decided to make a public announcement down the station disclosing his addictive habit. He wished so since the burden of being judgmental and frail addict was unbearable – it would not had shattered something as redeemable as people respect but his own self-respect. Blankly and for the lack of a better thing to do, his feet followed the older man in silent defeat brought down by a revelation of his own inferiority.
TBC