CH.1: The New Routine
Be silent and breathe steady, echoed through my thoughts as I crouched in the darkness. It would seem I have abnormally good night vision, so, even in the near darkness of the rafters above the storage building, I could see my bounty clear as day. In and out, I told myself as I readied my camera. Now, the drugs are in position! I clicked the button on my camera. A blinding flash illuminated the area, driving away the shadows that had previously kept my presence secret. The drug dealer and my targets heads jerked to the source of the disturbance. My mark shouted in shock as his puny eyes landed on me, noticing the human-shaped smudge in the darkness. The dealer grabbed his goods with shaking hands and attempted escape, the target hot on his heels.
I allowed a slightly smug smile to curve on my lips. I pulled my weapon of choice from my hip holster, feeling the familiar weight and coolness of the handle curve into my hand. I took aim at the retreating figures and lightly tapped the trigger. BANG! I didn't bother with a silencer for such an easy job. A figure went down without so much as a grunt. The other panicked, tripping over the others limp body and trying crawl away like a stupid girl in a horror movie.
I easily jumped from my perch in the rafters down onto some cargo boxes, picking my way down as graceful as a jungle cat. Upon reaching the bottom, I charged toward my target like a mad dog. The man's beady eyes widened in fear, rolled up in the back of their sockets, and he went still.
I stopped short of my target and the dealer, disbelief making my mind numb. I padded over to my bounty and checked his vitals. I snickered under my breath, "Out f_ cold. How can he call himself a man?" I turn him over and cuff him, doing the same to his pimp. I check his neck for the impact point. I smirk at the reddening bruise adorning the back of his neck. That was going to hurt like hell when he woke up.
You see, because I'm a "hull them in" type of girl, and am rarely reduced to kill, I use a splat gun* and little balloons full of sleep powder instead of a real gun and bullets. If I do get into a situation where some serious violence is necessary, I fight bare-handed… or with a pipe. Really whatever's available? On this run I had a client whose husband was acting strange. Originally I thought it was just as unfaithful spouse case, hence the camera. After stalking him for a few days, I found that the case was a lot more than I initially thought. No, it was a lot more illegal than that. It was all the same to me. The more scum I pick up, the more they pay me. And with the photographic evidence, jailing them would be a snap.
I clipped them to a nearby pole, and searched them for anything that might help them escape when they came to. Coming up empty handed, I made a quick call to the cops. After a short scolding from the chief for not bringing any backup, he rumbled in his too-deep voice that they were on the way, for me to go home and that they'd pay me when I showed up at work. Pleased with myself, I slung my bag over my shoulder, fixed my dirty blonde hair, and trotted away, humming a merry little tune. "This is gonna be a good week for you Thourn," I told myself in a sing-song voice. Damn was I way off.
Perhaps this is a little late, but my name is C.J Thourn, 17 years old. Occupation: Private Detective. And loving it.
The next day started out like most other Sunday mornings. I got up, fed my tabby Leftover, (No I didn't feed him leftovers, his name was Leftover.) and ate my own breakfast. Only this morning was an exceptionally beautiful one, so I decided to take a walk. Raise your hand if you can figure out why that was a bad idea. Anyways, I pulled on my usual outfit; a burnt orange V-neck T with my brown long-sleeves jacket that cut off at mid-torso, a long and baggy pair of black cargos, and of course my favorite pair of dark gray combat boots. In the bathroom glanced at the mirror. Large, honey brown eyes set into a slightly angular face glanced back at me. I pulled my shoulder length and slightly spiky dirty blonde hair into its uniform loose braid. Finally, I put on my hat. Not just any hat, my hat. The hat Ni-san gave my before he…. I shook my head as soon as the pain induced by that thought entered. No need to ruin the day so early in the morning. The old hat somewhat resembled a classic policeman's eight-point cap, but it was soft with age, the sharp corners long since worn dull.
Having completed my usual ritual of dressing, I slung my bag over my shoulder as I strode out the door. I never went anywhere without it. I strolled down the cracking pavement of the road, figuring there was no sidewalk to walk on. I already knew exactly where I wanted to go. Very near to my crib* there was an old (but still in use) rec center with a little park and basket ball court with rusting hoops on opposing sides. Beyond the center and play mat* was a small pit for bonfires that I'd never seen used and, a ways further, a forest that really more like a woods it was so small, with dirt bike trails veining through it. All of it set in clearing just behind the great white water tower. However, it was none of these places that I wanted to go. Up near the left-hand corner of the clearing, a little ways up from the bonfire pit, was small grove of trees, surrounded by bamboo-like weeds. On the side of the grove facing the woods, away from the playground, was a narrow opening into the grove. Inside, there were really only about 3 widely spaced trees, so there was plenty of room. The ground was littered with leaves so that it was almost like a mat on the ground. With the large opening looking up to the sky it was lovely, and my favorite place to relax.
One of the trees had an abandoned animal burrow snuggled right up at its base. Under some dead leaves, I kept a dark brown water-tight box hidden amongst the tree roots. It had few pencils, lots of paper and erasers, and box of colored pencils. You know, in case I manage to draw something worth coloring. Each pencil was brand new and untouched.
I leaned against a tree, pencil and notebook in hand, and started doodling whatever the hell came to mind. After a few squiggled caricatures and a very crappy squirrel in a cape eating a flaming taco, I got bored and just decided to watch clouds. Unfortunately, this was the longest drought on record, so the sky was endlessly blue. At some point in my futile search for a cloud, however small, I drifted to sleep.
I awoke to a poke in the face. Expecting some neighborhood kid I knew, I cracked an eye growled a warning to the offender. "If you value your life, you'll walk away. Right. Now." But it was not familiar face that I had expected. Before me was a total stranger. And given my history and occupation, I was just a wee bit paranoid. The one who crouched before me was a young man, rather tall, thin, and very pale. He wore what seems to be a red and brown waistcoat, white pants, and, for reasons beyond me, a large pocket-watch on a chain. Glancing him over again, I noted that he had clock not only on a chain, but that the theme repeated throughout his entire outfit. His tie, shoes, and coat where all clock themed. But, it was not his attire that I found strange, but his own features. He had rather large, slightly pale red eyes behind circular spectacles, and silvery white, strait hair. And… what the hell where those things on his head!
His bizarre appearance was only one of the factors that led me to my next action. Before he could reply to my previous threat, my hand shot up, as if on its own accord, and conked him hard on the nose. I bolted to my feet as he doubled over, holding his nose in pain and swearing. A pang of guilt flashed through my mind as I warily eyed the man. At least I got a better look at the things on his head. They seemed to be long, white rabbit ears…WTF. Maybe he's just some lost guy who was on his way to a costume party.
I lean down a bit, hand outstretched cautiously. "Um, hey there." He jumped at the sound of my voice, red eyes wide. "No, wait! I sorry I hit you. You just surprised me, that's all." I say quickly as I offer him my hand. He gives me a look and gets up by himself. I don't blame him.
Standing up, he was a lot taller than me. Then again, I'm 5 ft. 12", so most average height men look really tall to me. He adjusted his glasses, still looking at me, as if he were trying to read me like a book. "I was just going to ask where I might find Miss. Thourn." He said slowly. My ears perked. "You mean C.J Thourn?" I ask with a skeptical eye. He perked up,"Yes! Do you know where I might find her?" My hand was already on the knife I keep in my pocket. "Speaking," I stated casually. His eyebrows hit his hairline. Then he cracked a grin. "Oh, you're Miss. Thourn? My apologies for my earlier rudeness. Please walk with me, I have a job for you." And with that, he turned and walked towards the woods briskly. Startled, I had to run to try and catch up with him. Damn, he was fast. "Please hurry Ms. Thourn, we don't want to be late." He called back to me. "Wait, late for wh-, "I was cut short as my next step never connected with the ground. Instead, I was sent tumbling down into darkness. I don't know how long I was falling before I blacked out, but the last thing I heard was a voice echoing in my mind. Now, your game begins C.J.