[7:25 PM]

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The buzz of the flickering neon lights of the Blackstone Motel had disturbed the ambient silence of the night. My hands were shoved into the front-pockets of my jacket and face-fully zipped up. It was one of those jacket plus mask bundles, perfect for the winters that’d hit, and perfect for warmer climates as it hadn’t been quite bulky or stock-full of things to keep it warm.

It was the best bet at keeping my identity hidden. Though, best bet if I didn’t remember him, he didn’t know who I was either. From a distance I could spot him entering his room. He was drunkenly dragging himself out from his car, gut bouncing around, as he waggled his keys around before stammering into his motel. I could almost smell the stench of alcohol from yards away.

It was best to walk forward, yet, I didn’t. There was something off about everything. I took another second, watching as the light flickered on the motel lights, before I noticed something moving in the back of his van. It was brief, but I could make out what seemed to be a shadow pass by the already tinted windows of the van’s back doors. All before there was a sudden bang, as if whoever was inside had rolled over or slammed their body against the door. It was low, especially at the distance, but if I could hear it- then surely the drunk geezer could as well. Guesses turned into verification as he walked outside, strutting over to the back of the van to pull the doors open and reveal a woman. Young, nearing the end of her teen years with long blonde hair, and by her posture she looked as if she had been out of it- as if with either step she was going to collapse onto the ground from delirium. He took from her spot, hoisting her onto her feet and moving her toward the hotel room. She was out of it, drowsy, and yet she showed resistance. Not much of it though, her arms seemed to almost be liquid by how she fought back as they just dropped by to her sides. Even if he didn’t know anything about the situation, it didn’t matter, it was another act moment.

I approached the door, just in time to hear shushing from the man and murmured protest from the woman. I knocked.

“Hey, room service!” I exclaimed, tapping against the door of the motel room loudly. He didn’t seem to like that, not one bit as I could hear him moving off from the bed, creaking the mattress as he did it to approach the door in a disgruntled fashion to come and pry it open– stopping it at just the length that the chain-lock would allow.

I could tell he had been judging me. He looked dizzy too, but the kind of dizzy that only a bottle can give. Giving me the aggravated lazy eye as if I had just interrupted him in the middle of something important. He was suspicious for obvious reasons, a masked man in a hoodie calling himself to be room service, even a drunk man wouldn’t have believed that.

“Stop with the pranks. Scram kid.” He coughed out, mouth reeking of liquor. “It’s late. No one has time for this shit, go before I need to call the cops on you fer’ loiterin’.” He warned, though, it was accompanied by a bit of irritated unease having to stare at my masked face. He tried to push the door close, but my hand intercepted the door to catch it before it slammed fully shut. Much to the dismay of the drunk man, who began showing visible struggle in an attempt to challenge my hold.

I raised my head a bit, peeking into the room as he struggled to get a look around. I could see the blonde girl that he had escorted into the room, tossing on her bed. She had built up a sweat, she seemed sick by the looks of it, as if she was fighting a cold in her delirious state of mind and audibly groaned, gripping the sheets of the bed.

“Who’s the woman?” I asked, nudging my head to the side. At that point, he seemed unnerved. His attempt to push the door close had shifted and instead he lunged his arm out to push me. I stumbled back, with the door slamming loudly.

“It’s none of your business! Scram already!” His muffled voice screamed from the other side of the door, I could hear him beating on it as if he was trying to reinforce the message by attempting to intimidate me with the show of force. I could hear him, this time, he wasn’t going back to the lady. He was pacing around, almost scurrying around for something. I could only think that I had been waiting for a bit too long, and now, I didn’t want to exactly wait for it any longer.

So, I lunged my hand forward, gripped on the handle… and pulled. I pulled so hard on the door that the metal handle of the door had dented in my grip as with one pull I found myself capable of halfway bringing the door through the frame and off its hinges before pushing it forward to fully tear the thing off. The man screamed in shock.

“What in the hell?!” He exclaimed, just as I dropped the door by the entrance and walked toward the woman. She gave me a look, her face still seemed sick, and now at close her white skin was red-hot and almost seeming to burn. She flashed me with the most intoxicated smile, almost drooling with hands stretching out to me, almost like a baby or child seeing their mother. She had been happy to see me? Well, it would make sense, except for the fact I was some masked guy she had never seen before. Nevertheless, I felt inclined to squat down to her side as I approached.

“Ma’am, you’ll be alright. I’ll get you some help.” I assured, trying to keep her feeling a bit more giddy rather than glum. I stood, approaching where I could hear the gang member scrambling with something. “Hey, I need to ask you something–”

Kah-chiik.

I felt my breath tighten as I stared down the barrel of a cocked shotgun. All my blood pumped as every ounce of adrenaline within me immediately flowed throughout my body like a flood. My thoughts settled, and all I could hear echoing throughout the deepest reaches of my mind as I looked at him pull down the trigger was a unanimous, Duck. I dropped to a squat, the shot missing but the sound of the gunfire echoing throughout my eardrums, and if not for the adrenaline I could tell it would’ve stunned me. He seemed much the same way, momentarily set off by the blast of his own firearm but willing to cock his gun again and go for another pull of the trigger.

I lunged forward before he got that opportunity, the speed at how I reacted before he managed to fire. One hand had latched onto the gun and brought it upwards, causing him to fire another shot into the ceiling. My other hand pushed out, shoving him backwards and releasing his control over the gun and sending him onto his ass. The lady had been startled by the sound of the gunshots, holding her hands to her ears as she seemed to be drying to drown out the ringing sound. I adjusted to it quite readily, though I doubted the drunkard had the same speed of recovery, so I decided to show him something to snap him into shape. He had already been thinking that I was a monster by the fear in his eyes, so why not test it a bit more?

I grabbed the sides of his gun, and bent the metal muzzle and grip. I could see the fear when he both heard and saw me bending the steel, rearranging the firearm until the muzzle faced the butt of the gun before I dropped it onto the ground by his feet. He seemed weaselly enough, the fear on his face was something disgusting. It was something so disconcerting about seeing their eyes beading as if they were praying for their lives with a single look. That terror. I hated seeing it. Though, I could tell it was the only way he’d react in the way I needed him to. I needed to intimidate him more, so I took a lesson from those cop shows– grabbing him by the collar and pulling him close.

“Now, I’ll be asking you a couple of questions. You’ll answer. You a lowlife that goes around kidnapping kids? You do that for that little gang of yours, earn a couple of bucks and then ya’ use it drugging teen girls?!” I screamed, shoving him against the wall of the motel room. I could tell I didn’t have enough time, I needed to get him talking now. Now that the ringing was over, I could hear people. A couple people in the other rooms, distressed after hearing the second shot. I shouldn’t have let him try to go for another, now my time was cut in severely before someone would decide to either call the police or check up on the incident.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“ANSWER!” I demanded, slamming a fist into the wall and breaking into the concrete, narrowly missing his head. It was good I had been wearing the mask, or I fear he would’ve seen me sweating from the pressure of having to conduct an interrogation. I turned my head down to the ground, his eyes followed with mine as we both turned to the bent firearm. He couldn’t see my eyes, but from the way he reacted, it was as if I was subtly telling him “that’ll be you next” and he cracked.

“It was just some fucking kid! They wanted me to pick him up, said he’d be worth a couple and it was a limited offer. His mom was a bitch and the pay was good, so I went along with it! I got him when he was heading to school, little bastard. No one told me he was fucked up! Got his ass, and it nearly cost me a leg. You freaks are popping up like crazy now, j-just please leave me alone!” He screamed out, almost sobbing. Please, have a bit of dignity, I don't want to empathize with a child trafficker.

Wait, freak?

“Where did you send him to? Speak fast, or I’ll show you a freak!” I demanded, lifting the man into the air a bit higher by his collar. Max is a Key?

“I- They might be down by the pier, the supply station near the docks. They said if the kid shows props at some meeting at eight then I can be promoted!” He let out, before I dropped him back onto the ground. I approached the shotgun, twisting the muzzle around before it snapped off from the tension of me waggling it around. Walking back to the drunk man, I bent it in the shape of a cuff around his hand before driving it into the wall to pin his hand before he got the chance to run when I left. For an added bit of insurance, I gave him a single slap to knock him unconscious. That should give me time. With that, I “ borrowed” the phone on the table and then jumped out of the closest window and dialed 9-1-1. Going out of the door frame meant too many people seeing me.

“Hello operator, found a kidnapped young blonde teen at the Blackstone Hotel. Drugged. Perpetrator has been restrained and may be violent and drunk, please bring adequate wall-pulling supplies or about two to three strong people to release him.” Then immediately ended the call, dropping the phone under my foot and breaking it. I didn’t want him calling up someone after the whole situation to warn them, he could pay for another one. Though, with the idea that any of the people in the motel also being members of the gang had encouraged me to move and fast.

∎∎∎

[Late Night, 7:50 PM]

Running on foot to the docks had been the most exhausting exercise in my life, a couple dozen miles and now I was here, waiting for another few minutes. I hoisted my body up onto the nearest shipping container, trying to gain a vantage point and scout the area a bit more. This seemed like the kind of place where a group of gangsters would discuss something, though I could have also seen this taking place in some abandoned warehouse or being done in plain sight with trench coats.

After a several minutes past eight, they had finally arrived. One car drove in from the northeast, three people had walked out and left the driver in their seat. Two of them seemed like the regular thuggish types, the third seemed like the leader, walking in front of them both. The third was bigger than the two, he was fairly built with decent musculature, but he was lanky with a more well-trimmed beard with a slicked-back cut. While the other men seemed like the traditional bikers by appearance, he wore much of the same but it almost looked professional on him as if he was meant to wear it—it was built around him, with even the symbol stitched into the sleeve of his leather jacket. He took a seat on the trunk, while the other two men remained on guard–just watching until another set of car lights illuminated the docks before coming to an eventual stop.

Two men walked out of the vehicle, leaving the driver in the vehicle. Both wearing masks unlike the thugs they were dealing with, they were just full-opaque helmets, akin to tinted gray fish bowls and wearing gray tuxedos. They both smelt of the same cheap cologne, the kind that causes heads to turn because of how much of a random punch it was to the nostrils. I guess they appreciated remaining anonymous and fashionable. The taller of the two gentlemen approached the leading thug with an outstretched hand, and the thug reciprocated by hopping off the vehicle’s trunk to intercept the gentleman for a handshake. The gentleman turned over to the trunk, eyeing it for a moment before speaking up.

“Where is the child?” The gentleman spoke, though, from his look it was likely that he knew. I caught on pretty quickly following that inquiry.

“You’ll get him when I get the rest.” The thug retorted, slouching his head to be leveled with the gentleman, as if he was mocking him by lowering himself to the gentleman’s level.

“We provided half your payment for his safe retrieval, you’ll receive the other half when the child is in our custody. Foul play is such a thing that much of your kind is known for. When in our custody, you’ll receive what you promised and not a second earlier.” He retorted, legs together and hands tied behind his back. Though I couldn’t see his expression, I could tell he was staring daggers into the thug as if trying to get him to proceed just by remaining still to gain an upper hand in intimidating him.

Hell. It worked.

The thug reached over and popped the back of the trunk open, unveiling a dark-skinned boy of young age, with his hands and ankles bound by duct-tape and zip ties and eyes blindfolded. It matched the picture of Max that I’d seen in Sarah’s apartment.

They pulled him out, and the thug hesitated for just a moment to lower him gently on the asphalt ground. It seemed almost as if he was forcing himself to restrain himself, trying not to drop something that he feared he might’ve broken an expensive toy if he dropped it too hard or quick.

I could get a good look at him, but thank god the gentleman pulled out a light to shine on his body as he investigated Max. It allowed me to see small cracks within his skin. The gentleman pulled his collar back to notice shards of glass protruding outwards, growing from Max’s shoulders with roots that spread like crystalline fractures through his skin. The gentleman checked once more, now pulling the shirt of the boy’s collar to expose the base of his collarbone–revealing the mark of the key on the boy’s chest. The gentleman reached forward, roughly brushing at the mark to see any reaction, testing the genuinity of it— only to watch as the cracks on the boy's skin began to react, the cracks growing closer to the mark with more shards of glass protruding outwards.

“Good, no tricks. However, do try to make sure you don’t treat what you’re trading so harshly.” The gentleman uttered, turning to his men with a nod.

The thought may have already been seeded in my head from my earlier encounter, but now it blossomed into a full on reality. They were trafficking Keys.

I wasn’t given time to process this information any longer, as the ringing from one of the thugs’ phones had gone off to momentarily pause the exchange. The leader turned to his group, a single silent glare was enough to cause them to shiver as if he had threatened them with a glance alone.

“Turn it off.” He demanded.

“I- It’s from Samson.” He stammered, “He knows about the meeting, it might be urgent if he’s calling.” He responded, trying not to struggle in-between words. The leader turned to the gentlemen, and they waved it off, unbothered and showing they could wait just a moment longer. The leader held out his hand, gesturing for the thug to answer the phone.

Upon answering, his gaze shifted from seriousness to agitated confusion. He glared at the phone as he pulled it from his ear, as if he could intimidate it from looks alone.

“Someone assaulted Earl? What the fuck are you on about? What does it matter anyway… he what?! He’ll be put in the ground. Who the fuck is this guy that attacked him?” He growled, pacing around as if he was going to break something. It was just another guess, but it had likely been that same guy I had just beaten up and intimidated for information back at the motel. Guess one of his friend’s woke him up and spilled the information. However, now there was something new.

Throughout the conversation, I felt fine. Yet, the second that phone rang I felt the eyes of someone on me. That odd “I’m being watched” feeling that in a sense felt pretty ironic. Yet, as I glanced at the group, I could see the eyes of the driver just staring upwards at the supply crate I rested on. He couldn’t have seen me.

Yet, I was wrong. The driver tapped on the door of his vehicle and shouted.

“We got a watcher!” He yelled, voice muffled by the mask he wore. Pointing his finger to the crate and all the heads in my direction.

Now, all the attention was on me.