Gone. The one true guide to whatever my actual task was, not only disappears in an almost melodramatic fashion but also never fails to abandon me in a sheer pursuit in which he needs me to complete. Casting long shadows across a desolate landscape, I found myself ensnared in what some would call a narrative both eerie and perplexing. In the distance, a rather lavish farmhouse stood against tall reeds. To some, a farmhouse would allude to an old man maybe he has those scabs old people get on their heads and an all-in-one denim outfit. If in any case that were to be true, I would not in the slightest find myself sitting at a table, an unwelcomed guest in the presence of unsettling characters.

A man, in an unsettling navy blue suit seemed to absorb the uncomfortable light around him, whilst he held a sense of pride which sent shivers down my spine. Beside him is a woman, with peroxide blonde hair which I could only dare to think of the price to constantly maintain such an un-toned yellow. Yet it was the set of twins who stirred a certain depth of uneasiness within me. Their eyes and silent communication of echoing whispers were only truly described in the essence of the shining.

The Clinking cutlery of china fills the uncomfortable silence, whilst the family around me devours their rubbery steak. Amidst the strange ritual of dining, a sudden cough interrupts the odd silence drawing attention to the head of the table.

"Where did ya say-ya were from again?"

I pause, not due to any hesitation but more due to the obscurity of the situation.

"The north."

I say rather bluntly.

His wife's comforting gesture, a gentle rub on his shoulder speaks volumes about their dynamic. Although I am not one to judge others Armish, submissive desires. His perplexed gaze remains fixed on me, almost as if he is demanding an answer. His blonde wife smiles at my response almost with a look of excitement.

"Oooh I just love the North!.. The twins go up there to see their peepaw all the time."

"Must be splendid."

I fight the urge not to roll my eyes at the picture-perfect Southern sample of a family.

"Oh it is just amazing up there. You know it's-"

Mid-gesture, the woman's attempt to engage is abruptly halted by her husband. A hand silencing her with an unmistakable forcefulness.

"You do not need to bore our guest."

"Oh but dear I wasn't trying to I just-"

"Well you were darling, the intent doesn't matter."

On the far side of the table, the twin's identical grins border on the edge of cynical. If there was any way to compare their exact expressions; it would be the 2010 Alice in Wonderland live-action adaptation with the Cat, who holds an equally murderous smile. Although the only retaining information that I at least hold from that movie is a caterpillar who smoked too much for my liking. I cough to break the silence.

"Do you always live on a farm?"

The man scoffs at me. as if I was joking.

"No no no, it's simply more of a reconnecting thing ya' know. we stay around the big city.. ya heard of P & P?"

"Protection and Penetration? the sex store?"

Startled, the Wife spits out her water in shock. Her gaze fixated on the twins whom are eating and giggling in unsettling harmony.

"Goodness, kids, cover your ears!... we don't discuss such impure matters at the dinner table, miss."

Give me a break. If I were to be given $1.00 for every time I thought I had accidentally entered a Mormon bible study, I would have at least $5.00. Which is five times more than I should've been thinking about it.

"My sincerest apologies."

I say.

The man takes a sip of his glass of wine.

"As per continuing. I run a paper and press. Own the news around these parts."

"So you have media control?"

"Perhaps in some way, little girl.."

He looks at me as if I am playing a game with him. which one may argue is the case.

"So you Ultimately decide on what is published, wouldn't that make the news bias?"

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"No necessarily."

"Then would it be corrupt?"

Beat.

The man squints. In some sense, I'd like to say he sees right through me. In a low growling mumble, he replies.

"What are ya playing at huh? ..ya' got people on the outside..? huh? YOU JUST WANT BAD PRESS DO YOU!"

A thunderous crash, he slams his fists onto the table. His gaze pierced directly through me like a dagger aimed at my very core. If there was no consequence for me deciding to leave this man be; I would do so. Not only is the uncomfortable Texas country accent a honing talent within the family, but the demeanor is almost so uncanny I would much rather walk out the door. The blonde woman's touch on his thigh offers a moment of serenity to the man before he growls again.

"Ember... Put the kids to bed."

She laughs a bit, putting on her fake pearly smile.

"mm? O-oh but-"

"I said take 'em to bed! you hear me?"

With an obedient nod, she retreats, leaving me alone with the man, the myth, perhaps a legend to whoever works at P&P himself. His eyes dart, like sharp knives. They pierce through the veil of uncertainty. Approaching a cupboard with a purposeful stride, he places a folder and gun in the center of the table, their presence casting a shadow of gravity in the room.

"Look I don't know what ya want... but I do know that nobody with good intent shows up in a yellow raincoat and just sits and eats dinner with my family."

"Clearly someone did, I just did all of those things-"

"A- besides the point. Look... I-I knew my old days would catch up to me. Yes I did some shady things with some street folk here and there, but you gotta understand it was for my family I mean you would get that?"

"Even if I were to relate I have no care for your strange wife and unsettling twins. Do you openly allow for them to both have matching bowl cuts?"

"Look I get it, kid.. You've been through rough and hell, tell ya what, so have I okay... This little 'Oh I'm just a girl in the rain and I need food ain't fooling me anymore."

As he takes another sip of wine, the gears in my mind spin into a frenzy, reaching for the folder, each document within hints at darkened depths. Images hinting at trafficking, whispers of extortion, and kidnapping all loom within the files. Initially, my aim was simple, to rid myself of this man before my future expose which is to be published by the very P&P itself. Yet in the moment, it becomes clear that he has dug a far deeper hole for himself, reaching unforgiving depths.

"What did you say y-your name was again?... Invada? Is that Greek?"

"I don't know."

"Hmm well, how about I tell you this? You can write some story on me nobody will believe it anyway... Umm.. There was this family a while back. some street folk killed off the father I think they took the daughter. There was some kid in the car. and ah- t-they needed some buckeroos to hide out.. so you know I borrowed it from em'"

beat.

I find myself tracing through the folder, my eyes landing on one image. the rooting-tooting cowboy and a load of men who definitely don't fit into a print and press job and a kid. I stare at the kid long and hard. It almost hits with a sense of pain, stomach churning, and heart racing.

My finger traces over the contents of the folder, but it's the image that seizes my attention-- A jarring juxtaposition of a cowboy figure and a crew of men, none of whom belong to the print and press job. And then there's the child, innocent and vulnerable amidst the chaos. My gaze lingers on the child, each second an eternity as a surge of emotion grips me. My stomach was in a sickening churn, the frantic pounding of my heart. The image hits me like a blow.

"You piece of shit."

He stares at me dumbfounded.

"E-excuse me?"

"Look. Sir.. man...I had one position within all of this. which was rather simple in caliber. not only are you way to self conceited for all of this-"

"Can I say it's rightfully earned young lady?"

"Well, earning something and being a complete jackass doesn't make you an amazing judge in anything."

"Agree to disagree."

Just as he takes a sip of his wine, his hand paces towards the gun placed at the center of the table, fingers lightly pulling back on the trigger. Blood spurs out of his abdomen as he holds it his eyes trail back towards me. I stand opposite him pointing the gun ensuring if he moves I move.

"Look I don't have a full grip of half of the teleporting or magic shit that Death had but I will blow your brains out. Ya, hear me, cowboy?"

The man stares almost laughing.

"Who the fuck?- This must be a hoax are you some recreational hippie or something?"

"No."

"I've seen those on crime documentaries they always spill out about God and all that, you share a lot of components with that. is this a psychosis?"

"No. shut up."

In the chaos that erupts, time seems to stretch and contort. The man's lunge across the table is a primal blur of motion. Bullets pierce the air with intense velocity, their sharp reports echoing off the walls. As the battlefield unfolds upon a lousy table, we become entangled in a desperate struggle for supremacy. Our bodies clashed limbs and grunts, his hands calloused close around my throat like jaws of steel, constricting the passage of air mercilessly. The sensation of suffocation grips me in its cold embrace. With every being in my, I squirm within the suffocating grasp of his fingers, my lungs burning for air. In the midst of struggle thoughts surround me, is this bitter end?

Beat.

Even as despair threatens to consume me, the aid around me feels dense. With a trembling hand, I reach out blindly, searching for something, anything to anchor me to reality. My fingers brush against the smoother surface of the table. I clutch onto it seeking the fork and the one piece of cutlery left on the table. My free hand roams across the table, and the jolt of realization surges through. In a swift movement, the pressure against my neck stops. The sound of a low wince is then followed by splurs of red as the man's sound of choking fills the air. Panic. Panic courses through, the same type of panic one would get during the finale of Love Island after their first couple pick ends up placing third. Every nerve in my body screams in protest as I stumble through the chaos. Confronted with a sight that would send any normal person who is not working under the pretenses of death into a life conundrum. A Cowboy's head, separated and lifeless. laid bare before me. To most the mere sight of such would be enough to turn their stomach, luckily for me, I had one dissected frog in the school science lab. Reaching for a clear bag; it's an eco-friendly material. of course, they have this shit. The head lies in a bag with water, in hospitals I've seen similar jars, their contents in a mysterious goop of some sort. As I seal the bag shut a sense of grim satisfaction washes over me.

Now I need to find that stupid bus stop.