No Damsel In Distress

I had to press my contacts real hard before I got it. And by real hard I mean nuckle feeding, knee to the stomach, face through glass door, head against concrete pressing with my boot at the back of their head. Finally, a sleeze bag from Harlem, spitting blood and teeth, gave me an address.

I got to the building with one objective only: save Jennifer from this lowlife scum. So I stormed the front door, packing heat, guns blazing, all that jazz. I wasted two or three dozen guys before they realized I was a force to be reckoned with and let me get to the top floor. Over their dead bodies.

I kicked down Fratelli’s door and paraded in. Surprised!

Fratelli was lying on the floor next to his desk in a puddle of blood. There was a chair next to his head that someone used to bludgeon him with. There were pieces of rope next to the chair. The window was open, it lead to the fire escape. I took my phone out of my pocket. Seven missed calls from Jennifer. I called back.

”Jenny?"

"Carl, thank God,” she said, “I’m out. Fratelli’s no longer a problem. Where are you?"

"I’m uh- I’m taking care of something. I’ll be home soon. Why don’t you keep the bed warm for me.”

She laughed at me. “Whatever. Just get here, okay? The captain was on Petrelli’s payroll. I know how to smoke him out, but I’m gonna need some brute force trauma, if you know what I mean.”

I hesitated. But there was nothing to say. “I’m on my way,” and I hung up. The cold breeze reminded me of a very simple and basic truth. It has to get darker before it can get brighter.

Posted by: Paweł Kowaluk