Things haven’t gone… smoothly.
May be in real trouble here, because it’s hard to go back to being the guy people aren’t sure is worth bringing up when you’ve got cops pointing guns at you. Better to be a ghost, right?
Let me start at the beginning.
I left the home of a Falcone’ goon, a big obvious surprise accompanied by a half-dozen smaller ones waiting to sneak up on him over the next day or two, with a little bit of information. Someone had seen this Joshua Freeman boy getting snatched by a figure that could only be Abattoir, and information like that can earn you pocket money if you know who is buying.
Lucky me the mark wasn’t home, but I was there when they called to offer him the information. That’ll be another fun twist of the knife for him. “What do you mean you weren’t home? Who did I talk to?”
Want to laugh just thinking about it, but the meditation’s been working. I can suppress the giggles when out of costume.
Knew then that I’d have to go to the others; I knew nothing of this little killer, but I’d been watching them get their hands dirty for a while now. Brimstone the unbalanced cowboy and Vagabond the flayed firebrand. Who am I to throw stones?
We found the boy, but not without Vagabond showing some true colors; can’t work with someone like that, only around them or for them. No compromise in his blood. Lesson learned.
Brimstone may be a different story. Dangerous guy, wants to fight his way through any problem, but priorities in the right place. Watched him handle someone up close, no damage, and was impressed.
I haven’t written this much in a few years. Not since the hospital and those first few weeks overseas. Fuck was that crazy, or maybe the only reason I didn’t go crazy.
Back to the present, Singletary.
It went wrong, very wrong, so fast. I noticed some things about the layout of the trap, heard some of the things the others said about what they’d learned with Abattoir so far, and went for a walk on my own. Can’t believe I thought being in the open, on my own, would be easy. I had some crazy daydream about maybe, someday, being such a hero around here that I could let some people I used to know in on the secret.
I’d watch their faces as they regretted every wince, or remembered the man they had written off as a cripple, and feel normal again. That’s not why I do this, and life isn’t a daydream.
I found Abattoir, chased him like the devil, and we fought. I wanted to play with him, wind him into stupid desperation, and catch him in a stupid mistake. Well it worked, because he practically threw himself off the railing.
Now it’s all on the verge of falling apart.