Author: Thousand Writer PM
Mysterious FBI/CIA weapons, crime syndicates, and an extended family was not part the plan. 24 year old Ryel just wanted to be a detective, but received more than just a spiffy magnifying glass! Chaos, mystery and humor are in good supply in this page-turning adventure!Rated: Fiction T - English - Adventure/Mystery - Chapters: 6 - Words: 15,023 - Reviews: 9 - Follows: 1 - Updated: 02-06-13 - Published: 09-20-12 - id: 3059589
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
(Author's Note: Alright, seeing I actually have completed a chapter of a brand new story I started today, I'm hoping this will inspire me to complete Yours Truly which hasn't been touched in years lol. Anyway, just hope you enjoy the chapter and leave a review to let me know what you think!)
"So much for my big family reunion plan." He thought to himself as he sat under a bridge. It was a cold, rainy February night, 11pm. The man was covered in rags but was dressed in a suit underneath it all. Hiding was the name of the game. The crime lords were not too far behind searching all around the park area, but they would be hard pressed to find one of the world's best private eyes. The rags were specifically made to reflect his surroundings, giving him the illusion of invisibility as well as hide any body heat that could be detected. In his mind, he's very grateful he took it when his FBI friend practically begged him to have it on this mission.
Much screaming and scrambling was heard above him. Chills started running up and down his veins as his entire body shivered. He had to stick it out however. If he ever wanted to see his children again, he had to, by all costs, survive. But being 80 years of age made him think just how much time did he really have.
"Hey! I think he might be in here!" Said one of the hitmen. He stood only 10 feet away from the entrance of the bridge's tunnel, which gave the private eye an extra chill. Not out of fear. But excited to finally turn the tables. As soon as the criminal paced forward, a long thin string thrust from the entrance, wrapping around the man's leg. In one swift motion, the string retracted and the criminal was flat on his back. Hundreds of volts coursed through the line, shocking the criminal into convulsions before passing out and then was dragged in mere milliseconds into the tunnel.
He held still. Clicking could be heard from both ends of the tunnel. There was that chill again. And he had plenty of string to go around. But, the moment he was about unleash again, he heard a loud "ahem" echoing through the tunnel. Instinctively, he withdrew his decision and waited. The cloak was bullet proof so he wasn't afraid of being shot. He could tell the voice that was about to speak had something far more menacing planned.
"Before you try shocking all of us, I think you should know one thing. I'm not trying to kill you. Buddy, come on…"
He stood up but stayed put in his position. Keeping silent while the voice continued.
"You know I'm just looking out for both our best interests. You want to die at a peaceful, ripe old age, and I want your help! Not killing, just cooperating!"
The private eye then walked out into the open, standing just several feet away from the crowd of hitmen and the man behind the generous offer.
"I wish I could agree, but I'm planning on living forever. Just F.Y.I." He responded.
They both smiled at each other like old friends. And before, they were. The private eye and the crime syndicate leader. But times change, people change.
"I'm sorry our little game of hide and seek came to a close so soon, but, you see, my men were just so impatient."
"Quit the banter. What do you want?" The private eye said, his mouth dissolving from a smile to a very stern, fixed position.
"Simple. All the classified information you have. Give it up and we'll have no problems."
"And if I refuse?"
A loud shot fired through the air, echoing through the night. Smoke seethed from the leader's revolver. Shocked and in disbelief, several hitmen backed away as they saw one of their own bleeding to death on the ground.
"I'll hunt your loved ones down til there's not one cherished soul left." He said low and calmly, looking at the fallen lackey and then slowly to the private eye.
It was then that the private contemplated that his options: lifetime prisoner, Going home to his wife in Heaven earlier, or
Making sure his family would always stay safe.
R.A.N.D.O.M. Chapter 1
Ryel (why-el) looked at his watch. It was midday and the sunlight pierced through the blinds in the counselor's office, leaving illuminated stripes throughout the room and gave a particular shine to Patrick Greystone's name plate. Sitting across from Greystone, Ryel soaked in everything in his surroundings. His blue button-up shirt collecting dust in the sunlight. The air conditioning blowing past his black pants and short black hair. The overwhelming odor of black coffee with a hint of cream. The occasional wrinkle that stretched and fold on Greystone's brow. Even the 3 separate strands of dog hair on Greystone's right shoulder, desk, and chair. His dog must love him very, very much.
But this was what Ryel's last day of college came down to. Sitting in an office waiting on his counselor's ok to leave school. For good. Greystone scratched his bald top as he looked over the papers on his desk. A frown grew slowly on his face. Not the gesture Ryel wanted to see on his favorite counselor.
"Ryel...are you sure you want to do this?" Mr. Greystone said.
"To be honest, no, but it's not like I have a choice. My parents need the money and I'm the only to help out." Ryel said with a small chuckle. Inside, he could feel his soul cringe at what he was giving up.
"Think about it. You're taking a 2 whole semesters off! These grades may be excellent but you'll be held back almost 2 years if you go through with this." Greystone said while pointing Ryel's latest transcript.
"Yes, I am aware of that, but it must be done."
The counselor sighed as he placed the papers in a folder and gave it to Ryel. This only added to the grey hairs he developed in the past year. Why would such a promising student leave? It made no sense to him at all, but, then again, it's Ryel's life.
"Well, I can't tell you what to do, but, do reconsider in the near future. I wouldn't want you to give up on your criminal justice major. And take good care of your parents." Greystone said, smiled and extended his hand.
Ryel returned the smile and shook his hand. "I'll be just fine, Mr. Greystone. I don't think your golden retriever would like seeing you upset over little ol' me."
"W-wait, how did you know I had a….?"
He pointed to Greystone's right shoulder. "The hair on your shoulder gave you away. What's the dog's name?"
"Betsy's her name, and she's a feisty one! Every single day, she greets me the moment I open the door!" He said with a laugh that invaded the entire room. You could almost feel the tension dissolve with every chortle, giving Greystone and Ryel a moment of fresh peace. He then sighed and said. "Ok then, well, if you ever need anything Ryel, let me know."
Ryel stood up from his seat and nodded in agreement. "I most certainly will, sir."
Within minutes, Ryel was on the outside of the counselor's office. And there he and his bookbag stood, looking at the name on the door for the very last time. Mr. Patrick Greystone, Academic Counselor and Supervisor. Unfortunately, he had little time to reminisce on the past for his new job awaited him. Starting at 2pm, he would be working at one's the world's most famous industries, Jewel Osco.
Cars, horns and commotion could be heard and seen for miles. Downtown Chicago on a good day of course. And as he walked to work, it was usually a good opportunity for Ryel to people watch without being detected or considered a creep. Details and mysteries were always important to him. As a child, he found within his home several Sherlock Holmes and Nancy Drew books and ate them word by word. The addiction led him to watch shows like Unsolved Mysteries, Psych, and Monk. A combination of stringing theories, understanding motives, and critical thinking turned his perspective into a life-sized detective game, and he loved every second of it.
At a stop light, he noticed a little girl smiling while holding her father's hand to his left. One of her shoes was untied but it was still tight enough not to fall off. There was an elderly couple holding hands to his right. The wife had a smile and much tighter grip than the husband. Either she's wants to assure him she's there for him, or punishing him by cutting off the poor man's circulation. And there was no smiling on his face. Maybe he's feeling smothered after 50 something years. The light turned green and they began to walk.
Once in the middle of the street, Ryel could see a lady 20 feet away jogging towards his directions. Wait, jogging only is a few steps ahead of walking. From the look of it, this was a full-fledged sprint! She had matching gray jogging pants and top. Just tight enough to show her curved figure. But also, there were red stains on her outfit. Ketchup? Paint?
BAM! Before he could process anything else, he found himself laid out on the sidewalk. Holding his head, feeling for a knot, he looked behind him and quickly figured it out. She was being chased! One guy, dressed in all black!
"Nooooot good! Not good at all!" He exclaimed as he got up and ran in their direction. The light turned red by this time as he ran back across the street and was graciously not hit by any cars. There were, however, several screeching breaks, honking, and the occasional middle finger. But, why would anyone be chased in broad daylight? Where are all the cops to help her out?
The woman continued running until she saw an open alley. Taking a swift right, she plunged into the dark abyss and the criminal was not far behind. At the sight of it all, Ryel was in utter shock.
"…..You have GOT to be kidding me, lady." He said as he ran and rubbed his hand down his face. He stopped right outside the alley and peered in. It was clear she was in trouble, and since it was one guy, he could possibly take him. He looked on the ground for anything he could use as a weapon, but came up short from where he stood. Tiptoeing to get closer inside, he eventually found a stray brick. "Perfect." He said softly to himself, picking it up. Making short strides as he walked, he braced his arm getting closer to the guy. The creep was much too occupied with her pinned to the wall to notice. This should be simple enough.
"AHHHH! I dropped something on the floor!" She said to the thug as she pushed him, "You idiot! What you do that for?"
Once again, Ryel was at a loss for words. She obviously didn't know robbing etiquette.
"Look right here where you dropped!" She yelled again. A loud clap rang through the hollow alley. As her cheek turned a light red, she still stood firm. "If I had a brick, I'd make you look down!"
"Lady! I am 10 seconds away from ringing your neck! Don't you EVER speak like that again! You got that!?" The man said, spit flying from his mouth with every other word.
The boy's thoughts were reeling now. This must be a hidden camera show. There's no way anyone could be THIS stubborn! And, so what, if she "had a brick"….?
Wait, if she "had a brick"…she must see him with the brick! She'd "make him look….
Ryel looked "down" and, sure enough, something was there. A cell phone, a rather expensive one at that. He mentally slapped himself for not realizing her hints sooner. Looking closer, a text message was open on its screen. From where he stood, it read…"I got this guy. Handle the 3 behind you."
A shock ran a millisecond course through his body. He was physically and mentally frozen, realizing just how this situation was not in his calculations. He started to shake, too afraid to turn to face the men approaching closely behind him.
The jogger bit her lip as she saw the boy was much too shocked. Unfortunately, she didn't want to blow his cover to get him out of dream land so, she decided to….
"See, if I had a brick, I'd move like this!" She yelled. The boy sprung to life, looked closely at her and knew instantly he better pay attention. Still pinned against the wall, she jabs her elbow behind her into brick surface! Wincing in pain, she kept her eyes on her enemy. The robber looked at her with his mouth ajar.
"W-wwhat in the world!?" The robber said. A loud grunt and thud was heard behind him. Turning around, one of his guys was on the ground holding their stomach, rocking to steady the pain. Not to mention, the boy's jabbed elbow position was clear in view. He gasped and looked back at her. His skin and blood boiling hot red. "Why, you nasty-!"
"And, I'd do this!" She said as she swiftly dropped to the floor and sweep kicked him, flailing him to one side and knocking him out, head first. The boy instinctively followed suit but managed to sweep kick in front of him and dodge the 2 remaining mens' fists. She shook her head and laughed.
"Next time, sweep kick BEHIND you!" She said as she threw 2 needles over his head. They whistled in the air, impaling the attackers at their legs. Once he heard 2 loud thuds, Ryel stood up and saw all 3 of his attackers, grunting slowly on the ground, unable to stand.
Baffled was an understatement at this point. No one would believe he was saved from 3 guys by a late afternoon jogger. But, it didn't matter. What mattered was that they were both safe, even if he didn't exactly save the day. But now that he saw her up close, He saw she was rather gorgeous. Her red lips shone brightly despite the lack of light in the alley. Her skin was smooth with a caramel complexion as her long, wavy black hair flowed with the breeze over her emerald green eyes.
"Ummm, kid, drop the brick. It's over." She told him. He looked at his hand. Yep, the brick was still there.
"S-sorry for staring, but might I ask, who are you?" He said as he released the brick and picked the phone off the floor.
"I'd like to know the same thing, hon."
"Well, I'm just your average young adult."
"Uhhh, no. You're a nosy kid who nearly got killed playing hero!" She yelled. He bit his lip with a heaviness growing in his heart.
"Yeah, I see that now."
"Look, I can see you're actually a bright kid, but don't get involved if you can't fight."
"But no one helped and you were alone! How should I know you were Ms. combat expert?" He said, turning light red and throwing her phone to her.
"Well, when doing reports on gangs, you have to be prepared." She said, catching the phone.
She flashed her wallet to show her work ID card. "Atlas Bogard, field journalist. If you've never heard of me, you will soon."
He scratched his head, hoping his nails would prod out any recollections of that name. "Nope, can't say I have. That is a nice necklace you have though."
"Necklace? What ne….." She paused, "Oh, I forgot I was wearing it." She pulled at the strand around her neck to reveal a necklace, A silver band with a single blue diamond. Engraved on the front were initials. "So you do have some skills, Mr. Perceptive." Ryel walked up to her to get a closer look.
"Yea, noticed the slight bulge in your outfit when you were running." He said, sounding as if it's common knowledge.
"Could've been a mole for all you know." She teased.
"Uh huh, okay," He said with a slight smile, "But those initials, BW, they are the exact same ones that I have on my watch."
He pulled off his watch to show his engraving, but the moment Atlas compared the two, her stomach dropped.
"Oh no, this can't be real." She said, running her hand up and down her cheek.
"What, is it?" His mind racing as if he's in trouble.
"Have you ever heard of Brucille Wisley (Bru-seal Why-slee)? The man known for being the world's best private eye?"
"Yeah! I've read about him a great deal a year ago! But what does that have to do with me?"
With one eyebrow raised, he asked, "Us?"
She placed one hand on his shoulder, took a slow inhale and exhale, and said. "Kid, he's looking for us. We used to be his children."