The clacking of the keyboard was the only noise occupying the living room. Rose, in the last few days, had been stalking maps and NY forums about any rumors and crimes that Rossi had planned. In this age of the internet rising, things were easy to grasp in just a few keystrokes. Rose had the world's information, all she had to do was look for the right things. Jackie, meanwhile, was smoking next to the window, looking over Rose with a careful eye. He quit his job. He had to focus on this task fully. There were enough savings to last a month or two for rent, and he could always find another job… If he didn't die.
After a bit, he broke the silence. "Say, Rose. Something's been nagging at me these last few days."
Rose glanced over from her laptop sleuthing. "Hm?"
"That letter. What did you have me send to that boy?"
"Huh? Oh. It was panties."
Jackie dropped his cigarette. "What?!"
Rose scoffed at his reaction, thinking it was unwarranted. "What? It wasn't mine, dumbass."
"Then who was it?! Your sister's?"
"God no! Ew!" Rose disengaged with her laptop job for a moment to look at the man. "He wanted me to prove that I existed. He asked me to mail him underwear. Of course, I just bought some used ones off eBay."
"Used ones… eBay?" Jackie, the tech illiterate soul he was, was stumped and completely underestimated the power of the internet, something he kind of ignored until he had to use it to send emails during his tenure in the army.
Rose rolled her eyes and laughed. "How old are you again? You can buy anything off eBay, I love that site."
"Whatever, man. Just keep me and that eBay away from me." The internet was much too confusing. The only thing Jackie can pray for is that it won't fester into a growing monolith. A wave of code and algorithm replacing blood and bone. That won't happen, right?
Back at work, Rose found something interesting. She called Jackie over, showing her notes. "Ok, this is what I got. Rossi has something planned. Clearly, nobody knows publicly. But I found some people that can point us in the right direction." She clicks to a tree of faces, most with question marks, but one has their face showing. She points to the one with a slicked ponytail, glasses, and a shitty grin with his sleazy suit. "This is Quinn Holden. Also known as Q. Q was a legit owner of the biggest nightclub in town, The Phoenix, but clearly he's taking and giving cuts to Rossi. He's been on file endorsing Rossi for mayor."
"Mayor?"
"Haven't you heard? He's running in the next election. And these positive endorsements from powerful people like Q? It would help. He's using him for something else. He's calling on all the powerful people in the city. And we just need to know who."
"And how do we?" Jackie asked.
Rose pulls up another picture of a suburban home, in New Jersey. "Ever been to Everton Hills? This is the home of Q's closest man, Sander Manfred. Q is never stationary. We can't guess when he'd be at the club, only Sander can."
"So, I storm in there, ask Sander about when Quinn's gonna be at the club, find Q, and ask him about who's involved with Rossi?"
"Exactly," Rose said, closing the laptop.
"If I'm going house raiding, I'd need a lot more than some pistol…"
Meanwhile, the NBLP church was as active as ever, as the members were cleaning the area. Roy was with his cousin, sweeping as Just You and Me by The Notations played on the old radio. Dante, as he got done sweeping his area, groaned aloud. "Can we go one day without playing some old shit? From this decade, please?"
"The decade just started, dumbass nigga," Roy clapped back. "Besides, you need some soul in your life. Not just money, cash, hoes."
"You the oldest 25-year-old I've ever seen."
As the two laughed, Jackie stepped in the church, with Rose not too far behind him. Dante's eyes upon Rose. He always went for the preppy type. She was reserved. Very casually dressed, baggy as hell. Her face was so pretty to him. Something about her. He felt a ping in his stomach he never really felt before. But this was much too quick for the young man. All Dante knew was he had to talk to her.
Dante walked over with Roy, dapping up Jackie. "Jackie! Why'd you quit the store, man?"
Jackie shrugged. "I just needed more time. You know where to find me." He then turned and shook hands with Roy. "Hey, Roy."
"Jack," Roy responded with a smile, shaking his hand back. "What can I do for ya?"
"I need something a bit more powerful than a pistol. Maybe a shotgun. Something close."
"Why's that?"
Jackie rubbed his chin casually. "Hunting."
Roy paused, looking at his friend for a split second before smiling again. "Oh of course. Follow me."
Rose sat on a pew, fiddling with her thumbs. Dante wasn't too far, thinking of what to say. He'd never struggled this much before. It all usually came so naturally. But that woman was different. He walked over, sitting a good enough distance and looked at her, head down, deep in thought. What to say? Dante looked at Rose's nice hair, in such a unique color. He looked at her shirt. The Smiths? That a band? He said something as she glanced over. "You uh… Like The Smiths?"
Rose looked at Dante rather confusingly. "... Yeah?"
Dante smiled awkwardly. "That's cool. I mean, I like hip hop mainly, but I should get into them sometime."
"Yeah."
A pause. This was going to be difficult. "What's your name?"
Rose was still confused on why he's so hell-bent on talking still. He was nice, I guess. "Rose."
"I'm Dante. You know, I used to work with Jackie. At the store,"
"Oh. Cool."
Another awkward silence. Dante chuckled. "I like your hair."
"Thanks." Her eyes flashed over to him for a second. "Your hair is cool."
Dante smirked. "Thanks."
Roy and Jackie came back, with his shotgun in a bag and a pair of bolt cutters, hot and ready. Rose nodded at Dante, the best she could give him for a pleasant enough conversation. As the two left, Dante wondered when he'd see her again. He'd be prepared for that moment.
Everton Hills, New Jersey.
All was quiet, as most suburban areas were. The uniformity of the houses was evident, and by design. Two floors, a garage, and a wide backyard. Perfect for a family of four. As God intended. Crime never touches this area. They weeded out all the "criminals" to have a safe, comfortable environment. Sander lived in solitude with his three other friends, who were paid to protect him. Q gave Sander nothing but the best. And Sander did his best to please Q… In more ways than one.
Sander was a young, beautiful Dutch man who crossdressed for Quinn on the weekends. His slim hips, chiseled jaw, and bright blue eyes gave a nice appearance of a woman, to make it not gay, at least to him. Sander didn't mind. As long as it paid. But Jackie has a new game in mind. Hide and seek. The night was cold, giving a hint to early winter. Dogs barked. Kids were walking inside as their mothers yelled them in for dinner.
In the backyard, Jackie, in the same fit he had that Halloween with the addition of gloves, snuck over until he saw a power box. He uses the bolt cutters to break the lock, open it, and use it again to finally snap the power. The house went dark, leaving those inside panicked. He heard yelling and bumping from inside. Perfect.
Jackie used a cellar door to walk into the hollow basement, shotgun at the ready. He was also in the dark, but he felt comfortable in it. After all, he created this world of fear. He knows how to maneuver through it. He crossed the basement and made his way to the living room upstairs, where he saw his first target, fumbling for his gun he dropped. Furthermore, he got close, shotgun aimed at his chest. "Hey. You Sander?"
"What?!"
"Ah," were the last words before Jackie pulled the trigger.
The pellets ripped his chest open, blood spraying, giving color to the black void Jackie was in. He screamed as he collapsed, breaths heavy as blood rushed from the new holes that were created from the blast. It was no use. He was begging for air that would not come. Jackie ran over to the stairs that caused the most commotion, hearing the bumping of feet get closer. Three people ran downstairs. Jackie grabbed the last one and yanked his neck with the body of the weapon. The other two thugs, pistols drawn, aimed at Jackie, yelling incoherently.
Jackie, calmly, stood strong. "Who's Sander?"
The thugs kept their pistols drawn, not saying anything. They could hardly see, so they didn't notice Jackie pull his Glock out and pop the right thug in the head, making an educated guess. The one in his grasp struggled out and punched Jackie in the face, busting his nose open and dropping his shotgun. Jackie faded into the dark, popping the one still with the pistol in the gut, getting them out of the fight quickly. The rusher still was on him, grabbing the shadow and wrestling the gun from his grip. Jackie kneed the man in the stomach, and repeatedly upped his knee into his face until blood gushed from his nose. Jackie let go, letting the would-be rusher suffer on the ground near the wall. With one last huff, Jackie put his boot up the side of the thug's head, kicking him in the wall.
Jackie heard a pop and rush of pain go through his shoulder, as the other thug shot him, still on the ground. Pain rushed through his failing shoulder, but he walked over, using the dark to avoid the shots, and disarm him. He stopped him viciously into the wooden ground, bloodying his nose and ruining his face. He dragged the shooter over to the rusher, who was half awake from the beating, and placed them next to each other. "Who's Sander?" Jackie asked again. The shooter raised his hand weakly. Jackie immediately shot the other one twice in the chest, killing them.
Jackie walked over and grabbed his weapons again, looking over Sander, as he heard the police slowly approaching. "Quinn. When will he be at The Phoenix?"
Sander groaned and coughed blood. "A few weeks… On 80s Night."
"Thank you." Jackie fired twice more, finally ending the massacre. With his bad shoulder and bloody clothes, he made a quick and quiet getaway just as the cops arrived.