CHAPTER TEN

EVERYTHING ELSE

Earlier, since John’s meeting with Mr. Malone, as he leaves the crime boss’s office, things are on foot.

“What is this?” Jane von Riyn asks in her mansion as she notices a small rash on her left foot.

“I’m afraid I do not know, madam,” the butler answers with a classical emotionless expression.

Jane gets up from her sofa, commandingly looking at the butler.

“Call those two and tell them to do it,” Jane says.

“As you wish, madam,” the butler says, bowing his head and heading away.

The phone rings the first time, then the second time, and finally, the third time as a mysterious voice from the other side answers.

“I told you I am not interested in surveying women’s hygiene products again. Can you people stop calling me? Don’t you have any other numbers to harass?” the mysterious voice says, frustrated.

“It is me.” the butler says, he coughs slightly changing his voice, “It is me,” he repeats whisper-like creating a mysterious mood.

“Oh,” the mysterious voice from the other side says, a bit embarrassed.

“It is on,” the butler adds.

“Very well, and if you could forget about the previous statement that would be great,” the mysterious voice says.

“Just do what you are being paid for,” the butler continues sighing.

“Yes, of course, um... how are you, by the way?” the mysterious voice asks.

“I’m hanging up now,” the butler says as he hangs up.

He walks away, shaking his head in a disapproving manner as he lightly sighs.

At Mr. Malone’s office.

He is scribbling down on a piece of paper with intense passion.

“So when they bring him down I can say... show me the money. Yes, that would be great; but didn’t I already use that line, and isn’t it too easy? Maybe if I go with where is my precious, or is that too modified? The worst thing is if I say something and no one gets it; imagine the embarrassment? I could always kill them so it wouldn’t be a problem. No, no... I need to hone my craft and honing one’s craft requires persistence and only when I hone my craft will I be the king of the world,” Mr. Malone says as he smiles.

“But what if he doesn’t have any money? What then? I could say well nobody’s perfect but that would look like I am forgiving him, perhaps it would be better to go, mothers of mercy is this the end of Rico, and then I can shoot him. That would produce a perfect situation,” Mr. Malone says as he continues to scribble down his movie quote comebacks.

He relaxes in his chair as he thinks hard.

“No!” Mr. Malone screams.

“It is possible that they will not understand it and it could be even worse if they ask me who is Rico; that blundering idiot Harry will most likely ruin it. Why do I keep him around... ah right, he punches people? What if I go with something simpler like look at him just before the end and say oh yes the past can hurt but you can either run from it or learn from it? Then when he tries to run I shoot him in the back and can say something like you didn’t run fast enough,” Mr. Malone nods as he continues writing and thinking.

Being entertaining is hard, Mr. Malone concludes.

Earlier, when the two brothers, Roderick and Harry, left Mr. Malone’s office and went towards Pink’s house.

“I am like a ninja,” a loud voice comes from not so far.

Okay, now I know we are being followed and, probably, the worst tailing job in the history of tailing jobs. I feel almost embarrassed I didn’t notice it sooner, Roderick thinks to himself, but what to do about it is the real question?

“A ninja,” the voice loudly yells again.

“Do you hear that, brother?” Harry asks.

“Unfortunately I do,” Roderick adds.

“What is it, brother?” Harry asks.

“Looks like a ninja by the sound of it,” Roderick says as he shakes his head in vivid annoyance.

“Don’t be silly brother, you cannot hear ninjas,” Harry says as though he heard something utterly stupid being said.

“We are being followed, Harry. The one following us is yelling ninja because he is drunk and bad at his job,” Roderick explains.

“So I was right!” Harry proclaims.

“Right? About what?” Roderick asks, looking at his brother.

“Well, I’ve said that if we were being followed we would hear it,” Harry says, standing in all his majestic pride, prideful like never.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this... but for once in your life you are right,” Roderick says with a look of defeat.

“A ninja,” the voice from afar yells again.

“Seriously?” Roderick asks rhetorically.

“What are we going to do about that ninja brother?” Harry asks.

“Nothing. Just leave him be. I have enough buffoons to deal with already,” Roderick says.

“You want me to smash these buffoons?” Harry asks, looking around himself.

“I would but we have a job and I, for one, am eager to finish it as soon as possible. Come now, let us continue,” Roderick says.

“Lettuce continue,” Harry says as he chuckles like a child.

At the orphanage, the little orphan boy Alex is lying on his bed in the dark at ready with open eyes; waiting as the entire orphanage slowly falls asleep. As the sandman descends upon the residents of this less-than-fine establishment he quietly gets up from his bed, already wearing his clothes, and sneaks in the darkness. The sneaking is solid as there is no yelling and calling oneself a ninja; other people, which we will not name, could learn a thing or two about this.

Hastily he makes his way out of the sleeping quarters and outside to the hallway, he continues to head over to the headmistress’s office. The door is locked but having lived there for all of his life he knows that a key is hidden below a plant where the receptionist, the headmistresses sister, sits; he takes the key and unlocks the office room.

Exiting, he slowly closes the door, turning on a small night lamp to not arouse suspicion. While the small night lamp shines its light searches across the room; most things are of no use. There is something in her drawer that, when read, catches his attention. Alex’s face turns pale as he reads the documentation. He quickly returns the documents, but not before pocketing one piece of paper. Locking the door and returning the key, he leaves the orphanage with purpose.

Outside on the streets, the two infamous twin cops, the Millers, are patrolling the streets.

“So why did you wake me up again?” D. Miller asks, his eyes red, looking like he just woke up from a very short sleep.

“I told you we have a job to do,” B.Miller says as he shivers; it is cold.

“Why is it so cold outside?” B. Miller says rubbing his hands in a quick motion trying to warm himself up.

“Can’t we just say we were on patrol like always?” D. Miller asks as he yawns loudly.

“This isn’t police business, this is... other business,” B. Miller explains.

“Oh, that makes much more sense. I thought I was going crazy thinking you decided to be a proper policeman,” D. Miller says as he does a small nod of realization.

“What is that supposed to mean?” B. Miller asks with slight anger in his voice.

“What’s what supposed to mean?” D. Miller asks, looking at his twin brother with confusion.

“Are you saying I am a bad cop?” B. Miller asks, looking at his twin brother with an intense look.

“Do you have a fever?” D. Miller asks not understanding the reason his brother is getting angry and more so why he is even asking such a question. Is it possible that he thought he was a good cop, D. Miller thinks to himself?

“You think I am a bad cop? Is that it?” B. Miller asks.

“I think we should head over to a doctor to have you examined,” D. Miller adds with worry on his face.

“When did I do something that would qualify me as a bad cop?” B. Miller asks like he heard something so outrageous that he cannot believe his ears.

“Come on, at least name three things. I am waiting,” B. Miller says as they both stop in amid their tracks.

“Well you take bribes,” D. Miller says.

“How can you count that? We work in the police, of course, we are going to take bribes. What policeman doesn’t take them?” B. Miller asks.

“Well, John didn’t,” D. Miller says.

“He is a drunkard and a loser, how can you count him,” B. Miller says.

“A drunkard and a loser who doesn’t take bribes,” D. Miller responds nodding in some weird way as he was complimenting a man; to his credit, this was one of the better compliments John would receive in his life if only he was here to hear it.

“So just him?” B. Miller asks.

“There is Betty, Rick, Ian, Barbara, Emma, and Steve... there are also,” D. Miller says as he gets cut off.

“Okay enough. What else?” B. Miller asks.

“You don’t do patrols and lie that you do them,” D. Miller adds instantly.

“Well, I can’t do every single patrol they assign to me. I am not a superhero or Steve,” B. Miller says.

“Steve is amazing. Ain’t he?” D. Miller says with a look of the utmost appreciation.

“I hate him,” B. Miller says.

His brother gasps in disbelief.

“How can you hate Steve... he is, basically, perfect,” D. Miller says.

“That is why I hate him. He makes everyone look like a turd,” B. Miller says.

“Maybe we should all strive to be more like Steve? Instead of lowering others to elevate ourselves, maybe we should just try to elevate ourselves without lowering others. In this, we could strive for growth. With this, we could reach new heights and become better people in general,” D. Miller says within a moment of passion and inspiration.

“Don’t talk nonsense, you are still half-asleep. Anyway, you still haven’t named the third thing,” B. Miller says.

“Let me think;” D. Miller says.

“Ha, you can’t! Can you?” B. Miller says as though he has just won; he thinks for a moment.

“You extort people, you work illegally where you abuse your authority as a policeman, you steal things from evidence lockers, you drink and drive, you...” D. Miller says as he gets cut off.

“Enough! Fine, I get it,” B. Miller says as the look of victory soon turns to a look of utter defeat.

“You know, you aren’t any better,” B. Miller adds.

” I know, but I’m just surprised why you thought you were a good cop?” D. Miller asks.

“I kind of knew I wasn’t... I just never thought about it. It feels weird when you are confronted with this realization. Maybe, just maybe, I wanted to think or even try to be better. You know?” B. Miller says as pondering about his life choices and his life in general.

“You want to change?” D. Miller asks.

“No... do you?” B. Miller asks, looking at his brother.

“Not really...” D. Miller says as they both look at each other in a moment of awkward silence.

“What was that talk about elevating ourselves about then?” B. Miller asks.

“It was just philosophical talk, you know like Aristol used to talk about,” D. Miller says.

“You mean Aristotle?” B. Miller asks.

“No, Aristol the guy we went to school with. The one who got beaten up a lot, you know?” D. Miller says.

“Oh yeah, how could I forget about him. Well, we still got a job to do so let us move on,” B. Miller says as they continue on their way.

Before they could arrive at their destination they see John, who is vividly and obviously out of his mind, bumbling around and looking at the sky as though he was chasing something but that could not have been the case because there is no rational reason anyone would chase something in the air, no rational reason at all.

“It is time to get to work,” B. Miller says approaching John.

“Shouldn’t we like sneak up on him or something?” D. Miller asks stopping his brother.

“I somehow think that won’t be necessary,” B. Miller says as he continues to walk.

They approach John bearing a wicked smile but John doesn’t register this, not only does he not register this, he does not notice the two policemen in front of him.

They stand a breath away from him as he still looks up in the sky, manically scanning left and right.

“What now?” D. Miller asks.

“Um...,” B. Miller with a loss for words turns over and looks at John who is still looking left and right, right and left and everywhere he can; with this devoted search one would assume that noticing two people standing right in front of you would be a simple task, but in this case, one would assume wrong.

“John? We need you to come with us,” B. Miller says, looking at the person with a highly questionable state of mind.

John does not notice; he continues to search vigilantly around with his gaze towards the night sky. He stumbles past the Miller twins with eyes as red as blood or a nice strawberry jam- red!

“Did he just ignore us?” D. Miller asks looking at Johns back who is slowly walking away. If he had another two or three hours, surely he would get a 10 step advantage on his pursuers.

“John, you idiot, we are talking to you,” B. Miller screams, but his screams are all for naught.

The two twins look at each other as they nod to themselves, understanding full well what they needed to do.

Indeed, if all reason fails, and there is a severe lack of communication, then a few options remain.

With this thought B. Miller walks to John and clubbers him in the head with his baton; as John falls to the ground with a surprised but happy look on his face, his world grows darker.

“Are you a friend of the dragon? I am also its friend,” John says as the world gets darker until it leaves nothing except a clear pitch black.

Just before he is about to lose his last moment of consciousness he lets out a final war cry one ultimate word. Ninja!

“What now?” D. Miller asks.

“We continue,” B. Miller responds as they lift and carry him away.

From the shadows, other figures watch as these events unfold. From one side stand the two brothers, Harry and Roderick, who are waiting to see the situation unfold; from the other, the little orphan boy Alex watches and none of them scream that they are ninjas. This is a proper way to stay hidden, this is how it should be done but it still misses the heart that John had when doing it. For one final time let us cheer his spirit and altogether stand up with pride and say... Ninja!