CHAPTER ELEVEN

DARK TO DARK

Waking up from the knock-out infused sleep, John opens his eyes as the darkness in his mind replaces an almost identical darkness. He cannot see anything, no matter how much he winks, no matter how much he opens and closes his eyes again. Turn it off and on again, John remembers an ancient piece of advice that he heard somewhere; he remembers that this fixes problems, but so far it does nothing.

He tries to move, but he cannot. Feeling a sensation of a rope bounding him while he is sitting. He has most surely been tied up on a chair, John concludes, using his excellent investigating skills. His head hurts but why it hurts he is not sure, he thinks for a bit this pain is most definitely the pain from head trauma. John is half right as half of the pain is from him getting clobbered in the head and the other half is from the alcohol and the mushroom. His stomach hurts, his legs, arms, head, neck, even ears, and nose, his everything hurts, everything hurts quite a lot; he cannot see and he is tied who knows where in some chair, but the worst thing of it all, the most nightmarish and cruel thing of this entire situation is the fact that the chair is not spiny. No, not a spiny chair, just a normal chair.

“What savages!” John says with utmost horror.

“Couldn’t even bother giving me a spiny chair. What is this? The dark ages?” John asks pondering about what cruel fate has brought him here, a cruel-cruel fate.

He tries to wiggle, but all that he manages with his wiggling is to just wiggle. Wiggle! That is a funny word, John thinks to himself.

“Wiggle, wiggle,” John says as he smiles.

“Kind of catchy could be a song,” John concludes.

With little to no options, he continues trying to wiggle and opening and closing his eyes which would look quite ridiculous but luckily the darkness obscures these most embarrassing actions. He tries harder and faster to open and close his eyes which absolutely has no meaning or merit but the harder and faster wiggling does something; moving bit by bit until majestically he falls to the ground with his most vile, non-spiny chair. The fall is hard and a loud thumping noise follows.

“Ouch,” John says as he lies on the ground. Ouch indeed.

He opens his eyes and sees a small ray of light piercing in through the cracks in this dark room.

Finally, he got somewhere thanks to his persistent wiggling.

“Finally, I got somewhere thanks to my persistent opening and closing of my eyes,” John says.

Just as John thought he was getting somewhere; a small flicker of hope would dare to arise from his hopeless and drunk mind, but mostly drunk. Up above, in the distance, a rustling noise is heard; it sounds like someone is trying to open a door.

Who else could it be but whoever brought him here, who else but the same people that hit him over the head and dragged his limp and unconscious body here, the same people and these people, with no doubt, did not have good intentions? After all, if someone clobbers you over the head from behind and ties you up in a dark room and the worst of it all ties you up on a non-spiny chair, those must be some nasty people. It does not take a brilliant detective or a master of deduction or induction to make this conclusion, so a feat had very low standards even John could easily conclude.

It was at this moment that his life flashed before his eyes; seeing his life, his decisions, his memories, he concluded they are all short. Short but biter. Better than long and bitter, John concludes.

It was so short that in fact, he could not make a single feasible scene from the memories that flashed, but if there was something positive in all this it was the fact that he could not make any feasible scene. His life was not well lived or if you would want a more poetic description of his life than it would be that his life was and is crap. Crap upon crap in the middle of crap surrounded by loads of crap and something entirely different in the distance... trash.

“Well, this isn’t good,” John says, visibly disappointed at the revelation of wasted years.

The moving of the doorknob continues as the door finally opens; making way to bright light.

Since John spent some time down in the pitch-black darkness the illuminating light blinds him. He can not see the figure behind the light but whatever figure it is he was sure it was surely a person of unparalleled malice and corruption.

Who is this demon, John thinks to himself as he struggles in his new but well-experienced attempt at winking like a seasoned veteran?

He winks and winks as slowly the picture becomes more clear and as he makes his final wink a picture forms in front of him. Standing in front of him is no other than Alex, the orphan boy.

“So it was you who was the mastermind behind it all!” John says full of surprise.

“What?” Alex responds, confused.

“I would have never thought the criminal mastermind behind everything was a simple orphan. Though not a simple one at that, are you George or if that is even your actual name?” John says looking with extreme contempt.

“What are you talking about? I am here to rescue you,” Alex responds.

“And my name isn’t George,” Alex responds annoyed at how someone can forget a person’s name for so many times, but then again the inexperienced youth still doesn’t understand the power of drinking maniacally for practically your entire life. One day he will, one day we all understand this as such is the nature of humans at least this is what John thinks but then again he is John.

“I knew it wasn’t your actual name,” John says as he nods, proudly.

“I keep telling you my name is Alex. Anyway, we have to get out of here,” Alex says as he unties the rope that binds John.

“What are you doing here, anyway? How did you find me? And most importantly, do you have anything to drink, my head is killing me?” John asks.

“I’ve told you I have come to save you,” Alex says as he continues to untie John.

“Do you even know how to untie a rope?” John asks not expecting much even though this is, obviously, his best chance of getting out of this predicament.

“Of course I do. I have read a book about ropes and whoever tied this doesn’t know much about ropes. Did you know there are 8 basic knots? There is the thumb, reef, figure of...,” Alex speaks as John cuts him off.

“Why would you read a book about knots? What is wrong with you?” John asks as he looks at the small orphan, shocked and confused.

“There isn’t much to do in the orphanage,” Alex says as he stops for a moment while the two look at each other in awkward silence.

“Fair enough, but you still haven’t answered the rest of my questions,” John says.

“What did you ask again?” Alex asks.

“How did you find me and do you have anything to drink on you?” John asks.

“No,” Alex quickly responds.

“Ah, I see you didn’t find me,” John says as he nods in a disappointment.

“What? I mean I don’t have anything to drink and I went to look at that address because I found a document in Miss McMann’s office but on my way there I saw you and some people who knocked you out by accident. I’ve followed them and waited for the right time to rescue you,” Alex says as he finishes untying the ropes.

“Who knocked me out? Did you see what they looked like?” John says as he gets up from the floor.

“Didn’t you see what they looked like?” Alex asks in a confused manner.

“Look here Napoleon, you can’t see someone if they knock you out from behind,” John says being frustrated by what seems like a very stupid question.

“But they didn’t knock you out from behind and they even talked to you and yelled your name,” Alex says as he continues to stare at John with a look of disbelief.

“...,” John has nothing to say to this.

“You were acting weird and kinda looked funny, more funny than usual,” Alex says.

John thinks for a moment and realizes the events that led to this entire situation. Closely pondering the events that led him here and the events of the night, he concludes.

“It must have been because I am overworked,” John says as he nods to that explanation.

If the truth was let us say the country of Japan, he would have been as far from it as if he was on the planet Neptune but not far away from the truth than that. But not a planet further-an astronomical fail.

“Either way tell me what did they look like. I know describing someone is hard, and that is why I want you to be as detailed as possible, I want you to remember every small part of them, down to the smallest pore and hair follicle,” John says.

“Well, they wore policeman uniforms and...,” Alex says as he gets cut.

“The Miller twins,” John says as he concludes.

“Wow, that was fast,” Alex says, impressed by the speed that John figured out the culprits behind his attack.

“It is only natural to be impressed. This is why I am the detective and you are an orphan,” John says with great pride.

“What do we do now?” Alex asks.

“Well, my miniature orphan, now we leave and...,” John says as he stops mid-sentence as he does not know what to do next.

“And we take down all the bad guys?” Alex asks.

“Exactly! I was just waiting to see if you follow the situation. You get a three,” John says.

“A three out of?” Alex asks.

“Out of taking down the bad guys,” John says as he and Alex leave the room.

Leaving the basement or what closely resembles one, the unlikely duo is greeted with a sight of an ancient and run down corridors. Spider webs ornament the halls and with them the appropriate garbage of broken bottles, cigarette buds, broken wooden planks and all other manners of waste; with this waste, the appropriate rats and cockroaches occasionally run by adding to the repugnant situation.

“Have you ever seen anything so dirty?” John says, disgusted by the scene which is a dump and a dump even by his standards and that says a lot.

“Yes,” Alex quickly replies.

“Oh, right, you live in an orphanage. I’m sorry for bringing back those harsh memories,” John says, shaking his head and forwarding a sympathetic face to the young boy’s blight.

“No, I came here to rescue you so that is when I saw it,” Alex says looking at John.

“Now, now there is no reason to feel ashamed. It is not your fault you live in an orphanage,” John says.

“You know the orphanage is cleaner than your home,” Alex responds.

“But does it have a spiny chair?” John asks.

“Um... no, it doesn’t,” Alex says.

“Case and point, case and point, my young orphaned orphan,” John says.

“We have to get out of here,” Alex says.

“Yes, but we don’t know the way out. We need to be very careful,” John says as stealthily observing his surroundings.

“I know the way out because I found you here,” Alex says.

“That is quite logical,” John says as he has to agree to this reasonable statement, an almost too reasonable statement that should not have even been stated but stated it has been and there was no restating it back.

“Lead on and I shall guard you from the back,” John says.

“Shouldn’t you go in front and guard from there?” Alex asks.

“But what is more dangerous an attack from the front or an attack from the behind?” John asks.

“Behind?” Alex says as unsure about the answer.

“Exactly, so I shall brave it out like a hero that I am,” John says.

“Well, I guess you have a point,” Alex says as he continues to sneak through the corridors.

As they progress through the broken and garbage-filled hallway soon sounds of conversations are heard. As they reach the exit door, the only thing standing between them and freedom is a room where the conversation is being carried out.

“What are we supposed to do with him now?” a mysterious voice asks.

“Why are you wearing your uniforms?” another feminine, mysterious voice asks.

“Were we not supposed to?” the mysterious voice asks.

“No...” the feminine mysterious voice says definitely.

“You didn’t say that,” another mysterious voice adds.

“I thought it was quite obvious,” the feminine, mysterious voice says in frustration.

There were too many mysterious voices and John like any good detective or any barely passable detective decided it was time to solve this mystery; in all frankness, this barely qualifies as a mystery.

I know those voices, John finally realizes. It is Jane Von Riyn and the Miller twins.

Alex wants to sneak past this room as he signals John with a wave of his hand but John signals back to wait with two fingers which confuse Alex but with the speed of a cheetah John soon realizes his mistake and he removes one finger but the wrong one. Creating a reverse screw you to the young orphan boy, very inappropriate.

“Why would it be obvious?” D. Miller asks.

“Because if someone saw you he could easily identify you or at the very least conclude that you were police officers, which would narrow the list of suspects immensely,” Jane says.

“That makes sense...” B. Miller says.

“Uf...” Jane sighs in frustration.

“What is done is done, but the question is what are we supposed to do with the drunkard?” D. Miller asks.

“Did you remember to bring masks?” Jane asks.

The Miller twins search their pockets. No masks.

“Oops,” both of them say in unison and as Jane proceeds with a powerful facepalm.

“Now I remember what you instructed us, but we kind of forgot,” D. Miller says.

“Well, in our defense it is late,” B. Miller says.

“You know what, it is fine. It is dark downstairs and you just need to remove your upper uniform and put something on your face. I’ve got something in my purse that will do the trick, just let me find it,” Jane says as she searches her purse.

“Then we can finally give him a beating,” B. Miller says, smiling.

“Just don’t forget to threaten him to give up all his cases that way, he won’t know that this is related to this one,” Jane says.

“Are you sure he has multiple cases?” B. Miller asks.

“Why wouldn’t he?” Jane says.

“Come on now brother I know we don’t like him much but even he would not only have one case,” D. Miller adds.

“I guess it makes sense,” B. Miller says.

Receiving sympathy was nothing John was fond of, but receiving sympathy from those two is something he was notably not fond of.

“Okay, I think I have something,” Jane says.

At this moment John signals Alex to move out and they slowly and quietly sneak past to the exit door where Alex gently opens it and closes it as they get out.

The two masked twins walk through the shadows to the place where John is, or rather was, being held. The shadows enter; they open the basement door as they walk downstairs only to find an empty chair and an untied rope. The two dark shadowy figures stand near others in complete confusion.

“Did we turn the wrong way brother?” D. Miller asks.

“There is no other basement in this building,” B. Miller says.

“But he is not here,” D. Miller says.

“I can see that or rather I can see very little. Can you turn on the lamp?” B. Miller says.

As the Miller twin turns on the lamp it reveals their masked faces; two figures wearing colorful, stylish bandana-like cloths, one on their face and the other on their hair. The two cloths on D. Miller's face are pink and have pictures of many fishes with green and red colors, while on B. Miller’s face and hair there are purplish cloths with many yellow turtles.

“He is not here,” B. Miller says as he looks around with his lamp illuminating the room and over their fabulous “masks”.

“Did we put him somewhere else?” D. Miller asks.

“I think he escaped,” B. Miller says.

“But it is John we are talking about,” D. Miller says.

“Yes, I know...” B. Miller says as he still can’t believe it.

“Brother you don’t think...” D. Miller says with prominent emotion as if he has come to an unbelievable conclusion.

“Think about what?” B. Miller asks as he looks at him.

“That he really is a ninja?” D. Miller asks.

“That is ridiculous... isn’t it?” B. Miller asks as he tries looking once more.

Outside on the streets, John and Alex have gotten far and to celebrate their miraculous escape John lets out a loud cheer.

“Ninja!” John yells.

Ninja indeed.