Work Text
Slam
Jake didn’t flinch at this sound anymore, he’d heard it far too much already. The folder filled with photos and evidence had been laid on the front of the desk meant a new assignment finally came in for him. Jake was the talk of his company for the longest time- being the youngest to start there but still, a hard worker after ten years was something new. On the other hand, his partner, Anthony (otherwise known as Russo), was more of an average Joe.
He stepped out of his office, making his way towards Anthony’s part of the place to let him know the good news- I mean, who wouldn’t want to go out and hunt criminals right?
“Jayingee! What’s up?” Jake heard his partner call his codename- something so simple yet nobody ever figured it out. With a smile, he dropped the unopened folder onto the other guy's desk, allowing them to read it together. “Oo~ a world-known assassin! Goes by the name ‘Flamingo’. Wonder how he came up with that.”
“Not something you’d see every day.” Jake added, sharing a chuckle before continuing, “Any info from previous agents on this case?”
Anthony waved him off, “Way ahead of you,” he pointed out and turned his monitor towards the taller, “A spy got sent in.. yada yada yada... we’re meeting up with them tomorrow night at the Hilton Hotels on Second Street… plus Agent Leah being on the case. Department D3 if I can read today.”
Jake smiled, waiting a moment for his partner to get up off of his ass before making their way toward the elevator. The doors swiftly opened and closed, and soon enough they made it to their desired floor- passing by the secretary with a nod of acknowledgement. It was a surprisingly long walk to D3, and both boys were breathing heavier than normal as they knocked on the office that belonged to Agent Leah.
“Finally! Come on in.” Called- assumingly- Leah. They stepped into the room, just like any other office with plain beige walls and a desk in the middle. However, there sat a woman with blonde hair tied up in a ponytail who seemed to be scribbling something out on a document. She took a breath to relax to muscles before looking up and squinting her eyes, clear confusion written on her face. Jake quickly filled her in on why they were here, “We’re transferring onto Operation 56- says you’re also on this case right? Just wanted to know any more information before we get started!”
Leah leaned back into her chair, eyes softening as she cleared her throat, “Right, I knew those other guys couldn’t handle it anymore. Flamingo has been out and about for years now, starting when his wife of three years- Lana- got murdered in their own home as a ‘revenge’ plot against him. Something must’ve snapped inside ‘em and we still have spies going in and out to find out more.”
“Any reason he goes by Flamingo?”
“First date was at the zoo. They got to hold baby flamingos.”
Jake held back a laugh, watching as Leah crossed her arms over her chest, “Is that all? I still have work to do besides the loose bird man.” Anthony nodded before adding, “Are you going to be meeting at the Hotel as well then?”
“Obviously. Now kindly, get out.”
That was enough for the boys, taking the way-to-long path back to the elevator with both professional and non-professional talk as they went. Most of it was nonsense, a playful shove-inducing comment, something along the lines of, “So we’ve never seen this guy right? You think he’s hot?” From Anthony, gaining a well-earned, “Shut up!” from a chuckling Jake.
It was exactly 22 hundred hours or 10:00 pm for any other normal person, but it was exactly when Jayingee and Russo were dressed up in freshly steam-cleaned suits accompanied by a small earpiece. All they were waiting for now, was Agent Leah, who showed up in a gigantic white limo wearing a bright red dress with way too much glitter.
“So, what do you think?” She purred, doing a twirl before swaying her hips.
“Are you planning to sleep with a world-known assassin?” Russo commented, deadpan with a hint of disgust in his tone.
Leah scowled, “Did you even read the plan? I’m trying to make him vulnerable.”
Jayingee nodded, giving a light smile before hurrying the two along. The last thing they needed was a fight, especially on a mission. The three entered Hilton Hotels, being greeted by a man in a very similar suit to the boys, “Good evening! Welcome to Hilton Hotels, dinner is being served in the main hall, and rooms are up the stairs to your left. Please do enjoy your time here.” Leah grabbed the keys with a wink, leaving the greeter stuttering as they continued their way along.
In the main hall, there were tons of people in the fanciest get-ups known to mankind. Jayingee scanned the room, but nothing of interest caught his eye.
“You two stay near the bar. I’ll head up to the rooms and see what I can find. If I call back up and you hesitate for even a second” Leah took a breath, doing a dramatic twirl on her toes and heading up the stairs as Jayingee and Russo took their post. They made casual conversation while waiting for any hint of urgency from their female partner.
Ah, found it!
Leah whispered, it was what the two guys were focused on now.
Hey bad boy~ you need some help with your business?
Another voice suddenly joined in, something deeper but not by much, ‘
You sweet little girls giving yourself up to somebody like me. Now how does one get as stupid as you?’
Jayingee stood up from the bar, soon followed by Russo. The conversation continued as they rushed to where the other two were.
What? ‘I know who you are. Your dad,’
a struggle from Leah was barely heard,
‘he beat you, didn’t he? Held your hands just like this, am I right?’
BANG
The door burst open. In the room was Agent Leah in her shining dress pinned against the wall by a man- about the same height as Russo- wearing a loose white robe, a pink flamingo mask over half of his face and bushy white hair with long brown roots. It was like he was five again when he yelled, “Oh, you brought company!” while looking the newcomers up and down.
Jayingee and Russo held up their guns, threatening Flamingo the best way they could, though it didn’t stop him from rambling along, “Let’s see… Anthony! Haven’t seen you around here, oh my bad, Russo. Oo~ and the handsome Jake- or of course, Jayingee. You two must be with Agent Leah over here.” Flamingo purred before letting the woman go and playfully putting his hands in the air.
“How do you know our names?” Jayingee hissed, staring daggers at the partial brunette.
“Straight to the point! Alright, well, you see... Actually- I don't have to waste my time with you people! I could very easily leave just about now!” Flamingo grinned, clapping his hands happily- as if he was part of a kids' tv show.
“There are three guns and one of you, so I expect you to get your ass on the floor.” Leah spat.
Flamingo wiped the spit off his forehead, moving slowly backwards and putting on a pair of black tights, a black shirt and a black hoodie. He eventually turned around again and held his arms wide open, “Shoot me.”
The three stared, guns still pointed however nobody dared to move just yet. “You guys are no fun.” Flamingo pouted, moving to adjust his mask so it was tight against his face.
And he pounced.
He attacked Russo, latching onto his arm and narrowly dodging Leah's bullet. Swiftly, Flamingo swiped the now sweaty gun and shuffled backwards while holding it against Russo’s exposed neck. Flamingo grinned yet again, staring at neither in particular as he talked in a sickly satisfied tone, “Drop your weapons before I blow this guy's silly brains onto this carpet.”
Jayingee watched his partner struggle beneath Flamingo’s ever-tightening grip, “Call for backup. I repeat. Call for backup at Hilton Hotels on Second Street.” Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, but he willed them away, now was
not
the time for being emotional about his partner.
“Oh, goody! More people!” He heard Flamingo cheer, suddenly giggling like a little kid. It made Jayingee’s spine crawl.
“Listen, just come with us, and nobody's blood or brains will be on this carpet, alright?” He soothed, taking a step forward before being stopped by a very firm,
“NO!”
Flamingo breathed heavily, shoving the nozzle farther into Russo’s neck, “You’re all just going to take me. I knew your stupid plan- trying to make me vulnerable so I get shipped to a place where I don't get to see the sunlight ever again! I
hated
that place!
You CAN’T make me go back!”
It was nothing less than a yell, people downstairs might be able to hear what was going on, but the mass murderer didn’t care at this point.
“What is this
about
Flamingo? What could have possibly been so bad for you to turn out like this?” Leah pleaded, her gun wavering.
“ARE YOU SERIOUS? You know exactly what happened.” He hissed, grip on Russo tightening yet again, struggling to breathe, “I was happy once you know. I had a stunning wife who I loved so very, very much. Then guess who burst through MY FUCKING DOOR? THE CRIMINALS YOU LET OUT CLAIMING THEY WERE INNOCENT! THEY BURNED MY HOUSE TO THE GROUND.”
“Flamingo, we looked over the reports and they swore they were”
“Oh shut it you dirty
slut”
He hissed, slowly dragging Russo towards the balcony with little struggle, “Now maybe you’ll know what it feels like to lose somebody you love.” Flamingo stared directly at Jayingee and smiled. It was something that filled the Agent with guilt. Why can’t he pull the trigger, save his best friend,
anything?
The tears were coming back, harder to stop than before- yet he managed to hold them for now. His aim was no longer steady.
BANG
A flood of agents entered the room, all pointing guns toward the man with a bright pink mask, “Give it up Flamingo. You’re surrounded.” One of them called. Jayingee felt his grip on his weapon tighten with his comrades in the room.
“Oh golly gosh, really? Me? Surrounded?” Flamingo rolled his eyes, continuing to back up until the railing was pressed up against his back. The rest of the room followed suit, a large semicircle forming around the opening with Jayingee in front. Keeping his voice low, Jayingee threatened the smaller, “Give it up, Flamingo.”
His shoulders relaxed on the pole behind him. With an ear-to-ear grin, Flamingo hopped over the railing. Taking Russo with him.
Jayingee quickly ran over to the balcony, leaning over with his eyes darting around. It was silent. Something hot ran over his cheeks, and he hoped it was sweat.
“Fuck.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It was no less than a couple of hours, but to Anthony, it felt like years. He had woken up to being tied to a stained chair in an almost pitch-black room. The rope his assailant was using was scratchy and it made him feel like he was in a wasps’ nest. Anthony was stuck, barely able to move his elbows and knees before a slightly familiar face straddled his legs. Right. Flamingo.
“Now, just sit back and enjoy yourself.” Cooed the man on top, revealing a light silver blade in his hand- barely shining in the musty room. Anthony’s eyes widened at the sight, feeling them begin to water. He opened his mouth to plead but was quickly silenced by the knife on his lips.
The tip of the blade made Anthony shiver as it touched the purple-blue spot on his neck, though it was soon replaced with a sharp jolt as it easily went through the man's skin. It was dark, yes, but the new stain on the knife was noticeable even through the blur of his tears, “Why… Why are you doing this.?”
“You wouldn’t understand.” Flamingo quickly responded, standing up and turning to a table with multiple reflections catching Anthony’s eye. One was picked up and examined, a darker shade of grey on the blade.
“Try me.”
The weapon was dropped, and Anthony noticed Flamingo’s hands clench as he whipped around to pull him forward by the collar of his shirt. The air grew tense as he finally spoke, “Because of agents like
you
, innocent people get killed.”
“So it's about Lana,” Anthony noted out loud, suddenly realizing his mistake of saying such a name.
Flamingo let go of the man's collar, instead gripping his neck. Blood from the fresh wound poured onto his tough fingers as he tightened his grip, “Don't you
ever
speak of her. You get no right.”
“Why not? Why can’t I say the name, Lana?” Anthony retorted, breathing shallowly as he tried to mess with his attacker mentally. Fingers slipped away from Anthony’s throat as Flamingo turned away with a howl of anguish. Sticky blood from his neck was now on chunks of the brunette’s hair as his hands flew to cover the ears. He tilted his head slightly, wincing at the pain as he watched the boy breathe heavily.
Flamingo stood quickly, shuffling through at least twenty blades on the counter before settling on one with a blade that looked sharp enough to cut stone. Anthony felt his muscles tense as he approached, touching the tip of the knife onto his thigh. Through gritted teeth and quick swallows of air, Flamingo began, “You, are just a little ant being crushed by my foot ever so slowly,” Anthony felt his skin begin to break, “Soon, my foot will finally come down and when that happens,” Flamingo looked up into the eyes of the other, “do you know what you’ll be?”
It was rhetorical.
The blade was quickly shoved far into Anthony’s thigh he could have sworn it touched bone. Blood sprayed upwards, landing as high as his chin and even onto the concrete below. Screams were long gone now, all he could do was cry. Everything burned. He felt light-headed. Was this his eternity now?
“You’ll be
DEAD”
Anthony hardly heard the threat. Was it even a threat at this point? His head was static on an old television. Only one thing made itself clear in his mind, he would be found. Through heavy pants, he finally manages to speak, “They… They will come for me…”
Flamingo had already moved from his side, cleaning off the knife with a dark red rag. He turned his head slightly as he continued, “And who is ‘they’?”
“Jake. A-and the others, they’ll find me…”
Flamingo burst into a fit of laughter, calming himself after a few moments, “Please. Take it from me, Anthony, betrayal in life is common. One moment you’re having a beer with your best bud, next you’re lying alone in a gutter gasping for air.”
Anthony struggled to keep his eyes open, they were still pouring from the pain of his two wounds. Still, he attempted to speak, “What does… death have to do with friendship.?”
“You want to hear a silly little story, Anthony?” Flamingo turned, sitting cross-legged in front of the tied-up boy. He stared up expectantly, waiting for something to continue. Wincing, Anthony finally gave a small nod and he quickly began talking.
“I had a friend once. We would sneak out to parties and do nasty things with girls.” He paused, taking a sharp breath before he kept going, “A couple of months later he told me he had to leave town for some kind of business. Y’know what he didn’t tell me about? The gang he fled town from. They cornered me and beat me up until I was gasping for air in the sewers.”
“Shit.”
“Don't start pitying me, you’ll never know real pain as I do. Remember I can always gut you like a fish, it's just far more fun to keep you alive. To let you suffer.” Another cold blade ran along Anthony’s skin, this time along his jawline. It wasn’t as bad anymore, his breath was slowly steadying.
“I do know what real pain is. Everybody does…” He scowled, trying to prod him a little bit more, “You’re just a pathetic sack of shit.”
Flamingo stared at Anthony, blank-stared before allowing a grin. “You’re pushing it~” he sang, picking up yet another knife to twirl in his fingers.
Anthony mustered up the rest of his strength to spit next to the other’s shoe. Flamingo cocked a brow, hesitating for a moment before easing his way behind the chair and untying the knots he’d done only an hour or so before. Picking up the weaker and shoving him towards where he spat and held the blade in the crook of his neck.
“Clean it up.”
Jake had crow's feet under his eyes, far darker than before. The last time he’d left his desk was when his best friend had been taken, and he needed to find him
now.
How could he have been so blind? Anthony was struggling under Flamingo’s grip, even with the self-defence classes nobody could have broken out of it. Jake leaned forward and rested his forehead on the desk when a small sound of static broke his thoughts.
“J-Jayin-g-gee come i-in”
He sat up instantly, tapping his earpiece that he’d forgotten to take out the night before, “Anthony? Anthony is that you? Are you okay? Where are you?”
“He-He’s holding me c-captive… In s-some abandoned building… may-maybe fifth street..?”
Jake could tell Anthony was weak. His voice was broken and sounded rougher than he’d ever heard. Before he could ask anything else, the other end gained a second voice.
“What are you doing now? Didn’t I say make them
shine?
God, maybe you are better off dead!”
Then everything was silent.
Jake frantically stood, knocking numerous papers off his desk as he ran for Agent Leah’s office. It was excruciating how long the elevator took, but as soon as her floor rolled around he made quick work of the way-to-long hallway and broke through the woman’s door.
“Wow, you look crazy. Did you need something or just want to make a grand entrance?” She looked him up and down. Stained pyjama pants did not look good right now.
“I-” Jake panted, putting his finger up before continuing, “I have Russo’s location.”
And that was enough to get her moving. The two had a quick costume change and added concealed weapons for both short and long ranges. Jake was panicking far more than Agent Leah as they headed out the doors rushing to the first car in sight.
“What’s our lead?” Agent Leah asked as Jake swerved through traffic. The dinging from the seatbelt alarm was ignored by both as he was going far above the speed limit.
“I got him on the earpiece for like twenty seconds. Then I'm assuming Flamingo showed up and cut it off.” Jake mumbled, eyes glued on what was in front of him, only lighting up at the sight of the tall, run-down building that was long abandoned.
The two got out of their respective doors, harshly grabbing their guns and pointing them out at nothing just yet. Jake took a deep breath, beginning to creep forwards into the still, humid air inside. His muscles couldn’t relax. His eyes were narrow. His breath was shallow.
Nothing.
A shiver ran through Jake’s entire body.
Agent Leah called his name, motioning for him to follow her up a newly discovered flight of stairs. It threatened to break at any moment as they gingerly made their way along.
Nothing.
He went up the next flight of stairs, hearing a small ringing in his ears due to the deafening silence.
And then the next.
And the next.
Jake felt his feet begin to drag. Was he wrong? Was he just imagining the voice of his best friend whos probably dead? He wasn’t sad. Just guilty. He’d brought Leah all the way here for nothing.
And yet, the sound of nothing seemed to end as a call for help was soft above them.
“He’s alive.” Jake mumbled, “Holy shit he’s alive.”
They soared up the flights, not daring to wait a moment longer in fear of what might happen. Finally, on the 7th floor stood a man towering over a shaking Anthony. Blood slipped off the end of a long blade just above his partner’s arm, it was all too real for Jake.
“Hold it! Hands in the air Flamingo!”
The psycho turned towards the newcomers, laying the stained knife on a table parallel to Anthony and backed away. Agent Leah hurried and untied the battered and bruised boy, holding him close as if he was a kitten on the side of the road.
“Take him. I mean, I don’t need him anymore.” Flamingo shrugged, beginning to turn away from the group. Jake, however, walked forward with his gun still high,
“What’s your deal Flamingo? You’re just a sad, poor, stubborn mother fucker that blames the world for his problems.”
He flipped around on his heels, glaring at Jake though stayed silent. Jake quickly took note of it, “No snarky comebacks now?”
He adjusted his mask, “Stop.”
Jake moved closer, “What’s the matter? Am I… Scaring you?”
The response he gained was nothing more than a stare. It was as though Flamingo was trying to contain himself from lashing out.
He continued small steps forward, “Take off that stupid mask and show your face.”
“Stop,” Flamingo repeated, his breathing began sounding laboured.
Jake reached the tip of his gun and touched the side of his pink mask, “come on, then we can all go home.”
“I SAID STOP!”
Flamingo howled, shoving the nozzle of Jake’s gun away, causing him to topple over, “Touch me again and I’ll rip that pretty little arm off
with my BARE FUCKING HANDS.”
Scrambling on the floor, Jake struggled to stand up and was forced to defend himself from the cold concrete. Shakily, he pointed his weapon at Flamingo, trying to steady his breathing.
“Listen here you noisy little
rats,”
he hissed, hardly a foot away from Jake, “stop means stop. When I tell you to do something you do it. Alright?”
The group was silent, Anthony still shaking with fear as Flamingo turned around and began packing. It wasn’t much, just his knives and clothing in a duffle bag that was soon slung over his shoulder. Looking back once more, he smiled, adjusted his mask, and sprinted towards the nearest window.
It shattered on impact, spurting glass both inside and outside the building. Jake quickly stood and rushed forward to see anything, maybe a sign or a clue of where he’d gone this time but just like before he was left with disappointment.
“Are you fucking kidding me.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It wasn’t long until the trio had made it back into a shared office, jotting down notes and brainstorming anything that may be useful. Anthony was the best source, but Jake suggested he should take it easy due to the deep wounds along his legs and neck. This was, of course, ignored.
“Whenever I mentioned his wife, it was like my words were hurting him physically,” Anthony mentioned, re-wrapping one of his bandages along his arm.
“He uses a lot of personal shit against you, right? Maybe it would work against him too?” Agent Leah chimed in, scribbling something down quickly before turning to Jake for his input.
Jake was not sitting like the other two, instead, he paced up at down the wall. It took him a moment to respond to the new topic brought up, “he hates being called out on things, maybe if we ‘gang up’ on him, we can lower his defences.”
Silence stayed for only a second. Everybody running through their thoughts before Agent Leah spoke up again, going off of Jake’s idea, “We might need more people on this mission.”
Both of the guys nodded, however, Jake motioned for Anthony to stay behind. Walking was a struggle, let alone the amount of pain he must be in. He felt guilt every time he saw his friend's shape, it was his fault he couldn’t save him fast enough. That wasn’t important now. Currently, he and Agent Leah had to go gain a few more participants through the bossman.
The walk between Jake’s office and his Boss’ is far shorter than Agent Leah’s and anywhere, letting them arrive with little wasted time. He knocked and entered after hearing the very distinct, “Come in,” their boss was known for.
“Good evening sir, we were wondering if there was any way we could grab a few more agents onto Operation 56’s case? It’s far bigger than expected.” Leah pleaded, putting on her most professional tone while simultaneously having puppy-dog eyes. To Jake's surprise, it worked oddly well. They got sent to Spectrum C, to meet up with a group led by a guy named Ethan who was bored out of their mind lately.
Jake left Leah to grab Anthony, letting her deal with the introductions and whatnot. They were slow, but that was fine. Most of Anthony’s weight was shifted onto Jake as they walked, he hobbled along until eventually, Jake decided to pick him up bridal-style and carry him the rest of the way. Agents walking past gave the two a weird look before turning away and they didn’t mind, even the receptionist for Spectrum C was confused about what was going on.
Arriving at the doorway to Ethan’s office, Jake delicately placed Anthony down against the wall and waited a moment to catch his breath. Soon enough, they entered the room and it stunned Jake like a flashbang. It was huge. Five normal-sized desks were able to fit, plus a mini-vending machine and normal office supplies. A rather young, skinny pale boy ran up to the two and reached out to shake their hands,
“Ah! Jake and Anthony! So great to meet you! Please, take a seat,” (supposedly) Ethan motioned for the two to sit with the rest of the group before naming them as he walked by, “there is Elijah, Alex, Denis, and Braden.”
Each corresponding person smiled and waved, to which Anthony smiled back cheerfully. The meetup was short though, considering Jake had to get everybody on the same page as soon as they could, “So, Ethan, we’ve had two encounters with Flamingo. One of which he beat up Anthony, and the secound- most recent one- was when he jumped out of a window.”
Jake laid out the group's notes, images, and just general information about the criminal they’d be hunting. Ethan walked over, examining them as Elijah chimed in, “We’ve only had one encounter with the guy. That dude is a fucking psychopath! Who’d even hire him as an assassin anyway?”
“Doesn’t matter now, we need to find him again. We planned to gang up on him mentally.” Leah mentioned, passing the info around the table of people.
Chatter began to fill the room, everybody chiming in now and then with different ideas on how the team would be able to do such things. A couple of jokes were thrown out in an attempt to lighten the mood, which worked for a short amount of time. Eventually, they agreed to do more research on their killer, they barely knew whether or not he was working for somebody else.
Elsewhere, in a large, single-story house with tearing wallpaper and a musty scent, sat an excited Flamingo on a sleek black laptop. Through various websites (and maybe a few cameras), he learned about the large group now on his tail. Like a child getting a new toy, he clapped happily and spoke out loud, “Goody! More people after me!”
With a giggle, he decided to look into his new favourite member of the team, Jake. Flamingo’s smile quickly faded at the sight of his background, “Such a normal life, lucky ducky.”
Suddenly, a thought passed his mind, what if he sent them a message himself? An easier way to get them close enough to slit their throat. A few more minutes of snooping led him straight towards Jacob Green’s personal phone number.
“Beautiful,” Flamingo purred.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Sam’s group had left Jake in a cheery mood as he went home. Sitting on his couch with a quick beer, Jake turned on some random tv show- probably a kid's show considering the low-quality animation- when his phone began to ring. This wasn’t odd to him, he got calls all the time, yet the
No Caller ID
name made him shiver. Cautiously, the brunette raised the phone to his ear with a firm, “Hello?”
Nothing but light breathing came from the other end.
“Hello?”
“Jake~”
responded an oddly cheery voice, it sounded familiar.
“Who is this?”
“You already forgot about me~?”
oh. It was him.
“Flamingo?” Jake asked, holding his breath to keep his voice steady. How did he get this number? What other information did this psycho have of him?
A cheery giggle answered his question, along with a small series of claps. As if he was running out of time, the man on the other end of the phone started talking faster,
“Do ‘ya have time for a meet-up? I miss your pretty face~”
“Depends.”
“So serious,”
Flamingo purred, his tone flirtatious as he continued,
“Just meet me at the abandoned place at the end of 11th Street in about 10 minutes. Alone, or I’ll make sure you’re alone.”
Jake didn’t have time to agree to this meeting, the call ended far too soon. Should he tell Anthony? No, it was too dangerous. He had to go now to be there on time.
He knew better than to make a criminal angry.
Quickly, he changed into more casual clothing- a hoodie and sweats- along with a revolver hidden in his pocket and his CIA badge slung over his head. His mind raced and his heart was beating out of his chest as he made his way out of the house.
Jake didn’t bother to question why the address given was close to his house, besides the serial killer had his phone number, and began his walk. It wasn’t long, only about 10 minutes or so until the large broken-down apartment appeared in his line of sight. Slowing his pace, Jake ran through multiple situations that might occur, though he never stopped on any to deem the most plausible.
Cautiously, he opened the front doors and was greeted with silence. A large, open space with torn-up carpet, warped floorboards and a scratched counter at the complete other end. It was bigger on the inside than it looked. The thought of a serial killer ready to pounce at any moment. His knives draw shapes into his thighs and arms. Blood-covered gloves and sweats. Screams going unnoticed.
It was terrifying.
But Jake couldn’t let anybody know.
He could already feel the tears prick in his eyes, the memories of what had happened the last time the two had met up face-to-face.
Why did he come alone?
Fuck.
His body was on auto-pilot, guiding him around and instinctively up the sets of stairs nearby. Jake’s mind wouldn’t give up, it flashed images of his pained best friend and how he could barely walk.
His eyes began to water.
Suddenly, a voice broke through him. It was quiet and cheery, almost in a mocking tone as it called out his name once more.
“Oh, Jake~ you made it.”
Jake didn’t respond, his mouth was dry.
“Nothing to say? Maybe you’ll talk when we see each other.”
the voice cooed, it was getting louder with every step the brunette took,
“Just a couple more~”
What was he getting himself into? Oh fuck. Everything creaked and moaned at the touch, enough to the point it gave Jake mass amounts of paranoia. Every so often, (presumably) Flamingo would encourage him in an oddly sinister tone, causing the man to keep his hand hovered over the hidden weapon.
Finally, when there wasn’t another set of stairs, sat a door. Partially opened, with a small amount of light beaming out through the crack. It was obvious who was in there, yet Jake hesitated to open it.
Breathe Jake. Come on.
You can buy so much ice cream later.
Get this done. And
live.
The door wasn’t heavy, quite the opposite in fact, and the dim lighting was from a candle set on the side of a wilting table. Rectangular, with the grain no longer visible. On the other end of the table sat a man devoured by shadows, the only thing telling Jake somebody was there was a light pink and white flamingo mask.
“Please. Have a seat.”
A light-skinned hand emerged from the darkness in order to gesture lightly to the chair positioned in front of the taller one. The chair facing directly towards his target.
Jake did as told, carefully shuffling forward and sitting lightly on the edge of the foldable chair. His legs were tense, yet bouncing. His arms were uncomfortable in every position he placed them in. Jake struggled to keep his eye-line steady with the mask.
Surprisingly, the same pale hand reached forward to the middle of the table. It lay still as if waiting for something. Jake stared for a moment before gingerly removing his gun from his pocket and placing it in the palm of the other. It was as if he could feel the smile radiating off of Flamingo.
Jake was unable to speak, though he had many things to say. He could only watch as his main source of defense was tossed across the room, into the darkness.
“I do like you, you know.”
Eyes widening, Jake remained speechless.
“You’re... Different.” he sat back in the chair, hanging an arm over the backside, “From the others at your job, I mean.”
“What? What do you mean?” Jake asked, his voice husky and dry. It was as if he hadn’t said a word in years rather than barely an hour.
Flamingo was quiet for a moment, standing and circling the vulnerable man, his hands brushing along Jake’s arms and shoulders as he made his way around, “You could’ve shot me. So, so many times. Yet, you didn’t. Why is that?”
Silence.
“Do you like your job, Jacob?”
Jake stared up at the masked fellow as he made his way back to his seat.
“Do you like working for an ignorant boss? Risking your life just for the sake of a silly mission? What about being reprimanded when you step even a centimetre out of line?”
“Of course I like my job,” Jake responded simply after a long pause. Whether he believed it or not wasn’t important, he had to seem even a little bit confident.
“You like doing things even when you know it’s not the right thing to do?” A hint of sadness hit the man's tone for a brief moment. As if pity was what Jake needed right now.
Flamingo was left with the familiar silence from the other. They sat for a moment in the tension-filled room before the masked man spoke once more,
“Is something the matter?”
Jake breathed heavily, his nervousness catching up to him. He tried to keep his voice steady- though failed and let out a shaky, “no.”
There it was again, the familiar silence.
Jake counted the seconds in his mind to calm himself.
Twenty-one, twenty-two…
Flamingo stared blankly, was he waiting for him to speak first?
Forty-three, forty-for…
Jake held the gaze as best he could, considering he couldn’t see any eyes.
Sixty-five, sixty-six…
Flamingo sat with his legs crossed, only illuminated by the dim orange glow. His hands were easier to see, much paler compared to the black combat pants and black hoodie. Neither contained a logo, nor a stain from the looks of it.
Eighty-seven, eighty-eight…
Jake sat with his usual man-spread, though his legs were bouncing unevenly. He’d opted to place his hands into his pants pockets, though they were still uncomfortable. They were tense and tugging at the inner lining of the pocket.
Ninety-nine, one hundr-
BANG
Flamingo’s hand was stretched out on the table, breaking into Jake’s counting session. Had he been counting too?
“What drives a person to the point of becoming heartless?”
Jake assumed it was another rhetorical question as the other stood up to yet again circle the table. Jake watched him closely as he continued to speak.
“When you start out with no parents, tossed around from foster home to foster home you gain depression,” Flamingo began to slowly crack each of his knuckles, “finding out your best friend was never there for you and helped you get beat up makes you suicidal,”
crack, pop,
“dropping out of school drives you to the very edge,”
crack, crack, pop,
“yet you still manage to find the love of your life,”
pop, crack,
“but that happiness too gets ripped away in a matter of seconds. Leaving you heartless.”
“Is it all about your wife?”
Crack,
“No” Flamingo’s voice was firm, and collected, with a hint of anger. Exactly what Jake wanted his tone to be, “I didn’t bring you here to talk about the past.”
“So what is this about?”
“I brought you here to ask you to join me.”