XI

November 9, 2016

0800 Hours

Jir slammed the metal door closed on Dan. The anger in him passed through like a phase. Now, in its place, was a numbness that he felt often when alone. On the nights where his wife was crying in their bedroom, and he sat there in the lounge drinking whiskey in his robes.

“Anything else I can get you, sir?” A man behind the bar said. Jir looked up from staring at the burnt orange liquid in his glass. He swiveled whatever liquid there was left, and downed the drink.

“Yes, another Old Fashioned.” The bartender nodded, grabbing the empty drink and filling it with sugar and bitters, and then adding whiskey. He handed Jir the drink, and he took it and drank half of it right there. The bartender took a cup from a rack, and started cleaning it with a towel. In the silence, the cries of Jir’s wife resonated from the bedroom. The bartender tensed up, not really wanting to hear the cries of a woman. He’s only been here for a couple of weeks, and this was considered normal. He couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Not that it’s any of my business, sir. Bu-”

“You’re damn right it’s none of your business,” Jir said, cutting the bartender off. He swallowed the glass whole, and then put it down for the bartender to make another. “It’s George, right?”

“Y-yes,” George replied, picking up the glass to mix Jir a new whiskey.

“Okay George,” Jir said, reaching into his outside pocket on his robes. His fingers grasped a cold, heavy metal object, and started lifting it from his pocket. George eyed the movement out of the corner of his eye. He tried not to get nervous, but he couldn’t help shaking a little. “You’re going to listen to me.” George nodded his head as Jir pulled his personalized handgun. It was a SW22 Victory Handgun that had the initials J.H. on the end of the barrel. Jir patted the gun, staring at George with an emotionless look.

“You’re opinion in this building is invalid. You belong to me, and you’re lucky I’m in a good mood right now or I would’ve shot you in an instant. Now here are some ground rules.” Jir stared at George, and noticed he was scared. He smiled. George slowly scooted Jir his drink, which he drank in gulp.

“Don’t talk to me about my personal business. If you do, I will kill you. Don’t reveal my address to anyone ever. If you do, I will kill you. Don’t recount anything that may happen in this penthouse. If you do, I will-”

“Kill me?” Asked George, assuming what Jir was going to say. Jir stared at George in disbelief.

“Don’t you ever interrupt me. If you do, I will kill you.” Jir grunted. “Lucky for you, you didn’t know that rule.” Jir grabbed his handgun and placed it back into his pocket. When he did that, George relaxed with a slight sigh of relief.

“Not to be rude, sir. But I’ve been here for six weeks now. Why tell me all of this now?”

Jir stared at George.

“I only noticed you here tonight.” With that, Jir got up and was making his way to his bedroom. George saw him leave, and felt relieved.

As Jir walked away, George whispered to himself, “Probably gonna abuse her some more, the poor girl.”

George didn’t notice, as he was cleaning the glasses, but Jir stopped where he was. He hung his head, almost exasperated. He quickly pulled out his gun, aimed, and shot George square in the head. George’s head whiplashed as the bullet penetrated his skull, and into his brain. Eerie silence was filled after the heavy thud of George’s body on the ground. Jir was staring at the spot where George’s blood was. He sighed as he realized he needed to clean that. Jir pressed a button in his other pocket, signaling for his men to come get the body and dump it in the Hudson River.

Jir continued his walk into his bedroom, and found his wife cowering behind the bed. He rolled his eyes, placed the smoking gun on the table by the door, and started undressing.

“Come on, let’s do this.”

“Hey there Mr.,” a voice said, snapping Jir out of his memory. Hannah walked right past Jir, and gave him a slight wink as she swayed her hips down the hall. Jir stood there, unmoving. He sighed, and figured it was time to check on the detective’s phones to see if any progress was made.

“Dr. Hardy,” Jir said as he entered the lab. Hardy looked up from the computer, and through his thin, small-framed glasses, he found Jir at the door.

“Ah, good to see you again,” Hardy said before returning to the computer. Jir looked around the lab as he walked to the computer Hardy was focused on.

“You should really have a garage sale,” Jir remarked, making Hardy scoff.

“Half of these electronics aren’t safe in civilian hands. Believe me,” Hardy said.

The lab was covered in broken pieces of machinery and inventions Hardy has made for the company over the years. The newest machines, such as an alarm system that has voices made to scare off burglars, were sitting closest to the central table. Unlike the old machines, like the toaster that can tell the time and weather in three different locations, that were stuffed in the corners and were piled with dust. The central table consisted of thick cables running into one monitor sitting comfortably in the middle of the table. Everywhere the cables weren’t, there were miscellaneous tools and small parts. Sitting on a clear platform on the table, sat two iPhones. One was Dan’s, and the other James’. A cable ran from the charging port to the monitor, allowing Hardy to see all the information on the phones. Text messages, phone calls, voicemails, browser history, etc.

Jir was glaring at the lines of coding Hardy was crunching in, and seemed unhappy. Jir was an impatient man, and wanted the information now.

“How long is this going to take, Hardy?” Jir asked impatiently. Hardy shrugged his shoulders, and kept typing.

“Maybe a few more minutes. Hour tops,” he commented. Jir sighed. “Look man, if you a problem with my coding, oh well. I’m the best damn codder you’ve ever seen. I’ve been here for the past ten years, therefore you can’t get rid of me. I’m practically irreplaceable.” Jir looked at Hardy with unbelieving eyes.

“Everyone is replaceable.” Jir said. He stood straight up, then left the room. When the metallic door closed behind Jir, he stopped walking. Turning around, Jir saw the panel that controlled everything going on in the room. He went up to the controls, and turned the camera on. He saw Hardy punching numbers and letters into the console trying his hardest to get the results.

“Not hard enough,” Jir said to himself. He swiped left, and found the gas control. Jir looked at his watch and noticed it was 8:15 A.M. “An hour tops, huh?” Jir asked. He looked up at the gas control, and set it to release carbon dioxide at 9:30 A.M. He then went to the locking system a few screens to the right, and set it to Admin Lock whenever the door closes the next time.

“Replaceable my a*s.” Jir said as he got on his phone, and dialed one of his contacts.

“Hello, sir?” The person on the other line said.

“I need you to find me a coder. A _good_ and fast coder.” Jir explained.

“What about Hardy, sir?”

“Don’t question me, just do it.” Jir half-yelled. He hung up the phone, and continued to walk to the surveillance room to see what the brothers were up to.

Charlie kept staring at the blinking numbers on the lower right of the camera. The same white eight stayed in its place along with the zero and seven to the right of it. The colon flashing in the middle of those numbers is what was mesmerizing Charlie.

A door opened to the surveillance room, snapping Charlie out of his daze. Hannah walked in, swaying her hips back and forth. Charlie sighed, and went back to watching the time, which went forward a minute.

"Expecting someone else, brother?" Hannah asked. She hopped onto the table, and observed her brother being bored. Charlie shook his head slowly.

"It was more of a sigh of relief. Jir's a little loco if you ask me," Charlie said. Hannah giggled.

"Well of course he is! He's rich, and powerful, and very influential. It would be a surprise of he wasn't crazy. Don't worry though, as long as we're getting paid. That's all that matters, right?" She explained. Charlie nodded his head, but his gut told him not really. If it was any other job, he wouldn't care about the boss, or the captives. But for whatever reason, he seemed to keep getting attached to Dan and James. Maybe it was when he saw Jir kick around Dan like he was nothing. That messed with him on a moral level.

"Have you seen how Jir treats them?" Charlie asked Hannah. Hannah shrugged, got out a filer, and started to file her nails. Charlie thought about it for a few seconds. "Watch this."

Charlie pulled up the video of Dan and Jir as Hannah watched with a curious eye.

The throbbing in James' head was less now, yet he couldn't feel anything in his hands, nor legs. Everything felt numb.

"You gotta figure out who this Sanine person is, sonny." A feeble voice said. James looked up and saw an old lady standing there. James was confuse on how she got here without him noticing, but he decided that they probably did something to him that caused delusions. However, how she knew he was thinking about Sanine was a mystery.

"How do you know who I am?" James asked. The old lady rolled her eyes behind her black glasses, and walked up to James.

"I just do. Let's not talk about us though. Let's talk about this mysterious Sanine, shall we?" The old lady asked. James nodded, to weak to even comprehend coherent thoughts.

"Good, so what do we know about her so far?" The lady asked. James didn't speak, so she spoke for him. "Well, we know that the stolen console was most likely a fraud. That this Sanine person told Rogers to take the blame, but why James? Why?"

"Look lady, I don't really know."

"Oh, but yes you do! You just have to think." James groaned.

"I don't want to think, it hurts my brain."

"Get over it you wuss." James stared at the old lady with a neutral look.

"Okay, fine. Let's eliminate some people, shall we? Can't be Rogers, we already listed him out. Rogers wife, maybe, but not probable. Even though they're criminals, they love each other. I think she would've confessed for Rogers if she did it."

"What does that leaves us?"

"Well, that leaves us with..." James snapped open his eyes. His brain went into overdrive, and he started to feel again in his legs from all the energy.

"With who, sonny?"

"Kathy." James said, with a smile.

Dan lied there on the ground, beaten up and defeated. The last time he was this miserable, he got his a*s kicked by Tommy Lee his junior year of High School. His chest is where most of the damage was concentrated at. Jir's boots were heavy, and had a metal tip on them. He didn't feel any broken ribs, but they were definitely bruised.

The darkness gave himself some thinking time. About who he is as a person. Dan wasn't perfect, and he knew that. Thinking about himself in the dark has given him insight on how he could potentially change his life. Maybe not be so violent. Know what's right and what's not right in the world of justice.

There was a cramp in his legs, but he hasn't moved ever since Jir left, as he was afraid to disturb the pain inside him. At this point, he couldn't help it. He repositioned his legs, and in effect, moved his hands slightly out of instinct. The ropes around his wrists moved loosely, and Dan froze.

You gotta be kidding me. Dan thought. He moves his hands some more, and the rope around his wrists loosened even more. An exciting energy surged through Dan, relieving him of some of his pain. He twisted his left hand, and pulled up, causing it to come right out of the rope. He then used that hand to help get his right hand out.

Dan stood up suddenly, but leaned back to the wall out of pain. His head spun a little bit from the sudden rush of vertigo. He put his hands on the cold wall to balance himself. There was a light irritation on his wrists where the ropes were, but nothing too bad.

The room was dark, so he couldn't see where anything was, but he can figure out where the door was from memory. As far as he knew, it was straight in front of him.

"I'm going to get out of here," Dan told himself.

Somewhere at a prison in the middle of nowhere, a black limo waited outside the walls. A buzzer rang out, indicating that the gate to the prison was opening. As soon as the metal was done retracting, a man stepped out. He breathed in the air around him, and sighed with relief. He eyed the limo, and smiled.

"It's about time," Rogers said. With a twinkle in his eye, he made his way to the car parked there. The driver got out, made his way to the back doors, and opened them for Rogers.

"Here you are good sir," the man said as he opened the door. Rogers tipped him off with an invisible hat, and went into the limousine.

The inside was nicely furbished with a champagne ice box in the front, and glasses on racks with the initial "S" on them. The seats were made up of a nice leather, and the carpet wasn't cheap either.

Rogers walked in, and plumped down on the seat that was closest to him. He looked around, and noticed a person sitting by the front. She had on a large fur coat, complete with high heels, skinny pants, and sunglasses that blocked almost all light. She took them off when she heard Rogers walk in, and stared at him with her blue eyes.

"I'm glad we can finally meet in person, Mr. Rogers," She said. Rogers smiled.

"Me too, lady. It's about time I met you. First of all, just call me Rogers. Second of all, thank you for getting me out of there, it was just," Rogers stuck out his tongue while pointing down with his thumb, "And last of all, I have some questions for you."

"Well, this is going to be a long ride, as we have to make a quick pitstop somewhere, so we have plenty of time to discuss whatever you want." She explained.

The driver got in the car, and peeled away from the prison. The big gate closed with a loud rattle. It just so happened that the prison's most beloved employee, Hank Tyler, resigned that same day.