I was walking around an unfamiliar place. A place I haven’t seen for years, and a place that isn’t easily forgotten. Walking down Fulton Street I see old drunken men in white jump suits and crazy loose old ladies in all white with masks over their faces.
"What has this place become?" I said to myself. I watched as the bus drove by. It was half empty with a Red Corp ad. The ad had Jason Red's face plastered on the side of it with the world in his hands. I thought they pasted old, corny, and repetitive advertising, but this was just my opinion.
Waiting for Papa C was like waiting for paint to dry. Long and boring. I've been standing watching people get in and out of cars and pulling a small black chip from their electronic junks of steel. People gliding around with their iPhones 3.0 on their electronic rugs. Just standing in one spot just shows me how dependent our world has become on elctronics.
"Yo!" Papa C shouted. I looked around. "Cross the street asshole!" I snapped back to reality and watched as an old friend slowly walked back into my life. The thought of returning to that lifestlye scared me.
Papa C wore a plain white button up shirt with white Adidas track shorts. He looked like he was coming right out a 2110 music video. Last time I saw him he was 5'6, but now he has shot up to be a tall 6 foot 180 pound man.
Papa C wasn't like anyone I've ever met. I haven't heard from him in years until he tracked me down and left a frantic message on my machine one day. I played that message over and over for two days straight trying to get up enough courage to make my return.
I greeted my old friend with a hug, and we both stared at each other for a while. We didn't know what to say or even know how to begin to start over our once too effortless friendship. Papa C gestured to the empty table in the old dinner. We walked in and sat at our usual booth like when we were kids.
"Remember this place?" Papa C asked with a smirk on his face. I noticed a scar on his right cheek. It was dark, and it ran from his ear to his chin.
"Where'd you get that scar?" I asked.
"Well, when you left I didn't have anyone watching my back anymore, and I made one small mistake, and I had to pay for it," he said quietly. I know by the look on his face that he didn't want to talk about it, so I decided not to push anymore.
The booth still had the red plastic cover over them with the baby blue stitching on the side. I took a glance under the worn out table to see two familiar faded letters carved on the wall. It said "P&A." Those words reminded me of when Papa C was my best friend when we were kids. We were almost brothers. When we drew our names on that wall I was happy. It was the happiest time of my life. Those names had meaning, but now looking at our names it only reminded me of our friendship now. Distant and faded.
"Are you going to order or is our food beneath you?"
"Come on man, I'm still me. I just haven't been here in while."
"Yea. Yea. Look, I'm not going to beat around the bush. I called you for a reason. I had to get you here. You're in danger, and it's my fault. I'm so sorry. I ran in deep with this asshole who owns the whole city."
"What are you talking about? Who "owns the city" and how am I in danger?"
"Jason Red. He's the msot powerful person in the city. He owns everything. He wins everything, and if you try and swindle him it will be a wrap."
"OK, but what did you do? Stop avoiding the question. Tell it to me straight."
"Jason and I got to being friends when you left. We got into a lot of things since you left."
"What have you been doing?! When I left we promised to stay clean. Out of trouble. That's why we did what we did!"
"I know. Avery, I don't need you giving me some big bullshit speech right now!" Papa C shouted.
Everyone's eyes were on us now. We got up and walked out, leaving money for food and reasonable tip on the table. Walking out the glass door and onto the dark streets of Brooklyn, I realized how different night-time Brooklyn has changed. It's like a smaller version of Times Square, all the lights, the broke down hot dog stands, men asking to take your pictures, and the horrible smell of bums sleeping in the abandoned subway.
"Jason knows we were close and he is trying to hurt everyone that knows me. I need your help man. I need to finish this once and for all. I'm tired of running, and I'm tired of looking over my shoulder. I need your help Avery. You owe me this because if it wasn't for me you'd still be living with your moms and picking up garbage for the rest of your life."
"Let's meet at my old apartment on Smith Street." We shook hands and headed in different directions.
What kind of trouble could Papa C really have gotten into that endangers everyone around him?
I walked up the old wooden steps, went through the broken down door and entered a small apartment I once used to live in. This place is old. The dust formed an alliance with all the ash around the house.
"I was here four yeas ago. In the same room. Angry. I was mad at the world. When they took MY father away for a crime he didn't commit. When I asked for help, everyone just looked at me. As if I was crazy, and they looked at me as if I was wrong. Those people took him away from me. Do you know what they said? It's 'Life,' and now you have to move on from this."
I knew Papa C was there and I wanted him to understand how difficult helping him was for me.
"I spent my whole life avoiding people like Jason. He has power, and he can make me and you disappear without leaing a single piece of evidence."
"Avery, look, all you're doing is creating reasons for you not to come help me. You're putting this low-life on a pedestal. You're doing what everyone in the town does, you letting the rumor of his 'power' intimidate you. Look, if you don't want to help me, fine, I'll do this myself."
My head jerked so fast toward Papa C's direction that I think I pulled something. That is a suicide mission. If Papa C went in by himself, it would take a miracle to come out.
"No. No, I'll come with you. There are rules though. I want to go in knowing that we have a plan. We're not kids anymore and neither is Jason. We need to come up with a plan."
"Plan? The plan is simple. Kill Jason before he kills you OR me!"
"Ok. How are we getting inside? You really think if Jason's guys saw us walking in the front entrance they wouldn't kill us then?"
"Ahh. We will be walking through the front entrance. In these."
That's when I noticed the big duffel bag by Papa C. He pulled two janitors outfits that looked identical to the uniforms that the workers wore down at Red Corp.
"I'm not even going to ask how you got those, but what bout our faces, genius?"
"You worry too much."
I never noticed how big Red Corp is. Our City Hall is right across the street and it doesn't even compare in size. It had 50 floors and tented windows, and if you were right at the top you can see the city. As we started walking toward the building my stomach began to feel tighter, my head was starting to sweat, and this dirty uniform was sticking to me. We walked in the building, went through security, and headed upstairs.
Something was wrong. I have a funny feeling, but I don't know why. That was way too easy, I figured trying to kill a multi-millionaire will be more exciting, and a little more challenging.
I must have spoken too soon. The alarm went off, the sound piercing my ears while the doors automatically close, and bright red light covered the room. I ran to the wall to set up beind the table. In that moment in time Jason walked into the room. I couldn't believe it. He walked so smooth and slowly as if he was invincible to bullets.
I had a funny feeling as I saw Papa C reach for his pistol. As Papa C tried to move his pistol from his bag I heared a bang. I dropped to the floor as I watched my best friend drop his gun in defeat. At that moment my life froze, and I felt nothing inside.
I hopped up in anger and ran toward Jason with all my spped. The anguish that seeped into my skin motivated me to tackle him to the ground. I raised my hand up to maliciously plow my fist into Jason's face. I wanted him to feel the pain I felt. He headbutted me in the face, and so we are both on our feet.
Now I don't remember where all that anxiety went because Jason is pounding the living hell out of me. I was slammed on the floor, punched in the mouth, and elbowed in the chest. Sooner or later we are still scuffling on the floor, hitting, kicking, doing everything we could to end it. I took one final punch and realized the position of the gun. I pushed Jason away and reached for the gun. By then Jason had realized what I was reaching for and tried to beat me to it.
I hopped up and cartwheeled across the room, grabbing the gun at the same itme. I turned and took to straight shots. Bang! Bang! Jason was hit two times directly in his chest.
Jason's body dropped to the floor making a loud thump. I ran over to look at the body, and I dropped the gun onto Jason's chest. I grabbed Papa C's keys and ran out of the building, leaving the evidence of the night that I will carry around with me forever.
Heading to the old garage I wondered if I made the right choice. I wondered if I could have changed everything and have Papa C driving me out of Brooklyn. I soon remembered why I left and was ready to drive and never look back.
"Was it the right choice?" I said to myself.
"Choice"