(Epilogue to this RP: http://thelowerworld.com/index.php?threads/the-cold-hard-truth.405/))
Jericho Blake marched through the Toolbox headquarters until he reached his own office. He stepped in, closed the door, and sat at the large, tidily organized desk. From the top drawer he took a pair of Aviators and slipped them on. Too many hostile spirits lurked around these halls, and around his coworkers. He then opened the bottom drawer, and produced a bottle of Maker’s Mark and a shot glass. Though he remained free of expression, his normally rock-steady nerves were jangled. The hand quivered ever so slightly as he filled the shot glass almost to the brim, spilling a few drops of the bourbon on his desk.
The hand still shook slightly with pent-up emotions as he reached for the glass. His mind was hearing Jack’s words over and over. He was also remembering all the details that should have clued him in if he hadn’t been such a moron. Such as how, after a night of passionate lovemaking, his fiancée would wake up and say she was glad he was there, as they had been apart for so long. Memory lapses. Personality changes. And a man who dealt with ghosts and demons on a daily basis believed her when she said it was stress.
Next the guilt… At accepting every mission that came his way instead of delegating more. At not paying more attention to the clues. At his infidelity these last couple of months, which now he could tell this Hashimoto woman realized and somehow, twistedly, seemed to enjoy. And most of all, guilt at the realization that the woman had not had control of her body all the times they made love, and had not had a choice in her pregnancy. He felt like the worst rapist who ever lived.
But even stronger than his guilt was what felt like a cold, hollow space within his chest. Zoe wasn’t real. There was no Zoe. He was about to have a son, and he didn’t know what kind of family the boy would have. Because the life he had envisioned was impossible. And the worst part. “God DAMMIT. If she doesn’t exist, how come I love her so much…”
The hand started to raise the glass to his lips when both his phone and computer beeped the high priority email tone. He touched the mouse and the screen lit up.
Message from Director Glenisle
To: Code name Iwo Jima
Re: Incoming job request, Highest priority.
Interpol has tasked us with the sanction of one Enzo Vivoni, a 65 year old multi-millionaire industrialist from Milan. He was found guilty of multiple charges of sexual abuse of children. His targets were boys and girls aged 4-9. For sure 18 victims across Europe, but Interpol have evidence of at least 20 more around the world, as he traveled extensively. He was able to bribe a corrupt judge at the appeals court, and was set free. He has a flight to Brazil scheduled in 4 hours. The attachment has his whole file, including address, possible vehicles, and likely routes. You know what to do.
AG
PS: Mr. Blake, I understand if you delegate, and I’m sorry to intrude at this time.
Jericho Blake picked up the shot glass, and without spilling a drop, poured it back into the bottle. He replaced the cap and put it back in its drawer. He quickly shot an email off to Inga, his most trusted intern, to keep an eye on Zoe until he got back. He then checked the loads on the twin .45 Kimber Master Carry Pro pistols in his shoulder holsters, donned his suit jacket and brown tweed over coat. He then headed for the armory, and sent a text to Eye logistics to find out where the portal closest to Milan was and to arrange transportation. It was once more time to go to work.
Jericho Blake marched through the Toolbox headquarters until he reached his own office. He stepped in, closed the door, and sat at the large, tidily organized desk. From the top drawer he took a pair of Aviators and slipped them on. Too many hostile spirits lurked around these halls, and around his coworkers. He then opened the bottom drawer, and produced a bottle of Maker’s Mark and a shot glass. Though he remained free of expression, his normally rock-steady nerves were jangled. The hand quivered ever so slightly as he filled the shot glass almost to the brim, spilling a few drops of the bourbon on his desk.
The hand still shook slightly with pent-up emotions as he reached for the glass. His mind was hearing Jack’s words over and over. He was also remembering all the details that should have clued him in if he hadn’t been such a moron. Such as how, after a night of passionate lovemaking, his fiancée would wake up and say she was glad he was there, as they had been apart for so long. Memory lapses. Personality changes. And a man who dealt with ghosts and demons on a daily basis believed her when she said it was stress.
Next the guilt… At accepting every mission that came his way instead of delegating more. At not paying more attention to the clues. At his infidelity these last couple of months, which now he could tell this Hashimoto woman realized and somehow, twistedly, seemed to enjoy. And most of all, guilt at the realization that the woman had not had control of her body all the times they made love, and had not had a choice in her pregnancy. He felt like the worst rapist who ever lived.
But even stronger than his guilt was what felt like a cold, hollow space within his chest. Zoe wasn’t real. There was no Zoe. He was about to have a son, and he didn’t know what kind of family the boy would have. Because the life he had envisioned was impossible. And the worst part. “God DAMMIT. If she doesn’t exist, how come I love her so much…”
The hand started to raise the glass to his lips when both his phone and computer beeped the high priority email tone. He touched the mouse and the screen lit up.
Message from Director Glenisle
To: Code name Iwo Jima
Re: Incoming job request, Highest priority.
Interpol has tasked us with the sanction of one Enzo Vivoni, a 65 year old multi-millionaire industrialist from Milan. He was found guilty of multiple charges of sexual abuse of children. His targets were boys and girls aged 4-9. For sure 18 victims across Europe, but Interpol have evidence of at least 20 more around the world, as he traveled extensively. He was able to bribe a corrupt judge at the appeals court, and was set free. He has a flight to Brazil scheduled in 4 hours. The attachment has his whole file, including address, possible vehicles, and likely routes. You know what to do.
AG
PS: Mr. Blake, I understand if you delegate, and I’m sorry to intrude at this time.
Jericho Blake picked up the shot glass, and without spilling a drop, poured it back into the bottle. He replaced the cap and put it back in its drawer. He quickly shot an email off to Inga, his most trusted intern, to keep an eye on Zoe until he got back. He then checked the loads on the twin .45 Kimber Master Carry Pro pistols in his shoulder holsters, donned his suit jacket and brown tweed over coat. He then headed for the armory, and sent a text to Eye logistics to find out where the portal closest to Milan was and to arrange transportation. It was once more time to go to work.