The Hunting Wolf - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The rain poured down from the dark gloomy sky. A jet black sedan too posh to be in the suburbs pulled into the narrow and lonely alleyway. The driver got out with an umbrella held in his hand, hurried round to the passenger side and opened the door. Todd Cassidy stepped out onto the cold wet gravel road and buttoned his suit. He walked to a rusted metal door decorated with graffiti under the umbrella held by the driver. The sound of a latch being slid came from the other side of the door and the door opened with its hinges creaking. Todd walked in and turned around to face the driver.

“Come back in 2 hours’ time. Your son was sick and I gave you permission to visit and that’s what you were doing”. The driver nodded and went back to the car.

The corridor was dimly lit with writings scrawled all over the wall. A man dressed in a black suit shut the metal door close and bolted it as Todd walked down the corridor. At the end of the corridor to the right was a cemented staircase with cracks running all over it. Todd went up two floors. The smell of boiled cabbage and alcohol seemed to burn the hairs in his nostrils. Todd came to a carpeted floor which had lost its colour and looked dull – stains blotted parts of it. He looked at it in disgust as he walked on down to a door being guarded by another man dressed similar to the one guarding the door on the ground floor. The man nodded and opened the door for Todd.

He was greeted by the strong smell of cigar and a cloud of smoke. The room was rather small with just a small round table with two wooden chairs and a couch with a side table with a lone file on it. The table was set up near the French windows which were open to let the smoke out of the room. A cheaply framed painting of the civil war hung above the tiny fireplace with charcoal and ashes from a fire that died long ago. Major Dima was sat on one of the wooden chairs facing the window and puffed out smoke rings from his cigar. Commissioner Guillam was admiring the painting of the civil war while the Central Bank Governor Chamberlain sat across Dima at the table.

Dima turned around as the door shut behind Cassidy. “About time…” said Dima as he got up from his chair and walked over to the window. The other two men looked at Todd and greeted him with a nod.

“Gentlemen, apologies for the tardiness. Our guest should be arriving shortly; before that I would like to discuss a few things. By now it has been established that all four of us in this room will be the successors, granted everything goes as planned. Each of you will retain your positions in your respective fields with greater power and reward of course. This operation stays within the 4 of us and our guest. I hope that is clear.” Todd explained to the men who agreed with a nod. A long silence followed.

Major Dima took a long drag from his cigar and spoke “Say it all goes to hell… what then?”.

“I have the same question…” the Commissioner intervened with concern.

“Let’s not pretend here shall we? All of us here have something to gain from this. We are all motivated by our own gain ultimately. I have a gun pointed to each of your heads and so do each of you. If it does go to hell, then it’s every man for himself. The plan never happened and we continue on. If anyone plans on ratting out anyone then you know what is coming for you.” Cassidy replied sternly.

There was a knock on the door; the four men looked at the door. “That would be him.” Cassidy announced. Chamberlain got up and went over to the empty couch. The door was opened by the guard outside with one hand on the door knob and the other pressed against his hip holster. A tall man with wide shoulders walked in behind the guard. The wooden floor creaked under his powerful footsteps. He was wearing a khaki trench coat with a fedora which cast a shadow over his bearded face. 

“Ah Mr. Wolf! We have been expecting you!” exclaimed Todd as he walked over and gave him a firm handshake. The guard went back out and closed the door behind him. Wolf looked over the room and the other 3 men without saying a word.

“Please have a seat.” Todd offered the chair left vacant by Chamberlain. Wolf unbuttoned his trench coat and removed his hat which revealed a line running across from his left eyebrow down to his cheek. He walked over and took his seat. Major Dima turned his chair to face the room while putting out his cigar in the ash tray on the table. 

“Commissioner, if you would. Please” Todd gestured to Guillam who walked over to the side table and handed Todd the file which was on it. Todd opened it and laid it out in front of Wolf. His eyes seemed to deceive him as he stared at the picture laid out in front of him. He was astonished at the man these people wanted him to kill. Wolf quickly regained his composure before anyone in the room could see it and looked up at Cassidy.

“I’m sure you recognize the man.” Todd said to a calm Wolf.

“Of course…”

“Do we have a problem?” asked Dima with a scowl on his face trying to measure up Wolf.

“I’m not motivated politically nor patriotically. A high profile target, all I’m expecting is a high monetary reward. I do have some concerns however…” replied Wolf steel-faced.

“He will be at the Summit in two weeks’ time. They’re signing the treaty of solidarity at the Expo. We reckon that’s when it needs to be done.” Todd explained

 “Security will be taken care of by the Commissioner. He will make the necessary arrangements to cause a fault in the security surveillance system. The west wing of the Expo Hall has a wide glass exterior. I’ll leave you to pick the place and so on. Anything you need you go through me.” Todd now had a more assertive tone.

Wolf nodded “The money...?” he questioned.

Todd gestured to Chamberlain who spoke “Half of it before and half after the job is done, as agreed. The money should be there within the week through multiple deposits to your 

offshore accounts. The final pay will be at a safe deposit box at the bank of your choice.”

“Fair enough. If that is all; I shall be leaving now.” said Wolf as he stood up and grabbed the file. 

“Everything else you might need is in the file. You understand the gravity of the task set before you. It needs to be clean.” Todd reiterated.

“I understand” Wolf replied as he folded the file and tucked it away in his trench coat before buttoning it. He shook the hand of each of the men and knocked on the door. The door opened and Wolf proceeded out while wearing his fedora making sure it tilted slightly downwards to cover his face ever so slightly.

Major Dima got up and buttoned his army jacket. “I better get going. Long drive back”

“Very well then gentlemen. I expect your absolute co-ordination in the next few days. Chamberlain I trust you to make the payments as necessary. Commissioner and Major, the security detail and surveillance teams you will personally oversee and make the necessary adjustments. We will take this country by the throat and make it ours!” exclaimed Todd.

Outside, the rain had thinned to a slight drizzle as the clouds started to part leaving a massive hole in the sky. Pedestrians walked the streets with umbrellas of all colours and sizes. Wolf put up his collars to cover his neck from the cold. He passed his fingers over the coat where the file was tucked away and began walking along with the flow of pedestrians. He pulled out his flip phone from his upper coat pocket and dialed a number. 

“Wolf?” the voice of a woman answered the phone. Wolf had walked to a bridge that ran across the river. The water glimmered under the sun. The streets were now packed with people rushing to wherever they had to go.

“I need you to do something for me…” Wolf spoke into the phone as he blended into the crowd.

In the narrow alleyway, a jet black sedan pulled up as the rusted metal door swung open. 

The Hunting Wolf - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The crowds’ three syllable chants grew louder. Pickets, banners and posters stuck out from a sea of heads with the words “CHANGE!” painted on them in red and black. The protesters occupied the entire width of the road leading up to the State House. Lights flashed from the cameras of reporters on either side of the road with each reporter describing the current state of the event; creating a chaos of words that blended in with the chanting of “We want change!”. The white-washed walls of the State House seemed to tremble from the voices of the protesters. Within his office, President Damian sat brooding with his fingers crossed and elbows on the table; listening to the crowd. His greying hair was neatly combed to one side parted on the left. His pale, square-jawed face lacked emotion and the wide broad-shoulder body lacked any evidence of a soul. He slowly closed his eyes and seemed to shake himself loose of a great weight from his shoulder and reached over to the telephone beside him. “Get Todd to come in.” he ordered before cutting the call.

The door knob clicked and the door opened. A bald man dressed in a fitting grey suit walked in, his mannerism suggesting a soldier within the shell of a politician. “Mr. President” he acknowledged. “Shhh…” said the President “Listen!”. Both of them listened to the protesters. “I want this gone! The whole country seems to be against me; we need to change something… something radical. We’re less than 10 months from the next election. And I’m not planning on giving up this seat. You and I both know I’m going to run again and we need to win. I need loyalty and that seems like a short supply in this office nowadays…” Damian broke off and was engrossed in deep thought. 

“I’ll begin putting together a list of people we can sway, sir. Skeletons in the closet and what not.” replied Todd.

“That alone won’t do, in order to win the election, we need to win within the House and the voters’ approval…” Damian thought for a few moments in silence as Todd waited.

“Sir, I need not state my loyalty to you. All these years since you’ve been Mayor, I’ve never wavered. You’ve considered me your own son. I serve you and you alone” replied Todd in confidence.

“Oh I have full confidence in you Todd. It’s the rest I am worried about…” Damian was interrupted by the ringing of the phone.

“Mr. President sir, Major Dima is here and he says it’s urgent” said an electronic voice. 

“Send him in” 

A large-framed man walked in with his peak cap held in his left arm. His khaki suit was decorated with multiple coloured bars, medals and pins. His face was square with fat creeping around it due to old age with a scar near the end of his right eyebrow, the silvery hair on his head was cut neatly and swept back. Todd and Dima silently exchanged looks before Dima addressed the President.

“Sir, I need to brief you on the situation in Aleppo. The rest of the staff have already assembled in the Control Room”.

The President got up without saying a word to Todd. The men proceeded out of the room and moved through a corridor lined with paintings that illustrated the country’s history and culture. The elevator was already waiting for them when they arrived, the men got in and went down two floors. The protesters’ voices seemed non-existent now, in the basement. The corridor was darker even though it was well-lit, a heavy silence blanketed the entire floor. The men entered the room on their immediate right; Todd opened the door for both the President and Dima. The staff in the room all stood up as a show of respect to the President. “Please, sit down” said Damian as he took his seat at the head of the large oval table. In front of him was a screen with the satellite image of a map projected on to it.

Outside the State House, the crowd grew larger and angrier. The sidewalks were now scattered with people, young and old taking a break from the constant chanting and standing on their feet. The police riot squad stood lined up with their shields behind the invisible barrier between them and crowd. Men with kerchiefs tied to cover their faces from the nose downwards emerged from behind the protesters. A total of 5 men dressed in similar fashion with a brown beer bottle in each of their hands stood silent among the crowd. They exchanged a look between them and nodded. The cloth at the mouth of the bottles were lit. 

The sound of glass breaking and a loud eruption of flames startled the crowd as screaming and shouting ensued. The policemen began pushing forward with their line while being pelted with stones and pickets and glass. The younger men were now lighting firecrackers to startle the policemen and hurling it onto their shields, ducking for cover in between throws. The older and weaker protesters tried to flee the scene of chaos as they were caught in the cross fire. The loud flash bang from a smoke grenade echoed throughout the avenue as smoke filled the atmosphere and blanketed the air. People coughed and tears streamed down from the faces of those who breathed in the smoke.

 Men and women shouting the names of their loved ones in a desperate attempt to find each other. A lone riot policeman was caught by a gang of five young men as they forced his helmet off his head and began beating him with sticks and pelting him with stones. More policemen were dragged away from their formations as the crowd surrounded them from all sides. When they ran out of sticks and stones to throw, they resorted to punches and kicks. Dust covered the streets as blood trickled down into the metal-grilled drains on the sides of the road.  A child stood in the middle of the chaos covered in blood, crying and in shock. A bald man sat atop an officer with his helmet off grabbed the policeman’s baton and began to beat the man’s face as he screamed in pain; over and over again. For a moment, the attackers’ faces seemed to contort into something not entirely human. The avenue became a jungle and the men became animals where the law was to kill or be killed.

Back inside the State House, an assistant knocked on the door to the Control Room and whispered a few words to the General who had opened the door. He turned around and interrupted Major Dima who was pointing to a place on the map. “I’m sorry to interrupt sir but the situation outside has escalated.”

Re-enforcement arrived in large police trucks; the police now outnumbered the protesters. The crowds began to scatter retreating into the narrow and winding alleyways. Men in blue and black chasing civilians. The loud wailing of the ambulance sirens filled the avenue. The smoke had now cleared and bodies lay scattered on the road. Paramedics began attending to the bodies that still twitched. A lone flag stood fluttering in the wind on the side of the road; shredded and covered in blood. The wind picked up ever so slightly and the flag fell to the ground with a sound that seemed to echo for miles around...

The Sailor

Dedicated to Vignesh - "Be good to yourself because the whole world will try to put you down" 

How long has it been? I would ask myself; every day of every week for every month that passed.
124 days it had been since I stepped off land and went to sea. And 1 day it had been since I started feeling this way. Lost at sea, not in body but in mind. The world seemed to shrink and crumble down. All that I thought I knew to be true, now, no longer were. All that I believed would happen were now lost and never ever to be found. Along came the 5 stages of Grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. Living in denial for weeks - months. The quickness of how it all happened, like a quick stab to the heart - one would not even know until he started bleeding. It left me in disbelief - that all that was happening around me and to me were real. Every day would become a struggle; mentally, physically and emotionally. Draining me of all my energy. Pain would become a friend through the course of this period. The only thing that gave me comfort.

Waking up at 7 am to start the day and working till around 8 pm. The jobs that were more laborious in terms of physical strength would become a favourite because of the physical pain involved. Holding the jet chisel, chipping away rust till your arms were numb or fixing things with your bare hands until something pricked you and cut you. The more cuts and bruises you had the better, And when all of that ended, I would go back to my cabin. The tiny cabin in which you were free to do whatever you wanted - to yourself...
Days with bad weather were welcomed with happiness because it makes you feel absolutely horrible. Constant churning of your innards, dizziness, nausea, lack of appetite. I have now come to accept that I'm a horrible person for doing the things I've done. Intrinsically a bad person who just can't stop fucking things up. It was hard to try and act normal through it all. You could not show that something was wrong to others, they would be concerned and would start asking questions - did not want that. Practiced smiling and laughing in the mirror. Short smile, wide smile, giggle, laughter each suited to various situations. That is how you got through.

You also lose faith in this period. That if there were really a God out there then would he not do something about this? Why would he let a person go through it? Why would he do it to you? Why has he not done something to stop it. God is not real. If he is, he does not care about you and you have no right to be mad at him because you brought this upon yourself. You do not deserve mercy. You do not deserve compassion. You do not deserve happiness.You are the scum of the earth. You do not deserve to be respected as a human being.

Found a rusted cutter while cleaning out a drawer, hid it in my pocket till the day ended. Went back to my cabin that night, stripped myself of all clothes. Stared at my naked body in the mirror; that face that had done so many wrongs. Made small tiny cuts near the left wrist, then the right wrist. Working my way up the forearms - criss-crossing the lines as they went up. Deeper and deeper. This became a routine for every day of every week for 8 months. Having worked all the way up to my shoulders with the cuts and since they had not yet healed; I moved on to my torso and chest. The more the days went by the deeper the cuts became. The more I practiced smiling in the mirror...
I have sneaked out to the deck after work hours during sunset so it is relatively dark so people will not see and stood on the railings; wanting to jump, the hypothermia would get to me within minutes. It would have been a wonderful way to go - nobody would have realized until the next morning. I have screamed into pillows and when that was not enough I have gone down to the engine room with the engine roaring while the engineers slept and screamed and screamed till my lungs gave out and my throat felt like it was going to rip apart.

Somewhere in between, I re-learnt how to splice rope. Had a small 2 foot long rope now in my possession. I have lost track of how many times I have contemplated suicide. I have not done it because of friends and family who still cared. They do not deserve that - to go through something like that. I could be selfish like I have always been or live and possibly make them happy in the future. I no longer cared for myself. So suicide was out of the question but pain and suffering and punishment was not. New year's eve came around and I sat in the dark making a resolution; to die.  Not a quick death but a slow painful, suffering one. I would wrap the rope around my neck and pull on it. Pull on it till it strangled me. Eyes would go red, face would swell up from all the blood unable to flow back to the heart. Breathing becomes heavy, veins pop up and you feel a burning sensation neck up. Pull and hold it till your vision gets blurry near the edges and breathing becomes shallow - till your face is twisted into something unrecognizable then let go of the rope. Catch your breath, let the swelling go down. Repeat.

This was Depression...

I'm very thankful for all the people in my life who have stayed with me and put up with all that I put them through during this period. Thank you very much for everything. If you're reading this and you relate to it; just know that it gets better. It really does. Because you're stronger than you think you are right now. You're more capable in getting through this, I believe in you. No matter how hopeless it seems. Just know that there will always be people to help you back up, who care about you and for you. Take on the entire world.

Stranger - Part 2

Part 1 - http://wispywisdom.blogspot.sg/2016/06/stranger-part-1.html

My head feels like I just got off a roller-coaster and got shot in the head at the same time. Where the heck am I? My arm - that's a needle in there. Faded white tiles cover the wall in front of me. I hear a constant beeping, harmonized with my heartbeat. The smell of ethanol and sweet smelling soaps hit my nostrils making me nauseous. I get up and pull the needle out of my arm and tear the plasters on my chest and arm. The machine which was beeping is now giving a constant high-pitched tone. I walk over to the bathroom. I feel dizzy, like I'm walking for the first time. My legs buckle. I grab the sink for support and stand up. I lift my face to the mirror. My face...

MY FACE! WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY FACE! What did they do to me. My face has changed. My face. I don't look the same as before the crash. What happened? Did they give me plastic surgery? Did they change my face? NO! I no longer look like David Cross. Who?! Who did this? I'm screaming. I'm shouting. I punch the mirror in rage. The broken pieces of the mirror distorts the reflection; I'm even more unrecognizable. I hear the clattering footsteps rushing towards the room. Doctors and nurses hold me down. I'm screaming as loudly as I can while I'm flailing my arms and legs. One of them pulls out a syringe. I feel the needle in my forearm. Everything fades to black...

I wake up again. Feels like a dream. The same faded white tiles, the same smell of ethanol, the same beeping. A man is sitting beside the bed on my right. He smiles. He has a comb-over, glasses, shirt and tie and a white coat over it. "Mr. Cross? Hi, I'm Dr. Patel. You've been in a serious crash. Do you remember?". This is news to me. I'm Cross? What the fuck? But my face. My face was different from his when I looked in the mirror just then. I nod. "Your friend sadly did not survive the crash. I'm sorry." he says in an apologetic tone that seems like he's done this quite a number of times. I give a half-smile and frown. "Can I see his picture?" I ask. He nods and gestures asking me to wait and walks out the room. I try to move my arms but they're held down by leather straps. Same goes for my legs. I prop myself up as best I can. Dr. Patel walks back in.

He smiles; that stupid fucking smile. Starting to get on my nerves now. I'm perfectly fine. He's treating me like I've been traumatized or insane. Stop it! I don't need your sympathy. "After your episode, you understand we had to make sure you wouldn't go haywire again." he explains as he hands me the photograph. David Cross in the picture looks like how I used to look before I ended up in this hospital. But I no longer look like myself. This all doesn't make sense to me...

A few months later... 

So where are we now? Harborough Mental Health Facility, that's where we are. Been making some good progress. Doc says I'm doing very well. Been taking my medicines and I'm almost fully rehabilitated. Got used to my new face. I look pretty handsome if you ask me. Anyway, I went in to get my final assessment from Dr. Patel. He says I'm good to go. All I need to do now is wait for them to process my details and I'll be a new free man. They don't know I meant to kill Cross - or whatever his name was. Otherwise, this story would have gone in a whole other direction. Turns out I was David Cross all along. But I didn't own any of the cars and bungalow and shit. Just my name. David Cross, new reformed and rehabilitated man!

So a few days pass; they're still processing my stuff - finding me a place to live and a sponsor and what not. I was just minding my business, walking around the cafeteria. This guard, he's giving my the funny look from the other end of the cafeteria. I don't like it. I'm perfectly fine. Need to show him a thing or two. So I walk over to confront him and guess what? HE FUCKING LOOKS LIKE ME...

Stranger - Part 1

The loud droning of the alarm wakes me up. I don't know if I can call myself a morning person, it's all just a matter of habit and routine. Walk into the bathroom and I see my face; probably need a shave. What's so special about me? What sets me apart from the folk you see walking down the street? How am I anymore unique than them? There isn't much to it really, I'm just your average guy; a face in the crowd. You'd have passed by me in the street and your brain wouldn't even have registered that you've seen me. I might end up as a person in your dream; I don't know. They say the faces you see in your dreams are ones that you've seen but don't consciously remember. So maybe somewhere in somebody's dream I am a face to be remembered, to be recalled. I practice smiling in the mirror. Different smiles, for different situations, different levels of amusement. They can't know what's really going on in my head. Look at that fucking face, disgusting. I want to cut it up with a fucking knife. Scar it all over, cut it up beyond recognition. Become somebody else altogether maybe. Start over. Hmm.

Work is shit. It drains the life out of me but if I wasn't working what the fuck else would I be doing? You fucking no good loser. You deserve nothing, absolutely nothing. I sometimes wish life was better but at the same time, I sometimes feel like this is all I'm entitled to. I see Donna smiling and flirting with some guy as I walk past the' admin' desk. That fuckin' whore screwing every guy in the office; she'll get it from me. She will. What do I do, you ask? Oh not much really, a low-level scum in the corporate world. A paper pusher literally, a mail boy... Yeah I deliver fucking mail within the office building. A mail boy! A nobody. But how funny things work out; change after all is the only constant in all of our lives.

I was just going about my job. Went into the new guy's office, some high position - prick didn't even acknowledge my presence in the room. Why would you, right? He had his chair turned away from the door and was busy talking on the phone. I walk over and place this tube thing that had his name and I looked up at the glass window and I see his reflection. Multiple waves of pins seemed to go from my head down. He looked exactly like ME! Every single detail on his face. Holy shit... I couldn't believe my eyes. I blinked rapidly to make sure what I was seeing was true. "You can go now. Thanks." he tells me in his disdainful tone without even looking back.

This guy, David Cross; I needed to know more about this man. What he does, where he lives, who he's with. I am obsessed. I've been following him for a month now. His life! My God his life is amazing. What I'd give to have a life like that. Senior partner at the firm, a company car, a bungalow in the suburbs and his wife or partner or whatever. Oh my God! What I'd give to have that. I've incorporated this into my routine, every Monday and Wednesday night; I get off about 5 blocks from the house, jog up to the bungalow. I always dress like I'm going for a run - less suspicious. I've watched them through the bushes and crouched under their windows. I've seen him cook, seen her clean, watched them make love in the bedroom...

I do believe it to be fate or Providence maybe. That my - what do they call it? Some German sounding word - doppelganger has to be revealed to me and he ends up having a better life than me; practically everything that I want. Humans are in a never ending chase, spending their entire life trying to become happy. But they don't see it as having enough rather they find the need to have more than the other guy. That's what determines success and happiness. "I've made it!" means I'm better off than the rest of the filthy scum. We end up comparing whatever we have to everyone else around us. I know I'm unhappy. I'm sure Cross is unhappy too despite having everything I would want. He sure seems unhappy; I see it in the way he kisses her, the way he looks at his car or his house, the way he interacts with his "friends". He's tired of life as well. Look at him, lying unconscious in the passenger seat, all tied up. WE'RE GOING FOR A RIDE, DAVID! You're not coming back. I'm doing you a favour if you think about it. I'll gladly take your place! Get you away from this life that you so hate. You're crazy! Who me? I'm not crazy. I'm fine. Perfectly fine. New life. That job, the bungalow, this car all ours now! Going to fuck that broad first thing. HAHAHAHAHAHA...

I've been driving the Mercedes for a good 2 hours now along the highway. The drugs should last 4 hours. Enough time. We're far from the city now, I've turned into a side road away from the main highway. The roads are lined with thick dense woods on either side. Anywhere would be good. Just need a place to hide the car, in case someone comes along the road. Then it's bye-bye to you Mr. Cross. HAHA. Almost a peaceful way to go, if you ask me.
FUCK, He fucking woke up! What the fuck. I had 2 more hours. Motherfucker punched me in the eye. Can't fucking see where I'm going - am I bleeding?. Lost control of the car. I'm throwing my fist at him. I can feel my hand connect to his cheek. I'm frantically trying to steer with my other hand. Don't panic. We got this. Oh fuck...


Part 2 - http://wispywisdom.blogspot.sg/2016/06/stranger-part-2.html