I awoke slowly, feeling hot and sticky like a fat man wearing gimp suit. The day had started badly, but I felt refreshed after removing my rubber pyjamas and stepping into the shower. part of me was screaming out for a cigarette. Screaming for the sickly sweet hit that would make this crummy world seem less hopeless. I stopped screaming when the neighbours started to complain, then finished my shower. Perhaps dragging myself into the office would relieve some of this crippling monotony.
I picked myself off the ground and realised it would be much quicker to walk to the office. I had barely made it through the door, past all the unopened mail crammed in the letterbox, the homeless man crouched in the corridor drinking coffee, the 2 and a half legged stool that had been stolen and never been removed, the leaves that had blown in when the stool was placed too close to the door.. when I noticed something.... past the unopened mail, the homeless man drinking coffee, the wonky stool, the leaves and the woman waiting for me in my office... There was a woman waiting for me in my office.
The air was thick with smoke while She sat there lazily playing with a cigarette and drinking deeply from a bottle of vodka. Maybe it was intuition, or maybe it was experience but somehow I knew she had been drinking. I wondered if she had any cigarettes.
She had a firm figure, power dressed in the latest business fashion, hair curled in 50's style curls.
I said to myself, "this woman isn’t a day over 20".
"I’m 32 the woman replied"
Somehow, like all the people in my life, she could somehow hear my inner monologue.
"when you've finished talking to yourself, I need your help!" she interrupted. I wondered what she meant, but I knew I had a job to do.
"I need your help to find someone. His name is Cedrick and he went missing 3 days ago".
I knew this Cedrick wasn’t her husband but I was a detective and for the right money I would help. She looked like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. I found it un nerving that she felt so comfortable eating butter in my office, so I took the details and left the office making sure to lock the door so the homeless man wouldn’t get in again. Little did I know then, but when I returned to my office 2 weeks later some mad man was going to starve her to death and leave her in my office, strangely locking the door after him. There are some sick people in this world.
Cedrick was known all over the world, an ex racing driver / cowboy millionaire astronaut now all washed up, probably doing coke off a hookers back or sitting alone in a lonely motel room eating mash potato dreaming of the glory days.
For a job this big, i was going to need help. I knew just the man for the job. A man who could find a needle in a haystack or an uneaten lasagne in B-Team headquarters.
Unfortunately 3 years ago I had sold his entire collection of left handed forks to buy black market lasagne. Getting him to help me would take hours of persuading.
After a 5 minute phone call we were ready to start work.
Find out what happens next week, Same B-Team time, same B-Team place…
Iron Fist
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