Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Blood Red Storm ❯ If It's Not Broke, Don't Fix It ( Chapter 3 )

If It's Not Broke, Don't Fix It

 

Monday morning came too soon for Gale. Usually up at five, he was lucky he rose at all. The adrenaline had left his body as soon as he made it a safe distance from his crime scene. There had been so much blood. His clothes had stuck to him, blood and wet leather. Slick and cold yet sticky, he quickly stripped and collapsed into the shower. Playing back the previous hours as he ran a bar of soap over his warming skin, Gale enjoyed reliving the old man's death.

 

The thought of taking a life, of actually going through with his plans, did not bother him in the slightest. He lived for death. Their death. He was far from being finished. A scowl marred his awaking features. Mika Knightly was next, but this would prove harder than dealing with Tatou. He shook his head and turned the water off. It was not the time for such thoughts.

 

* * * * *

 

Rolling into his parking space, Gale instantly wiped most emotion from his face. Whoever passed his vehicle would only see Gale O'Kirk, chief editor. The quiet, serious man, who came to work early, put as much time in to get his work done and then just as silently as he came he went. The stern set to his jaw and cold gaze kept every concerned busy-body away. No one said hi to him that didn't know him before Sean and Bastian died. He made sure they all kept their damned distance.

 

After that first week, they quit with their pitiful looks and sappy sentiments, didn't they Sean?

 

Coming through the doors, he had to quickly stifle the smile that wanted to appear at seeing so many people in at this early hour and running around like squirrels set on fire. Of course, he knew this would happen, had planned on it, and was amused to see it unfold as he had imagined. Every television was on, set to different news channels, and ever police scanner was switched on and turned up. Writers and editors alike scurried about, yelling locations and latest bits of information. Interns were sent running for extra computer ink and coffee and would be the entire day, was his guess.

 

Gale could have sighed and spun about the room. He hadn't felt this good in quite some time.

 

“Gale!”

 

Gale quickly slid his emotionless visage back into place as his assistant, Leslie, scurried to him with a stack of papers in hand. He grunted and gave her a nod, pushing his pony tail off of his shoulder. “Yes, Leslie? What is it now?”

 

Leslie fumbled with her coffee as his words almost sent her work to the floor. “What? You mean you haven't heard?” A growl came from her boss and she soon found herself the target of his intense, slightly annoyed, gaze.

 

“I don't have time for this, Les. Now, stop with the guessing games and spit it out or leave me alone. I have mountains of work to do.” He didn't, but his co-workers expected nothing less from the workaholic.

 

“For Heaven's sake, Mr. O'Kirk! Do you watch the news at all?” Leslie looked at him as if he was a little bit special. But really, how could Gale O'Kirk, self-made King of Pearl news, not be aware of one of the biggest stories in years?

 

“To the point, Mrs. Anderson.”

 

Leslie rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated huff. His grouchiness never affected her. Or his mood swings. “Last night, there were reports that Andre Tatou went missing. Apparently he took a routine trip into Fallen Greenwich, which he has kept secret for who knows how long,” she spoke and kept up with her boss' long stride to his office.

 

“And?” Gale fished his keys from his pocket and shrugged, a gesture he knew annoyed the slightly younger woman. “People disappear all the time in Fallen Greenwich. You run the risk every time you go there. Why should I care that one man disappeared when twenty disappear every week out there?” Gale walked into his office, throwing his coat on the chair and Leslie following right after.

 

“Well, those twenty aren't billionaires, Sir,” Leslie chirped, forgetting her point at the moment.

 

“Millionaire, Les. He isn't the most frugal of men.” Gale made a show of his disinterest, riffling through the several articles in his in-box.

 

“He's dead, Sir.”

 

Gale looked up shocked because he was expected to. He did not disappoint Leslie and he almost chuckled. Who knew I was such a convincing liar, Sean? “Dead?”

 

“Dead, like, horribly-splattered-maimed-creepy circumstances-scandal dead, Sir.”

 

“Why scandal? I hardly think being murdered in a horrible way merits one to become subject of a scandal.” He sat at his desk, feeling he did his one good deed for the day when a look of satisfaction came over her face. She loved knowing things he didn't.

 

“Well, my uninformed employer, his mutilated body was found in a dodgier-than-usual slum in Wisteria Cove.” She let it go silent between them the fact that Wisteria Cove was where prostitutes were mainly found. Leslie rolled her eyes again, a gesture he had despised even before Sean and Bastian died, and leaned onto his desk. “Gale, there are rumors he had his own personal whore stashed there. A boy whore.”

 

“Was his whore found,” Gale pushed the word out as he sat back and steepled his hands, his professional, cynical manner still held onto. Shelby was not a whore and these people would never know the full truth. He had seen to that.

 

“No, but that's not all. Our sources also told us that Tatou was severely mutilated and there was something on his body that the killer left. It looks like this is probably the beginning of a serial killer.”

 

Yes, I guess that's what I am, eh Sean? A serial killer, because I am not close to being finished. “So, you're telling me that in less than twenty-four hours there has been a gruesome murder, a sex scandal, a missing witness possibly, and a first victim of a serial murderer? Get—”

 

Leslie interrupted him with a wave of her hand before turning for the door. “Already taken care of. Rory was out and doing her thing at five in the morning.”

 

Gale nodded as the door closed, sighing deeply in the privacy of his home away from home. He smiled all through his paper work before his late lunch hour.

 

* * * * *

 

Some people were just asking for trouble. Gale had watched the young man since he had parked his cherry red hybrid and hopped out of the driver's seat, still bopping around and singing whatever he had been playing. He was bright and sunny, lightening the scenery on the overcast day. He made his way to the ATM, completely oblivious to what part of town he was in and of the man slowly making his way toward him.

 

What a fucking tourist.

 

Gale could guess where this was going, he nearly rolled his eyes at the predictability. His burger and fries losing all of their appeal as he watched the shifty-eyed bum close in. The kid was actually shaking his ass while his potential killer stalked him. Gale looked around, hardly anyone else was in sight. Not that it would have mattered. If people were cold when he first came here, they honestly did not give a damn these days. It was this poor bastard or themselves.

 

Not as high-pitched as he imagined, the young man's startled cry was deep and strangled as he was knocked against the brick wall beside the machine. Gale was too far away to hear the actual exchange of words, but he almost barked out a laugh. From the sound of it, the kid was trying to talk the bum into calming down. Chewing on his straw as he drank, he watched a bit longer before standing. His milkshake was gone anyway.

 

* * * * *

 

“Don't fuck with me, you little shit!”

 

Great, just what he needed. An hour in Aquaria and his first stop resulted in this. Calen tried again to appear as non-threatening as possible. He didn't dare break eye contact with the older man in case it set him off again. This man was obviously more than just homeless. Disheveled and probably not bathed in a month or more, he was at least in his fifties. Calen watched as he shifted about and shook. This man should have been in an institution.

 

“Okay, Sir. I am very sorry.” Calen stayed pressed against the wall, hoping his assailant remained only verbally abusive. Where the Hell were the police, damn it!

 

“Just shut up, boy. Give me all you have in your wallet, and from the machine. Now!” Calen wasn't moving fast enough.

 

Shying away as much as he could from the jagged piece of concrete the man was waving at him, Calen began emptying his pockets. His attacker gestured for him to open his wallet, and he reached in to pull out and hand him over his money without question. Eight hundred was what he still had with him, but it didn't matter. That and the extra hundred were snatched and shoved into a smelly pocket.

 

“There you are, Sir. Now if you'll just let me go,” Calen would have loved to just run by him, but knew he would not make it even a step if this guy wanted to kill him.

 

“Did I say I was finished, you little bastard? Huh?” The man shouted, waving his hands around and lashing out, knocking Calen's sunglasses off. “You damn, rich punks! I bet you've never had to sleep in dumpsters or—”

 

Calen did not know what to do. He was preparing himself for a beating when suddenly his crazy attacker just stopped his raving. A pained sigh escaped his mouth and he fell down. Crumpled at his feet, Calen had no idea how to proceed after this. What the Hell just happened? Hearing an annoyed huff, he took his eyes away from the unconscious man to find a much taller man standing before him. His briefcase lowered from hitting the bum over the head with it.

 

* * * * *

 

“Try and be more careful next time.” Gale spoke slowly, as if talking to a child. He kept staring at the homeless guy when he should have run away.

 

Knocking him out of his thoughts, he looked up at him and Gale got a good look at the idiot. Pale blue eyes blinked up at him for a moment, registering all of what had just happened. His dark blonde hair had sheen even with the cloudy weather. His left ear had a small silver hoop. His white t-shirt and jeans were wrinkled and probably worn for more than a day. He looked once more at the man at his feet and then beamed up at him with a straight and bright smile.

 

“Thanks for that,” he said and stepped around him. He was halfway to his car when Gale managed to speak.

 

“What about your money?”

 

“I don't need it as much as he does.”

 

Gale nodded then stooped to grab his sunglasses. They were scratched, but still in very good condition. He held them up but the young man only smiled and shook his head as he got into his car.

 

“He can pawn those.” He crept along the street passed Gale, rolling his window down when he got close enough. “Thanks again!” With a flick of his hand, something shot out of the window to flutter onto the sidewalk.

 

Gale stood passively until the car was at a traffic light. From there he could here the music thumping. Shrugging, he picked up the card that had been thrown at him. Already he was regretting his choices he was making. Those eyes would bother him the rest of the day. Glancing at the card, a small smile graced his lips before he slipped it into his pocket. His week was getting more and more interesting.

 

Calen Fisher - Computer Programmer