Chapter 5: Stepping Into the Underworld
"Huh," I let any conversations topics I had lull into the back of mind, just decided to enjoy the drive to wherever we were going. jIt was only after what felt like half an hour at least that the conversation actually picked up again, this time Ben starting with a statement that I hadn't expected him to.
"I've been looking over some of the things you've said," he said, his hands shifting around the steering wheel so he could make a right turn. "And I can't help but wonder if you've made a mistake."
"Mistake?"
"Yeah," his eyes briefly swept over to me before going back to the road. "We're assuming that your powers are something that you got when you were abducted, from the abducted. I'm just pointing out that… could be wrong."
"Think I'd noticed being super tough," My reply with far more emotion than I intended to, sounding rough when I really didn't feel all that angry. I was more depressed than anything else, more drained. It felt like I needed something to pick me up.
Some excitement.
Suddenly Ben pulled into a parking lot, stopping the car in a spot so it was alone on a row of empty parking spots. As he got out, I went to follow him, closing the door much harsher than I ever intended to but thankfully not so hard that I'd worry about breaking it.
"Maybe they got you," Ben spoke again, continuing his line of questioning that I'd almost though dropped seconds ago. "Maybe you panicked, maybe you'd always had these powers and only needed to be stressed to unlock them? All I'm saying is that we don't know that the people that took you, also were the ones that gave you powers."
"That it could have happened afterward," Nodding I let my eyes peering at the tar-black ground. "Given that I've seemed to have lost years of my life. That's sensible enough."
"Exactly, the combined trauma robbing you of your memories. But there's still some leads that we can follow, ones that… " Ben trailed off as he spotted another car coming into the park, his eyes narrowing as he tried to make out who exactly had arrived. "... are connected to a story that I'm already working on."
Ben's frown turned into a smile as the older redhead from yesterday stepped out of the newly arrived car. A hard grimace on his face as he walked towards us with his hands in his coat's pockets.
"O'Reilly," Ben said, his tone low while his eyes roamed at the pockets with only a small amount of concern. "It's good to see that you could make it," With a hand extended and a serious expression over their faces, the two shook.
"Well… we need to move quickly," O'Reilly replied, his eyes only looking to me for a single moment before coming back to Urich. "Is the kid trustworthy?"
As they stopped shaking hands, I was going to respond to O'Reilly with a snipe at his age, maybe something about his greying hair but Ben beat me to making any sort of noise by making a loud chuckle.
"That any way to thank someone that saved our lives yesterday?"
"That's how I keep that life," Was the redhead's response, dry but somehow with plenty of heat to spare. "Constantly vigilant, for all I know, the kids' a plant that's here to find what I told you."
x-x-x
(Jim O'Reilly)
"It's nice to meet you again, Mr. O'Reilly," The young man held his hand, something that caused Jim to roll his eyes. "I'm Pat, Pat Doyle."
The older man could hear the accent, could tell just by the way the younger man's tongue rolled that he was dealing with some direct from Ireland.
But that didn't give Jim anything else to work off, so he just stood there and stared at the outstretched hand, letting awkwardness sink into the air as the seconds passed by.
Eventually, the redhead decided to throw a bone to the young man, but with an old Irish spin. His hand grasped around the boy's and he shook it none too gently, rolling fingers around his knuckles… or at least attempting to.
"Jesus, you've got a strong hand," The older man let out with a pain-filled grunt, his hand hurting on the immovable object that was Pat's hand.
"Have you forgotten that I'm… like super durable?" Pat stared at Jim, his eyes blinking a sort of innocence that the older man would expect out of a young child. Something about the way he stared at him, his eyes piercing but lacking any real sting.
"Nope," Jim wheezed, trying to play off his actions. Letting go of Doyle's hand with only a small grimace to show that he was harmed at all. "Just showing you a real Irish handshake."
"Reminds me of home," Pat winked, something that Jim hadn't expected, with a small grin on his face.
It caused the older man to take in the lad's features once more, especially now that Doyle was both clean and wearing clothes that didn't look like they'd been found in a swamp. "Everybody failing to intermediate me, next thing will need to do is have a few blokes ask me if I think I could beat them in a fight."
"That happen a lot in Ireland?" Urich asked, his face too amused for what should've been a serious meeting for Jim's taste.
"More than you'd think," The youngest among shrugged, brushing some of his overly long hair out of his eyes. "But less than you'd fear. So… what's the situation?"
Jim glared at the lad now, his blue eyes staring dead into the brown ones that Pat had. He waited for some response, for the younger man to shift his eyes away, to show some kind of weakness. But Doyle gave away nothing at all.
"Pat," Urich sighed out, causing the lad to turn and face the man, saving Jim from losing a staring contest. "A bit more decorum, please."
"Right," The newcomer said in such a polite tone that Jim almost didn't notice the almost inhuman way the man didn't blink. Something that Doyle had been doing fine for the last few seconds, but it seemed to have caught up with him since then. "Sorry about that Mr. O'Reilly."
"It's fine," he ground out, his teeth grinding together from the stress. "Your right to rush anyway, never know if someone we won't like will arrive. So… has Urich told you the situation?"
"Nope."
"Well," Jim reached into his pocket, grabbing at a loose cigarette that he then brought to his lips. "See… I'm a man that works for a certain group, one that has its business in the seedy side of the world-"
"Irish Mafia," Doyle interrupted him, causing Jim to freeze while the younger just kept nodding his head rapidly. "Got it."
"Right then," he sighed out once more, something that Jim noticed Urich found amusing.
"Well, my bosses have paid off certain people, I don't have any names, but they're high off in the police, in the mayor's office, the D.A and they've even hinted at having a man on the inside of the FBI."
"Must be have something big in mind if they're doing all that?" Doyle questioned, his eyes lifting up to the sky suddenly, a motion that was too much of a jerk to have been a normal reaction to anything going on.
"It's human trafficking, selling young girls to the highest bidder, sometimes even young boys," Jime explained, taking in a deep puff from his cigarette before blowing out a science fair volcano's worth of smoke into the sky. "Not something that I thought we'd be involved in when I was a young boy."
"That why you came forward to Mr. Urich?"
"Yeah, Jim's conscience is a bit too big for the life he lives," Urich spoke up, though his voice was light in tone, his face was as serious as the subject truly demanded of him.
"I've got my own girl, I can't stand the thought of someone taking her from me," Jim felt the need to explain. "And so I can't condone doing it to other people."
"See… I'm guessing that there's a problem here?" Doyle questioned, letting the heel of his left foot grind into the ground in a swirling motion. "Otherwise Mr. Urich would've just released all this to the papers."
"Right in one," Urich responded, snapping his fingers together as he did so. "See I can't print any of this without proof, something to collaborate Jim's story. Sadly, he can't come forward with his name or anyone's name and while he could give the location the girls are coming through…"
"Still have only the word of an anonymous source?" The youngest amongst them scratched at his nose, not enough to break skin but only enough that the nose moved back and forth slightly. "What about pics?"
"Tried to get them past my editor but he ain't going to bite on them without a source that can name themselves."
"Video evidence?"
"Hey," Jim erupted out, his voice showcasing how annoyed he was by the idea of it. "You know how much trouble it was to get some pictures of the place, I've made no secret that I'm against it. It would be far too supercilious for me to carry a camcorder."
"How about the old fire trick?" Jim's respect for the id went up a few notches with such a ballsy suggestion. "Start a fire, say you heard gunfire, some girls screaming, would get both firefighters and some cops down there to look at things."
"Too risky to the girls in there," Urich came to shut down that idea with the reason they'd decided against. "And especially when the fire would need to be somewhere that the gang left guarding wouldn't able to deal with themselves before the fire brigand gets there."
"So… what about a different kind of disturbance?" The younger man started to pace before them. "I could go in there, make a lot of noise when they start shooting me… you can call in the cops."
"And you'll get away how?" Jim found himself asking before Doyle let out a wide smile, bent his legs and then… leaped up.
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