Fall Foretold

New Kid In Town

Getting drunk was never a thing for him. He could take a thousand shots, all day long, but he would remain vigilant, every moment. Cyrus took one last gulp, reading a text message from his phone. He dropped the glass on the ground, breaking it in pieces. The bartender could only stare, putting all the queries in her eyes. Cyrus stood up, furiously, tightening his grip on his phone like he’d break it too.

The dancers continued. Virtually everyone was so high that only a pulse grenade could put them back in their right senses. Cyrus walked out of the pub, fuming and shoving drunk sluts aside. He entered his temporary shelter, right behind the pub.

"Bienvenue, Monsieur Martinez", Npama greeted in French, wearing a broad smile. He was tied to a seat so he wouldn't escape and they made sure he couldn't move his hands, in case he had some sort of magic in his hands.

"Curse you, i***t!", Cyrus said and walked to his front. "Have you been leaving your room?"

"Thank your boys. They've been doing a great job keeping me in" Npama replied, still smiling. "As you can see, I'm tied up for the moment"

"Then, how would you explain this?", he said, showing the text message to Npama. His phone beeped, again. There was a new message. A picture was sent to him from the same person. "Now, who's this clown?"

It was the masked man. "Left to me that’s some guy in a pretty nice costume", Npama replied, expressionlessly. "I saw this coming, already". The phone rang. Cyrus had a call from the same person who sent the messages. "Hi, Ashwood"

"Did you get the messages I sent?"

"Yes. What more do you have about this guy?"

"You really should keep yourself updated. Whoever it is, he came for you so you better stay hidden "

"Don't worry. He looks young. I don’t think he knows who he's dealing with. The underworld is no child’s play”

"He definitely knows what he was saying when he asked for the key. And if he's confidently coming against the underworld, then he believes in something. Besides, if he survived a jump from over twenty floors, we should be scared”

"Ok, whatever!. Just keep me updated"

"I will. I will also have my team manipulating the news in our favour. Not only the underworld will be against him. We will turn the world against him"

The call ended there. "Davis!", Cyrus called and grabbed a seat before Npama. "Davis!... Monaco!"

Elvis walked out of the room with two cigarettes in his mouth, holding a bottle of gin. "They are in the pub"

"Get me Davis", Cyrus ordered. "It's time to give him a promotion".

Elvis headed out. Cyrus relaxed on his seat, smiling as he stared at Npama.

"I'll miss you, Madrid", he said. "You were able to know when I wouldn't do it. You should see this one coming too"

"What do you want from me?", Npama asked. His face remained blankly inscrutable.

"The same thing I've been asking for... which you have refused to give. Answers"

"I am a priest chosen to direct my people and keep them on the train tracks that the gods have designed. I am destined to see ahead so we don't derail and I have given all I can give to keep the balance"

"Then, worry no more. It's time to end your pain".

Elvis walked in, followed by the shy-faced David.

"You asked for me", Davis said.

Cyrus pulled two pistols out of his pants and tossed the two, at once, to Davis. Davis caught the two and Cyrus walked up to him. "Do it at the Fall", he whispered. "If you spare him, I'll know and I'll do it at the Fall"

Cyrus turned. "Goodbye, Madrid. Davis will take you home"

Davis dipped the guns in his back pockets and untied Npama. He was about to make his first killing. No financial success in this ?. A literal killing.

He covered the pistols, properly, with his long pullover. They walked like chatmates so no one suspected. There were only a few people to walk by though, in the town.

The cold breeze predicted the approach to their destination. There was no one in sight. Davis pulled out one of the pistols, pointing it at Npama's neck. They stood at the edge of the cliff. A waterfall was on the opposite side.

"You are afraid", Npama said, fearlessly. "You won't do it"

"You only have a minute to say your last prayers", Davis replied, coldly.

"When you see him, tell him I said the game is only beginning", Npama said.

"See who? My boss?"

"No. The man in the picture. The man behind the mask. He'll come for you"

They were silent for a short while. He pressed the tip of the gun on Npama's neck and whispered, "Leave here if you survive this. Never come back". He pushed Npama off the cliff and shot twice at the air.

★

His eyes had only opened halfway, slowly coming back to reality. Facing up, an huge spider appeared to be hanging on it's web, sliding down from the ceilings and heading for his face. He sprung his back up, as if the spider was about to claw into his head.

"Ugh!", he relaxed. It was just the fan on the ceiling. There was more than enough reasons to be afraid, these days. Lately, he had been seeing weird things in his sleep and, even, in reality.

He looked out, through the window. There had been a storm, the previous night, predicting a heavy rain. The expected rain didn't happen. The land was as dry as a normal day would be. The sun was yet to show it's face, while the day was bright, anyway.

He walked to the door, locked it, and slid under his bed, into the already opened underground vault.

He coughed and sneezed, as dust got in his nose. "I've got to do something to this place", he said, looking around the wide room. It seemed bigger than his own room which was literally standing above it. He dusted the portrait. It was the picture of an old man, he didn't recognize.

He belched. The taste of sausage and pastry filled his mouth, like he was about to regurgitate a food he never ate. He hadn't tasted anything since he got up from bed, 'except from the dust that welcomed' him into the vault. Neither did he eat anything close to sausage roll for dinner.

"I'll be back for you", he said, referring to the vault, and walked back up into his room. Immediately he got under the bed, someone was already knocking.

"I'm coming!", he shouted. He had climbed up, just in time. "Good morning, dad".

"Hey, son. We are late for church, you know?"

?He had forgot Sunday. "Oh. I don't think I'll be able to come to church, today"

"Why?". He needed to find a good reason for that if he would be allowed to stay back.

"I'm sick. I got morning flu but, thank God, it only lasts a few hours so I should recover before you get back", Joe said, adding a fake shiver to his lie. No one would fall for that.

"I'm not your mother, Joe", Mr, Ryan said, whispering. "I'm literate"

"Hey!!!", Mrs. Ryan howled from her room, like she had heard the discussion. "I have a university degree!!!". Oops! She heard?.

★

After a lot of sweet praise songs, the pastor began the sermon. It was a prophecy but, to most of the listeners, it was a repetition. Either ways, it sounded like a good fantasy story to Joe. Even the story of Jesus.

"Forgive me, Lord", he muttered. He considered the thought as blasphemy and doubt.

There were a lot of murmurings of doubt among the crowd, Joe could hear, but he wanted to believe.

"You may think it's just told again and again but if it's a prophecy, it will happen. The Bible says 'Heaven and Earth may pass away'. Trust me, if truly this prophecy was inspired by God, if the earth will end in a day, the prophecy will come before then.... I've heard this and I have been saying it since my first year as an ordained priest, I have no doubts in mind. The angel will drop amidst us when we can't see him coming. He will bring out the Antichrist, slay the beast, and make it's disciples fall on their knees..... Some may try to be an hybrid of light and darkness, sitting amidst us. It's not possible to mix"

It had been a very long time; almost fifteen years since the prophecy was first told. Like St. Sylvester said, they wouldn't see it coming since no one was expecting a winged man to fall through his ceilings, anymore. Church ended with a short final prayer.

The 'News man', as Joe chose to call him, was yet to deliver the newspapers for them. Joe checked for that first. He was hoping to read the news and see something new about the mysterious masked man. He looked through his windows, frequently, to make sure he saw the newspapers before his dad got it.

His dad had paid the publishing company and newspapers were delivered to him, daily, lasting for six months. He laid on his bed, thinking of how to ask Laura about the mysterious masked man from the papers, and from his dream. He had a a thought about it. 'Something is wrong, somewhere'. It's either he didn't dream about it or the idea of it in the papers was part of the dream.

He checked a pile of old books in his room, where he had kept the newspaper. The story was right there, staring back at him.

There was a knock on the door. Not his door. It was from downstairs; the main door into the house. He rushed to his window and looked down. It was the newspapers deliverer.

"Hey!", he whispered so his parents wouldn't hear him. "News man! News man!"

The guy looked up and saw him.

"Stop knocking!", he said slowly, to make sure every word he said was clear. "Pass the-"

The main door opened. "Hey, Billy. Thank you", his father said, putting five dollars in his hand

"Thank you, sir"

Joe had to wait for a few more hours to get the papers. The news he wanted was right there.

MASKED MAN AIDS THE ESCAPE OF RUSSIAN EX-CONVICT; CEDRIC KLITCHKO VLADIMIR

★

A draft of the day's news report laid on his table. He also had a cup of coffee and a pile of work for the day. He had carefully put his mind in the article, being a fan of mysteries and fantasies, though his job required the complete truth. He wrote his name, David McMidday, in bold capital letters so the readers have "No excuse not to know who brought this to you"

"How does that help anything? People just read the news", his colleague, Jonas told him. "Sincerely, even if your name is the topic, the prologue, and the total point of the story, people would still skip... People like me might read, though... and forget, seconds later"

"Bullshit! Lois Lane got known, somehow, right?", David said. "Or should I say, Clark Kent!"

"That was because she had a Superman. Clark Kent was never known as a journalist"

"Hey, Dave!", a man walked in. Their boss; Stan Ashwood. "Your article; you might have to bring that down. Write on this. We are publishing this, instead".

Stan dropped a paper on his table. It was a complete opposite of the topic he had written on; although it addressed the same thing.

"Are you kidding?", His mouth gaped. "I'm sorry, sir, but this is a complete opposite of what actually happened. it's wrong information!"

"I am the boss here and I give the orders. Tear that piece and write on this, it's an order", Stan said and turned, walking out.

"Sorry but we’re not done here", David called him back. "That man assisted. How would we know his motives if we give out wrong info about him?"

"What motives?", he turned. "You were here, the other day. You know what? Forget about it. I'll get someone else on it"

"No way. It's my report. You can't just-"

"Hey! You are suspended"

Stan walked out, leaving his words to sink in David's head. He didn't see that coming. He definitely loved the job and the money than his fantasies or the truth he was defending.

Jonas just looked, wondering what to say to the awkward moment. "I'm sorry, Dave. What are you going to do now?""

"I'll just go home and rest", David replied, packing up his things. "Thank you, Jonas"

ELEVEN HOURS EARLIER

Loud trap music blared out in the spooky shadows. It was almost impossible for the nights to stay silent. There was either the clubhouse or Helen Store to keep the ears busy.

There were people in the store, at the late hour. There was always someone buying something , as if they took turns. Customers walked in and out of the store. A man in a black hoodie, walked in. His face was hidden.

Immediately he stepped in the store, the lights blinked twice. Everyone stopped and looked up, wondering what might have happened. Then, the lights went off , totally. The speakers Lalso stopped giving sound. No one was enjoying the trap music, though.

The lights came back on, a few seconds later. A cashier found 4 dollars on his desk. The money wasn't there before the lights went off, neither was it part of the money he had counted. He cautiously dipped the money in his pocket, avoiding the weird cameras. Whatever happened, he would deal with it but a sausage roll is missing and the hooded man is nowhere to be found. No one noticed.

There was a hot car chase going on. The cops had been ordered to capture a 'psychotic criminal' who had illegally crossed borders; a Russian ex-convict named Cedric Vladimir. Running from the cops for committing a crime, he committed another one.

"Get out of the car!", he had said, as though he sensed that the cops would come after him.

"Why would I do that?", the man objected, boldly. Cedric kept his gun hidden. His physique was intimidating enough to do the job.

"Because I need the car", he repeated. He didn't want to bring out the gun. "Get out"

"No", the man raised his phone. Cedric pulled the car door open and pulled the man out. "Let me alone. It's my car"

He threw the man aside, too easily. "It's mine, now"

John led a team, sending out three police cars to chase from different angles, predicting his turnings.

A police car had approached him from the front. He shot at them, distracting them, as they bent to dodge, then he simply drove past them.

John had his car behind the prey, close and almost catching up. Cedric turned and shot at the glass, making John slow down for a second.

The cop shot back at the wheels, but he missed. Cedric must have seen it coming.

They began to exchange gunfire, tearing through the loud music. Cedric was shooting to slow them down. John was shooting to stop Cedric so no one got hurt by the crossfire.

Cedric turned back again to confirm how close the cops were. Something heavy dropped on the car, startling him. The driving wheels had tilted and the car was heading for a building. He turned the wheels back on the road, ignoring the costumed .an on his car for a second.

"I'm really doing this", he raised his gun and shot at the man, repeatedly. The masked man put his hand on the glass, cracking it, immediately. The broken glasses fell into the car, on Cedric's body, distracting him, totally.

The masked man leaped off. John had seen that and his gl. His car was close and almost beside Cedric's.

Cedric drifted and hit a street light pole. The car turned and stopped. Cedric was busted.

John and other officers ran out of the car to get him. The masked man had left already.