FanFiction.Net - unleash your imagination|
Author of 5 Stories |
The Right Back Alley
Leanne Ashley
“We might as well be strangers in another town
We might as well be living in a different world
We might as well…
We might as well…
We might as well…”
Keane
Slamming his office door ceremoniously behind him, he pulled off his black trench coat and stared tiredly at the sloppy, yet carefully tied up pile of folders on his desk. Normally, a rookie cop wouldn’t be given his own office, but he had connections… pretty powerful ones at that. Running a hand quickly through his dark brown hair, he took a seat and started pulling the stack of information apart.
There was a knock at the door before it swung open.
He glared up fiercely from his desk. His brutally cold sapphire eyes could give more than enough warning before his voice ever did.
The Chief of Police stood in his doorway with a pile of papers in one hand. In the other, he held a disgustingly huge cigar which he ashed casually onto the younger man’s office floor.
“You’re a cop, Squall. Why are you so eager on playing the detective for this case?”
Squall Leonhart leaned back in his chair and began to light a cigarette. “What was the weapon?” He asked, ignoring the Chief’s comment.
The Chief flipped quickly through his papers and closed the pile; he knew that was the only bit of ‘new’ information he could give the boy. “A really large blade this time… like a sword or something. Head was sliced clean off.”
A sword…“It gets better,” the Chief continued. “Flesh around the cut was scorched. Looks like some kind of heat was a factor.”
Squall sat up quickly in his chair. “Like a gunblade?”
“Yeah. Damn rare weapon… I think there’s only three or four of those in the world.”
Do your goddamn research. There’s only two.
“You need to know anything else? I’m on the verge of tracking a rapist.”
He sucked slowly on his cigarette before asking. Trying the boss’ patience was a sport. “…The ‘S’?”
“Carved on the victim’s thumb like always.”
“Thanks. I’ll figure the rest.” Squall murmured as he patted the huge stack of papers.
With a low grunt, the Chief left his office.
After hearing the loud reassuring ‘crash’ of his door closing, Squall quickly resumed examining the folders infront of him.
Blah, blah, blah… He hated written information. Reading page after page of ‘boring’ inaccurate jabber was for an idiot cop. One glance at the words Victim unidentified was enough to tell him that he’d have to rely on himself for the facts.
At last, he found the crime scene photos and pushed everything else to the floor.
The first photo showed the body on the floor of an alley. Squall cocked his head and stared hard at the building shape in the foreground: Body was found in an alley on Galbadia Street…it’s the back alley of the Roses and Wine pub.
The second photo showed a close-up of the severed head. The victim’s mouth was wide-open in a state of frozen terror.
Squall didn’t flinch; he never did.
Victim is… He leaned back and rubbed the back of his neck. Vincent Deling, son of Vinzer Deling, underground leader of the Galbadia Syndicate… That fucker owed me fifty-four dollars.
He shrugged and closed the folder. Getting up quickly, he threw back on his jacket, tossed his cigarette and headed out the door.
While pushing his way through the noisy office building, the Chief called to him from the water-cooler.
“Find anything out, kid?”
Squall glanced at the older man from over his shoulder as he exited the building.
“Not a damn thing.”
Killed on Galbadia St, huh? Galbadia was his father’s territory. Ouch… that’s gotta be a blow to the old man.
Before I closed the pack of photos I saw a close-up of Vincent’s thumb: an S. There was always an S. After the deed was done, SeeD always liked to carve that particular letter on their victim’s thumb. It was a sort of trademark or twisted form of copyright. They wanted to be known and recognized for their work, but not traced.
What a sadistic group of minds.
I enter Roses and Wine with the usual cluster of drunks outside. With their obnoxious shouts and cheers you never would’ve known some poor bastard was slaughtered right behind them. People die a lot in this city… the bottle helps.
The bartender winks at me as I sit down. Selphie’s a rare one; that cheerful personality isn’t tainted by the mindless violence that surrounds her every night. She was smart. She didn’t have a head for numbers, but this girl always had the inside scoop… that meant she had something on everybody.
“You’re here early, Squall.”
“Not here for a drink, Selphie. I need some information.”
She glances hesitantly behind her and leans forward. Good old Selphie… she always knows something.
“About the murder outside, right? I told the cops I didn’t know a thing. I knew it was Deling’s son, but I’m not getting involved with anything.”
“So do I have to beg?”
She twirls a finger through that spunky brown hair of hers and smirks. Selphie relies on me to keep the real bad guys out of her bar. She gets my protection in exchange for her eyes and ears as a bartender. Of course I don’t have to beg.
“Before he was killed, Vincent was sitting up here complaining about his old man. Something about how his dad wanted him out of the Galbadia Syndicate because he wasn’t serious about anything.”
Something tells me I should go pay a visit to old Vinzer Deling.
I get off the barstool and hesitate. There was something else I wanted to know… Selphie knows everything, right? But I had no idea what I wanted to know until I just blurted it out like a jackass.
“Seen a girl with black hair and a white coat around?”
Of course, she wrinkles her nose at me. I don’t blame her… I don’t just randomly ask about girls like that.
“Black hair, white coat? I think you need to be more specific than that.”
Why the hell did I even ask…? I’ve got more important things to do.
“Never mind, forget it. I’ll see ya.”
I push open the doors and show myself out. It’s getting colder, but the snow seems to have stopped. I take a few steps before I automatically reach for my pocket and pull out a smoke. I wasn’t in a hurry to see Vinzer so I strolled to the back alley and lighted my cigarette.
My eyes wander to the floor. Vincent was probably standing right here before he got whacked.
“The only reason you can do what you want is because you’re the Mayor’s son.”
Now who the fuck said that? My eyes dart to the shadows of the alley and I hear the soft clicking of women’s heels coming my way.
She steps forward and my heart nearly stops in my chest. Midnight black hair, bright glowing skin, and shiny brown eyes: the girl in the white coat. She keeps her hands casually in her pockets as she stops a few feet from me. I can almost smell her; the faint aroma of vanilla and lilac almost disturbs me, but I keep my cool. Like I said, the beautiful ones are always nuts… gotta be ready for anything.
“What’s it to you?”
She smiles. One of those rare, sweet smiles that I only see on television. I can’t figure her age by just looking, but she couldn’t have been a day older than I was.
“You’d be surprised. I know a lot about you, Squall Leonhart.”
That was her deal then. I was hoping I didn’t have to give her a classification.
“So what? You’re some stalker slash hooker?”
The smile instantly vanishes and she narrows those big brown eyes at me. I always talk this way to strangers, so why did I feel a tinge of guilt for doing it to her?
“I guess the rumors were true; you’re an arrogant bastard.”
I shrug and smirk at her. She was beautiful, sure… but she was already starting to get on my nerves.
“Yeah, whatever. You know I’m Mayor Loire’s son, you know my name, and you know I’m a bastard. Congratulations. I don’t give autographs.”
She smirks right back at me and takes a step closer. It’s a well-known fact in my books that women don’t appreciate sarcasm.
“Oh, am I annoying Mr. Angry-Tough-Cop? Are you going to push me back, break my arm, and then lock me away after you complain to ‘Daddy’ that I sassed you on the street?”
That did it. I take a step toward her and make sure to keep my arms at my sides; I didn’t hit girls and I’d be damned if I’d let this dame force it out of me.
“Go home, little girl. Don’t talk to strangers.”
“Did I hit a nerve?” A look of satisfaction flashes in those penetrating eyes and I know she wants to keep challenging me: “You live in your father’s shadow. People aren’t scared of you; they’re scared of your father. They don’t respect you; they respect your father. The more you realize it, the angrier you get.”
“Thanks for the anthem.”
“Thought you could use the reminder.”
“Yeah, well you don’t know a goddamn thing about it.”
“I’m closer than you think.”
Part of me respected her guts. If she knew my reputation as well as I thought she did than she knew what I was capable of. But I was getting impatient.
“Let’s hear it already. What do you want?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“I just wanted to meet you. You are famous in this city, you know… even if it’s for all the wrong reasons.”
Oh ouch…like there are sappy feelings inside of me for her to hurt. I shrug again. I didn’t feel like starting another fight with her.
“You’re new here, then?”
“Something like that.”
“Then word of advice: don’t go crossing the street whenever the fuck you want.”
She gives me a weird look. Maybe she didn’t know I was the one behind the wheel. I’m not up for more conversation so I don’t give her a chance to respond.
“Never mind. Look, I don’t have time for this. Good luck tracking down other ‘celebrities’ in this shit hole.”
I throw my cigarette at her feet and brush past her… that faint sweet smell hits me like a grenade but I shake it off quickly. What is my problem…?
I can hear her heel scrape the cold cement and I know she’s watching me leave.
Squall Leonhart…she thought in annoyance. Didn’t think he’d be such a jerk…I do NOT look like a hooker!
Still, she couldn’t help the fact that she had found him to be rather attractive. His brown, somewhat unruly hair, kept his deep blue eyes caged in their shadows. Those eyes were a fierce addition to his already sharp and icy demeanor. So deep, yet… so mysteriously vacant. There was a point where she had almost lost herself in them.
“Get a grip…” she scolded in a huff. You’re better than that.
Rinoa continued to walk hastily down the street, acquiring several hollers and whistles along the way. She ignored them as usual and stared straight ahead. Hugging her white trench coat tighter around her body, she gazed upwards to see the snow start to fall once again. She stopped suddenly and continued to watch. Snow… something so simple, yet so wonderfully beautiful at the same time.
She sighed purposely, letting her breathe fill the air around her in a thin white mist.
It was then, when she finally tore her gaze from the sky, that she realized where she stood. To the left of her stood the unlit entryway to the ‘RED’ back alley. It was rumored to be the place where random women were dragged and raped, and where men were robbed and beaten to death.
Without thinking, she took a step toward the darkness.
She probably would have taken another if not for the forceful hand that clamped itself over her mouth. Then, before she could even consider screaming, an arm surrounded her waist so quickly and forcefully, the wind was practically knocked out of her.
The figure was strong and far from being gentle. At first she feared it was a rapist, but noticed that whoever it was seemed to be dragging her away from the dark alley. Her attacker pushed her to the doorway of a closed corner store and held her up against it.
“What did you think you were doing?”
In the midst of being slammed up against concrete, Rinoa winced from the sudden shock and had kept her eyes shut as a reflex. But at the sound of that stern, familiar voice, she immediately opened them.
“Squall…?” she managed to gasp.
He stood inches from her face with his hands gripping tightly onto her shoulders.
“You really aren’t from around here.” Squall confirmed with a tinge of disgust. “RED’s a death wish for someone like you.”
Someone like me? Rinoa thought angrily. She brought her arms up to Squall’s chest and pushed him off quickly.
“Get off me!” she hissed. Secretly, she scolded herself for absently realizing how impressively hard his chest was when she touched it.
“Fine.” he growled as he raised his arms up in mock defeat. “Just saving your neck.”
Rinoa glared at him angrily as she smoothed out the collar of her coat. She was about to declare the fact that she didn’t need ‘saving’ when a thought dawned on her: “What are you doing here? Weren’t you headed in the opposite direction?”
Something in his cold, cerulean eyes seemed to flinch at her question and his expression, even if for a brief fraction of a second, actually reflected a shy hint of embarrassment.
The hint was instantly shattered when a scowl quickly crossed his face. “None of your business.” he declared nonchalantly. “I was taking a detour.”
She smirked at his excuse but let her eyes soften. “My name’s Rinoa, by the way.” She said as she extended her hand politely to him.
He seemed to resent the gesture as he eyed her hand disdainfully. Ignoring the introduction, he placed both his hands in his pockets and stared almost tiredly into her eyes.
“So am I taking you home, or what?”
A look of surprise crossed her features as she let her arm drop down to her side. “Excuse me?”
“You obviously don’t know where the hell you’re going. If I’m not with you, you’ll probably end up raped, beaten and dead by morning.”
Curiously, she raised an eyebrow at him. “Why do you care? You’re not a ‘good’ cop.”
“I’m a cop; that’s enough. And the idea of cleaning up your corpse tomorrow doesn’t thrill me—I’ve got better things to do.”
Fury flashed through her eyes as she pushed past him. “Thanks, but no thanks. I can take care of myself.”
She had only taken a couple steps before Squall shotan arm out quickly and grabbed her forearm. She nearly stumbled from the force of his grip as he pulled her back.
“Ow! What are you doing?”
“Guess we’ll have to do this another way.” Squall muttered. He made a gesture with his free arm and whistled.
Seconds later, a bright light flooded over them and a yellow cab was soon parked at their side.
Squall, still gripping Rinoa’s arm tightly, flung the backseat open and practically threw her inside. Before she could protest, he promptly slammed the door shut and walked over to the driver’s side.
“Take the lady home,” he instructed before throwing a large wad of cash into the driver’s lap.
Rinoa could only scowl at him in defeat as she shook her head and told the driver where she wanted to go. The cab sped off and Squall could see her turning around in the back to watch him as he disappeared from view. He could’ve sworn that the smallest hint of a smile was evident upon her features.
Oddly enough, he was smiling himself as he placed his hands in his pockets and walked off. In repetition, as he listened to his own footsteps against the hollow, empty street, his thoughts meandered and asked him the same baffling question:
Why did I do that...?
:
:
:
:
