Birdsie
The God-Emperor of Mankind
David Corrigan
Location: Unknown Room at Unknown Location
"S-sir... I know you're upset, but... I've already repeated this ten tim--" A thug's fearful voice echo'ed over the phone. "Again," David's voice insisted assuredly. He held the phone tightly to his face, his eyes bearing much in them. In his other hand he held a pen, writing down the thug's report. Just from the expression on his mouth one could see anger rooted deep inside, hiding and waiting to explode. The thug gulped, audibly and continued talking. "Well. This... man appeared and he... He just... cut our track in half with a sword, then it turned into a shield and our fire did nothing! And then he... well, the shield, it turned into a huge frying pan and he--" David's voice interrupted him: "ENOUGH!" David squeezed the pen in his hand and it broke in half.
He threw the phone onto the desk for a second, holding onto his face with his hand. He was sweating. "First some wannabe vigilante girl with a sadistic personality disorder kills several of my men and sends me a death-message via one of them... and now there's some 'guy in a red suit,' STEALING MY SHIPMENTS!" David's fist hit the desk with great strength. It made the phone vibrate intensly and jump up, as the thug spoke again. "Uh, sir?!" The meek voice said from a distance that David could barely hear, as phones were obviously quieter than people. David picked up the cellphone and put it up to his ear once again, speaking. "In the light of this situation: Tactically, and strategically? YOU'RE USELESS! Imagine yourself working for the marine corps!? You'd bring this report to your major?... You're dead, pal. I'm being very understanding just by giving you the chance to explain yourself!" The thug's voice trembled in fear, as he tried speaking. "But-- it's not my fault! Come on, dud--" "DON'T DUDE ME!..." David yelled back, then shortly after continued, this time quieter, but still upset. "You had a very simple job: Deliver my weapons and if anyone stops you: shoot them! As simple as that! All you have to do is aim the gun at their forehead... AND PULL THE TRIGGER, YOU INCOMPETENT CRETIN! BESPAWLER! RUFFIAN! INCOMPETENT! HALF-BREED! INFIDEL! MONGREL! CRETIN!"
The thug then divulged David's insult spree: "Sir... you -uh- no disrespect, but you already used that ins--" David once again interrupted the thug, having no care for what he wanted to say. "Harper...?" The man on the other side stopped talking on David's interruption and quickly exclaimed upon his name being called. "Uh, yes?!" David's eye ticked twice before he continued speaking. "Give the phone to anyone near you." After a few seconds and sounds of the phone being carried and changing hands, a man on the other side spoke; his voice was different. "Yeah?" David smiled hearing the voice and responded without further delay. "Kill him."
*BANG* a loud gunshot could be heard over the phone. David said. "Find the robber and KILL HIM. Now excuse me, I've got a few forged documents to get." David hung up and shoved the phone into his pocket aggressively. The whole room was dark, with one window in front of David, covered with a curtain that only let a few mere rays of pale light go through. David turned around to face the door of the room and prepared to leave. The door was peeking outwards, and one could see stairs that led to what would probably be the first floor.
An old-aged lieutentant of his stopped him on the way out of the room and said. "Sir, it's just one man... What can one man do?" David stopped abruptly at the man's words and kept quiet. David's head slowly turned until the two were making direct eye contact. It felt both invasive and vulnerable to maintain eye contact with this many emotions in the air. David then slowly toddled his hand into his suit and dragged out his colt 1991 pistol. David's lips coldly said the next words. "This." David answered the lieutentant, pushing him away with his left hand and aiming the gun with the right. The lieutentant was about to beg for mercy, but David mercillesly put the bullet in between the man's eyes. He walked up to his corpse and started thinking. 'You, sir... probably had a family... maybe kids. You might have been a war veteran for all I know, but... you still decided to enter this life like me, and so - you've agreed to die if you acted too stupid. Well, you just did.' David justified his actions to himself, keeping his moral compass numb to continue his work. David decided to show a last drop of respect and laid his fingers on the man's forehead, dragging them across his eyelids to close them. Afterwards, he took out a white tissue and scraped the man's forehead, making sure he left no fingerprints. Little did David know that it was not one man.
David sat down on one of the chairs, disgusted by the sight of the body but ignoring it to further his thoughts. A man's yell came from downstairs. "I heard a shot! Everything a-okay up there?!" David's attention turned towards the door and screamed back. "YES!" With little enthusiasm. David sat back on the chair, it was wooden, and uncomfortable. "How much can you forge one friggin' thing? I could be having a movie marathon right now..."
'How did things end up like this? Why am I here?' David asked himself, then realized. 'Wow, I'm such a philosopher. Is this what everyone is thinking nowadays? Is this... is this just an overused cliche? Is this what the reptilians in the government want me to think? Well. I guess I could pretend I'm in a movie: My name is David Corrigan, and the man I just killed is about twenty years older than me. Why was he in a gang like this? The fuck if I care, I'm not biased against old people. My life was shitty from the start, but I guess I only made things worse for myself.' David looked to the side, seeing a pack of cigarettes. He stared at them lustingly for a few seconds, then shook his head and looked away deciding he wouldn't be addicted. Not today. 'I've become a stone-cold killer, baby. And at the same time: I'm a huge pussy. Hiding behind taxes, lawyers and corporate drones that do all my job for me. Of course, that's not what society calls them. They call them: muggings, gangsters... black market dealers. I guess since I'm a serious businessman that makes me what? The embodiment of evil? Maybe, since I've got this.' David took out the Mephistopheles card and stared at it. 'Now with the cursed Olympus Group, that blonde russian psychopath-slash-social justice warrior that wants my head on a pike, and the frying pan-wielding man in a red suit... I guess I really am the screw up. I had it all in my hands... and I let a bunch of... I don't even have words for them... I let them take it all away. I am a cheeky bastard in the day, making deals with whomever I come across and abusing power for my own ends, but in the ned? I really am the screw up, am I not, dad?'
FLASHBACK TIME!
Location: NYSDOC Queensboro Correctional Facility, Visitation Area.
Time: Two years ago, Visit hours. Long before David considered being a criminal.
David walked into a room, holding a coat in his hands as it was snowing outside. His hands were nearly numb from the cold, but in his hands he held a packed gift. A guard walked in after David and said. "Welp. You've got ten minutes, Mr. Corrigan. Then you've gotta leave. Got that?" David turned around, smiling in a suave, charismatic way. His face held no guilt on it, and one couldn't guess that it was the same criminal that David was in the future even if they had supernatural aid. He was still charismatic, but not in the same way... David was charismatic in the good way. "Smooth like ice-cream, boss!" pointing his finger at the guard and winking with one eye. The older man smiled and left the room, chuckling. David walked up to the glass that separated him and an old man in an orange uniform. The man had a white beard, mustache and hair, along with blue eyes and a generally unhappy expression. David then said. "Hi, Dad. Sorry I'm late!" David laughed. "It was a craaaazy day at the parlor, y'know?" Chuckling. The older man didn't respond, he only leaned in and broodingly stared David down, or rather - the thing David was holding. "Uh, um, yeah! I brough'tcha a gift. Hope you like it. Made it myself..." David dropped the box into the drop-off area, and the older man took it in his hands and unwrapped it. In it, he only found a box of strawberry ice cream and a plastic spoon to eat it. David then said. "I didn't know what flavour you liked, so I took the one--" The older man, who was obviously David's father threw the box aside and angrily asked. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
David's face trembled in surprise and he jumped backwards. "Geez. If you aren't a strawberry fan you don't have to--" The older man then yelled. "SHUT UP. I was expecting something to break me out! Some good news! That I'd be getting out of here! I've been stealing from my boss, David. I stole thousands of dollars worth of property and sold it... SO YOU COULD GO TO EUROPE AND HAVE A FANCY LIFE! WHAT DO I GET? PRISON! AND A WORTHLESS SON!" David's eyes got sadder, as he spoke. "But... I told you. I can't break you out. It's--" David's father stopped him. "Against the law! Are you hearing yourself?! The only reason you are here... wearing a business suit... having yer' fancy ice cream parlor? It's because I've stolen, against the law TO GIVE IT TO YOU!"
The old man got up and said. "You're just another screw up, like your whore sisters." Preparing to leave. David wanted to order his father not to talk this way about them, but didn't have the courage, so the white-haired man simply vacated the room without another word.
'Ever since then? I've been considering a criminal career. Why? Well. He actually... got through to me. It seemed so... right, so good at the time. I mean, it's not like he was wrong! Right? Tch, who am I even asking? 'Ese are my thoughts...' David laughed at himself, then stood up smiling. 'I might be actually going insane. I'm so lonely that I'm talking to myself inside my head... I'm keeping it together the way that a person under a bus keeps it together. I have anger issues too. I'll need a therapist. Anyway, as for my story: Ever since my turn to the dark side, I've been considering breaking the old man out, but do I really have the balls? I don't think so. Ever since that visit I've never even seen him. It's not like he gives a shit about me anyway. I'm a simple screw up. A businessman wannabe. The reason I became a criminal was because my ice cream sucked more balls than--'
"It's done!" David heard a yell coming from downstairs. "On my way!" He yelled back, walking to take his forged document and take a good look. He stole the original from the dead police inspector, all it took was a few slight adjustments and it could be made real... Inspector Corrigan on the case, or rather... in the case and about to realize his plans.
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