Chapter 43: Why don't we show each other who we really are?

The day after, Jalen headed down to the location where his contact from a used car website specified. He planned on purchasing a car. Since he only had about thirty grand—as ten grand went to Ella and the rest was used to rent his apartment—used cars were his only option. The money he repossessed from Aldo would go to the Black Book, along with some new terms to be hashed out if he were to remain with them. The car would serve as his transport when he didn't want to be flying around as Erebus, allowing him to experience the world at a slower pace. Variety was the spice of life, after all. After the time spent in his universe, the mundane seemed interesting presently.

He met the contact in a parking lot beside a gas station. The man, scraggly-haired, wore rumpled clothes, spotting patches of dirt. His impression of the car plummeted without even checking the interior just from the owner's appearance. At least, the car parked behind the owner matched the photos online. It was an Alterman Coren made by Alterman Industries, the largest company in New Jersey by far, which dabbled in various avenues. This particular sedan was the 2014 model, gas-powered, rear-wheel drive, six-speed manual, and devoid of all the latest bells and whistles.

"Can I take a look?" he asked.

"Sure, man," the man stammered.

He searched the car for signs of rust, wear and tear, and deformities. He even checked the fluids systems, ran the engine, and inspected the undercarriage. When all was said and done, the car had accumulated an impressive mileage of almost 100,000 miles. However, everything looked good, worn but strong. So when he rounded the corner to pay the man his money, the scrap of a boot on the tarmac alerted him. He docked out of the way.

A bat wheezed past where his head had been.

"Shit! Grab him, Matt."

The owner of the car tackled him to the ground. They wrestled, pushing and grappling while the man with a bat waited for a good opportunity. Jalen wrapped his legs around the man's waist and toppled him over. Then, he docked out of another bat swing again and jumped to his feet.

The man with the bat helped his assailant, Matt, up.

"How did you fucking miss?" Matt exclaimed.

"Shit! Did you fucking see that? He dodged it without looking."

"Did you ever plan on selling your car?" Jalen asked, his heart burning with a rage he struggled to contain.

Matt wiped the sweat off his forehead. "Eventually, yeah. Not to you, though." Then, he pulled out a gun. "Give me all your money, and this goes by smoothly."

"I don't have cash on me."

"Bullshit," Matt said. "You said you were gonna pay in cash. Your time's ticking."

"And if I do, then what? What's the plan after you take my money? I've seen your faces. I know your plate number. How do you plan on dealing with the cops?"

Both men exchanged doomed looks.

"I fucking served his head on a platter for you!" Matt shouted. "How could you miss?"

"I told you why, Dimwit. You saw it!"

"Screw this." Matt pointed his gun at him again. "We have to kill him."

The other man stood in Matt's face. "We just wanted money for a few hits. That's all. I'm not killing someone over drugs, bro."

Matt pushed the man away. "Well, then I will. I always have to get my hands dirty for the both of us."

As Matt raised his gun, a gunshot rang. The other man screamed and held his thigh, blood soaking his hands.

An older man stepped out of the gas station store with a rifle set on his shoulder. "Now, unless you plan on becoming target practice, I suggest you leave."

Matt froze for a few moments, then whipped his gun around. Another well-placed shot to Matt's thigh that dispersed blood on the bullet's exit took all the fight out of him. Matt grimaced, his eyes gripped with fear.

"Go." the old man waved them off with his gun.

As they scrambled, Jalen muttered just for their ears. "Be expecting me soon."

Both men limped to the car, backed out of the lot, and with screeching tires, zoomed down the road.

"Don't worry. I called the cops," the old man said when he saw Jalen's eyes following the fleeing car.

"Thanks for the help," he said.

"No biggie. Come inside, pal, while we wait for the cops. Call me Joe."

He followed Joe into the store, past the counter, and into the backroom where he sat down. As he sipped from a cup of water Joe handed him, his mind raced. At the forefront, he questioned why he was taking all this disrespect. Like a main sequence star at the end of its life, he was teetering at the breaking point. He did not need to play like the mortals. To be shackled by their sense of morality. So why did he live the way he did? Deep in his heart, an image of his mother surfaced, accompanied by Aunt Darcy, Jessica, Frank, and Ella. It seemed that they were the anchors that grounded him to this reality. He locked away those thoughts for now.

Joe brought some gauze and antiseptic to deal with the minor injuries he gained during the shuffle.

"Weird," the store owner said, examining his arms. "I could have sworn you had some bruising."

A bell rang, signifying that someone had entered the store, so Joe left to attend to them. He leaned back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the nearby table, his mind much calmer now.

Joe returned later with two police officers. They were having a conversation.

"What has this city come to?" Joe said. "Criminals sprouting everywhere like over-bred rats. Imagine the gall to rob someone in broad daylight within earshot of my store."

"I hear you," the officer said. "We are doing our best."

"Well, your best ain't cutting it."

They passed the doorway into the room.

"This the one?" the lead officer asked, pointing at Jalen.

"Yes," Joe replied.

Then the officer, round and pot-bellied, squatted before him. "Hi, I'm Sergeant MacKenzie. You did great staying calm, son. We're going to make sure you're safe. Now please come with me."

MacKenzie led him out to the sidewalk, near the parked police cars by the street. Many officers present on the scene sat in their cars instead of securing the crime scene. Even Jalen knew that their actions disregarded the correct procedure. The second officer, tailing him and MacKenzie, walked ahead, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it.

"So tell me what happened, son," MacKenzie said.

He had to pull his eyes away from the inappropriate officers before detailing what had transpired, down to the plate number of their car and their listing on Classifieds Hermosville. However, MacKenzie's focus lay more on his fellow officers, who were busy joking and laughing, than on his recollection of the incident. The sergeant's blatant disinterest got so bad, he just elected to keep quiet.

MacKenzie pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and savored the tobacco. Then the sergeant gave the crime scene, left vacant, a stink eye. "Get straight with me, kid. You weren't dealing, were you? Pushing product. Selling food."

"What?"

"Drug dealing," MacKenzie clarified.

"I know what the fuck you were saying." He massaged his temple while regulating his simmering temper. "Look, it seems neither of us wants to be here. Why don't we go our separate ways?"

MacKenzie smiled, his yellow, crooked teeth displayed. "On second thought, I have a bad feeling about you." The sergeant reached for his arm, but instead, MacKenzie wound up planted on the sidewalk on his arse. A steaming rage reddened his face. "Get down on the ground, boy. You're under arrest, ya hear me? On the ground now!"

"Are you fucking serious?"

MacKenzie's partner reached for his gun. The officers in the cars stepped out and pulled their guns. One thing he noticed was that they all had predatory gazes like they were tigers out hunting deer.

"Get down on the ground, boy. You assaulted a goddamn officer."

"So this is how it's gonna be?" He spread his arms wide, inviting them in. "This is how you treat a victim of a crime?"

MacKenzie scowled. "You ain't no goddamn victim, boy. Not after you assaulted an officer. You get what's coming."

Fueled by pure rage, a fit of anger rivaling how he felt when Jigoku Kumo stole his power and killed an entire sisterhood, his life force gates burst open. It was only his will that prevented him from transforming, his body tearing apart from the cosmic energy.

"I said get down on the ground, boy. Don't make me repeat myself."

Again, he closed his eyes to calm his rage. "Do you have any idea where I was a few days ago? Creating a cosmos." He bore his arms out as if carrying something heavy. "Shaping more planets than there are sands on Earth from pure fucking energy. I witnessed the rich culture of my creation. Talked to them. Lived amongst them. Delivered divine justice. All to get robbed by fucking bums a few days after coming back? All because I choose to live amongst you like a mortal?"

One officer, black with a bald head, lowered his gun, his mouth open wide in pure bafflement. "This dude is off his rocker. I think he needs some time at the mental institute."

MacKenzie chuckled. "No problem with me. That is, after we're through teaching him a lesson. Jackson, grab him."

The black officer holstered his gun and reached for him. In response, his arm snapped, two fingers breaking from the immense force Jalen applied. Still, it was the officer who came out worse for wear, with a shattered jaw as he crashed to the ground. A look of shock spread across their faces.

"Shit! He's a superhuman," one said.

They all lowered their guns, save MacKenzie, who stepped up to him.

"I'll bust that braindead head of yours, boy."

"Do it!" He grabbed the barrel of the firearm and placed it on his forehead, his next words spoken softly. "I'm not a fucking superhuman. So do it. Then you won't have to worry about me anymore, or anyone for that matter."

With visible traces of rage on the sergeant's face, clear from their locked gazes, MacKenzie still elected to pull the gun away. But he wrapped his arms around the barrel, holding it still.

"What's the matter now?" he said. "Why don't we stop pretending and show each other who we really are? You, the violent bully parading around in a badge. And I… Well, I'm fucking tired of hiding who I am. Pull the trigger and reveal it all for everyone to see." MacKenzie looked terrified now. "This is your best chance, sergeant. No matter what happens today, I will make your life fucking miserable. So much so that you will end your wasted existence by yourself. So your days are numbered, either way. Take your fucking shot."

When he released the gun, MacKenzie backed away with trembling feet.

Jalen shook his head in disappointment. "Fucking useless cowards. All of you. Get out of my sight."

That lit a fire under MacKenzie, who raised his gun with determination. He, in turn, grinned, welcoming the baptism of fire that would wash away this farce of an existence.