Chapter Two

STERLING

I follow Avel, towering over him as he moves through the streets. I stare at him; his short stature and thin frame made him almost look pathetic as the wind and rain beat against him. If it were anyone else, I might feel bad, even sympathetic for the poor creature.

Of course, Avel is not like anyone else. Feeling bad for Avel isn't just something worth laughing at, it's something that could get you killed.

As an undercover cop, I have had many 'employers', most of them I've killed myself. Despite that, I've never met someone quite like Avel before. I would say that he is a disturbed individual, but that doesn't seem right. Yes, he is disturbed, but there's something more to him than that. Something that keeps me following him like his guard dog even though he aims his gun at me, takes his rage out on me. He wants to kill me. Sometimes I want to kill him too. I want to bury a bullet in his head.

But I can't. Not yet. 

He fascinates me. A rodent as small as him, with the power of a king.

We walk to his apartment, a true representation of his mental anguish. Avel's fortune is in the millions, and yet, he lives in an apartment building infested with rodents and roaches. I often feel the need to shower every time I lay eyes on the place, let alone actually go into it.

We walk into his apartment, and he immediately heads to the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of wine. I glance around, the darkness of the place with a lack of light or technology only makes it more unnerving. I can see them, the roaches, moving quickly in the shadows, almost as if moving the shadows themselves.

The rodents were another thing, holes littered the walls and furniture from where they had chewed through. I should be disgusted; I should be completely repulsed.

I tell myself I am numb to it now, that is how I deal with it, but I think there is something more to it. I don't feel like it's just because I'm used to it. I feel like it is necessity. Avel's filthy ways of living were a guarantee. A reminder as to who I am dealing with. Avel is not just one of the many criminals I have killed or put behind bars before. He is unique in his own suffering.

That makes him so much more dangerous.

I glance at Avel, as he takes a drink of the dark wine, a cockroach crawling across the glass as he does so.

"What is your plan, then?" I ask, "Bhattacharya is taunting you, what do you plan to do?"

Avel doesn't bother looking at me as he spits out a roach that was in the wine. I grimace. "I don't care what he does." His tone was stern but not without a hint of boredom.

I lean against the wall, staring at him. "And when he crosses the line?"

"Bhattacharya is a thorn in my flesh, but he's not stupid." Avel says, taking another drink. "He would not cross such a line without warning first."

"And was today not a warning?"

He glares at me. "I'll handle whatever comes, so drop it, dog."

I blink at him, the filthy apartment falling silent. I take a moment, before walking over to a few candles, and lighten them with my lighter. The light makes the roaches scatter violently as they run to the nearest shadow. I'm always surprised by just how many pests live in this tiny apartment. No amount of poison will rid this place of them, the building needs to be destroyed.

Avel seems to almost relish in the filth.

I watch my boss slowly walk over to the couch, and sit on it, I place the lit candle on a nearby table, Avel's body faint in the candlelight as the shadows of the room try to eat him but can't quite get a grasp. I watch each individual cockroach, as it walks over his body like he's not a living thing.

The way he blends into the filth, into the habitat of rodents and inevitable disease, is alarming. It is unlike anything I've ever seen before. Anything that anyone even slightly sane would be repulsed by.

Avel has issues. Issues I don't think I can even begin to understand.

I am so drawn to his mind.

I feel a roach on my shirt and flick it off. "So, then, is that all?"

"For tonight."

I nod. "I'm not sleeping here."

"Why not? Afraid of me?" Despite the stoic expression on his face, I can see it, the very faint glimmer of mockery in his gaze.

I stare at him. "You know I'm not."

"Yes." He says, taking another drink. "I know you're a liar."

You don't know the half of it. "Not about this."

"Then leave."

I say nothing, walking to the door. I don't glance back at him, I don't dare show hesitation in front of Avel, but I hear it. The click of his gun. I can feel it aimed at my back, but I show no concern, no hint that I even know. I walk out the door.

As soon as I leave the building, I'm moving quickly through the dark, lightless streets. The rain still pouring as I move as fast. The dark streets of Boston are dangerous at night. Anyone could be lurking in the shadows, it's almost eerie.

I glance around, making sure I'm not being followed, before I move to the side of an empty home, and approach the cellar attached to it. I open the door to the cellar, and slip in.

Inside, was a multitude of devices. A cellphone, a laptop, I use to strictly record all information I collect, and most importantly, a radio. If anyone in Boston knew I had smuggled these devices in, not only would they take them, but I'd also be tortured for it.

I sit down, turning on the phone, the wifi barely catching bars due to the lack of technology in the city, I scroll through the different texts I have received from my comrades back at the precinct. I respond to them, letting them know I'm still alright, things are still going well. I tell them about Bhattacharya.

I don't tell them anything about Avel. They know that I'm working for him, but that's it.

For now, anything he does is kept between me and him.

I sit on the floor, several blankets formed into a pathetic bed. I lay down, flicking on the radio, I listen to 90's radio, only having the sound on just enough to where I can hear. I stare at the ceiling of the cold cellar and imagine bugs crawling all over me.

Oddly enough, the bugs only end up feeling like Avel's hands.