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Episode
008
“What are you standing around for? Do you not
“A college student was arrested today, for allegedly shooting the
owner of this night club.” Said the reporter, as she stood outside the
club, the daylight shower tapping lightly against her umbrella. “The
shooting took place almost a week ago, but the police say they have
finally brought their suspect to justice.”
Jericho turned the television off. Sitting back in his chair, he
leaned against his desk. With a smile, he sat back, his hands crossed in
front of his face. Elbows on his armrests, he sat in quiet contemplation,
while outside, the city bustled by.
Mint walked amongst the hallway. The walls were still far from
completed, but the layout for the innermost installation was clearer to
her, now that the basic groundwork had been completed. Standing now in the
doorway of the giant chamber, she could see how much larger the room would
be.
The ceiling had been completed last night. Now, elements would no
longer be of concern. And once the outer perimeter wall was done, the
heating and cooling would be easier to handle as well. But right now, Mint
concentrated on when the giant fortress was completed.
The marble for the floors had yet to arrive, but it wasn’t due to
for another week. The steel and titanium pillars that made the skeletal
layout of the walls stood imposingly in the last lights of the distant sun
as it disappeared behind the distant mountains.
Mint turned back away, beginning the long walk back to the front of
the giant fortress. Nearly a quarter of a mile in length, the squat,
squarish fortress was going to be an imposing sight, to the poor,
unfortunate souls who saw it’s business end. But only they would have
the delight of knowing her’s and the Miracle workers’ devilishness.
“Did you hear?” Armand asked, sitting across from Ledger and
Roland. The two knights looked up at Armand from their baskets of food,
neither having a clue what he was talking about. “A guy from my Tae Kwon
Do school got arrested this morning.” Armand said, going back to his
fries.
“So?” Ledger asked. “It’s a big city. A lot of people got
arrested.”
“It was the guy that Everett and I saw at the club.” Armand
went on, his mouth full. “The one that looked like they guy who got
shot, who shot the club owner, what’s-his-name.”
“Okay.” Roland shrugged. “You’ve been going to a dojang
with a psychopath. Congratulations. I imagine you fit right in.”
“Ha, ha.” Armand said sarcastically. “No, seriously. He got
arrested, apparently for shooting the guy.”
“Did he?” Ledger asked, finishing his soda. He sat back in the
cramped booth of the fifties-style restaurant. “Did he shoot him?”
“No.” Armand said. “I said he didn’t. I was there. I know
he didn’t.”
“Maybe you shoot tell someone.” Roland offered, wolfing down an
entire chicken finger in one bite.
“You think so?” Armand said, uncertain. “I thought as
knights, we were supposed to, you know, keep a low profile and all
that.”
“Eh.” Ledger shrugged uncaringly. “We’re not supposed to
HIDE the fact that we’re knights. It’s just that broadcasting it has a
tendency to get us into more trouble than it’s worth.”
“Not to mention, some of us.” Roland said, staring harshly at
Ledger. “Don’t look like knights.”
“Hey!” Ledger said, holding open his giant, black jacket.
“It’s black, ain’t it? The shirt’s red, ain’t it? It’s the
uniform.”
“Sure it is.” Roland said, looking away.
“At least I wear a uniform, white boy.” Ledger said, bitterly,
going back to his food.
“There he goes again with that ‘white-boy’ stuff.” Roland
said. “Honestly man. Quite the knights and go join the Black Panthers or
something. You’d be more happy, trust me.”
“They’re a bunch of gun-toting, psychopathic idiots.” Ledger
said in a low mumbled.
“And which part are you opposed to?” Roland asked, looking at
the knight that sat next to him.
“The ‘idiots’ part.” Ledger said, looking up with a huge
grin on his face.
“Good man.” Roland nodded, his smile growing also.
“Hey.”
Ruwani turned around, as Tim came up behind her. “Hey.” he said
again, as she stood up from the bland waiting room chair. “Ruwani,
right?” He asked, obviously nervous. “We met just briefly, yeah, but I
heard about Malcolm and I came right over.”
“Oh.” She said, at a loss, but vaguely recognizing the student.
“Well, I don’t know what you heard but Malcolm still hasn’t been
charged.”
“Really?” Tim said, looking up at the desk. “That’s weird.
Why would they arrest him if they’re not going to charge him?” “Why
would the arrest him if he didn’t do anything?” Ruwani asked
rhetorically, sitting back down. “Where’s
Marilyn?” Tim asked, looking around the room.
“She and Victor went to go talk to a judge that we know.”
Ruwani said, leaning forward in the chair. “They should be back in an
hour or two.”
“Wow.” Tim said, sitting down next to the girl. She looked
mildly over at him, then sat her elbows on her knees and her head on her
hands. “I . . . I can’t believe this is happening.” He observed
casually.
“The news said that he shot the owner with a .22.” Tim
shrugged. “Does he own a .22?”
“No.” Ruwani said, adamantly. “I know that for a fact.
Malcolm hates guns.”
“Hey.” Tim said, holding up his hands. “I’m not saying he
did, or does, or whatever. I’m just saying that the news and everything
says otherwise.”
“I know.” Ruwani said, shaking her head. “But that still
doesn’t mean it’s true.”
Malcolm leaned his head against the metal wall of the holding cell.
The others in there with him were keeping their distance, after the
incident with the two neo-Nazis. Left alone, Malcolm reflected on his
thoughts.
“The police said I’m registered as owning a rifle.” Malcolm
thought to himself. “How is that? No one in my family owns a gun.” He
looked around the room, at the others in the cell. Some had come and gone,
but Malcolm was still here, waiting.
“What do you think?” Asked the partner, his forehead leaning
against the mirrored glass.
“I don’t think he did it.” Said the officer, staring through
the window on the opposite side of the hallway at the holding cell. “He
just doesn’t look like it.”
“Should we let him go?” The partner said.
“Let’s wait for the tests to come back.” The officer said,
still watching Malcolm. “There’s more here than he’s letting on.
That much is clear. But I’m just not sure if HE knows everything
that’s going on or not.”
“Marilyn, I don’t know what to tell you.” Said the elderly
judge, as he sat at the tiny oak desk in the cramped room with Marilyn and
Victor. “There’s really nothing I can do. The evidence all points at
Malcolm.”
“But, Judge Morris,” Marilyn started.
“Mar,” Victor said, stopping her. He turned to the judge.
“There’s no way that it was Malcolm.”
“I’m sorry.” The judge said, with an imploring gesture from
his hands. “There’s just no way I can affect things. If you want to
add your statement, you need to go back down to the station. But,
honestly, it won’t carry much weight as you’re his friends.”
“What will carry much weight?” Marilyn asked, before Victor
could say anything.
“Honestly?” The judge asked.
“Yes.” Marilyn said, certainly.
The judge shrugged, uncertain. “You’d need to find someone
who’d be willing to testify on his behalf that doesn’t know him at
all.”
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