128 (Operation Armageddon: Book 1)

Chapter One: The Transfer | Part 1

He had just begun reading Stephen King's Cujo. A horror novel about a dog contracting rabies through a bat bite. In the book, its namesake, Cujo, ended up killing people, contradicting his former good-natured behaviour. The infection had brought him against his will, and in the end, one of the main characters ended up killing him.

It was ironic that Matthew would have to deal with another form of rabies in just a matter of time.

* * *

Matthew's alarm rang raucously. As he woke up, he wondered for a moment why he had even set his usual alarm for a Sunday, but it didn't really matter to him. Seeing that Amelia was still asleep, he decided to get some breakfast for the both of them. Knowing that the café nearby should have already been opened, he changed into some casual clothing and left his house with a small pouch.

Matthew strolled through the pavement, leaving Columbus Circle, and headed south for the café. After a short walk, Matthew arrived. He peacefully slipped his coat off and hung it on a coat hanger provided at his table. However, in the distance, he could hear some aggrieved shouting. It sounded like it was coming from Drake, the son of the café owner, Joel Smith.

Matthew had already been friends with Joel for a while since he had begun living at Columbus Circle. He was one of the café's regulars.

Soon, he saw a tired Joel limping out of the kitchen and a vexed Drake screaming at him. "You've got into some deep shit again! I've lost count at this point. Can't you be better?" Drake blared some unreasonable, "spoiled brat" phrases.

"Son, I'm already doing my best. If you want to help, why don't you please find a part-time holiday job?" Joel sighed. Joel's suggestion only made Drake more provoked. Matthew could see his lips shaking in pure anger.

"You old hag. Just die already!" Drake blasted thunderously, causing Joel to go pale.

At this moment, Matthew was triggered by Drake's impulsive speech. He couldn't stand the nonsense that Drake was spouting anymore. He stepped up and slammed the table, shouting across the café. "Shut up! You don't know what it's like not to have a father."

Drake was stunned by Matthew's sudden reaction, but so were the rest of the café-goers. "What did you say?" Drake eyed Matthew, fire raging in his eyes.

"You better stop that and respect your father," Matthew scolded sternly. Drake's eyelids peeled open so much that they seemed to disappear. He walked over to Matthew slowly and intimidatingly.

"My father is a useless piece of crap that can't even provide enough!" Drake slowly ranted, intensity building up in his voice until he blew it all out. Some café-goers were frightened by the commotion, while others didn't enjoy the drama and instantaneously abandoned their food and left the café in an unsatisfied manner.

Matthew grabbed Drake on his collar menacingly. A perfect cliché. As expected, Drake was not daunted by such a "Hollywood" banality. In fact, he snickered, unable to take Matthew's words seriously.

Matthew ignored his reaction, reprimanding him, "Listen here, you brat. Learn to appreciate your father. No one lives on this earth forever. Not even your father. Not even you. You've only so much time left to take for granted these things. So, I pretty much suggest you shut your damn mouth up at this point."

Drake, still unconvinced, rolled his eyes and stomped out of the café, finally ending the drama. "Joel, are you okay?" Matthew walked over to the café owner and patted his shoulder.

Joel's lips quivered weakly, his expression fatigued. "What have I done to my son...?" he questioned himself.

"Give yourself a break. Don't bother about him. If he doesn't want to take the money you give him, then he shouldn't take anything," Matthew breathed.

Joel sat down on a barstool for a moment, seeing that there were barely any customers left. "It's not that I don't have the money for him," he shook his head.

Matthew frowned. "What do you mean?" Joel placed a hand on the countertop, shaking uncomfortably.

"He keeps wanting more. The more allowance I give him, the more he desires. To him, it's just never enough. I don't know how I modelled him into such an ungrateful child..." Joel phrased. "We always have arguments, but mostly one-sided ones. He's always throwing remarks at me, but I never do that to him. And I'm his father. If there was anyone that could reprimand one-sidedly, it should be me."

"Then, ignore him," Matthew snapped.

Joel stifled. "I can't. The reason why he's always shaming me is that I try to ignore him. He dares to slap and punch me now. Living under my roof. Leeching off my income. And that's all he ever does."

"That would be abuse. If this ever happens again, call the police. Or call me—I'm the police," Matthew stated.

Joel nodded sombrely. "There's not going to be much business for today, but I'll get back to work for now," he said as he got up and went back into the kitchen.

"Wait!" Matthew held up his hand.

Joel stopped and looked back. "You forgot that I came here to eat," Matthew shouted over, lifting Joel's spirits a little.

"Well, it's good to know I have a committed regular," he stated.

Joel then headed to the ordering station and asked, "What would you like?"

Matthew chuckled, enjoying the change of mood. "One ham and cheese sandwich and a bowl of porridge, please."