It takes time to build a mighty structure, but within moments, it can collapse. This applied to Blakely as he sat, in what he felt was a very long time.
He did not sit in the way he used to. Days ago, he would sit and meditate. Find peace within himself. Search through himself and looked for what flowed inside him. That is what he was taught on how to harness his gift. How to harness his ability for magic.
Now, he sat. He did not meditate; he quietly, pensively, thought on what happened hours ago. Anger, rage, fueled by the intense sadness he felt. Blakely could not find peace. He could no longer search within and harness.
It was a lost concept to him now. With that, he created a plan; a plan that would bring him peace. Release from his anger and guilt. Release from this jail cell.
ᵠ
The woman, a female psychiatrist, had asked him a simple question. “What do you think about mockingbirds?”
“They sing their hearts out, it’s lovely.” Blakely responded. He enjoyed birds. Being out in the wilderness, being taught by his mentor, gave him a love for nature. Mainly birds. They were always around, jovial and singing happily.
After his…incident with his former mentor, his perspective had changed. Blakely had made sure to tell the woman that. Yet, his view on birds and life had stayed the same.
“How do you feel when a bird dies?”
“A growing sadness…as is with any creature.” A feeling, something akin to foreshadowing within literature, grew in his stomach. He knew where this was going. It was such an innocent way to start a conversation, and it spiraled into darkness.
“So, when you killed those people, did you feel sadness?”
Yin and Yang. Where there is good, there is bad; it explained all of mankind in seven words. It explained him. When he had justified his reasons for killing who had killed, a person could think it was justice, with him being a vigilante. Then they hear how he felt.
“I felt happy.” Blakely said. He was happy they were off the face of the planet. That they could not continue the sins they committed. Just as his master had taught him, fight for justice no matter the cost. “They had murdered, raped, stole, did things that not even I could do. So…I killed them. Now, they can never do all their vile acts that they felt no remorse to.”
“Is that your own twisted sense of justice?” Blakely did not respond for a moment. Words wanted to fire from his mouth, tell her the atrocities he had seen and heard of. It’s not time.
“The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” She looked at him. He could tell what she was thinking. His justice was twisted, not the way it should have been. Were people this easy to read? Did she leave herself open? Or was he wrong, truly twisted from what his mentor had taught him?
“Did you know that your good intentions harmed others?”
“Everything harms someone one way or another. Their deaths harmed one, but helped a hundred.” In reality, he had not known that people would care. Had they had siblings? Maybe parents who had passed? But, he had said what he said without hesitation.
“Why kill them?” Blakely did not miss a beat in his answer.
“Because a jail cell shows too much mercy. Where they have sullied their reputation outside in society, within the jail, people who are just as criminal as them feel respect. Respect for killing! Rape! Thievery! Jail is too merciful. Death was the only option.”
“From what you said… that means you sully your own reputation with the murders you committed.”
“Of course.” It would all culminate into his end. His “downward spiral into insanity”, people would say, would get him killed in jail. All part of the plan.
ᵠ
He sat on his knees, tears welling in his eyes. How had it come to this? To watch his mentor, his partner, his longtime friend, die before him. He stared, not believing that a man with such strength and conviction go into the eternal sleep. “One day…your life is going to flash before your eyes…I hope you enjoy watching it…just like I did,”
And those were his final words. His eyes closed, and he was gone.
Blakely sat in the pale meadow, staring at the pale corpse that lay in front of him. It seemed as if time had never passed since the man had fallen asleep. The light in the world dimmed, and all he could see and remember was what lead up to such an… end.
The tears spilt. It spilt into a hot, nasty rage. He screamed into the nothing that surrounded him; fueled nothing but the rage and anger. Anger towards his mentor, for having to lie to him! Anger at himself for not realizing it! His screamed fueled his insides. Fueled it till he felt as if the world should burn, do nothing but burn.
And that’s what he did; he burned the meadow, the pale meadow, until there was nothing left to burn. Everything except the body his friend.
That memory…it was suppressed. Ignored. Yet it came about like a hurricane to a small town- unexpectedly and uninvited. Why had it reemerged now? What reason did his mind have to stop ignoring what he did not want to remember?
His mentor’s words echoed in his mind. “One day…your life is going to flash before your eyes…I hope you enjoy watching it…just like I did,”
He was not going to enjoy it. His last days were spent in jail, sitting and bidding his time until he could act. Until he could escape, or die trying.
Then he heard an irritating noise. A baton clanging against the metal pole of the cell. Blakely found it not amusing unlike guard in front of him. A lopsided grin formed on the man’s face. “Your trial has been moved up to next month. The interrogator will also be seeing you next week.” With that, the guard left.
Unhappy, angered, and guilt-ridden, his life would flash before his eyes and Blakely would squeeze them shut. But now, he could see it all straight. His day of escape had drawn closer than ever, and fit his plans all the better. “Excuse me!” He shouted.
The guard came back with a look of impatience. “I’d like to make a call.”
ᵠ
The psychiatrist was truly satisfied. He had gone from the insane man who had killed people to a rather normal human being. The only part was that, within the past week, he had a sudden breakthrough. Guilt and unbridled anger had shown up in him.
He yelled and then sulked for a good two hours. Depression, not even a day later, had taken in. Finally, after all this time, his mind had reset. In seven months, he had completely changed, and then, in a week, reverted back to his former self.
Blakely, unbeknownst to her, had faked and acted so finely. It was quite the artistic performance he had put on for the past week.
Of course, there was the one piece that he was missing! He had to fake “snapping”.
They would realize that they were wasting time and resources, sheltering a man who would have a breakthrough, reset, snap, and go through the process again. His interrogation would be moved up along with his trial.
The trial was of no importance. The interrogation, on the other hand, was to be much more beneficial.
ᵠ
For someone to be angered uncontrollably, a few keywords added in at the right spot were always needed. It was manipulation used in its easiest and simplest form.
Another jailed man had attacked him without hesitation. Apparently they hadn’t heard about his reputation! Blakely couldn’t help but laugh at the irony.
A right hook, he had blocked it quite easily with his left. He let his fist fly, smacking into the exposed man’s neck. The man staggered back, trying to understand what happened, it was difficult to breathe.
Blakely took off his inmate jacket and waited. The inmate staggered and finally looked at him, anger still clear on his face. All Blakely could do was smile.
He threw the jacket at the man, blinding him. Distraction. Expectantly, the man had sent a wild left hook. He blocked it again, bashing his fist into the solar plexus. More disrupted breathing, cracked ribs. A haymaker from the right towards his head, he blocked once more. His arms high up, his fists smacked into the man’s ears and temple. Dazed.
The man stumbled back again, but Blakely gave him no time to recover. The man sent another wild fist and he ducked. His back was shown to Blakely. He spun and he kicked; his hip turning and bashing into the man’s ribcage. Several cracked ribs.
He stumbled back again and Blakely grabbed his head. Broken jaw. His jaw collided with Blakely’s knee not a moment sooner. Finally, Blakely finished it, the man stumbling backwards from the pain in his jaw; Blakely sent a heel kick into his ribs.
The man fell to the floor without a sound. And all Blakely could do was laugh, beg for more. “You’re done? All bark but no bite? Who’s next?! Please, come, more! I want to make you suffer for all that you did! Maybe kill one or two! C’mon! More!” He continued yelling.
Blakely snapped. They all saw it.
ᵠ
“Four cracked ribs, three broken. Broken jaw, ruptured eardrum. Good thing you didn’t kill the man.”
“Nowhere to hide the body, sorry.” The interrogator in front of Blakely was a man who had a temper. The way his eyes were fixed on just glaring at him, his attitude, it spoke volumes. Kirai, meaning hate, was his name. It was fitting to say the least.
“But, you didn’t hide the other bodies of people you killed too well.”
“Well people should know that a vile person such as them was killed. Especially you.” Anger burned in his eyes, his arms at the corner of the table. He stared at Blakely before rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“You know what? I’m gonna get straight to the point! Where are they?” Kirai’s eyes were nervous and angry. Was he wondering where a certain politician and his wife had disappeared to?
“Who?”
“Do not! Play. Dumb. With me! You know who I’m takin’ about!” Hands slammed on the table, most likely to scare him so he would speak. It would not work.
“Pretend I am dumb.” Blakely had to keep the uncooperative, messing with a person’s mind persona. Just for now. Until he could get the three men staring through the wall with a transparency spell to leave.
Kirai rubbed the bridge of his nose again. Frustration. “The county attorney and his wife.” It was exactly who they wanted. Without a head prosecutor, they wouldn’t be able to put anybody on trial in this city until someone new was put up. It pushed his trial back, but in reality, it was just for show.
“I…don’t remember what he looks like. I mean, I’ve been in jail for the past seven months. How could I have made him disappear?”
“When you made your call the day you were told about the trial push up, you must o-“ He stopped suddenly. His eyes looked towards the empty wall on Blakely’s right. He pushed a folder on the edge of the table towards him.
“What am I looking at here?” Blakely said, a sly grin on his face.
“Third picture.” Brown hair, brown eyes, broad shoulders; height of 5’9, weight of 164 pounds. This politician was the utmost average man that had ever made it into office. His name was Donovan Harth, a name that caught attention for an average person.
“I see. I can’t seem to remember who he is exactly. Never saw his face before.” Kirai wanted to give a mirthless laugh. It was infuriating at how dumb this criminal could play! How he could get under the skin of a person with a few sly words!
“Last time he was seen, he and his wife had checked into a hotel for a…romantic evenin’. For the next week, they had not been seen, especially when you made your phone call.” A smile crept onto Blakely’s face. He leaned forward, staring at Kirai in front of him.
“You are…most definitely right!” He gave a harsh, almost forceful, laugh. “Gunpowder factory, that’s where you’ll find his wife. Donovan, well! He’s in a building somewhat close to the orphanage.” His hand covered the side of his mouth, hiding from the wall of those watching. It was like he was telling a secret. “I’d suggest evacuating the orphanage, while you’re at it.”
Kirai rushed out of the room none too soon. Blakely, though, sat and smiled to himself.
ᵠ
Kirai came into the room angry, and Blakely knew why. The others, along with other officers, left to find Donovan and his wife. Of course, Kirai was not allowed to go because he was to most likely “guard Blakely and make sure he doesn’t get out.”
His hate for the insane man was the only problem in that situation. They sat in silence, waiting for absolutely nothing. As if there was no race against time and a death of a politician. “How many of your…friends have I killed?”
Standing by the door, Kirai turned his ear to him, almost as if he hadn’t heard him correctly. “I’ve been here for ten years, and I think I know difference between a punk who needs reminders on manners, and insane people like you who just enjoy it.”
Blakely said nothing, did nothing. He just stared at him expecting an answer. “You killed none of my friends…you killed my brother.”
He mouthed his exact words in a mocking manner, fake shock written on his face. The man’s jaw moved forward, an under bite look on his face. He had gotten under Kirai’s skin, pushed his buttons in the most degrading and cruel manner.
He showed no remorse towards it. Silence reigned again. Blakely’s head tilted toward his guard. He opened his mouth preparing to talk, but it garnered no attention from Kirai. “Do you want to know why I used fire to kill him? Guns and swords are too quick. You can’t savor all the…little emotions. Put fire on smalls spots and they screamed. And, you see, in a person’s last moment, they show who they really are.” In truth, he had believed in this. His mentor had died, and showed his wisdom in his final moments. It was truth.
“In a way, I know your brother better than you.” The brother of Kirai had been with him from the start. This had rubbed the guard the wrong way, frustration had been shown again as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. Plus, the man had been an officer just like Kirai, but corrupt. “Do you want to know how much of a coward he was?”
The man pushed his lower jaw out again. Anger burned deep in his eyes. Kirai took his jacket off, a suit, and pulled his sleeves up. “I know you’re enjoyin’ this.” Blakely cracked his neck, a grin pulling at his face. “I’m just goin’ to have to enjoy this more!”
He pounced like a madman. Blakely grinned wildly. It had been awhile since he had done this.
His fist burned with passion. He felt nothing but release. Nothing but deep satisfaction. Kirai was startled, jumping out of the way of the blast of fire. Such a small space, if Blakely was what he thought, it only made him more dangerous. “You’re a…?
Another blast of fire escaped his fist, the “guard” jumping out of the way. Flames danced across the wall before they disappeared. “No.” It was just dripping with sarcasm.
ᵠ
A thud was heard as Blakely traced on the wall. He had dropped Kirai’s body, though not dead, on the floor. His finger, covered in a light flame, wrote a rune on the wall. A circle with an ‘X’ in the middle was as simple as it got. Intricate writing spread across the wall, only taking a moment to write.
His finger, covered in pure magic, slowly moved away from the seal. A small trail of magic attached to the rune and his finger was all there was. This was just part of a bigger plan. Going out with a bang.
He sighed. Only six more of these to write.
ᵠ
Six dead criminals. High end criminals that felt no remorse what they had done. Rape, murder, they had done it, those six. And they were happy with themselves! His sense of justice had skyrocketed when he first entered the jail- when he learned about those six.
The worst of the worst, and they died like a fly. It was deserving of them. No one would ever find the bodies either.
He entered a small room; his thoughts making the time go by faster. A phone, a rotary dial, was there for those who wanted to make a call. Oh, how he was glad that these were invented!
He dialed the number of a man named Iscariot, an apprentice under his master just like himself, though more untruthful. He was a greedy man since the death of their master. But, despite the fact that he was greedy for money, he was loyal to people with the same goals. “Iscariot!”
“Blakely?” His voice rang from across the line. A deep voice, but one that was filled with kindness and compassion; unless, one were to push the wrong buttons “What do you need me to do?” He asked again. Only Blakely knew this number, it was rather private.
“Kill Donovan, let his wife out before you blow up your building. I have business to finish here.”
“Roger that, Cap!” He hung up the phone and walked away. Blakely looked at his fingers. Seven had a trail of magic, invisible to others, led to each rune had placed on the cell walls of his and six other criminals.
It was time to finish this, and finally begin to bring the peace he was looking for. Unhappiness, sadness, guilt, and regret. It would all turn around soon enough.
And he let the trial of magic become wild like fire. Sprinklers went off and seven explosions sounded off in the jail. In the distance, he heard an extra two. They sounded like fireworks, an artistic performance that led to the death of corrupted men.
Donovan was dead, three buildings, one factory, and part of the orphanage were most like destroyed. But the best part! Blakely Lex, the largest of criminals in Gomorrah, killing many (corrupt) politicians, was dead.