Sign Here for Vengeance

Chapter 11: I Want My Morning Coffee

- ONE YEAR LATER -

JUDAH

"Hey, Art. What's going on outside?" I asked, noticing the hordes of people crossing the street, and blocking my view of the front window.

Arthur leaned in closer to examine the crowd, "I don't know, Jude. Some sort of protest."

"Protest?" I repeated, "For what? Did someone die?"

"Hey, don't ask me. Driving and body-guarding your ass is enough work. I don't have time for current events." He complained, falling back on his seat with both of his hands on the wheel.

I laughed and shook my head, "I never should've hired you."

"Should've said that to yourself five years ago." He remarked, taking a sip of his water bottle.

I chuckled at his boldness. If someone hears the way he speaks to me, no one would think I'm his boss. He sounds more like a brother. A dad at times, which is not really appropriate since he's not really that old. But he should be married with kids by now.

"Looks like the road cleared up."

After a minute, the crowd that disrupted the traffic has soon left the road. As soon as the lights turned green, Arthur stepped on the gas. I managed to get one last look on the protesting people that had just passed by. I was able to get a look at their banners.

It read "Justice for the victims of Aero Kea Flight 3510."

"Aero Kea?" I muttered to myself, wondering where I heard it, "Isn't that the plane that blew up a year ago?"

He looked at me from the rear-view mirror, then looked upwards as if trying to remember as well, "Oh, yeah. That flight. That was a year ago? Huh. Time sure does pass."

I rolled my eyes at his nonchalant tone. I know he's not interested in news. He only cared about getting the job done...and the money. Which is why I hired him. No other meaningless intentions attached, just the usual business. But even the Terminator had feelings for crying out loud.

Asking him would be pointless. So, I took out my phone and started searching. After a few seconds, I found an article about the Aero Kea tragedy. It was last year. 121 souls, including the crew and the pilots. No one survived. It was really terrible. It also says here that several protests happened over the past few months after the crash. The families of the victims were asking for a more thorough investigation. They want to investigate an engine failure? If they think it was no accident or something, and if they're right about it, an unanswerable question will surge.

Who in their right mind would blow up a plane? It's not a terrorist, I think. Since no one made a statement of it.

"Do you want to go straight to Kingston?" Arthur asked as I was reading.

I looked at my watch and my phone, which both read 6:35 am, "It's still early. I have time. Let's go a couple blocks ahead."

"Ah. Didn't have your morning coffee yet?" He smirked knowingly, "You know, there's a cafe down your building, right? Why do you even have to go seven blocks? Such a pain."

"You're paid to drive me. Every block adds a dollar to your paycheck. Why are you complaining?"

He paused for a moment, realizing the sense in my words, "The best cafe I know is just like 10 blocks more down the road. Wanna go?"

I let out a laugh, "Just take me to the usual, Art."

"Usual it is." He said, turning right. As he did, I saw the Kingston Corp. building on the corner of my eye. I moved closer to the window to see it in its full grandeur. I let out a satisfied sigh as I saw the sun rays dance on the black and silver tinted glasses of our glorious structure. Every corner, rounded or edged, was perfect and every panel seemed like made of crystal from afar. It didn't tower as high as the other buildings, but it was the most beautiful of them all. I had it remodeled after the Colosseum of Rome. It was such an architectural masterpiece that it was deemed a landmark just a year ago.