The Mind of a Hero

Chapter Nine: Wave

"Back for more, huh?" Elmer grinned as Davey and Jack took their assigned seats. He sat patiently as Jack opened his tripod and set his camera on it, and as Davey rummaged through his backpack. They never steered from their habits.

"Could I have a piece of paper?" Davey pinched his thumb and pointer finger and used them as a pencil, writing on imaginary paper. He smiled politely as the guard on the right of Elmer went around the table and out of the door at Davey's thanks.

"See ya, Kevin", Elmer waved, and Jack chuckled. The red light of the camera shined to life, like always, and Elmer smiled into it. "Hello, everyone", he sang.

"The case of The Manhattan Murders, October 16, 2023. Questioning criminal Elmer Kasprzak", Jack sighed, rubbing his eye. Elmer raised a brow, noticing the dark circles resembling rubbed mascara, and how Davey seemed to be in a similar state.

Fatigue didn't look good on anyone—except Davey, Elmer thought. He made it work somehow, but Jack looked like he'd gotten run over by an eighteen-wheeler and barely survived falling off of the Brooklyn Bridge. In other words—"You both look like shit."

"Gee, thanks", Davey mumbled, smiling again when Kevin handed him a sheet of paper. "It takes a lot to look this pretty."

"You make it look effortless, babe."

"Bite me."

Elmer whistled in shock, eyes wide and mouth open like a little kid at Christmas. He glanced between the investigative partners amusedly, his hair bouncing in the light. "And nothing from you, huh?"

"I just want to get this over with", Jack grumbled. "The faster you start talking, the faster I get to sleep. Cool?"

Elmer shrugged, shaking his crossed leg under the table. He'd appreciated the freedom he was offered with his unchained ankles, a contradiction to his still cuffed wrists. He enjoyed the metaphor it worked with—despite how free he may seem, he is still chained down my standards. Albert would've liked that one; he hates it. "Fine. Whatever."

"Tell us about Courtney Jackson", Davey demanded, clicking a pen to use. Elmer snorted. "He was 24, and lived in Queens. How'd he get himself wrapped up in the Manhattan Murderers?"

"C.J.", Elmer began, and Davey scribbled. "C.J. was a kid who never knew what was good for him. When I first met him, he was robbing bodegas left and right. I hated him as soon as I saw him in the news."

Elmer grunted in frustration and clutched a pillow to his death, redistributing the itchy fluff within it to new corners. His skin crawled just by the sight of him, the recent criminal his district channel bothered to cover, his face shining with a smile from the only picture the news bothered to gather. How lazy of them not to dig deeper than a grin that ignited remorse.

"Who's that?" Elmer sighed out in pain as Albert placed his hands on the shorter's shoulders, but was careful not to squeeze.

"The police came to our door a week before", Elmer filled the investigators in, rolling his eyes. "Glasses were thrown, knives were pointed, but we kissed and made up."

"That doesn't sound healthy at all, Elmer", Jack laughed uncomfortably, rubbing his eyes away of sleep. Elmer blinked at him.

"Who are you to judge?"

"That's Courtney Jackson." Elmer glared at the TV and crossed his arms. "He's been robbing bodegas in Queens for weeks."

"Okay", Albert sighed, hopping over the couch easily, only grunting when he hit the surface. Elmer could feel the itch of his white bandage on the back of his neck, and it comforted him. "Why do we care, Ellie?"