Synthetic Heart

02 - New Identity

I scan the house once I'm inside and I catch a whiff of wood and coffee. It appears he's alone. "You don't have to call me that anymore. I got fired, so I'm back to being Megan," I shoot him a glare. 

"I'm glad that you're finally back in town. You could've told me, I would've set up a room for you—"

"That won't be necessary," I say without looking at him. I study his kitchen through the foyer. He has newspapers all over the table.

"Come on, now, I don't mind—"

"—I said no," I shoot him a glare. 

He pauses. He's taken aback, but he instantly brushes it off with a smile. "At least join me for coffee."

There's a longing in his voice; I'm not sure if he wants company or if he'd genuinely missed me. He doesn't wait for me to answer and heads over to the kitchen.

He shouts from the table, "I'm gonna pour you a cup."

I notice light coming from a room near the stairs. Inside the room is a board filled with newspaper clippings. On top of that, he has newspapers stacked everywhere. 

There was one article about Mike that caught my attention. It was a headline celebrating his help in capturing the Lakeshore Strangler. 

What's he doing with an old case?

A few clippings below it are about a doll. There are multiple photos of the same odd-looking doll.

The fact that I handled lots of strange and sick kinds of people on my job, I still have to say, this one is beyond strange. Nevertheless, interesting. I mean, if he would have told me this is the kind of cases detectives deal with, it would have truly convinced me to join them.

But in reality, all they do is follow stupid rules to catch the bad guys and, mostly, fall guys who don't deserve it. They fight to save the city, I fight for the pleasure of ridding this country of assholes.

It's what the force can't do—legally. So they entrust agents like me to do the dirty work.

But now that I'm thinking about it, I'm glad I'm off the hook. What's better than choosing your own target? Plus, I've done nothing but put my ass on the line because all they ever do is assign me to get rid of ex-agents. I willingly put a target on my back for them. Not anymore.

This time, I choose what I want to do.

"Coffee's here!" I hear Uncle Mike shout from the kitchen.

I quickly take a newspaper clipping about the killer doll and hide it in my pocket. This is something I can learn about to pass the time. 

When I enter the kitchen, I see Mike pouring hot coffee into a cup. I remove my coat and hang it over the chair before sitting across him. a 

"I'm glad to see you."

I snicker and shake my head in disbelief. "After you convinced my boss to fire me, you're glad to see me like this?" 

He purses his lips before parting it to speak calmly, "Your father told me—" 

"Why does everyone think they can just decide for me? Like I can't make choices for my own life?"

Mike hunches over as if trying to get closer. "He didn't want you to end up like him." He tries to reach for my hand but I move it away. 

"I appreciate your concern but he isn't here anymore." 

"You can move on, now, Meg. I'll get you a job, I'll provide everything you need," his eyes widen. "Oh! There's an opening at the station—"

"The police? Do you think being a cop makes the job cleaner? At least doing what I do doesn't require me to pretend that I'm protecting people."

He snaps at me, "Don't say that."

"I kill because some people deserve to die. And you can never stop me from doing what I want to do." 

"What are you planning to do? Chase down bad guys all your life?" he raises his tone. "You do that and you'll be labeled a vigilante. This city can't afford another mess."

"You think I care?" I stand from my seat, trying to stay away from him. "This is my choice, Mike! This is everything I have, don't you understand that?"

He watches me pace the floor.

"This is what I have left and what I know best. This is what I wanted. I'm not the same teenager you've been babysitting." I slam my hand on the table. "I'm not your problem anymore."

Mike looks away, sliding his hand off the table as he realizes that he has failed to reach out to the little girl he once knew. "If that's what you want, then I can't stop you." 

"Now you realize you wanna let me go? Now that I lost the job?"

"I'm sorry, Meg." 

"You're sorry?" I sneer. "Right."

I snatch my coat hanging on the chair and head for the door. My temp is boiling and I'm trying my best not to tackle him against the wall or punch him. I slam the door shut behind me and instead kick my foot against the house's brick balustrade. A loud groan escapes me.

When I've calmed down, I start walking away from the house. But something inside me makes me want to turn around. So I do and I see him from the window. He's standing still. He has his back against the window so I don't see his face or what he's doing. 

I walk away from his home, just wanting to be anywhere but here.

A few moments later, I slide my hand into my coat pocket and remember the newspaper clipping I snatched from his office. I decide to head to the library instead to keep my mind off of things.