On The Scale Of

Chapter 5

The sun had barely risen from its horizon and I was already on my feet. I felt bone-tired and dry-lipped. I tried to channel my internal will to live through the day. But failed. Miserably. Aren't I a bowl of sunshine? Ugh. Sarcasm with a sprinkle of depression. Not my ideal way to start the day.

My phone rang the third time today. It was starting to get on my nerve. I clicked answer and a gravelly voice replied, "He-ya."

Before I could greet back, he added, "Girlie connected me to ya. Yer her Protege, right?"

My right eye twitched. Is that what she calls me?

"I reckon ya are. I got a target." There was a rustle on the other line. "Ya there or what?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Sorry. Go on."

"Listen Missy, and listen good. This bastard's a dirty serial killer, so if ya want to sweep this city clean, ya better kill this guy fast."

"That's an interesting way of putting it," I said before I could stop myself.

"What is?"

"Sweep this city clean?" I quoted him.

"Aren't ya 'bout that shit? Bein' the 'Dark Angel of the Wronged'? Girlie seems pretty proud of that fact 'bout ya."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Girlie? Proud of me? What the hell does she think I am? Moreover, It's gonna take more than me to actually sweep this city clean.

"It's funny, I tell ya. Other hit men just do it for cash. It's nothin' to be ashamed of, really. It's just another job after all," he said it in such condescending tone that it was starting to trigger me.

"Did you call just to tell me that?" I gently bit my tongue to calm myself down.

He cackled on the phone. "Aight. Jeez. I'll meet you are the park then."

"What is the point of calling me?"

There was a bit of silence and then he chuckled, saying, "Why do people do things."

The line went dead and I stared at my phone. Why, indeed.

I ignored the tempting call of sleep and pulled myself off the bed. With a yawn, I put on a pair of my worn-out sneakers and wore my thick sweater over my head. It was barely sun out, so the temperature was still a bit cold. I drank a glass of water from the sink in my bathroom and then quietly headed downstairs. The quiet in the house was comforting, but a little lonely.

Flicking my sweater's hood over my head, I jogged my way to Melville park. I gasped for air halfway there. Man, am I in bad shape or what? I slowed my pace and shoved my hands in my sweater's pockets. I exhaled the cold air and rubbed my palms together.

I passed by several middle-class houses in the neighborhood. People still weren't up and about due to the fact that in this part of the city, it was rare to find an actual morning person here. I know that by experience. I've walked around this area all my life. Old people tend to move away from here. I don't really know why. So mostly the citizens here are working employees and were too tired to take morning walks or to lounge around in their patios.

I halted on my arrival at the park entrance. The stone-built arc overhead looked old and faded, and might topple off any second now. This wasn't the most popular park in the city for a reason. A cemetery nearby for instance; is one of the reasons.

As discreetly as I could, I briefly scouted the area. The park could really use some redecorating. The statues needed new coats of paint, and the water in the water fountain in the center doesn't even look like water at all. Dead leaves were scattered around the pavements. I guess in my field of work, there's never a clean place to be in. Because that's where most people would be.