the radio blared at me before it shut down as I turned down the rest of the car. The moon was high and shined down over the empty factory. In Harper Rock people talked about how creatures roamed the night. Video lurked on the internet that "confirmed" these suspicions. Usually the footage was grainy. Modern day counterparts to the photos of Nessy from the Loach."We are not your kind of people, speak a different language, we see through your lies, we are not your kind of people. Won't be cast as demons, creatures you despise,"
Whether vampires were rule or not didn't mean monsters didn't lurk in Harper Rock. I knew this for a fact. Getting out of the car I tried be quiet shutting the door. Running my hand over the car a familiar voice chimed in from behind me.
"Danny Boy, are you excited as I am? Can you feel it!? Can you taste it!? Oh I can. I experience all of it and it's soooooooooooo good. It's like we've been brought back to life. Leaving behind the states, starting anew here!" the man behind me wearing a black suit with a charcoal gray shirt that was so dark it could have been black.
I didn't respond. Work needed to be done. Dipping inside my grey suit jacket I pulled out the keys and opened the trunk. A familiar black garbage bag waited on me. With a grunt I hefted it over my shoulder then began to walk toward the abandoned factory. As always My Dark Friend did little to help, but he followed me like every other time.
Over the years I've lost track of which of us belonged to the other. My Dark Friend was a product of my damaged psyche or I was a product of his. All I knew was I had control of the body, and he was forever with me. My guest commentator that never left. The urge that tugged in the back of my mind when I grew too quiet. He was many things to me, whether I liked it or not, My Dark Friend always watched.
Crunching my feet made their way over grass and concrete. Dumping the bag inside an empty oil bare I pushed open the black industrial plastic. A severed hand practically waved at me. Bits of crimson slid down the fingers. The blood had yet to congeal. Nearby part of a leg was my accelerate, engine cleaner.
Burning faster and hotter than oil it was great for the final part of my ritual. Emptying the bottle over all of the body parts in the bag, they belonged to Adrian Newbourne a man that "allegedly" had nothing to do with his wife's disappearance. Evidence screamed foul play against him, but it was all circumstantial. He walked free...until he met me.
I'm a private investigator and always have been since college. I'm the guy that's been paid to dig through your trash, keep tabs on you, and find things to use against you in legal matters. As a P.I. I work within the law, what I do is legal, but people believed it was just unethical or immoral. It was still legal thus justified.
The world showed me its true face within the first year of the job. Then I began to work outside of the law for my night hobby. At the end of the day those that deserved justice walk free. I've used what I can to make sure their journey was short, like Mr. Newbourne here.
With the bottle empty I pulled out a box of stick matches, lit it and my eyes marveled at the flame. The last piece of the puzzle, every time. Each flicker was almost like a small wave before I tossed it. Flames shot up quickly from the barrel.
My Dark Friend stood next to me and we watched for a few moments. I knew the world wasn't free of monsters because...I was one. At least I was a monster better than most.
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OOC: Quoted lyrics are by the band Garbage from their song "Not Your Kind of People."
