Chapter Text
His life ends here.
Sidney Wagner, 24 years of age, birthday on the 30th of June.
Her place in the system is ranked high, as she is one of the more well-known sergeants chosen by the commander.
Her family included her adoptive parents, Dean and Sue Wagner, and her twin brother, Jonas Wagner.
She went missing early during the week, gone for approximately two days before her brother got worried and spread the word. Investigators were sent out to find her after a few hours later, accompanied by Dean, the head commander. Eventually they were able to find the body behind a cliff, receding down into a cove on a Friday.
The body experienced multiple stab wounds, cut expertly through the stomach area, piercing several vital organs that resulted in quick system failure and lead to the cause of death; Severe blood loss. The water that was later found in her lungs and the rope burns marking the skin around her wrists and legs had been evidence that the body had been through prolonged torture right before death.
Additionally, her two middle fingers had been cut off and nowhere found in the scene, leading to the assumption that the murderer had taken them as a prize.
Conclusion; this was a very stylized murder.
It was the work of someone who has done this prior before but it was all too crystal clear. The craftsmanship of cutting off the fingers was a signature that the police knew too well of.
“Jesus, a Narcotics kill? Are you serious?”
The sentence was murmured all around the station. People going bug eyed and then making a despondent face that screamed “well, shit.”
The panic was evident.
Narcotics is a notorious gang that plagues the village of Sellwood, along with other close by towns and cities. They control most of the section in North California, even becoming so powerful that they’re taking over Oregon by brute force alone. Little is known about the people that make up the gang. If spotted in the midst of battle, they would wear masks that were meant to cause fear and to hide their identities.
They are the underground railroads of destruction.
They transport and buy drugs, known for selling them to big companies and people of importance. Most of their money comes from these drug exchanges but the other significant part was the speakeasies. After the banishment of alcohol, they had become the so called “reign of light” for having over thirty speakeasies secretly hidden around town.
Rumor had it that a man who went by the name “Mueller” was the boss and creator of Narcotics. The name had been thrown around here and there but there was no way of identifying him since no records came up.
In more dangerous news, they were also relentless savages that liked to kill on the spot with little to no hesitation.
They had a dark sense of humor.
After dumping a body in a secluded area, they would cut the middle fingers off. It was their disturbing way of making a statement. And now, Sidney Wagner has become a subject to that.
Everyone knew the moment they saw the distressing news that this whole case was going to be a complete and utter failure. The chances of trying to find a Narcotics member, and hell, trying to catch a glimpse of “Mueller” was nearly impossible. It didn’t make it easier that they were also slick and careful, passing off as everyday people by blending in with the crowd.
Jonas watched his fellow coworkers give up before his very eyes.
He could see the way these people are losing every ounce of hope to try to crack this case. How pathetic.
Dean stood next to him, face oddly placid but his hands were in tight fists that looked as if he was holding back the urge to punch someone. He spoke words that had everyone quieting down, “as long as our efforts are strong and strategic, we can manage to push our forces to the limit and then dismantle the gang until we collect enough evidence to put the crime lord behind the murder in jail.”
The sea of policemen’s expressions changed. Not to something positive like he had hoped, but to being even more weary of their commander's words.
Were they serious? Were they seriously going to act like a bunch of good for nothing neanderthals now? Jonas stared, his eyes hard and unfocused. They felt glassy in their sockets.
None of them had been there.
Dean had dragged him along to the crime scene. He rushed out there like a fool, desperate to see if his sister was alright. The moment kept replaying back in his head like the horrendous scratch of a record player on repeat. Standing there… In their little hideout…
God.
Every moment starting from their birth, to all those tasteless childhood memories that was like dry candy against his lips, transitioning into deranged teenage years where blood sliding down his neck and wrists felt natural; All the way to now.
Adulthood had dragged him by the neck with a thick scratchy rope.
However, there is a large comparison to then and now. Then, he had a leg to stand on; moreso an anchor to keep him from disappearing into the depths of the water.
Sidney, his twin sister, his support beam, a constant in his life with a fire that never died down. She was one of the only good things to come out of this greyscale town that left their hopes battered and bruised. In the middle of a depressed era, with their lives laid out for them, she still managed to make him laugh and was ever so confident in her words. It was a world of desperation and greed, so he looked up to her for trying to stay on the bright side.
She spoke like she knew what she was saying.
She was a light amongst piggish faces and power hungry jerks that were always looming over them. Their interlocked hands and innocent doe eyed faces have seen more through the years than the kids with parents that were car sale owners or worked at the local diner. While other kids read magical fairy tales, they were learning how to tell the difference between a gunshot and a firework.
Police life wasn’t something they chose but more of a career path they were meant to drown in. Its murky waters pushed against their lungs until there was no more room to breathe. It was determined that he and Sidney would get used to the feeling of having everything force fed to them. He saw as Sidney tried to swim through, hands reaching up to the surface, trying to adjust in this shallow life they both were thrown in. She fought every single second to be able to feel like their conditions was normal.
While Sidney did all that she could do to make the best out of a terrible situation, he took the liberty of sitting at the bottom and giving up ungraciously. He allowed the pain of saltwater and pressure embedding itself into his body become a norm.
He was the cowardly one out of the two.
Still, they did come to a sort of agreement. They carried on and weaved through, floating into one's space. It wasn’t all that bad at times either. Just like one could appreciate the life of being underwater, they can only learn to understand that the police world was glorious, yet brutal, in its own ways.
It was like a whole new world that not many knew about.
Their hot summer days consisted of watching criminals be dragged in through the doors of the police station, rather than being outside eating ice cream at the park. He and Sidney even doodled on some papers Dean handed them whenever they got bored. Years later, they would learn how to read these papers and discover that were doodling all over old murder and drug cases.
That was fine.
But now he’s not so sure.
How many times has Jonas seen a crime scene? How many of times has he looked over and saw the remnants of blood stains lingering around the room? How many times has he seen dead bodies be carried out by every day paramedics?
Countless of times.
Dean’s idea of an “educational field trip” was taking Sidney and him to the prison cells where they would go up and down, examining prisoners like they were at a zoo watching animals. So really, this wasn’t something he should be squeamish about. Which in theory, is ridiculously messed up, given the circumstances that these were all human lives.
Well… He guesses that all that training of making sure to keep a calm state of mind during violent scenes was now going to waste.
It’s been a day. Or a few hours? He doesn’t know. The flashes of images of yellow tape keep him awake.
There was lots of yellow tape lining the area. Police cars were all in the same vicinity, each of their lights blaring red and blue, it was striking his vision in a way that made Jonas see colorful bursts of dots around the edges.
It hurt.
Was it his eyesight or his sinking stomach?
The need to vomit rested against the back of his tongue as he remembered watching investigators and policemen roam their grubby hands all around the place he thought was sacred. It was supposed to be their secret. Only they should have known about this place; it held too much heart, even with its muddy waves and unpleasant crunchy sand, it was a home. An escape. One he and Sidney went to when times got rough and they needed a moment to think.
It’s almost funny how it could be ruined so easily, now with everyone’s hands groping around and prodding to find something more. He’s going to throw up, the hot rush of fluid fills his mouth but he’s in too much shock to let it spill out. It’s painful. Swallowing it down is like pins and needles dragging down his throat.
She was being treated like another victim.
He had stood there. Not being any use to anyone. Not to her, not to Dean, not even to himself. He only stood there gaping like a fish, feeling every part of his organs slowly start to shut down as the news hit him hard like a smack in the face. No, this time it was worse.
It was a punch, followed by a kick to his stomach, and then being headbutted so hard he falls to his side, writhing. That was the feeling. Except more excruciating than he can ever imagine. This… This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. The yellow tape, the sirens, the white noise that plagued his thoughts, this was all routine.
They would pack up the body, examine for clues, and then be on their merry way.
It’s different now. So vastly different. Is this what the families felt? When they looked them in the eyes and said “I’m sorry, we couldn’t find any further evidence of the murderer.” Was it really this unbearable? Would he ever be the same?
Blood.
There was sand covered in blood, now faded into this dull blackish color. Sick, this is sick. He is sick. People are sick.
Sidney.
His twin sister. She did everything with him. She pulled him through his dark hazes and did her best to never leave him behind. She was always there to nag him around, pinch his cheeks and then lift him in her surprisingly strong arms.
Everywhere she went she would manage to charm someone with her naturally social personality. It left people surprised when she put him above everything else.
She was like a guardian for him. She was one of the only female sergeants in the whole workplace. She is strong willed, funny, smart…
It doesn’t make sense that she would die in this fashion.
His body doesn’t feel real. He’s floating away from this reality and escaping. This is no longer a life worth living if his sister ceases to exist.
She is dead.
Someones telling him to get a grip. He doesn’t register who it is, perhaps the Chief? He never liked that guy. Or was it Dean? He feels himself going cross eyed, the earth giving out beneath him, and oh. Oh is he falling?
She is dead.
His mind is running in circles. They’re dashing and shuddering, turning into an intense tornado that has his world spinning. He is caught in the storm… He wants an umbrella. But she’s gone. She’s gone, she is gone, he will never have another umbrella ever again.
She is dead.
This was how his life ends, huh?
Watching as all these men lose their own confidence. They couldn’t even try to look determined. Are they going to put on a brave face and do everything in their power to find the man who did this to his sister?!
It takes only a beat.
He takes a huge gulp of air as he reaches for the surface. There’s no more time for sitting at the bottom of a lake like a cry baby with no intention of ever doing anything with his life. There is no time. He’s run out of time. Sidney… Dear Sidney. Her clock had been punched out and smashed against the wall before he even had the chance to tell her that he was grateful for her.
Who knew how much time she had left before it was wrenched right out of her.
Jonas can’t do this… He can’t stare at the broken pieces expecting them to mold back together by some miracle.
Stoic.
She didn’t get to live her life to zero.
Why should he?
Sidney Wagner is dead, and Jonas Wagner died right beside her spirit.
It was an end of an era. The end of the person Jonas once was. The end of Jonas being able to take long naps in the middle of the day and going to work with an altered version of a happy outlook on things. He can’t be that person anymore. It was the end of everything that made him once hopeful to come to work every grueling day.
So he starts formulating revenge before he gets a chance to cry.
He hates crying.
“Jonas?” It’s Dean. He doesn’t register that all of his coworkers are watching him silently cry on the platform.
He doesn’t respond.
“Jonas are you okay?”
“No.”
They leave it at that.
It’s been three days and they begin with a further investigation.
Dean does not tell him that a couple of his best men have already been assembled as a search party. He even hand picked those that were going to be on Sidney’s murder case. It comes to an agonizing shock when he doesn’t see his own name on the roster.
When confronting some of the members of the team they all seemed passive when talking to him. They had stated cold and upfront that Dean had instructed them to not speak word of any details from the case or the investigation. That was downright frustrating, even when he yelled that he was her brother they still turned away. “No one of the public should know too much information,” is what they said. What a huge joke!
He’s part of homicide, he has the right to be on that team, for god’s sake that’s his sister of course he has the right!
Jonas tells him just as that.
“This isn’t fair! Why can’t I join the organized crime team?!” He’s exasperated, the red under his eyes have been much more intense. For someone who loves the sleep, Jonas hasn’t had the time of day to get any shut eye.
“This is no time to throw a fit, you are not a teenager anymore, Jonas,” Dean says while he looks down at him, the visible superior difference between them was overpowering. It’s always made Jonas feel sick to his stomach, the way Dean could make him not only look small but feel small as well.
“I’m not throwing a- Dean, please! This is Sidney we’re talking about!” He doesn’t remember the last time he raised his voice like this. It would have been a death sentence on any other occasion.
“Jonas!” The sudden shout makes him flinch, “you are not going to be a part of the team and that will be all!”
“But you get to?! That doesn’t make any sense!”
“Are you talking back to me?” Dean says, and it’s a phrase that has Jonas reeling backwards to his childhood and teenage years. It shouldn’t scare him anymore, especially not at the age of twenty four. This is stupid.
It’s even stupider when he feels his mouth clamp up and tears well up painfully in his eyes.
“No, I… This is Sidney, she’s- this is-” He’s stuttering, the stinging gets worse.
Dean gives a deep stressed sigh, “this is exactly why you can’t join. You’re too closely connected to the case, your emotions will be a hassle to take care of.”
The angry yells are caught in his throat, the fears of a sixteen year old boy still keeping him in a chokehold. His blood boils, staring incredulously at the other, confused and angered by his selfish words. A hassle? His emotions were a hassle to the case? “ I’m too closely connected to the case? What about you?”
There is a distant look in Dean’s eyes that he can’t quite make out.
“That’s different.”
“How is it different?!”
“Jonas. No more. Go to your station and work on your own cases. We have this under control, don’t get involved.” It was final. Dean never liked repeating himself so he simply watched as Jonas broke down beneath his gaze, the soft crying wracking through his shoulders and fists. Dean shook his head, “Stop that. You are a man now Jonas. Make sure to give your mother a visit at forensics.”
He thinks it’s childish how he keeps chanting in his head how unfair this is.
The murmuring around him had grown incessant. It’s been there for these past few days. Fellow coworkers and pedestrians, that knew Jonas his whole life, are now walking on eggshells around him. The muted whispers of condolences and pity had the hair on the back of his neck standing. They ranged from “poor boy,” to “how come she died and he didn’t.” If he’s being honest with himself, that same question also haunts him.
Then there are ones that has his stomach turning into unimaginable knots. The ones that give up, the people that have Sidney’s honor in their hands and how willingly they’re letting it slip through the cracks of their fingers.
“Why should we bother at this point?
“I don’t understand why Dean’s making us do this again. This happens every month and no progress is ever made.”
“We’ve been looking for three years, it’s time to drop this dontcha think?”
“Yeah but his daughter was the victim and all... “
“What does that matter? We’re never gonna find a trace of ‘em!”
His jaw is starting to ache from how hard he’s clenching it.
Out of anyone in this entire town he knows all of it better! He knows Narcotics’ little antics like the back of his hand. Ever since they showed up about four years ago they have been under Dean’s watch, therefore it was also under his and Sidney- well.. Just his now.
He knows better than any of these rookies how difficult it is to trace them down. All this time he’s watched Dean come back empty handed with nothing to hand over. Jonas didn’t come along to most of them but he could hear all about it at the dinner table. He was never given a chance to actually work on a Narcotics case but he’s the one who's heard about them since day one. Maybe with a hold of more information and some clever tactics he could… He could...
They’re staring now.
No doubt he looks rabid. His eyes feel blown out and his hands could barely keep steady. He knows… He knows how Narcotics is awfully elusive. It was the worst thing a cop could deal with.
Jonas is not an actual cop though. He may be part of the station but his identity is mostly hidden behind the blank faces of the homicide team. Gang members are probably smart enough to recognize the man in the uniform rather than the one being reluctantly dragged by his adoptive father.
That’s right.
Sidney liked to give him random words of advice at strange times. There was one occurrence where a bunch of rookies kept mixing his case files with the ones from forensics together. He was struggling to fix their mistake when Sidney had seen him stressed out and filing away. She grinned sympathetically, bumped his hip and said, “hey, if you wanna do something right, you gotta do it yourself.”
The words burn into his skin.
Why would Dean rather have their sloppy attitudes rather than his dedicated emotional state? It didn’t make any sense… Whatever. He doesn’t need to be a part of some lazy team that would only drag him down.
If he wants to do something right, he’s gotta do it himself.
That’s how he ends up dragging his old backpack to work at the crack of dawn. Officers linger around here and there but no one’s officially awake to notice his skittering around.
It’s not the first time he’s broken into Dean’s office either.
He and Sidney may have tried to be mostly good kids but what kind of children didn’t get into wild antics? He was trying not to linger on memories that involved breaking in to grab their confiscated candy, and how Sidney had snatched his favorite gummy words right from Dean’s desk… Ugh, anyways. It was easy to get past the lock, being his son was only better because no one would question why he was in there.
There were files upon files, all stacked inside a file cabinet dedicated to Narcotics. They were all a bunch of menaces after all. He took one good look at the load and grabbed as many as he could, stuffing them in his backpack in a hurry.
He knew that Dean rarely looked at old files, which is what he needed. Any information he could get his hands on these insane bullies the faster he could work.
Stage one complete.
The next is easy. Jonas tries not to feel so bad for lying to Dean about this, and he doesn’t get Sue’s opinion because Dean always makes the decisions when dealing with him. That and he doesn’t feel too confident talking to Sue.
It looks to be she’s the one taking this situation with actual human emotions. While Dean is a brick wall, he himself is an overworking nut eating his own feelings, she has become a recluse. Her silence is deafening and no one dares ask her how she’s doing or if she’s okay. She doesn’t get the pity party that people throw at Jonas every day, instead she keeps her air of intimidation but now with a frozen exterior.
He should talk to her. He doesn’t know how.
Besides, he eats his own feelings.
“Dean, sir,” the last bit is a force of habit, “I… I wanted to ask about something.”
“You can not join the team. Haven’t I told you before? You know I don’t like repeating myself.” Dean says and it makes Jonas flinch for a moment before he shakes his head to affirm no. He’s given up asking about that.
“I want… To take time off.”
That makes Dean pause, clearly not expecting to hear those words. He glances up at him, only half-interested but at least there is something there. “Oh...? You’re not doing this to slack off are you?”
“No, sir… I haven’t been myself. You were right,” he hates to say those words, “my emotions are getting the best of me. I’m no use to anyone right now because of it... I shouldn’t be working when I’m not gonna do anything anyways.” He wonders if the words sound too rehearsed, too practiced or lazy.
Dean gives him a shock of a lifetime when he stares a little too hard and then almost has an understanding look on his face.
“If that is what you want, then yes you can take time off.” Dean’s response has Jonas eyes bulging out of his head for a moment before he goes rigid.
“Ah- t-thank you?”
“I expect you to come back… But I get it. Your mother isn’t looking too good either. Your unhealthy emotional state is doing no one good. I expect you to only take a maximum of six months off.” he’s stern, almost unemotional and it scares Jonas how someone can be so calm when dealing with this. Many years of training does something to you, he guesses...
“I-I promise I’m not slacking off on my duties! It’s just cause… Sidney.. Not being here, I…” he almost lets truth shed into his lies but he stops himself before more could be said. Dean nods, not needing to hear anymore either.
It’s almost too easy.
But perhaps he’s reading Dean too much like an empty shell. He has no idea how he’s taking this whole thing in on the inside… No matter, that’s not the focus.
The mounds of files in his bag is pleasantly heavy as he packs away his things from his small office. He passes a glance towards Sue, she looks as if she’s dazed and staring at nothing, he doesn’t do anything and keeps walking. He’ll get the guts to talk to her about this sooner or later… But for now, he has work to do.
He needs something to work with, a lead to follow that will correspond to something- anything! Because let’s face it, after being in the industry for so long Jonas knows more than a few unspoken rules. No matter how careful, or how ruthless and dangerous;
Criminals always get sloppy.
Jonas likes puzzles.
It was one of those things that Dean never really understood about him. He didn’t know why he would choose simple games rather than enjoy the hard workout of training with Sidney. To put it simply, he sucked at strenuous exercises.
What was even more difficult was the fact that most of the training had to do with combat skills and running.
First of all, he wasn’t a runner. In fact, running is terrible, why would anyone like running? Either way, not his strong suit.
Second of all, he was no fighter. Sure, he wasn’t entirely weak, in fact his punch was kind of strong but always hesitant. He also can’t see himself wanting to hurt someone. He gets angry of course, who doesn’t? But to the point of harming someone else? Not quite.
Maybe that’s why Dean always looked down at him. What kind of police officer wasn’t ready to take on that kind of action at any moment? It didn’t do wonders for his, already fragile, self esteem.
Physically he wasn’t the best. No, he sucked, there was no sugar coating it. So how did he become the officer he was today? Easy, the largest component of himself that made him stronger than anyone else had stumbled in seemingly out of nowhere. It was a gift from Sue, who had picked it out randomly with no intention of choosing something he would actually like.
Puzzles.
All the pieces scattered all over the floor made him excited.
These were pieces that were supposed to be molded together to create a bigger picture. It was painting out a meaning, and if there was anything Jonas liked, it was a solution to a deep rooted problem.
Critical thinking skills.
Without it, you couldn’t survive a day in the investigation world. Brute force was one thing but intelligence was another. Jonas had to admit, being part of the police force was not easy when you can barely run half a mile in the thirty minute span; he’s tried before and he would always end up exhausted and out of breath. Despite not liking that part about himself he knew that he was no hopeless case.
He made it to the homicide team because he was one of the smartest people in their rookie group. He liked the mental aspect rather than the physical, to be able to piece together something until he had discovered an answer was essential.
After all, what’s muscle without brains?
This was all one huge puzzle. He’s done thousand piece puzzles, sometimes even five thousand piece ones, this would be his first ten thousand piece one.
That’s what the files all spread out looked liked to him. They all each carried a key to connecting to one another and therefore making something big. He knew that no one else would be able to do this, it was his own job.
Jonas knew. He had a whole bunch of ideas gathering in his head but they were silenced by Dean.
Their men weren’t the best. They were average, nothing really special about them. In a lesser town called Sellwood, what real importance can there be here? So they were never in their tip top shape. They liked the confines of thinking in their box, he’s not sure how long he can stand it… Dean had never approved his own sparks of creativity.
Breaking your own rules, going undercover, reaching out to the enemy, placing yourself in the wild animal den.
They were all things that were way too risky. Anything could go wrong at any scenic moment. If you were caught you might as well be dead, so that was never an option. It was swept away by all the others.
Until now.
The puzzle pieces are coming together.
Dean would want him to report this surely, but this is not something they didn’t already know.
A big tight-knit event. It was a huge party to commemorate all the success Narcotics has made. Everyone and anyone who wouldn’t rat them out was invited. It was a celebration only held once a month at an in-town speakeasy.
Yes, criminals do get sloppy.
Well, maybe they’re more clever than he perceived.
Then again, they have reigned power over most the north for an executive four years now. The thought makes him want to grind his teeth into dust.
How annoying.
A planned celebration, although most were invited there were precautions that it must be inclusive. The only way to get in was if you knew the location, and to know that you had to have connections. A “I know a guy who knows a guy,” type scenario.
Speakeasies were already tricky to find as they were suppose to blend in naturally in the environment. Not only was the celebration never consistent in what date it occurs, Narcotics decided to take the precaution of having it at a different speakeasy every single time. He had to hand it to them, they’re definitely not as dumb as they seem.
There must be something.
Anything that can lead him to their little hideout. He’s being reckless, but it’s for Sidney. She was always a wild card that would threaten to give him an aneurysm at the age of twenty. Someone had to live on her legacy, even if he’s not her, he can do her some good.
The days drag on.
He’s made a bulletin board in his room. Everything that has a correlation will be tied together by some red yarn he found in Sidney’s closet. It may be a bit obsessive but if he’s working so hard to the point of not getting his regular eight hours of sleep, then it has to be a sign of progression, right? It has to be.
There are stressful hours of staring down at files and flipping through pages until he stumbles across one that has him doing a double take.
Bingo.
An old coworker file mixed in with the rest.
He recognized her quickly.
She had a presence that was both borderline hardcore and maternal. Even though he never really talked to her, seeing as she was mostly in the background, he had the feeling when she was around, things were controlled and protected. For him at least.
Every day her voice rang through the office, only really talking to one other assistant. He always wondered what they were talking about, always eyeing the area around them and snickering in mirth. Anyways, Jonas liked her. Something about her was… Comforting, maybe even a little familiar… That was until she got fired.
He had been there on the day of her departure. The file included some more details to explain why. It was another missing piece to the puzzle.
She had been fired three months prior due to her excessive drinking problem.
The deputy heavily looked down on her. Since the prohibition had begun, all alcohol was supposed to be terminated and banned, but that didn’t seem to matter to her since she came to work wasted even if it was illegal to do so. It was a disgrace to their community.
On a Friday, she came plastered once again with a bottle of beer hidden in her jacket. She wasn’t really bothering anyone, and Jonas didn’t want to say anything against her but it was clear everyone knew. What she was doing was insane but still, she never did anything to disrespect him. In fact, she was one of the only officers that didn’t put him down. Dean, however, was not having any of it.
He had been the one to fire her on the spot and she had left in style. She smashed the bottle on the ground right, waved two middle fingers in Dean’s face and called him an “obnoxious asshole,” all while kicking the door open and stomped away.
Jonas laughed a bit at that. She doesn’t sound half bad, especially if she could say that to Dean’s face.
Her friend was also fired a day later due to her own drug problem.
Jonas could only hope they’re doing okay. But this wasn’t about her.
He examined the file closer, knowing it had to be a sign.
It couldn’t be a coincidence that she was a drinker, a heavy one at that. In this day and age, there were no more liquor stores open yet she managed to have enough to get her wasted. She had to be getting her supply from somewhere so that only left with one explanation.
She’s aware where the speakeasies are. If so, she could lead him straight to Narcotics. It wasn’t a full proof plan but at least it was something.
It’s all he needed right now. He took off without another word, knowing what he had to do.
She lived on the farther east side of town. Mostly secluded from everyone else and Jonas was glad for the privacy. He appreciated that, it was less likely to bump into someone he knew. He hoped she would recognize him or else this was going to be really creepy. If all goes wrong, he could pretend to be a Jehovah’s Witness member.
The door cracked open.
“Hello- woah woah, is that Jonas, I see!? Holy shit!” Was her response and she flung the door wide open in invitation. She gave him a million dollar smile and pulled him in, “I haven’t seen you in a while! How’ve ya been, kid?”
Jonas was flooded with relief at her positive reaction. He felt the comfort waft from her as soon as he saw her, good thing to know that some things don’t change.
“Ah, I’ve been… Anyways uh, things are. Going,” he said awkwardly. The ex-officer gave him a small smile, but this one sadder and edged in regret.
“I heard what happened to Sidney,” her eyes glanced off, almost as if she was angered at someone, “I couldn’t believe it when I heard it.”
He coughed, “ah… Yeah. It’s-It’s you know- I don’t really wanna talk about it.” He looked over behind her shoulder and saw some beer bottles all over her coffee table. Good, that hasn’t changed either.
“Yeah, you don’t gotta. I’m not ready to have that talk either.” She sauntered over to the couch, sprawling over it and Jonas followed her stiffly.
“Any reason for the visit? Dean still being an assmunch?”
He huffed a breath of laughter, “Um no? I mean, yeah but… The reason I’m here is cause… Well,” he tried to motion towards all her beer and back to her.
“Huh…? Oh. Ohhh!” she grabbed a bottle off the table.
“You want a drink? Here, take it, I don’t mind.”
“Ah not exactly... “ he took a deep breath, “I wanted to know… If you know any speakeasies around?”
She didn’t look too surprised. Almost as if she was expecting that answer. With an all too knowing gaze she said, “You’re not the type to want to know that kind of information. You’re not much a drinker.”
“Y-yeah, I know but… Listen, my sister is. She’s dead. And I need a drink.”
She kept smiling, no trace of any anger or distrust as she kicked off the couch and grabbed a piece of paper and pen. “Any particular place you wanna go to?” She asked while writing down something.
“Oh uh! I heard… I heard there was a big party happening? It sounds like something I needed because… Of everything happening, I would like to uh.. Cut loose?” he was terrible at this. No way was the ex-officer buying any of this.
“Here.”
She cut him out of his own self doubt by handing over the paper. “It’s the directions to the party. Hope to see you there, Jonas.”
He blinked down at her outstretched hand but quickly grabbed it when he realized it had worked. He couldn’t believe it was that easy! “Oh my god, thank you! You’re a lifesaver! I really… Really needed this.”
“Save your cheering. Look, I wrote down some codes you need to get in. Tell ‘em Bud sent me here,’ at the entrance. If you’re looking for drugs, just tell the bartender ‘it’s looking like a smoke planet in this joint.’ That’s the two more used.” She tells him this carefully and he hangs on every word, nodding along.
“I don’t think I’ll be using the drug one but uh… Do you know of any… Codes to talk to gang members?” He asks, trying to seem casual about it.
She’s stunned for a moment before shaking her head, “Nah. But listen, I’ll tell you this. People are always using some kind of weird as shit codes. You can pick some up and it’ll lead you straight to where you wanna be.”
“How will I know what is a code?”
“Trust me, you’ll know.” That’s all she says and then she’s sitting back down. He tries to say his thanks again but is cut off, “Eh, it was no big deal. Just don’t get there looking like a cop or you’ll probably get the shit beaten out of you.”
Jonas eyes widened. She was right. He always takes his uniform everywhere, it was like a second skin to him ever since he started working. Geez, when was the last time he even went out somewhere and been himself?
“Gosh, thanks for the heads up! Really, you’ve helped so much!”
“No need for thanks. Besides, you’ll be thanking me later.”
“Huh?”
She winked at him, knowing something he didn’t. He didn’t dwell on it as she shooed him away, telling him to go out there and “kick ass.”
Jonas was feeling accomplished.
He’s getting one step closer every time.
This was the worst idea he’s ever had.
He’s ready to bail.
For an entire week he’s been preparing for the actual date of the big bash. He got comfortable not wearing his uniform everywhere, he even got himself a nice pair of suspenders to go with his yellow dress shirt. Though, it did little to nothing to calm the sudden onslaught of nerves crashing over him.
The party scene was never meant for him. It’s proving itself right now as he tries to wrangle himself through countless of dancing bodies crowding the entrance to try and get to the bar. This was going to end terribly.
He sits down at a bar stool, ordering a plain beer when the bartender asks what he wants and tries to calm himself down or else he was going to burst.
After all his work, even if it had been the span of two weeks, it was something and he couldn’t let it all slip down the drain. This was for Sidney. He couldn’t let her down when the opportunity had presented itself.
He gives a small thanks as his beer is handed to him. He doesn’t open it, he’s never one to drink in the first place. The feel of coolness coming from the bottle is comforting and for now it’s enough. Jonas tries to hold back the feeling of smashing his head against the counter and running away before he gets too deep in this situation.
He’s officially prying around in the lion’s den.
Everyone around him is hopped up on some sort of drug or completely plastered. There’s couples making out and skeevy looking drug deals going around. He’s dangerously outnumbered in this environment.
But they don’t know that.
He tries not to let it get to his head but he can’t deny there’s a rush that comes with all of this. There’s a gun resting heavy in his pocket that gives him comfort. Right now, he is the enemy in an area crawling of criminals and drunkards, yet none of them have a clue.
In fact, they believe he is one of them. Essentially, he is.
This isn’t the time to be officer Jonas Wagner of the homicide department. That’s not his part to play anymore.
It’s time to be someone else entirely.
This is going nowhere.
Jonas knew this would take a while. It wasn’t going to plop down on his lap by a stroke of luck, but even he had limits. He can feel his patience wearing thin as minutes turn to hours.
The party is hectic as ever. In fact, now in the later hours of one in the morning, it’s as wild as ever. More people have showed up, and he can smell the intense aroma of weed plaguing the room, amongst other sweaty, gross, beer like smells. He spots a clump of money and clothes sprawled on the floor and grimaced in distaste.
So this is the party life.
He’s been doing his best to blend in. Skittering around here and there, always getting beers from the bar and then handing it off on someone or scooting them as far away from him as possible. He wonders if anyone can tell how nervous he is.
There are some people he talks to here and there, none of them being very useful.
One woman attempts to grab his face, squishing his cheeks together and calling him “adorable” but he quickly scurries away before she could get her beer scented breath any closer. He tries to hear any codes being thrown around but so far he’s had no luck. It’s becoming infuriating and he wants to call it quits.
This is stupid.
What’s he gonna do if he even finds a gang member?
Ask to be part of the gang? Get on his knees and beg? Ha! As if he would stoop so low!
… Then again.
Jonas heaves another big dramatic sigh while settling back down at the bar and asking for another beer. His palm rests against his cheek and battles with his internal thoughts. He’s made it this far hasn’t he?
The face of Sidney flashes to his head and it pains him. What if he never finds her murderer? Could he really live life normally after that happened? No, he knows he’ll never be the same. He’s not ready to go back to their empty apartment with no one to greet him at the door. He’s not thinking about cleaning out her room or taking down all the picture frames of them together on the walls. He’s not ready for that. Will he ever be ready for that?
Will he feel miserable like this forever?
Is he short of breath or is that the sticky atmosphere of the bar? Was the world starting to drown? He can’t breathe. He tugs at the collar of his shirt, unbuttoning the top ones but nothing’s working. Stale, hot, and heavy, what’s happening?
Where is he? Is he dying? Will he be with Sidney if he does?
What’s-
“Are you here for the pink tequila?”
Jonas jumps a bit, a tiny yelp escaping his mouth as he whips around quickly, eyes flashing up to meet the much larger man standing above him. He’s horrifying.
Well... There’s a certain calmness to his presence that isn’t so bad but that doesn’t mean anything. He’s broad, huge, and has paint on his face meant to make him look like a clown of some sorts. He’s downright chilling and Jonas gapes at him, not saying anything for a few moments.
“Sorry if I scared ya!” The hard expression melts away to a more jolly one, “I thought I saw you looking for it? Unless you aren’t...”
“F-for? For what? Sorry I didn’t… Hear you the first time.” Jonas says tentatively. There was no doubt that this man was dangerous, with a fist that could take his head in his hands and crush it there was no way he couldn’t be… But… He had to know something right?
This man clears his throat, looking a bit sheepish, “Are you… Here for the pink tequila?”
Jonas squints at him, the question is just as mind boggling when he asked it the first time. Then he remembers.
‘Trust me you’ll know’
This was a code!
This was totally a code!
Jonas has no time to register before he’s enthusiastically nodding, “Yeah! Yeah, I am absolutely here for that, uh, pink tequila!”
A hearty laugh spills out of the much larger man, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he nods, “I knew it! I’m glad I spotted you, I’m guessing you’re a new one and didn’t know who to ask?”
Jonas has no idea what that means but he nods anyways, hoping to play this off.
“Well, I’m Javier, I’m here to escort you!” He says, and gestures his arms towards the back. That’s his cue to move.
Jonas hops off his stool, Javier taking the lead to start walking towards the back of the bar which is… Strange. Not what he was expecting. Jonas tries to peek at his face and he has this… Look that he doesn’t understand. There’s a gleam in his eyes that’s fond but also way too sly to be innocent. What… exactly did he say yes too?
“Through here,” Javier instructs as they go through deeper parts of the bar, all of it spreading out into corridors. Jonas stares at the construction, mouth falling open at the design.
It’s secret. Obviously meant to hide people and keep them away from a more public view. It’s impressive.
They stop in front of a door, he assumes they’re all doorways to rooms. Maybe even to more hallways, who knows?
Javier knocks- well, pounds on the door and Jonas flinches when he hears a crash and boom coming from the inside. Javier seems to see his concern and grins wider, “don’t worry. He’s clumsy.”
That would be a lot more comforting if he knew what that meant.
There’s heavy footsteps approaching from behind the door and Jonas instinctively swallows in apprehension.
The moment of silence is tense before the door abruptly swings open powerfully. It’s strong enough for the hinges to creak, threatening to rip off, and the accompanied sound of it banging hard against the wall has Jonas hiking up his shoulders in fear.
He sees a strong naked chest- which leads to his next reaction. He doesn’t dare look past this guy’s bare torso, and he fights the urge to cover his own eyes because, what in the heck is wrong with this guy?!
Why is he completely naked?!
This… Creep of a man stands unfairly tall, not bothering to look at Jonas but decided to stare straight ahead, his scary gaze locked onto Javier. Jonas almost feels bad that he has to face this naked guy’s wrath in the first place! Again! Why is he naked?! This is a public space! What the heck did he say yes to?!
“The third one is here,” Javier says simply. What the heck does that mean?!
The creep’s lips turn into a snarl, his hand clenching and holy crap, his hands are huge and covered in bruises. They could kill Jonas in one punch.
“What the fuck? I didn’t fucking order a third one, what kind of-” he finally looks down at Jonas and it’s one of the most terrifying experiences in his life. He makes a soft fearful noise as the man locks eyes with him. Who the hell is he?!
But then something weird happens.
This creep’s anger drops until there’s nothing left but a pair of wide eyes staring down at Jonas.
He’s gaping.
It makes Jonas uncomfortable, why does he feel more exposed when this creep is naked?! And why exactly is he naked?!
“Uhh…” the creep says dumbly before shaking his head, “You know what… I definitely did order a third one. Let him in.” The sly grin that came afterwards was anything but comforting, it sent shivers down Jonas’s spine.
The creep walked deeper into the room and Jonas stood frozen at the doorway. Javier snorts and shoves him forward, “Have fun with Mitch, little dude,” he says and promptly leaves Jonas stumbling and trying to regain his balance. Mitch? This creep’s name is Mitch? Ugh, what an appropriate name, he supposes.
Jesus, what did he get himself into? He looks up to see Mitch, still naked, shuffling around in a drawer next to a bed that looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in years. It’s ripping at the seams with suspicious stains on it.
The smell hits him next and Jonas resists the urge to gag.
It’s sickeningly hot which makes his stomach churn uncomfortably. The worst part about it is that it stinks of sweat and other untrustworthy aromas. Jonas nearly shrieks at the sight of roaches skittering away into the cracks in the walls.
This guy is freaking crazy!
He hasn’t moved from the entrance, just watching in disbelief as Mitch takes out a bag of weed and a pipe, going about doing drugs as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Eventually he notices Jonas and raises an eyebrow at him, “you gonna stand there all fuckin’ day or…?”
Right. He closes the door behind him hesitantly.
“Lock the door, will ya?” Mitch adds unnecessarily and it does nothing to calm his nerves.
He fiddles with the doorknob, his fingers are shaking and he hadn’t even noticed. Why is it that locking the door is now the biggest challenge in the world? His hands are sweaty and his head is screaming not to do this. He could run out right now and never look back again. Oh god, what has he done?
How does this stupid lock work?!
“You’re doin’ it wrong,” he feels the hot breath behind his neck and he shouts, nearly bolting head first into the door. He refuses to press back because this guy! Is still naked! That’s disgusting!
Mitch laughs at him, thinking it’s the most hysterical thing he’s ever seen! What a dirtbag!
He takes the liberty of locking the door for Jonas, oh no, why does the door need to be locked anyways?!
What did he agree to?! Why is this guy not putting on any clothes, is he gonna kill him while his genitals are just!! Hanging out!! Oh christ, what the hell does pink tequila mean?! Was it open invitation to get killed by a creep?!
Thankfully, Mitch moves away and instead plops down on the gross rickety looking bed. He leans over to grab a bottle from underneath and holds it up, waving it like a dog treat, “You want any of this?”
He absolutely does not want anything of this!
Jonas sighs shakily, this is not the time to freak out. This guy is grinning like a damn cheshire cat, he can at least attempt to pull himself together. Play it cool, Jonas. Just tell him… No.
“I don’t really do the alcohols much.”
For God’s sake.
The laugh that erupts from Mitch is horrifying. It sounds like a dying hyena and Jonas doesn’t find this funny at all but goes along with it, awkwardly laughing and wondering if it really is too late to get the heck out of here.
“Jesus, you’re a riot,” he says, a smug look on his face as he looks at Jonas up and down, “So practically a virgin, huh?”
Is that code for some kind of torture?! If he finds out Jonas is a virgin is he gonna kill him for being a loser? Is that it?
He chooses not to answer but to continue laughing alongside him. He’s laughing with a naked man who is getting high and wants to get him drunk, this is the worst day of his life.
“Come on, you don’t wanna get in on this action?” he says, waving the bottle to his face.
Jonas smiles, but he’s sure it looks more like a grimace as he shakes his head, “I really.. Don’t drink much.”
He’s expecting this guy to keep pushing it but he shrugs, “Eh, hope you’re okay with me getting fucking plastered in that case!”
‘Wow, he’s gonna kill me while he’s drunk, this is going to hurt so bad,’ Jonas thinks to himself and is sending his last prayers in his head, knowing that he’s not gonna get out of this without some kind of divine intervention. He hasn’t responded, too busy thinking while Mitch awkwardly waits for a response that’s never coming.
“Well, I’m gonna take your silence as a ‘oh Mitch, that’s not okay with me at all,’ right?” He says, raising his voice higher when he pretends to be Jonas. Jonas scrunches up his nose in offense at his impersonation of himself, he doesn’t actually sound like that, does he?
“Uh…” What does he say to that?! “Oh gee, well I never met you before mister but I’m kind of fearing for my life right now and I’d rather you be sober while you kill me!” As if!
Mitch is squinting at him, putting the bottle down and tilts his head to one side, “you don’t strike me as the kind to do this sorta thing.”
What thing?
“So what brings you here? Come on sit, the beds not gonna eat you.”
Well it all started with my sister dying, how about you sir? Any reason why you’re naked in a room that’s in a hidden corridor of a bar?!
He sits down slowly, making sure to keep Mitch at an arm's length.
“I uh… I needed a drink.”
“Oh? So you do want some?”
He shakes his head, “I was uh… Thinking of something lighter.”
Mitch laughs at him for the millionth time in the last five minutes that they’ve met, “Well… I can think of something much lighter.”
What does that mean.
“What does that mean.” He’s lost.
“Oh, I think you know exactly what that means,” his voice is too suggestive for the situation and he has yet to figure out what the heck that means!
Are you there God? It’s me, Jonas.
Do you remember me? Please? I don’t really want to die today? Please?
“Haha, yeah.” He’s trying to conceal most of his distress but he’s not sure if he can do this anymore.
The “lighthearted” atmosphere seems to dissipate from Mitch’s head because he suddenly turns serious. Or maybe that’s worse? Is it worse?
He looks down at his hands, trying not to meet Mitch’s gaze.
“Hey.”
“Hm?” This is nerve wracking, is he going to kill him or what?
“We don’t have to do this is you don’t want to.”
That has Jonas looking up and jerking his head quickly to face him, not believing what he’s hearing. Is he giving him an out? The genuine turmoil of his face reads that he’s being truthful but why? What has changed? Shouldn’t guys like him be merciless and take out anything blocking their path?
He’s staring, not sure if he’s astonished or confused. Mitch takes one look at him and for a split second Jonas swears he sees anger in his eyes.
He doesn’t get a chance to say anything before Mitch continues, “If you’re here long enough they’ll still give you your cut. Just hang out here, you can take a hit or anything.” He motions towards the lonely bag of weed on top of the drawer.
“O-okay? I mean… I don’t need uh, the…” Jonas trails off. This is already a trainwreck, he doesn’t need to dig himself into a deeper hole.
For all he knows this guy is still going to end up killing him one way or another. No one is ever going to know what happened to Jonas Wagner, he’ll become an unsolved mystery with his sister. Hey, in the afterlife he could tell Sidney that he tried his best but didn’t succeed. We all make mistakes, it happens to the best of us!
Although, is getting trapped in a room with a naked murderer an incident that happens to the best of people?
Well, who really knows?
He hears Mitch curse, shuffling around and notices that he’s trying to tug on a pair of pants. Finally! That makes this situation suck, like, one percent less!
Mitch flops down on the mattress, sprawling out a bit that Jonas has to scooch over to the edge of the bed so he can keep a distance away from him.
“You can join me in laying down but I won’t do anything too weird,” he opens the bottle of hard liquor, taking a small swig of it and Jonas looks down to the floor to try to disassociate from this reality.
So the naked man is now wearing pants, albeit not a shirt but whatever, you can’t have everything. The chances of him being killed has wavered slightly, he thinks. One thing for sure, this is the weirdest thirty minutes of his life and he’s wondering when this nightmare will come to an end, if it even does come to an end.
He’s completely blowing this. Why should he even bother after tonight? He’ll just come crawling back to the police station like a lost puppy by next week and accept the fact that Narcotics really is an unreachable goal.
“Hey.”
Jonas jerks away from the sudden closeness between him and Mitch. He didn’t hear him sit so close to him, gosh their thighs were touching and everything. Thank God he put pants on...
“Fuck, you’re jumpy.” He said, sounding amused that he could make Jonas into such a squirming mess. “You know, don’t like, get weirded out but, you’re probably the prettiest one I’ve ever seen.”
Jonas gives him a long hard stare, and Mitch is scratching the back of his head, looking like he just said something stupid. “Wait shit- I mean, don’t take that the wrong way? It’s just- shit- I’ve seen a lot of- wait-”
“What?” he asks.
“You’re- fuck- you’re pretty?” It’s more of a question than a statement but it has Jonas feeling flustered. What the heck is that supposed to mean?
“I don’t- I don’t understand?”
“Like, shit-” Mitch takes this moment to go into a coughing fit, his face probably redder than the blood staining his hands, “I’m serious! You’re uh, pr- yeah- and uh… I’m gonna be sad to see you go.” He gains some confidence back in the last sentence but it has Jonas completely out of it.
Wait a minute.
Sad to see him go?
Holy christ he’s going to freaking die. This is it, this is where it all comes to an end, he’s going to die by the hands of a shirtless maniac!
“Are you freaked out? You’re freaked out, aren’t you,” there’s a flurry of emotions Mitch is conveying and Jonas has no idea what to do.
“I-I’m not? I’m… Surprised,” he says, cringing a bit at his answer. That’s one way to put it…
“Surprised? What, ya mean no other fucker has given you a compliment?”
Sidney has.
He glances away, choosing not to answer. He hears a soft “holy shit, really?” as if it were some shocking thing to here.
One second Jonas is staring hard at the floor, hoping that this really is some sort of fever dream and the next, a large hand is engulfing the right side of his cheek, making him look up at the eyes of his?? Killer? Torturer? Shirtless guy?
“I’m serious, how have I not met you before?” He asks, voice an octave lower and it has Jonas’s palms sweating profusely, not knowing whether to look away or not.
Is this how he gets his neck snapped? He’s gonna freaking kill him right now.
Before he gets a chance to say anything there’s a large sudden clang coming from down the hall that has them both facing the door.
The doorknob jiggles a few times before going still.
They glance at each other, waiting for something to happen. That’s when the door bursts open, the hinges bursting open and a huge dent in the wall was left where the knob hit. A woman, who was short in stature with an impressive shade of green hair, stood, dangerously heaving at the doorway.
“MUELLER. WE GOTTA GO.”
She shouted at top volume, looking absolutely rabid.
“Oh fuck, what the fuck happened?!” Mitch stood up quickly, scrambling to find more of his clothes and this woman shakes her head, bouncing up and down impatiently.
“There’s no fucking time!! Mueller, let’s go we’re burnin’ daylight!” she agonizes and that’s when Jonas has a huge revelation.
Mueller?
Mitch fucking Mueller?!
He gasps, nearly falling off the bed. No fucking way, there is no way this is the Mueller. Leader of the Narcotics?! He was in a room with a notorious murderer after all?!
His hand goes to his back pocket right away to grab his gun and to take Mueller down once and for all, except...
The gun isn’t there.
What the hell?! Where did he put it? Did Mueller swipe him when he wasn’t looking. No, he swears he had it all night. He’s looking frantically around the bed but it is nowhere in sight. What did he do?
Mitch is now dressed, looking impressive in his tailored suit but he’s obviously pissed off. “Hey!” Jonas startles and looks up at him with wide eyes. Oh my god, he’s seen ruthless Narcotics leader naked. What was he going to do with this information?!
He steps over, tilting Jonas’s head upwards and it has his mouth going dry.
“Tell your pimp to tip you extra. If he gives you hell, tell him to talk to Mueller about it.” He taps his finger against the underneath of Jonas’s chin before moving away. The girl at the door screams at him and grabs him by the arm before running away.
Jonas hears Mitch shout “Javier, get him!” and then the rushing footsteps fade away.
He stares, his mouth is wide open and he probably looks like a fish out of water. His knees threaten to give out under him.
A guy being naked when answering the door. “Ordered a third one?” The code word being pink tequila out of all things. Prettiest one he’s ever seen.
Pimp.
Mitch Mueller, the most dangerous man alive, the leader of the most feared gang alive, has killed people out of cold blood, thought he, Jonas Wagner, was a fucking prostitute.
That’s why it’s called pink tequila and he thought I was a prostitute and that was Mitch Mueller. He had his. Thing out. For him. To touch???
“Hey! Mitch got me, you’re still here?! Come on we have to go!” Javier shouts while running through the door, lifting up Jonas like he weighs absolutely nothing and hauling him out the door. He regains back his senses and pulls himself out of Javier’s grasp and decides to run instead of being carried.
“Huh!” Javier said, clearly impressed, “Surprised you can still walk!
Oh my god he thinks I- Mitch and I- he thinks we DID it! Jonas screams internally, running outside the bar through the back and distantly he hears police sirens. It sounds like home.
“You need to go find your friends! Take care of yourself!” And then Javier is running off, leaving Jonas alone as he’s still trying to understand what just happened. And did it really happen or is he hallucinating?
He keeps running.
Away from the bar, away from weird secret rooms at the back of the bar, and away from Mitch freaking Mueller. Who again, thought he was some kind of prostitute.
He runs all the way home. Halfway he has to start walking since he’s not used to exuberant amounts of exercise and the running had him hunched over the street, holding back the burning need to throw up. He doesn’t, thankfully, but the itch is strong and it’s pooling at the back of his throat, even when he comes home to an empty home.
In fact, it gets more intense. He tries to push it away, sitting down on the couch and staring down at all the files, unmoving.
Tonight was a catastrophe.
He didn’t die, though. He tries to remind himself that it’s something . Plans have changed, and that’s okay. He opens the cap of his pen with his teeth, scribbling down his progress like a wild man on a mission.
The pride that was accumulating before is now being crushed down spectacularly. He can let it dissolve if it was for Sidney. Sometimes things to go the way you planned out, he was going to beg for a position in the gang and now he’s a prostitute. That’s.... Fine. At least it wasn’t a waste, that’s for sure.
In fact, this is for the best. He has more insight than any officer in this entire town has.
He has names, he has the codes, and more importantly, he knows how Mitch Mueller looks like. Even better, from what he could gather, Mueller has taken an… Interest in him, That part makes his skin crawl but it’s all part of arrangement. He’s on his good side, and though it’s more… Sexual than he had hoped, it’s still isn’t bad.
He circles the code “pink tequila” knowing very well what he has to do. If that’s what it takes to bring him to Mitch again then he’ll use it as much as he can at every speakeasy he goes to. He needs a story, something to make him believable.
Pimp.
That’s right.
A problem can commence. His… imaginary keeper has tossed him away because he had asked for more money. He can play the damsel in distress card, crawling to every speakeasy searching for the Mueller and beg to give him a job in Narcotics. It’s not perfect, it has several holes and if all goes wrong, his life could be at stake.
He’s willing to try.
It’s humiliating and revolting to think about stooping to this level but this is for Sidney. If he could continue to get on Mitch’s good side then he can find out all the information he needs to know. He’ll find out how and why he chose to kill Sidney, he’ll gather the evidence and slam it down on Dean’s desk.
He’ll become Sellwood’s hero, but above everything else, he’ll have done Sidney justice.
This will work.
It has to.
Nothing happens.
Not instantly.
He asks the ex-officer again for more speakeasy locations. She hands them all over like she trusts Jonas, he doesn’t know why but she just calls him a good kid who couldn’t do anything wrong. He can’t help but think that’s a bit condescending but when she said it there was no malice in her tone.
And anyways, he greatly appreciated her help.
The first few he goes to winds him up with no further information. He tries to spot some familiar faces, hoping to run into Javier, maybe even that woman with green hair.
They’re never there.
Another trouble has surfaced that has to do with his health deteriorating as the days go by. It starts off with hunger pains, then comes the bar nights where he’s trying his best not to fall asleep on his stool and how at night he’s more fidgety than ever. It’s harder to sleep when the presence that was there all his life is no longer in the other room. He tries to shove it away and keep his head where the objective is.
He does a better job at approaching others, that way he won’t be so vulnerable and alone the entire night. He’s less of an outsider than he is a part of the world of drunkenness and bubbly on goers.
On one night he is the one being approached by a man in an expensive looking suit.
It lasts for only two minutes. He inquires about Jonas and asks him if he’s a newcomer. He asks for his profession but Jonas dodges the question with ease. The man gets bored, a passive look on his face before walking away and making some sort of call on a strange looking device. He’s no help to him.
It’s been another week.
Today is Friday. He used to like them but now it’s a day full of regret and memories he would rather wipe away.
It’s also the day where the speakeasy gets more business than usual. It’s a loud buzz of people chattering away, the music is set to a higher volume and if he listens hard enough, it could clear his head into numbness.
He tries to drink the beer that’s set out in front of him but it tastes like dry urine sliding down his tongue. He really doesn’t want to be here. The thought of his cleanly made bed set out with warm blankets is becoming more and more tantalizing. When was the last time he slept more than three hours at night?
Another swig of beer goes down into his hungry stomach. He doesn’t bother talking to anyone, from here he could see that everyone is too busy having fun.
Frustration is seeping into his pores and the incessant nagging in the back of his head telling him to give up grows louder every minute. Besides, from here he can tell that there is no sign of Javier or that woman anywhere.
The painful want to see Mitch again is fervent as ever and it only grows in intensity. He must talk to him again. He needs to get the evidence to completely ruin his life for good.
“You.”
The hand on his shoulder startles him, and he goes to smack the hand away but stops when he sees an unfamiliar face.
He has blonde hair tied back in a really sloppy ponytail, he can’t see his eyes but he does see the deep bitter scowl on his face. Without even needing to see his stare, Jonas can tell that he’s looking at him with the utmost disapproval.
“Ugh, he would.” He said, being super vague and sitting right next to him.
“W-what? Who are you?” he asks, pulling his own beer closer. He may not have a weapon on him but he won’t hesitate to crack this bottle over his head.
“Boss saw you out here,” he grumbles, he sounds awfully southern. What’s he doing in this part of- wait? Boss?
Jonas looks at him even more perplexed and he groans in response. He slams his hand down, “Ya here for the pink tequila or what?!” The shouting would have scared him but all Jonas can feel is glee taking over.
“Y-yes! Yes I am!” He smiles, feeling the best he has in days. The guy frowns harder, making a “tch” noise and getting up. He motions Jonas to follow him and he is happy to oblige.
It’s another trip to the back, going down carefully placed doors and all Jonas can hear is his own heart in his ears. He’s really going to do this. After this, there is no turning back. They stop in front of another door, the guy banging on it without a care.
Similar to before, the door slams open.
Jonas prepares himself just in case he’s naked again but, thank goodness, he’s not. In fact, Mitch looks more well put together and dapper than ever.
“Ha, it’s really you.” His relaxed grin takes over but turns cold when glancing over at the blonde. “Get the fuck outta here, Cliff.”
The guy, Cliff, nods once before pushing Jonas on the shoulder and stalking off.
Jonas walks in, more confident than before and Mitch plops down on the bed at the center. It looks cleaner than the one at the other bar but not much better. Still, Jonas sits next to him and tries to mind the stains.
“I heard you’ve been looking for me?” Mitch asks, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter casually. He goes to hand one over but Jonas rejects it.
“Ah, yes. I have, how did you know?” The thought of someone watching him isn’t pleasant.
“A few of my guys have noticed you around here and there. Thought you were a fuckin’ assassin but I knew you weren’t.” He laughs, and Jonas tries not to point out how he pronounced “assassin” wrong.
“Yeah I-I’ve been looking for you,” he said, trying to really get into his character. He’s supposed to be a feeble, dog loyal mess. It’s shameful but it’s a part he knows how to play excellently.
Mitch notices the change of demeanor and blows out a puff of smoke, “Did your pimp do something?” Hell, he sounds murderous. “Did he not pay you? I swear, if you need me to break his fucking face in for you I’ll fucking do it, I won’t fucking-”
“No! No that’s fine!” he says quickly, “I don’t wanna- I mean- I just… I wanted to see you again.”
A comedically flustered look flashes across Mitch’s face before it reverts to being smug, much more like his character, “Oh? So you wanna… try again?”
Crap, no.
He’s not afraid to shake his head. He’s aware how deep he can get caught in this lie but… No one has to know. Mitch will never know unless he gets too sloppy so he won’t. He’ll make dang sure of it.
“No I don’t I.... I escaped him, my- yeah.” He looks down embarrassed, purposefully making himself sound sadder than he really is.
“Woah, holy fuck. And you’re okay?” Mitch grabs his arm, tugging him so that he’s facing him. His eyes are roaming all over Jonas, trying to see any sign of hurt.
Jonas shrugs, “It’s okay. I wanted to see you again because… because…” He tries to think of something desperate to say and goes with the first thing that comes to mind.
“Because no one’s ever… Stopped like you.”
Jesus this isn’t good.
The hurt look Mitch has is almost too agonizing to look at it.
“Christ, yeah. I’m not about that shit. That kind of stuff is fucked up, you shouldn’t force yourself.” He says, and Jonas nods slowly.
He’s amazed that Mitch of all people is above the idea of rape. He thought people like him would be completely disgusting in all departments. It almost seems… Human. Ugh, what’s he going to do with this new information?
A surge of guilt starts bubbling in his stomach but he stops it. He stops because why should he? He reminds himself exactly why he’s here. This is the mob boss that has killed so many innocent people. This is the man who ruined countless lives. This is the man who is very well responsible for the death of his twin sister.
So what if he’s lying through the skin of his teeth?
This man deserves it. Jonas will continue to play this part until he get’s what he wants. The plan is as such, joining the gang and getting the evidence.
“I guess… I should leave. Sorry for bothering you, I just wanted to say thank you. It gave me the confidence to leave my- y’know.” Jonas stands up, a sad smile on his face. He’s ready to turn around and never return, it’s his very last chance.
“Wait.”
The well timed hand grabs at his wrist and Jonas knows what’s coming next.
“Do you… Have anywhere to go?”
Hook line and sinker.
“Not really… I’m gonna try and find a job to get better. Wait tables or shine people’s shoes or something.” He adds a melancholy sigh for effect and it does the trick.
“Dude- fuck no. You don’t deserve that,” he grimaces, grabbing Jonas’s shoulders and pulling and he sees the gears turning in his head. “Fuck, there can be a place for you here, in Narcotics. You a fighter?”
It freaking worked.
Jonas has popped open a bottle of sparkling champagne in his head and he’s a split second away from jumping in glee. It worked, it actually worked! He took the bait! Now all he has to do is… Act his way through.
He gives a shocked gasp, shaking his head and looking up at Mitch with sparkling eyes, “Oh, no! No, you don’t have to! I’m not a fighter or do anything- I wouldn’t be any good to you-”
Mitch shushes him, their faces are uncomfortably close and Jonas tries not to gag. The hand on his shoulder slides up to caress his cheek, “It’s okay. I wanna do this for you. Are you good at running?”
He almost snorts at that, “No, god, no. I’m the worst runner in the world.” He laughs a bit and Mitch lets out a low chuckle as well, it’s a horrible sound.
“Shit how about… File sorting? Gotta shit ton of idiots that don’t know how to do that. Do you know how?”
Jonas smiles easily, feeling a bit mighty in this moment. Years and years of collecting files and helping Sidney assort her work papers, as well as knowing how to sort files ever since the age of seven? Please.
“I can definitely do that.”
“Oh Jesus Christ!” They both break apart at the intrusion. Cliff is standing at the entrance looking scandalized. Jonas didn’t even hear him come in, he was too focussed on Mitch.
“Hey boss! Wanna stop flirting with the fat prostitute? We’ve gotta head back to the base!” He drawls. Jonas frowns at that, not liking that personal jab to him and it looks like Mitch didn’t like it either.
Mitch glowers at Cliff, one fist clenched at his side as he steps forward, “what the fuck did you say you hillbilly fuck?”
The once confident man suddenly shrivels in on himself, “Uhh uh, we uh, gotta go? Now?”
Mitch comes closer and Cliff has to hunch backwards at the distance, “I fucking own you. You better watch your fucking mouth.”
The change is vastly different. The entire time they were together Mitch seemed very… Easy going. It was almost hard to believe this guy was the leader of Narcotics but now… Not anymore. The absolute disdain in his voice has shivers going down his spine.
Cliff nods, and Mitch shoves him so hard that he smacks his body against the wall behind him. “Get the fuck out of here. I’ll be out in a second, and hey. You better respect our new rookie, or else.”
The news hits Cliff fast, and his mouth is open like he can’t believe it. “What? Seriously?!”
Mitch’s arm shoots out, grabbing a fistful of Cliff’s shirt before slamming him down into the floor. Jonas jumps at the thudding sound and winces when Cliff groans in pain. “Get the fuck out if you know what’s good for you!”
Mitch kicks the side of his torso and it has Cliff crawling to get up, stumbling down the hall before he gets on his feet to run away.
Jonas didn’t know his breathing had picked up until Mitch looks over at him and grins bigger. He’s a monster.
“We’re heading back to the base. We can start there if ya want.” He grabs a hat that was sitting on the nightstand and puts it over his head, the shadow hiding the top part of his face. Jonas goes over to him and Mitch easily wraps his arm around his shoulders.
They walk out together, although, Mitch is doing more of the leading and Jonas is just sweating under his arm, completely terrified of the man touching him.
While they’re walking Mitch looks down at him, “Never got a name, spots.”
Oh yeah.
Jonas exhales shakily, “It’s… Jonah.”
“Well, Joey it is then.”
His life ends here.