Parallel Man 6
By. Richard Rester
Copyright March 20, 2015
Kay was told once that the mind could produce great things when allowed to do it’s job. Most people taxed their brains with the mundane distractions and behaviours that produced nothing. They worked average jobs for average pay and repeated the same basic pattern for days, months or years. But that was not how Kay operated. Unlike the average person when Kay had downtime she studied to be a better killer. The world in which she grew up demanded a regular willingness to allow her inner darkness out to play. In her wanderings, in the strange world in which she now existed, she started to see how her skillset was more of a crude bludgeon. It was something as completely alien to her as New York would be to a Saan bushman… or honesty to a salesman, lawyer or politician. She knew she had to start thinking in completely different terms. Kay realized that it was possible she would never be able to leave this world, having killed the only person who could have helped with that. Therefore she needed to study how it worked in order to survive.
She knew, just like in her own world, that a dead body would be quickly found, especially in the middle of a park where children play. She also knew that Dagle was not her Dagle, and when the police started investigating he would reveal what she said to him about killing Anders. She could not let that information get out and make her time there, however temporary or permanent, very difficult.
With that concern in mind Kay made her way in the direction of downtown Feesburg, to a quaint little pub called Fiasco’s. She had hoped the Dagle of this world also frequented the place and that she would catch up to him there. Her plan was to follow him to a secluded place where she would snap his neck, and steal his wallet to make it look good. He had to die before he talked to anyone else, and this was her only lead. This was loose-ends 101. If she acted smart and fast the problem could be contained and everything would blow over.
Except for some significant differences, like an added free tram service and a number of newer buildings, the topology of the inner city hadn’t changed much from her world to this one. Kay was able to find Fiasco’s exactly where she expected. Even the Market plaza was the same, just not as elaborate as in this world.
The assassin stood on the opposite end of the market plaza from Fiasco’s, her eyes scanned and logged the details of every shop and obstacle on the way over.
The store to her left had a 4 four door, angled, corner entrance. Dollar Man was boldly presented on the, large, yellow sign above it. A quick look through the glass revealed they sold a variety of cheap items never intended to do anything but make some sleazebag a ton of money; probably off of the backs of a desperate class of people in some third-world country on the other side of the planet.
The next shop down, Hemporary Solutions, was obviously everything you could possibly make out of hemp, including the name. They currently had a sale on a selection of hoodies that were on display just outside. She needed something to conceal herself and there appeared to be one her size easily grabbable. Unfortunately, every item had theft prevention tags on their sleeves. She couldn’t determine whether they were proximity alert, ink blot, or tracker. Regardless, the complications that would arise from such a theft removed them as an option.
The plaza stretched three blocks until crossed by third street. Office and professional skyrises lined both sides, with shops on the ground floor. Outside mezzanine levels, that covered nearly twenty-five percent of the downtown core, connected groups of buildings. At the right time of day one could disappear into the pedestrian system.
Kay’s eyes looked over to the right, to Fiasco’s at the far end. It was a little bigger than her’s, having appeared to have expanded into the Dale E. News, a small, sliver of a space left behind by a bankrupt news and magazine store; that, in her world, was still there and fencing anything from diamonds to guns, and all manner of interesting things.
Continuing her gaze to the right she noted the entrance to the Martindale Galeria, an indoor mall of dimensions she could not immediately ascertain, but assumed was sizeable. People entered and exited the two banks of standard rotating doors. The name and logo – a skewed, red MG – took up several storey’s worth of vertical space, the face of which was either one way glass or mirrored surfaces of a kind.
To the right the outdoor cafe, the First Cup, was across the plaza from her. A teenage girl carefully draped her purple hoodie over the back of the chair that she intended to settle into. The girl let the strap of the backpack slide down her arm, easing the bag to the floor beside the chair.
Peripherally, Kay noticed a mall door open and Dagle stepped out, talking on a phone. It was so sudden that she had no chance to duck for cover. Had it not been for the fact that Dagle was in a rush he would have noticed her. Instead he argued into the phone something she could not hear over downtown. Dagle briskly walked up to the entrance to Fiasco’s, stopped to express some kind of major displeasure, and angrily thumbed a hang-up. The man glanced at the doors momentarily then rushed off toward a large set of stairs to the mezzanine.
Shit! He was supposed go inside Fasco’s! Time to get to work. Kay stepped into a swift but chill walk toward the teenage girl, sitting at the table. As Kay approached, the teen shifted her butt slightly in her chair and leaned over to grab her backpack. By then the assassin was right behind her and smoothly snatched the hoodie off of the back of the chair. In one motion Kay spun the hoodie around and was wearing it while the teen remained blissfully unaware.
Kay snapped the hood over her head, zipped up the garment and gave chase to Dagle. She kept her distance, using sandwich boards, people and obstacles of all kinds to obscure herself from his notice. The man was a fast in both worlds and it took some effort to keep up and not lose him.