Phoenix

Phoenix

Gary entered his home. The stench of spoiled milk, semen, and dry vomit struck him like a punch, making him feel dizzy, although he was used to living in this filthy atmosphere.

  He had returned from work, and all he wanted to do was to throw himself on the couch and eat the burger he had brought with him, watching the shitty program playing on TV. It was a busy day at the factory, and he just wanted to relax before going to find some girl to fuck.

  He jumped on his uncovered couch, took out his casually wrapped burger, and unfoiled it when he realized he needed an ice-cold beer.

  Swearing, he got up and went to the kitchen; there he discovered that he wasn't alone all this time.

  "Good evening," the man standing in front of the refrigerator said, and shot him in the leg with the revolver he was holding.

  Gary screamed, falling down. "What the fuck?"

  The man knelt beside him and grabbed him by his face, forcing him to look at him: ocean eyes that were throwing fires, a murderous, hellish look.

  "Do you remember me, bitch?" Gary assumed he should remember him, but he didn't. That guy was a complete stranger to him.

  A strong fist landed on his nose, breaking it like a small branch. Gary screamed once again.

  "You will remember me. I'm the boy you beat up for three years in high school. The guy you broke his balls as if were fucking nuts."

  Gary spat blood. "Harrington?"

  "Damn right," the man said and threw another punch at him. "My name is Phoenix now, though. I was resurrected from my ashes, and I will burn all those who burned me all these years. Starting with you, pussy."

  "Please, Harrington. I will."

  "No."

  Another punch. And another one. Soon, Gary was looking at nothing but reddish darkness, although he heard everything.

  "Before I kill your ugly ass, Gary, I will break your balls to show you how it hurts."

  Steps, and then an explosion between his legs. He screamed, but before he could even think that he was a eunuch, the shot came. And it was a fatal one.

  Boom.

"Did you find anything?" Eddie asked his colleague who had arrived at the crime scene first.

  "Not even a head of pubic hair," Inspector Michael Guzman replied. And then he burst into laughter.

  "Do you want me to laugh like this when we find you with broken balls?" Eddie asked, looking left and right, disgusted with this dirty house.

  "Sincerely? Yup. If it is to offer something through my death, let it be a good laugh."

  Eddie nodded to the medical examiner, who was standing in a corner talking to a police officer. Mr. Albert nodded back, smiling. He was such a sweet person, a rose between rocks.

  "Did anyone talk to the neighbors?"

  "Noone's giving a fuck if Gary Smith was killed. They were expecting it to happen, sooner or later. He was addicted to drugs, was a gang member, and had a bad habit of beating all the girls he was fucking. When I mentioned the issue with... his balls, many agreed that probably some girl's relative wanted to take revenge for her rape. And if you want my opinion, he did well."

  "Maybe, but we have to find the killer. That's what we get paid for."

  "We will find him, but between us, Eddie: if he hadn't punished him now, someone else would have done it. The police would probably remain uninvolved until something really bad happened."

Randall Blake was slowly munching his pretzel and throwing crumbs to the pigeons that had gathered in front of the bench as it struggled to keep his big butt from falling onto the dirt.

  He had retired a year ago, and the walks in the park were daily. He was getting up in the morning; he was making coffee, he was taking a shit, and then was going out to get breakfast and newspaper so to sit on a bench, enjoying his life in the park, at a quiet place, afar from the elderly, the athletes and the youngsters.

  He had been on the verge of dying of a heart attack for years and wanted to enjoy some peace before kicking the bucket. So, he felt really bad when someone came and sat next to him, driving away the pigeons dining between his legs.

  "Good morning," the man said, and Randall recognized his voice but couldn't remember to whom it belonged. "What's up?"

  "Do I know you from somewhere, young man?"

  "Oh, yes, you do. Once upon a time, you used to rape me when my mother was out, and then you were telling her that you were just teaching me how to play chess."

  Randall turned and looked at the man sitting beside him. Blond hair, cheekbones, and flawless nose. No. Anna's son was brown-haired with a crooked nose, broken in a battle at school. Nevertheless…

  "You don't recognize me because I am no longer Jason. I am Phoenix, and I will burn down all those who threw my life into the flames."

  He was holding a cane of those used by the elderly to walk better. Did he have a problem walking or…

  "Jason… Listen to me. I was an asshole, a disgusting pig. Every day for many years, I regret these moments. I truly do. I hurt as much as you do, and…"

   The cane moved fast and found Randall on the left eye. He screamed, but Jason managed to shut his mouth before anyone could hear them. He then pulled a gun from his jacket and placed it on Randall's giant belly.

  "Let's see if all this fat is thick enough."

  And he shot; twice. Randall felt the worst pain he had ever felt in his life and started kicking right and left.

  Jason hit him using the handle of his gun and then pushed him down between the crumbs.

  He made Randall stand in four, draw his pants down to his knees, and then gently patted the top of his head, so as Randall once did to comfort him before their act.

  That's why he was sure of what would follow.

"People are going nuts," Michael said, drinking the coffee he had brought with him in a paper bottle.

  In the park, they watched the medical examiner, Mr. Albert, perform a quick check on the victim before the paramedics pick him up and take him to the ambulance.

  "Do we have anything this time?" Eddie asked, glancing at the dead man, thus challenging his stomach into an endurance battle.

  "We have something. A jogger told us that he saw an old man coming towards him and then lost him. But he saw a young man walking away, down the path. A young man with a similar coat, but without a cane. And I say bingo."

  "What did this guy look like?"

  "He was tall. And that's all. Tall, hooded, with leather gloves."

  "Nothing more specific?" Eddie watched Mr. Albert get up, wipe his forehead with a cloth, and then tell the two nurses to pick him up. He looked pale, although he should have seen countless corpses in his career. But Eddie wasn't surprised. The spectacle was just awful, even for a professional.

  "Maybe. The guy smelled weird."

  "Weird?"

  "Yes, like perfume mixed with lavender and oranges, or tangerines, or something like that."

Anna was watering the flowers in her garden when a man came and stood in front of her. He must have been about her son's age and at the same height, but he was blond, blue-eyed with a statuette nose. Not as handsome as her child, nonetheless.

  "Good morning. Can I help you?" she said, shading her eyes with her hand.

  The boy looked at her carefully but didn't answer, a gaze that brought up memories, and Anna felt her stomach tightening. With each passing moment, he reminded her more and more of her son, but perhaps it was her fault because, for three years now, she had been looking for him and had set a purpose in life to find him and apologize to him; to hug him for hours, and kiss him on the forehead.

   "I came to talk, Mom."

  Her jaw dropped, the watering-can slipped from her hands and fell on two of her flowers, destroying them.

  "Jason…?"

  "Yes and no, mom. I am no longer Jason, but I will speak for him."

  They entered the house and sat in the living room. Anna brought a piece of cake to Jay, but he didn't even touch it. Before she sits across and starts talking, she stood over him and bent down to kiss him. He did dodge it at first but let her rest her lips on his forehead after he thought more about it.

  "I killed Randall; killed him and tortured him, as he did to me when he was living with us."

  Anna lost the earth under her feet. "W-what?"

  Jason shook his head. "I woke up, mom. And I avenge all those who hurt me. And I came here for you because you hurt me too and maybe more than anybody else."

  "My baby. I didn't want to send you away. What I said that night was just an echo of my anger. I didn't want you to leave home. I didn't understand what was happening to you, and I wanted you to get out of bed and enter society, get a job, and become productive…"

  Jason's eyebrows furrowed, his eyes narrowed, his right hand began to tremble, and Anna saw in front of her again her boy, which had been tormented for two years by an invisible enemy.

  "I was in pain, Mom. I was fucking depressed. I wanted to die. I wasn't thinking about life, nor did I think about society. I wanted to sleep and never wake up."

  "I know, Jay. I know. But back then, I was ignorant. That's why I kicked you out. I wanted to teach you how to swim, throwing you straight into the water. I was dumb enough to think that I actually sent you to drown."  

  Jason stared at her. His lower lip was trembling, and maybe a tear was pressing on his left eyelid.

  "I haven't drowned, Mom; I changed. I became Phoenix and took life into my own hands before I die."

  "What are you talking about, Jay? You ain't going to die. You'll come to stay with me, and we'll fix everything together. It doesn't matter that you killed Randall. He deserved it."

  Jason got up and approached his mother, looked at her carefully, and then bent down to kiss her on the cheek. And he whispered something in her ear, something painful.

  "I love you, Mom, but I have to do it. I'm sorry."

  And then he shot her.

"They saw him!" Michael cried enthusiastically. "He was the same tall asshole who killed Randall. He had blond hair and wore black gloves. They said he was unknown to them, but he surely knew the victim."

   "Did he smell like the last time?"

  "And worse."  

  "I think I know who the killer is, Mikey. But we have to hurry because I have a horrible feeling about this."

  Eddie drove to Lincoln Town and stopped in front of a brothel. Without wasting time, he got out of the car, rushed in, and pushed the madam that tried to stop him. A man sitting on one of the living room sofas got up and came running to him, but was confronted by Michael's police badge, and so he stopped.

  "Monica!" Eddie shouted. Five pairs of eyes were fixed on them.

  "Monica, wherever you are, get out! It's Eddie."

  A beautiful, pale face appeared behind a half-closed door. Monica looked suspiciously at the man who was searching for her and then went out. She was wearing a beautiful pink nightgown and had her hair loose. She was as cute as a pink flower.

  "Where does Jason live?" he asked loudly.

  Monica looked at him, a little surprised and very frightened.

  "Answer me, Monica. It is for his own good, for the good of our old friend."

  "He told me not to say anything; he told me he has a big plan that would change his life."

  "He's in danger, Monica. Your first boyfriend is in trouble. Tell me where to find him, and I promise you that he will be fine."  

  "Do you promise me that you won't hurt him?"  

  "Yes."  

  So, Monica talked to him.

Eddie kicked the door of the small basement apartment and went inside. The house was surprisingly clean and tidy, though undoubtedly quiet.

  "Jason! Get out. It's Eddie. Eddie Stark."

  Silence. All that could be heard was the barking of a dog from a neighboring apartment. Of course, the smell with which he had associated his old pal was there; it sneaked into his nostrils and reached his heart.

  "Jason!" Eddie went to the kitchen. Nothing. Then he went to the bedroom.

  There was a picture frame on the bedside table next to the bed, and Eddie recognized the photo. It was one of those who have taken together. He, Monica and Jay. The Phoenix Club. Students who were as good as dead to everyone but alive and powerful to themselves. Carefree and unaware of what awaited them in the next turn.

  "Eddie, come over here," Michael said, from somewhere else in the house. When Eddie arrived at the bathroom, he saw Jason lying in the bathtub, half-submerged in red water and with a bottle of pills lying on the tiles, a little further from his relaxed hand.

  He has a big plan that would change his life…

  "Call an ambulance immediately. Maybe he can be saved."

  But he couldn't.

Albert Ivy covered the corpse after the two inspectors left and lowered the sheet to the blond young man's neck. For a while, he sat on a stool and played a game on his phone.

  He waited for ten minutes and then stood up when he saw the naked body on the bed moving.

  "Good morning, son," ​​he said, being careful not to be heard from outside. "The anesthetics did their job for good. Thank God that your breathing was unnoticeable, and I got rid of them quickly because they would have discovered us, and we'd end up both in the jail, breathing our piss and sperm."

  The young man sat up and rubbed his neck. "I thought I'd never wake up," he said. "What happened to the ambulance?"

  "I had to bribe some of the paramedics to recognize you as dead when they came to pick you up, but they won't live long enough to tell the story. Don't worry. Our secret is safe now."

  "Thanks, Dad."

  "I thank you, Jay, for killing my bastard child, my rival, and the woman who betrayed me. You did it above all for yourself, but you did me a huge favor that I will never forget. I feel free now, Jay. I feel free."

  "Give me the money we agreed on, and I will be fine. I have a girl to steal and treat her like a princess. By the way, why didn't you bring any clothes for me to dress? Will I go outside naked?"  

  Albert sucked air into his lungs and grimaced.

  "Unfortunately, I'm afraid you're not going anywhere. You must not live long enough to tell the story."

  Jason turned startled and fixed his eyes on Albert, who was standing just behind him and was holding a syringe with red liquid heme. "What the hell are you doing?"

  The syringe moved like an attacking hawk and landed on the young man's neck, nailing his central artery. Jason just couldn't move. He was still under the influence of anesthetics. He tried to hit his father before infecting him with the poison inside the syringe but failed. Albert was strong, and Jason was still half-asleep.

  When the liquid ran out, Albert pulled the needle from his son's neck, put it in a bag, and placed it in the pocket inside his jacket that was hanging in a corner.

  Jason didn't go out immediately. He looked at his father for a few moments, opened his mouth, licked his lips. He closed it again. And then he spoke. "I am Phoenix, and I will burn down everyone who hurt me. See you soon, asshole."

  And then he laid down.

  Albert put Jason in the fridge, packed everything methodically, and then left. As a free man after all these years.

  However, as he entered his house, ready to enjoy his now-won freedom, he discovered that his jacket's inside pocket was empty and that the bag with the deadly syringe was no longer there.  

  And then he realized that his recently won freedom was deceptive. It was tied with an invisible chain that was secured to this syringe. He had to run back to find it before anyone else did before they discovered him.

  Just before he ran out to take his car, he remembered Jay's last words, and he felt like screaming.

  I am Phoenix, he has said, and I will burn down everyone who hurt me. See you soon, asshole.