>>36666830 “Got it Govn'a!” Danny says with a salute and a bright grin. I shake my head and smile at him to hide my unease. Something about this really doesn't add up. I look at my messenger bag and after a few moments, carefully take the jewelery, which I'm pretty sure aren't the actual elements of harmony, I mean, come on, it's a kid's TV show, out of the bag, and put the case in the living room with Danny before walking to my room and pulling the Thompson out from under my pillows, putting it in the bag along with a drum magazine and my extra magazines for the browning.
I mean, nothing's wrong, but still, that nightmare really has me on edge. Nothing is gonna happen, I'm worrying over nothing, I'm just being paranoid over nothing... right?
In case you couldn't guess, that was me lying to myself, trying to convince myself that everything was ok, that Danny was fine, that Brick just wanted me to get something to drink with him, and that the boss needed me to get something else. But too many things were just stacking up. Danny's nightmares, my own nightmare, Danny's new appendages, Brick's sudden phone call while all of this was happening.
I didn't like it. All of this started with that meeting with Q... getting the jewelry. I wish I could get some bloody answers, but at the moment, it's all I can do to just keep my head on straight as I get on my bike and start it up.
-May 3rd, 2020. 0730 Hrs-
Traffic was bloody and nasty, as you'd expect from morning traffic rush in a big city. Nothing that I couldn't make my way though with careful weaving, but all the traffic was just making me more paranoid. I was glancing around, looking for anything that stood out, men in unusual suits, someone holding something in an unusual way, unmarked vehicles, just anything... not right.
Eventually, that little cafe on the corner, the Windpower cafe, came into sight. I let out a deep breath, more of a hard sigh, of relief as I pulled up to a parking spot for motorcycles and set down the kickstand, turning my bike off as I dismounted, idly checking my browning and my bag to make sure nothing shifted out of place during the ride, and then checked my watch, looked away, and checked it again. Zero-seven-thirty-three, not bad in the traffic, and still awake.
I carefully picked my way inside, weaving past two hipsters looking for their fancy high class coffee that wasn't Starbucks, and looked around. The interior of the cafe was what you'd expect from a small, family run cafe. All wood, warmly lit for comfort, a small fireplace sitting in the corner, lots of comfortable couches and big, thick wooden tables. Frankly, they made for better cover, which was why they were there.