Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-29791712-20160826042350

The moment I stepped inside the diner, all eyes fell on me. Four men in suits sat on stools facing the open bar. Two of them craned their necks just to look at me. The other two turned their whole bodies. A shot these men a grin and nodded. I nearly shitted my pants.

Not much of a party was going on here. Waiters and waitresses trudged all over the place, carrying light trays of platters and beverages. Music played, but this late at night the volume was low, so all I heard was light instrumentation. Tenuous light bulbs lit the place up with a dim, yellow glow.

I looked over my shoulder, and spotted Carl parked right outside the diner. His fingers fumbled through my CD collection. He shifted his gaze at my direction, and we locked eyes for two seconds. No words passed between us, but he understood what I said in my mind. I turned forward, and approached the waitress leaning against a small stand.

“Hello ma’am,” I said using a gentle voice. Her eyes sparkled the moment they landed on mine. She radiated a smile that spoke of opportunities later on in the night. “Table for three, please. But I’ll like to make a special request. See, my sister’s in a wheelchair right now, and it hurts her to sit anywhere else, so can we please have enough open space for her.” I said this entire statement in one breath. I rehearsed that damn phrase for more than a hundred times, and I wanted each word to slip out of my tongue with perfect clarity.

The waitress’s smile faded. A morbid look crossed her face. “I, uh. Um- I... Does your sis- sister—I’m sorry, would your sister like to sit-”

“Take a break, Paula,” one of the men in suits said. “I’ll handle this guy.” He looked the youngest of the group. Little brown freckles populated his pale cheeks and pointy nose. He was as intimidating as a little girl.

The waitress, Paula, whispered “Okay”. She withdrew a cigarette from her blouse, and strolled outside the restaurant. A little bell rang as she opened the door. A chilling breeze fluttered in.

“If she’s gone,” I began, “than who’s gonna attend the guests that walk in?”

“Come with me,” the man said. “And I suggest you keep all questions to yourself from this point on, kid.” It baffled me that he called me “kid”, even though we looked the same age. Small purple rims curved under his broad eyeballs. He seemed exhausted and deprived of sleep.

He gestured me forward, and we walked side-by-side pass the open bar. The other three men returned back to their drinks and conversation. I tried keeping calm, but too many distractions pulled me at different angles. So I focused on my footsteps, as I tend to do whenever I feel a bit anxious.

The young man and I walked into the kitchen. Chefs and dishwashers accommodated the place, their hands occupied with knives, spoons and whatnot. They took one quick glance at us, and quickly turned away. They were cooking something delicious, probably steak or soup or some shit. My stomach growled. I was hungry as hell.

We exited the kitchen through some back doors. A flight of stairs led down a long and narrow trail. The lighting here was better compared to the open bar. The sounds of mice squeaking rumbled through the walls and ceiling.

The young man stopped in front of the stairs. I stood behind him, only inches away from his back.

“Listen here,” the man said, not turning around. “You’re going to go down these steps, and enter the garbage room. Ya gonna see a bunch of shit lying around, and it’s gonna smell like ass. Just pass through all that crap, and knock on the door at the end of the room. He should be waiting for you.”

“You’re not gonna come down with me?” I asked, a bit agitated. I hate talking to people behind their backs.

“Nah,” he said, and turned around. A smile was stitched up his thin, ruddy lips. “You got this.” He walked pass me, and left.

I shrugged, and stomped down the stairs. Again, closing my thoughts to only my footsteps, trying not to panic. ''Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap''. The more rapid the tapping came, the better I calmed myself down.

''Stay confident. Don’t be afraid to leave your comfort zone once in a while. '' Wise words from Carl.

I made it all the way down. The door up front looked old as fuck, its doorknob and hinges coated with a thick layer of rust. I turned the knob around, and creaked the door open. The old hinges hissed and snapped.

I passed through, and closed the door behind me. The loathsome stench here packed a punch against my nose. There was a unique odor, however, stacked on top of the smell of garbage and shit. I never smelled anything like it before. It was just as bad as feces, maybe even worse. Something about it made it stand out.

Whatever the case, I rushed to the end of the room. The smell started strangling me from the inside, and I wanted nothing more than to free myself from this gas chamber.

The door that faced me was the complete opposite from the one before. This door was made from stainless steel, its surface gleaming against the shining lamps above. It looked chiseled and polished into perfection. There wasn’t a doorknob, and I couldn’t push it open either. It could only open from the other side.

I lifted my fist, slid my knuckles against the door, but hesitated. I took in a deep breath, and exhaled. Like it or not, I needed to be ready.

I knocked on the door. Three simple nudges ''Tap. Tap. Tap.''

“Just a minute,” a placid voice said from the other side. I heard movement. I swallowed my saliva. Sweat dripped down my neck and into my spine, forming a pond of liquids right in between my ass-cheeks. My bowels jumped and exploded like popcorn.

I focused on my heartbeat. ''Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep. ''

Locks slipped open. Metal banged against steel. Latches freed themselves. The door swung free.

“Hello there,” a mid-age man greeted me. Wrinkles formed jagged lines across his cheeks and forehead, but they suited him well. Two moles dotted his face, one below his right eye, the other behind his ear. A full patch of brown and white hair sat on his head. He wore a black button-up shirt with dark-blue jeans and a pair of dress shoes. In total, he carried an affinity with him that made me smile without effort.

But then he grinned, and through the layers of lies he wrapped himself in, I peeked at a bit of the truth dwelling inside his soul. And like the witch who went blind for sneaking a glimpse at the future, I recoiled a bit and almost shun my face away from his. But I was face-to-face with Mr. Morph, the most powerful man in the world, so I couldn’t afford to look like a bitch.

“I’m very glad you can join me today.” His grim smile remained. “Please come in. Make yourself comfortable if you need to.” Mr. Morph stepped back. Shadows covered half of his face and body. A faint light flickered from what seemed like miles away. A void of darkness lead the path towards it.

“Thank you,” I said, and entered the unlit space. Mr. Morph shut the door behind us. At this distance, the light from faraway looked as if it was struggling to fight against the shadows surrounding it.

“Excuse me for how dark it is,” Mr. Morph said. “I know guests always have a problem with it, but I just can’t help it. Too much brightness bothers me.” We walked together towards the light.

“It’s ight, really.” Our voices echoed through the shadows. I stretched out my hands, and felt thick walls built of stone. Wherever we were, it was very narrow.

The light expanded and brighten. We made it to the other side of the room. It wasn’t too big nor small. Perfect enough. Small chandeliers helped illuminated the place, along with yellow and white candles. It was a bit darker here than the diner. Huge shelves filled with thick books occupied most of the room. A square table stood in the middle, and surrounding it were big, fluffy couches made of leather.

A steel door stood all the way across from where I was. It looked identical to the one I entered from. This one, however, contained a keyhole.

“Please, take a seat,” Mr. Morph requested. I sat on the couch facing the door. Mr. Morph sat opposite of me. No one else appeared to be here.

My palms gathered sweat.

“I don’t think we met properly,” Mr. Morph said. “You can call me James Hernandez.” He stuck out his hand.

“Brandon Enriquez.” I wiped my hands over my lap before shaking his hand.

“Ah, I’ve heard great things about you. Jerome’s brother, right? I’m very sorry for your lost. Jerome was…He was a very smart and unique individual. He played his part in this game great.”

“Well them,” I began, “I guess we should just cut to the chase then. I have what you need. Now the question is…Do you have what I need, Mr. Morph?”

He flinched. “So, you’ve done your research. How’d chu find out? Certainly Jerome didn’t know much about me and my…specialty, not at his level. And even if he did, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to spill the beans to his little brother.”

“Jerome wasn’t one of the top cats, but he still knew much. Too much, maybe. Probably that’s how he got himself killed.” I remained silent for a moment. “He never told me anything, however. Probably to protect me. I found everything out myself.”

“Hm. I think you’re also the one everyone’s been talking about lately. You’re gettin’ pretty popular, kid. Better watch out with that. Too much fame can kill ya here.” James laughed. “So what, you’re under Carl’s wing now?”

“I guess you can say that. Carl’s been a good leader. He helped me survive through…through my brother’s death.” I almost said our brother. Nobody knew Carl and I were half-brothers. We made sure to keep that little secret away from the public, in favor for our own lives.

“That sounds like Carl. Always the care-giver. People used to tell him he’s too soft for this job, but he’s probably killed and tortured more victims that any other person out there. Plus the man managed to expand his drug dealerships outside his local area. I give him my respects.”

“He’s outside right now in my car,” I said. “He carries the package I came here to deliver. All I need to know if you have what I want.”

“Well we wouldn’t be having this meeting right now if I didn’t, correct?”

“I always question every single thing,” I said. “Jerome taught me that. That’s why when Carl assigned me kill Jose Nunez—one of the most powerful drug dealers in our nation—for you, I thought to myself, ‘why does this mysterious man named Mr. Morph needs this guy dead so badly?’ So I wanted to ask you face-to-face: are all the rumors true, then?”

James’s smile broaden. The man cracked his neck, stretched his limbs, and wiggled his feet. “You really do cut to the chase, huh kid? I like that. Why bullshit ourselves? That just wastes time. Well, I’ll be glad to answer your question.”

James sat straight. He stared into my eyes, refusing to turn away. He opened his mouth wide. His teeth sank into his gums and disappeared. James’s tongue slithered down his throat.

His mouth stretched wider and wider. I heard the sounds of bones snapping and joints tearing apart. The muscles on his cheeks and jaw ripped open. James’s eyes rolled backwards, and he craned his head up. His neck pulsed as if his heart was beating inside his throat. He gagged and snored, all while blood drooled down his lips.

Two bloody and skinless hands emerged out of James’s mouth. They dug their sharp and long nails deep into James’s face, and torn the hole wider. Blood splattered everywhere, as hot and as acrid as sulfuric acid. James’s mouth looked like a sewer pipe with its lid removed.

I sat deeper into my seat, unable to fathom the freak show unwinding before my eyes. I wanted to run away, but the sight looked too magnificent to avoid.

Arms sprang free, just as terrifying as their hands. Muscles bulged with strength and mass. Blood and black slime peeled off the monster’s skin, exposing raw flesh. Blue and green veins ran all over his arms, pumping huge amounts of blood every few seconds. I was staring at Hell itself.

The monster’s arms spread wide. A head crept out of the hole. All the air in my lungs vanished, leaving me breathless.

The monster’s face was free of any skin. It was all muscle and blood smeared over his cheeks, forehead, and chin. The surface of his face appeared as rough as cement. The creature’s brusque lips crept into a sinister smile. White fangs protruded out of his mouth. A purple tongue slipped out, and flopped on its jaw.

The worst part were his eyes. They were as hollow as an endless pit. Only darkness was allowed inside those empty eye sockets.

Oh, and I can’t forget about his horns. Two long, narrow spikes poked out of creature’s head.

“My, my,” the monster spoke, his deep voice causing my bones to rattle. “You look much prettier when I see you with my real eyes. Much younger, indeed.”

“Are you-” I struggled to gather my words. “Are you a demon?” A stupid question, but I didn’t know what else to say.

“Oh, Brandon. If only I were. No, no, no. I’m something much worse.” The creature spread his arms out, and curtsied.

“I’m the devil himself. Nice to meet you.” The monster squeezed his whole body out of the gap he made.

James laid on the couch, lifeless and eviscerated into ribbons of flesh and blood. The devil took one looks at it, and shrugged. “Ah, I’ll clean it up later. Right now we have more important matters to deal with. Now, what do you think of what you just saw?”

“Well- I…Um…I’m speechless. Holy fuck.” His massive height astonished me the most. Mr. Morph looked about seven feet tall. Such a creature towered men and women and dwarfed children. “What about the body that you came out of? Can you use it again?”

“Unfortunately, I cannot,” Mr. Morph said. “Once I enter a human body, I can use it for as long as I want until I leave it and move on to the next one. That’s why I’m careful in who I impersonate. I use humans and their identities until they stop benefiting me, and see who the next person I can be that may help improve my business.”

“Genius,” I commented. “No wonder you’ve never been caught, and you’re not on the FBI’s most wanted list. You can commit all these crimes with different identities, and the minute you’re under someone’s radar you can simply change your image. It’s the perfect technique for a criminal.”

“And you wanna know the best part about my magic?” The devil asked. “I think this little secret with help you with what you wish to accomplish.”

“What?” I asked. “Tell me.”

“I gain all the knowledge of the human bodies I possess. That means I don’t even have to investigate a person I wish to take. I can simply assassinate them myself and that’d be all.”

No words suited a proper response to such information. “Goddamn.”

“Yes, it’s quite impressive. But enough rambling. It’s time you give me what I requested.”

“Of course,” I said. “Tell your men to go outside and to talk to Carl. Tell them to tell Carl that ‘the sun’s rising, buddy. Time for you to head home’. He’ll know what that means, and he’ll give your men the luggage.”

“Consider it done,” the devil said. He delved his fingers inside James’s pockets, and fished out a cellular phone. Mr. Morph dialed a number, and told someone to do as I said. We waited a couple of minutes until one of the men in suits I greeted earlier emerged from the darkness behind me. He rolled inside while dragging a huge luggage behind him.

“Move the table,” the devil told his man. “Bring the package here.” The man did so in under seconds. He seemed in kind of a haste. A worried look crossed his face. The wrinkles on his forehead kept on deepening every glance he took at us. This must be one of the few times he seen his boss like this.

“Now open the luggage. I want to see with my own eyes. Pick up the pace, dammit!”

The man kneeling before us unzipped the luggage, and opened it. My eyes widen. Mr. Morph reeled in closer

“Ah, yes. Well done, Brandon.” A breath of cool air seeped out of the bag. Frost rose, but evaporated soon after. “How did you preserve the body?”

“I kept it in a freezer, just how you requested,” I said. “Before Carl and I left, we stuffed the luggage with a shit-load of ice packs.”

“Good. You can leave now, Frank.” The devil waved the man away, and off he went.

“Alrighty man,” I said. “I put in my part of the deal. Where is he?” I looked Mr. Morph straight into his eyes. My neck strained to turn away, in fear of what terrors laid beyond those dark tunnels of nothingness.

“I know, I know. There’s no need to rush.” The devil unzipped the bag, picked it up with one arm, and stood up. “Follow me.” We walked towards the steel door. I felt the coldness from the other side slip through the thin slants the door presented.

Mr. Morph held a thin, silver key with a large neck. “Should’ve brought a coat. It’s about to get cold up in here.” Mr. Morph inserted the key, unlocked the door, and swung it wide.

A blanket of frozen air escaped out of the door the moment it opened. Ice and snowflakes billowed out and smacked my face. The once warm blood running through my veins turned into ice. The coldness took hold of my lungs, and shielded them with a thick layer of frost.

“He’s inside this very room,” the devil said through the sound of cold air rushing out. “Come inside, and I’ll bring you to him.” The room beyond was very bright.

We stepped inside together. The brightness settled down, and my eyes adjusted to the room’s lucid setting. I wish they hadn’t.

Rows upon piles upon crowds of dead bodies hung from chains hooked into the ceiling. I stumbled back in awe and in shock. Mr. Morph’s birth out of James’s body robbed me of my breath. The coldness of this room trapped my lungs in a sheet of ice and prevented air from sinking in. But the sight of literally hundreds of corpses all surrounding me disabled my heart and respiratory system. I bended down, grabbed my knees, and fought to inhale.

“I know! Isn’t it just marvelous?!” The devil laughed to himself. “I hang all these sons of bitches like suits, and once in a while I decide who I want to be today and what use they will be for me. The low temperature of negative five degrees helps preserve the bodies and prevents them from rotting. I don’t leave corpses here for too long, however. C’mon! Let’s take a tour around my frozen meat factory.”

The devil walked ahead of me. I followed behind, my eyes scanning and observing every single corpse I passed by. A diverse collection of dead bodies surrounded me. Men, women, children, babies, Chinese people, African Americans, Hispanics, Caucasians, and just about every other fucking race, nationality, gender, etc.!

Their feet hovered inches away from the floor. Some of the taller men and women stood on their toes. Most of them stared at the floor with an unconscious, lugubrious gaze. Some had bruises all over their bodies. Others wore sleeves of tattoos. All were naked.

“How many do you have here?” I asked.

“Guess.”

“I…I don’t know. Maybe, like, two hundred? Maybe more.”

“You’re not that far off, kid. I say I have about three-hundred and fifty in total. Maybe a bit more. I haven’t counted them all in a while.”

“Goddamn, you have that many? Do you even have space for Jose Nunez’s corpse? Where ya gonna leave ‘em?”

“In the same separate room where the person you’re looking for is. It’s just up ahead.” Mr. Morph and I walked a couple of more minutes until we reached the door.

We slipped inside the other room. The coldness was starting to bother me, but I ignored every feverish symptom. “Here I preserve my most precious bodies—the really important ones that come in handy during my business—in these here ice capsules. I was generous enough to leave the body you desire inside one of them.”

Ten boxes that looked like huge refrigerators stood against the walls. Thick metal locks kept each and every capsule secured. “In which one is he in?”

“The very first one to your left,” Mr. Morph said.

We approached the ice capsule. The Devil grabbed the lock, placed in the right combination, and the metal sprang free. He put the chunk of steel aside, and opened the capsule. My heart plunged into my stomach.

Frozen mist blew out, impairing my vision. It soon cleared up, however, and I saw who laid inside.

“Brother,” I whispered. His arms were crossed over his chest and shoulders. Bullet wounds covered his legs and ribs. I shoved his arms aside, and exposed his chest. The two fatal shots revealed themselves to me. Both on his left pectoral muscle, right where his heart once beeped and pumped blood and energy into his veins. The heart that neglected everyone from his life, but only loved four people: me, Carl, his wife, and his little girl.

I grabbed both of Jerome’s hands. I squeezed tight, and fought the tears trying to rain down my eyes. Memories of Jerome and I together bombarded my mind. The many times he bullied me. The handful of moments where he defended me against others. The few miracles in our lives where we accomplished things together, and we made it out of the shit-hole we grew up in.

I never hated anyone how I hated Jerome. And I never loved someone the way I loved my brother.

I placed his hands on my face, and sobbed. When I took them away, his fingers glistened with warm tears. My vision blurred. The only warmth in this room came from my burning eyes.

Something bumped and roared inside me. A demon of my own. A monster hidden inside me. One that knows no limits, and who sees fear as an obstacle to overcome.

“When can we do it?” I asked. I turned around to face the Devil. “When can I get inside Jerome’s mind? That was part of the deal, correct?”

“Well,” the Devil said. “We can do it right this minute if you’ll like. It’d only take a moment. You do know the consequences of your brother’s body, correct? It’s going to end up in shreds like poor James over there.”

“I know,” I said. “But it’s worth the price. I need to know who the hell killed my goddamn brother. I’ll do anything to make that son of a bitch bleed.”

“Okay then.” Mr. Morph dropped his luggage near Jerome’s capsule. “I’ll deal with that later. Just carry your brother out and follow me.”

I lifted Jerome off his capsule, and placed him on my back. “Where did you find him anyhow?”

“We scavenged around JC since we heard one of our men was assassinated, and we found him covered in blankets at some ditch not far from where he lived. He didn’t seem like he was in a fight or anything. It just looked like somebody shot him a few times and ran off.”

“Well we’re about to find out the real story,” I said. “So…how is this process done? It seems a bit, I don’t know, intimidating.”

“Don’t worry. It’s not like I’m gonna stuff you inside your brother’s body,” he joked. “C’mon, man, we’re civilized! I created a special machine in order to do that. Sure I’m the Devil and I come from ancient times, but that doesn’t mean I can’t keep up with today’s technological advancements.”

Two huge cylinders stood next to each other further into the room. They looked like real capsules instead of those ice boxes the Devil referred to. A web of wires, pipes, and cords connected the two cylinders together with a giant monitor. “What is that?” I asked.

“That, my friend, is how you’re gonna go inside your brother’s mind. I rather not bore you with the details of how it operates, so just trust me on this. Don’t worry, in no time you’ll be inside your brother.”

“It’s that simple?” I asked. I expected something a bit more complicated.

“Yep. Angels fall in complexity. Demons prosper in simplicity. You go put your brother inside one of the tubes while I set everything up.” Mr. Morph walked towards the monitor. I dragged my brother’s corpse all the way to the end of the room. “Which one does Jerome go in?”

“The right one! Make sure he’s standing up when he’s in.” I did as the Devil requested. I took one final glance at Jerome’s body. “Don’t worry, brother. I’ll get our revenge. I’m gonna be in your head for a bit, so get used to hearing my annoying voice in your thoughts.”

I walked towards the other cylinder, and stepped inside. White light bulbs shone above, reminding me of the lamps dentists use as they operate on their clients’ mouths. I laid my back against the wall, and tried to relax my nerves.

A thousand thoughts crowded my brain, but I narrowed it down to only one: my vengeance. I tried not to think how I was playing with fire. I tried not to think of the risks at hand. People all of my life have told me revenge is bitter sweet, and it achieves nothing. They don’t know the pain of losing someone you love by the hands of someone else out there. They don’t understand how much hatred builds up as you sit through your brother’s funeral, and you feel worthless.

I don’t care about morals or any bullshit like that. In this world, you either do what you have to in order to survive, or let this earth eat you alive. This world is a jungle, and it’s not a place for the weak.

And nobody, and I mean nobody, kills my brother without paying the consequences.

“Are ya ready?” Mr. Morph asked. His hand held a huge switch.

“Yeah. I’m ready.”

''I may die soon, Brandon. If I do, run away from this life. Don’t bother avenging me or anything like that. Do something different. Lead a new legacy''.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do so. I’d be betraying you if I did.”

The Devil pulled down the lever.

The doors closed. It grew bright inside…Too bright. The light became overwhelming. I screeched in protest. My eyes burned. The light torched my skin. Every cell in my body sparked a tiny fire. Embers entombed my bones. Every breath I took felt like smoke entering and leaving my lungs.

And soon enough, I passed out.

Like a ghost on a tour in my brother’s brain, I flew through millions of memories recorded by his hippocampus. They passed around me like strips of film. Each and every page held every single second documented in Jerome’s life. I even glanced at the memories buried deep in his subconscious. I looked at the world through the eyes of my brother as an infant. Layers of repressed memories blossomed free, and revealed their truth to my presence.

There was only one memory I sought to witness, however.

I found it near the end of the road. The last half-hour of his life. I dove inside, and allowed the moment to swallow me whole. I stepped inside my brother’s shoe, and came to terms with everything I wished to learn.

I saw everything. And at the last second I knew everything.

The world returned to me in tiny flashes of light. At first only a speck of it reached my vision. That tiny blob widen and brightened. Soon the entire spectrum of the world illuminated and burned the darkness into ashes. Shadows dispersed. I fell forward.

My knees and elbows hit the hard floor, but somehow my face landed on something soft. The room felt too cold. I was naked. I couldn’t help but to shake my limbs. Every hair on my body either stood up or froze in place. I groaned in pain.

And stopped moving. My voice…It sounded different. It sounded familiar.

“Oh shit,” I said, and it came again. The voice of my brother. “Oh my God. It worked!” I lifted my face off whatever I landed on. Clothes laid below me; a pair of jeans, some underwear, a plain black T-shirt, and brown dress shoes with socks stuffed inside. On top of the entire outfit remained a piece of paper. I retrieved it and read what it said.

''Had to run. Important business matters to address. Enjoy the clothes. Don’t worry about paying me back or returning them. It’s on the house. Good luck on whatever you seek to accomplish. – Mr. M. aka the Devil.''

“Hmph. You’re not so evil after all.” Or maybe it had to do with the fact that I was planning on killing someone. Either way, the Devil’s compliments came in handy.

I rushed out of Mr. Morph’s hidden den within minutes.

I staggered out of the garbage room, climbed up the flight of stairs from before, and broke into the kitchen. Chiefs, waiters, and waitresses roamed around the room. They spared me quick glances before returning to their job. I dashed out of there as quick as possible and entered the main dining hall.

It proved challenging trying to adjust to my brother’s body. For one thing, he stood at least four inches taller than me. He received most of my father’s genes, including a scruffy beard, bulky muscles, and perfect eye sight. I sometimes had to wear glasses, but looking through the eyes of Jerome made me feel super human. I felt more energetic and stronger. I never knew the potential my brother had.

I left the restaurant. I stared at the sun from far away as it ascended towards the expanding horizon. Glimmers of light sprayed out towards the sky, reminding me of the flashes that scorched my retinas moments before I passed out.

The car sat inside the parking lot. Carl stood next to it, a joint in between his fingers. A bundle of white smoke floated above him like a cloud. His gut bulged out of his suit. Carl’s eyes sagged low. He looked exhausted and stoned.

“You better save me some of that shit for later,” I said, waiting for his reaction. Carl looked up in an instant, recognizing a familiar voice.

“No way. No fucking way.” The joint fell from his fingers. Before I knew it, my brother was strangling me with hugs. “This can’t be true. No, no, no. This is too fake.” My chest grew wet. It felt weird having Carl stand right below my chin. Usually Carl stood just an inch over me.

He pulled away. His eyes were red, tears mixed with sorrow and joy. “It really worked.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I know we both feel pretty sentimental right now, but there’s no time for that. Let’s get outta here. We can’t risk them seeing us like this. They don’t know you and I are brothers.” We both entered the car and drove away for a ride.

“I know who killed Jerome. I’m going to handle business tonight.” Carl’s hand gripped the steering wheel harder, his knuckles turning white.

“Who was it?” His voice cracked. I sensed his rage thrumming from the depths of his soul.

“That son of a bitch Victor Martinez. Bastard shot Jerome down right after a meeting between both branches. Made it seem like it was just some random hit and run. I knew we shouldn’t have ever worked with those fuckers!” I kicked the dashboard.

“You gotta be shittin’ me. Please tell me ya fucking lying.”

“You’d think I lie to you over some shit like this? Nah, fuck that man! Victor is goin’ down tonight. I don’t care if I gotta do the impossible. His blood would spill by my hands.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Hol’ up one fucking second. Think this through, Jerom—I mean Brandon. Don’t just go after him recklessly. Number one, think about who you are right now. People all around town think you fucking died! We all went to ya funeral for god’s sake. You don’t think it’d be a little odd if you’re just strolling around and people see you?”

“What you think I’m retarded or somethin’? I don’t plan on killing him in broad daylight. I’m comin’ up with a plan right now.”

“But there’s more to it than that,” Carl said, and waved his hands at me like he always does while lecturing. “Think of the risk you’re putting yourself in. Victor’s well-guarded. They can either kill ya, or capture ya, and it’d be worse. And if you somehow manage to survive, you’d be under their nose constantly. They’ll hunt you do, and you know they have bigger connections than most cats out here.”

“Listen here, Carl,” I began, “Imma start by saying this: Like it or not, I’m killing Vic tonight. You’re talking to the guy who murdered Jose Nunez clean and without gettin’ caught. I think I can handle Vic. And despite all odds, I’ll be fine. I’m in Jerome’s body and mind. I know things that you and I never knew, and my physic ability surpasses ours put together. I got this.”

“Fine,” Carl agreed. “But let me come with you.”

“Absolutely not.”

“How the fuck you gon’ come to me, yapping on and on about this shit, and then denying your older brother to come? Fuck outta here, bro.”

“Did you forget you have to go to New York this afternoon?” I asked Carl. “That meeting’s important not only for you, but for your own people. You can’t bail on that shit. It’d look unprofessional.”

“Fuck New York! I just found out the son of a bitch who killed my brother, dammit! I don’t care about all this shit anymore. Fuck all this bullshit, man! I miss my brother.” Carl reeled off his lane. The hood of my car almost crashed into the front of an oncoming truck. The vehicle blared its horn, and swerved to the side. The driver rolled down his window.

“Watch where you’re driving, jackass!” a man with a baseball cap yelled.

“Carl, listen to me,” I said, and grabbed my brother’s shoulder. “I understand your frustration. But leave this to me. I know that’s a lot to ask from you, but like you said, we gotta think about this clearly. Leave Vic to me. I promise you by the end of tonight, I’ll deliver you his head. You can preserve it as a souvenir.”

Carl pulled up to the front of my house. He turned off the ignition, laid back, and brushed his hands over his hair. My brother took deep breaths. He frowned, and placed his hands over his eyes. A teardrop ran down his cheeks.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Nah, it’s okay man,” I said. “We’re dealing with a lot right now.”

“You’ll kill him, right?” Carl said, and reached out his hand. I gripped it.

“Of course. Victor Martinez is a dead man.”

“Brandon,” Carl said, and shot up. His eyes burned with aggression. They looked so red I almost believed he was crying blood instead of tears. “Promise me he’ll die. It doesn’t matter whether it’s slow and painful, or quick and painless. Promise me Victor will die tonight.” My brother squeezed my hand harder.

“I promise, Carl,” I said. “I swear on my life.”

Victor lived in Griffin St, a mile away from Journal Square, and right at the start of The Heights. The Heights consisted of shabby neighborhoods with low income houses, gangs, mobsters, guns, drugs, and Chinese restaurants. Most of our men dominate those streets. We were all born and raised in Jersey City. That was why we decided to team up with Victor until he betrayed us.

I stood in front of 409 Hutton St, an apartment a couple of blocks away from Griffin St. Every Sunday night Victor would visit his grandmother in this apartment in order to see his daughter, Daniela. Monica, Victor’s grandmother, gained custody of Daniela after Victor’s ex-wife passed away, and the court proved Victor too unstable to take care of his child. He received visitation rights, but only once every day. He chose Sunday.

The reason I knew all of this was because Jerome would often meet up with Victor right outside this building late at night. Sometimes my brother used to go inside and stay for a while. He met Vic’s daughter, and often ate dinner with his family. Vic made sure to treat Jerome like a brother.

Nobody ever came with Vic during his weekly routine, except Jerome of course. No guards, no henchmen, and not even some of his closest partners. If there was a moment to kill Vic without any witnesses, it’d be when he’s upstairs with his only family left in this town.

Of course this meant that I may need to kill his grandmother and daughter, but that malicious thought failed to dissuade me. In fact it encouraged me more.

I stepped inside the building, and climbed up the stairs until I reached the sixth floor. Monica lived in apartment 603. This late at night I imagined Vic and his family sound asleep, his arms wrapped around Daniela as they dreamt away into their own fantasies. I planned on disrupting that cord, and turning their blissful dreams into nightmares.

I brought my tools I use to pick locks, and went at it for a couple of minutes. Once I heard that satisfying click sound, I put my equipment aside and opened the door. Cool air from the apartment breezed in. All the lights were off except for a lamp near the dining table. This was no problem, however. Thanks to Jerome, I had this entire place mapped out.

I crept inside, and closed the door behind me. My heart pulsed with adrenaline. I never felt anger and fear so close together before. One fueled the other, causing my body to burst with energy. The gun resting near my waist grew heavier the more I neared towards Daniela’s room.

He always slept with her. He loved his daughter more than anyone else in this world. A man would do anything to protect his daughter. A father would burn down bridges, chase down enemies, and even go against God just to gain his daughter back.

But nobody would ever top the limits I would break to avenge my brother.

I kicked the door down, and raised my gun. “Stay down, Vic, before I blow your daughter’s brain off!”

Daniela and Monica laid sprawled in front of me. Someone slit their throats. Moonlight from the window across spilled in, revealing the blood leaking down their necks and painting the carpet red.

“What the fuck?” I stuttered. My hands shook. I almost dropped my weapon. Daniela’s once peach skin transformed into a doleful pale. Monica’s arms stretched out towards her granddaughter, as if trying to save Daniela during her final moments alive.

I didn’t understand what the hell was going on, but I knew one thing for sure: Victor did not do this.

“Calm down, Brandon. This will be all over quickly.” Someone said from the shadows next to the window. I recognize that voice. It called me Brandon. There was only one person that knew…

“Carl?” I asked. It sounded like him. “Bro, did…Did you do all this?”

The person stepped out of the darkness. It was Carl. “Of course I did this. Who else do you expect will do something this…maniacal other than me?”

It was Carl, but those eyes looked familiar. Not in how they appeared, but the way they made me feel, as if the longer I stared, the more I felt sucked right into their dark and empty cave…

“No,” I whispered. “You can’t be…You son of a bitch!” I sprinted towards him.

“Nuh-uh.” Carl pulled out a gun, and aimed it towards me. I stopped. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“What did you do with Carl?“

“Oh, you mean your brother? Well as you can see, I handled him quite well. In fact I think his body suits me perfectly. A little big for me, I’ll admit that, but so full of information.” The Devil laughed.

“One way or another, I’m gonna kill ya. You hear me, dammit!” I raised my gun. At that same moment the shadows next to Mr. Morph rippled. Men in suits emerged free. Their faces looked ominous. The top hats they wore concealed their heads with a layer of darkness, but their eyes shone with a vibrant, yellow hue. Each and every man loaded their guns at me.

“You might want to start rationalizing before you make any reckless mistakes,” The Devil said. “Hasn’t anyone taught you that? Ah, yes. That’s right! Carl did tell you earlier this day, correct? See I know because now I hold all of Carl’s memories. You really should’ve listen to your brother, Brandon.”

“What the hell do you want? What’s goin’ on, dammit?”

“You know I found out a lot of interesting things about you,” the Devil went on. “All about your childhood. Your mother used to take you to her job in New York every day, and afterwards you both would go to Central Park for a bit and spend some quality time together. Your father used to beat up your mother? You remember those times, brother?”

“Don’t you dare fucking call me that… You’re not Carl!”

“Ah, but you’re wrong!” Mr. Morph walked ahead. “I am your brother. I look just like him. I hold all of his memories. And what are humans, really, but just a clump of memories stored into their tiny brains. Think about it. If you didn’t have your memories, you wouldn’t be the man you are now. So, really, I am your brother.”

“You don’t know shit! You ain’t shit!”

“I see you’re aggravated. I understand. You did lose a brother, Jerome. You lost Brandon. Isn’t it funny how you’re not really here, Brandon? You’re inside Jerome and his memories, and I’m inside Carl. Brandon’s nowhere to be seen. You wanna know what happen to Brandon?”

“I’m right here, bitch,” I said. “Stop stalling.”

“I’ll tell ya what happened.” The Devil stepped in front of me. Even though I stared down at him, he seemed far above me. “Brandon lost his soul to me. I have full control of him, because he’s going to do everything I say. Because if he doesn’t, he’s going to pay the price. Remember, I now know things that only you and Carl knew. I know where your mother lives. I know all of your dirty little secrets. I even know that you killed your father. So you better obey.

“Or else I’ll deal with your family the way I dealt with Victor’s grandmother and daughter. Do I make myself clear?” Mr. Morph smiled.

Something inside me snapped. I don’t know if it was a loss of hope or a new level of anger.

“Why me,” I asked, and dropped my weapon. “Why did you have to do this to me? Why not anyone else?”

“Because I see your potential, and I know I can do great things with you.” the Devil tangled his arm around my neck. “But I needed a way to have you tied around my strings, and things just had to go this way. And now that you’re in Jerome’s body, and you know even more things, I think you and I are going to have some fun. How ‘bout it, partner? What other choice do you have, really? Not even God can save ya here.”

Mr. Morph stuck out his hand. “Deal?”

I stared into his eyes. The Devil stood next to me with an offer I couldn’t refuse. And if I did deny, I’d be placing my entire family in jeopardy. I knew what I had to do.

“Deal,” I said, and shook the man’s hand.

In a way, we all have a little bit of the Devil inside us. Especially people like my brothers and me. I was never meant to bring peace into this world. I’m infatuated with violence and the immoral. I seek danger and live with guilt. I see not a glimpse of a bright and harmonic future, but a vision of a world filled with chaos and calamity. These are the things that make me who I am.

And soon enough, Hell is going to see a new king rob the throne, even if I have to kill the current ruler with my own bare hands.

Patience, Carl always used to tell me. All I need is patience. 