NY Driver Makes a Strange Deal With a Businessman

Luke sucks at soccer. I have to admit it. I know as a dad that is a terrible thing to say. But it is the truth. My eight year old son is much better at math than running about dribbling the ball on the pitch. But he has the time of his life every time he steps on the soccer field. His enthusiasm, often rubbing off on his teammates and, many times, even the coach. Whether it is a practice session during the weekdays or a game on the weekends, Luke gives it his all, even if the end result is not to his liking. And today would be a good example of that.

His team the Trailblazers got their behinds razed in typical lawn mower fashion with a 0-7 drubbing. While Luke secretly likes to address himself and his teammates as ‘Messi’s Boys’, the game today was messy alright, just like it had been all year round. The kids are yet to open their account this season. But I honestly didn’t mind. I was just happy to see my son pursue something with passion. While he did sit and brood at the end of each game, it never dampened the zest he had for life. And the losses only made him more determined.

So, it has become customary for me to treat a sulking Luke to an ice cream at his favorite joint after every Sunday game, where he would sit and go over the game specifics, in the hopes that a change of tactics would somehow lead to a change of outcome in the next. His attention however changed midway when he suddenly spotted a large limousine stop at a construction site nearby. “Dad, do you drive one of those?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the car while he slowly licked his ice cream.  

I wasn’t surprised at the question since I worked as a driver for a car rental agency. But we no longer had those stretch limousines at our shop anymore. Its popularity had waned over the years, and a lot of travelling businessmen now find them tacky to use in the New York financial circles at least.

“No buddy. But your grandpa did. In fact, he used to pick me up from school in that car often, and we used to go on long drives.” I said.

“I would like to travel in that too someday”, Luke replied back, his eyes still fixed on the car.

“Well, maybe you can take your date to prom in that thing in a few years. Hopefully you will learn to kiss a girl before that,” I said teasingly, while Luke shrivelled his nose in mock disgust.

The sight of the limousine however stirred up mixed feelings in me. My dad, Henry Pritchard walked out of my life when I was 10 years old. I remember it vividly even today. He approached me one day and announced that he was traveling abroad for a little while. He emphasized that I was to be the man of the house until his return, and instructed me to take good care of Mom in his absence.

When he picked up his suitcase and left the apartment, I ran to my room to look through the window that overlooked the driveway. There, I saw a large red-colored limousine parked out in front.

Dad approached the car and then turned around to look at me. He knew I would be watching him from behind the curtains. He simply raised his hands and waved at me one last time before entering the car. I never saw or heard from him again.

My thoughts were suddenly interrupted when I felt my phone ring in my pocket, it was from my boss Gary Mehicus. “Hey Matt, we got a new booking today. Big fish by the looks of it. He’s booked us for the whole month. Insisted on you being the wheelman, said you came highly recommended. You think you can handle it for the entire time?” he asked me.

“Sure boss. Just tell me when and where,” I responded.

“Great. Take good care of him Matt. He might just tip you a sack of gold” Gary said laughing. ”Oh, and take Roy out for a spin” he added, before ending the call.

Roy, a custom-ordered Rolls Royce Phantom, is our best car at the rental agency. He is reserved exclusively for our top clients.

Gary and I visited the manufacturers and spent a few of days meticulously selecting every detail for Roy, from Arctic white leather seats to discreet bullet-proofing, wood veneers to upholstery, and every other amenity to achieve the best blend luxury and security.

Gary and I go back a long way. In fact, he was best friends with my dad, and they both used to work for the same rental agency. Gary is also my godfather, and when my dad went missing, he went the extra mile to fill the void in my life.

I developed a rebellious streak in my early teens, angry that dad had abandoned me and mom as a family.

For the first few months after his disappearance, I made it a point to peek at the window every day, sometimes for hours, hoping he would eventually turn up—a habit that never stopped and still continues subconsciously to this day, although I know better now.

However, back then, it eventually turned to anger, and Mom had a difficult time controlling me as a kid.

My grades started falling, I would randomly pick fights with children in school, and I even tried my luck being an errand boy for drug peddlers in my neighbourhood. Gary had to intervene and introduced me to his love for baseball and driving.

He took me on long drives once every month for an entire year, and showed me around the countryside. It felt like a soothing balm for the wounded soul.

But my happiest moment came when I was in attendance at the stadium with Gary, and Tino Martinez’s grand slam of '98 unfolded right in front of my eyes. We all went delirious with joy in the stadium, as I found myself hugging and celebrating with random strangers. That experience changed my life and I emerged transformed as a person.

Gary also obtained a signed jersey and cap from the players during his time chauffeuring them on tours, presenting it to me as a birthday gift. It remains my most prized possession.

So when he started his own rental agency, I decided to join him as soon as I was finished with school, and have been working for him ever since.

My own childhood experiences motivated me to be the best dad I could be to my son. Since his mother was no longer with us, I always went the extra mile to ensure he had a supportive and loving environment.

I also tried to inculcate in Luke my love for driving and baseball, but the kid gravitated towards soccer. Fortunately, we still do share a common love for cars, and he always looks forward to long drives on weekends.

My mind got diverted again when I heard my phone beep, Gary had just sent me the details about the next client.

I dropped Luke at home and went to the office garage to take Roy out for a spin.

A couple of hours later, I arrived at the address I had received on my phone. Situated a little bit on the outskirts of the city, I got there half an hour ahead of time.

I parked my car near a diner and noticed a large man standing by the entrance.

Dressed in a perfectly tailored pinstripe suit, he appeared to be in his early fifties, around 6’4" in height, with broad shoulders and a heavy set build. His salt-and-pepper hair was slicked back, and his beard was neatly trimmed. He casually smoked a cigar while holding a walking stick in his other hand, adorned with a prominent goat-shaped carving at the top.

"Mr. Thomas Devlin?" I inquired as I stepped out of the car. He nodded, extending his hand while clenching the cigar in his mouth.

"And you must be Matt?" he declared, with a booming baritone voice. I could see a couple of gold teeth glint in the dark as he flashed a warm smile.

"Yes Sir. I'm Matt Prichard, your chauffeur for the evening. I hope I haven't kept you waiting?" I inquired, feeling a tinge of embarrassment, despite being ahead of schedule.

“No young man. I usually like to stretch my legs and enjoy a cigar after a fine meal’” he said pointing to the diner behind him. Mr. Devlin looked a peculiar sight in this neighborhood, especially with the diner in the backdrop.

Everything about him screamed money, so it did make me wonder why someone of his affluence would choose to visit this place, at this hour. But I could also sense an undeniable toughness in him, the kind of man who probably started from the bottom and had to work his way up the ladder.

A few minutes later, Mr. Devlin suggested we hit the road, and I promptly opened the car door, allowing him to ease into the backseat.

When I took my position behind the wheel, he handed me a gold card, which was the size of a normal government ID but much thicker.

It had a Trident symbol embossed on both ends. As I looked at it confused, he told me to simply place it on the GPS screen. I did as I was told, and the navigation system immediately sprang to life, displaying a new set of coordinates.

Mr Devlin realized my lingering confusion as I continued to stare at the card that was stuck to the screen.

“Probably a hidden chip embedded in that thing,” he joked from the backseat, his teeth glinting as I looked in the rear view mirror.

I quickly nodded in acknowledgment and began driving.

As we navigated through the city, Mr. Devlin shared that he was based out of Chicago and was currently in the city for a new business venture. He was not much of a conversationalist but instead showed more interest in my life, inquiring about my job and family.

It struck me as somewhat unusual for a businessman of his stature to delve into a chauffeur's experiences. He particularly relished the humorous stories I recounted revolving Luke, often breaking into a smile.

While chauffeurs typically have anecdotes ready on hand for bored clients, Mr. Devlin appeared genuinely intrigued by my life, almost as if, he was using it as an opportunity to evaluate me.

The navigation system then finally beeped to signal the arrival of the location, and a newly opened grand hotel loomed just a few feet away.

“Sir your card,” I said, as I retrieved the gold card from the screen and turned around in my seat to hand it to him.

Mr. Devlin said, “Keep it, Matt; it's your tip for the evening.”

“Don’t worry, it's genuine,” he chuckled as he noticed me glancing at the gold card a little longer than necessary. “And consider it a ticket, not a card,” he clarified.

Mr. Devlin then fell silent for a moment, remaining seated in contemplation as he gazed in my direction before resuming to speak again.

“Matt, I have a proposition for you? Would you be interested in hearing me out?” he suddenly asked me.

“Sure Mr Devlin, what do you have in mind?” I responded.

“I am looking for a driver I can rely on. Your name came recommended from a former client of yours whose judgment I trust. I was told that you are good at your job, professional, always on time, know your way around the city, and that you are discreet about the clients you chauffeur. Would you accept that as an accurate assessment of yourself?” he asked.

“Yes Sir. That would be correct” I replied back.

“Good. So here is what I have in mind. I need you to chauffeur my clients for the next 30 days. The details of the pick-up will be texted to your phone every day at 7:00 PM sharp. All you have to do is pick them up and drop them at the coordinates provided to you. That is all. Nothing more. Similar to how it happened between us today. A gold ticket will be given to you at the start of each drop, and that would be your payment for services rendered."

“I hope I have been clear thus far?” he stopped midway to ask me. I simply nodded back.

“Excellent. Now, I have 3 conditions you need to religiously adhere to. One, if you agree to take on this job, you cannot walk out midway. You need to see it through.”

“Two, under no circumstances are you to participate or involve yourself in whatever activity the passengers may be engaged in. Your job is to solely chauffeur them, and once you have dropped them at the designated location, you are to return back. There is no need for you to wait to pick them up again. “

“Three, you have to be discreet about this job, which means nobody else can know about it. That would include your boss or any other colleagues in your agency.”

“These are the only three rules you need to follow. Furthermore, payment to your company has already been settled in full for the proposed deal's duration, covering fuel costs and exclusively booking your services as a driver. So, you do not have to worry about other commitments either. I need you to concentrate solely on the job at hand. Are we clear?” he asked, pausing again to await my response.

I nodded in understanding, although I was beginning to get wary about what was on offer. The more the man spoke, the more I began to wonder if I would be getting into some kind of trouble.

“Sir, I need to ask. Does this job involve any dealings with the grey areas of the law?” I inquired delicately.

My Devlin paused for a moment before speaking. “Maybe, maybe not. But I can assure you this. You will not get into any kind of legal trouble. I trust you have been a chauffeur long enough to know when to look the other way. Treat this job like any other, and you'll be just fine," he said in a matter of fact manner.

I still felt a sense of unease over the entire thing and started slowly shaking my head when Mr Devlin said, “Look, Matt, there's no need to rush your decision. If your answer is no, just keep it to yourself for now and you can simply text me your decision tomorrow. My suggestion to you is to take the night to mull things over. It's good easy money you can make in a month. You can probably use it to buy something nice for your kid.  However, there is no pressure from my side. Your employer will not receive bad feedback from me, if you choose to reject this offer. So, I’ll leave it entirely up to you.” he added, reassuringly.

I nodded back at him smiling, grateful that he was open and direct with me.

“Alright then. I guess it’s time to get back on my feet” he said, as he prepared to exit from the car. I quickly got out of the vehicle to open the door for him.

Mr Devlin shook hands with me and started his walk to the hotel. I saw him slowly climb up those stairs and enter through the doors of the newly built Trident Regency hotel.

The following day, just like I was told, I received a text on my phone at 7:00 PM sharp. It gave the location of the pick-up, and also reminded me to be on time.

I sat down and looked at the gold ticket that was lying on my bedside table. Picking it up, I examined it closely, feeling its weight in my hand as I patted it on my palm. It’s certainly worth a considerable chunk of money, especially if I was to come in possession of another 30 of them.

Plus, the elegantly embossed ruby encrusted trident on both sides of the card was only going to add to its value.

On one hand, I had a bad feeling about this, knowing full well the client from last night could be involved in a questionable line of work. But I also saw this as an opportunity to make some quick money.

It was only a month-long gig, requiring a few hours of driving each day.  I could easily be making 2-3 times my annual salary within that time frame. Maybe even more, once I get to know exactly how much these cards are worth.

‘I mean how bad could it really get?’, I asked myself, when I really thought about it.

I might probably be required to drive people to an illegal gambling joint, or take a VIP client to visit his favorite hooker in the middle of the night. Nobody is going to hire a premium car service to indulge in petty crime, I reasoned.

My eyes then shifted toward my son Luke, who was immersed in his studies. He was busy tackling a new math problem, and that made me break into a smile. He was probably the only kid in the world who liked the idea of homework. Give him a few books that pique his interest and he needs to be constantly reminded to eat.

‘Maybe I could sell the tickets and deposit the proceeds in a bank. Leave it untouched for a few years, letting it slowly collect interest over time. And when Luke gets older, the money could come in handy to pay for college,’ I thought

The more I contemplated, the more I wanted to take on this job. So I replied back saying that I would be there. I got ready and dressed, and was out the door in twenty minutes.

Before leaving, I reached out to my regular babysitter, Jennifer, who lives with her family on the same floor in the apartment just next to ours. She is very fond of Luke and agrees to keep an eye on him whenever I am away for work

I got into my car and instructed little Roy to be on his best behaviour for the night. Starting the car, I rolled out of my apartment building toward my pick-up point.

Upon reaching the venue, my attention was immediately drawn to a man dressed in a clown outfit with a duffle bag slung across his shoulder. When our eyes met, I realized that he was my fare for the night, the designated passenger I was meant to pick up.

The clown opened the door and sat in the back seat. He reached into his jacket and handed me his ticket. I could see his knuckles were bruised, giving me the impression he was involved in some kind of brawl recently.

‘Great start Matt!!’, I thought to myself.

I received the ticket from him and placed it on the GPS screen and it immediately started relaying a new set of coordinates. The odd thing with this arrangement is that it doesn’t reveal the destination beforehand.

Instead all you get are directions for the next 50 meters ahead of you. The blue line on the screen updates only as much as the movement your car makes while driving.

I thought the whole thing was a little bizarre, but the ticket was doing its magic, dangling itself like a carrot in front of me every time I tried to wrestle with reason.

I quickly glanced at the rear view mirror to take a look at my passenger.

He looked tired and worn out, and was resting his head on the headrest, trying to grab a quick shut eye. Despite the heavy makeup, his face bore visible wounds.

Even by clown standards, I thought his outfit was unusual and odd. Instead of the rainbow coloured wig, he was wearing a wavy white one, reminiscent of those Barristers in British courts. There was also a white neck band jutting out of his outfit that people usually associate with lawyers.

‘What is this guy upto?’ I quietly asked myself, as the clown simply rested in the back seat of the car, whistling softly while tapping his finger rhythmically on his duffle bag, like he was getting ready to put on a show.

A couple of minutes later, the system beeped abruptly to signal the arrival of a certain Roza pharmacy, which was located on the opposite side of the road.

The clown thanked me for the ride and stepped out of the car. He stretched himself for a second and then opened his duffle bag to remove a bugle. He dug his right hand into his pocket to retrieve a knuckle buster and put it on.

The oncoming traffic suddenly came to a standstill, to make way for the clown as he crossed the road playing his bugle and twirling his arm raised in the air. The commuters cursed him as they passed by, but he remained unfazed and continued moving forward.

The clown then rolled his hand into a fist, and pointed it at the guy working behind the counter in the pharmacy, to signal him of his imminent arrival.

The employee just stared back from the storefront window, his face had gone white and he immediately bent down to probably reach for a gun, but the clown was prepared and suddenly took off into a sprint.

He threw away the bugle and rushed into the pharmacy, catching the customers inside by surprise. The employee by this time had retrieved a shotgun but only just barely, as the clown caught him by the collar of his shirt and banged his head against the counter. He then dragged the hapless employee to his side of the shop and yanked the shotgun away from his grasp.

The clown aimed the shotgun in the air and fired it once, suggesting to the customers that they would be wise to flee.

He then aimed the weapon directly at the employee’s face as he waited for the people to scram.

I could see him speaking something animatedly to the employee but I was too far away to pick up any of it. Once the people had cleared out, he emptied the shotgun and threw it behind the counter.

The clown then picked the employee off the ground and started raining punches on the poor guy. I watched in both horror and amazement as he caught hold of the guy’s shirt and started pushing him forcefully.

They both rammed themselves into the storefront window, shattering it and spilling onto the pavement.

The clown swiftly rose to his feet and began pummelling the employee again who lay sprawled on the sidewalk.

Each time he raised his knuckle-buster-fitted hand in the air, he looked skyward, as if inquiring with the Gods above, ' ‘Are you happy? Is this enough?’ before delivering another crushing blow.

And he kept repeating it again and again.

The cars on the road just sped past him, momentarily blocking my view of the event from unfolding, reminiscent of a flickering tubelight illuminating a dark space in momentary bursts.

And when the clown’s fist did make contact, it was like a streak of lightning determinedly hitting its intended target. I watched the whole thing completely transfixed, unable to move mind or muscle.

I jolted back to my senses only when a large vehicle suddenly parked itself in front of the pharmacy, completely blocking my view. Up until then, it felt as if I had been in a trance. I immediately started my car and sped off.

As I continued driving, my mind struggled to even recollect if the vehicle on scene was a patrol car or an ambulance or simply, another taxi.

The surreal nature of the encounter left me unsettled, questioning the motives and actions of the unpredictable clown.

Despite driving in circles for the next twenty minutes, I eventually found myself back at the exact spot where I had left Mr. Devlin the previous night.

I brought the car to a stop but kept the engine running while I continued to stare at the newly built Trident Regency hotel, located a mere 20 metres away from me.

‘Maybe I should head up those stairs and meet Mr Devlin, and communicate to him in person that I am not interested in this job anymore. Or I could just ask my boss Gary to cancel the order. He would definitely understand if I said the gig was risky and wouldn’t probe me for details.’

Every instinct in me warned that I should pack my bags and lay low for a while. On any given day, I would have done just that. But I felt something awaken in me when I saw that clown in the pharmacy, and I couldn’t understand what it was.

I hadn’t felt this alive in years and I struggled to shake it off.

At the same time, I could also sense an overwhelming cacophony of contradictory voices in my head simultaneously coming to life - each fighting the other to gain the upper hand on who gets to dictate my future course of action.

‘So what are you waiting for Matt? You saw the clown at work, how he went to town and made the world his own circus. How much more of a warning do you need?’

‘But you have a deal to honor here ,Matt, and you have a duty to see it through. You didn’t hurt anybody. You did nothing wrong here. The clown would have gone through with his plan anyway, even if you hadn’t taken up this job.’

‘Oh, so this is how we're going to rationalize the events of this evening, are we? Would you consider taking a job knowing you'd be driving for smugglers dealing in stolen body parts? Or offering your services to a group that kidnaps kids as they return home from school?

‘These are extreme examples Matt, and are being dished out to screw with your head. Don’t overthink this. The world isn’t a fair place. We all know that. Sometimes we got to make the best use of the opportunities that come our way. Remember, you have a kid you need to take care of. You have seen how smart Luke is. He could be a doctor  or an engineer someday. How else are you going to arrange the money for his college tuition? You swore to yourself the day you held Luke in your arms for the first time, you would be present in his life and not abandon him, like your father did to you.’

‘Wooow. This is low even for you ,Matt, to drag your father and kid in a mess of your own making. Did you ever stop to consider that you can land in prison over this? If day 1 could be this dramatic, what do you think will follow in the days to come? Are you planning on becoming the best father of the year from behind bars, while your kid grows up in foster care? Do you think the little bookworm can survive the bullying from kids twice his size? Why don’t you just admit it Matt, that you liked what you saw back there, and that somewhere deep within you, there is a flaw in your moral character…’

I shut down the car and closed my eyes, resting my forehead on the steering wheel, trying to desperately filter out all the noise. I took deep long breaths as I tried to steady my mind. A little while later, I leaned back in my seat, and attempted to think things through again from scratch.

‘One night. Just one more night,’ I decided finally. ‘And if things don’t change for the better, we are calling it quits no matter what’, I said to myself a few minutes later.

I started the car again and raced home to get ready for the next day.

When the clock struck 7 the next day, I was already sitting in my car and started the vehicle immediately to get to the location.

While approaching the pick-up point, I spotted a solitary, tall figure near a bus stand in the distance. Upon getting closer, I discovered that my passenger for the night was none other than Batman.

As I stopped my car and looked across the window, I saw the man’s cape fluttering gracefully in the wind, casting a dramatic silhouette against the backdrop of the city’s skyline. Batman then opened the door and sat in the backseat of my car.

“Gotham city?” I asked, looking into the rear view mirror offering half a smile.

I knew my feeble attempt at humor was not going to cut it with him, but I needed to assess the new customer, if I was to somehow try and prevent a repeat of last night.

“Somebody is getting real comfortable,” Batman growled back with a scowl, while handing me the golden ticket he held in his hand.

He then leaned back and looked at the road ahead in silence.

I placed the card on the navigation system and started driving, deciding to remain quiet for the remainder of the journey.

As the minutes passed, the man masquerading as Batman slowly began to exude a certain kind of warmth, almost reluctant to admit he was having a decent time.

A wry smile even appeared on his face as he relaxed to the rhythm of New York’s evening traffic, silently observing people go about their daily lives.

From friends laughing at each other’s jokes in the side-lines to people enjoying a quiet meal at a bistro to commuters getting involved in heated disputes with one another to lovers simply sitting on a bench holding hands - he soaked it all in, with a quiet sense of detachment.

I inwardly heaved a huge sigh of relief.

Hopefully, Batman won’t just suddenly barge out of the car, mid traffic, chasing after gangsters in a deserted alley. I also turned on the radio to play some music to further soothe the atmosphere.

And in a matter of minutes, both Batman and I were bobbing our heads, slowly jiving to the beat of a soaring jazz number. Though I had no idea about who the artist was, I could somehow feel the lingering edge from last night slowly wearing off, when suddenly, I was distracted by a beep from my navigation system.

I figured we had finally reached our destination and I gently slowed down the car to a halt.

But my heart began to race again, when I realized I had stopped the vehicle just outside a police station.

Before I could utter another word, Batman was already out the door.

“Keep the engine running,” he said, without looking back as he crossed the road to get to the police station.

I saw two police officers standing outside the precinct, drinking coffee and looking engrossed in conversation.

Their attention quickly turned towards the caped crusader, as he gently bowed his head while walking past them, offering also a quick two finger salute that caused both officers to break into a grin.

One of the policemen then looked in my direction, winking and smiling at me, as if signalling to mention the arrival of this week’s ‘weirdo’ amongst our midst.

‘SHIT…….SHIT ……..SHIT’ I cursed to myself, kicking my feet around in the car while pretending to smile back at the officer.

A policeman had spotted me, and the last thing I needed right now was to spend a night in a jail cell.

And I can say with certainty that this version of Batman is not looking to pay a courtesy visit to his ‘old pal’ Gordon.

I kept the engine running, with my hands tightly gripping the steering wheel, wondering if I should just quietly drive away. But my body had already frozen and a part of me actually wanted to wait and see what was going to happen, and that scared me even the more.

I scanned the surrounding buildings looking for cameras and to my dismay, I found them everywhere. It felt like they had been specifically installed just to keep an eye on me.

Then when I looked across the road to steal a glance at the precinct again, I found the same officer staring at me while his buddy was busy answering a phone call.

He had a curious look on his face, as if he was trying to connect the dots to a possible problem.

I suddenly felt a pit form in my stomach, when I heard loud noises emanate from the police building behind him. The screams of people echoed through the air, as unknown objects crashed and shattered to the floor.

The officer briefly glanced back before fixing his gaze on my panic-stricken face. Finally connecting the dots, he pointed his hand at me, looked me in the eye, and sternly yelled, “STAY!”

Soon after, gunshots also echoed from within the precinct. Both officers swiftly drew their weapons and charged toward the police building, guns pointed forward.

And everything began to unfold in slow motion from that very moment before my own eyes.

As they reached for the door, a colossal ball of fire erupted from the building, obliterating everything in its path. The explosion sent shockwaves, tearing the two mens' bodies to shreds.

One officer's head soared 20 metres in the air, landing on the bonnet of my car before bouncing off to hit the lamppost adjacent to me, and finally settling in the dead space between my car and the vehicle in front.

It belonged to the policeman who had smiled at me only a minute earlier and now his haunting lifeless gaze sent me into a panicked frenzy.  I quickly put the gear in reverse, only to hit the car parked behind me, setting off its siren.

My senses suddenly snapped back to real time. It was as if the clock had been sped up, and I finally started to experience the full chaotic atmosphere around me. The branches of the trees around the precinct had caught fire, the sirens of multiple cars blared in unison while the people nearby were scared shitless and ducking helplessly for cover.

I quickly tried to compose myself before turning on the ignition again and tried to swerve to the right as much as possible, to avoid the car from running over the severed head in front. But I wound up chipping it from the side causing the head to roll over inwards and catch the full impact of my rear wheel. Wincing in disgust, I struggled to steady my trembling hands while gripping the steering wheel.

“FUCK!!” I yelled out loud, once I had cleared a couple of blocks and when the nerves began to finally settle.

I could already see visions of the police breaking into my home and cuffing my hands in front of my kid.

‘What is going to happen to my son? He’s got no one else in this world’, I thought to myself, my mind fraught with worry.

I drove around the city aimlessly for the next 20 minutes, contemplating the increasing likelihood of my own incarceration.

Going to the police on my own accord made no sense, they wouldn’t believe my story anyway. I’d probably be tagged as an accomplice to the crime and, honestly, that wouldn’t surprise me. The cops can be ruthless when their own safety is under threat.

Then there was Mr Devilin himself and that wretched deal of his that I also needed to sit and worry about. Surely, I am not going to go through with the rest of it now, and he is not going to be pleased over it either.

So I thought it would best to probably lay low for a while until this all blew over.  I ditched my cell and stopped at a convenience store along the way to get a new burner phone.

When I reached my apartment at last, I immediately stuffed some clothes in a bag. Gently, I woke Luke up and helped him get dressed quickly. Together, we sat in the car and headed for Philly, where I planned to crash at a friend’s place for a couple of days before considering my next move. Eric Gunther, an old high school buddy, had moved to Philadelphia for work a few years back, so reaching out to him seemed like a good idea.

By the time I reached Eric’s home, it was already 4 in the morning. He was surprised to see me at his doorstep, with Luke sound asleep and resting on my shoulder, and immediately knew I was in some kind of trouble. He ushered me in and cleared the spare room for the two of us.

Eric and I agreed to get some rest first, and talk things over in the morning.

After gently laying Luke down on the bed without waking him, I settled into a rocking chair nearby. As I leaned back, the exhaustion washed over me, and I immediately drifted to sleep.

When I woke up, it took me a moment to realize I was still at Eric’s place. I checked my watch, it was already 8:00 AM. I then glanced at the bed next to me, and realized Luke was already up.

‘He’s probably hungry or Eric’s already made something for him.’ I thought.  I could anyway hear the TV playing from living room

I slowly got up from the chair and walked toward the hall still groggy from last night. My legs suddenly buckled, and I hit the floor hard.

Eric’s severed head lay skewered on a pitch fork erected in the middle of the living room. I tried to get up, but my legs buckled again.

I crawled all the way to his room like a dog, and tried to open the door with my outstretched hand.

I had to grab onto the nearby wall to pull myself up and stand straight. That's when I saw my old friend's headless body lying on the bed. I puked my guts out right there.

As I lay crouched on my knees, with my head still spinning, I suddenly remembered Luke. He was nowhere in sight.

I got up and searched every nook and cranny of the apartment. The bathrooms, the kitchen, the cupboards, under the bed, the attic, everywhere. He was nowhere to be found, and he is not the sort of kid to run off on his own.

I then went and started to check the other apartments in the building including the terrace and still found no trace of him. Finally I remembered the basement where I had parked the car and I immediately rushed to look for him there.

As I reached the entrance to the basement, I saw droplets of blood in the parking area and it led all the way to the trunk of my car.

My heart thudded in my chest as I walked slowly, my legs heavy like lead, refusing to move as I inched forward, terrified of what I would find.

When I finally reached the car, with trembling hands I opened the trunk and slowly peered in.

There, dead center, lay my burner phone, the same one I had purchased the previous night.

As soon as I picked it up, it vibrated in my hand, revealing a new set of coordinates — coordinates pointing…. to my own home address.

I shut the trunk and immediately started my drive back to New York. I drove as fast as I could and rushed to my apartment the moment I reached the city. When I opened the door to Luke’s room, I heaved a huge sigh of relief to see him with Jennifer who was helping him with his lessons.

I sank into a couch in the hall, teetering almost on the verge of a breakdown.

I think Jennifer somehow realized my state of mind and excused herself before leaving for her apartment. She also goaded Luke into coming and sitting next to his dad. The kid came and sat beside me, wrapping his arms around me and resting his head on my chest.

An overwhelming avalanche of guilt engulfed me, as I sat there thinking about my friend Eric, while also experiencing a feeling of intense relief, upon seeing that my son was safe.

Luke recalled me waking him up in the middle of the night, but he dismissed it as a dream, as he eventually woke up in his own bed. He then pointed his hand at a sealed envelope placed on the center table, just a couple of feet away from us.

When I picked the envelope, I noticed the wax seal had a trident symbol embossed on it. I ripped it open and took out the letter. It read -

WE HAD A DEAL

GET BACK TO YOUR REGULAR LIFE

DON’T WORRY ABOUT THE COPS

A simmering rage gradually took hold within me. I wanted to get up and break every item in my apartment. Luke’s embrace was the only comforting antidote that prevented me from releasing all that pent-up frustration.

So I simply closed the letter and proceeded to get along with my daily chores. I showered, brought groceries, cooked, cleaned and then took Luke out for soccer practice. We were back home by 6 and I got about getting ready for my next appointment.

Once I was dressed, I simply sat in the living room, looking at the phone placed on the table, waiting for it to go off. And at 7:00 PM sharp I got the coordinates for my next pick up.

I got off the couch, headed to my liquor cabinet, and pulled out a full bottle of bourbon.

After taking a big swig from it, I sat in the car and tossed the bottle onto the adjacent seat.

As the engine purred to life, I hit the streets and got ready to pick up my new passenger for the night.

The person I was supposed to ride with for tonight turned out to be Gandhi. When I arrived at the designated spot, I saw him dressed in a traditional loincloth with a shawl wrapped around his torso. Gandhi placed his walking stick on his lap after settling into his seat, and remained nonchalant as he observed me take another swig of bourbon.

I pressed the gas pedal as soon as he closed the door, and started driving toward the drop point. When I eventually slowed the car down at a signal, I saw a patrol car parked along the sidewalk. For some inexplicable reason, their presence immediately reminded me of the sealed envelope.

I then lowered my window and hollered at the officers seated inside the car, and they waved back in acknowledgment.

I took two large gulps of bourbon in front of them, but I was a little taken aback when they ignored me even though my car was a mere 10 feet away from theirs. Next, I dangled my entire arm outside the window and started pouring the alcohol onto the street.

When even that went ignored, I banged the bottle against the car’s door continuing to empty its contents onto the road as I kept staring at the cops with a smile on my face. I became livid when the officers simply smiled back at me and then continued their own private conversation.

In a fit of anger, I got down from the car and threw the bottle at their vehicle, where it hit the bonnet and shattered to the ground, finally managing to grab their complete attention.

However, I stood there in stunned silence when I saw the cops searching for the culprit in every possible direction except mine, while I was simply standing a mere 3 feet away from them.

The officer pushed me away and continued to search for the perpetrator. They looked ahead, they looked back and then at the sides, even underneath the car. When nothing made sense, they glanced at the upper floors of the nearby buildings to check for potential mischief makers.

The officer then went on to even ask me why I was staring at them, and ordered me to get back to my car. During this entire episode, Gandhi sat in silence in the back seat, his face betraying no emotion or acknowledgment.

And then the signal turned green, giving me the go ahead to keep driving straight as per the GPS system, I instead took a sharp right turn and started going off course from the required destination. I pressed the pedal as the car quickly began to pick up speed.

50 mph

70 mph

80 mph

I swerved dangerously every now and then, to avoid colliding into other cars even though I knew I had a passenger I was responsible for in the back seat.

‘I mean he is not exactly a citizen of the year is he?’ I thought to myself, as I continued to live on the edge. He might be dressed as a great man, but he wasn’t him. He didn’t even look Indian. He looked more Asian, maybe Japanese and was younger too, probably early fifties.

And then Gandhi spoke for the first time since the entire trip.

“Perhaps, it is better not to test your luck against someone who is very good at breaking down people slowly”, he said, in a calm and detached voice.

In that moment, I felt the anger in me dissipate, and I couldn’t understand why. But I knew he was right. Things could get even worse than what they were now. I slowed the car down to a stop and turned back to look at him.

He had his sight fixed on the window, looking outside and lost in thought, although he seemed very much aware of his surroundings.

“What on earth is going on here?” I asked him, feeling helpless and unable to keep the bitterness away from my voice. “What sort of madness is this?”

Japanese Gandhi continued to observe the vehicles passing by without offering an immediate answer.

“Please drive”, he said moments later, and that was all he would offer.

I sighed deeply and turned around in my seat feeling disappointed. I started the car and slowly got back on the correct route.

Once we reached the location, I saw a fair number of people assembled at a square, which was odd considering it was late, and night had already fallen. There was also a small crew of people holding cameras reporting from the scene.

I removed the ticket from the GPS screen and threw it outside. I then dug into my shirt pocket and removed all the other tickets I had collected so far and threw them out as well. They quickly submerged from view as people walked over them, blending into the activity at the square.

As the reporters clicked away at their cameras, I for a moment wondered what would happen if I suddenly jumped out of the car right now butt naked holding a machine gun? Would the crowd only notice me and not the gun I was holding in my hand? Will I continue to have the same kind of selective invisibility that I had a few minutes back?’

While these bizarre thoughts lingered in my head,  Japanese Gandhi meanwhile had already stepped out of the car and slowly strode towards the square, holding his walking stick at hip level, treating it like it were a samurai sword.

As I began turning my car around the block to head back home, I observed him shift his grip on the stick, raising it horizontally to chest height, and then pulled at it, to unsheathe what appeared to be a long sword.

I no longer felt any interest in watching the event, except sadness for what would follow shortly.  Before navigating the corner, I glanced at my rear view mirror one last time, and saw Gandhi had his sword raised above his head like a warrior, and charged into a group of people protesting peacefully over gun violence. I could tell my mind was simply numb and already getting accustomed to the violence. I simply drove back in silence.

Once I was back home a few hours later, I realized Luke had already gone to sleep. I felt a profound gratitude towards Jennifer for watching over him during my work hours.

When I finally entered my room and turned on the light, I found all the discarded golden tickets lying on my bedside table. They had somehow mysteriously found their way back into the house.

Frankly, I wasn’t surprised anymore, nor did I have any fuel left to feel another round of emotions for the day. I lay down on my bed and fell fast asleep.

Over the next few days, I chauffeured all sorts of clients.  There was a woman who was dressed like a bird with large wings attached to her back. I drove her round New York for two hours where we would stop at various places to feed pigeons and she would even sing for them.

Though not a very skilled singer, she sang from the heart, and the tears flowed freely down her cheeks while the birds flocked around her. As her voice reverberated through the air, the pigeons quietly ate from her palm and flew away only when she finished singing.

When we finally stopped by the Brooklyn Bridge, she walked towards the railing and climbed on top of the ledge. For a moment, I feared she was going to jump, but the women simply strapped the wings to her forearms and stood on the ledge, with outstretched hands and began singing again.

A hoard of pigeons rushed towards her, but this time the birds looked angry. One pigeon perched on her forehead and plucked her eyes out, instantly blinding her, while the others pecked away at her body, causing her to scream in agony as she fell into the East River.

There was another case where I had to wait outside a hospital. A surgeon stepped out of the building still dressed in scrubs. As he approached me, he threw away his mask, gloves and even the shoes he was wearing, and climbed into the car barefoot.

We drove for many hours, well beyond the outskirts of the city to finally stop at a train station in a small town located in the middle of nowhere. He boarded one of the coaches of a goods train and simply lay on his back as the train began its departure. I could see a couple of scalpels jutting out of his pocket. God only knows the kind of havoc he was about to wreak in some remote corner of America.

Then there was a case where I dropped different people in the same farmland one at a time, over a period of five days. They dressed themselves as cowboy; a Red Indian, a confederate soldier and an African American slave respectively, while the last one turned up as a former US President.

Every time I arrived at the farm with a new passenger, I found the ones already assembled there huddled around a large bonfire. They sat in silence as they patiently waited for all members to arrive.  The moment George Washington set foot on the farm, the guns were out for what would be a duel to death.

I often woke up in middle of the night pondering what fate eventually befell the passengers who travelled in my car. I guess I could simply chalk it down to fear over my own wellbeing and whether I too might meet a similar end. I mean how long before one of these passengers see me as their target? Or what would happen to me once this month long gig was up? Would I become expendable and face the same grim fate as those I had driven?

So, I regularly scanned the news looking for any information available on my passengers. But going down that rabbit hole only unearthed more questions to which I had no answers.

In some cases, the people involved were apprehended and imprisoned. For instance, the clown was eventually caught and thrown into jail after being involved in more than half a dozen brawls around the city. But what made him quit his high profile attorney job in the UK and move here to the city in the first place?  

Then there were cases where the passengers didn’t even make it through the night. I learned from the news that the man with the sword was apprehended by the public and subjected to street justice, where one of the protestors disarmed him and used his own sword to drive it through his heart like a stake.

When the body of the woman dressed as a bird was recovered from the river, there were also separate news reports of pigeons dying of poisoning at multiple locations.

I also learned from the news that the man dressed as batman was a stunt double in the film industry. The police were still following leads about a possible getaway driver from the scene, but eyewitness accounts so far proved to be contradictory and unsatisfactory.  Camera footages at the site also proved inconclusive.

The owner of a farmland called the police when he found bodies in his farm following his return from vacation. The police closed the case citing it as a ritual killing leading to the death of all four involved. But I was the only one who knew there was a fifth person at the scene. The Red Indian had obviously survived and he was in the wind now.  And so was the surgeon who boarded the train. I could not find any information about him.

As the days turned to weeks, I had become accustomed to any and all kind of unpredictability from my passengers. But I kept stacking up the tickets as time went by.

The initial anger that I had nursed in me, had died down by this point and I simply became numb and hollow from the inside. All I could think of was to get through with this ordeal and get back to my regular life. I still hoped that would be a possibility for me.

And the last day finally did arrive, where I would chauffeur my 30^th and hopefully last customer of this month-long nightmare. I was already sitting in my car with my eyes closed, holding my phone and it buzzed as usual at 7:00 PM. Once I figured out my new destination, I started the car and braced myself for a final ride wondering what was in store.

When I reached the Guggenheim museum, I could see a small crowd of people returning from a party. The attendees, a mix of men and women spanning various ages, were impeccably dressed in fashionable attire, and I wondered how I would be able to pick my passenger for the night.

Amidst the sea of faces, a young woman in a vibrant red dress caught my eye. An elegant pearl necklace adorned around her neck, capturing the subtle glow of streetlights, and her expressive eyes suggested a depth of mystery to her. Her artfully arranged hair added to her allure, and a ring on her finger, likely a ruby, added a touch of opulence to her already captivating presence.

I started the car and slowly drove to the point where she was standing. Our eyes met and she instantly broke into a warm smile.

"Hi Mathew," she said, gesturing at me to remain seated as she settled into the car, taking the seat next to mine. She retrieved a gold ticket from her clutch, placed it on the screen, and leaned back while launching into a smile again as she looked at me.

I gazed straight ahead, and started to drive without acknowledging her.

"Fine," she said, remaining unfazed by my stoic response as she began fixing her makeup. “We anyway have a long night ahead of us. You can take your time to get to know me if you want.”

“My name is Pamela by the way. And you can call me Pam, when you become increasingly fond of me” she added, giggling.

I ignored her comment and drove in silence for the next 20 minutes, but my heart slowly started to flutter again when I became increasingly familiar with the route I was on.

I realized we were driving straight back to Mr Devlin’s hotel.  As the navigation system beeped, I brought the car to a stop, and the new Trident Regency came into view, located just a few meters away.

When she saw the look of confusion on my face, Pamela quickly responded, “You are my date for tonight Mathew. Didn’t you know?” she asked with an air of innocence.

“No Ms Pamela. That can’t be right. I am only a chauffeur. This was my last day on the job,” I said, a little lost for words as I tried to process the unexpected turn of events.

Pamela flashed a mischievous smile and casually continued, "Well, Matt, then let's make your last day a memorable one, shall we?"

“Now get going. We can’t be late” she said, looking into a compact mirror while adjusting her hair even as I sat still in my seat.

“Come on Matt. Go and check your trunk!” she urged, a sense of urgency in her tone.

I immediately felt a lump form in my throat when I heard those words and it reminded of what happened at my friend Eric’s safe.

For a second, I instantly worried about my kid but I had been following along with all the rules. When I looked at Pamela, her expression was unreadable but I saw no malice in her.

I got down from the car and slowly approached the trunk uncertain of what awaited me. Upon opening it, I discovered a new tuxedo, neatly folded in packing paper.

Reluctantly, I tried it on and to my surprise, found it to be a perfect fit, even earning a nod of approval from Pamela herself.

She quickly leaned in closer to fix my hair at the sides, and then wrapped her arm around mine, causing me to flinch slightly.

“What is it, Matty? Haven’t you ever felt a woman’s touch before?” she asked, looking me in the eye with a mischievous glint in her voice.

Well, she’s not entirely wrong.

I haven’t been with another woman since Luke’s mother died at childbirth. Life got in the way I guess. But I hardly doubt unsatiated lust as a factor is at play here, when compared to all the events that transpired over the last one month.

Observing me getting lost in my thoughts, Pamela gently nudged me in the ribs “hey don’t lose out on me Matt. The night is not going to be short on excitement. I promise.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that," I said, nodding in acknowledgement.

“Excellent!” she replied excitedly, as the two of us climbed the stairs to enter through the doors of the Trident Regency.

This was my first time setting foot inside the hotel, and my initial impression was a dominance of the color red. My eyes immediately darted toward a sharp-looking Trident logo on the reception wall, while the expansive lobby boasted gleaming red Italian marbles, creating an atmosphere of sophistication and old-world charm.

Pamela directed me towards the elevator where a peculiar looking figure was already waiting. He sported a hat and a large trench coat, his face concealed by a mask and black goggles. He was standing with a file neatly tucked under his arm.

Once the elevator door opened, we all stepped inside. The display panel revealed that the building had around 50 floors in total. Well 51 actually, the top most floor had no number and was marked ‘D’.

I could see that floors 40 and above were restricted to the general public. Pamela utilized her ruby ring as a key, inserting it into a slot next to the display, and pressed 44. The masked man pressed 41, repeating the process with his own ring.

More and more people entered the lift as it ascended, bringing us all closer together. However, the higher it went, the quicker people vacated it, finally leaving only the 3 of us as we now entered the restricted zone.

The man with the mask stood just inches in front of me. When his floor arrived, he stepped out, turned towards me and Pamela, and bowed once before heading off again.

My attention, though, was more focused on the narrow corridor I saw in front of him. It was filled with hundreds of people dressed just like him, their faces covered, with all of them holding onto a file. They were seated in a row of chairs that stretched farther than the eye could see. Before I knew it, the elevator door closed again.

‘Who are these people? What on earth is this place?’ I began to ask myself.

When the doors opened again, I was looking at a large hall with hundreds of people seated at tables busy playing cards. Pamela seized my arm, leading us into the hall, where the manager promptly escorted us to a pair of vacant seats at a table.

“"Where are we? What's going on?” I asked Pamela, bewildered by the situation.

“We're going to play a round of poker, Matt,” Pamela explained.

“But I don’t have any money,” I responded.

“We don’t use money here, Matt," she replied, and that was when I grasped it for the first time, noticing the gold tickets neatly stacked at every table.

“But I don’t have mine with me now,” I replied.

“Don’t be silly, Matt. What do you think that is?” Pamela asked, smiling and pointing to my right.

To my utter surprise, my stash of gold tickets had magically appeared out of nowhere and was resting on the table in front of me. I could already feel my head spinning, with beads of sweat forming on my forehead, even as we sat in an air conditioned room.

When I pulled out my pocket square from the tuxedo, a small slip of paper fell onto my lap. I picked it up and opened it."

The message read – ‘Don’t spend the tickets’.

The note also caught Pamela's attention as she grabbed it from my hand, and I saw her eyes widening in surprise as well.

Before she could utter another word, I abruptly stood up from my seat and dashed toward the hall's entrance.

Once inside the elevator, I started pressing the buttons for the lower floors, and realized the ring was needed for activation.

Pamela arrived at the elevator entrance with a couple of security guards by her side. She had an annoyed look on her face and was about to direct her guards at me.

Just then, I noticed a button lighting up on the display marked 'D,' the topmost floor of the building. Pamela noticed this too, from the display on the outside.

As the doors sealed shut, I caught a curious smile on her face, prompting her to signal her guards to stand down, while a shiver ran down my spine, leaving that as my last image of her.

When the elevator reached the final floor, a cold gust of air welcomed me from a dimly lit corridor. Small pots of fire lined either side, barely allowing me to see more than 10 feet ahead. Stepping cautiously onto the corridor, the pots automatically began to ignite as I slowly moved, illuminating the path before me.

Then the temperature began to rapidly change as I continued to walk ahead. The chill I felt at the beginning was now replaced by a hot breeze, and I could already feel the back of my shirt sticking to my skin.

Finally, I stood before a grand entrance, its massive doors adorned with large ominous looking goat carvings. The doors then suddenly opened on their own, and I took a deep breath before deciding to step inside.

I felt an unsettling aura envelop me as soon as I set foot inside.

Fires raged against the walls, as they ebbed and flowed in a rhythmic fashion, lending the place an unnatural crimson glow.

At the center of the chamber, I saw Mr Devlin sitting on a large throne, his tail gracefully mimicking the dance of the flames around him.

Above the throne, a pentagram symbol with a goat's head embedded within, hung ominously.

Mr Devlin looked very different from what I had seen last of him. The heavy set frame with the salt and pepper hair was gone.

Instead, the one sitting in front of me looked like an incarnate of the devil himself.

Bald, with fiery red skin and menacing horns that adorned his head, he exuded an otherworldly presence. With a slender frame and a face seemingly untouched by the passage of time, he looked to have stopped aging at 30.

The devil's piercing gaze met mine, while a chilling silence gripped the room.

"Greetings, Mathew. What a delightful surprise," Mr. Devlin's voice cut through the crackling of the flames. “It’s not everyday someone stumbles right into the devil’s lair” he said breaking into a smile.

“Why don’t you sit down first?” he continued, pointing his gaze at a chair that appeared magically in front of me.

I hesitated, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach, unsure of what awaited me in the presence of this threatening presence, but I did as I was told.

“What am I doing here Mr Devlin?” I asked, looking around. “Are you really the ….”

“Yes,” he replied back before I could even finish the question. And then he went silent again, intensely staring at me as his tail swished about in the air.

A lot was going on in my mind. There were so many questions I wanted to ask. But I went with the one that would probably offer me the quickest exit out of there.

“Are we through with the month-long deal? Can I leave?” I asked him

“You haven’t spent the tickets yet Mathew,” he said, continuing to stare at me.

“I am not much of a gambling person Mr Devlin. I am just a simple guy. I don’t have much need for the gold tickets either. I am willing to perhaps donate it to someone in the room downstairs, whoever is interested in playing” I ventured, hopefully

“You have to use the gold tickets that have come in your possession Mathew. You can’t simply get rid of them by throwing or giving them away. You need to spend them.”

“But why?” I asked, suddenly interjecting.

“Because they represent your sins Mathew, which is why you can’t get rid of them. But when you spend them, you accept your part in it, showing a willingness to pay a price for your redemption” the devil answered back.

“Redemption?”

“How?”

“By coming to work for me” the devil replied smiling, his tail cutting through the air as it swayed in  a sinuous dance.

The golden glow in his eyes intensified, revealing an otherworldly allure. "Join my ranks, Mathew, and I’ll help you unlock the hidden realms of your soul"

“But I didn’t do anything wrong.” I immediately protested. “I stayed away from all the violence. I was only the driver the entire time. I did as I was told. Even after my friend Eric was killed by your people, I followed through with your orders. I had no choice in the matter in the first place.“

“But you did have a choice in the matter, Mathew! You could have simply chosen not to show up the following day, once I made you the offer. And that would have been the end of that. You used a considerable chunk of your freewill right there, when you decided to drive the clown to the pharmacy.”

“And you could have still walked away when you had parked your car outside my establishment, seriously wondering about the path you were on. And you chose poorly again. What little freewill you had left, you spent it all that night.”

"People don’t realize their situation until they get in over their heads. Yours came when the police precinct went up in flames. You knew a big line had been crossed, and your choice was to take evasive action by fleeing. But you were already knee-deep in this mess by now, and there was no turning back. You had to now see it through to the end," the devil's words resonated, a somber reminder of the irreversible path I had treaded.

I closed my eyes in frustration as a wave of guilt and remorse ripped through every fibre of my being.

It felt like a mirror talking back to me, picking out my shortcomings at will and throwing them back at my face.

“Don’t you think this is entrapment?” I asked him finally, feeling helpless and unable to keep my voice in check.

“I was living my own life without being a threat or bother to society. Why drag innocent people into this web of deceit and lies?” I asked him.

The devil grinned, "Ah, Mathew, innocence is a fragile illusion. I simply offer choices to people; it's their decisions that entrap them."

“Why blame the apple in the tree, when it is your eyes that refused to look away?” he added.

The devil waited for me to respond, sensing that the inner turmoil was reaching its peak, he then continued to speak.

“Come work for me Mathew. Become an agent of my design. You will deliver my message to people when they are ready. You will tread places where light can never hope to reach. Together, we will spread my influence far and wide, casting shadows forever that linger in the hearts of the people we touch. Respond to your calling Mathew, just like how your father did.”

I suddenly looked up at him in shock. “My father….. worked for you?” I asked, unable to suppress the quiver in my voice.

“Your father in fact was the one of the people who boarded the elevator with you.”

“You do remember right he even bowed down before you and Pamela when he got down on his floor?” the devil asked me, while I sat still, open mouthed in shock.

“Who else do you think slipped that little note in your coat? “

“Ah, that was sneaky of him I must admit. Still looking out for his son, I gather.” the devil said with a hint of amusement, relishing the unfolding drama.

“Had it not been for his intervention, you would have spent your tickets by now and come directly under my employment.” the devil concluded.

“What work did my father do for you?” I asked him, for the first time, curiosity overtaking my disbelief.

“Your father works for me as a ledger man. You saw those people down at floor 41 didn’t you? The ones wearing a hat and dressed in a trench coat, with a file tucked under their arms?”

“They are the ones tasked with the responsibility of handing over the file to people, who are ready to embrace their true nature. The file is representative of a ‘ledger’, which is a culmination of an individuals' actions, choices, and the moral debts they accumulate through the course of their lives. So when somebody receives the file, they have reached a point in life where they can no longer maintain their status quo. They begin their inevitable descent into the darker recesses of their own existence.”

“But how will you know if somebody is ready?”

“Look at me Mathew,” the devil said, spreading his hands, his lips curling into an evil smile. ”I have been here since the beginning of time. Do you think I haven’t yet figured out when a person will snap?”

“The real question though is, are you ready to take on the role you are destined for? I mean you have already been working with your father in tandem, while serving this establishment.

“Working with my father? What do you mean?”

The devil chuckled before continuing to speak.

“Who do you think acted as the ledger man while approaching the clown or the woman dressed as a bird or the surgeon or every other person you chauffeured the past one month? It was your own dad Mathew.”

“Both father and son have been working together to propel individuals to embrace their own destiny, to bring them on the brink of self-awareness.”

“While the father showed them the mirror to help break the walls around them, his son drove them towards their eventual fate. Beautiful when you think about it, don’t you think?” the devil  mused, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“So you want me to become a ledger man as well?” I asked finally, my voice laced with uncertainty.

“Yes. That is correct. While your father has served me well, he is a mortal at the end of the day. And I am not a tyrant to work him to be bone. He can retire and continue to serve in the afterlife. So it is essential that you fill in his place now.  You are ready Mathew. I can see it.” the devil spoke with a subtle nod of approval.

“Why can’t you hire someone else? Since my father has already served you, why not find a replacement from another family? Why does it have to be me?” I asked him.

“Because your family owes me Mathew. Your great great grandfather Armand Pritchard was a rich Count in Europe who lost all his wealth when he moved to the United States. He struck a deal with me promising 10 generations of Pritchard’s would serve at my feet if I helped him win back his wealth. So you are the fifth in that line Mathew. Your lineage is still only half way through with paying your debts.” the devil replied.

I sat there in shock as the weight of generations-old promises settled heavily on my shoulders. I had been aware that my forefathers were wealthy while my own father grew up poor since his childhood. But my biggest concern was for my own child.

“Does that mean Luke will have to take over from me as well?” I asked the devil, petrified at that prospect.

“Eventually yes. And so will his child, and later his child’s child and so on, until the debt is paid in full,” the devil affirmed, sealing the fate of generations to come.

“No, no, no……no” I began in anguish, my voice breaking under the weight of the revelation. "This can’t be happening. It’s not right to hold an entire lineage hostage to a promise made by someone centuries ago. I can’t let my son too be a part of this.” I said.

“Well your ancestors certainly didn’t mind the money that came their way until they squandered it away again, a second time. You can’t make a deal and then renege on it,” the devil answered back, his voice ice cold.

“But do you think you are being fair here, Mr Devlin? When you are forcing generations of descendants to do your bidding when they have actually had no choice in the matter?”

“Mathew, have you so quickly forgotten how you wound up here?”

“Do you really think you are here solely because of your ancestors? Are you saying you lacked the agency to make different choices?”

“Is that what you feel happened to your father as well, or might later happen to your son?”

I remained silent not knowing how to answer.

“What do you think actually happens when you make a deal with the devil, Mathew?”

“It gives me the opportunity to pursue you relentlessly without anyone running interference. That is the COST you incur Mathew.”

"Let me put it to you this way," he continued, sensing my struggle to make sense of it all.

"Imagine I am a fisherman standing on a boat in the middle of the ocean that is teeming with rich marine life. Among the vast array of fish at my disposal, I seek a particular one—an elusive, prized catch that holds a special significance to me, one that I know is fated to  cross my path.”

“This gives me the freedom to chase it without having to bother about any sort of divine intervention. And I can pursue it to the ends of the earth, knowing full well it is most likely to eventually yield, either to temptation or desperation."

“Are you saying Mr Devlin that God will not watch over people like me? That I am somehow not deserving of his benevolence or that He would not shine a light for me at the end of the tunnel?” I asked, feeling a little lump form around my throat.

“I am saying for people like you, there is only so much light you can handle. Interference does not have to always be a direct act of God. Like for instance, you are involved in a terrible car crash but escape with only minor bruises.”

“No, intervention can also occur in subtler ways, like the blessings of people in your life who make a difference.”

“Such as a father who guides a rebellious son, a mother who nurses her child back to health, a supportive sibling who sticks with you through thick and thin, or a friend who stands up for you against bullies in school. Blessings manifest in various forms.

“But then Mathew, for people like you these blessings are always on short supply. And when they run out, it leaves a gaping hole in heart that light can never hope to fill. It is then that you turn towards me for guidance.”

As the devil's words settled over me like a suffocating fog, a flicker of realization sparked within.

I could sense that he was messing with my head in an effort to get me to toe his line.

At the same time, my mind was trying to conjure solutions to evade the same fate.

'There must be a way out of this,' I kept thinking to myself. The thought of passing this burden onto my son simply filled me with dread.

Perhaps I could flee with Luke whenever I get the chance and seek refuge in a religious place like a Church which could shield us from the Devil's influence.

While I furiously mulled on the future course of action in silence, the devil resumed speaking again.

“Mathew, you do realize that you are free to leave right? As long as you don’t spend the tickets, I will not touch you. But do remember this, every little plan you are hatching in your head right now, has already been tried before by others. So if you feel you need more time to figure this out, go ahead.”

“But keep in mind there will always come a moment, where you will eventually lay your hands on that tickets yourself. You can run and hide wherever you wish, but the tickets will continue to hang around your neck like an albatross.”

“Maybe you find refuge in another place by running away, but everybody there will eventually come to know you own something of value and that will put a permanent target on your back.”

“Or maybe in the future, there is an injury to you or Luke, and you finally decide to pawn the ticket because you urgently need money for surgery. Or maybe Luke develops a drug problem and decides to use the ticket to fund his habit. I could go on but you get the gist,” the devil warned with a malevolent grin.

“For better or worse, due to your dad’s intervention, you are sitting here right now in a position to negotiate your fate. Why not try and make the best use of it?” he asked me, finally.

“I cannot abandon my child, Mr. Devlin, not when I find he is destined to eventually end up like me. I have a duty to protect his freedom, even if that means fighting a losing battle,” I said, crestfallen but with my voice resolute and filled with conviction.

For the first time in my life, I began to appreciate the choices my father was confronted with and the sacrifices he had to make to honor his obligations.

The devil regarded me with subtle amusement, silently gauging both my determination and the inner turmoil I grappled with.

In that silent moment of acknowledgment, it became evident that the devil fully comprehended the challenges I was prepared to face for the well-being of my child.

“Ok Mathew, maybe there is an alternative to this impasse,” the devil finally suggested. “But I am afraid you are not going to like it.”

“Mr Devlin. I am prepared to do whatever it takes to ensure my child has a shot at a normal life, even if it means giving up my own,” I stated resolutely.

The devil's horns suddenly turned red-hot as he let out a wave of laughter that echoed through the entire chamber.

Meanwhile, the flames licking the walls behind him surged in intensity.

A sudden ring of fire ignited around my legs, spreading rapidly to my feet and started crawling up my body. I screamed in agonizing pain while the devil continued to laugh in the distance. And then I saw the fire consume me whole as my entire body went up in flames.

When I opened my eyes, I realized I was sprawled on the couch in the living hall of my own apartment. As I wiped the beads of sweat away from my forehead, I noticed I was still dressed in last night’s tuxedo. So, the whole thing obviously was not a dream, but I still couldn’t remember how I got back home.

Luke was sitting in a nearby chair, watching his favorite show while busy munching on cereal. I got up from the couch and experienced a sense of disorientation lingering as I tried to piece together the events of the previous night. But deep down, my conscience was troubled, and I couldn’t yet figure out why.

I walked to my room and opened the closet to check for the gold tickets. They were no longer there.

At that very moment, I heard the unmistakable sound of a vehicle pulling up in the driveway. I walked over to the window to take a look and saw a large red limousine parked at the entrance of my apartment building. My heart began to race immediately, this was the same type of car that took dad away years ago and they were probably here for me now.

I made Luke get up from his seat and ordered him to stay put in his room. Soon after, the doorbell rang.

I approached the door, glanced through the peephole, and then proceeded to open it.

Henry Pritchard was standing at the entrance, wearing a hat and dressed in a trench coat with a file tucked under his arm.

“Hello Father”, I said looking at him. He had removed his goggles and his mask was down to his chin, a tear trickling down his eye as he looked in pain. I could see that my dad was here on an official visit.

Seeing my dad in person after all these years, the memories of last night all came flooding back. I began to recollect everything, including the deal that was struck with the devil.

“Is that for me?” I asked, pointing to the ledger in his hand.

“You should have waited, son. We could have figured out something else.” he said, his voice expressing both concern and lament.

While I knew my dad was looking out for my best, I wondered what other alternative was there.

I then simply leaned in to hug him for the first time in years and he embraced me back, bringing a wave of relief to my already overwhelmed emotions

“Is this your last assignment?” I asked him, and he nodded in acknowledgement.

‘Good. Because that was part of the deal’ I said to myself in silence.

Our eyes then immediately shifted to Luke’s room, where the little boy was peeking from behind his door wondering what was unfolding in the living room.

“Come here boy, say hello to your grandpa”, I said looking at him.

As dad lifted Luke and gave his grandson a tight hug, I took away the ledger from his hand and sat down on a couch nearby to take a look.

When I opened it, all I found was a gold ticket inside.

I took it in my hand, and watched my reflection appear alongside a set of numbers and a date, before dissolving into nothingness.

“So I have around 72 hours?” I asked, pointing the card at dad. He nodded in silent affirmation while Luke was busy playing with his goggles.

I took a deep long breath and finally replied, "All right then. Let’s make the best use of the time we have left."

We spent the entire day outdoors, ensuring we gave Luke the best possible memories to last a lifetime. Dad and I took him to see a show by the Blue Man Group, where three blue-colored bald men enthralled the audience with their music, comic skits, and energetic performances.

Our ferry ride to Staten Island turned into a photo-filled escapade, capturing panoramic views of Manhattan with the three of us striking all kinds of silly poses together. This was followed by a stop at Lombardi’s, Luke’s favorite pizza joint.

The next day, we started with a trip to Central Park, where Luke enjoyed a ride on the famous carousel and we all took a relaxing rowboat ride on the lake. Afterwards, we headed to the American Museum of Natural History.

I had signed up Luke and Dad to take part in a scavenger hunt at the venue, and the two of them had a blast as they spent the next couple of hours poring over clues, excitedly exploring exhibits, and discovering hidden treasures throughout the museum.

I stayed in the background, observing Luke form a bond with his grandad, their laughter and teamwork filling me with a sense of warmth and relief at the same time.

Later that evening, we went to Broadway to see The Lion King, and the joy on Luke’s face as he watched the performance was priceless. By the time we returned home, everyone was exhausted, and Luke had already fallen asleep.

The day before I was to leave, we spent the morning playing board games while ordering in.

A little after lunch time, I received a text from one of my colleagues at the rental agency whom I had been waiting to hear from all morning. I called out to Luke and told him we were going out for a little drive and told him to get quickly dressed.

When we arrived at the stadium, Luke had a puzzled look on his face.

“Do we have a game scheduled today dad?”, he asked me as we stepped down from the car and walked towards the stadium.

My friend and colleague from work, was waiting at the entrance and escorted us inside and I saw Luke’s jaw drop when he saw his soccer idol Messi  undergoing a training session on the field.

As we took a couple of seats in the stands, we saw Messi execute his signature moves and interact with his Miami teammates. Luke’s eyes were wide with awe and admiration. The entire experience was surreal for him, and he could hardly contain his excitement.

After the practice session, my colleague arranged for us to meet Messi, and Luke got the chance to take a photo and get an autograph from his hero. His face lit up like a 100 watt bulb when Messi placed his hand on his shoulder for the photo.

On our drive back home, I gently explained to Luke that I would be traveling to Europe for work. I told him it would only be for a month and there was nothing for him to worry about. "Grandpa will take good care of you till I get back," I reassured him.

Luke nodded subconsciously, his eyes still glued to the soccer ball that Messi had signed for him. He rolled it gently in his hands, a small smile playing on his lips as he traced the autograph with his fingers. I have never seen the kid so happy in his life.

In the evening, I had a private chat with dad regarding Luke, about how to manage him in my absence. I explained to him how I had coped during the difficult periods in my childhood, hoping that it would give him some insight on how to handle Luke if he started to act out.

Dad was particularly upset about the path I had chosen but there was nothing he could do to change it now. The two of us had a few shots of whiskey, to take away the edge and that did provide some relief. It was also my first adult moment with dad. So that’s a memory to keep.

The following day, the three of us left for Luke’s soccer practice in the evening. As Dad and I sat in the stands watching him train, a BMW car arrived at the venue, catching my immediate attention.

I hugged Dad one last time, and he had a hard time letting go of me. I called out to Luke, informing him that I was headed for the airport and waved goodbye. He rushed towards me and gave me a big hug before running back to his field to resume training.

I picked up my shoulder bag and headed towards the waiting car. The driver was around my age and I could deduce that this was not his first trip.

So, he definitely did have an inkling of what to expect. I could sense the same emotions in him that I experienced when I took on the job. I simply gave him my gold card and he placed it on the screen and started driving. I looked at Luke and dad one last time before the driver turned the corner and hit the main road.

Seated in the backseat, my mind began to recollect the conversation I had with the devil; the details of that encounter played in my head like a haunting melody. As the car moved through the city, I could already see the impact my decision would have on the family, knowing that Luke would struggle for many years and have difficulty adjusting to the public perception of his father.

The conversation towards the end was perhaps the most haunting of all when the devil started to make clear the expectations he had of me if I wanted to relieve my family of the generational burden. That part played itself over and over again in my head hundreds of times over the last couple of days.

The car began to slow down as it reached the destination. Before leaving, I locked eyes with the driver and uttered, "Best of luck."

A look of surprise flashed in his eyes, his demeanour swiftly softening as he realized someone understood the weight he carried. I could see that he had a hundred questions he wanted to ask me, but I was already out the door with my bag hung over my shoulder and made my way into the building.

As I climbed the stairs, I removed my jacket and cap from the bag and put it on. I could hear the devil utter those final words again and again, it literally forming an imprint on my mind.

“Ok Mathew, maybe there is an alternative to this impasse.”

“But I am afraid you are not going to like it.”

“Mr Devlin. I am prepared to do whatever it takes to ensure my son has a shot at a normal life, even if it means giving up my own”

“You are ready to give your life to save your son but are you ready to take a life for him?” the devil asked me

“Yes,” I said with reluctance.

“The more heinous the crime, the better protected your son will be from coming under my employment,” the devil finally spoke

.

I reached the office of my boss Gary Mehicus and opened the door to find him busy on the phone.

His face immediately lit up when he saw me dressed in the autographed baseball jersey and cap he had gifted me for my birthday as a youngster. I waited for him to finish speaking.

“Did you and Luke catch a game today?” he asked me, looking curious as he put his phone down.

“The more heinous the crime, the better protected your son will be from coming under my employment.”

“What are you talking about Matt?” Gary asked me looking puzzled.

I repeated the exact words the devil had told me during our meeting.

While he still didn’t understand, I saw my godfather’s face turn pale when he noticed me removing a kitchen knife from my jacket and locking the door behind me.

A Few Years Later

Luke Pritchard entered the hospital with his ten-year-old son, Sam, holding a bouquet of flowers he wanted to give to a patient. When they reached the patient's room, Luke knocked on the door a couple of times before entering.

“Please come in,” a voice said from within the room.

An old man lay on the bed with both his legs heavily bandaged. He had been injured in an accident while attempting to save Sam, who had tried to cross the road without paying attention. The patient managed to save Sam in the nick of time but was struck by a motorcyclist, resulting in fractures in both his legs.

“Good morning. How are you doing today?” Luke asked as he entered the room with Sam by his side.

“Much better, Luke. Thank you,” the old man said.

The patient then looked at the boy and smiled. “How are you doing, young man?” he asked.

“Fine, sir. I am very sorry about what happened to you, sir,” Sam said, looking down and appearing very remorseful.

“Forget it, my child. I am just relieved you are alright,” Mr. Devlin replied, his face beaming.

Luke then placed the bouquet of flowers in Sam's hands and gently nudged him to give them to the patient. Sam moved forward and gingerly presented the flowers to Mr. Devlin, who accepted them with grace. He gave the young boy a hug and smiled warmly at him.

Luke had been visiting Mr. Devlin every day for the past week since the accident happened. The two men had grown close during these visits, opening up to each other about the challenges in their own personal lives. This was the first time since the accident that Luke brought Sam along with him so that he could apologize in person.

Mr. Devlin looked at Sam, who sat on a little stool next to his bed. “So, what are you wearing, my child? Are you a baseball fan?” he asked.

“Chip off the old block, eh?” he asked Luke, pointing at Sam’s jersey.

“Actually, he has taken after his grandfather. He was a big baseball fan,” Luke replied.

“Interesting... Is he the one you said is currently serving a life sentence in prison?” Mr. Devlin asked delicately.

“Yes, Mr. Devlin,” Luke replied, with a trace of sadness in his voice.

They eventually changed the subject and went on to talk about other things for the next half hour.

When Luke finally got up to leave, he asked, “Mr. Devlin, would it be okay if the three of us took a picture together? I would like to send a copy to my dad. I think he would love to see a picture of the man who saved his grandkid.”

“Of course, Luke, I would absolutely love that,” Thomas Devlin replied, breaking into a smile.