Jon and Kat were waiting for me as I walked out of the gate. I simply stepped into the car and sprawled out in the back seat.
"How was it?" Jon asked.
"Thouroughly surreal." I replied. "There are no drugs on Earth that could make that whole situation seem any better."
"Who are you and what did you do with my boss?" Kat asked.
"Right now I'm the man in terrible need of a very very large drink." I said. Kat to my astonishment leaned over the back seat of the Aston and handed me a bottle of Bushmills.
"You sir have been far too sober lately." She said.
"True, but unlike our other adventures there seems to be about fuck all of anything that can be done here."
"So, blast the word out like a damn missile strike." Kat said. "After all, the news is allegedly what you do. This guy might die but if enough people read the story."
The bottled opened nicely under my fingers and I tilted it back. Letting the liquid carry my mind into different areas. I had a sneaking suspicion Cole was well and truly fucked and the notion that I couldn't help him made me lose track of the bigger picture. There was a fight to be had, and in the end that was my true calling.
"Okay it's a working night tonight, so Jon no cruising the hotel bar till you've done your homework. And Kat no collecting new servants till we're done gathering our tools." I said and knocked more of the whiskey back.
"Whatcha got in mind?" Jon asked.
"I wanna fuck over a governor, a few judges and get a lawyer dis barred and run out of the country on a rail." Another couple of gulps of whiskey. "Then to top it all off I want to see as many of the parties involved under indictment for felonies."
"How are we going to do that?" Kat asked.
"Research, these guys are all in politics for fucks sake." More whiskey and I felt a smile return. Yeah this wasn't a battle this was a war, and while each week the bad guys were winning a battle to make us all forget our common humanity, each week someone lost a friend or a family member. I needed to show the world the cost of what was happening. Even more I needed them to see the caliber of people who handed life and death like tabs of Molly at a rave.
"These guys have to have fucked over people in their careers, find them. Interview them and report back. Give me every piece of dirt thats been buried in this state."
"In 48 hours?" Kat asked.
"You're a miracle worker. Show me something."
Kat smiled. "I do love a challenge."
We pulled up in front of the hotel. My melancholy now tinged with the desire to smell blood in the water. I was no longer a mere spectator. This, this was the journalism of attachment. A fact driven editorial to show people my disgust and how I got there. Detachment is for the people who don't understand the function of their own minds. Bias is a function of being alive. I just had the guts to own up to it. Do the math to get there and show you my damn work.
I was gonna up end wrecking this damn state and every one in it if I had anything to say about it.
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