Read Part Two: A Villain’s Beginning!
Chicago — The Metropolitan Correctional Center, 8.15PM
The sun is setting on another day in Chicago. It throws away shadows of the cityscape as it drops, like a man returning from the store and emptying his pockets of receipts. It’s a shot that will look great in the movie. The Metropolitan Correctional Center is on lockdown. There are lights and alarms. WHINE! FLASH! Like that.
“Why the hell did they even send him here? Washington can take care of its own damn problems!”
“Ours is not to reason why, governor,” says the slimmer man. He doesn’t have a title but he looks like he’s educated. That’s why he quotes poetry, and so that the slightly better read members of the audience can get what he’s referring to and feel smart even though it’s a really common poem.
The two men walk down the corridor of the high security area. It’s painted on the wall. “HIGH SECURITY.” Guards huddle on the floor crying or shaking themselves. They reach a cell with the door open and look inside. There’s a hole in the wall. Wind whistles through it.
“Twelve stories up and he just rolled right out,” says the governor.
“People on the ground say he landed on a truck full of baby carriers.”
“We’ve got people scouting the city already. He’s one fat baby, sir.”
People are running and screaming from a shopping mall.
“All units hold back! God knows what he’s doing in there!”
The police have surrounded the mall and are blocking off the exits. People stream out. They keep an eye out for a baby carrier but none appears.
“What’s that smell?” says one cop, pistol drawn and leaning over the bonnet of his car, facing the main entrance of the shopping complex.
“Smells like… no, do you think it could be him?” says the cop kneeling on the ground next to him and peering around the front of the car. They turn and see a baby carrier.
“Drunken baby! Thank God you’re here!”
The baby in the carrier dribbles a little puke down his chin.
“Just the one that we know about. He’s mean though. People say he’s the fattest baby they’ve ever seen. God knows what parents birthed one like that.”
A bubble pops in the sicky-drool.
“The city wouldn’t be the same without you, drunken baby. I wish more babies were willing to stand up and help like you do.”
The two cops turn back to face the door, aiming their guns once again. “What do you think makes him keep going?” says the one kneeling. “The shit he’s seen would break anyone.”
“I don’t pretend to know, son,” says the other, “I just pray to God every night and thank the Lord that he’s still here.”
Cheery music plays inside the mall. It echoes through the empty corridors and is only interrupted by recorded adverts coming out of shops. Shopping bags lie abandoned on the floor. Food kiosks have half served or eaten meals lying by them. A spilt cup of coffee on a walkway drips between the gaps in a railing and into a puddle on the floor below. Splish. Splish. Splish. Like that.
In the centre of it all sits a baby carrier, plump baby legs hanging over the front. Fat baby is in it. The smell of vomit begins to waft through the main hall, and fat baby turns his head.
To his right is another baby carrier, stained in places with bile. Some fresh chunks stick to the sides. A bubble pops on drunken baby’s lips.
Fat baby gurgles.
Drunken baby remains silent.
Fat baby kicks his legs.
Drunken baby vomits a little bit.
Fat baby waves his arms up and down.
Outside, the cops wait.
“I don’t hear anything. What do you think’s happened? You think he met his match?”
“If he has then I don’t know what the fuck we do next.”
“Half the force must be here.”
“More than half.”
“It’s been an hour. We should send somebody in.”
“The tech team is working on the CCTV already.”
“And have we heard anything about what’s happening yet? No. They’re useless. We need some eyes in there.”
Two blocks from the mall sits a CPD van with a satellite dish stuck on its roof. “SURVEILLANCE” is printed on the side. In the back, three people are crowded around a monitor, staring at it.
“What the hell do you see?” yells the governor’s voice from a speaker on the wall.
The screen shows the inside of the shopping mall. Two empty baby carriers lie in the middle, one stained with vomit, the other showing imprints of chubby limbs.
“They were brothers, sir,” says one of the techs. “They were goddamn brothers.”