sniffing out a rat [jude/clay]

outrage
that's it i'm going on a rampage
don't waste my time with any context
i'm gonna ruin all your prospects
i'm gonna pick all your pockets

The moon is a pale whale in the sky, surfacing from the depths of heavy cloud cover and chimney smoke. The white leviathan casts stark shadows across the wet, muddy path that leads from the farmsteads down into Ten's center. Naked trees sway in a skeletal dance as the howling wind forces me to grip the edges of my jacket and pull them around me.

The paper on which I've written my destination flaps wildly in my hand, and I squint in the darkness to make sure of the address. Moving from silo to abandoned wheelcart, I take cover to avoid the Peacekeeper patrols. Curfew prohibits anyone from being outside after 7pm. Their flashlights cut into the night as they moan about how far away their next smoke break is, or argue over shift patterns. I wait for their footsteps to fade before hastily moving on, my worker boots squelching in the thick mud.

The town centre has a far heavier Peacekeeper presence. I'm starting to wish I'd done this in the day, but Clay Sawyer is a hard man to pin down. He was difficult enough to find in the first place - working in a cheese store right under my nose wasn't something I ever expected, nor planned for. It makes things difficult, as I can't get him on his own, or without witnesses in the middle of the day. No, it has to be night, when he closes up shop.

I run and slide into an alleyway, just avoiding an oncoming patrol. Two of then stop and wait as a third Peacekeeper takes a piss against an old tree. I crouch patiently, hoping that they'll pass on soon. If I don't get to the store soon, Sawyer will be long gone, and I'll have missed my chance.

An opportunity opens up and I move again to the next solid cover, a dumpster outside a butchery. More Peacekeepers, a patrol vehicle, and some dogs. Great. I spot the cheese store on the other side of the avenue, but it's difficult to get to without being seen. I was hoping this would all go a lot smoother.

Frustrated, I pick up a rock and look for a window pane. Across from me is a smallish house. Left with no other choice, I arc my arm, throw my shoulder forwards and propel the rock towards the house. The window shatters loudly, and the Peacekeepers are suddenly alert. Once they begin to move towards the house, I dart for the cheese shop.

I try to get a good look inside, but the glass is fogged with condensation that I can't wipe from the outside. I can't hear shit neither, so I move to the front door and try the handle. It's locked. Fuck. He might have gone.

I glance over my shoulder and check that no-one is within earshot, and then knock firmly on the front door.

fury
i am the judge and I'm the jury
it's dog eat dog and I'm a pure breed
i'll work you up into a frenzy
but god this baggage is heavy

outrage
that's it i'm going on a rampage
don't waste my time with any context
i'm gonna ruin all your prospects
i'm gonna pick all your pockets

The distorted voice buzzes in static over the radio of a Peacekeeper. The patrol is too far for me to make out what they are saying, but close enough to see me if I move too suddenly or make any noise. I stand very still next to the front door of the cheese parlour, waiting for the figure inside to move and unlock the entrance to the store.

Just a thin bit of wood between myself and my brother's killer.

My heart is racing, but my breath is steady and my eyes active, searching for movement both inside the shop and outside. I've prepared for this moment for months, waiting for the Detention Centre to release the bastard, watching the newspapers for mentions of his name, for dates and locations. Questioned locals, people linked to the crime, neighbours and store owners, bar staff and lax Peacekeepers. I'm as ready as I possibly can be, and yet when the pale skin of his palm presses onto the glass pane and slowly wipes down a small square of condensation, and I look into his eyes - the eyes of a killer - I'm really not sure if I'm ready at all.

Of course, he doesn't know me, he assumes me a customer. No, he's not that naive to think someone would come to a fucking cheese shop at this hour. No, the look in his eye, he knows I am not here for my daily food shop.

"Can you let me in?" I ask, half-smiling at him - the bastard boy who killed his own father, who murdered my brother. Smiling like he's just another boy on the street. Like a friend.

"I'm caught out of curfew, I don't think I can make it back home without being caught!" I explain innocently, he too will know just how heavy-handed the Peacekeepers can be during this curfew. You can hear people screaming after dark as they're dragged away. Is there any sympathy in this killer, I wonder?

Is there madness behind his eyes? Is he capable of a moment of compassion? I'd like him to give me a chance to find out, just a chance - that's all I need. One split second where he lowers his guide. I smile warmly and nod to the lock, let me in, murderer.

fury
i am the judge and I'm the jury
it's dog eat dog and I'm a pure breed
i'll work you up into a frenzy
but god this baggage is heavy