Chapter Text
If there are any perks of being homeless, it’s the fact that you are invisible. People don’t notice you – their stares slide off of you, they pretend not to notice you. You’re invisible, a part of this loud and boisterous city, you’re just another stop sign, just another lamp post – not worth paying any attention to. At first it hurt – being unseen, passed on the street without any acknowledgement of your existence. But once you get used to it, you start seeing that it’s not only a bad thing. It’s incredible how many things you can see and witness when you’re a part of the landscape. You’ve seen more personal dramas than you can count: arguments and spats between lovers, tears of joy and sadness, people facing with their fears and problems. Every day brings something new, a new scene to your collection.
Like today for example. You’ve been observing this guy for a few hours now. He’s been sitting in his dark alley since the early evening, patiently waiting for something to happen. Or for someone to appear. He’s someone who’s waiting for answers. You don’t really know why he’s sitting here of all the places: he doesn’t fit here. He’s dressed in a brown suit and a dark trench coat, thick-rimmed glasses are perched on his nose. But it’s not only the clothes that shout ‘I don’t belong here’. He looks like a decent guy, a person with morals. And morals are something this part of London certainly lacks. And the club the guy’s been observing... Well, it’s not like it’s a seedy place, quite the contrary: it’s posh and shiny, all steel and bright neon lights, expensive alcohols and patrons that spend more during one night than an average person earns during a month. No, the club itself isn’t a problem. The people who run and visit it are. Drug dealers, hookers, corrupted politicians, the mob. The police – unless you’re talking about a few policemen who like to snort coke with the gangsters – stay clear away from here. They know there’s nothing they can do about it: in this place law and justice are just another things you can buy.
But the guy here is most definitely not a corrupted politician nor the member of the mob. There’s only one thing he can be – a policeman on a quest for justice. He must know what happens here, and he wants to put a stop to it. Good luck to him. He’s not the first, not the last who thinks about putting an end to this dark stain on the city’s map. It didn’t work in the past, it won’t probably work this time, even though the determined set of the man’s shoulders suggests something else. Maybe he’ll succeed, maybe he’s the one who’ll wipe the dirt and grime from this part of the city.
Suddenly, in the darkness of the alley you notice a new figure slowly approaching the man. The man notices that person as well and even from his hiding behind bins, he can hear the exasperated sigh he lets out.
‘Song. Didn’t I tell you not to come here?’ the man says in a thick Scottish brogue. ‘Go home. I don’t need you here.’
‘And when was the last time I listened to you?’ you hear an amused female voice. ‘But you’re right about one thing: you most certainly don’t need me here. It’s me who needs to be here.’
‘What are you talking about?’ the man asks her. ‘Listen, I appreciate that you’re here. I do. But it’s my job. Someone from my department has been leaking information. And it’s my responsibility to find out who it is. Go home. Get some sleep. Otherwise you’ll be horrible tomorrow.’
‘You still don’t get it, do you?’ the woman quietly says. ‘I guess the fact that you haven’t figured it out is a compliment.’
‘What are you talking about?’ the man responds impatiently, his voice raised. ‘I don’t have time for one of your secrets and ‘guess what?’ games. So either say why you’re here or get out.’
‘Where’s the fun in that?’ she laughs. ‘Think. Use that enormous brain of yours. You’re so proud of it, show me what it’s worth.’
‘River,’ the man nearly growls, ‘right now you’re even more difficult and annoying than usual. And that’s some sort of an achievement. Remind me to reward you tomorrow. With a month worth of night shifts. Now, go home before I decide you could use some work going through the archives and sorting old paperwork.’
‘Oh, shut up,’ she stops his monologue and you can feel that something changed. Her tone is suddenly cold and bristle, it lacks the amusement that was there earlier. ‘You know, if you would just shut your mouth sometimes and looked, really looked at what is around you, we wouldn’t be here now. Still, I shouldn’t complain about it. You just make it easier.’
‘Make what easier?’ the man asks, confusion evident in his voice. ‘Listen, I don’t know what is wrong with you tonight, but let’s forget about it. Let’s just-‘
She moves quickly and purposefully, one step forward, a hand dipping in a pocket of her coat – suddenly the man finds himself with a gun pointed at him. The expression on his face is one of shock and disbelief, mouth slightly agape, eyes flicking from the gun to the woman who holds it.
‘River,’ he whispers. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I think that is pretty obvious,’ she remarks. ‘As for the rest... Well, I kind of just gave you the biggest of spoilers, didn’t I?’
There’s a moment of stunned silence before the man speaks again.
‘No. It can’t... You had no opportunity,’ he says quietly. ‘You couldn’t have. You have no motive. You-‘ he stops. ‘Fuck.’
‘It suddenly makes sense, doesn’t it? The pieces match. And now you’re asking yourself why you didn’t see it all before.’
‘River,’ the man starts again. ‘It doesn’t have to be that way. I am sure that if you cooperate and work with us, it’ll all be fine,’ he takes a step closer to her but stops when her finger tightens on the trigger. ‘Just give me that gun and we’ll work it out.’
‘No,’ is her only answer and before he can take a step back or run, she pulls the trigger. The shot is surprisingly quiet – she must’ve put the silencer on – and the man falls lifelessly to the ground with a dull ‘thud’. She walks slowly to the body on the ground and simply stares at it for a few seconds. Then she turns around to leave.
You let out the breath you didn’t realise you’ve been holding this whole time. You were a witness of a murder, you must do something, call the police, tell them- Suddenly, there’s a still warm muzzle of a gun against your head. You don’t have to look up to know who it is.
The last words you hear are ‘I’m sorry’.
Then everything turns black.