Welcome to Flashes of Sanity! Your daily dose of flash fiction on 500 words or less.
Today’s entry: Corporate King
Donald turned off the TV. It was all riots now.
”Sinners never die…” The words lingered on Donald’s lips. It meant so much. ”All sinners returns.”
The meaning behind it was too much for him to handle right now. Still, it was all he could think about. All his enemies are back. Every soul in hell got out. Every one that had been tortured for their sins.
And while he had suffered, the world went on like normal. SurgeRay was not his anymore. It was no one’s.
The tangled web would be even messier before it got solved. That Donald was sure about.
He sipped his bedtime coffee. The radio on his desk cracked as the guard reconnected.
”Sir, you have guests.”
”Let them in.” Donald turned in his chair towards a wall with map. This was once an office at the top floor with a view over the whole city. Now it was an apartment in shadiest part of the suburbs. It was the trade one had to accept to stay in the game.
A knock on the door. Then the hinges complaining as the guests didn’t wait for a signal to come in.
“Welcome,” Donald said and continued scanning the map. “Please make yourself at home.”
“Make yourself at home, more like feel imprisoned.”
Donald ignored the grumpy driver. “Did you find them?”
“Yes, we also found some hitchhikers.”
“You did?” Donald turned to look at the group now filling his office and bedroom.
The Reviewer, his apprentice and his driver he recognized. Then it was the teenage girl he had seen pictures of. Her rallying up the whole criminal underworld was still quite a surprise. The Reviewer had been firm on her joining their squad. Then it was Carl Messinger. Him Donald had requested. The last three he did not recognize. Three with their heads cracked.
“And who are your hitchhikers?”
“They are Donny, Brutal Joe and Cat-scratch Bill. Bella’s closest circle before the mayhem scattered her gang.”
“And where is Bella?”
The one Donald guessed was Donny looked up. “She is dead…”
“She is?” Donald stopped his coffee cup by his lips. “A saint running a crime gang, how intriguing.”
Donald turned to Carl Messinger, he was bruised and blood stained, just as Donna.
“I think you know why you are here,” he said.
“I have guesses,” Carl said. “But why do you think I would align myself with you?”
“Because, when hell breaks loose for real, I will be the best option you get. This hell will be worse than the one below your feet, and I want to believe you can guess how bad that can be. And I will get you a better suit.”
Carl looked at the map.
“I want to chose my suit,” he said. “I have seen what you wear and it got too many edges.”
“I can manage that…” Donald turned back to the map.
Go time, he thought and sipped the last of the black elixir.
Copyright © David B. Johansson 2021