The Enigma’s Anomaly

Pants. Pants are a good idea. Maybe no time for underwear, but pants.

I shake Gerard awake quickly and put a finger to my lips for him to be quiet. He looks lost for a moment and watches me get up and grab the only heavy object I can find, which is a glass paperweight on the nightstand.

“Frank-” more movement from outside makes Gerard shut up. His eyes widen as he realizes what’s going on.

Honestly, I’ve never snuck up on someone sneaking up on someone before. It seems like it should be pretty easy because he thinks I don’t know he’s sneaking up on me, but really I do know he’s sneaking up on me, so I can turn the tables on him and sneak up on him sneaking up on me.

Alright, well I’ve got to go now while I still have the upper hand. I hold out a hand for Gerard to stay there, but he looks at me like I’m mad. I already knew he was stubborn, but damn is he layering it on pretty heavily.

I roll my eyes, and frown. I can tell that whoever is out there is right out there. Probably on the other side of the door if I’m not mistaken.

I’ve always kind of wanted to hit someone with a door, so I’m killing two birds with one stone. I grab the handle and turn it slowly, waiting for whoever is on the other side to grab ahold of it.

I feel the door being subtly tugged open so I go for it and wham it open. A painful sounding thud follows and I smirk, then walk out to look at the guy who’s just fallen to the ground.

“Oh I’m sorry I didn’t see you there,” I say to him. His face is covered, but I’d recognize that ski mask anywhere. It’s the Slav who helped kidnap me! Señor balaclava! I’ve been yearning for this reunion for a while now, and finally I have my chance.

“Yeats I presume,” I say to him and bend down to hold him to the ground with my knee. “You know I read some of your poetry in eighth grade and I have to say, you’re a little wordy. Lots of fifty-cent words.”

The guy somehow looks unamused through a ski mask.

I hear the door creak behind me and Gerard peeks out. He’s a little underdressed given the occasion, with only boxers, but I don’t say anything, it would be rude.

“Hey Gerard,” I say and he waves back at me. Señor balaclava grabs at me and tries to pull me off of him, but he’s not in a good position right now. I look around and see that his gun fell to the ground.

“Hey Gerard, could you hand me that gun?” I ask him. Gerard looks stunned for a moment, but steps over to it and then pick the gun up like it’s a bomb.

“Oh grow up, it’s on safety!” I say taking it from him. It’s not the kind of gun I’d use, but at least señor balaclava thought enough to put a silencer on it.

“You’re not going to kill him are you?” Gerard asks me.

“What? No, probably not,” I say and look down at him. “Would you mind calling the police, maybe?”

Gerard makes a sound, and says, “Right, of course. Sorry.”

I grab the guy by the collar of his shirt and slam his head into the floor so that maybe he’ll stop struggling a little bit.

Gerard walks into the kitchen and I look back at the guy trying to escape beneath me. I want to know who he is though so I pull the ski mask off of him to study the assassin who replaced me.

He’s not very good looking, and I’ve never seen him before. His hair is strawberry blond with specks of grey matted in. His face is thin and red from either adrenaline or lack of oxygen due to my knee pressed into his clavicle.

“Kind of an ugly little bastard aren’t you?” I mock, and he looks at me enraged.

“On their way,” Gerard shouts.

I turn to him and give him a thumbs up after he says that, which gives señor balaclava an opportunity to try and overthrow me.

He’s not incredibly successful, but he does manage to topple me from him, and scramble to his feet. I watch him scamper away, but he looks dizzy from when I hit him.

Gerard makes a shrieking noise, but I fire a warning shot at the wall next to señor balaclava which makes him halt in his place.

“Turn around!” I tell him, and señor balaclava does, which brings him face to face with me, but I’m still several yards away.

“Sorry about your wall Gerard,” I say, and walk closer to señor balaclava who is still frozen in place, having realized that I still have his gun.

“Huh? Oh, ‘S okay,” Gerard says, and señor balaclava tries to inch away from me.

“I will kill you,” I tell him, “and trust me, I am a very good shot.”

He makes a face that says ‘prove it’ and I smile at him.

I’m not going to get anywhere with him if he’s dead so I aim for the right knee cap. That’s going to really fucking hurt and he won’t be getting away like that. When the police ask, I can plead self-defense, because after all, that’s all it really is.

I point the gun at him and fire before he even realizes I’m not kidding. The noise is quiet due to the silencer, and Gerard only realizes what’s happened when the guy screams out.

“Frank!” he squeals.

“Don’t worry, he’s not dead,” I say and walk over to him. He’s fallen to the floor, and I think that, regrettably, he’s going to leave a bloodstain in Gerard’s nice rug.

“Hello again,” I say looking at him, and I pull him onto his feet, slamming him into the wall. He’s slouching because of the bullet that just shattered his knee, so I don’t look nearly as short as I am.

“Who hired you to kill Gerard?” I ask, gripping his shirt so tight that it’s clawing at the back of his neck.

“Frank, I called the police, just let them handle it!” Gerard begs, but I can’t let this lead go. Not now. I need to know who wanted me to kill him.

“Who hired you?” I ask again. The man shakes his head and he looks actually scared. He should be. He has no idea who he’s dealing with, but if he did he’d tell me everything. If he knew who I was, he’d tell me where the lost city of gold is and his social security number.

I push him to the ground and he makes a painful sound when he hits his head against the hard floor, but I don’t let up. I just pin him down, and look at him fiercely.

I grab his wrist firmly in my own. I know how to make people squirm, never make that mistake, I just choose not to.

“Who hired you? You’ve got to understand that I’m not fucking around here. I will kill you, and I won’t regret it in the slightest,” I say, and I apply pressure. He gulps and I can tell that he’s trying to keep himself from crying out.

“I’m going to ask you one more time, or you’re going to have to explain to the police how you broke every single one of your fingers when were you breaking in here,” I warn him. I will break his fingers. That’s no lie.

“You couldn’t,” he says and I detect that Slovak accent.

“Watch me,” I reply, and I do something I’m not so proud of. I break that little fucker’s pinky finger easily. I feel the bone crack, and it’s chilling, but I don’t regret it. This time he can’t stop from screaming, and my gaze doesn’t falter the tiniest bit. I can feel Gerard’s eyes at my back and he’s probably just as scared of me as this guy is, but I don’t stop.

“Now! Tell me. Now.”

“No,” he spits at me.

Finger two goes down. This time I choose his pointer finger. That’s going to be inconvenient for him, so I hope he appreciates my determination.

“Ah!” He screams loudly.

“You have eight more chances, you really want me to get that far?” I advise.

“Frank! Stop,” Gerard says, and he puts his hand on my shoulder, but I shrug it away.

“The cops can’t convince him to spill the same way I can. Not under the law that is,” I answer. “And this... well this is just self-defense. Or at least we can tell the police it was.”

The guy says nothing, but he looks ready to murder me in Gerard’s place.

“You have something to say to me?” I ask. He doesn’t move or do anything, he just glares back at me.

“Fine, have it your way,” I say and I grab his ring finger, but I do so slow enough to allow him to reconsider.

He does, because before I can snap the finger he says, “Wait! Fine. Banks. It was Banks, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

“Banks?” I ask, “Is that a name, or what?

“Yes,” he says, “Banks.”

I turn my head to look over my shoulder at Gerard, “that name mean anything to you?”

To my surprise, he nods. Gerard looks frightened. I have no idea who this Banks person is, but Gerard looks completely comprehensive of our situation now.

I see some sort of epiphany in his eyes, like someone just told him the secret of the universe. I can’t help but wonder what he hasn’t told me. Whoever the hell this Banks guy is, Gerard knows, and he’s terrified of it. He looks more scared knowing who’s behind this all then he did not knowing. Gerard must have taken some Claritin because he most certainly can see clearly now.

“Banks,” I repeat, and señor balaclava wriggles underneath me, but I don’t know where he intends to go with a broken knee cap. I suppose he could hop on one foot, but he’s not going to get very far. Maybe crawl, but that would put a strain on his fingers.

“Alright then,” I say, hearing police sirens coming in our general direction. “Now unless you want a broken arm as well, you’re going to tell the police everything you know. Got it?”

Señor balaclava says nothing, so I grab his hand and hold is finger dangerously again until his eyes widen again in panic.

“Fine!” he says urgently.

I smack him on the face dotingly, “good boy.”