Killing Atlas

John was sitting in the exact same chair the following morning. A newspaper was spread out before him, his brows furrowed as he scanned the articles. His clothes, I’d noticed, looked almost the same; just a pair of jeans and a simple shirt.

I watched him for an hour before I decided to enter the shop again. John had barely moved an inch in that time. I didn’t recall seeing him turn a single page.

He looked up when the bell above the door jingled, his eyes falling to me immediately, as if he’d expected it. Dad’s words were running through my head, stamping my brain as I moved to John’s table. His brows rose, a content smile slithering into his cheeks. Brushing a hand over his significantly tamed hair, he stood to greet me.

“I knew you’d come,” he said, seating himself when I sat opposite.

I myself didn’t know why I bothered to come in, so I couldn’t imagine how he could possibly know. I remained quiet, the tight smile on my face growing more strained.

“Do you want a coffee?” John asked. “Or something to eat?”

“Is there a point to you coming here, when you don’t even touch your order?” I replied, indicating to his untouched coffee. I knew for a fact that it had been sitting before him for just under the hour that he’d been here.

John hesitated only briefly, his eyes flickering between my questioning gaze and his coffee. “I guess, I don’t really like it,” he admitted. “I just come here because I don’t really know where else I’m supposed to be.” Since monitoring the tracking system all night, I knew John wasn’t lying. After our coffee shop meet, he had gone straight home for the remainder of the day.

“What do you expect to find in a coffee shop?” I mused, my brow rising.

John looked at me, his blue eyes burying deeply the way they used to when he was studying me for a weakness. “I found you, didn’t I?”

I refrained from telling him that it was not coincidence.

“Would you like to go for a walk with me?”

His sudden request startled me, and I couldn’t help but pause. Of course I should say no. Would say no. I hadn’t come to play buddies with Atlas. I had a job to do. I chanced a glance around the coffee shop, pulling my beanie tightly over my hair. It was stupid of me to come back, but that’s just what Atlas did to me. He made me reckless. It was too dangerous to be here, even as invisible as I’d made myself to be.

Atlas had been a ghost, but he had nothing on me.

The way I dressed. The way I moved. The way I talked. It was all so ordinary. I could move through a room and no one would notice. Atlas had never had such an advantage. He’d been vain. Ridiculously so. Atlas was a ghost, but only when he wanted to be. Now, he drew all attention to us. I was noticed, and that had made the game that much more dangerous.

I shook my head, much to the delight of a girl sitting nearby. She didn’t particularly pay me attention as she giggled shyly with her friend. But John was well within her sights.

It was a mistake to come inside.

I disappeared as quickly as I had appeared, the memory of my presence wiped from all those socialising in the small café. All but one.

“I don’t really know what I did,” John offered as he sought to catch up with me, “but I’d really appreciate if you would help me remember who I am.”

I glanced sideways at him, weaving around the busy workers on their lunch break. I’d intended to find him later, perhaps catch him at his apartment, but his insistence might prove to be useful.

“I don’t know who you are,” I replied. “Not anymore.”

We were silent for a while as we headed towards the gated park. I hadn’t been there before, but I had driven past plenty of times. I often wondered whether I could have ever been like the children that ran happily after each other. Or maybe I could have had a dog, and taken him for walks. Amy had that life. Dad had willingly given mother the daughter she always wanted. He had me, after all.

“Well could you tell me my name?” John asked. “If I had that, the police could help track down my past.”

I pondered on his request, knowing that if I told him, he’d never take it to the police. He’d be dead much sooner.

“Your name is Atlas,” I told him. “Atlas King.”

He nodded slowly, his brows furrowed as if storing the name in his memory vault, but he showed no signs of recognition. “Atlas,” he said flatly.

I watched him with mild amusement as he repeated the name quietly to himself. The sight was almost sad. To watch a grown man try to attach himself to a name he couldn’t remember was like trying to squeeze a square into a triangle hole. He was lonely. He had no one to remember though the determination in his eye proved that he hoped that there was. So different to the real Atlas.

I’d once asked him – rather crudely – if his family was dead. He’d barely batted an eyelid before he quipped back with a snide remark. He noted that he already lived with a stupid little girl and why the hell would he care for more people that would only prove to get in the way.

Dad told me his parents died in a plane crash.

I smiled as kindly as I could manage before I turned to an abrupt stop. Atlas’s head whipped around at my disappearance, his frown deepening in confusion when he stepped back to my side.

“Well, this has been… swell,” I began.

“No, not again –”

“But I’ve really got to get going,” I continued.

“No, don’t –”

“So I’m just gonna take my leave.”

“Please don’t go.”

I ignored the glittering plea in his eye, stretching my hand out in a friendly gesture.

“Please,” he whispered, but the crestfallen look on his face was enough to know he realised this was non-negotiable.

Atlas looked at my outstretched hand, seeming to consider before he held his own hand out. My fingers wrapped around his wrist, strengthening my hold as I slid the prick into his vein. He blinked at the shock of it, probably assuming it was an electric shock the way targets normally did. When I pulled away, there wasn’t even a mark.

“Wait!” he called out as I walked away. “Can I see you tomorrow?”

I hesitated as I turned back to him, his eyes wide in question. This time tomorrow, my sights would be set on a new target, and yet, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment in the fact. I’d dreamt of this day for as long as I could remember. I’d dreamt of the ways I would finally win. Now the deed had been done, I couldn’t help but feel something twist in my chest.

Atlas waited patiently for an answer, his blue eyes searching every inch of my face. It was strange to be seen so completely. To feel the desperation seep into me in his hope.

“Sure,” I answered, letting the wind carry my reply.

I tried to push away the small flicker of hope that I was telling the truth. But I knew there was no chance that I would see him tomorrow, and the sudden dawning brought a hollow sinking in my gut. Without Atlas King, what drive did I strive for? Who was I without him?

I was a hero without her villain.

I was Batman without the Joker.

Giving Atlas one last look, I imprinted his confused smile into my memory bank, ready to start the new chapter of my career. I would never see Atlas King again.