[Mock-Fiction] I - Requiescat In Pace

Note: Please read the Formal Notice movella. It should be on the list on the right hand side.
Have i succumbed to the inevitable... or just made a mockery of it?

Cover by Secrets Unfold


5. 4 – The Dark Suit and The Stetson Hat

For the Troopers: Those that took the full month of December off as protest [with the exception of the 14th]. Vesp, Marshall, Eclecticboy, [insert other names here] and the rest of you that held to your word. You guys deserve this chapter, and this welcome back. It was not my responsibility formally to present you with a reward, but I reckoned I ought to present you all one, as staying off an addictive website and battling boredom is no easy feat. I hope you guys enjoy the chapter, as much as I enjoyed composing it :3]



It was 4 am. Zayn couldn’t have been up earlier. He usually slept the full night, and woke only until after noon. Such an easy life. But, unfortunately for poor, tired, fat Zayn, he valued his life more than his sleep. News had reached him that Harry Styles and Niall Horan had been assassinated [well, Harry had been. Only the girl with a slash through her middle knew what happened to Niall… unhappy manager must have gotten throttled by an unhappy worker in the middle of something]. So Zayn was eager to leave the UAF. He’d prepared a false passport and other forged documents before-hand; if there ever was a need for a quick getaway. And of course there was enough money for it: a teaspoon of opium raked in more money than a handful of gold.


He passed through the relatively empty train-station; a scarf covered the lower half of his face, and a long tan coat swirling around his knees. He couldn’t hide his size though [not that it mattered, but it was a sore subject for Zayn]. His pudgy centre bulged out of the coat, which was on the brink of loosing buttons due to it, and it growled hungrily. Zayn had promised himself that he wouldn’t eat until he was in the safety of the train-carriage. His mother had always told him not to eat so much, or he’d end up looking like the obese distant relative that he only knew in pictures. But it was hard not to eat when you had so much money to spend and so much food to buy. Now he really wished he’d listened to her.


Sighing, he walked along the platform impatiently, his shoes clacking on the polished floor. Zayn looked at his big Rolex watch. Ten more minutes, and his train would arrive. A train zipped by at just that moment, and slowed to a stop. Two people got out of a single train carriage, and sat down at the seats lined against the far wall. Zayn regarded them for a moment. There was a man in a leather jacket, who had a Stetson hat covering his blonde hair and was worn low over his eyes. He picked up a newspaper from a nearby desk and flipped through it. The other passenger was a man in a dark suit, who wore big sunglasses even though there was no sun at this time of day, and was chatting quietly on a slim cell phone.


Odd pair, thought Zayn.


The two look at each other and nodded. Dark Suit put away his cell phone and Stetson closed his newspaper. They began talking in undertones. Zayn looked around. There was no-one else in the train station. Zayn put a hand in his pocket, and felt for the bag of opium in the plastic bag. Freshly ground. Ready to sell. Taking one last look around, he approached the passengers and coughed.


Dark Suit looked up at Zayn, ‘Yes?’ he said tersely.

‘Are you two new around here?’ asked Zayn, casually.

Stetson regarded Dark Suit with a knowing look.

‘Suppose we was…’ he said. He had a heavy Texan accent.

‘I’m a… merchant,’ explained Zayn, ‘I was going to sell some of my merchandise after I left the UAF, but you must pity me: My wares were stolen by thieves on the way here. I do hope that our good Emperor Smith will deal with them. But I need some money to sustain myself for the journey.’

‘Right…’ said Dark Suit, bored and yet so focused behind those large sunglasses.

‘I have one bag of some value left. If you would be so kind as to trade some money for it,’ said Zayn.

He brought out the bag full of ground opium and presented it to the pair of passengers.


5 minutes left.


They both smirked at each other. Zayn, being the over-sized fool he is, misread their glee.

‘A drug-dealer, are you?’ asked Stetson.

‘Yes,’ said Zayn without faltering, ‘The custom around here praises the consumption of drugs.’

‘That’s not what we read before we got here,’ replied Stetson.

‘Of course not,’ said Zayn, ‘The Emperor wouldn’t look too good if everyone knew about it.’

‘Don’t trust you,’ said Dark Suit, looking at his watch.


4 minutes left.


‘Oh?’ said Zayn.

‘Mmm,’ said Stetson, nodding his head slowly, ‘But even if we was to, nothing doing.’

‘And why not?’

‘We don’t take none o’ that rubbish in our guts,’ remarked Stetson, ‘We got lives to live. We got wives back home. We got children to raise. Nothing doing.’

Zayn paused. This is why they’re meant to come to me, not the other way around, he thought in frustration.

‘Then why not buy this from me, and then sell it on,’ suggested Zayn, ‘It’ll make good money.’


3 minutes left.


Dark Suit thought on this, ‘That’s not a bad suggestion,’ he said.

‘But –’ Stetson broke in.

‘No, this is a good suggestion. If we sell this on, we could make a good sum of money and then you can send some back home,’ Dark Suit paused, ‘Last time I checked, your kid had TB.’

‘He does, but that ain’t no excuse to go an’ sell this bullhonkey on to people,’ replied Stetson, ‘It ruins lives. I mean look at the size of that guy!’ he pointed at Zayn, ‘Look how big he’s got from just selling the stuff! He must have fat clinging to ever vessel in his body.’


2 minutes left.


Zayn grimaced and was about to yell at Stetson, when Dark Suit interrupted, ‘You must excuse my friend,’ he said softly, getting up and putting a friendly arm around Zayn’s shoulders, ‘He’s a little uncivilized. Crazy as a bull with its tail on fire.’

‘Better that than a bloody money-worshipper like yourself,’ Stetson muttered, also getting up.

‘Anyway,’ said Dark Suit, taking no offence at Stetson’s remark, ‘Come. We shall negotiate the price of your… merchandise over a nice cup of coffee in the cafeteria.’

Zayn looked at his watch.


1 minute left.


‘I’m sorry, but my train’s nearly here,’ said Zayn, dismayed, ‘I’m afraid the price will have to be settled now.’

The three people turned to regard the tracks. There was rumbling and thundering as the train was about to arrive.

‘That your train?’ asked Stetson, the hint of a smile on his face. Zayn was aware that both passengers were holding his arms.


30 seconds left.


‘That’s right,’ said Zayn, merrily, ‘But it was lovely talking to you both. I’m afraid my time’s up.’

Stetson chuckled, ‘Got that one right,’ he said.


Both passengers threw the fat drug-dealer over the platform on to the polished rails. They turned away, walking quickly, as the train smashed into him and the stench of burning flesh filled the station’s air and the wheels ground to a halt.

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