A figure of a man, his face unseen in the darkness, presses a button marked "record" on a machine. He starts to talk to the person sitting in a chair, looking down on his hands clutched together, the lamp above rocking the only source of light gently back and forth. "Alright Mr. Dorian, why don't you tell me everything you know about.....what we're doing."
"I'll tell you......I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Not going to talk, eh?" the mystery man pulled up a chair.
"Alright, let's start someplace else."
.......
"Your name is Valois Dorian, correct? "
"You did say my last name, so I suppose you already know that answer."
"Okay, so then, all the things in this file must be true: You're a homosexual 36-year old man who still lives with his mo-"
The man being questioned raised his hands to stop him there, "Fine, Fine, my name is Val Dorian."
"A-"
"And before you even start that sentence, no, I'm not related to John Dorian."
"Okay.....so you've said before you're nothing more than the manager of a small pawn shop?"
"Trading high value items for low prices, yes."
"You sound like no one who would know of our business, and yet....." The still unnamed man tossed an item onto the table. "How did you come across this?" He pointed.
Valois looked down at the item and looked up at the man in the shadows, and he spoke plainly "Someone brought it to my shop."
"Would you mind telling me just who it was that gave you this item?" the man tapped the item on the table.
"I can't tell you who it was, because I don't know his name, but I can tell you of someone that DOES know who he is."
"Indulge me."
..............
Later that night, 3 men dressed in black and armed with guns, broke into Val's pawn shop. They said not a word, but instead started wrecking everything in the shop. A late night hobo who had his mouth stuffed with disposed food came strolling along, to see what was happening. He walked into the shop and swallowed his food, and stared at the 3 men--they didn't even realize he was there.
The hobo suddenly erupted in senseless ruckess, "ABCACHAAAA! BAPLAFLIMINCHAAAAAA! ALIENS! ALIENS!" The smelly hobo was insane.
At that very instant, the hobo drew out his....sausage, and aimed down his sights. "Get the F*** out of my space outpost, you dirty little aliens!" And as if it was a shotgun, he pumped his sausage.
All 3 men dressed in black looked at him. Behind the dark and mysterious glasses that each man wore was a glare, aimed directly at the homeless man. Then, in a flash, they whipped out their guns, also black, and shot the hobo on the spot. Not even a scream for help, he dropped dead on the spot after whispering his last few words "Where's Leonard Nimoy when you need him?....". They shot him with a silent gun so it wouldn't be heard.
One of the men in black nodded to another one, and the 2 of them began to lift the body of the hobo, and stuffed it into a trash bin. They then hid the bin, and continued their destruction on the shop.
........
Val was released. Seven in the morning, right before he could leave, the unnamed man warned. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Dorian. This is not the last time we'll be seeing each other. That, I promise."
Out here in the daylight, Val could actually see the face of the unnamed man. He had a brownish tan, with black hair as black as the nighttime sky. He didn't look friendly.
Val continued his way to the shop, where he had to be there by 7:15. He barely made it. And he found it in rubble. "Who the hell did this?" he whispered, "How could this happen?"
He walked through the broken down door, past all the trashed DVDs and other pawns which had been destroyed and thrown onto the floor. "Who could've done this?"
He noticed a note lay on the front desk of the shop. He picked it up, and read it. "Aw S***....." he whispered as he finished reading it. The note read:
Hello, Mr. Dorian.
Sincerely,
The One
P.S. this note has been sprayed with a knock out chemical that shall force you to pass out by the time you're finished reading this sentence.
