Mastermind: Chapter 1- The Mishap

Mastermind: Chapter 1- The Mishap

Things were changing. Things always had to change. Always for the worse. Such was this; the bloodied, dismantled corpse, had-been face shadowed with the thick, burning blood and the cracking pattern of the dismayed roof high up above.
And so she stood. Hand trembling againt that jaw-dropped mouth, face contorted in a grimace of horror and fear. Teeth chattering as a shuddering gasp slid uneasily down that trachea to fill those weakening lungs, a single simulataneous tear slipping from one tear duct to roll freely down those reddening cheeks. Bloodshot eyes would clamp to a shut as hands moved toward that chest of hers, shoulders rising ever uncertainly, before face lifted upward, mouth distorted in a scream of hatred and curse to the Heavens above. After all... they'd taken him...

Chapter One: The Mishap

"Thank you; come again." The words had been said so many times it was impossible to say them with feeling. Just a smile and a bow, and if they were really shrewd, they'd catch the glimpse of an 'I hate my life' in your unhidden eyes. Or such Jennifer Kvalko believed. Just like life itself, times had changed. And unable to do anything but smother beneath her mother's dictating reign, Jen just kept smiling. Just a smile. That simple upward arc of two thiny-pressed pale pink lips was all she-- no, no, all they needed to think everything was okay. That everything was just as it used to be. Jen knew otherwise.
But, nevertheless, she liked her mask of a smile. It was a part of her; the part the others saw, and knew, and loved... or hated. And so it remained. She couldn't take that mask off. Not here... not now... not ever.
The tiny four-cornered pastry shop on the edge of the intersection of the avenues marked by third and fourth was more well-known for its sale of coffee, rather the sugary carbohydrates. Day in and day out would patrons of that soul-hungry city stop on in, no more than an average of four at a time, five if the place was especially busy. Quite the contrary had this overheated, morbid Monday proved to be. Monday, yes... that slowest day of the whole damn week... except perhaps Sunday, though that shop, like many others, wasn't open to the public on Sundays.
Perhaps it was twenty minutes. It wasn't known whether time was inching along by or speeding suddenly. The twenty minutes was the average time between patrons; that was the suspicion of the newest entrant.
He was a regular. A middle-aged balding man who daily ordered two coffees and a small croissant, and occupied that dark, dank table nearest the back of the building, the place where all other staying patrons tried not to flock to. Jen let her head lift from its half-bowed position as shoulders straighened, spine bending backward ever slightly, lifting her mask once more to shield her face. It was the proper way of serving, as weeks of watching the senior employees had taught. Mouth would begin to open in a call out for requested dining, though known quite well what the response would be... and no sooner had that lower jaw dropped to speak did a firm hand fall to rest against her girlish left shoulder, causing head to swivel and eyes to widen ever slightly.
"Kyle.... sir..." That light whisper of a voice would emit from that slender throat as a hand lifted to shift thin blond strands from her face back behind their respective ear, a capture which they refused, bouncing back from whence they came once more. The elder employee removed his hand from the younger's shoulder, replacing it against corresponding hip, as its opposite had already done.
"Your shift's long since ended..." The elder gave a cock of his head and a smirky grin, tangle of reddish-brown locks falling down toward his eyes at the motion. Why, had such time passed by already? As if in disbelief, Jen just stood and stared at the one before her, before head slowly moved in a swivel toward that solitary circular wallclock perched just above the door. Hn... quarter past five; how conveniant. 'Mother-dearest' would certainly have her head for this. Silently, with a bit of a panic evident in her gaze, would she remove that faded jean apron from around her neck, dropping it with a flop to the faux-wooden counter behind that glass one, that showcase. Stealthily more would she slip out from behind the prison, hand held to reddening face, as that aging man having flocked toward one wall gave her a peculiar stare, a stare that captured her every movement, as she moved toward that metal coatrack near the exit, as she lifted one hand to grasp her heavy winter coat, as she clambered on out that door, a stare that dropped and turned off only once that door's tiny golden bell clanged with a gentle chime. Appropriate music for an inappropriate exit...
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Heavy winter boots stopped moving and slid ever slightly toward their right a block and a few steps from that tiny cornerstore. Slowly would Jen swivel to lean up against the nearest building to her, shoulder and head pressing up against the cold brick. This world... this life... this was all a mistake... everything should have been different.... everything should have been happier... eyelids drooped downward halfway as she moved to slide arms into respective coat sleeves, buttoning and zippering here and there along the front centre of that coat, before hands moved to flick those thick hair strands to the outside of the material. And only then would she continue on... back home... there wasn't anywhere else to go...
The tiny building owned by Golana Kvalko was tons smaller in comparison to those towering skyscrapers and sixteen story office buildings seen usually scattered about the streets of New York. A three-story green-and-white colonial style house that decored the left side of one street visible from the road, seemingly pushed backward by the taller buildings. Jen lifted fingers to clench around the sleeves of that overgrown jacket and moved arms to hide her face in shame of the tiny establishment; why did she have to stay in such a small place, while everyone else had moved to occupy the more luxurious hotel buildings? But no... her father had to leave them with a budget just barely enough to get by... no... he shouldn't be blamed... it wasn't his fault he had to die...
Keisuke Kvalko had perched almost in a waiting atop that top step of a set of five extending upward toward the entry port of that building, thin arms leaning against corresponding knees, pitch black hair blowing down into keen watching eyes. It was those eyes that landed soon on Jen's hesitant form barely a block away from the humble home. With a bit of a perky smile and a laugh would he rise to his feet on that step, juvenile form turning slowly to face Jen's as an arm lifted in a wave of invitation, an invitation the elder heeded with a gentle smile and slow movement across that dividing street, hands sliding toward large pockets dug deep into the front of that thick coat.
"You're late again..." The adoptive brother to the distraught teen, pushing his way off that stoop with a swift jump to the sidewalk before the like, turning and moving at a trot to greet his sister. "Mom's in there havin' a cow; she thinks you went off with some stranger or something..." Jen let azure eyes slide to the ground beneath her as she continued on along toward that stoop, greeting the younger with a pat atop the head.
"Honestly..." No need for that masked smile now, and even if there were, it certainly didn't seem strong enough to hoarde off that oncoming anger, "She still doesn't trust me... disgusting..." Keisuke stood silent for a moment, watching as the elder walked toward that inward portal of that building.
"She's just worried, I... guess..."
Jen stared at that door before her, silenced in response. A light exhale gave way to part those tightly pressed lips as one hand lifted smoothly from beneath the overgrown sleeve of that heavy jacket, clasping long, thin fingers around that door's knob, twisting the like and pushing the door inward.
"M-mom?" That heavy wooden door fell backward with a 'thud', slamming into its respective four-cornered container. Fingers would fidget with the front of that thick jacket, prying those front flaps separate and sliding thin arms from the overgrown sleeves, before turning once more to lift the jacket to its hang beside the door, the sounds of frustration, and the loud stomps against the floor echoing from the kitchen only two feet from that front hallway. Tentatively did Jen continue along, slipping black-stockinged feet out of heavy Winter boots, letting the discarded articles lie lopsided beneath that hanging skin of a coat. Slowly more would she lift a hand to push against the open doorless walkthrough of the wall separating the main vein of a hall and the branch of a kitchen, eyes glancing carefully about the like.
"I thought we agreed you'd be home by five!" The shrill shriek was soon followed up by the crash of metal to the far wall as a rusting pan sped past Jen's head, causing the girl to lift her hands to her eyes and cringe forward in fear. Golana Kvalko pushed her way out that square hole of a door in the dividing wall between kitchen and hall, graying blonde hair falling in strings before her angered face as she glared to her younger, the latter who sunk to a kneel on the ground, shaking her head violently.
"I didn't... I wasn't thinking, I..." Jen managed to look up in time to fall to the ground, barely missing her mother's falling, outstretched hand before hurrying to her feet, slipping on the closest shoes she could find and speeding right back out the front door, eyes clamped shut, an unwanted tear welled in the corner of the right.
"Jen?" Keisuke, still lounging about outdoors, stood in a hurry to his feet as his elder sped past him, stumbling blindly to the road.
The rest seemed a daze. Jen slowed to a halt, eyelids prying open once more allowing that welled tear to trickle down her cheek, head lifting and craning to stare to the road she stood halfway to the centre of, frozen in position like a doe caught in the highlights of an eighteen-wheeler. Without the doe. The huge truck had no apparent knowledge of the girl's fear as it sped along that road.
It didn't even seem to give a damn as its chrome heading smashed into human flesh and bone, propelling the latter backward on to the cold concrete.
The rest went black.