Continued from Chapter 1: A New Start
by Gooz
It was almost ten o'clock the next morning when Ritchie finally woke up. He just wanted to sleep in after the events of the last day. He walked to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, taking a drink of milk right from the carton. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed as an envelope slid under the door. He placed the carton on the shelf and shut the refrigerator door. Slowly, he made his way toward the envelope, his bare feet causing the hardwood floor to creak a little bit. Without even picking up the envelope, he opened the front door and peeked his head out, looking first right and then left. He saw no one.
Give me a break.
Ritchie closed the door and then picked up the envelope. No writing was on its outside. It wasn't even sealed shut. He opened the flap and took out the papers from the inside. It was a mix of photos and documents, nothing directly identifying the man they were looking for, but pictures of known accomplices.
No, I don't want to see this shit! Why do they have to do this to me?
Ritchie lifted the papers and threw them high in the air. With his powers he set them on fire, burning them into ash before they even hit the ground. He missed one picture that slowly floated to the ground, a picture of known mobster Devin Philipe, thought to be one of the top partners of the unknown criminal leader. Ritchie sighed before burning that picture too. He reached for a broom to clean the now ash-filled kitchen. Maybe he should have just thrown the picture out.
***
New York Museum:
Marisa was working hard, organizing the new exhibit that would be opening shortly. On the outskirts of the European country known as Mandelovia, a suit of armor had been found that had been buried for centuries. Found nearby was a sword etched in symbols and writing of a language unknown to modern man. After a large sum of money exchanged hands, it was shipped to laboratories in Thunder City, where it was tested and then brought to New York to be put on display. The metal was constructed with an unknown element compound that was strange, yet beautiful.
"Ms. Stevens, you have a call," said a voice behind her.
She brushed her hair back and put down her clipboard, answering the phone. "Hello, this is Marisa Stevens."
"Yes, Ms. Stevens, this is about your request for more guards and law enforcement for this evening's display opening. I am sorry to report that we are spread too thin as it is and cannot send any more manpower your way."
"What? How can that be? I made the request weeks in advance."
"I am very sorry, Ms. Stevens. Good day."
"No, wait!"
Click.
***
Elsewhere, Ritchie had finished cleaning up and was now taking a long walk, breathing in the fresh afternoon air. Once again it was a beautiful day. He passed block after block, not even noticing how far he was walking. He passed some familiar faces, giving a simple wave while passing them. He stopped at a hot dog vendor. A short old man was behind it, wearing an apron that read, "Kiss Me, I'm Italian."
"One, please. Ketchup."
"Sure thing, son!"
As the old man whipped up the dog, a man stepped behind Ritchie. "Ketchup on a hot dog? That's sick, man!"
Ritchie turned to see a taller man with light brown hair -- Patrick Walker.
"Detective Walker, big hot shot New York City Police officer. How are you doing, buddy?"
"Good. Really good. One, please. Extra mustard and sauerkraut."
The old man handed the two men their hot dogs. Patrick handed him a five-dollar bill and told him to keep the change. The two friends began walking down the street.
"So, still no luck finding a job?"
"No, nothing with any pay over minimum wage."
"That really sucks," Patrick began. "You've saved the world how many times, yet they won't cut you slack and help get you a job. What the hell?"
"I wouldn't trust the government's help. Damn, they have been attempting to bring me back into the fold since I left. Hell, for all I know, they are the main reason that I keep getting turned down."
"I wish that I could just walk into one of those government buildings and arrest everyone. Anyway, how's the missus? You're almost hitting the one-year mark, right?"
"Yeah. We'll be married one year to Sunday. I have this whole picnic on the beach planned. Nothing too big, but nice. You know, watching the sunset and everything."
"That's really cool."
Patrick didn't notice, while he took the last bite of his hot dog, that a small spot of mustard fell right in the middle of his white dress shirt.
"How's the current case? Still that same guy?"
"Yup. Dan 'the Glass-Eye.' This guy is good. I mean, whenever we seem to have him, he just slips from our hands. I'm beginning to think that there's a leak. We'll get him sooner or later. You can only run for so long, you know?"
Ritchie didn't say a word, only nodded his head.
"Hey, I got to go. It was good seeing you, man. Maybe we'll all get together sometime. You know, me and Angie, you and Marisa. Have dinner or something."
Ritchie said his goodbye and then walked farther down the street, finally waving down a taxi. He stepped into the dirty taxi.
"New York Museum, please."
"Si, bien."
Around a block away from the museum, Ritchie noticed a flower vendor and asked the guy to stop. He paid the cost and quickly exited the taxi.
"A dozen red roses."
As he was paying for the roses, a figure walking hastily down the street bumped into him, almost taking him off his feet.
"Watch where you're standing," the man said.
New York, go figure. Then Ritchie noticed the man, his face -- Devin Philipe. The man then entered a building right behind the flower vendor. Ritchie thought hard for a moment, biting his lower lip. No, it's someone else's job now. Not mine.
Ritchie reached the museum, where Marisa was busy telling people where to move things and how to place them. This next opening was very big and very important. Nothing could go wrong.
Marisa turned and, seeing Ritchie with the flowers, smiled and shook her head, then gave him a big hug and kiss. They talked for a little bit as Marisa took a five-minute break.
"Yeah, so about tonight," she said. "I'm not sure how late I'll be home. We're shorthanded over here, and there is still a lot of work to be done. Plus, we could use the extra cash."
"Yeah, it's okay. I'll just grab a quick bite to eat or something."
"There is something else, too..."
"What?" Ritchie asked, but Marisa was silent. "Is everything okay?"
"Yes, everything is perfect. I'll talk to you later about it. I really gotta get back to work now."
"Yeah, bye."
They kissed, and Marisa left Ritchie alone, sitting on the steps in front of the museum. After a few moments, Ritchie got up and headed home.
As Marisa entered the museum, her good friend Jackie was there. She was holding a display name.
"Hey, was that Rich? Flowers? Awww... He is too cute."
"Yeah, he's great."
"Have you had a chance to tell him yet?"
Marisa rubbed her stomach. "No."
"You know you're gonna have to tell him sooner or later. It's his baby. He's gonna be so happy."
"Yeah, I will. I just want to wait for the right time to tell him. The right time..."