Category: Chapter 1

The Dockside Lounge is an anachronistic relic from some time in the eighties. Struggling neon signs and a heavy layer of greasy dust on the fake tropical decor are enhanced by faded and peeling posters for beers and cigarettes that haven’t existed in decades. The Handler leads Medic past a minuscule but packed dance floor, …

“So … Brock, is it?” she asks, offering an outstretched hand in greeting. She’s still mesmerizing with her hair pulled back, her smooth brown skin plunging into an elegant black turtleneck beneath a long black overcoat. His own generic blue button-down and rumply old brown blazer feel embarrassingly inadequate. “Most people just call me Medic,” …

The chilly mist of the gray morning wraps itself around her as she stands leaning against the weathered brick corner of the building, legs crossed casually, coat unbuttoned, mobile phone in one hand, coffee in the other. She taps out a response to Medic’s email, starting off by chiding him for using his real name …

Medic wakes slowly and painfully. He doesn’t look at the clock but it feels like the better part of an hour has elapsed before he manages to roll out of bed, still fully clothed, and stumble toward the bathroom. A sudden and powerful wave of nausea grips him as he approaches the toilet. Salivating and …

Medic turns unsteadily into the park, hoping that the fresh air will help. He’d set out to drink, to drown, to smoke, to forget, to leave behind the mundane if even for a little while. So far it’s been “mission (more than) accomplished”. In the same spirit he’s decided to take a night stroll through …

As a responsible “citizen journalist” I do my best to research a topic before I post about it. Usually I’ll focus on a subject for a few days, sometimes a week, occasionally longer, but there’s one area of research that I’ve pursued incessantly for years. It’s all based on a collection of loosely organized documents, …