Chapter 2: The Early Easy
"...so don't get rid of those heavy coats yet, folks, because even though we've dipped our toes into spring, this cool weather is here to stay for another few weeks..."
While the early morning newscast had been standard enough to treat as background noise, the volume at which the overly peppy weather person delivered their report was somewhat grating on the ears, and no doubt the opposite effect than what was intended by the bubbly demeanor.
Combined with the fact that all of this invasive noise was coming from the downstairs living room television, and had made its way through a purposefully closed door, the bedroom's sole occupant decided this was fate's subtle nudge for him to get his day properly started.
"Typha, come on down, breakfast is almost ready!"
And this, Typha surmised, was his uncle's far less subtle but admittedly more convincing attempt at motivation.
The young man sat up in his bed, blinking his eyes open and letting himself get used to the waking world. Though it was dark, he could still make out a few bits of his room from the scant pieces of light that made their way through his drawn curtains. A few posters lined his walls, and a bass guitar rested against his dresser. His laptop lay near his bed on an office chair next to his bed, and a large vanity mirror hung on the back of his door.
After mentally psyching up for the morning, he rolled out of bed and performed his morning routine of freshening up, then went about getting his backpack ready for school. Once that was finished, he threw on a pair of black pants with a white and blue shirt, and stood in front of the mirror for 'final checks'.
In the mirror, Typha saw a young man of average height. He had voluminous black hair with numerous curls, dark skin, and dark brown eyes. He had a somewhat youthful face, which he had, at one point, attempted to offset by growing out his facial hair. However, he wasn't able to grow either a full beard or a mustache, and ultimately decided that looking young was better than a series of desperate patches on his face.
Satisfied with his appearance, Typha slung his backpack over his shoulder and made his way downstairs. He could see his uncle preparing bacon and eggs in separate skillets over the stove while taking momentary looks back at the television. Typha took a moment to mute the TV, and the lack of volume finally alerted Markus to his nephew's presence.
"Zinniah had to leave early this morning, so you're rolling to school." Markus asked as he quickly placed four pieces of bread in the toaster before returning to his skillets.
'In the damn winter,' he thought, more than a little annoyed that he would have to be in the cold. However, he knew his aunt's job came before his discomfort. "No worries, I planned to anyway," Typha eventually said, leaning against the island countertop and waiting for Markus to finish preparing breakfast.
He wasn't terribly hungry this morning, but he knew the future version of him would appreciate the energy, and the current him would appreciate not hearing another ten minute lecture on the importance of a filling meal to start the day. He was tempted to ask his uncle to drop him off instead, but he'd already said he planned to go on his own. Plus, Typha knew the school was in the opposite direction from the gym where Markus worked, and he could hardly ask the man to inconvenience himself for his sake.
The toaster dinged, and Markus placed them on paper towels before retrieving two slices of cheese from the refrigerator. "Got a couple of loaded grilled cheese cooking, by the way."
"Huh?" Typha responded, as he was currently excavating a large thermal coat from the closet "Oh, uh, sure. Thanks, sounds good."
"Don't you think that's a little much, Ty?"
"Uncle Markus, it's like in the 50's or 60's today. I'm gonna feel the chill in my bones without it."
"Sure you don't want a hot cocoa to help fight off the cold?" Markus teased.
"Seriously? Cuz like, yeah, that actually sounds pretty good."
Markus looked up from washing dishes to give Typha a look. "Boy, shut up before I eat your sandwich."
"No hot chocolate and no breakfast? It's like I'm a common criminal over here." Typha walked to the front door, grabbing a now completed grilled cheese off the counter. "I'll accept this as an offering of forgiveness." Typha strapped on a pair of roller skates and waved goodbye to his uncle before heading out the door, breakfast in hand.
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There's something of an otherworldly quiet to a city early in the morning, long after the nightcrawlers find their way back home, but just before most of the rest of the populace rises to bring life back to the town. Chirping birds heralded the coming of a newborn sun, which bathed the city in an orange glow and offered a thin but effective blanket of warmth against the chill of dawn.
At this hour, the only souls awake to disrupt the peace of the morning do so only out of obligation, such as bakers preparing their goods for the day, radio DJ's constructing set lists for their time block, and delivery boys pelting their neighbors' front doors with the latest local news.
Along with high school students that insist on traveling to school using the halfway point between walking and cycling.
Typha considered this one of the few, almost nonexistent, times anyone could expect relative quiet outside in Brillarville. The only noticeable sound to him was his skates on the pavement as he lazily glided down the street, and the crunching of his grilled cheese as he enjoyed his breakfast.
He appreciated the lack of pedestrians and cars that usually crowded the city, removing the need for him to restrict himself to the designated bike lane, or attempt to weave through throngs of people on the sidewalk. The frigid air was a definite negative, but even borderline frigophobic that he was, even he wasn't as bothered by the temperature as he thought he'd be. Maybe his solo trips to school could restart in earnest sooner than he thought.
The route Typha took this morning gave him a clear view of Mount Seer, the tallest point in the city. The mountain's height was impressive enough, but a different feature made it the infamous local landmark of Brillarville. Two massive, glasslike shards protruded from the top of the landform, each about thirty meters high, with no one knowing how deeply embedded they were into the ground.
A common wager among younger children was to journey up the mountain and write their name on one the shards. Though there was never any proof of this actually happening, or even any indication that anyone ever tried, the rumors of it happening had scared enough parents into convincing the police to cordon off the entrance and put up a sign threatening heavy fines for anyone caught trespassing. Typha himself was never frightened of the place, but he had to admit, looking at the mountain from a distance did give it a kind of ominous aura.
Typha's trek to school took him away from his home on the west side and through a decent portion of downtown. The shift in architecture was gradual but noticeable, as smaller businesses with their names on the front of the store slowly gave way to franchises and massive buildings with no clear indication as to what went on inside them.
Downtown Brillarville wasn't all large buildings of vague purpose. Typha passed several independently owned stores that looked like they belonged back on the west side, but were popular or essential enough to survive the harsher financial demands of downtown.
Coming up on a corner, he stuck his hand out to grab a light post and turn down a new street, where the sight of one of the aforementioned stores, a normally humble looking convenience store came into view.
The owner, Jorge Wellon, sunk a decent amount of money into a high end coffee maker that he stuck at the front of his store, and allowed time combined with man's dependence on caffeine to make him back his investment and then some.
Typha was aware of all of this, and normally wouldn't have looked twice at Wellon's Express. However, while the store was usually fit with the rest of the buildings around it, it stood out harshly that morning. One reason could have been that the inside was still dark so close to its hours of operation, which was a tad bit strange to anyone who paid attention, as Mr. Wellon was very serious about his opening schedule.
Another could have been the obnoxious, brightly colored yellow lizard with a crown sitting atop large, equally bright yellow letters that spelled out "REX" on one of the pale gray building's outer walls.
Typha couldn't suppress a disgusted groan at seeing the artwork. Not for any sort of altruistic stance against graffiti, nor an aching sympathy for Mr. Wellon, despite liking him enough to wish another building had been tagged instead. No, Typha had the distinct honor, accompanied by the distinct headache, of being familiar with this specific piece of modern artwork.
More importantly, with the artist.
Quite suddenly, Typha's casual trip to school became far more energized, and filled with sharp purpose. Sharp, annoyed purpose.
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Students were already filtering into the building by the time Typha skidded to a stop on the sidewalk leading to the school. However, he knew his target well enough to know there was little chance they had already made it inside. He took a seat on a bench near the front doors, and switched his skates with a pair of shoes from his backpack.
Typha expected he'd have to wait until the attendance bell rang before handling his current situation, but that time table was cut thankfully short as he saw a shaggy looking student wearing a red beanie and a large gray hoodie ride a skateboard towards the school. Typha rose to meet the young man, who did not seem to be slowing down as he approached.
"Yo, Ty, brake me bro!" the young man shouted as he barreled towards Typha.
Who promptly sidestepped the incoming teenager, allowing him to ram into a metal handrail. The skateboarder impacted with a ringing thud, laying crumpled over the rail for a few seconds as he recovered from having the wind knocked out of him.
"Morning, Rex," Typha said as the skater removed himself from the rail.
After a few coughs, Rex responded. "What the hell, bro? Didn't you hear me ask you to stop me?"
"All I heard was the sound of someone who needs to remember how to skate safely. And don't call me Ty."
"Come on, yo, don't be lame—"
Typha held his hand up to interrupt Rex. "I saw what you did outside of Wellon's place."
"Yo, you came to school on skates today? Why didn't you hit me up, we could've come together." Rex was interrupted again, this time by Typha pulling his beanie down over his face, followed by slapping Rex's forehead.
"What the hell's the problem, dude?!" Rex asked, pulling his beanie up.
Typha pinched the bridge of his nose before answering. "You tagged the store with your signature."
The skater looked puzzled, not yet understanding what he'd done to earn a head slap. "Yeah, it looks sick, so what?
"Dumbass, your signature is your real name."
Rex at least had the awareness to look sheepish at this point, rubbing the back of his head. "Okay, so I was in a hurry right? Like I had to go quick cuz I'd been at Tiffany's, and the folks were gonna freak if I came back too late again. And I was, like, havin' a block, ya know, I wasn't feelin' anything special. So I just went with what I know the best. And yo, you gotta admit it was pretty clean, right?"
"Yeah, that's another thing," Typha said. "Why Wellon's place at all? There's tons of space down by the levees, and more than enough buildings not owned by people who know who you are."
"But Wellon's is freakin' prime real estate, dawg." They both began making their way into the school as Rex continued explaining. "People always go by that place, no better way to let the streets know who they belong to."
Typha let out an exasperated sigh. "This is a busy city, Rex. No one pays any real attention to stuff like a bit of graffiti on the side of a shop. And the only people who will notice are people who want it gone."
"...Alright, his old lady got all pissy cuz I rode my board inside the place a couple days ago, but that's like, only half the reason."
"I'm gonna say this once, because I didn't think it ever needed to be said," Typha began, placing a hand on Rex's shoulder. "If you wanna mark up a bunch of buildings, go crazy. Turn the city into your canvas, I don't care. But don't do it alone, and I know you did it alone, because Rico wouldn't have let you sign it with your name. And especially don't do it using the same tag you use in videos you put on the internet."
"Oh shit, that reminds me, we still good for this Thursday?" Rex asked, "Rico said there's this sick spot on the north side, perfect for a shoot."
"You..." Typha stared at Rex's face, who was clearly waiting for an answer and seemingly completely oblivious to his warning. "...Yeah. Yeah, I'm good for it."
"Nice. Hey, I'll catch you later man, I gotta head to class. Stay chill, dude." Rex took off down the hall to his first period, leaving Typha alone to reflect on where things went wrong during that conversation.
Eventually deciding he did everything correctly, Typha headed to his own first class of the day.
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The bell for the second half of the day's classes sounded down the halls as Typha entered the library. His first period for the afternoon was an independent study hall, which was the school's way of offering its senior students time in the day to consult with career counselors, work on final semester projects, or continue progress on any other school related endeavors.
In practice, most students used it as a mental break from the rest of the school day, wandering the halls or spending time on the grounds outside. The only caveat to this setup was the unspoken but heavily implied warning by the administration of "don't make us regret letting you do this", which most seniors had the sense to heed.
Typha would often take this time to find a quiet corner of the library to catch up on sleep and risk missing his last class of the day, having eventually come to an understanding with the school librarian that her jurisdiction should be a place to enjoy both literature and relaxation. Today, however, he wasn't feeling particularly tired, so he decided to partake in the fulfilling and worthwhile pastime of mindlessly browsing the internet until the bell rang.
Easily finding an open computer, Typha logged on and let the muse of the internet take him, which simply meant he didn't have a clear objective and would just look at whatever was popular. The school blocked social media websites for the most part, but they didn't restrict access to VidMeo, a popular video sharing website. Something about ease of access for teachers, but whatever the reason, it was a good time waster. Once on the site, he scrolled through some of the trending videos, but they were either ones he'd already seen, or seemed completely uninteresting.
As he was scrolling, his eyes caught a video of an interesting news report titled 'Multi-Million Dollar Company Faces Scrutiny in Wake of Attack'. The video's name was indeed one that piqued curiosity, but the fact that a video from a local news station in Michigan was able to reach the trending page the same day it was posted was unique in and of itself. With nothing better to do, Typha clicked on the video to see what about it was so special.
Pressing play, Typha saw a group of men in blue uniforms, the sight tickling something in the back of his mind that he couldn't quite place. Eventually, the men came upon another guy in a white lab coat, who pulled something out of his pocket, then tossed it at the men in uniforms, who spasmed and fell over.
"Authorites and eye witness reports say," the news anchor voice over said as the scene changed to a close up of the lab coat man's hand, "that the suspect used this strange device to incapacitate the Jury members you see here. When questioned about the device's origin..."
Typha paused the video, staring intently at the disc shaped device in the attacker's hand. Almost unblinkingly, he looked it over, taking in every detail he could before he allowed his mind to go anywhere that would lead him to disappointment.
'Same basic design,' Typha thought, 'and from what I can tell, same shape. But there's nothing engraved on it. Plus, he's holding it bare handed. It's definitely based on the real thing, but it's gotta be fake.' He zoomed out of the video and allowed it to play again. He noticed a bit more information elaborating on the event, particularly about Greensly himself.
"Huh," Typha said quietly to himself, reading out Greensly's former place of work from the scrolling news banner. "Verbradyne..."
Absolutely forgot to put the link for this shillfest in the last one, but better now than never. If you read any of this, thank you for your time. Much, much, much more to come.
https://www.wattpad.com/user/GranShine
