Some body needs help [Max]

The silence in the car was unbearable. The creaking sound of the wheel turning under Madden's bloody hands scorched his ears at each turn. He turned on the radio, trying to find something to listen to other than the news reporters. But each time he changed the frequency, a new bloody finger print was left on the board. Max was stressed out by the sight of it, flicking his fingers each time it happened, looking at the prints with worry. He was a cop, he knew what detectives looked for when they looked for a murder. However he doubted the PD would be looking for Jack White. Without knowing it, the PD had him on their hit list, Max had just executed justice by himself. He made himself stronger than any man by taking away someone's life, and that made him fear himself more than the PD's reaction to it. He had killed before, but never this way, never out of vengeance and in such a cold blood. His mind was filled with stinging scorpions, poisoning his every thought with diverse emotions, all wrecking him a little bit more.

He drove for a while, constantly changing the radio frequency, burning maybe one or two red lights, he wasn't sure. He almost forgot he was in a limousine at times, nearly shoving the back end of the vehicle into other cars. The man arrived at the address he was headed to, the building standing tall above him as he parked the limousine further away from it. It was late, very late, perhaps too late for anyone to answer his calls. But he got out of the car, seeing no one in the streets at this hour as he made his way to the entrance. His hand reached for the door, without letting him remember they were covered in blood. Gladly the blood was now dry and wouldn't let any traces behind. He made his way up the stairs, not taking the elevator, being quiet in each of his steps. He couldn't afford to wake up anyone now. Reaching the level he remembered to be the one he was looking for, he stepped towards the door, raising a hand to knock on it until he froze. His fist, bloody and cracked from the punches it had given. The hand shook as Madden slowly lowered it, a ball forming in his throat. He wet his dried lips, staring at the door, parting his mouth "Jac__" his voice was so weak it barely came out, Jacob's name ending in a cracked whine. It was pity-full of him, and it brought an angered look back upon his face.

He finally brought himself to knock on the door, stronger than he had first planned. He needed Jacob to open, he needed the man's presence, his advice, his help, his words. He needed to see his eyes. He didn't realize how he looked at this point, mirrors in the car simply didn't attract his gaze. Perhaps was he too ashamed of himself to dare stare at himself. But his face was covered in the traces of his bloody hands, and the murderous gaze in his eyes still didn't leave. Blood coated his clothes and skin, splattered upon his neck like some red paint on a canvas. If anyone saw him...

Sorry for the door

He heard nothing behind the door, and he stared at it with a lost hope slowly creeping into his eyes. Jacob was away, surely he was away, working, doing whatever it was he did at this hour. Max thought of knocking again, but then he believed maybe he shouldn't insist. He was about to leave when he heard the door open slightly. He rose his eyes to the half face of Jacob peeking through the door and its frame. The chain was still there to hold the door closed, showing how much Jacob trusted the world. Max could have laughed in other circumstances. The man reminded him of some old grandpa afraid the nazis will invade his house to recover some holy grail from his secret stash. He saw the door shut closed, but he knew Jacob was going to open that door in just a second, the time needed to remove the chain and open the door again. Exactly that happened, unraveling the merc with a worried look on his face. Max couldn't truly find his words, his mind being rather blank for anything that made sense in this moment.

He wasn't left to think further. The neighbors probably heard his strong knocking and may come out of their homes to seek trouble. Jacob pulled Max inside gently, closing the door behind them. Madden's eyes trailed around the living room. He didn't know what he expected from Jacob's place. He guessed he never really expected anything and didn't take the time to imagine where he lived. It was all so clean, so peaceful in colors and light that Max felt like some disease coming in here to stain everything in crimson. He almost felt like leaving, feeling unwelcome in such a place with such stained hands. For a moment he was lost in contemplation, until his eyes fluttered and looked at Jacob, searching for the man's eyes. When he finally did find them, his murderous gaze seemed to slowly calm down. He took a deep breath, his hands raised at the level of his waist, like someone afraid to stain something. As he expired all the air, his chest shook slightly, a cold person would have done the same. But the room wasn't cold. His eyes left Jacob's own safe and reassuring ones to look at his hands again.

"I_He's dead...I killed him...Jack White's dead..." spilling out those words was not an easy task for him, and he felt weak saying them. Not only emotionally, but also in his knees and legs. He crouched, taking deep breaths, a hand on his forehead as he closed his eyes for a second. He felt like a little boy again, sitting on the floor to cry after he had been scold. Be no one scold him yet, despite himself. He felt sick about his own actions, but he still didn't feel sorry for Jack White's death. All he wanted, coming to Jacob's home, was to seek guidance, reassurance. That what he did didn't make him a monster, that he was still a man, that like Jacob he was still a good person despite the fact that he took a life in such a savage way. Seeing Jacob's eyes, it reminded him how he saw no beast, no dark monster in those brown eyes, only a human that so happens to have killing as a hobby. He had dwell on the merc's case for long enough, he knew what he believed about him. But right now he didn't know anymore who he was, who was Max Madden? Was he still there under the blood, or did he disappear when Jack White gave away his last breath?

Sorry for the door

Of course Jacob would have questions, and Max knew that the man would have loved to do the deep himself. And Madden would have probably left him, if only he didn't want to make sure Jack White wouldn't kill him. When you want something done, you do it yourself and don't play around with deciding who will do what. In this case he took the place of the killer, Jacob's initial place, to accomplish a deed that needed to be done. Personal vengeance had also a big part in all of it. All the pain he had felt during that night at the slaughterhouse had to go somewhere. He couldn't keep it inside, it had to escape. So like some sort of ceremony, an exorcism, he killed his torturer, spreading his blood on the forest floor. But now here came the secondary effects. The fear that he may have changed because of this act haunted him, but right now he didn't have the courage to tell Jacob that.

He remained quiet as Jacob's questions slipped through his lips. He couldn't answer without letting his angry emotions get the best of him. He thought he had calmed down, but the coals of his anger were still burning, ready to catch on fire at any second. That is until he felt Jacob's arms wrap around him, soothing like water thrown on embers. He didn't expect that action from Jacob. It was closer to something Ruby would have done, but yet he learned to know about Jacob each day they met, each minute they passed together, each second he spent on looking into those eyes. It was what convinced him Pierce wasn't truly a bad person, and despite the man not believing the cop's beliefs about him, Max held that fact close to his heart even today.

He did not dare move or reciprocate the man's movements, again afraid to stain something pure, even if that word is relative considering Jacob's past actions. "I need your help..." he said accepting to move a hand to the man's shirt collar, the tip of his fingers barely touching his skin. "He's in the car_the body is in the car..." he needed help to get Jack White's body away from prying eyes, to make him disappear into the night for no one to see. And the car as well. He was still dressed in the driver's clothes, stained with White's blood. He will have to burn those. The thought of the blood on his skin and under his nails made him want to scrub his own skin off, paranoia filling him at the thought that the PD could find out.

He did not wish to talk about himself right now. All he wanted to do was to get Jack White's body erased from the face of the earth so that he could move on, walk upon the next step to recovering from this. And one of the next steps was to find out if he was still the same, or if he had irrevocably changed.

Sorry for the door

Jacob's choice of words, it was encouraging, making Max want to get up and rise rather than stay sited on the floor like a miserable being. He felt the man's touch leave him, the reassuring grip flowed away, and with it his peace. He rose his eyes to Jacob as he spoke, instructing him on what he was to do next. He was right about changing and cleaning up. Max was lucky he didn't meet anyone on his way up, or he would have been in for some pretty heavy explaining. You couldn't get away with the excuse that you were at a costumed party when you are barely in October. He stood up, taking the man's hand. More and more he felt like an animal because of his ridiculous attitude, and he needed to snap out of it. Jacob pointed at the bathroom, or at least Max assumed it was that before he left to walk to his bedroom, looking for clothes.

Madden made his way to the bathroom, again stricken by how clean everything was, how it just seemed to reflect an entire other face of the merc's self. As he came upon his own reflection in the mirror, his own eyes met with their doubles of confusion. He saw a man in the mirror with an expression so different from all he had seen before, that he could not bare stare at such a stranger. He removed the coat and shirt of the limousine driver, looking around the bathroom for a while, wondering where he could set those rags. He ended up folding them roughly and setting them on the floor. When he turned his face again at the mirror he saw something else, like a snake shedding his skin, the anger and confusion on his face had slowly faded. He was the same man physically, the J&R still a white scar on his chest, and all the scars that came with it. He could not see his back, but if he could, rage may have stricken him again.

The water poured in the bathroom sink as Max cleaned his hands, arms, neck and face. The cold water brought some of his senses back, like after a hangover when you finally wake up your numb face. He rubbed his skin deep, scratching under the nails, the skin on his hands and neck were now raw, red from the intensity of his hands upon his skin. The blood circled inside the sink, draining slowly before his eyes. He took one of Jacob's towels, feeling terrible at the idea of letting even so one tiny drop of blood on such a white fabric.

Jacob came in the bathroom, claiming to have a shirt for him. The shirt was no special shirt, it was pretty simple really, and Max would never know it was his until he puts it on. With the towel between his hands, whipping his neck from the water, he looked at Jacob, his eyes harbored now more of a lost expression than an angered or murderous one. His eyes trailed upon Jacob until he saw the shirt in his hand. He folded the towel in his hands slowly, setting it on the edge of the sink before carefully walking to Jacob. "Thank you." he said, now avoiding the man's gaze for a reason he wasn't sure he could explain. He slipped the shirt on, feeling the familiar fabric upon his skin, and realizing the size fit just right. He said no word of it, but the way he touched the fabric once it was on showed he understood, even though he didn't exactly remember how the shirt came in Jacob's possession.

"Let's go. Let's get this done." his voice carried more strength in it, more determination as he simply wanted to see his worries end, his steel eyes going back to Jacob's.

Sorry for the door

He saw the look Jacob gave his back as he walked into the bathroom with a shirt. Max knew how the man felt about the entire ordeal of the slaughterhouse. He still felt guilty about it, blaming himself rather than Jack White. Madden wished he had a way of saying none of it was Jacob's fault, that things just were the way they were, that everything happened because of Jack White's existence. But he knew the man wouldn't buy any of it for the simple reason that he failed his mission to kill Jack first, and that because he failed he opened the door for White to cause trouble. The cop understood why Jacob felt guilty, but he did not want to see him blame himself anymore for it.

He caught a glimpse of a strange action from Jacob, like an unfinished gesture that ended up with him handing over the shirt. Again, nothing said about it, but he made a mental note about it. Now that he had the shirt on, he followed Jacob into the living room, seing him take his gun and knife. He didn't quite understand why he did that. Why would he need his weapons right now? Better safe than sorry was the excuse Max came up with. Strange to think that weapons were what made them feel safe after it had inflicted them so much pain already. Max headed after Jacob outside the apartment, silence being his main name as he walked down the stairs, leading Jacob outside, and eventually to the limousine. The merc would probably not expect that, but Max wished to get it all done as fast as possible.

If Jacob let him, he would get in the driver's seat and start the car, backing out slowly from the parking place, taking upon himself to drive at the right speed. He'd then ask "Where to now?" keeping his eyes on the road. As he sat in the car he wasn't sure if it was his imagination or if it truly started to smell like death inside of it. Paranoid images of Jack White's freshly dead body emerged in his mind, staining his gaze, and making him feel like he was just as dead and rotting as the corpse in the trunk. If Jacob asked where the body was he would reply just that, that it was in the trunk.

Sorry for the door

He flinched as he felt Jacob's arm on his own, suddenly stopping him from moving or touching anything. He looked at him with a mix of worry and anger. What now_oh. He just wanted him to wear gloves. He wasn't sure why it was necessary if they were going to get rid of the car was well. But to reassure the man, he slipped on the gloves before sitting in the driver seat. Jacob attempted to make jokes, but Max really wasn't in the mood to laugh, not right now. Once all was done, he believed there could be a way for him to laugh again, but until then, he was locked into silence, talking only when it was needed. His eyes spoke more for him than his voice, eyeing Jacob with a dead eye at his joke attempt. He wanted to talk to Jacob of course, about the entire happening, but he remained in a locked phase, a statue, moving to accomplish it's purpose.

He drove silently, waiting for Jacob to speak if he will, listening to what he had to say, keeping his calm in the meanwhile. Eventually he came up with the idea to dump everything in the sea. From Max's chemistry lessons, he did remember that salt water destroyed clues like wild fire. He remembered when the harbor got bombed and some of the workers ended up in the water. It was a hell to recover their bodies with all the pieces, and then most things were simply missing. A hell to explain to the families. But Jacob was right, this was the best way to get rid of everything. "It's not like the PD will look for this fucker..." he muttered, heading to the coast, keeping his driving safe for Jacob's sake.

Then Jacob mentioned the bombed harbor. It hadn't been rebuilt, nor did anyone intend to yet. So nothing had changed in the past months following the first bombing. He wondered....Rain must have cleaned the place, things must have changed since that day. He nodded without a word, heading to the place, again, keeping his tongue inside his mouth. He realized that he must be acting very strange to Jacob, and he would make sure to reassure him later. He drove inside the harbor, stopping the car on the edge of the nearest drop. As he opened the door of the car to get out, he was submerged by the salty air of the sea, as well as the sound of calm, small waves, clapping on the rocks and posts. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the fresh air to get out the death in them he had been smelling for far too long.

He wished he could have just stopped here, that he could look out at the dark waters without having to worry about anything else. But his job wasn't done yet. There was one last spot to scrub. He turned to Jacob, running a hand on his bearded chin as his eyes slowly trailed to the car. "Should we burn his belongings before sending him down there?" he asked, knowing that things such as identity cards, keys and other objects of the sort will take much longer to deteriorate in the water.

Sorry for the door

"It doesn't matter now. He's dead, and his lackeys will be fighting to the death to get their money or take his place." he believed his own words were true, and to his mind it made sense. The people around Jack White couldn't possibly love him or enjoy working for him. All they were interested in must be the money and power they were given, nothing more. Right now they may be looking for their boss, but once it is clear he's dead, they'll stop looking for sure. Life of the jungle in the streets of Chicago, all animals, waiting for the predators to fall and take their place.

He didn't really take the time to look around the harbor, knowing too well what he'll see if he did. He knew the post he had been attached to and left for dead before being found by the PD. So he kept his eyes towards the sea before he was bound to get his attention to Jacob and what he was saying. He didn't like the feel of the gloves on his hands, the latex made his hands sweat. He watched as Jacob took out a lighter from his pocket. Max walked to the trunk, looking at it before opening it. He didn't take the time to take off the belongings of Jack White from his corpse. The smell once the trunk was opened, was a horrifying one, like a wave of death and rot dashing out of the vehicle. Had the body been left longer in the car, things would have been worse. Max was docile however and pulled his shirt above his nose, taking out the knife still in Jack's chest, more coagulated blood slowly poring out of the wounds.

It didn't do much more to him to have to search the body for anything that couldn't be dissolved by water. He was a detective, so corpses were pretty common to him, even tho this one was created by him and his demons. The thing that bothered him was mostly the fact that it didn't bother him and that Jacob could see that. It should bother him, or at least it was what he believed. People don't just kill someone and touch the body of whom they've killed again after. He recovered the man's wallet, lighter, smokes, knife and whatever else he could find, as well as the belt. The cop then moved back to the front of the car with the things, setting them on top of the pile Jacob had already created. He thought about looking inside the wallet for money, guessing the man must have quite some cash inside, but he decided he had sinned enough for a day. Stealing a dead man's money shouldn't be a problem, but he just couldn't bring himself to.

"Thank you...Thank you Jacob for being here and helping out." he said, contemplating the pile of objects, waiting for them to be set on fire if Jacob had found a way to get some gasoline on them. Eventually he would close the trunk and find a brick to set it down on the accelerator to send the car straight into the sea if Jacob didn't see any inconvenience to it. Then they could both marvel at how stupid they were for not having another car to drive back. They'll have to walk to the closest subway station, and that could be some time away. But right now Max enjoyed the relief of seeing his problem dive into the sea.

Sorry for the door