The Noir Evil Read online

  He felt disappointment flood into his system because he speculated that it maybe another passenger about to join them, which slightly irritated him but the shadow strangely remained still and did not move at all. Both his irritation and disappointment soon morphed into concern as the unknown passenger silently stood there whilst attempting to unsuccessfully gaze into the secluded cabin. The solitary dim night light that glowed warmly within the secluded cabin would not help any observant viewer from outside whom wanted to see its interior and so Ness then tried to get a better look at the mysterious person whom was behind the misty glass window, but could not from his disadvantaged viewpoint.

  The mysteriously huge shadow was apparently keenly interested in the private cabin’s interior as its massive frame jostled against the creaking wood for a better view of its secretive interior. An alarmed Ness then slowly and carefully got up from his cushioned seat to investigate the large silhouette further and as he did so, it then suddenly lost interest in continued on its way down the train carriage, making large footsteps as it carried the mysterious stranger’s excessive weight down the carriage. The curious Ness took care not to alarm his two sleeping travel companions as he slowly and carefully opened up the wooden door and eagerly looked out and down the carriages restrictive hallway.

  He just caught an enticingly brief glimpse of the inquisitive intruder as he disappeared around the corridor’s far end, enticing him to follow in its wake. The curious Ness then carefully crept out of the cabin and gentle slid the door closed behind him as he went off down the lonely corridor to investigate the mysterious interloper whom was apparently now eager to elude him. Ness tentatively stopped halfway down the lonely carriage as he had an overwhelming sense of apprehension about the mysterious unknown lurker but he soon pushed this troublesome feeling aside and mustered up enough courage to continue. The old varnished wooden floor creaked under his feet every time he applied pressure down upon the old floors well-worn surface, giving whomever or whatever lurked around the corner an easy way to detect his forthcoming presence.

  He finally got to the end corner of the carriage and stopped before he looked around the corner towards the only location that the shadow could have gone. There was no carriage beyond this one and he slowly leaned his head around the corner whilst he held it back, not wishing to be surprised. He was surprised however because to his amazement there was no one there, just a single window that was slightly ajar and bringing in a small amount of the gentle snowflakes that blanketed the moonlit scenery outside. The intruder had no other place to go except for outside of the fast moving train and into the icy cold night and so a confused Ness then slowly leaned in and looked out of the window and saw nothing but the familiar sight of the fast moving blanket of illuminated snow.

  After a while of confused pondering and admiration for nature’s beauty he then slowly pulled back and looked at his own shadowy reflection within the window until he saw something hideous. Standing directly behind him was something that he could not believe as he saw the same huge silhouette of an ominous black figure whom had being trying to enter his cabin! The exception this time was that it was still completely undiscernible except for the two opening white glowing eyes that where now wholly fixated upon him. Just as he was about to turn around, the unknown shadowy creature then smashed his head through the glass window and into the icy cold night air that relentlessly attacked his stunned face.

  The nameless abomination held his face out of the window with its massive talon-like, hairy clawed hands as a dead tree branch suddenly appeared within the just observable distance. The petrified Ness struggled against the immovable force that held him firmly in place as the quickly approaching tree branch then revealed that it harboured a mystery guest. Perched upon its ill formed branch sat a foreboding looking large owl and its twisted face then suddenly spun around to greet Ness with its huge glowing white eyes. Ness’s face then violently ripped into the tree branch as the screeching owl gazed upon his demise with delight, hitting it with such an immense force that it caused him to uncontrollably scream.

  As he screamed he was then abruptly awoken by the angry looking old woman passenger whom was shaking him frantically to awaken him whilst the scared on looking shy boy cried next to her. The confused and shaken Ness looked at them both as they got up and where apparently leaving him alone within the secluded and lonely cabin. They old women gave him a disgusted look as she left with the crying boy and slammed the door behind them whilst Ness spoke after her, eager to apologise for his unacceptable behaviour “I’m Sorry!” He then gently used his fingers to delinquently inspect his face to ensure that it was all still there and in one piece.

  After a moment’s inspection whereby he used the window, in which he revealingly found that his face was indeed still in one piece, he then realised that he had simply been having a nightmare. This nightmare however was unlike anything that he had experienced before because it had felt so unnervingly real and filled with such confusing symbolism. His mind was filled with wild speculations about the possible hidden Freudian meanings and, as he attempted to interpret his chaotic dream, he then looked out of the window as he felt the train slowing down. He could now see that they were finally arriving at the final stop and his ultimate destination, the dilapidated city of Cleveland’s train station. It was surprisingly hot, humid and sticky within his cabin as he still could not stop sweating after the shame of screaming out loud and most defiantly scaring his two alarmed travel companions.

  To his misery the cooling countryside’s snowy air was soon replaced with the heat of the cities infrastructure and mass of people that crowded the forthcoming platforms. He then collected his suitcase and overcoat and waited patiently to leave the cabin whilst the train slowly came to a standstill, not wishing to leave his sauna-like sanctuary out of shame for potentially meeting both his travel companions again whilst disembarking. He waited until he heard that most of the passengers had left until he finally opened the cabin door and got off the stifling train, somewhat relieved to escape its unsettling interior which had invaded his dreams in such a violent way.

  He was greeted by the unwelcome smell of the smog from the nearby industrial estates and factories that lined the railway stations exterior, invading its area with their powerfully pungent smell which appeared to dominate the surrounding atmosphere. The smog saturated the surrounding air so much so that he involuntarily put a handkerchief towards his face but then stopped for fear of offending some of the other passengers whom were also getting off at the station in a hurry. Ness always was acutely aware of his surroundings and liked to be in control of as much as he could, specifically his own image which was very important to him because he had learnt the importance of image projection back in his Chicago days. He was keenly aware of what the press was writing about him at all times and he had always made a point of buying the local newspaper himself and having close friends and family inform him of how he was generally perceived by the press. He both loved and despised the press in equal measure for a variety of complex reasons but, like in all aspects of life, they had their uses within times of immense need.

  He then placed his suitcase on the ground by the train as the few passengers that where left got off whilst he keenly observed a group of squabbling reporters in the distance. He could see them through the train’s smoke and gentle drizzle of light rain, which had just disappointingly replaced the beautifully falling snow. He thought that it was far too hot and muggy to be bothered by a throng of squabbled vulture-like reporters whom, he could see off in the distance, where awaiting him to make a precious comment about how he felt about his new position of Safety Director. He was tired after his long journey on the train from Chicago and did not appreciate how cramped the shared cabin had been with the old lady and presumably, her grandson. He also thought that the cabins air conditioning was not working properly because of how easily he had drifted to sleep, effortlessly falling into his apparent nightmare which still bothered him
with its tangible realism.

  Although he slept most of the way here the sleep he had gotten was not deep sleep and as the night train had drifted ever closer to Cleveland, he came to realize that it was not just his cabin that was getting hotter. For some strange reason he could not ascertain why the weather was so odd because although it was December, albeit a mild December compared to others, he had not bargained for the amount of humidity and smog that Cleveland’s nearby industrial area could produce. The smog visibly hung over the station like a foul odour that saturated everything within its grasp so much so in fact that he was actually sweating due to the oddly immense humidity that was still resonating from the train’s hot engine. He was even a little confused because on the way here the countryside had been so beautifully covered in thick snow only to have suddenly changed once he awoke from his traumatic nightmare.

  He looked again at the gaggle of distant reporters as they started to shout questions at him but he was still too far away to understand them, especially over the noise of both the train and passengers whilst they disembarked. He was here by invitation from both the Mayor, Harold Burton and the Congressman, Martin Sweeney to try and clean-up the corruption from within their police department. He was also tasked with helping to root-out organized crime as well as helping to lower the traffic death’s that where shamefully recorded to be the worst in the country for the last three consecutive years. Tonight of all nights he had no time for the reporter’s barrage of unrelenting questions, albeit he usually always had time for them due to him loving the positive column inches that he accumulated over the years.

  He enjoyed re-reading his positive press so much that he would often read them over and over again with a nice hot coffee and by a warm fireplace. He would always cut them out and add them to his own treasured collection of newspaper clippings that had been ever expanding since his days of crime fighting during prohibition. His famous exploits against Al ‘Scarface’ Capone and his bootlegging operations in Chicago where borderline legendary now and since these days he had been treasuring any mention of himself within the press, as long as it was positive press of course. He was tired after the long and arduous journey and his clothes where too sweaty and smelt far too bad to get close to a gaggle of reporters whom would examine his every fault with extreme precision.

  He then noticed within the train’s window that his hair was out of place and so he desperately attempted to adjust it by using it as a mirror. After a while and only when he was truly satisfied that his hair was parted the way he liked it, he finally put on his well-worn and trusty hat which cemented his unruly hair into place. He then took off his stifling jacket to briefly to allow the fresh air to circulate around his damp body and once again, looked at himself in the train window to ensure that he looked respectable if somebody managed to take a photograph of him. He then irritably rubbed off some dirt that he had noticed from his newly polished and expensive spectator shoes that he had just bought only the other day whilst in a fashionable area of Chicago.

  He then focused upon his beloved three piece grey suit that he was wearing as he unbuttoned the tight waistcoat to relieve the pressure that was uncomfortably building up around his waist. It had been given this suit by an old flame back in Chicago and it reminded him of their exciting, secret and illicit rendezvous that always ended with them passionately making love. This particular suit had the added effect of making him feel more masculine due to its long and successful history with women and he almost admired it in a way. Almost as much as he admired his own boyish good looks before he was rudely and reluctantly pulled out from his realm of self-admiration and forced back into reality as he heard a distant reporter shout “Ness! Time for a quick question!?”

  Ness stood there and was slightly annoyed at being dragged kicking and screaming out of his pleasant imaginations and back into the unpleasant reality that he currently resided in. He ignored the distant reporter’s question whilst he slid on his long beige trench coat before then placing his hands deep within its pockets, ensuring not to make eye contact with the distant reporters. The reporters were thankfully not allowed to come onto the passenger platform area and where being held there by a single, lonesome security man whom looked a little scared and out of his depth as he barely managed to contain the unruly masses.

  Ness then curiously surveyed his surroundings and noticed that the station itself was what he had expected of an industrial powerhouse like Cleveland. It was slightly more dilapidated than he had anticipated and he knew that it had seen better, more prestigious days within its long past. His thoughts about times cruelty where then again interrupted as he heard the reporters jostling in the distance for his attention again and allowed himself a rare sly smirk to appear upon his face. He secretly adored the limelight and the frantic attention that his mere presence could effortlessly produce and considered it almost as a natural gift that he had acquired back in Chicago. He did not wish to show this pleasure however so he had taken the liberty to disguise this rare showing of emotion by pulling down the rim of his hat so that it covered most of his face.

  This particular grey fedora hat he had had since his glory prohibition days of chasing Al Capone’s bootlegging men around Chicago whilst his loyal team of Untouchables was by his side. He often thought of it as his lucky charm and he handled it with the tenderness and kindness of a mother with her newly born baby, which was in stark contrast to the way he felt that he had been treated by the internal revenue service. He hated the I.R.S with a passion because of how they had treated him with distain and contempt for not choosing to prosecute Capone with his hard fought bootlegging case. Instead they opted to claim all the credit for themselves by only prosecuting him for their tax evasion case which they knew they would undoubtedly get a conviction for.

  Ness felt cheated after he and his loyal band of Untouchables had done all the dirty work like breaking into his bootlegging facilities all over Chicago and facing his men with gun barrels shoved in their faces. Whereas the taxmen just sat in their offices and slowly yet methodically built up there case against the famed mobster and his numerous illicit business dealings. They had all seen Capone locked up in Alcatraz without him or his men ever having their day in court and although he knew that the good people of Chicago hated tax evaders much more that bootleggers, which would ultimately lead to his conviction, he still felt hard done by the I.R.S and somehow felt cheated out of the limelight that he craved for. He was a realist and knew that Capone would have got off his bootlegging case which is why they prosecuted him for the tax evasion instead but it still hurt not having his newspaper clippings of himself facing down the smug Capone in court. They would have made legendary clippings to add to his ever expanding collection and everyday he thought about it, it only made him become bitterer and more twisted with resentment as time passed.

  He paused for a second before placing a cigarette into his wanting mouth and was surprised to see that his hand shook whilst holding the lighter near his face. He then attempted numerous times to light up his cigarette without success and so he irritatingly shook his hand until it settled, theorising that he had not fully emotionally recovered from his alarmingly real life nightmare. He then pleasurably lit up the cigarette and eagerly puffed on its anxiety relieving rich tobacco and knew what his body was silently telling him, that he should take another fix of his beloved new addiction, opium. He conveniently stored his vast supply of pills within his beautifully crafted small, silver art-deco pill box that was always located within his left side waistcoat pocket.

  He had initially started taking opium in order to calm him down and relax himself in socially anxiety provoking situations, such as the one he currently found himself in now. He had found that its positive effects where a lot more productive than his usual beloved scotch had ever been, the very same scotch that he had adored since his university days and which, ironically he even secretly drank during his bootlegging busting days. He found the miraculous effects of opium to be a
lot more quicker acting and with less of the bad symptoms of alcohol such as the financial cost and the accompanying headaches the following day. He then took his glowing cigarette from his mouth whilst his hand shook and awkwardly took out his small silver pill box, carefully opened it and eagerly downed a precious opium pill.

  He then put the box back within his waistcoat pocket and took out a small flask of his favourite scotch from his inner jacket pocket and drank some of the blessed nectar to hasten the pills demise. He then put the flask back and eagerly continued to smoke whilst his hand still shook, nervous of anyone seeing his secret addiction but satisfied that all anxiety would be gone within twenty minutes time. Ness was used to taking advantage of what life had thrown at him since his childhood days and he had by no means had a hard life but he had always felt as though he could achieve much more.

  He had been a good student whose mother, Emma had spoiled him terribly with nice clothes as well as many books to read and his favourite of these where the Sherlock Holmes detective novels. However even with this abundance of love at home he still could not abolish his social anxiety and shyness that stayed with him until this very day. His sister Clara married a young justice department agent named Alexander Jamie who fascinated him with his government exploits and even taught him how to shoot a colt official police revolver when he was young but still, although this sparked his interest in law enforcement he could never shake his social awkwardness.

  This accursed social anxiety had made him somewhat of a recluse recently, ever since the Capone and I.R.S case had come to dominate his mind and so he had decided to sort himself out by taking some of the blessed pill before he accepted this exciting new positon in Cleveland. Ness smiled to himself whilst he eagerly smoked his cigarette with a calming hand as he recalled his poetic nickname that he was given by his fellow students whilst in school, considering it to be ironic within his current mental state, “Elegant Mess”.