By Definition, A Crush Must Hurt 6

"You're probably pretty upset. I don't blame you"
- Frank Mercer, Matchstick Men

The heat seeped into everything, the streets, the houses, even the lights that illuminated the old amusement park nearby seemed to gleam with a hotter, more intense light. Summer had settled on the old city like an great dragon over it's treasure. It smothered and made everything hard to breath, a pillow of humidity pressed against every pore. Nights like this made Tarquin want to move east, run away from the orgy of hang ups and awkward social interactions he had made for himself during his time growing up here. Life had become more like a game of Tetris, more focused on negotiating where to place your baggage in amongst other's, trying to forget, to make it disappear.

His daze was broken by headlights turning into the neglected car park. He swallowed hard, rubbing his face he slowly got out of his car. The headlights illuminated the entrance to the old, forgotten fun park. The amber hue catching the smiling faces of the clown statues, hunched over the main gates like harlequin Gargoyles, their grins once beckoning children in, now took on a much more sinister, insidious turn. The headlights extinguished, returning the car park to in previous dark state and a small, nuggety gentleman got out. Tarquin, moved towards the man, half way between walking and running, halfway between panic and resolution. "Carmine told me you had some information about my brother..." asked Tarquin, trying to remain calm. The nuggety gentleman rubbed his palms on his jacket, sweaty, nervous "Yeah, yeah... right, uhhh. Listen, I don't really know about this man. I'm kinda deep in this shit, I don't wanna turn out like Ozzie..." Tarquin grabbed the man by the collar of his jacket and pushed him up against the door of his car "...what are you deep into?!" Tarquin demanded "What was my brother deep into?! Why are you so afrai..." his clumsy interrogation was cut short by headlights, turning into the carpark, bright, aggressive. This isn't right. The nuggety gentleman's breathing rapidly increased "Ahh Fuck man!" he squirmed, trying to get out of Tarquin's grip.
"Who the fuck is that?!" Tarquin asked "You were followed god damn it!" he cursed, punching the gentleman, the hard bone of his jaw bruising Tarquin's knuckles, the sharp pain through his fingers, the wet smack of sweat and flesh. The ominous headlights approached faster, showing no signs of slowing, showing no signs of changing direction. "Get up!" Tarquin ordered, dragging the nuggety man by the collar, the man pushed Tarquin to the ground "Fuck that, I'm gone!" he ran to get back into the car. The headlights careened towards the car, for a moment, time slowed, Tarquin looked to the car and the nuggety gentleman, then to the old forgotten amusement park gates, then at the blinding headlights. Run. Tarquin dived out of the way, narrowly missing the headlights as they ploughed into the nuggety man, then the car, a sandwich, a mixture of twisted metal and gouged meat. Run. The door to the steaming, blood washed car opened "Mr Dangerfield, I believe I told you..." Mr Niles. "...to let the police do their job!" Run. Mr Niles raised his arm something dull, long, matte black and metal in his blue gloved hand. Run. Tarquin, took a breathe, a beat, a long exhale, and ran towards the gates of the park, the darkness shadowing his escape, blanketing, making it hard to aim. "Tarquin!" Mr Niles sqeezed off three rounds, missing in a shower of sparks and riquochets, he ran after him.

To be continued...