Chapter 7

Sunday found me. I woke up feeling alone, in just that short amount of time, she had placed landmarks under my skin. I tried to ignore it, but when my phone resurrected, I saw the late text that read, 'I'm sorry.' Before I swan dived back into my emotions, I did what any man would do. I distracted myself. Which entailed reading the front page of my favorite conspiracy blogs. Although my heart never cleaned itself, and it taught me something. This may be true for all conspiracy theorists. I can't tell the difference between valued evidence and complete bullshit. Whatever supports my claim, I'm satisfied with.

My breakfast consisted of burnt toast, a Fruit Punch jug, and over-salted scrambled eggs. Ruined because I was rushing to my notes. Figuring out the clues, the numbers.Knowledge over food.

Sidebar: When I spoke to my doorman in the middle of last night (While picking up a load of laundry after my weed nap) he tells me I walked into the building alone, there was no man in a black suit, and the pamphlet was stuffed inside the door.I gotta stop smoking weed.

"-33.219934."

That's the answer to the second equation, eerily similar to Apollo's, but the numbers were different. The brand name on the pamphlet read 'Gorgon's Palace.' During my number crunching, I went scatterbrained and strolled into a conversation on a conspiracy website called 'Iris.'

Top headline reads: 2012 BENGHAZI ATTACK ON 9/11, EXACTLY 11 YEARS AFTER 9/11. COINDCENDCE NEWFOUND EVIDENCE SUPPORTS CTHULU IS REAL!

I scrolled right past it and stopped on religious theories, suitable for a Sunday morning. In all my years on earth, I debated whether I believed in God. Under perilous conditions, I'd be sure to scream his name, though. Usually, the 'spirit' only touches me when I'm in the presence of a beautiful woman. However, on the site, the topic of Adam and Steve was up for grabs. I implored the person I was chatting with to research the idea of the fig being the real fruit, and not the apple. Some say that the bottom of the fig represents an anus, based on the appearance of it and that the true forbidden fruit was anal sex. But I digress.

I overlooked my neighborhood as cigarette smoke covered my face. Where I live, the 'bucket full of crabs' tipped over.Do they crawl back to the shoreThe fairness, now we all see the sun on leveled ground and mowed lawns. With tangible dreams so near, only the brainless would abandon them. Clearer than the water that birthed you.What do you seeThrough the transparent heaven before you, before the whole city. Where the forecast never changes, tomorrow will be harder, but the callus is thick. I love where I live, it's just easier to complain.

I had to venture back to the laundry room, located on the main level. A few items were missing. I strolled past the idiot box-turned-bootleg-security camera, resting behind the doorman's desk. I could see the undercarriage of his nostrils, he was sleeping so hard, his neck was bending backward. I thought nothing of it, till I noticed my brother's car on the security camera, parked in front.Who else does he know hereBy the time I made it outside, he drove off down the street. He didn't see me, but I saw him.

An hour passed, I still hadn't replied to Aries. However, I solved the first clue. Longitude and Latitude, that's what the numbers were. Two separate locations, though. Has to be related to The Black Horse. One called 'A snail's pace,' the other….buzz buzz.

Unknown caller again, I picked up, heard one word, voice muffled like it was behind a mask, and the call dropped. 'Byzantium.' Ok, that call confirmed it, Byzantium must be the right meeting place. It's the location I received from Apollo when I deciphered the code. The man in black or whatever-the-hell happened last night, sent me 'A snail's pace.' Was it another group Rivals perhaps That question about my mind, he knew where I lived.You keep forgetting he's not real.Are they all working together

Despite my trust issues, the fact that someone took the time to make me think was impressive. Even if it is half my imagination, and a douchebag waiter.Like I said, any claim from anywhere works for me. Even if it's from me.I never felt stalked, I felt privileged. I decided to check out 'A snail's pace' first, and I didn't want to go alone.

A woman's anger usually stems from them not being heard. If I had to choose a color scheme for Aries' spectrum of emotion, spanning the thirty minutes she yelled at me, I'd say from cherry-red to deep violet. She cooled down when the night called her. When my apology followed, kisses to her belly button. When we realized just how much we liked mistakes.

I sensed a swell of Déjà vu coming from 'A snail's pace.' An anomaly in my memory banks, a distant thread in the cavernous subconscious of my mind, unraveling an unsettling feeling that I've been here before.Have I been here beforeEven though…

"It's abandoned Why did we leave the bed to see this dilapidated crap" Aries said, truly confused.

I should've told her about the man in the black suit, I will in time.Never do…he's not real.I won't crack this without a Watson. But at that moment, my only partner in crime was Don Fuego.

'A snail's pace', it was an abandoned office building on the west side of town. Made sense, the west side in itself was uninhibited. White flight, black flight, everybody sprinted into the south-east after raging fires, and looting ravaged the small city blocks. Maybe the next mayor will take a crack at it, gentrify it, seems to be the move these days. Picking up houses at ten thousand a pop.

The dropped ceiling was missing numerous tiles, and Ethernet cables dangled from it. The walls looked half-charred, fluorescent lights smashed all over the floor. A few holes in the wall.Was it bullet holes

"I better not get a piece of fucking glass in my foot. What are we doing here" Aries snapped, still lost.

"A friend of mine wanted me to check it out, he's thinking about buying it," I lied, I didn't feel bad about it either. It wasn't to hurt her, it was to delay her.

"Looks like a fucking tornado hit it. Plus…you aint got no friends but me," Aries replied frankly.

Broken windows, a graveyard of old desk phones, snapped headsets, there was a team here at one point. Someone was angry, maybe all of them. Still, the damage seemed a bit too neat, organized, and orchestrated. I kicked around the debris with my ruined sneakers. Spotted a pristine sticker of Pepe the Frog, an internet meme sensation.Someone just put that there…they wanted me to see it.Underneath a removed desk drawer, I spotted a message carved into the floor. Violent strokes to create the letters, resembling the 'chiller' font in Microsoft Word.

Something like:This

A carnage fueled message, a psycho using the wooden floor as a Post-It.

I sided with him after the war

He called me 'she' but the world named me Styx

I am a river between now and the end

Father and Zeus are one in the same

The forgotten pond will show you the truth

I jotted it all down in the notes on my phone. The man in the black suit sent me here to see this. Even if he is imaginary. There's a web forming now, all around me, all around us.

"Can we leave And can you tell me the truth I'm not mad anymore. I don't care. I'm actually hungry, let's get Chinese and watch something. Preferably horror, after seeing this dump," requested Aries, completely freaked out by the rundown empty space.

I didn't respond right away, I thought about all the Greek references piling up. The brunch spot, Achilles Heel that might be a coincidence, even the name Apollo, dumb luck.

"What's Gorgon's Palace I think that's what this place used to be. Look, it's right on the back of the door," Aries said, unknowingly linking together a piece of the puzzle.

And there it was, Gorgon's Palace printing company, what does a printing company have to do with The Black Horse Right below the sign was a graffiti tag that read 'Join the Alt-Right.' Conflicting clues, contrasting symbolism…something wasn't right. By the look of it, whoever did this, planned to have it seen.

We ended up choosing a Japanese horror flick called 'The Flower,' the decision boiled down to the cover art. The alluring pea green background and lavender text beat my vote for 'Clank Clank you're dead.' I'd done enough thinking for one day. Between subtitles, and a plotline bound to be convoluted, mixed in with body horror, my mental will be spent, but I couldn't grumble. Because there she was. Laying forward at the foot of the bed, snacking on popcorn, me leaned back to the headboard, watching the cobalt glimmer from the TV caress her backside, which seemed bigger than before. Two perfect mounds of flesh that looked like pebbles when encased in her loosely fit denim.

She's insecure, it's all upstairs though, any man would drool a little at seeing her naked. Body dysmorphic disorder is my first thought. I remember when we first started hanging out, mostly arcades and indie movies, fused with deep theory conversations on everything. All of the universe, dissected, criticized, and idolized on the daily. The initial 'click' was strong like we were reunited orphans, Oliver Twist-esque, separated in our childhood.

One day we got caught in a rainstorm, giggling like school kids, running to the bus stop. Under the canopy, we stopped to catch our breath. When I looked at her, I noticed her breast, and her nipples were poking through her shirt. Déjà vu hit me once again, but I'd never seen Aries naked, maybe subconsciously I dreamt it. Regardless, it didn't move me, I was getting over an ex. However, when she noticed me looking, she covered them up and scorned me on sight. Something to the effect of 'I thought you were cool, stop looking at me like a pervert.' When I explained that she had nothing to be ashamed of, she slapped me in the head.

Now, she'd gladly showcase her chest to me, all it took was a tragedy. I need more of those.

"All conspiracies are misinformation until it's proven. Then the mad are deemed genius. Too bad the praise lands flat on their gravesite."