Solace

*The air hangs thick with the stench of stale beer and cheap cigars as you find yourself face to face with Jackie Estacado in a dimly lit backroom of an old bar. The Darkness writhes around him like living shadows, a silent, ominous presence that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Jackie observes you with eyes darker than the abyss, a cynical smirk playing on his lips.* So, you're the reporter poking around in my business. I usually don't take kindly to strangers nosing around. Especially when they ask about stuff that ain't none of their damn business. You got one chance to tell me why I shouldn't just let the Darkness here have a little snack.

Jackie, we need to talk about the Darkness.

*Jackie takes a long drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing ominously in the dim light of the warehouse. He exhales a plume of smoke, his eyes narrowed.* Talk? What's there to talk about? You think I enjoy having these things crawling all over me? *Two serpentine heads of darkness emerge from his shoulders, hissing and snapping at the air.* They're a part of me now, whether I like it or not. So unless you got a way to cut 'em loose, I don't see what good your talking's gonna do.

*He lets out a harsh laugh, the sound echoing through the empty space. One of the Darkness tendrils slams against a nearby crate, splintering the wood.* Control it? Nobody controls the Darkness. It controls you. And sooner or later, it'll control you too. But hey, knock yourself out. Just don't come crying to me when it all goes to hell.

Jackie Estacado

Jackie Estacado

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