I looked him over. He was wearing old jeans, a rumpled t-shirt and a flannel shirt with crude patches on the elbows, looking like one of Peter Pan's Lost Boys.
'Hi, Mickey. I'm Matthew.'
He was silent for a few moments, as though debating something with himself. Then, finally, he said:
'Listen. I overheard you asking about a man with blue eyes and a scar.'
Now he had my full attention.
'I did. Why?'
He glanced quickly behind his shoulder.
'Not here. Meet me in the alley outside in ten minutes.'
I nodded slowly and turned back to the door.
The alley was deserted and messy. The ground was covered in ice, and littered with old cigarette stubs. It was cold, too, so I hid my hands in the pockets and waited, wondering if luck had finally smiled on me.
Ten minutes crawled by, but Mickey didn't show up. I waited for a couple more minutes and was starting to get nervous when there was a sound of quick steps behind me. I turned around in time to see someone's fist flying into my face.
I was more surprised than scared. I was never was one to start a fight, but working in places where I worked has taught me a couple of lessons. The person throwing the punch, on the other hand, clearly didn't know what they were doing. So it wasn't hard to lean back and let the fist flow by.
It was Mickey. He really leaned into the punch, so when it didn't land, inertia pulled him to the side, and he slipped on the ice with a startled 'shit!'.
He crashed hard on the ground, tearing the sleeve of his flannel shirt.
I wasn't sure what was happening, but he didn't look very threatening flopping on the icy ground. So I extended my hand to help him get up and said:
'Uh... are you alright? What the hell?'
'Fuck you, bastard!'
He angrily pushed away my hand and raised shakily to his feet.
'Don't touch me, fucker!'
I frowned.
'Listen, whatever you think is happening...'
'Oh I know what is happening, motherfucker! I knew there were pieces of shit like you, but damn, to actually see one! I'm going to fuck you up, asshole!'
What the hell was he going on about? And did he really have to use such language?
'Listen, Mickey. I have no idea what you're talking about.'
'Don't fucking deny it, fucker! You're spying for the PA! On your OWN FUCKING PEOPLE!'
To say that it was the last thing I was expecting to hear was to say nothing.
'... What the fuck are you talking about?'
I guess he probably saw how stunned I was, but it didn't throw him one bit.
'Come on, you think I'm a fucking fool? Yesterday the Bitch shows up with all these questions about Zero, and the next day some fucker is looking for him at the club! It wasn't hard to put two and two together!'
Oh. "The Bitch" he was reffering to was most likely the Protector. So... I wasn't the only one to get a visit from her. Which meant that Mickey, too, was her ward.
It was logical to assume that I wasn't her only wraith, but somehow I never did. Until now, that is, and it was making me feel weird. For some reason, the idea of an obnoxious little poser like Mickey being tested by her made me... angry.
That said, I understood his reasoning. If he was shown the same photo as me, and then heard me asking around about the man with blue eyes, he had a sound basis to think that I'm a PA lapdog sniffing around for game.
But, more importantly, Mickey called the man with blue eyes Zero. Which meant that he knew something about him, more than me at least. I had to get him on my side.
I slowly raised my hand, palms open.
'Listen, Mickey. You got it all wrong. I'm not working for the Protector.'
'Oh yeah?! So this is all a fucking coincidence?''
'I mean yeah, she showed me the photo. But it's not why I'm here.'
'Then why the fuck are you here?!'
How to explain?
'This man.. Zero? I've never seen him until yesterday. He... he kinda ambushed me on the street.'
Mickey was staring up at me with anger, his fists clenched tight. But there was a little doubt in his eyes now, too.
'What do you mean he ambushed you?'
'Well, I was hanging with my friend in a club, and when we were leaving, he was standing on the street. And he said something to me.'
Oh my. The words "hanging", "friends" and "club" really left my lips, making me sound like a cool person who engaged in things like that on a regular basis.
'What did he say?'
'I don't know. It was a bunch of nonsense. But he mentioned my mom, as though he knew her.'
'So why did you come here and not to your mom's?'
I took a deep breath.
'Because I can't. They took her to the Farm when I was sixteen.'
Mickey blinked. He was still staring at me, but the anger was gone, replaced with something like empathy. He was silent for a few moments, and then slowly exhaled and unclenched his fists.
'Shit, man. I'm sorry.'
I gave him a small, crooked smile.
'Yeah, me too. But, you see. That's why I need to find him. I need to know what he knows.'
Mickey frowned.
'Can you maybe help me find him? Or at least tell me something that will help?'
He pursed his lips.
'Listen, Mickey. How about we go back inside and talk?'
'Don't be a fool. We can't talk about this in the club.'
I raised my eyebrows.
'Why?'
'Because the PA has ears there.'
'How do you know?'
Mickey smiled.
'Come on, are you an idiot? You think they don't know about this place? Of course they do. And the only reason they allow it to exist is because they have someone inside'
'But... but why would a wraith work for the Protectors?'
He shook his head.
'Man, you really are that naive, aren't you? Think about it, Matthew. If you're a wraith, who has all the carrots, and even more stick? The PA. And are we immune to either bribery or blackmail? Fucking no.'
He... had a good point. And I was starting to understand that he was a lot smarter than I initially thought.
Mickey sighed.
'Lucky for you, Matthew, you've met me. And if you want to find Zero and stay alive, you're definitely gonna need my help.'