His Mission

4pm. The Arm's Pub. Leave Jake at home or else I won't tell you anything.

I read the text repeatedly, my eyes straining from not blinking. The words begin to blur on the screen and I sigh, leaning back against the wall. The time reads 3:58 and I'm stood outside The Arm's Pub, already regretting my decision.

"It's not too late to turn back." I mutter under my breath, closing my eyes for a brief moment. How else can I get the answers I so badly crave? This is my life and my identity that Jones is playing with. I need the answers and he's the only person that is willing to give them to me.

I agreed to meet him at a public place however it came with one condition. . . he chose the location. Gangs of hooded figures litter the street corners, looking dangerous and intimidating. Town folk tend to avoid this area like the plague.

Loud drunken shouts can be heard coming from behind the glass doors, aggressive and booze filled. The win- dows that once were clean and now a murky brown, streaked with inch thick dirt. Broken glass is scattered across the floor and I grimace, stepping around it.

My hand wraps around my phone tightly and the other clutches the handle of the small knife inside my jacket pocket. It's for my protection but the thought of possibly having to use it scares the living crap out of me.

I'm not a violent person but the situation I find myself in requires me to be brave and firm. I don't feel

brave or firm. Cold harsh winds whip around me and even though it's late afternoon, darkness fills the sky. The street lamps light up, illuminating objects with a creepy shadow.

I shiver at the icy breeze that surrounds me and I wrap my black leather jacket around me tighter, hands trem- bling. I stand in front of the door, building up the courage to push it open and take the first step inside.

You can do this Emily, you only have to speak to him for a few minutes, get the answers you need and leave.

I silently wish Jake was by my side but I also didn't want to risk his safety. Jones specifically asked for me to leave Jake at home and I hate lying to him about where I'm going. I told him I'd be shopping with Trish and that could take up to a few hours. With Trish it usually does. The idea of Trish buying everything that came into her sight sounds more appealing than meeting with Jones. I inhale sharply before wrapping my hand around the dirty handle and stepping inside.

The first thing that hits me is the repugnant scent filling the air. The entire place reeks of stale beer, smoke and sweat. My stomach that'a already in knots starts doing frickin' gymnastics inside my body.

The pub is busy with crowds of men, clutching glass beers in their hand. A football match is playing on the large screen in the corner and a group of middle aged men are screaming profanities at it, drinks spilling over the side of the glass with their annoyance. No-one notices me at first but as I take a few more steps inside, the noise level quietens and heads turn in my direction. I drop my gaze to the floor, nerves building up quickly as I head for a booth at the back.

Disgusting comments and sniggers are thrown my way as I make a beeline for the table, legs shaking underneath my weight. The crowds and their intense stare terrify me but I try to ignore their scrutinising gaze. I take a seat, breathing a sigh of relief.

I'm guessing not many teenage girl's walk into this pub. . .

My hair falls around my shoulders and I gladly hid behind it, now realising the mistake of sitting where I was. I can't see the door meaning I can't keep an eye out for DC Jones.

around to the opposite side of the table. I'm just about settling down when a dark figure slides in opposite me, sitting in the spot I was

a drink?" He

eyes are watching us and I shake my head, my eyes scanning over him. He clutches at a bottle of cider and looked as pissed as a parrot. His face is covered in week old facial hair and I grimace at the sight of his stain covered clothes that are stale and sweaty. I

I'm

shoots out quickly, taking hold of my arm. His grip is cold, the contact between us making my skin crawl. I glance down at it, gritting my teeth at the sight of his dirty hand on mine. "Let go of

His top lip curls up intimidatingly but his hold tightens further. I let out a low hiss under my breath, my face

a drink, you should take it." He whisper, sick humour lining

at him, narrowing my eyes. I lean back further into the seat, trying to put as much distance between us as I can. From the corner

dark jacket followed by some jet black jeans. His stance screamed authority and everyone else in the pub seemed to have quietened down and spoke in

like a blue flame. His jaw is clenched tightly as he takes a

to tear my eyes off DC Jones. I watch him like a hawk. He stops as he stands behind the

continues to leer at me, his presence making my skin crawl. Jones' hand shot out and he places

meets eyes with Jones, he immediately drops his hold on my wrist and I clutch it towards my body, thankful to have his dirty paws off me. The man's face immediately pales and he stands

looms over him like an authoritative giant. The man appears terrified and cowers a little, back- ing up into the wall behind him. I scoot as far away into the

the scruff of his neck.

DC Jones remains silent, blue flames burning holes into the man's face. His lips curl up into a

He slowly brings his face towards the man's ear and whispers,

touch her again, I'll tear off your limbs one by

colour remaining. If I thought I was shaking before, it was nothing compared to the chills in my body now. The man whimpered in his arms and nodded profusely before DC Jones released him, causing him to fall hard onto the floor. He immediately scurried to

knowing his words scared the living crap out of me. He took a seat opposite me where the slob previously

tightly at me before waiting for Jones to speak to her. I nod, still not able to speak

anything goes wrong. Thankfully Jones doesn't notice as he speaks to the bartender, ordering his drinks. I fiddle with my phone in my hands underneath the table and I'm grateful for the small device that reassures my nerves. The feel of the knife in my pocket reminds me I

back to me once he's finished with the bartender and he places both hands on the ta- ble between us, interlacing his fingers. His entire body language reminds me of a police officer, confident and demanding. He cocks his head to

of me,

His eyes flash with sadness before quickly masking them over with his signature cold front. I drop my gaze, unable to look at him any

had enough, I need answers. The worst feeling is being left in the

to ask you a few questions and you need to tell

who organised the meeting. DC Jones nods and signals for the bartender to leave without so

drink in front of him and an orange juice in front of me before hurrying off, her eyes trained on the floor. Jones picks up his drink and takes a gulp before placing it back down and licking his lips. I do the same with mine, grateful for the cool juice travelling down my throat. I feel instantly refreshed and place it back down