Central Park 1995
A chilly autumn breeze swept through Central Park causing the aging leaves to sway in a rhythmic motion from their comfortable oak and elm trees. The sun was setting behind the infamous New York City skyline and the inhabitants of the world's most famous city were abuzz with the start of fall. The blazing trademark humidity of the New York summer had finally passed as shown in the fresh-off-the-runway jackets many New Yorkers were already sporting. Disassociated couples and singles strolled through the carefully paved pathways, many of them eager to get home before the park was completely covered by the vast darkness.
In a section of the park that seemed completely void of human interaction, an ordinary looking balding man sat on a frayed wooden bench seemingly staring into nonbeing. He was adorned in a classic black trench coat and a budding mustache atop his upper lip seemed to shiver in the breeze. He sat silently, his eyes flickering from one treetop to the next as if his purpose there was completely amicable. Never did he turn his head of move his facial characteristics; he just sat silently still gazing straight ahead of him.
A few minutes later as a shadow was cast upon his section of the park an ordinary looking woman casually approached the bench. Her hair was tied up into a slick bun and her nonchalant facial expression was accessorized with black wide-rimmed glasses. She too was wearing a perfectly fitted black over coat that appeared all to prevalent. She sat down next to the man, and yet he still did not turn or move, not even acknowledging her presence. They sat quietly for a minute or so before the man finally turned to face her.
No greetings were exchanged, only slightly noticeable nods. "You come at an untimely hour Ms. Smith." he pronounced in a perfectly crafted English accent.
She stared at him for a second that loosened her tightly pursed lips. "Why Mr. Jones, it is only for the need is desperate and the sirens for help have gone unanswered."
"You know I cannot technically help with your problem. We are general enemies, only collaborating in apocalyptic times of need. We despise you and everything you stand for and the fact that you are desperate enough to come to us is humiliating on your behalf." his voice bore the remnants of a once firm negotiator.
"Mr. Jones do you think I would be here, risking not only my job, but my life for something that is miniscule and not worthy of your time?" her voice shifted into a slightly colder tone. "We need help and I would not be here but I happened to remember a certain favor we carried out for you at the origins of our beginnings."
He thought about this for a second then moved uncomfortably in his seat. "Ms. Smith, how foolish it is of you to bring up such obsolete doings, only remembered by the very founders of our organizations." he snapped, his face contorted in a flash of emotion, then returning to its normal state.
"Mr. Jones, however powerful you and your superiors think you may be in influence; we hold our power in information. And lack of honor on your part, despite whether we are enemies or close friends, will result in our information being used against you and your constituents. You think we are bad now, this is not even war Mr. Jones." she quickly rebutted an edge of sternness swiftly developing in her voice. She then proceeded to lean forward and whisper, "We know about the boy and we are willing to utilize this information," into his ear before gradually returning to her sitting position.
The man known as Mr. Jones' eyes widened and a look of horrified surprise spread throughout his face like a ripple in a small pond. "How..." he stammered for words, but it was clear he had been caught off guard.
"That doesn't matter. Now, either you help us get out of this mess that for once you haven't caused, or we take the boy." she smiled slyly for she now had the upper hand.
"Such demands are absurd! You could never take the boy. Hollow threats, that's all you and your society is." he cried his eyes clearly burning with fear.
"Really? Would you like to test that to see how empty we really are? You think we have lost touch, that we are fading. Well I believe that when the time comes, you will be quite surprised with our progress and your surprise will be the end of you." she tilted her head and smiled corruptly.
Mr. Jones sat silently staring down at his lap. "Why did I agree to meet you here. My associates don't know where I am for all I knew you could have come to kill me. When you asked to meet me I thought it would be for a surrender of some sorts. You have found yourself in a hole that of which you cannot climb out of, and we do not intend to pull you out." his voice was filled with rage and his accents fell on the first syllable of each word.
The sun had completely set now and the moon was slowly making its way up into the unusually clear night sky. Ms. Smith looked down at her shoulder and brushed a leaf off that had just drifted down from a nearby oak tree. As her eyes returned to the spot where Mr. Jones had just been sitting she was nothing less then surprised to see that if was empty, and any memory of him being there was gone in a whisk of oblivion.