Beep! Beep! Beep!

The obnoxious sound of the alarm clock penetrated the silent room, supposedly waking Jebidiah from his third sleepless night in a row. Rubbing his heavy, bloodshot eyes, he got out of the bed, tossing the nowhere near long enough to cover his entire body blanket onto the floor. Having observed the dark room for the better part of the last six hours, he navigated the spotless path from where he stood to the bathroom in the matter of two steps. Ducking under the doorway, he stopped at the small mirror attached to the front of the medicine cabinet. He flipped the lightswitch up and drowned in the light flooding from the uncovered lightbulb dangling freely from the ceiling. Squinting into the mirror, he noticed that amidst the normal signs of sleep deprivation he was showing, the glare from the light bulb on the mirror was near blinding, even as he tried to limit the light intake.

He reached for the handle on the sink and pulled it towards him, allowing a stream of cold water to pour from the nozzle into the bowl. Pushing the button type thing that controlled the sink plug, he stood, hands on the sides of the bowl, waiting for it to fill up. As he waited, the light gradually grew less and less overbearing and his eyes opened back up. Finally, when the bowl was three quarters of the way filled up, Jeb pushed the handle back to its original position and closes his eyes once more before dunking his head in the near ice cold water.

The water's frigidness struck him almost immediately.

After several seconds, he resurfaced. Water droplets leaked off the sides of his face and cascaded down his lengthy beard. Eyes wide open. He grabbed a washcloth that was previously laying on the counter and used it to dry his face.

Knock! Knock knock!

"Grrr..." he muttered before looking down at his normal attire, which he decided to attempt sleep in the night prior. Content with the lack of damning stains, he shut off the bathroom light and stomped his way out of the room, towards the front door and source of the knocks.

"What's happenin', ya big sonuvabitch?" asked Nicolas Ray Abbot as Jeb opened the door, almost as if this was an average, everyday occurrence: knock on someone's door at 5:00 AM and make small talk as if you saw each other at the local cafe. His nonchalant demeanor conflicted with the charcoal black three piece suit he was wearing. Navy blue, white dress shirt, all the makings for a standard, stereotypical lawyer though despite his name and apparent enough southern accent, he didn't look like a southerner.

He did however, look like a rat.

Jeb wasn't sure whether or not that was a good thing, however with his needed passage into the seedy underbelly of society, it wouldn't hurt to have someone who has at least some semblance of that life. As of right now, Jeb rationalized, it was better than nothing.

"What, not gonna greet me? Oh shit, right." With that and not a word further, he stepped through the open door, past Jeb and continued further into the house, briefcase in hand bouncing awkwardly as he made his way towards a table in the corner of the main room. Setting the case on the desk in front of him as he took his seat in front of it, he silently waved Jeb over to him as if he was the owner of the house and the large man approaching him was his guest. Jeb took the seat across from him, sliding a pen and notepad over to himself and pulling the cap off.

"Ya know, I've been doing my homework on ya Jeb. Or at least, I tried." Nicolas reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a cigarette case. "Mind if I smoke in here?"

Jeb shook his head - no, but that didn't stop Nicolas from doing it anyway. He took one of cigarettes out of the case and stuck it between his lips, before sliding the case back into his pocket. On the other side of the jacket, in an interior pocket was the lighter, which he pulled out before sparking it and lighting the end. Jeb shook his head, but ultimately didn't protest.

Nicolas pried open both locks on his briefcase and set the ashtray he carried on him at all times on the table. "You're a hard man to keep up with."

Jeb nodded, a sly smile formed on his lips.

"Ya know that the name 'Jebidiah James' brings up a dead end, right?"

Once again, Jeb nodded.

"I see, nice pseudonym ya got there."

That's my legal name now, Mr. Abbot. Jeb scribbled on the paper before flashing it to his guest.

"Very well," he said, tapping the ashes off the end of the cigarette into the ashtray. "Now, whatever ya did in the past might not seem very important-"

It isn't. What's important is what happened to me.

"Precisely. But in order to help ya out with that, I'm gonna need to know who you mighta pissed off."

Nobody.

"Surely, it's gotta be someone." He took a long drag from his cigarette, turning his head to avoid blowing smoke in his visibly agitated guest.

If I knew who it was, I wouldn't need you. His penstrokes were gradually becoming more forceful and aggressive, almost as if he were stabbing the paper.

"And that's where you're wrong Jeb."

"Grr..." The first sound Jeb made in Nicolas' presence. Taken aback by this, Nicolas jumped back and pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, putting it in the ashtray.

"So, ya finally made a sound!"

Yes, what a miracle. Now, can we get back on subject?

"Right, right." His eyes shifted back and forth around the large, mostly empty room before returning to his open briefcase. His hands moved from the rim of the table and pulled a manila folder from inside the briefcase and put it on the table between the two. He nodded to Jeb, who in turn opened it up, revealing a mugshot picture of a vaguely familiar man: brown hair, dark eyes, slight five o clock shadow. A face ravaged and matured beyond its real age.

The name: Carmine Amatuna.

"This guy's your ticket back into the game, your ticket to getting back at whoever it was that did this to ya."

I'm in. Without thinking, that was what he wrote. Nicolas got out of his seat, took and closed the folder, placed it back in the briefcase and slammed it shut. Sticking his hand out, Jeb and him shook before he turned around and started to make his way out of the building.

"I'll make a phone call."

Yeah you will, thought Jeb, clutching the pen tightly in his hand.

Yeah, you will.