It was just any other day for Morgan, A dead end job with mundane errands, catching petty thieves, and licking up to the higher officials, hoping to get a promotion through flattery. Such was the job of a police man. An ugly life, yet a life that was best suited for him.
Today he was following a tip about some deal going down between 2 major syndicates of the city. A deal big enough for him to follow the suspect for the past few weeks.
He lit up a cigarette, took a long drag, looked at a photo in his hands, and back at the man siting on the exact spot that his source mentioned.
'Money well spent'
Now that the source was confirmed he could bill the state for the source fees.
His target had a small paper bag in his hand, stealthily looking around, as if to spot any pursuers. The man's eyes went past his car 2 or 3 times, yet the tinted black glasses made it impossible to spot him. A satisfied smile spread across Morgan's rough face, He was convinced that the paper bag contained his way to get a promotion. All he had to do was to wait and watch for other party to come. He took one last drag from his cigarette and tossed the it into the ash tray. A minute passed, 2 minutes passed. Yet the other party was nowhere to be seen. Morgan tapped his steering wheel repeatedly in frustration. Along with him the suspect was also beginning to show the signs of impatience.
He pulled out another stick, popped it into his mouth and the waiting was little bearable.
Half way through his cigarette, A man in hoddie approached his suspect with a backpack in his hand and sat opposite to him.
Both exchanged few words and exchanged the bags.
Not wasting a single moment, Morgan dashed out of his car and rushed towards the suspect. Thankfully the suspect back was facing towards him and he didn't notice Morgan until he was 4 feets away.
The man in the hoddie seemed to have realized Morgan's identity and instantly ran the other way, leaving behind the stunned man, who hastily sat up from the table and tried to run.
"No you don't," Morgan shouted as he slammed from the back of the suspect, sending both of them knocking down on the ground. The backpack fell wide open spilling white powder on the floor.
'Bingo'
"Wha….what?" The man eyes locked with Morgan, "Wa…wait,"
"Don't think so mate, you are under arrest for whatever the fuck is it in the bag,"
"What?" The man struggled to talk under Morgan's weight, " YOU FUCKING MORON, I am ….."
Before he could complete the sentence Morgan punched the man in the face.
"An arse," Morgan said, his hands busy cuffing the man.
After subduing the man successfully he picked up the bag and looked inside. A whistle escaped his mouth, as he found white powder equivalent to 4 years of his salary.
"Jackpot," He said happily, already dreaming about his promotion paycheck. He grinned and picked up the bloody nosed criminal.
"I will have you fired, you here me,"
"Sure," Morgan said nonchalantly, As he dragged the man towards his car.
He tapped down the man, found his wallet, a few dollar bills and a bag of marijuana.
'Double Jackpot,'
"Now why don't you open my wallet as well," the man said, a little resignation in his voice.
'Jack Keller'
He found a small ID card in wallet's hidden section.
Beside his name there was a a symbol with 3 letter written on it.
"Congratulation, you just blew an important asset,"
Morgan didn't hear the rest of the man's smug remark, In an instant his promotion dream shattered along with his failing cop carrier, and only two word escaped his mouth.
"Merlin's balls,"
.........................
Outside the Police Department of Baltimore, Morgan stood rigidly against the wall, dragging one cigarette after another while a shitstorm brewed inside. Curses flying, Blames passed around and departments threatening each other with high command
As for Morgan, First his boss grilled him. Then the police chief threatened him and finally, the big guns arrived. It was then he found out that the myth known as the blacklist was real and he was now on it.
"I need a drink," He muttered tiredly.
"Tell me about it," An old voice grumbled beside him. A man in his late 50s, who has been Morgan's silent smoking partner most of the days in the department.
"Bad day?," he glanced at the older man.
"Just got served an early retirement, after a regular body checkup," the man said in annoyance, A Winston Red in his mouth.
"Cancer?"
"No, some Eyes problem," He took a long drag, " These lungs are far too strong to be taken out by cancer,"
"….."
"What about you?" The old man glanced at him with his piercing black eyes.
"Burnt a A grad DEA asset. Now I am on blacklist,"
"Tough,"
"….."
"..."
Both stood there in brief, comfortable silence. Both of them adamant on finishing their pack of cigarettes. They had spent far too much time in each other's quiet company to feel even a hint of awkwardness with the silence.
"Thinking about going private?," The old man asked, a reality Morgan wasn't ready to face.
"Don't know," He gave another sigh.
After the last drag Morgan tossed his cigarette on the ground, squashed it with his boots, "You know what, screw this job. I need a good bottle of JD. Wanna come along?"
"Can't, Papers to file in," The old man said, finishing his last stick and went inside.
Morgan looked at the old man's back and then glanced at the police station building in silence.
'Maybe it was time to find another job,' Giving a depressed sigh he walked towards the nearest pub to the station, his regular spot.
The pub was nearly empty at the time of the day, with only a few patroons sitting here and there. A gramophone running a classical music in background and a lean middle aged bartender standing behind the table watching a muted baseball game.
Morgan ordered a bottle of JD and found himself a cosey place at the corner where he could watch the game and drown his sorrows.
One glass after another went down his throat and his past began to resurface, he began to contemplate his life choices, Reminiscing his old life, thinking about what he lost and every little stuff that came to his drunken mind. His police career's death was nowhere to be found in his self pity and before he knew it, the bottle was empty, He ordered another one.
Slowly slowly his mind began to loss control of itself. And all he remembered was a blurry world.
The next time he opened his eyes, the sun was glaring down at him, as if accusing him of showing it such shameful behavior, Behavior unbecoming of a man.
Car horns stabbed his ears like knife, and people walked past him like it was just another day. He looked around himself, and a few feets away slept a homeless man with a bottle of JD in his hands, a wide grin on his face. Looking at the scene, a depressing realization stuck him and he shameful picked himself up. He had hit a new low.
'Responsible adult Morgan, Real responsible adult,' He cursed as his ribs and back ached due to his new bedding. His ears still ringing, a terrible headache waited for him to come to his senses before attacking him in full force.
He dusted down his clothes and checked if anything missing, thankfully his wallet and gun were still there with only a few dollar bills missing from his wallet. With a sigh of relief he walked towards the nearest bus stop.
The Bus dropped him in a middle income neighborhood with hundreds of houses draped in the same mundane white color, with same small white fence and same size drive way, A perfect example of a urban dystopian world that the world was heading towards. The only thing that differentiated his house with the others was a 9 number on his letter box. Not like it bothered Morgan, All he wanted was to live his normal miserable life in this mundane dystopian town.
The door made a sharp noise as Morgan entered. The house was empty with no one but his past ghost that kept him company. He walked straight to the kitchen, found himself a beer from the refrigerator and with cloths still dirty sat down on his couch. Eyes closed, head still aching despite his beer remedy.
"Yesterday you killed your career, spent a night on streets and yet here you are happily drinking beer. Living the American dream aye?" A rough voice said in disappointment.
Morgan eyes opened instantly, his head snapped towards the the voice. His hands already pointing his gun towards the intruders head.
Despite the barrel pointed at The intruder, The intruder didn't even flinch, nor did he tried to distance himself from the gun point.
"No need to be alarmed boy, If I wanted you dead you would not have lived to see today's sun," The intruder was a disfigured man with a face capable of scaring a fully grown man with just a stare.
"Alastor?," forcing down his instincts to pull the trigger he lowered his gun, "What in the merlin's ball sack are you doing here,"
His magical linguistic automatically pouring out his mouth.
"Still have silver tongue of yours I see," Alastor said as he helped himself with a beer from his refrigerator with a flick of his wand. He took one sip, made a face that wasn't possible on that disfigured face and placed the bottle away, not planning to drink it any further.
"How in Merlin's name do you drink such piss," he grumbled under his breath.
"I ask again Alastor, What are you doing here," Morgan's tired voice suddenly sharp. It has been nearly a decade since he had last seen his old friend, And the parodied man in front wasn't the type to drop by his friend just to say hello and his next word confirmed it.
"Official business I am afraid," Alastor pulled out a letter from his pocket, It had an official seal from the British Ministry on it. "The ministry has summoned you for a hearing,"
"That world's matter have nothing to do with me now Alastor, you know that" he ignored letter and took another long gulp from his own bottle "Find another witness,"
"That's the thing I am afraid, the charges are against you,"
Morgan froze mid-sip and turned his eyes towards his friend.
"There has been a petition from few of the families I am afraid. Against 13 Aurors for unfair arrest, assault, murder, mayhem and torture," There was disgust in his voice "Malfoy is spearheading the petition,"
Just hearing the bastards name made Morgan's blood boil even after so many years. He suppressed his anger and tried reason.
"I have left the magical world a decade ago, and the Ministry have no jurisdiction in America nor can they arrest me after 5 years dead trial period,"
"The political faction have pulled serious political muscle to bring this petition in Wizangamots. The Ministry has already gotten permission to send the Aurors here in United States, A team is on it's way to search for you as we speak,"
After hearing that, Morgan didn't waste a second. He suddenly got up from his seat and walked towards a lone table in his living room. Opened the 3rd drawer and pulled out a dusty Machete, along with a small knife. A small wad of cash and a few paperwork. He checked his bullets, Even though he knew it was but a toy in front of wizards.
"What are you doing," Alastor said, still seated.
"Preparing, do you have a spare wand" Morgan said while trying riffling through another drawer. He cursed himself, for throwing away his wand in gutter years ago. He didn't know he would need it again.
"Stop," Alastor seemed to have seen enough, "You are overreacting to the situation. Even though the petition has a massive political pull, they still can't convict you, the Head of the Law Enforcment Department wouldn't stand for such buggery thing,"
"Ya right," Morgan snarled, He didn't stop his preparation. He had seen far too many innocent muggleborn get kissed to trust his life in hands of the Ministry "Do you have a spare wand or not, Alastor,"
"There is a reason I came here personally you cynical bastard. I knew you would react this way. Just read the damn letter. The Wizarding world have changed quite a bit in this past decade,"
"Yaa right,"
"And Besides, I have convinced Burkes to represent you in Wizengamots," Limping Alastor walked towards him.
Morgan looked at Alastor for a few brief moments thinking about his options, and even though he didn't like it, going with Alastor's suggestion was the only proper solution that came to mind, aside from full blown conflict with the Aurors.
"How much is Burkes asking for?,"
"Why don't you ask him yourself," Alastor snorted.
" when is the hearing,"
"4 days from now," His friend pulled out a pen, " I have portkey,"…
Looking at the pen, he signed. Both men knew Morgan was going with him to meet Burkes.