literature

John Doe

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I sit there, staring at the table in front of me, for what seems like hours. Knowing how easily I get distracted, it probably is. But, the answer had to be in here somewhere. Just one clue could do it, one mess up and I would have it all figured out.

I’m sitting in my room. It’s a bit small and square, except for the door in the corner, making it some awkward pentagon shape. I’m glad I’m not OCD. The walls are painted an obnoxious yellow, a choice made by myself years ago and one that I now regret to no end. Don’t ask an eight year old what color to paint their room. It’s unintelligent. Now, they’re covered in so much stuff that the yellow hardly makes it through. I call it my ‘Wall of Me’ and it’s filled with posters, movie tickets, pictures, postcards, playbills, and other random things that can be taped to a wall. Let’s hope I don’t ever move.

The desk I sit at is so covered in papers, pens, books, and other things that seem to make homes on desks, that I can barely see what I’m working on. I call it organized chaos; my mom calls it a mess. To each their own.

At the moment, I’m trying to figure out who this kidnapper could possibly be using the newspapers, loaded on my tablet, articles, and anything else I can get on him. Not the most normal pastime for a seventeen year old girl, but I was never one for normalcy.

I shove my red hair out of my eyes for the millionth times and pull out the ponytail that isn’t helping keep the hair out of my face anyway. I should cut it. It’s pretty long and it would get in my way a lot less if it didn’t go down my back.

No, this is not the time for this. I have to find this guy! He loves the drama. This criminal wears a full tux every kidnapping, complete with top hat, and a gold cane and already has a clever name for himself. Pseudonym. He likes to kidnap high profile targets, get the attention of the press, and then let his hostage go unharmed when he decides he should. Pseudonym hasn’t killed anyone yet, but I think it’s only a matter of time. That’s why I need to find him, now.

From every phycology thing I have ever read, a guy like this would want to be recognized for his deeds. He would be leaving huge hints somewhere. But, where?

That’s it. I just need to take a step back. Get some sleep. I can wake up in the morning and do it. Maybe I can see if Melanie and Lara, my friends that share my strange hero pastime, have any ideas.

Already wearing the black sweat pants and tank top I wear to bed, I switch off my desk light and the overhead light and climb into my bed. It sort of has a dent in the middle because that’s where I always sleep, but it’s amazingly comfortable. But sleep never comes.

After a good solid twenty minutes of tossing and turning, I give up sleeping and turn on the lamp by my bed. I need to distract myself. Picking up a book that was on my bedside table, carefully of course because it’s so piled with stuff that it’s nearly impossible to get anything off of it, I glance at the cover.

Can You Keep A Secret? by John Doe. The cover has some silhouette of a guy on a park bench somewhere.

Alicia, my sister who’s at collage, sent me this. She told me it was good. She’s an English major. Of course she sends me a good book. Fabulous.

Nothing else to do, though, so I turn to the back cover summary, holding it above my face so I can still lie down and hoping that it doesn’t’ fall on my face.

Dear Daniel,

James Gold. Haven’t heard of him? But you must have read his books? He has the series about that spy who learned about the enemy missile attack? I knew you’d have heard of it! The first few were amazing, right? I totally understand how he made his fortune off those. The Sequels were awful. I really expected better, didn’t you? I think I figured out why they were so bad. I fell in with some people, Daniel. Bad people, and they told me that he was a criminal mastermind. That the books were full of codes for criminals. That he made it look like he was innocent of all those murders, you know, the ones in the upper district, because he gave his orders through the books. They say he’s the mastermind known as Pseudonym. We need to expose him. I need help, Daniel, your help. So, tell me, can you keep a secret?

-Kevin

I sit up so fast that I nearly hit my head on the wooden head board. Pseudonym. That cannot be a coincidence. Who would take the name? An obsessed fan? Maybe. I look at the cover again, hoping to be inspired, and then catch sight of the author’s name again.

John Doe. The name hospitals use to call a person when they don’t have their identification yet, and what can that be, except a pseudonym?

I sit up so fast that my vision blurs for a second. The author is the mastermind, he has to be! I throw off my covers and get up to pace my room.




“I knew one of you would come,” the man, John Doe, says calmly as I appear in his office using my powers. It’s terribly bland for a millionaire. None of the flair one would expect from a narcissistic kidnapper/author, although, what is one even supposed to expect from someone like that? “Sit.” He gestures to a chair on the opposite side of his wooden desk.

I don’t take the seat, but ponder on how bland he looks. Dressed casual, with short brown hair and matching eyes in a face that one would pass on a sidewalk and never remember again. I can’t even tell his age. He’s older; I can tell from his confidence in the situation, but he can’t be over fifty.

No one speaks, so I break the silence.

“You knew one of us would come?” I tilt my head to the side and cross my arms, knowing that it’s hard to see my expression under the Domino mask I wear. I put a hand on my hip, close to my bow staff, but he doesn’t know that, and wait for the answer. One of who?

“You self-proclaimed heroes, my dear,” he answers while continuing to write. “It’s not exactly challenging to figure things out, although,” he pauses and looks up. “You’re alone, so I assume they don’t know you’re here? Tut, tut,” he chides and points at her conspiringly with a smile. “Bad form, dear. But, the time for small talk has passed!”

I nod as he gets up from his chair and walks around the desk to be on the same side as me and then leans against the polished wood. I am starting to think that back up may have been a good idea. Like, a really good idea. But, I can leave whenever I want. Teleportaion. Right.

His head is cocked to the side and he’s studying me with an indifferent mask. I let him break the tense silence. “So, what are you going to do now, hmm?” His voice is practically a purr and it sends a cold shiver up my spine that I fight to repress. Rule one: don’t let them see you’re scared.

I put on a confident smirk. “Expose you.” Rule two: know the plan, and, if you don’t, bullshit it. I’m not quite sure which one pertains to me at the moment.

The author laughed a harsh laugh that didn’t fit in the bland body he wore so confidently. “You will tell the population that a word famous author, who has earned that title by writing books about an author who runs a criminal enterprise, is a mastermind himself.” His indifferent expression had shifted to something horribly condescending. “Good luck, dear.”

Shit, what was rule three? I lean back on my heels, away from him and preparing to bolt. But that would mean he wins. He can’t win. That’s not how-

“You don’t even have a retort?” The condescending smile grows wider. ”Poor thing. Did you think at all before coming here? No one will even think about putting me in the suspect list for Pseudonym’s crimes. No, I won’t be the one in prison, my dear,” the look he gives me can only be described as slimy. “However, you on the other hand,” He lets the statement hang there for a bit and there is something in his face that I just can’t read. “Well, vigilanting, not to mention breaking and entering, is illegal. One phone call and our hero’s mask is stripped off, and she rots in prison till the end of her days.”

It’s as if someone hit a light switch in my head. The kidnappings, the books, everything, just suddenly makes sense! The light in his brown eyes grows brighter, as if he could tell that I understand now. That might be because a smile has broken out on my face.

“But you won’t do that.” All of a sudden my confidence is back tenfold. I can feel myself standing taller with my hands placed on either of my red clad hips.

The change in his posture is immediate. At my words, the slimy mastermind that I’ve seen this whole time turns into a smiling adult figure. He almost looks like someone’s Uncle who dotes on his nieces and nephews. It’s amazing how a simple change in expression can transform him into someone that I find myself immediately trusting without altering his appearance at all.

“And why’s that?” His smile grows wider.

“Because you planned this.”

“Did I?” He leads me on like an elementary school teacher does to their students to get them to explain everything in detail. Even knowing this, I find myself playing along as I nod in answer to his question.

“You said our hero. You want me- me and my friends- to be heroes,” I say slowly, testing the waters, and he gestures me on with his right hand. “You got our attention by being a public criminal- no a villain. A villain who everyone has heard of. Who everyone currently fears. A villain, Pseudonym, who uses the name from a book series you wrote. But, no one can possibly blame you because everyone knows you! And if I blame you then the people will all be pissed at me! So you’re showing me, if we can become that popular as heroes and gain the public’s favor, just like you have, then the government can’t do a thing without putting everyone in an uproar!”

The smile he wears now is something akin to pride. “Precisely.”
This is a character from the Rangers Universe that :icontriskata: *Triskata and I have been working on. I'm kind of hoping that if I post something that she'll post something (Hint Hint). This is also still not finished as there is some awkward line break in the middle that I need to fill with words.
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Autumnetta's avatar
I LOVE IT!
And as soon as I finish Whisper's ref I will get back to work and line and color the comic!
I'M SO CLOSE TO BEING DONE!