An Easy Favor

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An Easy Favor

Post by WolfofWords »

A loud alarm sounded as the cell doors slid closed in Cell Block 4. Of course, the bars were holographic as a forcefield actually responsible for keeping prisoners in. Hawthorne took a deep breath, feeling grateful to have made it through another day. His last full day. He was fully expecting to start something. You didn't make it through four years at New Lincoln Penitentiary without expecting a ruckus usually right when you did not want one. Thankfully, things had been relatively peaceful and he had been allowed to just work out for a large part of the day. He had been taken off of work detail rotation due to his imminent departure so they had not known what to do with him. That suited him just fine.

"So, tomorrow's the day, huh?" Art asked with a lopsided grin. The lopsided grin was mostly because his face had been rearranged too many times before Hawthorne started protecting him. Art was a lifer and, at his age, that term could probably be used literally. "Gonna miss you big bear." There was humor in his face that did not fully reach his eyes.

"If I could take you with me, I would," Hawthorne said. "You going to be alright in here?"

"Probably not," Art said, again half-joking. "but I've had a hell of a ride."

Hawthorne nodded. They had never really talked about it but he had always gathered that Art was old school mob, a rarity among the gangs and factions in New Lincoln. Art had a punchable face but Hawthorne swore there were actual reasons for attacks on him. There was something shadowy out there that wanted Art Bayley dead. Hawthorne suddenly wanted to say something but nothing seemed sufficient. No words would be enough.

"Oh, don't you go worrying about me, kid," Art said. "I'll be alright. I just wanted to ask you for a favor if I could. I wouldn't ask if it weren't important." This was true. When Hawthorne had first saved Art from a beating, Art had simply told him to let him die. Hawthorne was not exactly about to do that and Art had eventually warmed to the assistance.

"Go ahead, old-timer," Hawthorne said. "I won't make any promises but you've earned at least a favor."

"Smartass," Art said with a grin that almost had half the teeth it was supposed to have. "It shouldn't be that hard. You just have to make a little visit for me."

"A visit?" Hawthorne asked. "Where would I be visiting?" He was now a little doubtful but it was not a no go yet.

"The where would be Baltimore," Art said. "That's easy, right? That's where you're from, right? But more important is the who. I want you to check in on my daughter, Carter."

"Is she in trouble?" Hawthorne asked. He was a little suspicious at that point. His probation definitely limited contact with any criminal element and he had never picked sides before. He was proud that he had never joined a gang and he had kept his circle tight. He was not about to throw in with the mob but if this was genuinely a family thing and not a Family thing then it would probably be alright.

"I don't think so," Art said but he glanced away as he said it. "She's a smart girl. She's fine but I haven't seen her in forever and I just want to make sure she's alright."

"I guess that's something I could do before I settle in," Hawthorne said. "I was already heading toward Baltimore but I'm not sure I'll stick around. A lot of memories."

"Understood," Art said. "This wouldn't take but an hour at most. Just don't scare her, big guy."

This was actually a cause for concern. Hawthorne was born big and he had grown up even bigger. He was nearly seven-foot-tall and ripped. He had had body modifications due to some injuries and a lot of him was made of polymer and metal. Thankfully, his face was still intact but he definitely had to work sometimes at being non-threatening.

"I'll try my best," Hawthorne said. "How does she know I actually came from you?"

"Hound," Art said. "Tell her I said 'Hound'."
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Re: An Easy Favor

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When Hawthorne woke up the next morning, Art was already up and getting ready for breakfast. He pressed a scrap of paper into Hawthorne's palm as they shook hands which Hawthorne tried not to react to. Hawthorne discreetly slipped the rolled-up paper into a compartment in his cybernetic arms, one that was small enough that it looked like an anomaly on X-Ray, and therefore it had never been searched. Hawthorne's sister, Mars, had built all sorts of tricks into his cybernetics, most of which had been shut off after his arrest.

"Give her my best," Art said with a grim smile on his face. Art really did not show a lot of emotion, so this was a lot for him and Hawthorne regretted leaving him behind again. He would definitely do this one thing for Art. They were not exactly friends but they had somehow almost become family. Art had been there after the death of Hawthorne's sister when nobody else gave a damn. "Don't forget to watch your ass and don't you come back here, right?"

"Don't worry," Hawthorne said with a smile. "I'll be good."

"You don't have to be good," Art said. "just don't get caught." He let out a single barking syllable of a laugh and headed off to breakfast. Neither of them had said goodbye. He hoped Art would keep himself out of trouble but he had a feeling that trouble would not leave the old guy alone.

Hawthorne was led off to eat his breakfast in private to prevent any problems before his release. One more meal of nutritional paste, designed to be healthy, taste decent, and keep the prisoners regular. He was definitely looking forward to a real meal once he got into the city. After breakfast, it was time for the usual multitude of scans and medical examinations that came from living in prison. The final stop was the property window where he was handed back his watch, a pocket knife, and clothes he had not seen since his arrest. He had been loaned a suit by the penal system for his sister's funeral, one of the few good things the system did for him. He also received a datapad with which to check in with his parole officer. After he got dressed, it was finally time to make that walk through the gates and into the back of a waiting taxi.

He finally relaxed as the taxi pulled away from the prison gates. In that moment he realized that he had not really relaxed the whole time he was in prison and it had taken its toll. He leaned against the window a bit and looked out at the scenery as it went by as if he had never seen any of it before. His eyes drank it all in. Of course, he realized that his criminal career had not been exactly restful but it had been side by side with his sister as his partner in crime. Both of them had been addicted to the rush but they had also been proud of something they had built together. He never saw himself as the bad guy but maybe it was time to really go straight. He did not know if he had the heart to start pulling jobs without his sister's razor-sharp intellect anyway.

The taxi headed south down Route 83 on its second level and past both beltways and into Baltimore City proper. He found himself smiling as he saw all the familiar sights of his hometown. He rolled down the window so he could smell it. It was fantastic. The cabbie gave him a curious look but he did not care. He was free. His heart truly sang at that thought. There were days and even weeks in prison where he wondered if he would ever be free and here he was smelling exhaust, taco trucks, and the faint smell of the sea through a cracked cab window. Very few things could have made him happier at that moment.
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Re: An Easy Favor

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The taxi arrived in Old Remington in front of a rundown halfway house. Hawthorne and his sister's apartment had long been reclaimed and their possessions had probably been disposed of. The prison system had provided a few changes of clothes and a pair of boots and that was it. He grabbed the duffle bag and thanked the cabbie. The cab was prepaid by the State but he wished he had some money to tip the guy. Not having the money to give that tip wounded him. He had been a criminal but he still had respect for the workers out there. He and Mars had only hit wealthy targets by design.

Hawthorne started toward the front door. He still had to get his room assignment and check-in with his parole officer before he could even think of carrying out Art's wishes. He reached and checked to make sure Art's note was still tucked in the joint of his shoulder. He stepped into the doorway of the apartment building and the security scanners whirred to life. One of the sensors gave off some sparks as it moved. He could see some rust and exposed wires in places. In older days he would have looked at these signs as something he could exploit but now he just hoped it would not spray sparks on him anymore.

He walked into the lobby which looked alright but there were definitely signs of wear and tear. He shook his head and turned to head toward the front desk. He had to stop acting like he was casing the joint. Besides, it was a halfway house so there was probably nothing to steal anyway. He set his bag down near the front desk gently and tried his least intimidating smile. He knew that he was big and imposing and he knew he sometimes had to compensate for that. He did not want a bad reputation on day one. He had been on his best behavior in prison in an attempt to get the best chance to go straight. He had to continue that effort.

"Good afternoon," he said. "My name is Hawthorne Cassidy and I'm here to report for my room assignment."

The young woman looked up from her book and looked Hawthorne up and down. She seemed thoroughly unimpressed. She grabbed up a datapad and scrolled through it slowly. She looked at the datapad and then at Hawthorne and back at the datapad's screen.

"Hold out your data tag," the woman said, looking up to suddenly stare into his eyes.

Hawthorne found himself actually flinching. This lady was one tough customer but he tried to keep smiling. His arm clunked against the counter as he held out the device bound to his wrist. He tried to be gentle but his cybernetic arms weighed far too much to be too gentle. She rolled her eyes and waved a scanner over the data tag.

"Hawthorne Cassidy," the woman said in a monotone. "Formerly of the Cassidy Twins. Held for robbing banks, antiquities, and private collections. Several pages here about the destruction done to law enforcement property."

"All that is over," Hawthorne said. "I've served my time. All of my enhancements have been powered down to human levels. I just want to walk the straight and narrow now." He smiled again, trying to project innocence.

"We'll see," the woman said and yawned. "Unit 405. Keep it clean and behave. Your data tag and only your data tag will open the door to your unit."

"Will do," Hawthorne said. "Can I ask your name?" He genuinely was not trying to get intimate. He just wanted to make a human connection.

The woman swiped a strand of her platinum blonde hair from her face. "I'm not giving a criminal my real name. It's also against company policy. You can call me Erinyes," she said.

"Kind of a weird name," Hawthorne said.

"Read your Greek mythology," Erinyes said. "and get away from my desk."

"Sure," Hawthorne said. He grabbed his bag and started to step away. "You know my sister taught me quite a bit about electronics," he said. "I could take a look at the scanner at the door. It looks a little bit busted."

"There's no chance we would let a known ex-con even touch that thing," Erinyes said. "If I see you touching it, I'll report you. Now go away."

"You got it," Hawthorne said and headed toward the stairs to get to his room. So much for first impressions.
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Re: An Easy Favor

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Hawthorne waved his data tag near the panel on the door and he heard the deadbolts release and he pushed the door open. He set his bag down and stretched, hearing a slight creak of metal in his shoulder. He really needed maintenance but he did not really have the money for it. He would have to save up his money after he got a job. He thought about hosing himself down but almost as soon as that thought entered his head, the data tag started beeping loudly. It was so loud that he was glad that he was in private and would not annoy anybody nearby.

"Stand by!" the device chimed almost cheerily. "Incoming call from Sergeant Callum." The voice sounded like an old school phone menu voice. Hawthorne could not tell if it was recorded or synthesized voice. He idly wondered if there were voice options on the data tag. If there was a more soothing option, it would make calls a little better.

Hawthorne looked at the device on his wrist and sighed. He was kind of tired yet keyed up from his encounter downstairs and was in no mood to talk to his parole officer. However, he had no say in the matter and he had a feeling that his parole officer could reach him no matter where he was and what he was doing by design. He was resigned to make something of his second chance which meant putting up with his parole officer no matter what. The data tag whirred to life and a hologram started to form. A tall, lanky man with a gray push-broom mustache and a shaved head. Not what Hawthorne was expecting.

"Inmate report in," Sergeant Callum said. It was direct but not hostile. The man stared hard at Hawthorne, his body language giving away nothing. He was all business much like Erinyes had been downstairs. It was the kind of attitude that subconsciously made Hawthorne stand up a little straighter.

"Inmate 1159261181514 reporting in," Hawthorne said. It was something he had said hundreds of times over the course of serving his time. The numbers would be burned into his brain forever even though he was usually referred to as the truncated '1514'. Few people had used his name but he had repeated it in his head to keep a hold of it and hope that he would use it again.

"By reporting to your quarters, you are officially released," the Sergeant said with a slight smile. "You've earned your name back, Hawthorne Cassidy."

"Thank you, sir," Hawthorne said. "I appreciate it." He felt a weight lift off of him that he had barely realized was there. He was free. There were plenty more hoops to jump through but he was free and out in the world. He would be whole again.

"I hope you do, Cassidy," the Sergeant said. "Don't make the Department of Corrections regret releasing you. That's my one and only rule. I succeed at my job when you succeed at your rehabilitation."

"I get it," Hawthorne said. "I mean that I understand. I want to go straight, I have no desire to commit any more crimes. I just want to live my life."

"I hope that's a genuine statement," the Sergeant said. "For now, I'll believe it is. I'll be doing regular check-ins with you and I will be in communication with the house staff and your boss."

"Yeah I have to get myself one of those first," Hawthorne said. "I'll start looking for work first thing in the morning." He was not looking forward to the job hunt process. Part of what had made crime so attractive was not having to go through that process.

"No need," the Sergeant said. "I have a job lined up for you already. A local auto parts shop put in a request for somebody with muscle and I volunteered you. The guy gets back into town day after tomorrow so you can use tomorrow to do a little food shopping and settle in. I'll send the address to your data tag. You're also due a few credits to start you off with some food. There's a sub place a few doors down from where you are."

Hawthorne was taken aback. "Thank you, sir, I frankly was not expecting this," he said. "I was expecting to deal with a hardass."

"Oh, I can be hard if I have to," the Sergeant said. "Don't make me stop being nice, neither of us will enjoy it. I gave up being mean when I left the service. Help me help you."

"You've got it," Hawthorne said. "A Cassidy is true to their word. I'll do my best by you."
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Re: An Easy Favor

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Hawthorne tore into the meatball sub as he sat on the bed in his room. It was the first non-prison food he had had since his sister's funeral and he nearly wept at the taste of it. He had to stop himself from wolfing the whole thing down right away. He took his time, meticulously eating and tasting the meal and trying to remain present in the moment. He had also bought an iced tea and a coffee. He had had coffee in prison but it was pretty close to mud. This was sub shop coffee but it was about twenty times better than the stuff in prison. He had not had iced tea since before the trial.

He had the blinds open on his window so he sat and stared out as the sun went down in Baltimore City. People were coming home from work or going out but Hawthorne felt so disconnected from it all. He was out of prison but he had not really reentered society. He was forbidden from contacting most of his friends and he did not really have much family anymore. The few he knew of would not want to talk to him. He was looking forward to meeting people and possibly making some new human connections but he knew that it would be rough going as well. He was an ex-convict and most people would not respond well to that.

He hoped that his new boss would be agreeable. He knew that he could be a good hand around a parts shop but he would be hard-pressed to make a good impression. If things went poorly, work would not be a happy place to spend time. Hawthorne had no choice but to try to be optimistic that he could win his boss and coworkers over. He wanted to have a good life but he knew that a lot of people would want him to be miserable. The stigma of prison would never go away as long as he lived. It was not like society was going to change anytime soon and he could not hide his past.

It started to rain outside and he stood up to watch everybody scurry around. A few well-prepared people deployed umbrellas. It paid to be prepared. It started to pour and even the umbrella users started to hurry and soon only cars were on the street. The sound of the rain was peaceful and Hawthorne took several deep breaths as he let the sound fill his being. He had been the muscle between him and his sister but he had always been the more contemplative. Mars had never wanted to stop and think. It gave her anxiety to stand still. Things would be a lot more peaceful without her.

He watched as a single person in a long raincoat walked down the street as if the rain did not bother them. They were tall and thin and walked with ease. That person stopped in front of the halfway house and looked up and. for a moment, Hawthorne could have sworn that she could see him. The girl had an eyepatch over her right eye and her left eye had a fierce wildness to it. It took Hawthorne a few moments to remember that the window was built with thick one-way glass. Still, her look had unnerved him and he hit the button to close the metal shutters. He could still hear the rain.

He walked back to his bed and sat down to finish his sandwich. In the morning, he would use the free day to track down Art's daughter. He would give her the message and then he would move on unless she wanted to talk about her dad a bit. He did not have a lot to offer but he could talk about how Art was inside and how he was as a cellmate. After that, he would grab some groceries so he could cook a bit over the coming week. In the meantime, he was starting to get very tired. He would go to sleep soon and hope that he had no bad dreams.
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Re: An Easy Favor

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The next day, Hawthorne set out on his last day between prison and his new job. He had to search out Art's daughter that day because he did not know when his next day off would be. He also owed it to the old man to keep his word about passing on the message. It would probably be awkward but if he just got through it and stayed polite, he could get out of her hair with minimal fuss. He knew that he came off physically imposing. His height was already towering but when you added on the metal arms and back, he could easily be mistaken for a monster. Thankfully, he had covered his face throughout his criminal life which had kept his face unscathed.

A cart on the corner was selling delicious breakfast sandwiches with a handful of hash browns in a sack. Hawthorne was in heaven as he sat on a bench for a little bit and dug into the food. His mother had always chided him for eating standing up and eating while walking was absolute insanity. Besides, sitting allowed him to focus on how good the food tasted. It was greasy and salty and probably horrible for him but in that moment he pushed such thoughts from his mind. He just focused on each perfect bite and even found himself closing his eyes.

When he opened his eyes, he saw a young woman on the other end of the bench staring at him. He blinked for a moment and then turned away before he was caught staring. Then he realized that the woman was the same one he had seen entering the halfway house the night before in the rain. She looked a bit different now that she was dry but there was no mistaking her eyes. He thought for a moment that she was following him but there was no way that she had seen him through the one-way window the night before. She was probably just waiting for a bus. He got to his feet as nonchalantly as possible. He tossed his breakfast trash and went on his way again.

He was finding it hard to shake off the paranoia that had kept him safe in prison. A little paranoia was healthy but too much would give him a heart attack eventually. He reminded himself that this was his first full day out of prison. Adapting back to the real world would take time. He knew that getting into a routine and breathing the outside air a bit more would help clear his head and his heart. These things took time and he wondered if the Department of Corrections would pay for a therapy session or two. It seemed unlikely. His parole officer would have probably mentioned it if that was the case. He seemed to actually give at least a little bit of a damn unlike Erinyes and other Corrections employees he had met.

The place where Art's daughter was supposed to be working was actually not far and it was a nice day for a walk. He was also just a little bit rattled to wait for the bus. He had plenty of time so he started to make his way through the streets of Baltimore. Things had changed since he had been inside. He had gotten a bit of a look while riding on the Jones Falls Expressway but you always got a better look when you were on foot. Hawthorne loved Baltimore and he had missed it a lot. He had tried to separate the city from his mind while he was inside. Some guys had talked about their home base all the time, trying to hold onto that for hope. Hawthorne had done the opposite, he had made the prison his home. Now he had to find a new home. He thought he would pass through Baltimore to find that home but now he could not imagine leaving the city again.

He wondered what he would do for lunch. He was walking over to Mount Vernon so there should be several good restaurants in the area. He wondered how many of them might refuse him entry. He was looking a bit scruffy and could probably use a haircut and a beard trim. If he was looking for jobs he probably would have shaved the beard off. He shook his head gently. He was too much in his own head. He needed to just stay in the present for now until it made sense to think of the future. Just enjoy being out and having some of his freedom returned to him. He briefly watched a trio of seagulls fight over a bagel.

He stepped onto Charles Street and it was just as bustling as it had always been and he was a bit overwhelmed. He waited at the crosswalk to get across the street for a while and then hurried across. Even with plenty of time, he still got honked at. It was not worth it to get angry. The elevator at the office building was taking a while so he took the steps. He climbed three stories pretty easily. He was still in shape.

"Excuse me," he said to the guy at the front desk of the office. "I'm here to see Marianne Grover."

"She just stepped outside," the guy said without looking up. "If you hurry you can catch her. Unless it's business. If it's business you can take a seat."

"Thanks," Hawthorne said. "It's not business. He walked back toward the stairs and hustled down them. That explained why the elevator was in use. If he had just waited, he might have caught her. He reached the bottom and stepped outside and saw a young woman hanging up her cell phone. "Excuse me, Marianne Grover?"

The woman turned around with tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said. "Whatever you want will have to wait. My dad just died."
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