Q- The Watcher

Q – The Chameleon

Q loved to watch cop shows on TV as a child. His artistic abilities earned him a scholarship through college. And he is a totally gifted genius when it comes to computers, software and hacking. To top it off he has a great love of music and is a great drummer, but his real passion is detective and police work. He loves a great detective thriller. So much so, that he made it a part of his life as much as he could.

He is known as “The Watcher”. He actually helped solve quite a few crimes that happened around the city. His ability to blend into the background of any environment was uncanny. His investigative skills were quite amazing. But Q knew that this was as much as he could do to fulfill that passion within. Being mute, he could not fully realize his dream. All of his senses, skills and abilities were finely honed. But he couldn’t speak. He could never become a police officer in the big city.

As is usual for Q, he turned lemons into lemonade and decided that he would do independent police work as much as he could and assist the men and women in blue. And that he did. He turned in so many tips via video and/or photos, the press found out about the cop’s anonymous helper and dubbed him “The Watcher.”

For a while, it seemed as if the initial publicity would interfere with Q’s undercover activity, but Q being himself, he adjusted. A real life chameleon. That’s how he could see things going on without being seen. His ability to blend.

As he lay on the ground underneath newspapers, with grubby clothes that smelled of the cheap liquor he poured on himself, he was anticipating whatever was about to go down.

The previous night he saw guys getting out of nice cars and going into an abandoned building, shoving people around. He wasn’t close enough then for too much detail or to really see what was going on. The crew was operating out of a run-down supposedly abandoned building on this very shady side of town. In this area, there were quite a few homeless sleeping on the streets. A fact that made Q rather sad and put ideas into his head about the revitalization of this forgotten part of town. In his investigative position, Q looked more like a pile of trash than a human being, and that is exactly what he wanted. Though when a passerby stopped to urinate, he pretty much unknowingly rained upon Q, which did help his cover, but didn’t make Q too happy. Though wearing rain poncho, jut the sound and knowledge of what was happening grossed him out.

Q lay on the side of the building facing the entrance that the guys used previously. He wanted to get video and hoped they would be back tonight. He did not dare to go snooping in or around the building. He would leave that to the police – though they had no clue about what was going on here. Sometimes people didn’t come back out when they went snooping around the wrong buildings. So he watched and waited.

A large, expensive black luxury SUV pulled up. Two of the men got out with bags of groceries. Two more dudes got out shoving two young whimpering girls with black hoods over their heads and a scarf tied around their mouths. Their hands were tied in the front. The men were moving fast and looking around. Q stayed motionless.

He was already positioned with his camera when they pulled up. Q’s assumptions were correct – they would be back after dark and use this entrance. He recorded the fast drop-off. He recorded everything - the girls, the guys and the vehicle license plate. They took the girls in and quickly came back out. He could hear the metal door close hard and the loud clunking sound of the heavy metal door lock upon their exit. The dark SUV left as silently as it arrived. It all took less than 60 seconds.

Q immediately sent the video to the detective’s phone. He sent a text message, “5551 Orchestra Blvd. This is happening right now.” Q made his exit from the area just as stealthily as he had come in. He crawled, rolled and staggered away, resembling the many homeless in the area. He was smart. If there were any cameras on any of the buildings, they would not be able to identify anything about him – his facial features, his frame, nor his height.

The detective didn’t know why he was the one chosen by The Watcher. He didn’t know how The Watcher got his cell phone number. The videos and photos were all untraceable. The Watcher would hack into any available wireless signal to quickly send the video. The unregistered, untraceable burner cell phone would never be used again. Though a mystery as to why he was chosen, the detective gladly accepted the tips and closed every case. Q knew why he selected this particular detective. He would never forget what he did all those years ago.

Q and his mom were celebrating Q’s eighth grade graduation. The little diner near the private high school for gifted and talented students was a little pricey, but Q’s mom made it happen. She was proud of her son and they were both excited that he received a full scholarship to the private school. It was the best day that Q remembered.

They went home and his mom got ready for her night job at the hospital. For many years, she worked two jobs, but then she obtained her certification as a patient care tech. She now made enough money to give up the other job. Once Q turned 13, he started working at a small computer store after school and on Saturdays repairing computers, stocking supplies, cleaning, like a little jack of all trades. Q insisted that he give his entire small check to his mom. She was so good to him, he wanted to do everything he could to help out. She insisted that he first take out money for his video games and art supplies, and then if he wanted to give her the rest, he could.

On this particular night, the worst predator of the city was on the loose. On this night, he was in Q’s neighborhood. Q’s mom considered taking a cab. But it was a beautiful night. The moon was large and full, and there was a nice steady breeze in the air. She decided to take the metrobus to work – the one bus dropped her off at the corner of the hospital grounds. As Q’s mom smiled and walked briskly and happily to the metrobus stop, she was filled with joy and was oblivious to her surroundings. She didn’t have her mace in her hand like she normally does. She wasn’t being as guarded as usual. She lifted her head, smiled to the heavens, thanking God for his blessings and for her son.

The predator had lingered in this neighborhood before. He had not yet struck here, but had already ruined multiple lives in other areas of the big city. He had seen Q’s mom. She was different today. She seemed softer. He walked behind her in step. Her purse was slung across her body as usual, but her hands were free as she swung her arms and smiled gleefully. Her path crossed the dark alley where his car was parked, and usually she crossed the street but this time she didn’t. She kept straight across the alleyway.

Back at the apartment, Q saw his mom's work ID laying on the counter. She had forgotten it and Q knew she needed it. He grabbed it and raced down the stairs, out of the building and down the street – his mom took the same metrobus to work every night. He saw the predator, a dark figure cross the street, moving in on his mom and grab her as she crossed the alley. He left his whistle in the house. He ran towards them as if there was fire under his feet. The car sped out of the alley. He fell to his knees and cried a silent angry cry with tears streaming down his face. A neighbor saw Q running out and collapse, crying on the ground. Once he reached Q, the neighbor called 911. He walked Q away from the scene, back to his apartment.

The detective assigned to the case was determined to catch the predator. Once he learned that Q had seen the predator, he wanted desperately to get him to look at photos and assign their sketch artist. But Q refused to go. He grabbed his pad and sketch pencils, and began to draw furiously. He sketched a detailed picture of the predator – his facial structure, exactly what he was wearing, his hair color, the type of gym shoes he was wearing. He sketched the car, with details of the hood ornament, the color and the license plate.

Q handed the sketches to the detective and wrote on another sheet of paper, “FIND HER!” Q cried. His mom was his world.

The detective did exactly what Q asked. They found the predator and, using unauthorized excessive force that was never reported to his superiors, the detective got a confession and instructions to find the body of Q’s mom.

She had a brutal death. Q’s world was forever changed.

Once Q was a few blocks away from the abandoned building, he discarded his newspaper disguise and started walking towards the subway entrance. He noticed a black pickup truck idling on the corner. He kept walking as if he didn’t notice. He should have guessed that they would be monitoring the area. The headlights of the vehicle came on. The vehicle slowly moved towards Q. He saw a gun sticking out of the window. They saw him as he ducked in an alley. He slowly moved out of the alley and back onto the sidewalk, hidden by the shadow of the building. The vehicle stopped and two guys with guns got out, peering down the alley and street. He burned the images of their faces into his mind. They couldn’t see him. He was dressed in all black, black gloves, and his face was covered with black face paint. He was a silent shadow in the darkness. They looked down the alley again, waiting to hear or see movement. Q was no longer in the alley, but standing flatly motionless against the wall a few feet from them. They figured he left and wasn’t looking fot trouble. Returning to their vehicle, Q heard one of them say, “Probably just some homeless loser. I could smell piss and wine in the air.”

They pulled off down the street to circle the block, and Q came out of the shadows. He smirked and thought, “They just don’t know.”