Chapter 1 – The Cost of Good

"We thank you for giving the time to apply for the position as Managing Editor for our company but although your resume and portfolio are impressive and you pass our interviews with flying colors, we have found a candidate much more suited to the position. Please do not be discouraged as we will be keeping your profile in the case of another suitable job opening. Best regards, HR Director of Publick Publications Michaela Anderson."

This was the twelfth similar message he received since he lost his job five months ago. He put his hands on his face in frustration as he lost hope once more.

"Another refill, sir?" said the friendly waitress in front of him, carrying what seemed like a freshly brewed cup of coffee.

He put his hands down and did his best to smile. "Yes, Angela. Thank you."

As warm coffee poured into his cup, he glanced around the café to notice that he was the only customer at the moment. "Please call me if you need anything else," she said then walked towards the counter.

Beautiful. That was the word to best describe Angela. The star waitress of the Café Johannsson, a coffee bar and shop situated between the numerous workplaces of the business district and several ivy-league schools. It had been his favorite hangout spot since his college days. The main reason being, was that he once had a crush on the waitress that had just served him. Same as a thousand other boys making it a pipe dream for everyone. Anyone that made a move on her was always harassed by the others and if the unfortunate guy made it through, he still had to win the indomitable goddess' favor. The Goddess of Coffee, as she is called by her fan club for her remarkable skill as a coffee barista and unmatched beauty. Youth is certainly filled with stupidity.

But all of that was far from his concerns. Having graduated with top marks and strong contributions as the staff of his college paper and gaining five years of experience as a writer then editor in a respectable publication was all for naught. Five months ago, he lost it all. His reputation, his career, and his so-called friends. All because of one piece of paper he wasn't supposed to see.

He sipped the last of his coffee before packing up his laptop and walked out of the café. He walked to the café's smoking area when he heard the door lock from the inside and the closed sign was put up. He had definitely overstayed.

Lighting a cig, he stared towards the night sky as he inhaled a hefty amount of smoke. Everything was in shambles. Freelance work wasn't cutting it and he hasn't been able to find any good company that would accept him. Politics was a real thorn in the ass. You'd think the press was truly all about revealing the truth and nothing but the truth. But no. In any industry, there's always a festering spot you should avoid. If you don't have the power and backing, you'll be chewed up and spit out into a gnarly mess. That was his current situation. If only he had the power, he could've easily revealed the truth. That was his regret and wish.

As he was ruminating in his thoughts, Angela came out from a side alley in her casual clothes. She nodded to him in acknowledgement and said "Good night and take care on your way home, Mr. Writer."

"You especially, Goddess." He remarked back.

"Thank you for your concern. See you on your next visit then," she said as she turned and walked towards the other way. Even when walking, she exuded an air of grace that would make any man swoon, he thought.

He finished up his smoke when he heard a sudden yelp towards the direction Angela went and cautiously ran towards the noise.

"Stop squirming, you damned whore."

He peeked around the corner of an alley to find three men holding Angela down. One of them had clearly let their body become a sad lump of fat.

"After all the effort I did, you f*cking dare reject me?!" said the guy holding her legs. "Don't you worry, a quickie's the only thing I want."

Angela was obviously pissed and wanted to scream but her mouth was covered with a cloth. "Hey, hurry up. I want a taste of her as well," said one of the men holding her.

"Don't worry about that. We'll mess her up as much as we can." The man then started removing her pants but found it difficult due to her resistance.

He quickly slipped around the corner and charged towards the assailants; starting with a flying kick to the face of the fat man – immediately knocking him down, and followed by a fast straight to the face to the nearest goon – which knocked his head on the wall and caused him to fall unconscious. The last one immediately let go of Angela, stepped back, and drew out a gun.

"Stay back! Don't come near me!" he shouted.

However, his attempt was futile as his gun arm was parried upwards causing him to misfire and a punch to the gut took him out.

All of it happened in just less than 10 seconds.

"Angela, are you okay?" he asked as he helped her get up.

"I'm fine. Thank you."

"Let's go out into the street and call the police," he suggested. They walked out of the dark alley into the lit pavement. But as he started to take out his phone, a shout resonated from the dark alley.

"YOU F*CKING DARE GET IN MY WAY?!"

The man, clearly intoxicated and most likely under the influence of alcohol, drugs, or both charged at him like a wild bull would. Angela was pushed to the side and the charge was unexpectedly strong – pushing the rescuer onto the street. But what came next was the headlights of an incoming truck and the instant realization of impending death. In this world, trying to do good must be the crap choice. That was his last thought as the headlights blinded him and he heard someone whisper to his ear,

"I'm really sorry for this."