In a time when biogenetic evildoers roamed the empty subways, my partner is there. His name is Trent, Trent Logan to be precise. I wear a Stetson, he wears a fedora, don’t ask why.
    9:43 a.m. It was a foggy morning for the New York Express, as the heavy clouds flew apart by the shouts and squeals of rusty engines and taxis. New York is a loud city.              
     Today was the most detestable of all days, when all was not well in the underground (or so it had seemed). The streets were gray and pale. The wet, musty air dispersed through the alley as a street cat fished through the waste as the flies buzzed the surface of the manhole. Then the sun appeared on the horizon and the sewer rats shrieked at the light as the cat, who by chance perceived a glimpse of the rats, sprawled over eagerly. Birds broke out in a symphony of sound, and the bright, unimaginable light brushed up on the high building that shot up past the clouds. The street came alive with the sounds of cars and buses, with the strong aroma of freshly grilling pretzels and hotdogs served every imaginable way.
     Our street corner was almost silent. We sat in the office while eating our lunches. It was clear that we hadn’t received a case in ages. We were so delved into the doldrums that even our dialogue grew thick.
     “All I’m saying is that if the humidity has a seventy-five percent rate; shouldn’t my schnauzer’s fur be at least a little frizzy?” Trent muttered with a tired breath
     “Your dog doesn’t have any fur anymore; don’t you remember that it was shaved last week?” I laughed at the thought. This conversation became maddening quickly. Finally a sound broke the silence. Rinnng! The office phone rang, breaking the empty silence of our melancholy discussion.
      And that was the beginning of the end of my life. On the other end of the line was Darrel Larkenshpol, he was an employee and janitor of the subway. He called to report an incident, and by the sound of it, I wouldn’t be able to take the case. The treacherous villain Environ had trashed the station, which is ironic because Environ is a slave to nature preserving.
     “Okay, we’ll be right over,” replied Trent, who clutched his overcoat in one hand and his coffee in the other hand. The steam of crisp delight wavered over the glass with a strong sense of refined dignity and overconfidence. His coat smelled of New York: the diversity, the food, the scent of smoke and oil with deep secrets foreign to man’s acknowledgement.
     He stepped to the door and let the cold torrent rush towards us.
     “Well, are you coming?” he asked as he continued out
     “No, I uh have some work at the apartment on fourth street,” I lied.
     “Oh, okay,” he walked out then entered back in, “Hey, have you seen my… Hmm that’s odd,” he stated confusedly, because at that moment I was gone.
                                     *****
     Oddly enough, the station gates were closed off. As he rushed through, Trent could see why. Environ and Miscellaneous were engaged in an epic battle.
     “I will end you!” a dark, robotic voice howled. The metallic, gloved hands pointed at the hero as the altercation persisted.
     They lunged at each other with bitter spite and contempt. Our hero is knocked down, but in his hustle to get up, he miscalculated his leap. When he hurdled up, he shot to his left, which was where the train tunnel was.
     Pursuing him into the cavern, which suddenly became flooded with streams of light. The loud horns screamed for them to get out of the way. Our hero got out through the next stop, yet Environ was nowhere to be seen.
     Trent was astounded, he was filled with confusion. The reporters flooded around him. 
     “No comment!” he confidently spoke
     This fine day, Environ was finally shorthanded in his evil doing. The cold hand of swift justice devoured him that day.
*****
     Trent sat in the office while pondering his next moves. Because of the over interrogative reporters, he was too stressed. Finally through the tense moment, I arrived.
     “Wow,” I exclaimed, “I missed all of the action! It’s in all the papers. Environ was run over! His whole suit just disintegrated after the train left. He isn’t human, so he must be a robot!”
     “No,” he spoke, “He is human! It must have been some kind of trick.” Thankfully, my partner didn’t notice my stratagem. Now I knew how intelligent he was, my fraudulent and fictitious paranoia had succeeded.
      Life went on. I stepped over to my chair.  If my hunch was correct, I would only have to wait until dark.
                                       *****
     Twelve o’clock. The office grew dark with the occasional beam striking against the frosted windows of the door. The clockwork ticked and chimed with resounding clasps. Trent sat back in his seat with his silly hat shadowing his face.
     Then a sound broke his meditation like a baseball through a window, he lifted the curtain to see what the sound was in the alley. Brightened by the street lights, the room became cheerier.
     Trent sprang from his seat, leaving behind the crumbled newspaper articles from his pocket. Quickly he slipped on his shoes and overcoat then swiped the camera from the shelf and ran out the door barely even slowing down to shut it.
     He needed just to scale the emergency ladder to get onto the roof.
     On top of the building I lay, my adversary hovering above me simply waiting for the opportune moment to injure my person. 
     Suddenly, out of the blue, Trent boots Environ off of the roof. He lands on the neighboring rooftop, which is where his evil device is conveniently located. Was he alive? Yes. He would use this device to cover the Earth with a forest! The buildings would be ruined with towering redwoods and the ground level would be a literal jungle of moss and insects. That would be terrible; it would be downright sixteenth century of him.
     Sure, I mean preserving nature can be a good thing, but not to the point where it ruins all aspects of life.
     I am weak, hurting and in dire pain. I need to tell Trent whom I take shape of in the day. For in truth, I am miscellaneous. He needs to know.
     “Trent, take off the mask,” I sputtered. He slowly lifted the mask. He gasped as he discovered the secret. Then we had a brief discussion of our secrets and my pleading for forgiveness for shaving his schnauzer.
     Anyway, we realize that the device must be at full power by now, so I then plotted to crush the device. I knew that Trent wouldn’t stand it, so I pretended to whisper in his ear, while I really handcuffed him to the vent.
     “Arrivederci, Trenton!” I speak as I take the fateful lunge. Freefalling in the unlit moonlight.
     “Nooooooooo!” Trent sobbed, and that was that, but as he peered over the edge, I was gone, the device lay smashed on the rooftop.