Part Four: The KR

The KR

Walter left the office he loathed and suddenly felt free from it. The future was truly unclear, but he was now free to do as he pleased. It surely wasn’t the end of the world for his paintings still remained in his tiny living room and Leroy Spaklovitch was still alive. As he stepped onto the Boston sidewalk, he noticed a woman on the other side. Her hair was dull brown and her muted, blue dress stretched clear down to her ankles robbing of her womanly figure. She leaned up against the wall of a building that seemed to have gone untouched for a number of years. Eager to go home and paint, he had been walking quickly from Mr. Kronx’s office, but here he felt his legs come to a halt for no other reason except that she, this woman across the street, intrigued him. Her face looked sleep deprived and her eyes were fixated solely on what was in front of her. He wasn’t entirely sure if she was looking at him or the building he couldn’t stand when suddenly, she motioned for him to cross the street, turned over her right shoulder, and disappeared around the corner to a smaller, less crowded alleyway. Against his better judgment, Walter followed. It took him a few minutes longer than she because he had to cross the street over the loud car horns and chaos of the work place, but he managed to find her sitting outside of a dimly-lit cafe. He was positive that it was her. Her face looked even more so fatigued than it had from across the street.
Her dark gray eyes, a deep abyss that held secrets of which Walter pleaded to hear, were held up by deep, dark circles. Walter wanted to paint them to ensure that they would match the rest of her face instead of giving her sleep deprivation a physical attribute for all to see.
"Sit down," her voice cut through the busy street noise. Walter obeyed her commands. "You have just put your life in the most significant danger you might ever come in contact with. Do you understand me? You are in grave danger and the only way to get out of it is to come with me right now. You must stay safe."
She spoke quickly with a purpose that captivated Walter's every being.
"What are you talking about? Does this have to do with Mr. Kronx and his weird job?" He found himself growing annoyed with the amount of secrecy he had been given recently.
"Yes. It has everything to do with it. Now, come with me. We need to get you informed."
"Oh please. That would be nice," Walter sarcastically spat out his remark as the mysterious woman with answers marched up to another alleyway. Walter followed.

She approached a small black door in the middle of a brick building and knocked three times. The door opened to reveal a tall and scrawny man dressed in dark clothing. They walked straight past him into a dark hallway. Walter questioned his whereabouts and general safety in the lack of lamp-light.
Do these people ever stay in the light for more than a moment? Do they even like the light—maybe they’re vampires! That’s it, Kronx hates them because they are vampires and he is trying to kill them all! There must be some underworld war going on right underneath my nose!
Walter’s imagination had a way of expanding when he was placed in high pressure situations such as this one. It was one of the many perks that he associated with being a successful painter.
The mystery woman made a sharp right and flipped on a switch that provided less than enough light to see the staircase they were about to descend. At the bottom of the stairs, however, was a brightly lit room with couches and tables and a large board similar to one of a detective’s. It held pictures and slips of paper scribbled with words and were held together with string and arrows pointing chaotically in every direction. Were they solving a murder here?
The mystery woman motioned for Walter to sit on one of the mismatched couches. This one was dark red velvet and smelled of cigarettes and red wine.
"Welcome to The KR,” her voice had become clearer now that they were underground and looked less like criminals at a dimly-lit cafe speaking in hushed voices. "We're the resistance. We're the movement. We want to stop Kronx from his evil deeds and we need your help. I’m--"
At this statement, before Walter could ask any of his multiple questions, another woman dressed in an eggplant purple suit entered the room. Contrary to the woman Walter had previously encountered, she was strikingly beautiful. Her hair was auburn in color and her slender body glided across the room.
"You're probably confused as to what exactly we do, Mr. Watson. Do you have plans tonight? You'll be here a while.” Walter discovered why the couch smelled of cigarettes and wine as he heard her speak directly to him.
"No, I don't have any plans," Walter managed to whisper.
"Perfect. Let's begin." She took a seat at a dining room chair next to the board of suspects and clues which Walter had just begun to survey more closely. In the center of the board was Mr. Kronx with the word 'murderer’ scribbled across the top in red marker.
"I'm assuming you know this man," she pointed to the dashing company picture of Mr. Kronx, "He is not who you think he is. This man is, in fact, your worst enemy. You know him as the head of your former company, the Stuffin’ Muffin Muffin Company. We know him as a murderer, a liar, and a cheat.” Her speech was eloquent and inspiring, the same as any other passionate person may be. Walter felt important here, like he mattered to the world. “Before Mr. Kronx was a successful Mr. Kronx, however, there was a great tragedy. There was a great deal that happened in his little town that no one knows about. What did they tell you about how the company started?” She gave Walter no chance to answer though he wasn’t sure if he would be able to do so.
“It was something about happiness and muffins and a mother that loved him, right? Well, that’s a lie, Mr. Watson. Maybelle George, Kronx’s mother, was crazy. Literally. She was diagnosed with severe Schizotypal Personality Disorder. Those muffins she made were truly delicious and the beginning to the powerful company, but the motive behind it was a façade, a dirty lie. You see, Maybelle George went missing the winter before the company was founded and no one questioned her whereabouts because of her insanity. People had assumed that she was thrown into an institution, but no institution has Maybelle registered. And what’s more, Charles, Kronx’s father, was killed two months after the doors of Stuffin’ Muffin opened. It was an ‘accident’, but we know more than the police. We believe that Kronx killed his father and has hidden his mother in some secret location that we cannot find.”
“Wait. Why do you need me?” Walter chose this question out of all of the questions racing through his mind for reasons he couldn’t uncover.
“Because, Walter,” she knew his name and pronounced it correctly every time she said it which energized Walter and made him feel at home, “Kronx wanted you to be on his side because he saw some quality in you that he liked and needed and you were brave enough to turn his offer down. It isn’t that we need you. You need us. Obviously, Kronx knows that you might be suspicious of the job He will try to rid of you. How are we sure? Because it happened to us too. Allow me to introduce you to the team. My name is Melanie, I’m the head of this secret organization. This is Sylvia,” she motioned to the woman dressed in drab clothing Walter had initially been intrigued by on the street. Sylvia is the head of our undercover department. We have three other Undercovers, or ‘UC’s, as we call them, that you’ll meet today. The others you will meet in time, because, well—they’re undercover. The man you first saw upstairs is Harry. He is our lookout, but also helps us with transportation and getting from place to place without being discovered. Ah, Dean!” A short, young man came into the room. He looked stylish and put-together with clean, up-to-date clothes. Walter thought he might have walked out of a magazine and then pictured painting such a scene. “This is Dean Pratt. He is the brains of our entire existence; that is to say, he is the technical director of The KR. He plans our excursions and undercover work and helps us with compiling any information we might need.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Walter Watson. I’ll be helping you get acquainted with The KR in the next couple of days. I’m looking forward to working with you and will help you with whatever you need,” Dean was incredibly nice and seemed to be more intelligent than Walter could imagine being.
“Before we go any further, we need to know everything about you,” Melanie commanded the conversation once again. “Kronx has most likely begun the plot against you and we need to ensure your safety by knowing your every move. You’re one of us now. Welcome. Now, how long have you been a painter?”