014 - News Weekly 29

Michael was an ordinary person. He went through hardships in his life, like many people. He had friends around him despite some occasional problems, like many people. His job wasn't paying that much but still a comfortable amount, like many people. But unlike many people, Michael was an avid collector.

He did not collect everything, no, but he still had items of interest. Most of them were magazines, sometimes rare books, occasionally other kind of art pieces. In the underground community of collectors, Michael had a handful of admirers. He had always a good sense of business, and had an eye for rare pieces. But his biggest quality, most of all, was the ability to find anything he wanted. Within days, he could get anything, whether just uncommon or very rare, shipped to his house. Now, this didn't seem like an impressive ability to anyone familiar with the internet, but Michael was way above it. Sometimes, he could find pieces so rare that they were never listed on any shop, and at best mentioned once in an obscure chatroom. But he had connections so strong, that some in the business like to say that "he has a worldwide arm reach".

One night, Michael was going back home from an auction. Like almost everytime, he had a good haul. Most of this stuff was actually for reselling, however, because he needed a way to fund his habits. Now, Michael may be a big shot in the collector world, but his passion devoured him so much that he never minded his own environment. Because that night, he made the terrible mistake of taking a shortcut. Four men were apparently doing business in the street he decided to take. Michael had no desire to know what the business was, but it was too late.

"Get the fuck out of here." said one of them.

"I'm sorry, I'm just… it's faster through that street, I'm going home."

"I said get the fuck out."

Michael figured it was best to not upset them, so he started to turn around. But suddenly…

"Hey ! What are you carrying ?"

Before he had a chance to turn back and explain, one of the men went to grab Michael's bag. He looked in it and asked him

"That shit's expensive ?"

"Oh yeah, kind of"

"Well thanks for the gift, man. Now get the fuck out of here."

"Hey, I can't give-"

Just then, Michael received a violent punch to the face. Unfortunately, that triggered  a much disastrous event. Struck by the powerful blow, Michael started falling. His head hit a slightly displaced brick in the wall, resulting in another hit to the back of his head. Immediately, Michael passed out from the concussion. After realising that, the four suspicious men had to run off, leaving Michael alone. He was found two hours later by a police patrol, and brought to an hospital.

Michael likes to stay informed. He liked being able to get every new thing he collected as soon as possible, and even stuff he didn't collect, to plan for his future sales. However, this habit had to come to a half, if only temporarily. Because that night, Michael didn't wake up.

Ten days later, he finally opened his eyes. He was in a hospital. But why was he there ? Oh, right. His memory was a bit hazy, but he remembered the incident in the street. In hindsight, he should have taken another road that night. He realized that he had no idea what day it was. All he could see, through his window, was that it was probably early in the morning. He looked for a remote to call the nurse, and pressed the button. It was only about thirty seconds, but the wait was killing him. Finally, the nurse arrived.

"You're awake ! That's wonderful. How do you feel ?"

"What day is it ?" he asked, disregarding the original question.

"Oh, well, it's Thursday."

Thursday ? He didn't like that answer. Clearly, he remembered that the auction took place on a Saturday, that couldn't be good.

"You mean… Thursday the 19th ?"

"No, no, we're the 26th. January 26th."

Oh god. Michael calculated quickly in his head. It had been eleven days since he got attacked in that street. He missed so much. Several releases. Two auctions. And probably a handful of online deals.

"Okay, okay, I want to go back home. Can I go ?"

"No, sir. We have to let you rest a bit now, and we'll release you when you're good to go."

"I AM good to go ! Just bring me home !"

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to wait."

Michael realized truly how much he missed. Truly, this was a tragedy for him. And not just for his belongings, but also for his reputation. What would the others think of him now ?

"Can I use a computer ?"

"Not now, sorry. I have to go now. Get some rest."

Get some rest ? What a joke. Michael had lost eleven days of his life. For all he knew, he could have missed anything. He reached the remote to the TV and turned it on. Apparently, a few things happened… but the world didn't change during those days. Good for him. Usually, Michael doesn't watch TV. In fact, he doesn't have one. He usually goes on the internet to read them, but his medium of choice was a magazine that condensated all the news for a week, followed by some interviews and analysis, and even sometimes small exclusive leaks, but rarely spicy. He always liked it, despite them not having many readers. It was called News Weekly. Come to think of it, it was one of his favorite collections, and also one of his newest. The magazine was quite young, and the audience didn't seem to care too much.

Two days later, the hospital ruled him good enough to leave, but still a bit early. First things first, Michael went to his local press office to grab some of his missing stuff. He goes to grab the latest News Weekly, #30. Wait. 30 ? Now that wasn't right. He always kept track of his collections, and he knew the last one he had was #28. But then he remembered. He wasted almost 2 weeks in that hospital. He went to the counter.

"Hey, do you still have the number 29 of News Weekly ?"

"Oh, I'm afraid nobody does."

"What do you mean by that ?"

"This one doesn't sell so much, usually. But this time, there were so many people out there wanting to get it. It went out of stock everywhere, and now they're super popular."

"Are you kidding me ?"

"Nah, I'm serious. But you can find it anyway, right ?"

Michael knew that he had everything at arm's reach, but… he never expected to do research like this for News Weekly. He went back to his place and looked up his usual spots, and started to dig up. It was… something weird. Nothing came up. Then he thought, did the guy at the press office lie to him ? So he made a simple research of the News Weekly #29. And there, he found multiple discussions about that edition. It was confirmed now. There was actually something happening with it. How could this be ?

Then, Michael was curious to see how his sales fluctuated. He looked through his various auction or reselling accounts, and saw that he did make some good money out of it. Then, Michael went to see how much his bank account had now. And then, he saw something that he could not believe. It was… completely empty. There was nothing left. All his money, gone. Completely panicked, Michael immediately called his bank, gave his account details, and waited anxiously for the explanation.

"Sir, we have here the details of your fluctuations. Apparenlty, you used your card a lot for this past week. So we eventually closed it in order to see if you were really behind all those payments, but you never answered."

"Well of course I never answered, I was in a fuc- I was in a coma !"

"We're sorry sir, we haven't heard word from you. Do you want to reopen your card ?"

"No, please, cancel it. There's something wrong. I never paid for all of that."

Michael was too angry to hear the rest, so he hung up. He went back a bit on his search of News Weekly #29. What the hell happened with this magazine. They all said there was something very special in it, but none of them talked in detail. Instead of waiting, he decided to call one his peers in the business, Charles. If he ever had a question too difficult to figure out himself, he called Charles.

"Hey there, Michael. I've heard about what happened to you. I checked on you last Monday."

"Uh, thanks Charles, I appreciate. Look, I've got a question here…"

"It's News Weekly, right ?"

"Yeah. Why can't I find the #29 anywhere ?"

"They pulled it away from the stores, all of them."

"What ? I thought many people bought them !"

"That is also true. And both are for the same reason."

"What reason ?"

"They had some kind of misprint… And between the pages, there was a list of leaked account numbers."

"Oh god… was there mine in it ?"

"I don't know, I couldn't get one of them either. Don't tell me you… ?"

"I think that's it… I lost everything in that."

The rest of the conversation was mostly about Charles trying to find solutions for Michael, but to no avail. They weren't exactly friends, though Charles tried to be. But Michael was always some kind of special character, almost married to his hobby. The discussion ended on "I'll see what I can do" from Charles.

Michael's next got a call. It was from the police. They asked him to go to the station so he could talk about the time he got assaulted. He thought he didn't have time for this, but did not want to get into any more trouble.

"Good news, sir. We got the person who sent you to the hospital."

"What ? You got him ?"

"He's called Steve Dockman. He was known from us as some kind of informer, worked with some criminal rings. Weird guy."

"And the others ?"

"Didn't say anything about accomplices. It was pretty hard to link him to your agression, too."

Michael then had a brief interview with the officer, then got to leave and go home. He knew he had to settle something. He found the number of the agency that made News Weekly, and called them.

"Hello, News Weekly. Can I help you ?"

"I'd like to talk to who the hell put the account details on your magazine !"

"Sir, like we declared, this was a misprint. We are sorry if anyone you know got in trouble."

"Hey, I asked you to let me talk to whoever did this !"

"Sir, I can't- Alright, just a moment."

After a while, a different person picked up.

"Michael, this is Edward. What is the problem ?"

"Oh, Edward, there you are. Are you the one who fucked me over ?"

"Michael, this is a misunderstanding. Yes, it's my fault, but I didn't leak your account details."

"So you know there was mine !"

"Yes, but there's something. One of our journalists hid it intentionally."

"Your journalist ?"

"Yeah, he got fired. He told us he got the info from his friend, who's in jail now apparently."

"Wait. Was his friend Steve ?"

"Yeah, you know him ?"

Michael finally got it. And he knew what he had to do.

"Thanks, Edward. I got what I needed."

"No problem, and if you ever need something…"

"Actually, can you send me your #29 issue in compensation ?"

"What, is this a joke ? You really want that ?"

"I'm never joking. And thank you."

That day, Michael had an auction, and it was finishing late. This time, not so much of a good auction. But the main event was for later. He was a bit tired, so he thought, maybe he could take a shortcut to his house. He went into this small street, and he saw three men inside, doing some kind of business. This time, he knew what business they were up to.

"Hey, you. Get out." he heard.

"I'm sorry, but is one of you a journalist for News Weekly ?"

There was a pause. One of the men spoke up.

"Oh shit, you're that Michael guy, right ?"

"So you leaked my account details ?"

"You sent my best friend to prison, you piece of shit. Just because you wanted to get a fucking shortcut." he said to Michael, while moving menacingly towards him.

"Well, I got something to say too."

Michael pulled a gun from his bag, and pointed it at his almost-assaillant.

"Maybe you can compensate by giving me back my money."

"Woah there ! I didn't spend your money or anything, dude. Drop that gun."

"Not my problem. Give me what you got."

"Shit, man. You're crazy."

The guy eventually gave him his wallet.

"Thank you, now I'd like to go home."

After a week, Michael finally got back to all his habits. As people liked to say, he "got back in business". Eventually, he even got a special copy of News Weekly #29 from his friend Edward who worked for the magazine. He sat there, comfortably in his chair, reading the magazine. But, after a few pages, he closed it.

"Man, why do I even buy this stuff ? It sucks."

He got up from his chair, and put it back in his collection, where it belonged.