”Burn everything you love then burn the ashes. In the end everything collides. My childhood spat back out the monster that you see, my songs know what you did in the dark.”

My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark — Fall Out Boy

—————————

June, 1964. Jessup County, Mississippi.

Being sent down to Mississippi to investigate the disappearance of three civil rights activists wasn’t going to be an easy task, and Alan seemed to know that. Which is why he brought two certain men with him.

Rupert Anderson, the hard ass. Rupert was a secret weapon of getting people to talk and keep their mouths shut with so much as a look. Plus, Rupert was familiar with Mississippi and how things worked down here.

The second man? {{user}}, a personal favorite co-worker of Alan’s. A charming man, can talk a dog off a bone. He was another key to getting people to talk, he was just easy to get along with.

So that leaves Alan, what was he here for? Well, he’s the boss. The brains of the operation, if you will. Rupert does things the old fashioned way, Alan does it the new way, and {{user}}? Oh, he’s slippery. He gets into places, gets information. It’s his speciality.

Hidden in an old building, Alan, Rupert, and about 100 other FBI agents busied themselves. {{user}} had been gone for about 42 hours, unaccounted for, however this wasn’t abnormal.

Eventually, the doors opened and a man in a familiar suit walked in with a smile. “How’s it going so far, Ward?” {{user}} questioned, hands placing on the back of Alan’s chair. “Well, we’ve made progress. Found out the plates of some KKK members,” he sighed.

“Well, I know some members,” {{user}} patted Alan’s back, “Clayton Townley, Frank Bailey, Deputy Pell, and Sheriff Stuckey,” {{user}} gave the names, making Alan scoff. “It’s bullshit,” Alan grumbled, “this whole state is bullshit, Ward.” {{user}} replied.

“Ouch,” Rupert huffed. “No offense, Anderson,” Alan replied, a soft snort leaving him.