Shadow of the Knight

by Susan Lee

  "I'm sorry," she found herself whispering to him as tears finally broke through. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for it to go this far. I didn't want to hurt you. I just... I just wanted you... I just wanted you to be..."

  But even she couldn't bring herself to say what she wanted to say out loud. She brushed the sweat from his forehead. She had left his face untouched because she couldn't bear to mar what she saw as perfection. The tears began to build up under her mask, making it impossible to see. Without thinking, she slid the mask off, brushing the tears away.

  Rick stifled a sob, still deep in his netherworld, and her heart broke more.

  "I'm so sorry," she cried out this time, loudly, horrified, some sense of sanity being dredged to the surface by the sounds he was making. Her voice grew louder as she backed away from him. "I didn't mean to. I just... I didn't mean to..."

  Mickey ran from the room, her mask abandoned at his side. She slammed the door to her private area so hard that the windows rattled. Terrified, filled with emotions she couldn't sort out, Mickey simply stalked back and forth, her mind doing battle loudly and angrily.

  One side of her screamed to let Rick go. There would be horrific fall out, of course, but that's what she deserved. The other side of her screamed just as loudly to finish it, make him admit who he was. Because that side of her believed still that he was her Batman. It would just take some more time. She just needed some more goddamned time.

  The battle raged louder and louder, making her head want to split in two.

  "Stop it!" Mickey found herself screaming at nothing. "Stop it!" She began to pound herself in the head, trying to get the voices to be silent. "Just fucking stop!" She struck herself harder but that only made both sides crank it up a notch.

  After the sixth time she banged her head against the concrete wall, everything stopped.

  Hours later, she came to. She was startled to see the small pool of blood underneath her as she struggled to sit up. Needless to say, her head was exploding. She gently probed her forehead, testing the pain. Yup, it hurt. A lot. A fucking lot. So she decided she should probably stop touching it.

  Slowly, she found her feet, using the wall that had beaten her to get all the way up. She hung on until the room decided which way was going to be up. Her stomach threatened to give up what little she had eaten, but it hung on.

  A couple of deep breaths later, she experimented with walking. Everything seemed to be in working order, though it took some effort to achieve smooth forward motion.

  Her forward motion propelled her back to Rick's room. She refused to think of it as his cell, though that's what it was. She realized that she should have checked the video feed before she went to him but her brain forgot to remind her.

  She hesitated outside the door, not wanting to admit that she was afraid. She knew that the moment was approaching the denouement, the tipping point. Which way it tipped was going to be epic and final. She gave that thought one long moment before she got down on her knees and flipped the little flap open.

  Her mask. In his hand.

  Her hand instinctively went to her face, just to make sure. Yup. It was hers.

  And he was awake. He couldn't bring the mask up to his own face, so he just used his fingers to twist it and turn it this way and that. Almost exactly like she had been flipping the mask in her own hands. He could barely lift his head off the pillow, so he strained as far as his limited resources would allow him so that he could look at the leather she had left behind.

  His eyes shifted to the slash in the door.

  "I know you're there," he rasped, his voice raw.

  She stared back at him, more curious than anything else. And he watched her watching him.

  "Are you enjoying this?" he hissed, all traces of civility wiped out by a thousand small cuts everywhere. "Torture get you off? Read 'Fifty Shades of Grey' a few too many times? Pain is love and all that bullshit?"

  Still, she watched. And he watched her. He flicked his gaze to the mask in his hand. "Masks. Chains. Torture. What stupid chick-lit has brought us to." He waited, measuring her but she was still quiet. "What's on the menu today? My testicles? Seems to be the only spot you haven't stabbed to death."

  And still she waited while her head throbbed, voices buried underneath the rhythm of her blood. She watched as he began to seethe. "C'mon, already, you stupid bitch! Get it over with! Just kill me!"

  Mickey began to laugh - out of control, warbling, disjointed laughter. "'Bitch'?" she chortled. "So pedantic. I figured you for more of the 'let me impress you with all the big words I know' kinda guy."

  A flicker of almost recognition flashed in his eyes.

  She pulled away and slammed the little flap shut, as though she could feel him probing her through the tiny slot.

  In that moment, she knew he would never freely admit his true identity. He would never give that up when it was just him in danger.

  She knew what she had to do.

  And the last of the real Mickey died as she dialed the number on her burner cell phone. A number she knew by heart. The number of the one person who Mickey knew would come running.

  • • • • • • • • • • •

  And Patty didn't disappoint. Within an hour after her call, Patty as sitting at the appointed coffee shop, waiting impatiently for her friend. She didn't know that Mickey was watching her from across the street, sitting in Rick's car. She didn't know that Mickey was intentionally making her wait, to make her anxious, to make her tense, and to make sure Patty would be willing to do whatever Mickey told her to do.

  Mickey strolled slowly across the street, reviewing her plan. She knew just which buttons to push to manipulate her friend and she felt no guilt for what she was about to do. She needed this to work so, therefore, it had to work.

  Mickey checked herself in the rearview mirror. The lump on her head was hidden under a cap. Her self-battery had a raised a bruise the size of a plum and she didn’t want Patty to see it. But at the last minute, she thought it might add credence to her story so she tossed the hat in the back.

  Mickey stopped just outside the coffee shop, peeking in to check things out.

  She jumped up and down a few times, ignoring the stares of the people entering the coffee shop, and took a few big, quick breaths. Then she dashed into the store, looking around as if she didn't already know exactly where Patty was sitting. She feigned surprise as Patty waved, rushing over to the table and slamming into the seat opposite her friend.

  "Patty!" Mickey gasped, grabbing the hand that Patty put out to her. "I'm so glad you could come!"

  "You know you can count on me any time," Patty replied, squeezing Mickey's hand. I know, Mickey thought, that's why I called.

  "I know," Mickey admitted out loud. "That's why I called." Mickey faked a couple of deep breaths again, as though trying to calm down. The truth was, she really was excited because she just knew this was going to give her the result she wanted. She just had to move carefully and make sure she did this right.

  "What's going on?" Patty asked, concern coloring her voice.“What happened to your head?”

  "I just didn't know what to do," Mickey lied, coming way too easily to her. She touched her head and then just shook it off. "I think I know where Rick is. And I think he's in trouble." Mickey figured the closer she stuck to the truth, the more truthful the lie would sound.

  "What? Why didn't you call the police?"

  This is the tricky part, Mickey knew. If she played it wrong, Patty would bring the heavy hammer of authority down on her and she'd never get the truth out of Rick. She had to tread lightly.

  "I don't think he wants to be found," Mickey whispered, her eyes darting around conspiratorially. "I think he did something and he doesn't want the police to know." Mickey glanced around again, hoping to sell her story. She watched Patty absorb her bullshit and watched her accept it.

  "What kind of thing?"

  Again with the looking around before she spoke, Mickey said, "I think it
had something to do with that waitress who died." Mickey played her trump card, dropping V cki's name tag on the table.

  Patty's face reflected so many different thoughts and emotions that Mickey lost count. She tried to hide how delighted she was that her plan was working. Maybe being a villain wasn't so difficult after all.

  Patty’s hands shook as she picked up the name tag, turning it over and over in her fingers. Her sweet, terrified eyes tried to figure out the puzzle in front of her.

  "What does this mean? What did he do?"

  Mickey took the tag back and stuffed it in her bag. "I'm not really sure. He really won't talk to me.”Mickey played it just right as she touched the bruise again, succeeding at implying that it was inflicted by Rick.“But I think he might talk to you. Maybe you can convince him to do the right thing."

  Patty took a long time considering. Mickey almost ripped her arm off when Patty started fiddling with her phone. Lucky for her arm, Patty stopped fidgeting.

  "Where is he?" That's when Mickey knew she had won.

  • • • • • • • • • • •

  Mickey had Patty pull her car inside the warehouse, closing the elephant door solidly behind her. Patty didn't see the padlock slide into place.

  "How did you find him here?" Patty wanted to know as she got out of her car.

  "He called me before I lost my phone." Mickey was finding it easier and easier to lie. At this point, it didn't matter because she knew that Patty was never going to be able to tell anyone the truth. "Told me to meet him here. I was so surprised but I came. C'mon, I'll take you to him."

  Mickey was sure Patty could hear her heart pounding with excitement as they made their way through the maze of debris. She tried to keep up the guise of being afraid but was quickly losing the ability to keep that facade up.

  "Why would he come here? It doesn't make sense to me."

  "Who knows? He seemed desperate."

  Just a little bit further, Mickey kept thinking. Just stay with me a little bit further. But Patty started to slow down the deeper they went.

  "I don't like this," Patty blurted out as they reached the back of the warehouse. "Rick? Are you here?"

  Trying to maintain control and not slap the shit out of her friend, Mickey reached out and gently took Patty's hand.

  "He's right here," Mickey stated, opening the door to where she was holding Rick.

  Patty saw just enough to realize that there was something horribly wrong before the hypodermic knocked her out.

  ELEVEN

  If there was any of the Mickey-That-Was left, she died when Mickey duct-taped her best friend to an ancient but sturdy wheelchair she had found. Mickey felt no remorse, no sorrow, no sadness. She felt nothing at all, which actually made her feel pretty good. She had felt so much for so long. Now, feeling empty and devoid of the ability to feel, ironically, felt great. She would never admit it but Mickey might have been humming as she trussed up her best friend.

  Mickey may also have still been humming as she wheeled Patty into the room where Rick was once again unconscious. She had waited until he was out and sneaked in to get her mask back. She maneuvered Patty's chair into a position where Rick couldn't miss her when he opened his eyes. He would see the offering. He would see the victim. He would see that he had no choice but to admit the truth.

  Mickey hugged the shadows in the doorway, not bothering to close it because she knew she was in control and neither of them could possibly escape. Efficient, effective, those were her two strongest traits, according to some farcical test she had to take for a job a millennia ago. Efficient. Effective. Never imagined it would benefit villainy so.

  She stood with the darkness, not moving, not breathing. Like a panther, she thought. Then she thought, do panthers wait in the darkness? Do any jungle cats? Maybe, because they can see in the dark. Maybe there was a better metaphor somewhere.

  She made a note to look up prey that hovered in the darkness when she was done with her plan for the night.

  Movement. There was movement from the bed. He was waking up. She held her breath, excited to see what was going to happen.

  What happened was recognition as his eyes focused on the figure in the wheelchair. His eyes ran around the room, seeking the woman who had put them both there. He didn't see the dark figure amongst the other shadows. His gaze returned to the woman in the wheelchair. He struggled to sit up, try to get a better look. But Mickey had locked him down tighter than ever.

  "Patty?" he ventured, already knowing the answer. "Oh, my god. Patty!" Ten minutes ago, the anguish in his voice would have brought Mickey to her knees. But now, it touched her not at all.

  The woman in the wheelchair moved in response to his voice. He struggled harder. "Patty!" he called again. "Patty! Are you okay?"

  Slowly, Patty opened her eyes. Bleary but fighting for consciousness, her eyes began to focus on the man on the bed. She tried to speak but found her mouth duct-taped as well. She desperately looked around, trying to figure out how she got there.

  "Let her go!" Rick bellowed, turning toward the door because he didn't know what else to do. "Please, don't hurt her. I'll do anything you want. Do what you want to me, but don't hurt her!"

  He saw a movement in the darkness as Mickey slowly put her mask into place. She realized it was probably a moot point now, but she did it anyway. She had a character to play.

  He stopped yelling as Mickey strolled into the room. Patty, however, had now reached full consciousness and pretty much lost her shit as her good friend wandered in like nothing was going on. She tried to scream, to yell, to warn, but the duct tape did what it is known for and hung on for dear life.

  "You have to listen to me," Rick demanded, but Mickey just leaned down and put her finger carefully to his lips. He didn’t move, startled by the contact.

  "Shhhhhhh," she whispered, pulling her finger away before he could put together the thought to bite it off. "I heard you. I've always heard you." She moved seductively around the foot of the bed. "I heard you in the dark. I heard you in my dreams. I heard you every single day for the longest time."

  Mickey wandered over to Patty, whose eyes watched carefully as her friend unraveled to the n-th degree. Patty tried not to pull away as her friend leaned down, mask obliterating her features, and smiled creepily at her.

  "I heard you say you'll do anything I want, right?"

  Rick tried not to panic as the crazy came off of Mickey in waves. He looked at Patty's terrified face. He knew he had to do everything to protect her. "Yes," he finally said reluctantly, speaking softly and trying to stay calm. "Please. Please don't hurt her. She hasn't done anything." He shifted again, despite the pain, trying to get Mickey to look at him. "Please. Whatever you want."

  Suddenly, Mickey was in his face, closer than a breath.

  "Tell me you're Batman," she almost hissed.

  "Wh...What?"

  "Batman. Bruce Wayne. Dark Knight. Whichever you prefer."

  Rick's addled brain struggled to comprehend what she was saying. "You think... You think I'm Batman?"

  Then he made a huge mistake.

  Rick laughed.

  He didn't see the punch coming but he sure as shit felt it land.

  "Laugh again," Mickey dared him, her eyes wild under the mask. "Laugh. Again."

  He didn't.

  "I knew it was you, you know," Mickey explained calmly. That was scarier to Rick than when she was yelling. "That night. When it happened. It was you. You saved me. Admit it."

  He frowned, trying to figure out what the hell she was talking about. "What night? I don't know what you're talking about."

  That's when the knife appeared. Rick immediately shut up, having learned how horrible that knife, a million small cuts, and something as innocuous as a lemon could be. That she had gotten careless and deeper with the cuts was something he didn't forget.

  But she didn't move towards him. She went to Patty. "You can save her, you know," Mickey continued, "just like you saved me. We
ll, maybe not exactly like you saved me."

  Instead of the small but painful cut Rick was expecting, Mickey carved a sizable curve down Patty's forearm, just missing the main arteries. After all, Mickey had experience with cutting open arteries. Patty screamed under the duct tape, Rick's cries riding over top of that.

  "Wait! Wait!" Rick pleaded. "Tell me again! When did I save you? I... I've been here a long time. And... and you've... well... I'm kind of weak. I don't remember. But I want to remember. Can you help me remember?"

  "Okay, sure," Mickey responded as she carved Patty's other arm to match.

  "No!" he screamed. "Stop!" He took a deep breath and tried another tactic. "I'm sorry. I'm in pain. You've hurt me and it's making it hard for me to remember. Just... just give me a hint, a bit of a reminder. Then maybe I'll remember. Please. I want to do this."

  Mickey pondered for a moment. She studied his face, his eyes, his everything. He seemed to mean it. And she had done substantial damage to him. Maybe he did need a little help. Maybe he would remember and admit to everything. She decided to give him one last chance.

  "The roof," she began, "the convention. The attack. Your brother's 'accident'."

  That clicked. "My brother... The convention... Mickey?"

  For a moment, Mickey stood perfectly still. Neither of her prisoners moved, uncertain of why she was so still. Neither wanted her to break.

  But she wasn't breaking. She was savoring. This, to her, seemed to be some kind of breakthrough. He was willing to talk about that night. He wasn't denying things. He might be close to admitting what she wanted him to admit.

  To drag on the moment, she slowly removed her mask. Felt a little overdramatic, she thought for a second, but she was the villain, after all. She had to be overdramatic to get his reaction.

  Mickey dangled the mask over Rick, watching his face process everything. He knew it now. He knew it was her. He knew what night she was talking about. Now, he would tell her everything.