Dark Guardian: Legends (Dark Guardian Book 3)

by Ammar Habib

The man did not reply.

  “Are you with me or not?”

  After several moments, the man nodded. “What will happen at nightfall?”

  “The man responsible for your village’s destruction will be gone, along with his so-called army. And the rest of your people trapped in this fortress will be free… and unharmed.”

  “You… you will do all that by yourself?”

  The Guardian ignored the question and looked back at the last militant. “And I will let you do to this scum whatever you want.”

  The old man could not believe the words coming out of this stranger’s mouth. This had to be a dream. “Wh—why are you doing this?”

  “Because helping you is going to help me hunt down the one I’m after.”

  ***

  “President Villanueva, soon it will be one year since you took office. Are you satisfied with the progress that has been made during this time?”

  Listening to the reporter’s question, Villanueva smiled at the young lady. The two of them sat on their comfortable, beige chairs, facing one another. In the meeting room, the window blinds were pulled back, allowing rays of sunlight to come in. The white carpet had been cleaned this morning, and the room itself did not contain a single speck of dust. Against the closest wall rested an auburn bookshelf, its shelves neatly filled with books arranged in alphabetical order. But being merely for show, not a single one of those books wore the signs of ever being read. A camera rested on the other side of the duo. Behind it, a cameraman operated the device, capturing each and every detail of the interview for the evening’s news report.

  Villanueva rested his elbows on either armrest of his chair and clasped his hands together. He was dressed like any president: in a tailored black suit with a white shirt and navy tie. He spoke in the calm, but commanding voice he was renowned for. “Ms. Martin, I believe that the progress we have made is incredible. There is always room for improvement and I won’t say that I accomplished everything that I wanted to during this past year, but we have improved leaps and bounds since I took office and the new government came into place.”

  “Where do you see the nation going from here?” The reporter wore a black, three-button herringbone skirt suit. Her blonde locks were tied into a long ponytail.

  “Well, it’s all about continuing to improve and push forward. For a country of its size, our great nation of Tripton has the lowest crime rate in the world. The last time any country this large had a crime rate this low was at least a hundred years ago. Much of it stems from a change in the hearts of the people.”

  “Mr. President, people ask the question: how much of that is due to governmental policies and how much of that is due to The Guardian?”

  “I think it’s due to both.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Without either one of them, we would not be where we are today.” He leaned back in his chair a bit. “Without The Guardian the old government would never have been replaced in the first place. But he can only do so much. Without the new policies that combat corruption and crime, while keeping individual freedoms and liberties, all of The Guardian’s actions would have been pointless. He raised the banner, but we must now hold it up.”

  “Speaking of The Guardian, what do you think has happened to the original Guardian? There are claims that Ethan Daniels has been seen but there is nothing official.”

  “I have not heard from him. Nor have any of my sources.”

  “Do you believe he is alive?”

  “If fighting against Crown City’s and Tripton’s crime and corruption for several years did not kill him, then I don’t think there is much that can.”

  The reporter kept her eyes on Villanueva. “You have said many times that the government will not actively search for him. Is that still your stance?”

  “It is.”

  “Many other nations are searching for him as we speak after branding him as an international terrorist.”

  “I believe that many nations are frightened of what he has started. Since Tripton was able to turn itself around, many other nations are expiriencing similar changes. Sadly, some people in power don’t want a change in the status quo if it means that they will lose their power.”

  “How long do you think until the bubble of what has started will burst?”

  “If it does burst, it won’t happen in the near future. As long as we stay the course, others will follow and have the same success. Our own neighboring nation is the best example. Like us, they are a large and powerful nation. They have experienced a nonviolent revolution for the past year. And now, from what my sources tell me, President Khan is about to give into their demands.”

  “Some say that you put a lot of pressure on him to do so.”

  Villanueva slightly smiled.

  “And many say that last year’s attack in their capital city of Zimba, the attack by the super-soldiers—as the media have taken to calling them—has played a big part in the political changes that are happening there.”

  “It’s no doubt that the attack may have been the catalyst. But I believe that even without the attack, it was only a matter of time before they followed our example as other nations have.”

  “Scores of people there, some very powerful figures, are calling for Ethan’s head. During the attack almost thirty people were killed and nearly a hundred more were injured. And then there’s the millions of dollars of damage that was done. Now many are demanding that he be taken into custody to answer for his actions. After all, it was during that battle that the world learned of Ethan’s identity as The Guardain.”

  “As far as I am concerned, he saved the entire city. The attackers took the lives and caused the damage. If it was not for him, the entire city would have burned to the ground.”

  The reporter leaned a little forward. “That may be. But when you took office, you promised that Ethan and Katrina Daniels would be protected by the government if they came back. Now a rumor persists that the country of Northshire demands that you remove that protection before they sign the economic agreement that your government has been working out with them for some time.”

  “I’m not at liberty to say. However, the recent economic deal that we agreed to sign with Northshire will only add to the economic prosperity that we have not had for decades now. King Maximus has invested his power in his niece, Princess Amelia, to come and sign the treaty. Once the treaty is signed, we estimate that the nation’s economy will grow by almost nine percent over the course of the next year.”

  “Do you believe Ethan will come back?”

  “Ethan liquefied what assets he could and made sure the money could not be traced. He took more than a hundred million dollars with him, at the least. The rest was given to his brother. When he left, I think that he knew he would not return.”

  “What do you think he’s after now?”

  “I don’t know,” Villanueva lied.

  “Now, concerning this new Guardian who appeared shortly after Ethan’s disappearance, it is common knowledge that he works with the government—”

  “I can assure you that he is not an agent of my administration.”

  The reporter smirked. “Mr. President, we all know that he coordinates with government agents in the field. He may not be an agent himself, but he works with law enforcement on a regular basis. Countless eye witnesses attest to this fact.”

  Villanueva did not say anything, but simply smiled.

  “So the question is: are you giving him orders or is he operating as a vigilante?”

  “He uses his better judgment.”

  “…meaning?”

  “Exactly what I said: he uses his better judgment.”

  The reporter nodded, knowing she would not receive a more precise answer. “And as for the identity of this new Guardian who has been operating since Ethan’s disappearance, do you know his identity?”

  Villanueva shook his head, telling the truth this time.

  “It was commonly known that when Ethan Daniels was The
Guardian, he did have an accomplice.”

  “He did and we know who it was. William Jones, his best friend. But sadly, William died a few weeks before Ethan was ousted as The Guardian and disappeared.”

  “It is known that whoever the new Guardian is, he is a skilled fighter. Do you believe he could have been trained by Ethan?”

  “I can’t say. I’ve never met him in person.”

  The reporter didn’t buy it. “Do you want that to go on the record? It is known that you and he are working together.”

  “Well, Ms. Martin, I can assure you that I have never come face-to-face with the new Guardian.”

  “You mean without him wearing his mask.”

  “Take it as you wish, Ms. Martin. But the facts are that without Ethan creating this new world with and without his mask, and without the new Guardian watching over it, we would not be where we are today. That is my public stance. And you can put that on the record.”

  ***

  For the past week, security at the fortress had been tight. Usually, only a handful of guards were posted. Fear always kept potential attackers at bay. But a week ago, news had reached of nearby war lords turning up dead. Powerful, feared, and under the protection of strong nations after cutting deals with them, the war lords had always appeared invincible, untouchable. But now, one by one, they were being vanquished, leaving the warlord Cabaas more frightened than ever before.

  Everyone knew who raged the one-man-war against the warlords. It was Crown City’s savior: the original Guardian.

  Ethan Daniels. That name brought fear to the hearts of every criminal. Since disappearing over a year ago from Crown City after his bloody duel with Vixen and her soldiers, he had been spotted sporadically in nearly every corner of the globe. But wherever he went, something was always left behind: corpses of the wicked.

  Now he was here. Cabaas’ fortress itself was only a stronghold in name. In reality, it was simply a single mansion and a few outlying buildings. This manor had once housed the wealthiest man in Amaristan, but he had fled the nation when the warlords took control. The mansion, now overrun with criminals, was a shadow of its former self. The windows were all but destroyed. The walls were irreversibly damaged, worn down, cracked and crumbling. The elegant furniture, curtains, and carpets had been wrecked by drunken men, while the portraits were smashed and shot up. Empty bottles littered the carpeted floors. The building, once a symbol of Amaristan’s elegance and wealth, now stood as a symbol of tyranny.

  Under the cover of darkness, Ethan wasted little time dispatching a small patrol outside of the building. As his last foe collapsed, he scaled the tree and settled on a branch before sheathing his daggers. He didn’t waste any time, kicking off the branch and leaping into the air. Within moments, he expertly landed on the branch of an adjacent tree without missing a step or making a sound.

  With stealth and silence, he hurdled from tree to tree. Each leap brought him closer to the mansion. It was pitch-black outside, but his hawk-like eyes made out every single detail and focused on the guards patrolling the grounds. They continued to radio back-and-forth. Ethan expected that by now they knew that half the guards were unresponsive.

  From his peripheral vision, he picked up two lone guards on the other side of the tree. He pulled out a silenced pistol while bouncing off the branch and onto the next tree. Without stopping, he leapt off the branch, right over guards. They didn’t even sense him. His body twisted in midair, his feet pointing skyward as his eyes looked down at the men below him. Without hesitation, Ethan pulled the trigger twice in quick succession. He landed on the next branch in time to see the two guards collapse.

  Ethan’s instincts alerted him to six more men between him and the mansion. He focused on their silhouettes. Being the last patrol, the rest of the guards were inside the compound. He took out his second pistol as he continued to soundlessly hop from one tree to the next. His movements were quick and lithe, his gaze set firmly on his foes. They would not see him coming, would not sense his presence.

  Within moments, he was above them. A gun in each gloved hand, he leapt off of the branch before landing softly on another. He crouched down, the darkness shrouding him. He watched the guards slowly approach his line of sight. He waited. Waited for the right moment. With perfect execution, he gracefully soared through the air before landing on the ground behind his targets and doing a quick frontal roll. Hearing his arrival, they immediately turned around, rifles raised and poised to attack.

  But they never had the chance. With meticulous precision, Ethan pulled the trigger and unleashed his fury.

  Chapter 2

  Peace Time

  Ethan’s brother, Jonathan, stood before the crowd of landed gentry as they broke into thunderous applause. Men in black suits and colorful ties along with women in beautiful evening gowns clapped as Jonathan Daniels’s speech ended. Smiling back at them, he stood behind the auburn podium with his large, strong hands holding either side of it. Wearing a tailored, Italian wool suit over his daunting figure, his short brown hair was perfectly cut and his fair-skinned face remained cleanly shaven.

  In the background, directly behind him, was a montage displaying many of the charity’s orphanages and shelters across the globe. It was filled with the faces of smiling children from all different races, religions, and nations. Alongside those pictures were numerous images of joyful mothers holding their children, women that would never have felt truly safe had it not been for the efforts of the charity’s women shelters.

  But front-and-center of the mosaic was the founder of the charities himself: Ethan Daniels. His green eyes stared directly at the viewers. His handsome face was perfectly shaven and his trimmed, black hair did not have a single strand out of place. The corners of his lips were curved in a radiant, fatherly smile. Ethan Daniels may have been a controversial figure in some places, but here in his native country, in Crown City, and in the many places that had felt the gentle hand of his philanthropy and charities, he was nothing but a hero.

  Bright spotlights hung from the grand hall’s high ceiling and aimed right at Jonathan. Two rows of thick, cylindrical columns were evenly spaced out from one side of the packed ballroom to the other. The room was beyond maximum capacity. It seemed like the nation’s bolstering economy made everybody even more willing to donate to orphanages and shelters.

  Adam stood near one wall. With a tablet in his hand, the dark-skinned man was dressed in the same manner as his boss, Jonathan. The strap of an auburn messenger bag was thrown over Adam’s shoulder. His own fitted suit showed the positive changes in his physique since last year. Over this past year, working and training with William had turned him into a soldier capable of holding his own in a fight.

  Moment after his speech ended, Jonathan was down from the stage. Surrounded by the top one percent of Crown City, he smiled and shook hands with each and every person he came across, taking a moment to converse with everyone. Many of the people here were regulars at donating to the charity since Ethan created it over four years ago. And ever since Ethan was ousted as The Guardian, the amount of people donating to Ethan Daniel’s charity had spiked.

  As a slideshow continued displaying some of the charity’s current and recent activities, Jonathan slowly cut through the sea of people in an attempt to get to Adam. It took him a few minutes to finally arrive.

  “Nice speech,” Adam commented.

  “How are the numbers looking so far?”

  Adam glanced back down at the tablet. “In the eight figures and that was before you finished talking.”

  “Good.”

  “I think this is our best turnout all year.”

  “It’ll only get better from here. Clean streets and no crime mean that people don’t have to watch their backs. And when they don’t have to watch their backs, they can watch the backs of others.”

  “Couldn’t have said it any better myself.”

  Jonathan slightly nodded. Discreetly glancing around the room, he ensured no one was list
ening before asking, “So where’s our mutual friend?”

  “Where he normally is. At the warehouse, monitoring radio chatters.”

  “How’ve the past few days been?”

  “Uneventful. I haven’t had to go out in the field since earlier this month when we stopped a shipment from coming in. And the last person William had to take down was Bernard Michaels.”

  “The serial killer?”

  Adam nodded. “He’s the only murderer we’ve had to hunt down all month.”

  “Good. Did you hear about this deal Villanueva agreed to sign with King Maximus?”

  “Yes. We’re keeping tabs on what’s going on in the capital. Normally Villanueva tells us before he does anything big. But this came out of left field. No one saw it coming.”

  “Neither did anybody in the business world. But it seems like an honest enough agreement. Nothing but good can come out of it.”

  “Maybe it is.” Adam paused. “But it all happened so quickly. Nobody even knew Villanueva was drafting a treaty with Maximus until two days ago when he came out and announced it. I don’t know how we could have missed it. Or, more importantly, I don’t know why Villanueva would not tell us.”

  “He has his reasons. I was told that when Maximus offered up the treaty, he gave Villanueva the deadline of a day or two to review it. He only consulted the joint chiefs and those who had to look over the treaty.”

  “Either way, he’s never kept us in the dark before. Ethan left us to watch over everything and Villanueva knows that.”

  “I’m sure William will figure it out quick enough.” Jonathan looked back at the crowd. “Any plans after this?”

  “William tipped off the police about a meeting between a few dealers. But he’ll need to keep an eye on everything to make sure that the sting operation goes smoothly.”

  “Good luck.” With those words, the two men went their separate ways.

  ***

  The man who was supposed to be dead looked through the sniper rifle’s scope. Laying on his belly, William Jones was dressed in The Guardian’s uniform—the same uniform that Ethan dawned years ago and still wore abroad.