by Ammar Habib
Still in shock over his death, there was not a person in the crowd who did not shed a tear. They could not believe how quickly everything had suddenly changed. They could not believe how quickly their friend left the land of the living to enter the afterlife. They could not believe that it was him in the casket that lay in the dark pit of dirt. William, the friend who always put others before himself, was gone.
Jonathan stood in front of the open grave. He stared down at the casket as his wife Cathy leaned on his shoulder, tears streaming down her cheeks. His heart gripped with tremendous pain. His eyes were full of tears and a few escaped to run down his cheek as he wondered why his friend’s life ended in such a way after everything he had done for the people, the city, and Ethan.
And where was Ethan?
Jonathan knew that Ethan was blaming himself over it, feeling shame and helplessness over his friend’s death. But there was no excuse for him not being at the funeral. William was like family. No, he was closer than family. Ethan should have come.
Slowly looking up, Jonathan caught glimpse of a distant figure standing on the other side of the gate at the top of a hill…
***
Ethan surveyed the people in attendance at the gravesite, his head feverish with an unquenchable, burning rage. His heart pounded fast, yet he stayed motionless and watched the remainder of the ceremony. He could feel everyone’s pain and sensed Jonathan’s gaze in the distance. The graveyard was distant, but his sharp eyes could pick out every single detail: the faces in the crowd, the inscription on the headstone, the book in the priest’s hands. Even from this hill, he felt the sorrow that consumed the ceremony.
With his hands dug deep into the pockets of his trench coat, he watched as William was laid to rest next to his wife. And watched as everyone paid their final respects.
Ethan wanted to be there to say goodbye and to tell everyone that William died protecting them. But he had not earned the right to be there—not yet—not before he found out who murdered his friend. And certainly not before he found all those responsible and butchered them.
Within moments, he was out of site. He had work to do.
***
President Gonzalez stood before numerous reporters. Countless cameras and video recorders were spread throughout the press room. With thick, bulletproof glass between the president and the media, Gonzalez looked on from behind the podium. They all waited to hear why he had called the press conference at this late hour.
Men in dark suits were spaced out everywhere and kept their eyes peeled on the reporters, making sure that no one was here with ill intentions. Even with the bulletproof glass, there was always a chance that something could go wrong.
Gonzalez looked down at his notes for a few moments before looking up at the anxious onlookers. Weariness covered his face and consumed his eyes. His once black hair was almost completely grey. Gonzalez had aged more in six months alone than any president in the history of the nation. “I’ve called this emergency conference to announce an important executive order.”
There was complete silence.
“After two years since Marshall Law was announced over Crown City, it has been decided that the military’s reign over the city will soon come to an end. As of today, I am effectively announcing emergency elections.”
Before the president could finish, there was uproar from the crowd. Hundreds of loud questions were shot his way, with every reporter attempting to talk over their neighbor.
Why was he doing this? Was it because of The Guardian? Was he resigning? Was this a symbolic surrender of the government?
The questions went unanswered. Gonzalez continued to speak, but nobody heard his words as they were drowned by the flood of questions. He impatiently waited a few long moments before finishing his announcement. “The leaders of the revolution must agree to these elections in order for Marshall Law to end. My spokesperson will give the details of these elections later today.”
Gonzalez took a step back from the podium as his chief-of-staff came rushing onto the stage. Bill loudly spoke over the reporters to reiterate Gonzalez’s last statement. “This afternoon, President Gonzalez’s spokesperson will explain the details of the emergency elections. We are not taking any questions right now.”
Within moments, Gonzalez exited the room through his private exit. He quickly walked down the hall, still hearing the calls of the reporters. Bill followed close behind him.
“Get me on a plane by tonight. I need to be out of the country,” Gonzalez ordered as he turned towards Bill.
Bill obediently nodded. “Where will you be going?”
“Zimba.”
“Has President Khan promised you sanctuary?”
“Yes. He owes me, after everything I’ve done for him.”
“I’ll alert secret service.”
“Don’t announce it until after I’m gone. I don’t want that freak to somehow take down the damn plane.”
They both knew who he meant without him saying the name. “After the announcement of your resignation and emergency elections, he’ll have no reason to come after you. He’ll have everything he demanded and you’ll be safe, sir. You won’t have anything to worry about.”
“Let’s hope so.”
***
The first thing Adam noticed when he walked out of his work place’s doors was how busy the streets were. Crowds of people consumed the sidewalks as they tried to get to their destinations before their lunch hour was up. Men and women. Young and old. Dressed up and dressed down. All types of individuals were in the ocean of people.
Fighting his way into the human river under the darkening skies, Adam left the high-rise building and walked towards the nearest street vendor. He looked at the road and saw that the traffic was backed up for several blocks. Horns were blaring and people were yelling from behind their lowered windows. For whatever reason, the military had decided to block off a road in order to search a building. Like always, they did not give any good reason.
Coming to the vendor’s stall, Adam broke off from the crowd and joined the other three customers at the stand. None of them paid any heed to him as they made their selection from the choices of premade sandwiches.
“Good to see you, Adam.” The large, middle-aged vendor immediately recognized his repeat customer and greeted him with a welcoming voice.
Adam warmly shook his hand. “Hey, Mike. Not the best day to be out, especially after those protests earlier.”
“Got to make a livin’.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
“Should I ring you up for the usual?”
“Why break from tradition…” Adam’s words trailed off as his attention was suddenly drawn to cover of the day’s newspaper: a close-up, full-color picture of The Guardian taking on a street gang in the middle of an empty parking lot. A bruised, but still relatively unharmed man and woman lay on the ground as their savior took on the gang of thugs single-handedly. He was a savior that was the most recognizable figure in not only Crown City and Tripton, but the world.
Adam stared at the picture in amazement. The photographer was no more than fifty yards away. The gang of six or seven men simultaneously attacked their foe. With switchblades and guns, they tried to kill the un-killable. But with nothing but a pair of daggers and sheer fury, he took them on without any fear. The photo was captured as The Guardian leapt at his foes as his cloak and hood flew behind him, revealing his red and black tactical suit and knife belts.
Mike watched as Adam picked up the newspaper and said, “Actually, ring me up for one of these as well.”
“Sure thing.”
One of the other customers saw the way Adam was gaping at the photograph and rolled his eyes. “You really believe in that freak?”
Adam turned. “You don’t?”
“He causes more trouble that he solves.”
“Trouble?”
“Because of him, this Marshal Law happened in the first place. Because of him the government is putting mo
re pressure on us ‘common folk.’”
“Are you serious? Because of him we have a chance at fixing our country. He’s trying to fix all the screw ups and mistakes we let happen.”
“He just wants to fill his own pockets…just like everyone else.”
“You’re wrong. He’s the one who’s saving us.”
“Really? What has he done for people like me, huh? How has he made my life any better?”
“By allowing you to say stupid things like that without being thrown in jail. If you had tried to say things like this about the government even a year ago, what would have happened to you? Or have you so quickly forgotten how bad things really were before he came around.”
Another customer joined the conversation as he motioned toward Adam. “This gentleman is right. The Guardian brought us out of the hell that we were living in. Because of him, we are becoming a beacon of hope for the rest of the world. Didn’t you hear about Gonzalez’s resignation this morning? Who do you think is the cause of that?”
The first man rolled his eyes once more. “It’s all politics. A year from now things will go back to how they were.” With those words, he turned and left.
Adam smiled and nodded at the second man, and the gesture was returned as Mike spoke. “Some people just don’t get it. They’re too ticked-off at everything to see something good even when it hits them in the face.”
Adam nodded. “You said it, brotha. Keep the change.”
Mike smiled. “Thanks. What do you make of the announcement this morning?”
“It’s a leap in the right direction. I think it was inevitable after the message that The Guardian broadcasted to the president. I’m sure Gonzalez took that death threat very seriously.”
“Can’t argue with you on that one.”
***
The nightmare ended. With a sudden start, Ethan woke up to his eerily quiet warehouse. He was covered in his own sweat, as he always was after one of these nightmares. His fast-beating heart was uncontrollable. His body shivered to no end. Quick and rapid breaths escaped him as his eyes frantically looked around at his surroundings and he tried to regain control of his body.
He glanced down and saw that he was up against his desk. His chair had flipped over and skidded a few feet back. He looked up and saw a dim reflection of himself in the glass window. Gazing upon his terror-stricken appearance, he slowly wiped his hand over his face in an attempt to calm himself down.
It was becoming worse each day. At first the visions were few and far between. But now almost every time he closed his eyes, Daken would haunt him. And each time the beast’s appearance became more menacing. His voice was wickeder and the visions were even more sadistic and longer than the last.
Sleep had become a foreign thing for Ethan. He could hardly get an hour of it each day. Daken would not let him rest. He would not let him have any amount of peace or concentrate on anything else.
Ethan shook his head, trying to get the beast’s image out of his mind. Closing his eyes, he meditated on the one face that could bring him peace. The one image that could take all of his fear away. After several moments, he stopped rose to his feet. His heart rate dropped closer and closer to normal with each passing second and his breathing followed suit. Feeling his senses come back to normal, Ethan opened his eyes and wiped his face one more time.
With a quick movement, he switched on his recorder. Ethan listened as the voice of President Gonzalez came on as he spoke to his chief-of-staff about his travel plans.
Almost fifteen minutes passed as Ethan patiently listened to the conversation. Gonzalez thought he could escape the country unnoticed? He should have known better by now. Nothing went unnoticed.
He looked down at one of the papers on his desk. It was a file on a man named Norris. More accurately, it was a file on a criminal named Norris. Years ago, Norris was sent to prison for numerous sadistic crimes, but he was released three years ago after cutting a deal with the police. Ethan had recently discovered that Norris was in league with William’s killers, providing them with shelter. Ethan would show Norris just why that was a grave mistake.
Ethan needed to find him, and to do that, he knew where he had to go: Old Town. It was a place where Norris’s “watchdog” frequently visited.
Shutting off the recording, Ethan went into the main part of the warehouse. Like always, the large chamber was illuminated by a few lamps. Everything was still as it was the day William died. The empty crates still rested in a corner. The medical supplies were where they always were. The weapons were spread out and mounted on one wall. The board still stoically stood covered in crossed out faces. The clear showcases still displayed Ethan’s uniform. The training equipment was still there. The long wooden poles were still nailed to the ground a few meters away from the perched, automated guns.
Coming to a large black crate, Ethan looked into it. It was filled with numerous throwing knives in two different compartments. All the projectiles were neatly organized and stood upright. There were a total of twenty knives in the crate.
But these were not the average blades. After all, what better way to take revenge on the thugs that killed William than using the special weapons William designed for Ethan before his death. Ethan would unleash these new weapons, showing these killers just how much more deadly he could be.
He turned away from the crate and walked over to the clear displays. He moved all his thoughts to the back of his mind. Waiting on the other side was the last thing countless others had seen before their death.
Ethan took a deep breath. It was time to do what he did best.
***
Norris’s companion never stood a chance. Before Hugo realized what was happening, The Guardian was on him.
With a mighty kick, The Guardian sent Hugo sprawling down the alley. The gaunt man landed roughly on his side, wheezing for air as he lay on the broken pavement of the deserted backstreet. The Guardian grabbed him by his collar and roughly yanked him back to his feet. Not giving Hugo a chance to say or do anything, The Guardian pulled his fist back before smashing his knuckles into Hugo’s face. Hugo’s head sharply turned to one side as he spit out blood.
Still holding him by the collar, The Guardian dragged Hugo across the alley and slammed his back into the brick wall. The thud of his body slamming into the barrier sounded through the alley.
The Guardian leaned his face in close enough for Hugo to smell his breath. “I asked you a question. Where’s your friend?”
Hugo did not answer. Blood dripped out of his mouth as he took a few deep breaths, trying to regain his senses.
Not wasting any time, The Guardian reached for his long, sharpened dagger from underneath his cloak. “Your boss has finally crawled out of his sewer. Him and his rats are trying to make their mark.” The tip of the dagger edged closer to Hugo’s skin. “But all he will find is death.”
Hugo’s eyes went from the dagger to his captor’s unforgiving face.
“And you’re going to help me give it to him.”
“I—I won’t betray him.”
“Oh…yes…you…will. The only question is, how painful do you want to make it?” The Guardian plunged the dagger into Hugo’s thigh.
Hugo tried to yell, but The Guardian’s gloved hand covered his mouth. Slowly, The Guardian pushed more and more of the dagger into Hugo’s thigh. Hugo’s body squirmed in agony, his eyes terrifyingly widening with the unrelenting pain.
“You will die here, Hugo. That I can promise you. But you have a choice. You will either die a quick death. Or I will have you begging for death by the time it comes.” The Guardian leaned in a little closer. “Either way, I will make sure that you tell me what I need to know.”
The tip of the bloody dagger came out the other end of Hugo’s thigh. It was completely covered in blood. Hugo’s blood.
“So what’s it gonna be?”
Hugo helplessly looked at The Guardian, his face and hair drenched with nervous sweat, as his blood continued to seep out of
the wound. He knew there was no escape from this.
“Norris…he’s at the old Johnson steel mill. At least, he will be there tomorrow night,” Hugo gasped in a panicked breath.
“You better not be screwing with me.”
“I—I’m not. I swear.”
The Guardian was silent.
“He’s…he’s gone mad.”
“He’s always been mad.”
“Not like this. He’s going to abduct a number of victims tonight.”
“To kill them?”
Hugo slowly shook his head, yes. “To celebrate.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s celebrating a new deal he just made—to get drugs in the city. He won’t harm any of them until…until tomorrow night; at least that’s what I overheard. He’s gonna make them fight to the death. The survivor will be forced to join the gang. With the losers he’ll—”
“He’ll do what dogs like him do…what dogs like you do!”
Hugo helplessly stared at his captor.
The grip around The Guardian’s dagger tightened. “You already know what happens next.”
Chapter 15
True Allegiances
Jonathan quickly made his way down the office halls. The afternoon meeting had gone much better than expected. Even with this so-called Marshall Law, business was going better than anyone had expected when this whole revolution began. But then again, this “Marshall Law” was not much of a Marshall Law. The military never bothered carrying out half the orders or duties barked at them and they only followed parts of the rest. They were too fearful of Crown City’s watchful protector, too fearful of what might happen to them if they did follow orders.
And because of their fears, businesses like the law firm were not negatively affected. In fact, the business grew as more and more people received the willingness to pursue justice against those who exploited them for years.
Now, the oppressive reign seemed to be coming to an end. After Gonzalez’s resignation, it was only a matter of time before everything went back to the way it was, the way it should have always been.