Dark Guardian

by Ammar Habib

  “You need to publish it in your next article.”

  Silently, William looked back down at the memory card that rested on his open palm.

  “If you’re not willing to do it, I’ll find somebody else who is.”

  William’s gaze went back to the hooded man. “Why is this important?”

  “I want him to know that he’s my target. I want him to have nightmares of the day I find him. I want him to feel the fear of a hunted animal.”

  “Even if I wanted to I couldn’t. It’s my editor’s choice as to what gets published.”

  “He won’t be a problem.”

  William raised his eyebrows. “What are you going to do, scare him?”

  “I already did.”

  William slightly shook his head. He couldn’t believe he was face-to-face with this maniac. “If I do this, then I’ll be on the hit list of the cartel and the police.”

  “I’ll take care of anyone who tries to get near you.”

  “…You’ll kill them too?”

  The masked man did not reply.

  “And if I do this, what will I get in return?”

  “I’ll find out who killed your wife.”

  William blankly stared at the masked figure. “Th-that’s impossible. I’ve already explored every avenue. I followed every lead. I hired a private investigator. And we couldn’t even get close to finding out who did it.”

  “I can find out. Do we have a deal?”

  William looked away for several seconds. “I…I need your word that you’ll keep me safe. They’ll come after me for sure.”

  “You have my word.”

  William knew that there was no turning back after he made this decision. “I’ll do it.”

  Without any thanks, the masked figure turned around as if he was preparing to walk into the shadows and disappear. “How will we keep in touch?”

  “I’ll keep an eye on you.”

  Chapter 13

  Vengeance

  The sun descended through the cloudless sky. Within a couple of hours it would be well over the horizon, allowing darkness to consume the jungle. It was hot and humid following the gentle, morning rains that had come through. The leaves were still moist from the showers and the grass was wet and slick. Many of the animals were still hiding in their domains, not sure if they should come out yet.

  But the humidity did not bother the gang in the slightest. The eight young men slowly made their way to the center of the open area in the jungle, trudging through the wet and damp grass.

  Baatu carried two unopened glass bottles as he finally stopped moving. His throat was dry now and was begging for a taste of the liquid that he held in his hands. His subordinates followed suit as he turned around. Letting one bottle go, he let it fall onto the patch of grass as he quickly took the top off of the other bottle. With a smile he raised the bottle towards his gang. “What do we drink to today, gentlemen?”

  The other men raised their bottles towards him as one of them responded. “To life.”

  Baatu nodded in the thug’s direction. “To life.” He put the bottle to his lips, but before he could taste the liquid, a cold voice came from behind the crowd, momentarily freezing all of them.

  “Or to death.”

  The gang looked in the direction of the voice and watched as a lone figure appeared out of the trees. He wore a pair of ragged jeans and a long, grey cloak. He was nearly bald, but had spots of hair spurting from his white scalp. It took Baatu a few moments, but he soon recognized the intruder. The only problem was that the man should have been dead.

  The gang leader could see that behind that expressionless face of the intruder was an ocean of anger and hate. A sinister smile came over Baatu’s face as he realized that Ethan was alone. Baatu looked over his gang as he let out a snicker before looking back at Ethan. “Well, look-ie here boys. It looks like we have a lost bird. A bird that never learned to fly.”

  The gang snickered as they all slowly began to move towards the incoming intruder.

  Baatu flipped his bottle upside until all of the liquid had been poured out. “This time, I’ll make sure you’re dead.”

  Ethan’s face remained stoic. With both hands, he reached for his belt that hid under his dirty cloak. He looked over as the thug sadistically spoke with a cocky smile stretching across his face.

  “Is this the part where you beg for mercy?”

  Ethan replied in a cold, unforgiving voice. “No. This is the part where you die.”

  Suddenly, Ethan launched four small knives into the air from under his cloak. They cut through the air faster than bullets, faster than the eye could see, and impaled themselves into the throats of the closest thugs. As the four gangsters fell dead onto the muddy grass, the remaining ruffians stared wide-eyed at the dead bodies. Before they had a chance to react, three more blades travelled through the air with lightning speed and the three remaining henchman died within seconds.

  Within moments, Baatu was friendless.

  The blood of his dead comrades poured out of their wounds and painted the jungle floor red. He stared at the dead bodies in disbelief, unable to do anything except look at his fallen comrades.

  Ethan looked up at Baatu just as the coward turned to run. Before he had even taken two steps in his retreat, a knife impaled his ankle, causing him to fall face first into the grass. He let out a groan as he rolled onto his side, just in time to see Ethan standing over him. Spots of mud clung to the gangster’s face. With a hard, swift kick to the stomach, Ethan knocked Baatu onto his back and stood over him.

  Baatu looked up at his attacker as he let out a pain filled groan. His eyes were filled with fear, and his body trembled. A stream of blood was coming out of his injured ankle.

  In his hand, Ethan held another knife. “Do you recognize this?”

  Baatu was silent.

  Ethan crouched down lower as he growled. “It’s the same weapon you slaughtered my Naira with. You butchered her with it.”

  His hand came around Baatu’s throat, crushing his air passages. Baatu desperately struggled for air. His vision began to blur as his assailant squeezed harder. This would be the end. He knew it. He could feel his face start to become discolored as his brain begged for oxygen.

  But right before he passed out, Ethan let go, allowing him to gasp for several seconds. Ethan put the razor tip of the knife against Baatu’s chest, causing him to shudder. A malicious grin came across Ethan’s face. “You see, I’m in a little bit of a dilemma.”

  The captive’s gaze went from the knife to Ethan’s malevolent eyes.

  “I’ve slain plenty of low life dogs over the past few years. But I’ve never had to kill a pig…and honestly I’m not sure where to start.” The smirk had left his face. Suddenly, he reached down and grabbed Baatu by his long hair and shook his head, causing the captive to let out a short scream as Ethan growled. “Should I start off by plucking its eyes out? Should I slice off its ear? Should I carve up the face? Should I just slowly slice it up and let it bleed to death?”

  Tears began to stream down Baatu’s face as he begged for mercy. Images of his coming torture flooded his mind and each one made him more nauseous more than the last one. Baatu could do nothing but trembling at every word that his captor spoke.

  With a snicker, he suddenly let go of his prisoner’s hair and roughly shoved his head against the ground. Ethan stood up and looked towards the sky. “It’s nearly sunset now. I’ll make sure that you last all night.” He looked back down. “I’ll let your dear mommy and daddy find your body; your dismembered, mutilated body…just like they found Naira’s. But by the time they find it, the vultures will have had their go at you.”

  Baatu finally gained the courage to speak. “Y—you’re a mon—”

  Suddenly, Ethan’s face was only inches from Baatu’s. His free hand was wrapped around his captive’s throat as it squeezed hard. Ethan let out a low growl. “You don’t know anything about monsters yet…but you will before the night is over.”r />
  ***

  The Tuesday night shift had been murder. Worse than usual at least. Working at the docks never exactly was Brett’s dream job. The only time he ever enjoyed working was when he used to manage the chemical plants. But ever since his wife died, he hadn’t been able to hold a steady job.

  Now Brett found himself sitting on his usual stool right in front of the bar, wearing his dirty jeans and an old tucked in blue shirt. Surrounding him was the usual dingy bar scene he had grown too accustomed to over the years. Brown walls, floor, and ceiling. It was all so dull. The distinct odor of smoke filled the room.

  There were countless circular tables spread out throughout the empty floor of the saloon. Most were occupied by two or three people at most, but some were vacant. Most of the patrons were middle-aged and had been coming here for a long time. His back faced most of the bar’s patrons, but he could perfectly picture what was happening.

  Brett leaned his elbows against the counter in front of him with his shoulders slouched. Nobody here ever talked to him, not even the bartender. They all knew he was not the talking type. They always wordlessly just put his usual drink out in front of him.

  He looked up at the half empty, brown bottle of beer. It was his only friend in the room. Looking at the blue label for a few seconds, Brett reached out and put his hand around the bottle, preparing to lift it up. Just as he did, he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, causing him to slowly turn his head around and come face-to-face with his son. Brett blinked several times. “Jonathan? What are you doing here?”

  Jonathan took a seat on the stool next to his father. “Looking for you.”

  Brett looked back at his drink. “Well…you knew where to find me.”

  Jonathan looked around the bar. “This was the first place I looked after you didn’t answer your phone.”

  Brett took a quick swig of his drink as the young bartender walked over to Jonathan. “Can I get you anything?”

  The father answered for his son. “He doesn’t drink.”

  The bartender nodded and left the two alone.

  With his back to the counter, Jonathan looked over at his father. “You okay? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

  Brett shrugged, not looking back at his son. “Can’t complain.”

  “You seen Ethan lately?”

  Pausing for a second, Bret shook his head. He didn’t want to admit the fact that he had stood outside of Ethan’s building for nearly an hour.

  But Jonathan fell for the lie and continued, “I went by his place Sunday.”

  Brett was about to take another sip of his drink, but put it down. “…And? How is he?”

  “Not well. He tried to hide it, but even a blind man could see it. He’s a mess right now.”

  Finally, Brett turned and looked at his son. “What do you mean?”

  “He’s not in good shape at all. Marion’s worried about him. She used to work in a mental institution, you know. Said he was reminding her of some of the inmates she used to be around. Actually…she said he reminded her of a lot of the inmates.”

  Brett pushed his bottle along the surface of the counter.

  “She says he’s constantly worn out. Keeps to himself. Barely ever eats. Every time she tries to figure out what’s wrong he threatens to fire her. He just sits in one place for hours and hours on end. At first she thought he was into something he shouldn’t be, but now she’s not sure what to think. Every night he goes out and doesn’t come back to the next day. And whenever he comes back, his clothes stink. She wants to get a psychiatrist to take a look at him, but she’s too afraid of how Ethan might react. She called me again this morning. She says every day it’s getting worse. She’s afraid he’ll come to a breaking point.”

  “And what do you think?”

  “He’s trying to push me away. I don’t know why. He wants us to be distant. He doesn’t want to let me in.” Jonathan let out a chuckle with a slight smile. “He tried to insult me. I have to admit, he’s gotten better at that. Had me pretty upset for a while.”

  There was a long pause and Brett noticed the smile disappear from his son’s face.

  “But you can see it in his eyes. It’s hard to explain, but…but it seems like he’s slowly dying inside. Like he’s slowly fading away. Like something is eating him from the inside out.” He looked back at his dad. “Maybe I’m just seeing things. But the fact that Marion is worried means something.”

  The hurt in Brett’s eyes after hearing this was obvious. Brett looked over beyond the counter for a few long moments before looking back at his son. “And what do you think he needs, Jonathan?”

  “Right now, I think he needs one thing more than anything.” Jonathan came to his feet as he laid his strong hand on Brett’s shoulder once more. “A father.”

  Brett looked away as Jonathan pulled his hand back.

  “Just something for you to think about.”

  With those words, Jonathan walked away and out of the doors of the saloon. Right as the door slammed shut, Brett swung his head around and looked at the closed door. After several moments, he looked back at his nearly empty bottle.

  The bartender saw the bottle and pulled a fresh one out from under the counter, knowing that Brett always drank more than one. She set it in front of him, but he held out his hand as he rose to his feet.

  “I’m done for today.” He set some money on the table. “Keep the change.”

  With those words, Brett turned and walked away from a drink for the first time in a long time.

  ***

  All of the tall lamps had been lit and their light filled the warehouse. Behind Ethan and to his left the tall poles still stood erect. Only a few minutes ago Ethan had been leaping between them. A few meters behind them the punching bag still dangled on its rusty chain. To his far right, the pink, unwashed dress Naira died in was pinned against the doorway to the office.

  And in front of him was a closed dresser sitting right under the boarded up window. Behind the closed doors was his suit, the same one that had been many men’s last sight before they died. Next to the dresser was a large chest that was full of knives of different sizes. And to the left of the dresser was another good-sized trunk full of medical equipment. A few meters behind Ethan was a white medical table. Standing over another table that was positioned between him and the dresser, Ethan looked down at the contents that rested on top of it.

  He had put together four more belts: two short and two long. The smaller two would go around each of his forearms and the other longer two would wrap around each of his thighs. Attached to the short belts were five knife sheathes that housed small throwing blade. Strapped to the longer belts were ten sheaths, each holding a knife.

  Ethan picked a knife up off of the table by its hilt. Turning around, he looked at a billboard he had put up against one of the walls. There were several pictures of faces that had been tacked onto it. The deceased persons had an X across their face, the most recent being Jacob Potts. But Ethan ignored it as he stared at the face of Peter Jennings for several seconds.

  Suddenly, with the flick of his wrist, the knife left his hand and sliced through the air. It planted itself into the forehead of Peter. With a sly smile, Ethan looked away from the billboard. Everything was ready. He was ready. In only a few hours, Ethan would be one step closer to getting revenge. Soon, Naira would be able to rest in peace. No matter how many thugs Peter had, Ethan would come out on top.

  He always did.

  Chapter 14

  War

  It was a cloudless, Wednesday night. Stars had just begun to appear over Crown City and the moon gleamed over the metropolis. The air was still and the streets in this part of town were nearly deserted. The only people outside of the Blue Beetle Club were lowlifes who were either heading into one of the various clubs or up to no good.

  In the back alley of the Blue Beetle Club, two women backed up against a wall as two men advanced towards them. The alley was almost completely encompassed by darkness. The onl
y lighting was a flickering light above the back door of the building. In each of the men’s hands was a switchblade and worn on their faces were sinister smiles. Terror captivated the eyes of their victims to-be. One of the men was holding the women’s purses in his free hand. A woman spoke to their approaching attackers. “We gave you what you want. Let us go.”

  The head man snickered. “Sorry. We’re in a hurting mood tonight.”

  From above them, a cold voice came. “So am I.”

  Before they even had a chance to look up, both thugs fell dead to the floor, with knives imbedded in the tops of their skulls. Landing crouched down a few feet in front of the corpses was the hooded killer. He heard one of the women let out a yelp upon seeing the dead bodies and her savior. For several seconds, the masked man looked at the ground as blood rushed out of the corpses’ skulls and began to form a puddle around the carcasses.

  The hooded figure finally looked up at the women. “Get off the streets. You don’t want to be out tonight.”

  Quickly, the two women ran past him as one of them picked up the fallen purses. Ethan rose to his feet and looked up towards the night sky. Hearing one of the ladies speak, he turned his head to look her way. “What’s going to happen?”

  “War.”

  Catching his response, the two women dashed out of the alley. Once the echo of their footsteps had faded, Ethan looked up at the back wall of the club. He had seen several parked police vehicles on the road. They were definitely keeping this place under surveillance.

  Ethan ran towards the wall and took a giant leap. As his gloved fingers came in contact with the wall, he expertly scaled the building, heading towards the flat rooftop. Within a matter of seconds, he had made it to the ledge with ease and quickly leapt onto the top of the building.

  That was easier than he expected.

  Remaining crouched, Ethan immediately looked at the surrounding rooftops, making sure that there were not any snipers waiting for him. Seeing that he was in the clear, he rose to his feet and fixed his hood. Ethan began to slowly make his way to the part of the roof that was a glass window looking down into the interior of the club.