Dark Guardian

by Ammar Habib

  Finally, Jutu spoke. “Where’s my wife?”

  “Awaiting you in Hell…just like your son.”

  Jutu did not reply as anger consumed his heart and eyes.

  “I know that you found your brat’s corpse.” Ethan slightly smiled. “Did you like my work?”

  “You son of a―!”

  “That’s not the smartest thing to say to the person who’s holding your life in their hands, now is it?”

  Jutu’s body shook with rage, but he knew that he was powerless to do anything. A few moments of silence passed as Ethan’s smirking face looked down upon his prey. Jutu’s eyes were full of anger. He wanted nothing more than to strangle the heartless man in front of him. Kill him like he had killed his wife and son. But he was powerless to do so. “You animal!”

  “Oh, I’m not the animal. I’m just the dog catcher.” Ethan’s smile disappeared. “And you’re the last dog in town.”

  “Why did you kill them? What did they ever to do you?”

  “Do you remember the body of the young girl? The one they found a few weeks ago?”

  After a long moment, Jutu shook his head.

  “I wouldn’t expect you to. After all, it’s probably not the first person your idiotic son killed while drunk. And not the first time you and your wife covered up the crime.”

  A long silence consumed the room.

  Ethan’s body shook with rage as the image of Naira’s corpse came to his mind. His voice suddenly spiked. “She was an innocent child! And you left her body to rot!”

  Ethan’s words seemed to have no effect on Jutu.

  Jutu finally gained the courage to speak again. “And now you think going after everyone you deem responsible for her death will bring you peace?”

  “I know it will.”

  Jutu knew there was no way out. He was not going to be able to talk his way out of this. He took a deep breath. A cruel smile came onto his face as he spoke. He would not go down begging for his life. “Go on then. Pull the trigger. At least I’ll have the knowledge that my son gave that girl a slow and painful death…just like I taught him to.”

  With a roar, Ethan pulled the trigger. A bullet went straight through Jutu’s calf as blood splattered out of the wound. As he screamed in pain, Ethan’s snarled. Suddenly, he was upon Jutu. His fist smashed against the older man’s skull several times and each blow sent a loud echo through the room.

  With each hit, Jutu spat out more and more blood.

  “You’re not getting off that easy!” Again, Ethan’s fist smashed against Jutu’s skull before he came back to his feet. His gun was again pointed at the older man. “Tell me where Anthony Griffin is! Where does he live!?”

  Jutu could not think straight for several moments. He looked around the room with his blurred vision. Finally, it returned to normal and he looked back at his attacker. “…G—Griffin? Why…why do you want him?”

  “He’s the one who let the dog off of the chain.”

  Jutu shook his head. “Even you can’t get to him. It’s impossible.”

  “I’ve done the impossible.”

  Jutu took several breaths. He could feel blood pouring out of his wounds. “Kill me if you want. I’ll never tell. I have nothing left to lose…at least I’ll go to the grave knowing that you’ll be joining me in Hell soon enough. Maybe I’ll find your little bitch there as well.”

  Ethan pulled the trigger once more. This time, the bullet went straight through Jutu’s shoulder. As the thick, red liquid splashed everywhere, Jutu let out another scream of agony. He called out his wife’s name.

  The trigger was pulled again and the next bullet tore a hole straight through Jutu’s opposite hand. The wounded man’s howl consumed the room, growing louder with each wound. After several moments, it nearly subsided. Their eyes locked as Jutu’s eyes filled up with anger. He saw a sly smile come onto Ethan’s face.

  “He’s in Crown City, isn’t he?”

  There was no reply.

  “Your eyes told me what I need to know.”

  ***

  Ethan was not sure how long he had been lying awake. It may have been hours. Even through the boarded window, some streams of sunlight spilled through and entered into the warehouse. It was way past noon by now.

  But he did not feel like getting up. His entire body was sore. Pain completely consumed him. Lying on his back atop the medical table, he closed his eyes. He was almost completely naked.

  The thin sheet that covered the top of the table was covered in blood. Ethan had not been worried about cleanliness when he had stitched himself up last night. All he had been concerned about was making sure he didn’t pass out without closing the wounds. Thanks to Daken, his body was almost completely immune to infections or sickness, so he did not have to worry about that. And his body healed almost three times as fast as a normal, healthy person.

  He reached over onto the small table next to him and grabbed hold of the large jug of water. It was nearly empty now. Still lying down, he finished up whatever liquid was left before tossing the jug to the ground. He heard its echo reverberate through the room for several seconds before dying out. He was still parched even after drinking all of that. Too bad this place did not have an A/C or electricity. Everything had to be powered by batteries.

  Last night had been too close for comfort. He couldn’t allow himself to underestimate the enemy. If any one of those bullets had been a few inches off from where they had hit him, he would not have even made it back to the warehouse.

  Against his body’s wishes, he suddenly swung his feet over the side of the bed and swiftly sat up. His entire body rang with pain as he did so, but he did his best to ignore it. He opened his eyes and looked down at his well-built, muscular body. Although it wasn’t his best work, the stitching had been done well considering the situation.

  Gradually, he came to his feet as he let out a loud groan. Ethan paused for a minute, making sure his feet did not give in under his weight. Slowly he began to walk to a table a few meters away. Atop of the table sat a brown radio and his cell phone. Coming to the table he leaned on it as another grunt escaped him. His body trembled as it begged him to lie back down and he was seriously starting to consider it.

  He quickly switched on the radio as he picked up his phone. A low-volume news report immediately followed and he heard the voice of the fast talking anchorman project out of the device:

  “After last night’s deadly attack at the Blue Beetle Club, the total number of deceased has been confirmed at seventeen. Of those, three were police officers. This morning in a press conference, Mayor Chavez and Police Chief Dawson assured the citizens of Crown City that every available asset is being used to hunt down the masked killer. The search around the Blue Beetle Club is still in progress. However, no evidence to his whereabouts has been found as of this morning. The killer has been named as Crown City’s most wanted and aiding him is a federal crime. A shoot-on-sight order has been issued. The police believe him to be responsible for the death of two other officers over the last week as well as the death of several other civilians. However, some regard him as a hero as one woman claims to have been saved by―”

  Ethan switched off the device.

  It was just as he expected. The police were predictable and so was the media. He wondered if William had kept up his end of the bargain. Ethan was sure that he wanted to discover the identity of his wife’s killer. As he turned his head from side to side, he felt a sudden, sharp pain. He stretched out his shoulders and extended out his arms over the top of his head. That definitely felt good.

  Ethan looked over to his fallen costume. The bloodstained and ripped garb was on the floor a few feet away. He would come back tonight to give it a good rinse and patch it up. He began to make his way to pick it up off of the hard floor. Too bad it did not offer any protection other than keeping him warm. He needed to clean off his equipment as well. His dagger was covered in the blood of several different people.

  Looking at his phone, he
saw that he had almost fifty missed calls. Forty-seven of those were from Charles and Marion. That woman just couldn’t seem to get the point through her thick skull.

  He knew why Charles had called. Ethan had blown off David’s auction and his chance to meet the important citizens of the nation. He had not counted on getting shot and nearly bleeding to death. Charles was probably completely embarrassed and looked like a fool at the auction. He could only imagine Charles’s fury.

  Two of the other calls had been from Cathy. Ethan wondered why she had bothered to call. Jonathan had been pretty straightforward when he had told Ethan to go to hell. Maybe she still thought she could bring the family together. If only she knew.

  The last call had been from Katrina.

  The pain momentarily disappeared upon seeing this. She had left him a text and he immediately pulled it up. The phone could not move fast enough for him as he excitedly tapped his foot on the ground. His eyes widened as he read it.

  She had asked him to go on a picnic with her Saturday. His heart leapt out of his chest as he read this. Even if he had plans, he would have cancelled them for this without a second thought.

  Suddenly, he stopped himself. This wasn’t right. He could not keep doing this to himself. To her. It would not end well for either of them. He could not let himself torture her heart just so he could have momentary happiness.

  In the end, he would leave her heartbroken one way or another.

  Chapter 16

  Repercussions

  Police Chief Richard Dawson came to his feet, greeting the man who entered his office. The tall and well-built Hispanic man wore a long, black trench coat that was unbuttoned, revealing a pair of recently pressed black slacks and a buttoned up white shirt. Without even looking up at the police chief, Anthony’s lieutenant closed the door behind him. He wordlessly took off his coat and placed it on the coat hanger next to the entrance before turning to face the chief.

  Richard kept his composure, but he was trembling inside. He had expected a call from Anthony this morning, but the fact that he had instead sent his favorite henchman to Richard’s office was not good news. Anthony’s lieutenant paused at the closed doorway and looked around the office. His eyes went over the cabinet files, framed pictures, and awards hanging on the wall before they stopped on Richard. He slowly came over to the chief’s desk. Richard blankly stared at the big and strong figure standing in front of him, not sure why he was here.

  Finally, the intruder spoke. “Sit down.”

  Wordlessly, the police chief took his seat. He did not let his anxiety show. “Why are you here?”

  The man reached into his pocket and Richard half-expected him to pull out a gun. “Mr. Griffin wants to talk.”

  To Richard’s relief, the lieutenant pulled out a crimson flip phone and opened it up.

  “He’s lost faith in you. He was not sure if any line you have would be secure.”

  “Because of last night?”

  “No. He expected you to fail in protecting Peter.”

  Richard was a little shocked at hearing that but did not show it. “Then why?”

  “Didn’t you read the paper?” The henchman began to punch in some numbers.

  The police chief’s gaze fell onto the fresh and unopened newspaper that sat at the corner of his desk. He had been too busy to even bother reading it yet. He reached over and picked it up.

  “Page 10.”

  Of course, the first nine pages were all about the attack last night. There were numerous pictures of the outside scene of the club as well as many images of the inside of the building. Richard was not sure how any reporter would have managed to get a picture of that since there had been such tight security, but they always seemed to find a way.

  On page four and five there were two articles about how two women had claimed to have been saved by the masked man. They were calling him a guardian and angel. Richard was pretty sure that no angel went around wearing a mask and killing people left and right with knives. Of course, both women remained anonymous.

  He turned to page 10 and saw a half page article at the top. His eyes widened as he read what had been published. A cold chill ran up his spine as he could only imagine Anthony’s reaction upon seeing this.

  Front and center on the page was a picture of Anthony Griffin.

  It was obvious that this picture was taken years ago when Anthony was still in Bafra. The image had been captured while he had been going down a busy street, but it was focused in on his face, so it was impossible to tell which street exactly. His clean, combed over dark brown hair sat perfectly on his head, while it was evident that his fair-skinned face had just been cleanly shaven a few hours before. His strong jaw showed his impressive strength and just looking into his deep, brown eyes could send fear into the heart of any man.

  Richard looked at the title of the article: “The Man Who Runs Our Country”. He quickly skimmed over the article. As he did, his hands started to sweat. How could somebody have gotten this picture?

  The reporter was making allegations that Anthony was in fact running not only the police and the city’s bureaucracy, but also the national government. He claimed that the president was in his back pocket and would do anything that the crime lord ordered him to do. The reporter failed to provide any evidence, but Richard knew people would start to launch their own investigations after reading this and seeing the picture.

  Richard searched the page, but could not see name of the reporter anywhere.

  He slowly set the paper back on the floor just as the lieutenant placed the phone on the desk and slid it towards him. It was on speaker and Richard knew who would be on the other end. He controlled his shakiness as he heard the voice of the one man he feared. “You want to explain how this happened?”

  “…I wasn’t aware of it until just now.”

  “You were supposed to have this under control. I put the media in your back pocket. I thought you could handle keeping them pressed down under your boot.”

  “We have. This is the first time in the past four years something like this has happened.”

  “Then apparently you’ve stopped pressing hard on them.”

  “Crown City Times is the only newspaper that’s ever given us problems, but nothing like this. The others have never stepped out of line.”

  “You’ve been too lenient.”

  Richard was almost too scared to ask the next question, already knowing what the answer would be. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Shut them down. If I’m not mistaken, freedom of the press does not exist anymore. It hasn’t for the past four years. Find out who did this.”

  Richard put both palms on the table and leaned against it. “Won’t shutting down the paper just verify everything the reporter said?”

  “It doesn’t matter. We need to do damage control now. With everyone talking about last night’s attack, only a small minority would have paid attention to it. And an even smaller number will remember it after a week has passed.”

  “Alright. How long do I stop their presses?”

  “Until the editor gives up the name of the reporter.”

  Richard looked up at the stoic face of the lieutenant and then back down. “And then?”

  “Then…then the reporter commits a murder suicide after killing his editor.”

  The police chief already knew that Anthony was going to say that. “How should we go about doing that?”

  “You will take the editor and reporter into custody for publishing false accusations that risk causing mass panic. After they pay their bail and are let out, the editor pays a visit to the reporter at his house. After a heated argument, the reporter kills his boss and shoots himself. Maybe he sets the house on fire. That’s always convenient. Use your imagination, Richard. This is not your first time doing something like this.”

  “Does the mayor know?”

  “Along with the president. They agree with my decision.”

  No surprise. Richard removed his palm
s from the desk and stood up straight. “And what about this killer we have on the loose? Do you think he gave the reporter the picture? It can’t be coincidental.”

  “He gave the reporter the picture to send a message. He’s after me.”

  Richard’s eyes widened. He did not reply for a long time as he was shocked from the statement. He looked up at the lieutenant once more, but was again met with his emotionless face. “I have every available asset on the case.”

  “And how do you plan on tracking him down?”

  “Whoever it is does not use any high tech equipment. He relies on knives, so theoretically it could be anybody. But we do have a few leads.”

  “Impress me.”

  Richard tapped his fingers against the desk’s surface as he spoke. “There were two ladies who claimed to have been saved by him. There was an article in the Crown City Times about them, but they remained anonymous. Once we close the paper, I’ll get their names out of the editor. Maybe one of them can give us a clue that will narrow down the list of suspects.”

  “I hope that’s not your only lead.”

  “It’s not. Whoever it is has to have a base of operations somewhere. I have all my detectives going to various real estate agencies to see if any purchases have been made of buildings in uninhabited areas where he would not be seen going in and out. We’ve also named him as the most wanted man in the country, so it’s now a felony to harbor or assist him.” The police chief looked up at the lieutenant. “Some of the cops he’s killed were honest men. At least, there was nothing bad on their official record. We’re using them as the poster boys for our manhunt. That’ll draw us some sympathy. There’s a generous reward for any information on him. That should get some of the citizens on our side.”

  Richard paused for a long moment, expecting a comment from Anthony, but none came.

  “…and the reporter who published the story. Finding him is our number one priority right now. He’s our best lead. If anyone has any credible information on the masked killer, it’ll be him. Once we get him, we have a chance of bringing an end to this chaos.”