Mystery Men (& women) Volume 1

by B C Bell

  “I want to leave something behind, Doc. I don’t have any kids that I know about so if I want to have a legacy, it’s got to be one that I made, you know what I’m saying? People in this town are going to remember Thaddeus Marquard and his Thunderfist.”

  “And you’re going to do all of that with a glove?”

  “Not just a glove. This is just something personal I bought at the same time as my real treasure. It’s too big to fit into this office but right now it’s strapped onto the bottom of a zeppelin that’s going to fly over the city tomorrow, right when the mayor’s giving his press conference to announce the hiring of twenty new police officers.” Marquard moved quickly away from the still stunned Severin and yanked open a drawer on his desk. He pulled out a photograph, which he brandished proudly. “Take a look-see.”

  Severin stared at the odd device for several seconds before blinking. It looked like the barrel of a gun, though far larger, measuring nearly twelve feet in length. A series of buttons along the shaft of the object resembled those on Marquard’s Thunderfist glove. “Are you trying to tell me that this is a giant version of that glove?”

  “You got it. It can fire a burst of electricity capable of frying dozens, if not hundreds, of people all at once. I’m gonna be like Zeus, Doc, sending down my thunderbolts to slay my enemies.”

  Not knowing what else to say, Doctor Severin muttered, “Brilliant.”

  He was saved from further discussion by a knock on the door. A pretty young blonde, Marquard’s personal secretary, peeked into the room. “Sorry to bother you, sir, but there’s an officer here to see you. His name is Roland Moore.

  Marquard’s smile faded. He dismissed Severin with a quick wave and returned to his desk, placing both the photo and the box containing The Fourth Nail into a drawer. He didn’t notice the relief evident on Severin’s face and wouldn’t have cared if he had.

  His ultimate victory was approaching and nothing would ruin it, especially not some two-bit cop.

  ***

  Roland and Sue were ushered into Marquard’s office and both of them felt like the proverbial flies wandering too close to the spider’s web. There were two men outside the building and despite the fact that they appeared to be absorbed in the daily paper, Roland knew they were guns for hire. They passed three more like them in the lobby and another two who were sitting in the waiting room outside. Heck, Roland felt reasonably certain that the secretary was packing, too.

  Sue was a bit more concerned with the man they’d passed on their way in. She knew him: Doctor Severin, a man whose medical license had been yanked three years ago after he’d been busted on ethics charges. It was that sort of perfect recall that made her so valuable to Roland.

  Thaddeus Marquard didn’t bother getting up from his chair. He seemed to be engrossed in several sheets of bars and graphs. Without looking up, he asked, “So what can I do for you, Detective?”

  Roland didn’t bother pretending to be nice. He deliberately leaned across the desk, obscuring Marquard’s view of the papers. “An old friend of yours was murdered and a few things were stolen from his safe. You know anything about that?”

  “If you’re talking about Maxwell, I’ve heard about it. It was in the papers. A shame, though the man and I had a falling out a few years ago and hadn’t really kept in touch.”

  “That why you didn’t feel bad about having him killed?”

  “If you’re making accusations like that, maybe I should call my lawyer.”

  Roland straightened, a look of venom on his face. “I had a nasty run-in with a guy named Mort not long ago. His buddy managed to slip away with a box containing a human skull. I want it. Give it to me now and maybe I’ll give you a head start in getting out of town before I come after you.”

  Sue looked at Roland in surprise, wondering if he was serious. Did he want to get The Fourth Nail back so badly that he’d bend the law to do it?

  Marquard snorted. “Please. I don’t believe you, Detective… and even if I did, I don’t know anything about a box with a skull in it. Why would I want a skull?”

  “You want The Fourth Nail,” Roland said, carefully watching the criminal for any signs of recognition. Marquard’s face remained devoid of any traces of guilt. “You think that’s going to wash away all your sins?” Roland pressed. “Because I think the blood’s so deeply ingrained in your skin that nothing would remove the stench.”

  “Do you have papers giving you the authority to search my office, Detective? Because if you don’t, I suggest you turn around and leave, taking your pet girl with you. If you stay any longer, I might have to press charges against you for harassment.”

  Roland clenched his fists. “Why you—”

  Sue caught Roland by the arm. “Let it go.” Casting a disapproving look at Marquard, she added, “We’re sorry to have bothered you, Mr. Marquard. If you think of anything that might help us solve Mr. Smith’s murder, please contact us at the station.”

  Without waiting for a response, Sue began tugging Roland towards the door. When they were in the elevator, he pulled away and asked incredulously, “What was that about? I was starting to get to him!”

  “You were close to getting yourself thrown in jail. We can come back once we’ve got the warrant.” Sue bit her bottom lip and looked mischievously at her friend. “Or, I could ask Dusk to handle it. Then we don’t need a warrant at all.”

  “You didn’t say she’d left you her number.”

  “She told me how to contact her, as long as I promised not to share that information.”

  Roland regarded her with an odd expression on his face. “Not even with me?”

  “Not even you. She… doesn’t really trust men. I think something bad happened to her once and that’s part of the reason why she does all this.”

  Roland stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pants and stepped out into the lobby when the elevator door opened. “Fine. Give her a call. See if she can do something. But you and I never had this conversation.”

  Sue looked at him brightly. “What conversation?”

  Roland found himself grinning. “That’s my girl.”

  Chapter V.

  The Lord of Lightning

  It was near midnight when Thaddeus Marquard strode into the hangar containing his zeppelin. The airship was moored with long ropes, giving the impression that the zeppelin was some mighty creature of the sky, ensnared in some awful prison that kept it earthbound. The villain held the box in his right hand, The Fourth Nail still buried in the skull of its old owner. He had yet to actually touch the holy relic. Something kept stopping him, though he couldn’t quite explain what it was. It was almost as if the anticipation of salvation was so sweet that he couldn’t quite bring himself to end the process.

  There was also the fact that Roland’s words had disturbed him. What if his sins were so great that nothing could wash them away? How would he deal with that disappointment?

  Rather than answer any of those questions, he chose to keep the box close at hand and go about his duties. He had brought along The Thunderfist, thinking it fitting that he should have it when boarding the zeppelin. He carried it in a small duffel bag in his left hand.

  A slender German with thin blond hair, a long white coat and round glasses, was berating members of the flight crew when Marquard entered. The man paused and forced a smile on his face at the sight of his patron. Professor Wilhelm Hohmann bowed low in greeting. “Herr Marquard! This is a surprise! We did not expect you at this hour!”

  “Is everything ready for the morning?”

  “But of course! The mayor is scheduled to give his speech at ten a.m. and our zeppelin will be airborne a half hour before that!”

  Marquard studied the vessel proudly, like a father viewing a newborn son. “And there won’t be any problems?”

  “None.
It has been tested quite thoroughly!”

  “Good. Because if anything does go wrong, I’m going to blame you.” Marquard saw the German’s smile fade slightly and he laughed, slapping the man on the back. “I’d like to step onboard. I haven’t been on it since I purchased it and you began making the modifications.”

  Hohmann nodded briskly, barking at his men to help Marquard board his ship. His words broke off in mid-sentence, however, and a millisecond later, a crack rang out in the air. Marquard was looking directly at Hohmann when a hole in the man’s throat seemed to magically appear, blood spilling quickly out. The German raised his hands in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding but he quickly sagged to his knees, gurgling his next few words.

  Marquard dove up the stairs leading onto the zeppelin. He turned around to see a woman entering the hangar, a gun in each hand. Her accuracy was uncanny and within seconds, Marquard saw four more of his men fall to the ground, all with wounds to their heads or chests.

  The woman was so stunning that Marquard was momentarily rooted to the spot. She looked average height but her body was tight and hard, encased in tight black trousers and a black bustier that showcased ample cleavage. The lower half of her face was hidden beneath a cloth mask and her low-brimmed hat hid all but a few red-blonde curls. Though he’d never seen her before, Marquard knew instantly that he was looking at the infamous Dusk.

  He almost felt flattered to see her here.

  Dusk approached the zeppelin without fear, reloading as she went. The few men she hadn’t shot had ducked behind barrels or other equipment. None of them were armed, not having expected any trouble. “Thaddeus Marquard,” she yelled. “It’s time to face justice.”

  Marquard set down the box and opened the duffel bag, quickly donning The Thunderfist. He stepped down the ramp, moving into Dusk’s view. She was holding her guns at her side, both barrels trailing smoke. “If you’re here about Maxwell, you’ve got the wrong person,” he said.

  “We both know better than that.” Dusk’s green eyes fastened onto the strange glove that Marquard wore. “Your fashion sense is as bad as your morals.”

  Marquard grunted. “Funny. No one mentioned that you had a sense of humor.”

  “That’s because they’re all dead.”

  Marquard snarled. He hated anyone who didn’t bow down before him but he particularly detested mouthy women. Acting with surprising speed, Marquard charged Dusk, activating The Thunderfist as he moved. It crackled to life, sparks flying as he closed in on his opponent. Dusk moved as gracefully as a cat and avoided him for the most part but Marquard caught her shoulder with the edge of his glove. The electrical impact was enough to elicit a grunt of pain from the vigilante and it lifted her off her feet, sending her flying backwards. She landed in a crouch, her arm numb down to the elbow.

  “After I knock you around a little,” Marquard said, closing in once more, “I’m going to pass you around to my boys. Maybe sell you off to all the gangs you’ve been hounding. I bet there are lots of guys who would love to give you a little payback.”

  Dusk stayed low, raising her good arm and pushing the barrel of her gun directly against Marquard’s knee. She knew she was leaving herself open to another blow from The Thunderfist but she thought it worth the risk. Just as Marquard slammed the glove down atop Dusk’s head, she fired her gun, pulling the trigger twice in rapid succession. At such close range, the bullets tore through skin and bone, eradicating Marquard’s knee. He howled in agony, his screams lost in the crackling sounds of his glove striking human flesh. Dusk twitched, her eyes opening wide. The scent of burning skin filled the air, its sickly sweet stench repulsing Marquard. He stumbled back, his legs crumbling beneath him. He landed hard, tears of pain stinging his eyes.

  Marquard lay there for several moments before he felt hands pulling him upright. Through the haze of agony, he recognized some of the men who crewed the zeppelin. “Get me onboard,” he hissed. He was faint from loss of blood and was suddenly fearful that he might die without having touched The Fourth Nail. The men half-carried and half-dragged him towards the ship while Marquard craned his neck to see Dusk. His glove was still sparking and he was sure that he’d killed her with that last punch. At the very least, she had to be comatose.

  “Stop,” he wheezed. When his men didn’t respond, he shoved one of them away and leaned heavily on another. “Where is she?” he demanded.

  One of the men looked at him blankly. “Who?”

  “Dusk, you damned fool! Where is she?”

  The man shrugged. “We were all hiding when you went out to face her. We heard another gunshot and what sounded like thunder. When we looked out, all we saw was you lying on the ground.”

  Marquard swallowed in disbelief. “Onboard. Quickly.”

  The crewmen got him up the ramp and he sagged to the floor next to the box. He snatched it up, already knowing that something was wrong. The tingles he’d felt before were absent. He opened the lid and saw nothing inside. The skull and The Fourth Nail were both gone.

  “Should we call Doc Severin?” one of the men asked.

  “No.” Marquard shook his head, tossing the box aside. There was an air of madness about him but none of the men were brave enough to dare disobey him. “Get this ship in the air.”

  “But you’re hurt…”

  “You think I don’t know that?” Marquard bellowed, using a nearby pipe to pull himself to his feet. He couldn’t stand on what was left of his ruined leg but the other held his weight just fine. He spoke in a clipped, weary voice. “It’s all over. I’ve lost. I’m going to burn in Hell. But I’m going to take this city with me.”

  ***

  Dusk was breathing heavily, her mind awash in confusing images and sensations. She thought she felt the floor beneath her rattle as if the zeppelin were in motion… but surely she was imagining it. She opened her green eyes, staring into the darkness. She had called upon lessons learned in the Orient after Marquard’s attack. An ancient and very wise man had taught her to detach herself from the pain of the body, allowing her to push on when others would not. Using those skills she had managed to stand up despite the incredible pain in her head and the fact that part of her hair and forehead were singed. She had boarded the zeppelin out of instinct more than anything, hoping that the cowards who served Marquard would not find her. In her current condition, she wasn’t sure that she could defeat even one or two of them. To her amazement, she’d found the missing skull almost immediately, She’d picked up the box and dumped its contents into one of her gloved hands, quickly stumbling down a hall and collapsing into a storage room.

  Dusk looked down at the skull and at The Fourth Nail, which protruded from it. She could feel some sort of energy coming from it but the fact that she’d not touched it with her bare skin had prevented her from fully realizing what it could do. She set it down on the floor and pulled off her glove. She wasn’t looking for salvation; she was hoping that it might heal some of the damage she’d sustained.

  Dusk picked up the skull again, this time doing it by gripping the nail itself. Immediately, energy coursed through her and she shivered, barely containing a moan that threatened to escape her lips. A flurry of images cascaded through her mind’s eye, secret shames and lingering regrets. She saw men and women who had died at her hands but those images were indistinct, for she felt no guilt over their demise. The Fourth Nail instead focused in on the things that did haunt her: Sue sitting alone in a darkened hospital room, sobbing; a funeral held in the pouring rain – a funeral that Dusk attended from the shadows, apart from her family; and finally a house aflame, putting a final closing moment on a life that was forever lost to her.

  When the moment had passed, she felt liberated, as if those dark tidings had been wiped away forever. Beneath her mask, her lips moved into an unfamiliar position: a grin. She felt renewed, both spiritually and physically. She set
the skull aside and stood up, focusing her acute hearing on the voices she could hear outside. She recognized Marquard, but his voice sounded strained.

  “Get us there now!” he was saying. “I want to leave City Hall in ruins!”

  Dusk took a moment to check her pistols, ensuring that she had a full clip in each. She knew that Roland would prefer that she take Marquard alive but she had no such qualms. The guilty needed punishing and touching The Fourth Nail had not softened her stance on that. The legal system could not be counted on to handle scum like Marquard. The man was very wealthy, which meant that he could buy and sell men of influence.

  After taking a deep breath, Dusk yanked open the door… and came face-to-face with two men brandishing rifles. They smiled at the look of surprise in her face.

  “Boss!” one of them yelled. “We found her, just like you said.”

  Marquard hobbled into the hallway, leaning heavily on the shoulder of a brawny crewman. He grinned like the Cheshire Cat. “Bet you didn’t expect this, did you?”

  “No,” she admitted.

  “One of my men spotted your blood. You left a trail down the hall. I told them to set up shop outside the door and wait for you. We could have burst in and killed you but that would have been too quick for you. I want you to see me when I triumph.”

  “Triumph?” she asked, scorn lacing her words. “You’re going to end up dead, one way or another. “If I don’t kill you, the loss of blood will. If you had any sense, you’d be taking this ship to the hospital, not City Hall.”

  Marquard made an ugly face and raised his gloved hand towards her. It crackled with malevolent energy. “You saw up close what my glove can do… this ship can do that a hundred times over. I’m going to carve my initials on the city map. No one will ever forget who I was!”