by J. D. Martin
Stepping alongside Tyrell, he rested the blade on his cheek so he could feel the chill of the surgical steel. “I believe I recall saying something about being respectful.” With a flick of the wrist, the blade left a gash that ran diagonally along the side of his face. Tyrell tried to scream in agony, but the hand covering his mouth muffled the sounds.
Tightening his grip on Tyrell’s chin, he pulled his head up and prepared to finish the job. “I guess you’ll never live to understand being a better person. You’ve made the bed of your life, and now it’s time to go to sleep.”
Chapter 32
“FREEZE,” Delgado shouted as he stepped around the corner of the building. With weapon drawn, he kept it pointed at the vigilante as he advanced. He came down the hill slowly so he wouldn’t slip and lose the bead he had on the man. “Put the blade down and step away from him, or I will be forced to fire.”
“Ah, detective; how are you on this wonderful evening? I must say it’s colder out than it has been; a welcome change from the blistering heat. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I’m not looking for a weather forecast.” Marcus feet continued to search for steady ground as he proceeded down the hill. He was already half way down and didn’t want to lose his momentum now. He was also surprised the suspect didn’t run when Delgado had appeared. Perhaps the surprise had him guessing on a next move? Regardless, it gave time for him to stop another murder.
“Oh, come on, detective, it’s like 75 degrees out here. Even you have to admit how wonderful it feels.” The pleasantries continued while the blade still rested on Tyrell’s throat. The momentary pause gave hope to the captive who had put up a brave front in the face of danger, but was on the verge of wetting himself.
“I have to admit that I’d hoped to finish with my friend here without interruption,” said the man with the scalpel. “Might I ask how you got here so quickly?” Delgado didn’t answer, so he continued. “No matter. I’m a man of information, and I could make a few guesses why you aren’t at home with the family, but I’d rather finish other business I’m in the middle of. Do you think you could come back later? It would be a huge favor and I’d owe you one.”
“You don’t really think I’m going to leave, do you? Tonight’s business is cancelled,” said Delgado as he finished closing the gap between them.
“That’s quite close enough, detective.” Tyrell winced as the pressure of the scalpel on his neck increased, causing Marcus to stop in his tracks. He was close enough to see the pain on his face and blood dripping from the cut on his cheek. Delgado knew from Ally’s testimony that Tyrell was a criminal, but this wasn’t what the man deserved.
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” Delgado began, “but it’s not the kind of help we need.”
“That’s not how you felt a few days ago.” There was a slight tilt of the detective’s head as he narrowed his gaze in confusion. “I told you I’m a man of information. And a little bird tells me that I actually have support in the KCPD. You agree that the justice system has too many holes that allow scum like this to squeeze through.” He looked down at Tyrell and back up at Marcus. “This country has become known for murder and mayhem, and people like myself aren’t taking it anymore.”
“I do understand,” said Marcus. “And I may have been sympathetic to your cause when I first got to Kansas City, but things change. At first, the idea of someone helping to put a stop to crime in the city sounded great. But you’re killing people. You may be stopping their crimes, but you are doing so by committing your own. None of us are above the law, and I’m not going to allow you to continue.”
“Allow me? You’re not going to allow me? Are you trying to say that you have anything to do with whether this man dies?”
“From where I stand, you’ve brought a knife to a gun fight.” Marcus nodded to his 9mm. “Who do you think would win in that matchup?”
“I believe that would depend on the conditions you’re presented with.” Tyrell was suddenly forced up to his feet, which minimized Delgado’s target as the captive was used as a shield. Marcus mentally scolded himself for allowing it to happen. “Sometimes a knife can be a much more precise tool than a handgun. How well do you trust your aim, detective?” Marcus knew that taking a shot now would risk Tyrell’s life. “Not well enough I see.”
“We can still find a way out of this,” said Marcus. “We can let the justice system deal with what this man as done.”
“The justice system? Have you ever looked at how many people that deserve punishment get off without it due to our justice system? How can you act like the city isn’t a better place because of what I do?”
“I can’t contradict that some may see a benefit to what you do. I’ve heard the reports that crime has dropped while you’re around, but that’s only one week a year. People are onto your game and know when to stay off the streets. And that doesn’t excuse the fact that you’re a killer. That means I will do whatever I can to stop you.”
“Even if you could stop me, it would all come back to bite you in the ass. Stopping me means that the real criminals in this city will be left without fear. People are safer with those like me around. Just ask Ally and her fiancé that is being treated for a bullet wound. I stopped that from escalating. We are the counterweights that balance the scales against the bad guys.”
“We?” Delgado asked.
“Yes, myself and others like me.” He cleared his throat, “The royal we.” Marcus stared into the eyes that were barely visible in the shadow cast by the vigilante’s hood. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something seemed forced about his response. The man was trying to cover something up that he nearly let slip. “People like me are needed to maintain balance,” he insisted.
“That’s what the police are for. We take a pledge to uphold the law.”
“Really now…then I guess we find ourselves at an impasse. You want to stop me and you’re welcome to try, but there is more to this standoff than you may yet realize. I have no intention of being taken into custody, nor do I plan on letting this man live.”
As he spoke, Marcus began noticing a vague familiarity to the voice. It was muffled and slightly distorted, but there was still something he recognized. He’d heard this voice before, and the only way to get to the truth was to find a way out of the standoff. He ran all the scenarios through his head as he continued to reason with the vigilante.
“…better I be branded a murderer for what I’ve done than allow my victims to continue harming the innocent.”
“Criminals or not, you’re still a murderer,” said Marcus. “Nemo est supra legis”
“Nobody is above the law? I’m impressed, detective. I see I’m not the only one who knows a little Latin. I believe you’re shaping up to be quite the yin to my yang. Honestly, I’d love to continue our little back and forth, but I really must be going. So how about we test how much Latin you really know? Qui tacet consentire videtur.”
He who is silent is taken to agree was the vigilante’s mantra to drive forward with his cause. It was how he reasoned with himself that he wasn’t the bad guy. And as he said it, he dug the blade into Tyrell’s throat and ripped it ferociously across it. The move was lightning fast as it showered crimson that splashed on the dirt and brought another life to an end.
The vigilante shoved Tyrell’s body forward, which crashed into Marcus and knocked him off balance. As he fell backwards with Tyrell’s blood spraying out at him, he felt a hand grasping for his gun. His hand was twisted sideways and up with such force that it nearly snapped his wrist as the weapon came free of his grasp. As he looked up from the ground with the bleeding body on top of him, he saw his attacker remove the magazine and clear the chamber before tossing the empty weapon to the ground and turning to flee.
Delgado kicked at him and caught some luck as he managed to trip the vigilante who crashed to the ground with a puff of dust. Shoving the blood-soaked body to the side, Marcus pulled himself to his feet as his foe did the same.
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Before he could attempt another escape, Delgado dove at the vigilante and slammed into the center of his back. Both men crashed down again and Marcus heard the familiar clang of metal as his opponent’s blade bounced away. Without the scalpel or the gun, the altercation came down to brute strength. Punches flew in this game of fisticuffs as they rolled across the ground; each trying to gain the upper hand.
Or a roll that put Delgado on the bottom, he gripped both his foe’s arms and used his legs as leverage to flip over as hard as he could. He rolled both of them to the side until he was above the opposition and shoved both the vigilante’s arms into the hard ground. The man screamed in pain before punching Marcus in the chin with enough force to shove him backwards. He landed on the dirt and started to scramble back to his feet when he felt warm liquid on his palm.
Bringing it into the moonlight; he saw a line of blood across the width of his palm that hadn’t been there before. When Tyrell fell, his blood hand gotten on Delgado’s chest, but not his hands. He inspected it closer as the vigilante still lay on the ground a few feet from him. There weren’t in cuts on his hands, so the blood had come from the man before him. Could that really be the answer? He stared at the vigilante with curiosity as the man grasped at his shoulder. Still in shock, he looked back at his hand and breathed deeply. “It can’t be.”
Chapter 33
In the bedroom of a fifteen-year-old boy, the walls were covered by posters of superheroes and famous musicians. In one corner was Miles Davis playing his trumpet while in the other was the Dark Knight perched on a roof top as he watched over Gotham. Beneath the watchful eye of the bat, a short bookshelf was filled with board games and YA books.
The room portrayed the delicate balance of school and play in the teenage boy’s life. At this age he was dating, learning to drive, and researching colleges to attend. He was getting hints of what it would be like as an adult having to fend for himself. But for now, he was still able to fall back on the help of his loving parents.
On the bed, the boy was still sleeping as his mother watched over him from the doorway. Each morning when she was about to wake him, she paused for a moment to view how peaceful he was as he slept. Working the late shift at the hospital meant she was waking him up for school before turning in herself. Her son had an alarm set to wake him, but she always liked to do it herself. It wouldn’t be long until he was off on his own and she wouldn’t be afforded the luxury.
Just before the clock read 7:00, she deactivated the alarm on the side table and shook his shoulder to wake him. He rubbed his eyes to adjust to the light before looking up at her.
“Mom, do you always have to stand there watching me? It’s a little creepy.”
“I can’t help it, sweetie. You’re just so cute. Did you sleep alright?”
“Yeah, but another hour would be awesome.”
“I’m sure it would be, but it’s a school day so get up, mister. Your father told me about the movie marathon you guys had last night. Did you have fun?”
“Yeah, we watched the Star Wars trilogy again.”
Chuckling, she added, “You boys and your Star Wars. How about you get yourself cleaned up? After you’re dressed I’ll have some breakfast for you in the kitchen.”
“Oh, could you make that sausage-and-pepper omelet you made a few days ago?”
“Sure, but first you need to get your butt out of bed,” she said, swatting him on the behind.
“Love you too, Mom.” Smiling, she left him to clean up.
Thirty minutes later, he came into the kitchen showered and dressed with the scent of apple-smoked sausage permeating the air. His mother was a pretty decent cook, but her omelets were like a little slice of heaven. He slid up to the kitchen table and poured a glass of orange juice as his mother set the plate holding his omelet on the table.
Adding a layer of hot sauce and a side of hash browns with ketchup, he shoveled forkfuls into his mouth. He savored the flavors that mixed together from the crispy potatoes and spiced eggs. Just about the time he was finishing up the last bite, his mother looked at the clock on the wall and told him it was time to go.
“You should get moving if you expect to make it to school on time.” Swallowing the last bite, he washed it down with the rest of the orange juice. After placing his dish in the sink, he grabbed a blueberry muffin from the counter for the road, and kissed his mother on the cheek before rushing out the front door.
Outside on the sidewalk, he walked towards the school listening to his Walkman. Jamming to the latest from Guns N’ Roses, he bobbed his head and lip-synced along until his vision went dark from someone’s hand and the headphones were pulled back. He felt her lips on his cheek before he saw her. “Guess who,” she whispered in his ear.
“Hmm, I’m thinking Lauren? No, it’s Rose…or maybe Heather? You know, it’s hard to narrow it down with all the girls that like to kiss me.”
This was met with a swift smack to the back of the head as Shana stepped into view. Although she stared annoyingly back at him, all he could do was laugh. “Oh, baby, it’s you,” he said sarcastically. “I mistook you for someone else.”
Looking at him as if she might hit him harder, “Don’t make me smack you again.” She knew he liked to joke, so she enjoyed ribbing him right back. Taking her hand, he pulled her in close and kissed it as an apology. The sparks of young love burned between them as they walked the rest of the way to school with their fingers intertwined.
After lunch, the young man took the east stairwell to the second floor for his philosophy class. He’d been taking it three times a week at third period for about a semester and thoroughly enjoyed it. The class discussions this week had focused on ethics.
Applied ethics was an area of particular fascination to him; specifically, that of Bioethics. It governed matters of controversy such as abortion or euthanasia, and the weight of decisions over such conflicted situations intrigued him. How does one make a choice when there isn’t a clear answer?
On the way to class, he passed Shana at the top of the stairs as she headed to biology. “Are you doing anything tonight?” he asked. “It’s my parents weekly date night, so I was wondering if you’d want to go out too. Maybe we could get some burgers or something?”
“I don’t know, I’ve got like five guys lined up for tonight so I’ll have to check my schedule.” He smirked at her jab from that morning and stuck his tongue out at her, which made her laugh. “Tell you what, I’ll just cancel on all of them and have you meet at my house at 5:30. Will that work? We can walk to the diner down the street.”
“That sounds great,” he said as he continued up the stairs towards philosophy. “I’ll see you tonight.” Giving her a smile and a wink, he parted her company to get to class before the bell rang.
The rest of the day went by quickly and the final bell rang before he knew it. Most of the students were packed up and ready to leave well before then, but he had been so deep in thought as he considered the lesson that day that the bell and startled him. His classmates had already cleared out to the hall by the time he finished packing his books into his backpack. He told Mr. Rafferty to have a good evening and headed for home.
After walking in the front door, the young man heard voices down the hall while grabbing a soda from the fridge. Following the sounds, he found his parents sitting on their bed looking at papers in a red folder as they discussed where to have dinner.
“Come on, Erica, which restaurant would you prefer?”
“I could go for the Greek or Chinese. Do either of those sound good to you?” As she glanced back up to her husband’s face, she saw her son standing in the doorway. “Douglas, I think we have a visitor.”
His Dad looked up at him, “Hey, bud. How was school?”
“It was good. Lined up a date with Shana tonight.”
“Oh, that sounds fun,” said his mother. “What are you two going to do?”
“After I meet her at her house, we’re going to walk to the diner.”
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br /> “Well make sure you guys be careful.”
“We will, Mom,” he said as he turned to head to his own room. “Oh, and you guys should do Chinese; you had Greek the week before last.”
She looked up at the ceiling as she thought back. “You’re right.” Turning back to Douglas, “Chinese then?”
“Anything for you, babe,” he said giving her a kiss.
“Come on, guys,” the boy exclaimed with a slightly disgusted look. “Let the minors leave the room before you start that. Keep it PG for the sake of the children.”
He walked towards his room sipping his soda as he heard his parents chuckling behind him. As he passed, he tossed his bag onto his bed and continued to the living room where he dropped onto the couch in front of the TV. After a long day of knowledge-building, it was time for some after-school programming.
As he perused the boob tube, he lost track of time until he happened to glance at the wall clock to realize he should have left for Shana’s ten minutes ago. Springing from the couch, he ran to his bedroom and turned his closet into a whirlwind of clothes flying through the air as he pulled out an outfit befitting a date. Throwing it on, he included a splash of cologne before rushing out the door.
Running the entire way to her house, he was thankful that Shana didn’t hold his tardiness against him. It didn’t hurt that he’d picked a few wildflowers for her on the way. The smile he received when presenting them to her gave off the affection he’d hoped for instead of the irritation he narrowly avoided. Regardless, he still apologized for his tardiness, which she waved off as not a big deal.
As she held his arm, he escorted her to the diner as a gentleman. After the main course, they shared a strawberry milkshake over smiles and playful banter. When they’d finished, he paid the bill and held the door for her as they left. He learned early from his father that you always treat women with respect, and Shana was a girl that he wanted to shower with everything he had.