[Dark Defender]

 


I stood there over him, with my gun in my hand, pointed directly at his balding head. I wanted to kill him, and for a moment…I didn’t care if it was wrong. Just before I squeezed the trigger I heard him cry and at that moment I realized what I was doing. I released the hammer and holstered the gun. I took a step back and looked at him. “If you ever come near Sarah again…” I didn’t have to finish the sentence. He knew what I meant. I turned and headed for the door and I heard him one more time. “I’m never gonna stop…I’ll always come back.” I took a deep breath and turned back. He was laughing again. This time I couldn’t stop myself. I ran toward him and pulled out my 9mm side arm and lunged at him. He tried to get up but my knee crushed his nose on impact. I raised my hand, the gun clenched in between my fingers, and I hit him. I hit him again, and again. I hit him so hard with the butt of my gun that I watched his left eye pop. It was at that I second that I remembered who I was. I was that scared little kid from the edge of Hell Zone. I backed up but it was too late. He had slumped over, smacking his head on the wood floor. Gary now laid an inch deep in his own blood and teeth.

I didn’t know if he was breathing or not and I was too scared to stick around and find out. I wiped whatever I had remembered touching down, trying to hide the fact that I was ever there, and snuck out the door. The worst part of the whole thing was that I wasn’t appalled at myself. I wasn’t scared that I would get caught or what might have happened. As I walked down Broad Street, toward my home, with a bit of Gary’s blood unknowingly still on my face, I was at peace. I was almost happy. Not because of what I had done but because who I had done it to and because now I knew, no matter what, Sarah would always be safe. No matter how many Gary’s crept out of her closet, I would be there to DEFEND her. That day was the first day that I took a life. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the last.


”You’re pathetic. I’ve watched you, Travis. I know who you are. I know what you stand for and it makes me sick. I came to Sin City Wrestling on a mission; a mission to find someone and bring him or her to justice by any means necessary. And the longer I search for them the more I understand why I am really here. I will find him, or possibly her, but I will also seek out the cruel, and the indecent, and punish them as well. The true nature of my journey is now clear to me. First it was Thaddeus Stone, an insignificant failed actor with delusions of grandeur. I put him out of his misery and he has limped on ever since, finally laying his weak and beaten carcass down for you to finish off. Which, by the way, I’m sure is a victory that will no doubt be lauded by someone like you; another weak minded, delusional fool. At least Stone possessed some sort of ideology. He knew he was pandering to a crowd and clinging to some sort of hope that this stage, the world famous and world touring Sin City stage, would somehow elevate what he perceived as his fallen star. He was too stupid to know that his star was one that never had quite shined but at least he had purpose. He was driven and he knew where he really stood in our world. But you…”

“I don’t like you, Travis. I don’t need to know more about you to determine that either. Your brash and arrogant ways are indicative enough of who you really are. Your ways astound me more than anything because they are unwarranted. You are worse than Stone because, unlike my fallen comrade Thaddeus, you lack vision of who you really are. You are not some great competitor that comes from a long pedigree of Champions. You are the forgotten child of a family that once had high hopes for you. When I think of all you might have accomplished due to your lineage, it saddens me. There could’ve been great triumphs in your life, Travis, and no I do not mean the slew of worthless championships you may or may not have won in your career. I mean true greatness, the likeness of which only few will ever see. You had the bloodline, the opportunity, and even the charisma. You could have had it all. Instead you chose to squander it all away. You chose to alienate yourself from anyone good in your life and in doing so, you set yourself on a path that I can not allow you to continue on. It will bring me no joy to put an end to your journey on Sunday, Travis. You could have been special, but in the end, you’ll end up being nothing more than a footnote in history. I will break you, Travis, and then….and then I will forget you.”


As the night turned into day, he looked for shelter. The rain began to pick up again and his surgical was starting to soak through and his hooded sweatshirt was starting to get heavy as it became saturated with the heavy rainwater. He came across an old ice cream shop that he remembered from when he was younger. He had taken her their on their first anniversary and his daughter on her third birthday. The store, Sweet Cream, was now boarded up and closed down. He kicked through the back door and closed it behind him; he had found his shelter. He found some old boxes and set himself up a small bed in what was probably at one point an old office. He removed his boots and tended to his wounded foot. It was swollen and red, but it was healing. The doctor, Dr. Hung, had done nice work. The stitches were clean and the wound was already recovering. Across from his hung a broken mirror. Just fragments remained but it was enough for him to get a glimpse of himself. He didn’t like who he had become. He was a monster, a shadow of the man he once was, filled with rage and determination. He was afraid that the burning desire to hunt and punish that now lived inside of him would not return to dormancy after he found those partied responsible for what had happened to his family. He was scared to know what it would really feel like to exact revenge on the parties responsible and what it would be like to know what really happened.

He stared at the broken mirror pieces and saw, for the first time, who he really was. His scars were not a terrible reminder of a worse memory nor were they simply remaining wounds of a battle that was once fought. They were part of him, who he really was. He was the last chance for a city to have hope. He was a defender of that hope. He would stop at nothing to preserve that hope for the daughter he would never get to see grow up and have a family of her own. But more than that, he was a punisher of those who would threaten that hope. He knew that it wouldn’t stop with the Westies, if they even were responsible. He knew that his thirst for punishment and justice would never be quenched. This is who he was now. The man he was all those years ago, the husband and the father, the police officer, was gone. Ripped away layer by layer, year after year, by the city he once swore to protect. What remained was just rage and aggression and a deep desire to make those responsible pay. He knew what he had to do and he knew where he had to start. First, he needed to sleep. He took one harder look at the broken mirror before lying down on his cardboard bed. He shut his eyes and for the first time in over seven years, he dreamed of her. He saw her smile as he drifted away, awaiting the next sun down so his journey could continue.


I didn’t need to tell Sarah what I had done. When I busted through the front door of our apartment the look on my face had said it all. The look and the spots  of Gary’s blood that were also on my face. At first she didn’t know how to react. “He’s….dead?” she asked as I sat her down on the couch. “What….why…how?” she stammered as she tried to get her questions out. It was almost as if she were said he were gone. A notion that I didn’t quite understand at that time, but do now. After a few long and terrifying moments, she smiled. She laughed and then cried a bit and then pulled me in for tightest embrace I have ever felt. “I love you, ***BLEEP***!” Those were the greatest four words I had ever heard. She gripped me tighter and tighter. It felt as if she didn’t want to let go and I was perfectly content letting her hold me. That night was the first time we made love. Ever trying doing it with a woman who was nearly ten months? It was weird, uncomfortable, and difficult and I loved every second of it. It was one of the greatest nights of my life. We talked for hours and it felt like for the first time since we were children that Sarah was completely opening up to me and I ate it up. I had only slept for a few hours when there was a knock on the door.

I opened the front door to our apartment to see my partner, Eddie Raymond, standing in front of me with a smirk on his face. He was in full uniform, although we were off that day. “Get your pants on, kid,” He always called me kid and I hated it. To be honest, I loved everything else about the guy. Eddie was one of those guys you could really trust. He came from a good hard working family of cops and we shared an almost unhealthy love of our city and the law. He was a bit shorter than me but wider than I was at the time. He had dark curly hair that he wore like he was a 1930’s gangster, full of gel and hair spray and desperately all pushed over to one side. His one real distinguishing feature was his lazy left eye. When Eddie was still in high school he tried to break up a fight between a few older kids and an undersized boy. The group of older hooligans thanked him by shoving a pointed rock into his eye socket at high speed. He was luck he didn’t lose any of his vision but he looked like Colombo with that eye. “Come on, ***BLEEP***, get your shirt on!” he said again. “Why? I thought we were off today.” I was confused as to what he was getting at. “We were, but now we’re not. We got some over time.” He replied. He knew I had been trying to pick up some overtime with the baby coming in so I’m sure he felt like he was doing me a favor, which he was. “Sure thing, Eddie. Where are we headed?” I wondered He responded quickly; “A murder scene.” He smiled at me like he had just scored big at the raceway but I all of a sudden had terrible feeling in the deep pit of my stomach. “Where at?” I asked nervously. “On the other side of Hellzone. That old roach motel on Broad Street. Apparently some guy got his face smashed in.” He smiled again. It was as if that moment froze for me. I was about to go work my first murder scene…which also happened to be the scene of my first murder.”


” It sickens me how much potential you could have had, Travis, how far you could have gone. I watch you desperately try to grab the spotlight and try to push anyone else out of it and it is just sad to watch such a great pedigree go to waste. I wonder if that’s how your sister felt when she could no longer gobble up the crap that is your persona. I wonder if your father looks back on your life and feels as if you are his greatest disappointment. I’m curious to know if your mother can even look herself in the mirror anymore, knowing what she allowed her son to become and grow up to be. And no, Travis, I don’t mean an arrogant, brash, asshole. I mean can your family, your GREAT wrestling family really stomach the fact that you’re just insignificant? For all of the spotlight that you so frantically try to cling to, has it even registered in your under developed brain that the light isn’t even being shined in your direction? I know how that must feel. To have a deep, painful, desire for something and to not be able to extinguish that burning fire inside. I share that with you, Travis, and it is for this reason and this reason alone that I will have just a small ounce of compassion for you when I put you out on Sunday and ERADICATE all of the things that you have done wrong. Our world will be a better place for it, Travis, and your family will thank me.”

“I wonder if you’ll even read this message that I have left for you. I wonder, if you do, if you will even let the words sink in. You strike me as the type of man who is dense and impenetrable. A man, that no matter how fool hearty his ways are, could never be persuaded to change his course. Are you as thick headed as I believe you to be, Travis? Are you that far gone? Will you care enough to even read this or will you just go about your business as usual, oblivious to your surroundings? There comes a time when all men must meet their maker. A time when all men must look at themselves in the mirror and know exactly who they are. I know who I am, Travis. On Sunday I will show you who you are. I will show the whole world how the last son of the Andrews family is nothing more than a pretender and a failure. A forgotten son and a loser. I will show all of this to you, Travis, and hopefully, when you’re standing in front of your maker, you will finally be able to be honest with yourself. I hope you’ll be able to look at yourself in the mirror and know who you are and then, only then, when you’re finally at your lowest point….that is when I will break you. You will get no second chances, Travis. There will be no white angel in your corner on Sunday and no one in your famous wrestling family will be able to help you. Not mommy, not daddy, and certainly not grand pappy. Even Ralph Lorenzo won’t be able to help you. And at that last moment, when you’re finally ERADICATED…I hope your sister Victoria is there to see it. I hope it gives her some peace knowing that you were finally and mercilessly put out of your misery.”


He awoke just after dusk. He waited for the streets to quiet down before he left his new home, the Sweet Cream. He pulled the hood of his dark gray sweatshirt over his head and as tight as he could. He knew once someone noticed his scars, it could be all over too soon. The news of his escape had no doubt must have made headlines by now and he was probably on the front of every cop’s mind. As the night grew darker, he paced through the streets of Hell Zone, avoiding eye contact with anyone who might look in his direction. He wandered until he found a small sporting goods store. He lurked around to make sure no one was in the area before smashing in the back window. The alarm was loud and instantaneous. He knew he only had a few minutes, so he scoured for anything he could find. He found his way into the hunting and paintball section and it was as if he had hit the jack pot. A smile formed through his scars as he started to rifle through the items on the shelf. He picked up a black duffel bag and began to stuff as much as he could into it. Black face paint was first, followed by a slew of emergency kits. He picked up a black tactical paintball vest and shoved it into the bag. He looked around the shelves nervously, trying to move as fast he could, and that is when his eyes caught it. At first he couldn’t make out what it was but when he picked it up off of the shelf, it was clear. It was a black tactical paint ball mask with a white skull painted on the front. It was as if this mask was left here just for him. The only one of its kind in the store, he had to have it. He picked it up and that’s when he was interrupted. “Stop right there and put your hands up!”

He knew that voice. He turned his head slightly and out of the corner of his eye he confirmed what he already knew. The broad shoulders, the dark curly and gel ridden hair, the lazy left eye. It was his old partner, gun drawn and pointed in his direction, Eddie Raymond. He turned some more and stepped a bit into the light. “Don’t make one more move or I’ll shoot! Drop the bag and put your hands behind your head.” Eddie insisted. As he spoke the words he took notice of the man. His dark features, his bright eyes. He quickly moved to the deep red scars on the bottom half of his face but something caught his attention. Through his scars he saw the man smile. Eddie’s eyes widened…

“***BLEEP***?”

To be continued…