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Excerpt from "And Justice for All"
ca. Year Ten ie a long time in the future
This is an excerpt from the tenth installment of a story I'm nowhere near completing (as it is, I've only got about half of Year One finished, and fragments of the various years to come). Before the excerpt: a quick (relatively) summary:
And Justice For All is a story about a man who donned a mask to outrun his personal demons, became a city's hero, and turned into a living legend. Lysander Emerson, son of a famous actor and nephew to an entrepreneur, was born into money. Following his father's death and his mother's commitment to Portston's premier psychiatric hospital, "Sander" leaves Portston having decided that there is nothing left in that city worth living for. Sander, a brilliant young man with a proclivity for science, succeeded in completing high school and his undergraduate in a record-breaking five years. Away at college, he met his mentor, a criminal psychology professor by the name of Nicholas Shein. Having taken the class merely to try to gain some perspective on his father's murder, Sander instead finds himself suspicious of Shein's preferred methods for the delivery of Justice. After discovering that Shein is the legendary vigilante known simply as "Grandfather" in the superhero community, Sander believes he has found a cause to fight for, one which would finally make his life seem worth living again.
Despite Shein's entreaties, after several years of learning, Sander decides that he needs to return to Portston, and see justice delivered in the city that took his father from him, and drove his mother to insanity. With the help of his caregiver, confidant, and surrogate mother Edna Baker, Sander crafts the Nightwalker persona; a masked and caped grimm-reaper-like figure with only Shein's teachings and military-grade adapted body armor protecting him. A/N: a year after I began writing this, I realized that there was an anime-cop-something-or-other character who had already taken the Nightwalker name. So be it -- it's too late for me to change his name this late in the game. Sander's alter-ego will forever be 'Nightwalker' in my head, and I apologize for the entirely unintentional redundency. Being Nightwalker allows Sander to regain some of the humanity he had lost following the loss of his family. Balancing the Emerson family business (Emerson Systems, a highly successful company), the social obligations foisted upon him by being Charles Emerson's only son, and a vigilante begin to take their toll.
It's Edna's idea that he seek a partner. He finds one in the middle of a street-fight between an entire gang and one brash boy: Mark Ruffele, the very picture of determination. Sander knows a diamond-in-the-rough when he sees one, and allows (a very demanding and vocal fourteen-year-old) Mark to push him into accepting a student. Mark, for his part, has a vendetta against the gangs who rule the housing projects of the upper west side of Portston; impoverished, Mark's mother had turned to prostitution to take care of her young son, and the Bloods were her patron. From one of them, she contracted HIV. Only three years into Mark and Sander's partnership, she dies from an AIDS-related illness. With no family to contact and no where to go but the Astor Children's Home, Mark is taken in by Edna and Sander, so he can continue his training.
Nine more months would see the debut of Shadow, a young but impressive vigilante with a powerful repertoire of moves and a muted grey-on-grey armored suit. He and Nightwalker fight together through thick and thin, uninterrupted for eight years. Still under Sander's roof, Mark realizes that he is in love with Sander when he's sixteen. Sander doesn't return those feelings, or perhaps won't let himself, until Mark leaves for college in the middle of the city. They are both equally horrified by their separate revelations, and decide to take similar courses of action: push emotion to the background, say nothing, and preserve the well-oiled, crime-fighting, business-running partnership. As these things will, however, the feelings eat at both of them, pushing them into fight after fight until the situation at home becomes so unlivable that Mark realizes he needs time away -- both from Sander and from Nightwalker -- to sort himself out. He studies abroad for a year, retracing the steps that Sander took as he became Nightwalker, trying to find out who Mark was among the rubble of double identities, covers, and lies.
While Mark is gone, and at Shadow's prompting, Nightwalker begins to train Christian Evans, a boy who he almost routinely stumbled upon at night, attempting to learn how to be a vigilante. With Christian, however, came Elizabeth Evans, Chris' twin sister. Calling themselves the Gemini, the twins train in Shadow's stead but cannot fill the void he has left, and Mark's year abroad leaves Sander a bitter, unpleasant man. The time apart gives each man -- Sander/Nightwalker and Mark/Shadow -- time to realize how essential the other is to each of their halves (because double-identities are never uncomplicated). Mark, for his part, comes to realize that if he doesn't speak to Sander, he'll always resent the other man for not loving him back. Upon his return, he forces Sander into a conversation, begging Sander to tell him he doesn't feel that way, just so they can get it over with. Sander doesn't quite have the reaction Mark anticipated.
This brief excerpt occurs about two years after their relationship begins. The Gemini are fully trained and running their own patrol. Nightwalker and his team are in the (likely temporary) good graces of the police department, and the notorious terrorist Stu Matheson (a raving lunatic and bomb-building genius) is on the loose.
On a dark summer night, somewhere in Portston . . .
“Copy,” he murmured, scanning the horizon for any sign of activity.
“Police lines are humming. Matheson and some buddies.”
“Where?” Shadow asked.
“Docks. You can’t miss it.”
“Gimme the run down,” Shadow said, grappling off the roof, swinging towards the west side of town.
“The muscle got a hold of some cops. They’re in a building that’s about to blow. Bomb squad is in there, but say they can’t do much.”
“They can’t get the cops out?” Shadow asked, running across another building before diving again, swinging around a flagpole to land on a fire escape on the other side of the street.
“You know how Matheson works,” Nightwalker growled.
“So they’re cuffed to the bomb,” Shadow mused, launching himself up the fire escape and sprinting across the top of the building.
“Rendezvous at the old meat packing factory.”
“Couldn’t I just meet you there?” Shadow asked, vaulting himself up onto another roof.
“No. It’s too neat. The entire block is swarming with S.W.A.T. teams.”
“You think it’s a trap,” Shadow said, chewing his lip as the meat packing factory came into view on the horizon.
“I have a feeling.”
“Alright. Where are the Gemini?”
“On standby.”
“Too many cooks?” Shadow asked, swinging up onto the roof of the factory.
“Something like that,” Nightwalker said, melting out of the shadows. A click sounded in Shadow’s ear as their link closed.
“Game plan?” Shadow asked, striding towards the hooded man.
“I’ll diffuse. I need you to scout the surrounding area.”
“For Matheson? His mooks?”
“Possibly.”
“Another bomb,” Shadow said. “You think there’s another bomb. A couple cops are nothing – he’s trying to take out the whole task force that’s there right now, isn’t he?”
“You’ll have to evacuate them first.”
“Alright,” Shadow sighed. “Let’s roll.”
In a blink, Nightwalker was gone, disappearing off the edge of the building to make his way into the building with the bomb. He had been right; it would have been utterly impossible to miss the commotion; lights and sirens, truckloads of people, S.W.A.T teams and cop cars and plainclothes detectives were swarming on the scene. The streets were shut, crowded by ambulances and fire trucks.
They’ll never learn. Shadow shook his head, running towards the edge of the building before executing a showy dive, catching the window-ledge of the building next to the meat packing factory and vaulting himself down on top of one of the ambulances. Startled shouts alerted anyone who hadn’t seen his entrance; suddenly, way more handguns than he was comfortable with were trained on his person.
“There’s another bomb somewhere on this building bloc,” Shadow said without preamble, keeping his hands far enough away from his sides so as not to attract suspicion. “We don’t yet know where it is, but we need you all to evacuate.”
“Shadow,” the Police Chief said, rushing towards the ambulance.
“Chief, you gotta tell your guys to get out – this is a set-up,” Shadow repeated.
“My son’s in there,” the Chief replied, gesturing towards the building that held the known bomb.
Well, damn. “I don’t doubt they’re trying to bring you down low by targeting your family, but they’re trying to take out a lot more men and women than the ones who are in there,” Shadow replied, gesturing to the building. “I need you guys to start making for the docks. You’ll be near enough to help if we can’t get to the second one in time, but you won’t be in danger. We don’t know how much time we have – you guys have gotta move.”
The Chief looked up at Shadow for a long moment before turning towards the swarm of men and women around him. “You heard him – let’s move!” he commanded, turning back to Shadow to ask a question. The ambulance was empty.
Shadow had grappled his way onto a fire escape. He needed to get back up to the top of the meat packing factory to get another look at the lay of the land. If Matheson had wanted to do a number on the force, no matter what his reason, he must have known the way they would spread themselves around the building the first bomb was in. If he could get a good vantage point, then he could determine the best placement for the bomb, and hopefully find it before it went off.
Shadow scaled the fire escape nimbly, hopping easily up to the top of the roof of the first building. He vaulted himself across an alleyway to a shorter building, running across the roof before firing his grapple again, using the elasticity of the line to launch himself up onto the roof of the meat packing building. He spared a glance for the building that Nightwalker had run into. A click sounded in his ear.
“Great minds think alike; I was about to check in on you,” he said.
“We were right. This was a decoy; deadly but localized. There’s bound to be something bigger. Get to the top of the meat packing warehouse.”
“Here already. What’s your location?”
“Fourth floor, south-east side,” Nightwalker replied.
“The police were pretty patterned in the way they surrounded the building. If Matheson was looking for a big blow, all he’d need is for one of these buildings to collapse. It’d be carnage.”
“There are four immediately surrounding the street that was blocked off.”
“They’re all the same height. North, south – it wouldn’t matter. Building materials are brick and stone, respectively. I don’t see where the preference would be. Maybe he planted them in all four?” Shadow speculated.
“Not his style,” Nightwalker said.
“He always was more about finesse. Speaking of which, how’s it going?”
“Slowly. There are too many wires. Usually Matheson’s designs aren’t this complex. The evacuation?”
“They’re hoofin’ it. Chief looked like he’d been sucker punched when I told him what the story was. His kid’s in with you right now.”
“I know. He let it cloud his judgment.”
“Clearly. Or, well, not so clearly, depending on what exactly you’re talking about. But – oh shit,” Shadow said, the answer coming to him suddenly as he peered at the street below him.
“Shadow?” Nightwalker asked, the growl somewhat urgent.
“A gas line runs right under this street,” Shadow said, tearing across the roof and diving off of the building, sending out a grapple to slow his fall. He hit the ground running, flying towards the first manhole he could find.
“He’s going to take out the road. Of course,” Nightwalker said. There was a pause. “Shadow, these wires are going to trip that line.”
“I’m on it.”
“I have fifteen seconds on the clock. I need to diffuse.”
“Do it,” Shadow said through gritted teeth, almost at his destination.
Nightwalker’s growl came through, sounding slightly panicked. “There are too many extra wires – they must be linked. The bomb in the gas-line might go when this is diffused. Get out of there, now.”
“Shit. Okay,” Shadow said, shooting a grapple up to the top of the building where Nightwalker was working. Just as his feet left the ground, the blast hit.
He was airborne, but not on the line – he had no idea where the line had gone. He flailed, attempting to gain his bearings but had no clue which end was up and which was down. Suddenly, he saw the concrete rising up to meet him. He tucked his head, attempting to roll, but was thrown off course by asphalt debris, which hit him solidly in the side. He felt a sudden burn on his face before landing, then everything went black.
Nightwalker rushed to the window, willpower the only thing keeping him from diving out into the middle of the blast to help his Shadow. He saw a flash of grey-on-grey, but it was gone in an instant. He gripped the windowsill as a second explosion rocked the buildings further down the street, asphalt and debris flying everywhere. The local building structures remained intact. Shadow had been right; the gas-line had blown, meant to compromise only the assembled police forces. He clicked open his comm.
“Gemini,” he snapped out tersely, turning to level a glare at the Chief’s son, who had the grace to look terrified.
“Gotcha,” Ni said.
“Docks. Now.”
“What’s up, Walks?” Gem called.
“Shadow’s down, there was an explosion, Matheson’s work. I’m going in after him. I need you to get here ASAP.”
“We’re there,” they assured him in perfect unison. The comm. clicked shut.
“The police will be here shortly,” Nightwalker growled at the four police officers, hopping up to the window ledge.
“Is Shadow . . .” the Chief’s son asked hesitantly. Nightwalker held his gaze for a moment before leaping backwards out of the building, catching the fire escape and flipping himself down the four stories to land solidly on the burning rubble that once had been the street Shadow was running along. Nightwalker clicked his comm. on.
“Shadow, do you copy?” he growled, breathing heavily against the panic as he ran in the direction the blast must have sent him. The line was active, but there was no answer. “Shadow, do you copy?” He growled, scaling the rubble, desperately sliding over the hot asphalt, heading westward. “X, do you copy?”
“Copy, Nightwalker. I’m trying to get a trace as we speak.”
“Good. Did you see where the blast carried him?”
“No, ShadowCam is out.”
“He must have sustained damage to the face,” Nightwalker said, breathing through the panic as he scrambled through the decimated street.
“I don’t know, Nightwalker,” X said. Nightwalker could hear the slight tremble in her voice.
“Shadow, do you copy?” Nightwalker tried again. Silence. He looked up sharply at the commotion; sirens were approaching, stopping at the edge of the rubble. “X, we’re running out of time. Do you have the trace?”
“It’s weak, but there. He should be about fifteen meters in front of you, looking west-north-west,” X delivered.
“Can you get a visual?” Nightwalker asked.
“Calling up feed from the nearest camera. I’ve got bird’s eye . . . I can see a gauntlet! You’re almost there. Do you see him?”
“Yes, I have him. Shadow, do you copy?” Nightwalker rushed towards the gauntleted arm, sticking up awkwardly out of the rubble. “Shadow?” he asked, no longer in need of the comm. system as he reached the spot where his partner lay. Frantically, he clawed at the debris covering the other man’s body. He hadn’t been buried deeply, but his mask had been torn off, and he had a cut on his cheekbone.
“Shadow?” he asked hoarsely, feeling for a pulse. “Mark?”
He got no response. He immediately started CPR, pinching Mark’s nose and forcing air in through his lungs. After one, two, three breaths, Mark wheezed, letting out a weak cough.
“Mark,” Sander said, pulling back, cradling the back of his head in his left hand, cupping his lover’s cheek with his right.
“S-San—” Mark managed, gasping for breath.
“Shhh, breathe,” Nightwalker said, shutting his eyes tightly and cradling the dark head to his armored chest.
“Oh thank God,” X’s voice sounded over the comm.
After a moment of wheezing, Mark attempted to speak again. “Walker,” he managed. Nightwalker bent to press a fervent kiss to his partner’s brow.
“Where are you hurt?” he asked.
“Everywhere,” Mark wheezed with a slight smile.
“Broken bones? Internal damage?” Nightwalker asked.
“Don’t think so,” Mark shook his head.
“Nightwalker!” called the Chief, scrambling for purchase, dangerously close. Nightwalker stood immediately, swirling his cape protectively around his partner.
“Stay back,” Nightwalker growled.
“He needs medical attention, if he was caught in that blast,” said an EMT. Nightwalker counted the members of the S.W.A.T. team surrounding the Chief, followed by several EMTs, carrying medical equipment.
“Stay back,” he glared.
“Nightwalker, I’m not holding any weapons,” said one of the plainclothes detectives, stepping forward slowly. “I’m only here for the protection of the EMT, and to see that Shadow gets medical care.”
In a flash, Nightwalker had drawn his staff, twirling between them menacingly.
“Stay away from my partner,” he threatened.
“You won’t be able to move him,” the EMT said slowly, as though trying to reason with someone who belonged in Leonard-Bleucher. “He’ll have broken bones and possibly internal injuries. It’s best if he comes with us.”
“Come any closer, and you will be in need of medical attention,” Nightwalker rasped, narrowing his eyes. He watched the EMT’s throat move as he swallowed.
“Two on one? That’s hardly fair!” called Ni, leaping off of the fire escape to land between the detective and Nightwalker, arms raised.
“Hey, lookie what we found!” Gem called, swinging into the fray with a body slung over his shoulder. He dropped the cuffed and struggling man flat on his back in front of the Chief. The detective took a step away from Ni and turned, shocked to see the other Gemini right behind him.
“Matheson,” the Chief said, grimly. “You’re lucky the Gemini got you on their way here. Nightwalker would have been out for you, tonight. We all would have. And you wouldn’t be in the shape you are now, if either one of us had gotten to you first.”
“Go ahead, send me back to City Island,” Matheson spat, struggling against his bonds, “my job is done. I can collect my reward, and it’s all golden.”
“What job?” the Chief asked, advancing towards the bound man as the Gemini moved to flank Nightwalker. With a nod to the twins, Nightwalker collapsed his staff and bent down, drawing his cape around Shadow and himself, keeping Mark’s face covered from prying eyes.
“The Gemini nailed Matheson?” Mark asked. His voice was still hoarse, but he sounded far better than he had.
“They caught him making a run for it on the way here.”
“Good idea, sending them after him. He always sticks around to see the damage he does,” Mark nodded, wincing slightly as Nightwalker pressed down on his ribs, checking for injuries. “That’s gonna bruise.”
“It’s not broken,” Nightwalker rasped, something like relief in his voice. “The Gemini can take the credit for catching Matheson, however. I just told them to get here.”
“What?” Mark asked as Nightwalker continued checking him for any major contusions. Though the insulation of Nightwalker’s cape, he heard Matheson’s cackle.
“Bet he didn’t even know what hit him!”
Nightwalker tensed.
“Wait, all of this?” Mark asked, trailing off.
“What’s Old Spooky gonna do without his partner, huh?” Matheson spat, grinning widely at the Gemini. They exchanged looks.
“Oh,” Mark breathed, feeling something clench at his heart as Nightwalker finished checking him for major injuries. “You gotta go for the perp first, Walker.”
“I know,” Nightwalker said, moving a gauntleted hand up to cup Mark’s cheek again. “Can you move?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Mark said, rolling to one side and finding it far easier than he would have thought.
Matheson’s ravings rose in volume again. “Serves the little bastard right. What are all of you gonna do, without your Shadow lurking in the shadows?”
“I think I was just winded,” Mark said, feeling a little stiff and bruised, but not much worse for the wear; the suit had absorbed most of the impact. Thank God for Dyneema and SAPI.
“Shut yer hole,” said the detective, looking back and forth between the raving terrorist and the two vigilantes crouched behind the Gemini, completely obscured by Nightwalker’s cape.
“Are you sure?” Nightwalker asked.
“Yeah. I can even reach my extra mask,” Mark said with a smirk, twisting to unzip the compartment on the right side of his back. Nightwalker already had the spray-can out, and squirted the mask with adhesive solution.
“That explains why ShadowCam went dead,” he said quietly.
“Oh. Walker–”
“Later,” Nightwalker said.
“Old Spooky’s little boy’s never gonna haunt the streets again, is he? And it’s all your damn fault Chief, ain’t it? Old Spooky ain’t gonna forgive your kid for getting his ass caught, will he?” Matheson laughed.
“Take him away,” the Chief said, sending a worried glance over towards the Gemini, who met his gaze levelly, giving away no hints. Behind him, his troops murmured to one another. Shadow, dead? Was it possible? Would Nightwalker want revenge?
“I have an idea,” Shadow said, smirking. Nightwalker rubbed at the clotting cut on his cheekbone with a gauntleted thumb.
“Hm,” he replied. It was only their close proximity that allowed Shadow to see his partner’s smirk.
“Give up Spooks, he’s gone,” Matheson shouted at Nightwalker, struggling against the two officers who came to take him towards one of the squad cars.
With a swirl of his cape, Nightwalker stood, backing abruptly out of the way as Shadow sprung himself off of the ground, releasing a dull star midair. The star caught Matheson upside the head with just enough force to give him a nasty knock.
“What the—” Matheson thrashed against the two cops holding him, turning to see the smirking vigilante – the death of whom he had been gloating about – standing next to ‘Old Spooky’, arms folded, looking like he meant business.
“You bastard! You little fucking bastard!” Matheson shouted, bucking against the grip of the officers.
“Takes a lot more than one of your little toys to take me out, Matheson,” Shadow grinned, meeting the astonished gazes of the detective, EMT, and Chief Morone.
“Yo Walks, we’re out, gotta head east,” the Gemini said, grinning at their ‘big brother’, patting him on the shoulder before releasing their grapples and sailing off into the night sky. Nightwalker turned to regard Shadow. Shadow raised one eyebrow, the movement visible even underneath the mask.
“I’ve got a patrol to finish. Catch you later,” he said, saluting the Chief before grappling off towards the meat packing building. The Chief watched the effortless acrobatics of the vigilante they had all assumed was dead with a mixture of awe and disbelief.
“Nightwalker,” the Chief said, staring levelly at the vigilante. “Thank you for saving my son’s life.”
Nightwalker turned to leave soundlessly, raising the arm with the grapple-gun, now quite visible by the lights of all of the squad cars.
“It would have . . .” Morone continued, heartened as the vigilante hesitated. “If Shadow hadn’t . . .” he sighed, unsure what he was even trying to say to the caped man. He knew they were no more than men, but after seeing Shadow’s miraculous recovery, he knew that his subordinates would talk. Good. Let their heroes become legends. They deserved as much, for all they did. “I thought, the way you spoke to the EMT . . .”
Nightwalker turned, watching the bumbling Chief with some amount of sympathy for the first time that evening. He, too, had almost lost a loved one.
“The blast ripped off Shadow’s mask,” Nightwalker said simply.
“Oh,” the Chief said dumbly.
“Good night, Chief,” Nightwalker said, raising his arm again, shooting out a line, and disappearing into the night.
“You could give a man a heart attack,” Morone said, picking up the papers and glancing at them. “Trying to get Matheson moved out of Leonard-Bleucher and back to City Island?”
“It’s where he belongs. We all know that Matheson’s buddies paid off the defense’s consultant.”
“You’d be better off bringing this to Kuo’s office, you know,” the Chief said. “I can’t do much to prosecute – all I can do is testify about this last run-in.”
“I already paid a visit to Kuo earlier this evening. She seemed . . . interested,” Shadow said, cocking his head. Morone huffed out a short laugh.
“She was a good appointment, for you and me and everyone concerned. Adrian’s a bulldog. If you bring in the bad boys, she’ll prosecute ‘em.”
“A brave DA is exactly what we need. I hope she knows the position she’s putting herself in. We’ll take care of her, but we can’t always be watching,” Shadow said. Morone blinked. The vigilantes were giving the DA their protection? That was interesting.
“I think she’s aware. Don’t know if you’ve ever met Adrian, but she’s got balls of steel,” the Chief answered.
“If that’s what it takes.” It looked like Shadow had shrugged slightly, but the Chief couldn’t be sure. Under all of that armor, and mostly obscured by darkness, it was difficult to make any definite decisions about what the other man looked like. The Chief blinked. He had gotten a pretty good look the other day, though, when they’d all thought the vigilante had been killed in Matheson’s little blast. Black hair, pale skin – that’s all the mask revealed. He realized that Shadow had taken a step towards the window, and didn’t want the other man to leave so soon.
“Wait,” Morone said, holding up a hand. Shadow cocked his head, turning back to face the Chief. “I should have asked you how you were doing, when you first came in.” Shadow’s teeth were straight and white, bared in a smile that was almost predatory.
“Never better,” he answered, doing a handspring back up onto the windowsill, easily avoiding all of the potted plants.
“No one thought you could have survived that blast,” the Chief said, turning his chair to face the window.
“Matheson sure didn’t,” the vigilante replied, grin widening.
“I would have liked to tell Nightwalker that it would have killed me to see his son sacrifice himself to save mine,” Morone said, finally putting words to the nagging feeling he’d had since the night near the docks. Shadow jumped down from the windowsill.
“Didn’t we have this conversation a little while after I first put on the mask?” Shadow asked.
“I don’t . . .” Morone scrunched up his face, trying to remember what conversation the man in front of him was talking about.
“Nightwalker isn’t my father,” Shadow shrugged, taking a step backwards again, heading towards the window.
“I remember,” Morone said suddenly, stopping the vigilante’s movement. “You were just a kid when you started. I told you that if he was making you do this, if he was threatening you, you could come to me, and I’d protect you.”
“Got it in one,” Shadow grinned. “You missed the mark a little that time, though.”
“Can I ask you a question?” At Shadow’s silent nod, Morone continued. “How old were you when you started?”
“The first time you saw me?” Shadow asked, moving forward to hop up, perching easily in a comfortable squat on the corner of the Chief’s desk. “Fifteen.”
“Jesus,” Morone said, wiping a hand down his face. “My kid’s in his twenties, and I don’t want to see him out there. You’re my son’s age. Jesus. Can I ask you . . .” he trailed off.
“You can ask me anything you want, Chief, but I might not answer,” Shadow replied, reading the case files Morone had been studying upside-down.
“How’d you get into this business? How’d you fall in with a guy like Nightwalker?”
“You know better than anyone that Nightwalker’s just a man,” Shadow shrugged. “There are four of us now, and we all have our own reasons. If it eases your conscience any, I can tell you we all volunteered, even if some of us didn’t really know what we were getting into when we started.”
“You’re talking about the Gemini,” Morone said. “They’re young.”
“They’re good kids,” Shadow answered. Morone made a frustrated noise. Shadow cocked his head again, reaching across the desk to rearrange some of the case files in a more systematic order.
“I wish I understood.”
“Understood?” Shadow asked, squinting at the crime-scene photographs.
“The four of you. I know you’re close, but there’s always a piece missing, and to be honest, it bothers the hell out of me. I started out as a detective. When I can’t solve a puzzle because I’m overlooking a clue . . .”
“Being a bit of a detective myself – by the way, the chemical analysis on this is all wrong, you’d better check that out – I do understand what you’re talking about.” Morone looked up at the vigilante crouched on the corner of his desk, black hair tipping over the top of his mask, white lenses unblinking. This close, he could see the telltale signs of a five o’ clock shadow. He held in a huff of amusement at that thought.
“And you can’t tell me, I’m sure, because the only thing that could reassure me would be to know who Nightwalker was, to know what kind of a man he is,” the Chief said morosely.
“You know that he’s a good man, a brilliant, selfless, brave man. You know he cares about Portston and all of its inhabitants. You know he’ll die for her, but never kill for her. You know that several other good men and women have been drawn to him and his quest to fight the good fight.” Shadow flipped backwards off of the desk to stand upright again. “We’re family to each other. That’s all there is to it.”
A click sounded. Morone looked around, startled, before realizing that it had come from the vigilante. Due to his proximity and the quiet of the office, he realized that he could hear the communicator that he had seen all four vigilantes use at some point.
“I copy,” Shadow said, smiling slightly as he watched the Chief’s reaction.
“We are bored, man,” Gem’s voice rang through the comm. first.
“Done with patrol already?” Shadow asked.
“It’s quiet. A couple purse snatchings, a mugging, and one break-and-enter, but other than that, nothing. Come hang out with us, we’re bored,” Ni affirmed.
“I’m finishing some business,” Shadow replied, observing the Chief’s interest in the conversation.
“What if we said we’d buy you ice cream?” Gem asked.
“Are you trying to bribe me?”
“Ohhh yeah,” Gem replied.
“I might be persuaded. Ben and Jerry’s?”
“This line is not for casual conversation,” Nightwalker’s growl cut through the air. Morone raised his eyebrows, recognizing the rasp of the vigilante on the line.
“How are the docks looking?” Shadow asked, leaning his hip against the desk. Morone’s gaze fell downwards, studying the compartments on the belt and the heavily armored plates visible underneath the stretch of the leggings.
“Quiet.”
“So? Come back to midtown,” Shadow suggested, picking up one of the files on Morone’s desk and studying it.
“I’m not convinced there won’t be work to do here at some point this evening,” Nightwalker replied.
“Okay, whatever Mr. Killjoy, but the three of us are getting ice cream,” Ni said. Morone let out a quiet huff of laughter. Shadow raised an eyebrow.
“Gemini,” Nightwalker said, almost warningly.
“Honestly, Walks. If you’re tied up, we can make a delivery, but seriously, lighten up a little. It’s still way baking hot out – no one’s running drugs tonight,” Gem said.
“Gemini offered to treat,” Shadow added.
“Did they? Well, that’s a different story,” Nightwalker said, the voice losing some of its rasp. Shadow watched the surprise cross Morone’s features.
“Meet you at Jacoby in twenty, Gem out.”
“Nightwalker, you want rainbow sherbert?” Ni asked.
“Affirmative,” Nightwalker said. Morone actually snickered.
“Shadow?” she asked.
“Get me a pint of half-baked this time,” Shadow answered.
“That will sit like a rock in your stomach,” Nightwalker warned.
“Quiet night, right?” Shadow asked, tossing the file back on the Chief’s desk and tapping an important clue with one gauntleted finger. Morone made a noise that sounded something like ‘eureka!’.
“Watch your back, Shadow. The Man will make you do all sorts of crazy stunts if you overeat,” Ni cautioned. “Ni out.”
“What’s your location?” Nightwalker asked.
“Chief’s office,” Shadow answered.
“Say ‘hi’ for me.” Morone didn’t miss the sarcasm. “Jacoby in five?”
“Thought you were at docks,” Shadow replied, glancing out the window.
“I started moving as soon as I heard you three talking.”
Shadow laughed. “God, you are such a bastard sometimes.” Morone blinked.
“So you keep telling me. Jacoby in four and a half?”
“Alright,” Shadow said, turning and saluting the Chief elaborately, “race you.”
With that, Shadow disappeared out the window, laughter fading off into the distance as he dove off of the ledge and grappled through the city towards the Jacoby building. Morone shook his head slightly, looking down at the case file. Shadow had picked up on the clue in the file that he had overlooked over, and over again. Maybe that should tell him something about the clues he had missed regarding Nightwalker and Shadow’s partnership, and the new careers of the Gemini.
He grinned, looking up from his case notes to stare out the window. ‘Mr. Killjoy’? Rainbow sherbert? He wondered how Nightwalker would take it if the Police Chief started teasing him when their paths crossed at night.
He was about to find out.
