Dark Guardian: Long Nights, Page 2

  There was no immediate response to Mason’s question. The officer silently watched The Guardian’s gaze scan the surroundings. The vigilante’s demeanor felt calculating, almost machine-like, as his eyes stayed on the corpse for a long moment. It was a woman. Young, fair-skinned, hardly even thirty. Lying on her back, her red hair was sprawled out as her hand rested atop of the bullet wound on her chest. Her palm was covered in her own blood while she wore a bathrobe over her nightgown.

  Finally, The Guardian lifted his gaze from the corpse and scanned the surroundings. The foyer was small for as big as the apartment was. The door remained unlocked. The potted plant and console table lingered untouched. So were the framed photos of the woman and a boy. Nothing was out of place… save for the corpse.

  The Guardian’s eyes set back onto Mason. “Who discovered the body?”

  Mason let out a sigh as he wiped his brow. “Her son. Poor kid. He’s not even 8-years-old. It was less than half an hour ago.”

  The Guardian was silent. Hearing those words, Ethan’s heart tightened. A gut-wrenching feeling consumed him as those words replayed in his head over and over and over again. The boy was there to see his mother’s corpse… just like him so many years ago. The worst way to become an orphan.

  Inquisitively looking at The Guardian, Mason was slow to speak. “…you okay?”

  There was no response as the masked vigilante kept his eyes on the body.

  “Uh…”

  The Guardian’s gaze suddenly came back onto the officer. “Where is the boy?”

  “I told my partner to take him away. He shouldn’t have to see this.”

  “The lady and boy lived here alone?”

  Mason slightly nodded. “According to the apartment documents. No pets, nothing. They’d been here for about a year.”

  “And before?”

  “Still getting all the details.” Mason glanced at the corpse. “Forensics is almost here.”

  “I need you to hold off your men.”

  “They’ll be here any minute.”

  “And they’ll contaminate the scene.”

  The officer immediately tensed up. “Contaminate? Who do you think—” Mason suddenly stopped mid-sentence as he stared at the expressionless mask that menacingly glared back at him. After a moment, he lowered his hands from his belt and simply nodded. “How long do you need?”

  “Ten minutes. And Mason.” The Guardian paused. “Make sure you take good care of the boy.”

  ***

  Mason left the room almost immediately and The Guardian got to work. He started with the corpse, letting his gaze and mind linger on every detail there was.

  “Tell me what you’re seeing, Ethan?”

  Hearing William’s voice spill out of his earpiece, Ethan kept his eyes intently on the woman. “I’m still evaluating. Victim is a young woman. Maybe 29-year-old. Caucasian. No chance of a suicide. No forced entry either. Door was unlocked when police arrived. She knew the killer enough to let them inside when they arrived unexpectedly. Let them get close to her.”

  “Unexpectedly?”

  “She hastily threw on this robe before answering the door.”

  “Think it was a professional hit?”

  Crouching over the body, Ethan gently removed the victim’s hand from the gun wound before hovering his gloved hand inches above the gash. “She was facing the shooter. Wasn’t alarmed and didn’t defend herself. Maybe she never had the chance. The gunman was close—close enough to shoot her from the hip after a quick-draw and still hit her accurately.”

  “So she knew him or her.”

  Ethan’s eyes locked with the corpse’s still and cold face. His hand followed his gaze until they were at the woman’s open eyes. With a gentle motion, he shut her eyelids and pushed some of the hair out of her face. “But even from this close, the bullet was a little off target. And it wasn’t a ‘him’ or ‘her’. It was a ‘them’.”

  “Them?”

  “Two men. I smell two colognes. Distinct.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Ethan ignored the question as he kept his eyes on the woman’s face and continued. “And the gun wound. It’s a Sig Saur P299. 9mm chamber.” Ethan paused. “Secret Service firearm.”

  “…secret service?”

  “Unless it’s a red-herring.”

  “You think there are any fingerprints?”

  “No. The killer shot off of his mark, but this isn’t his first murder.” Ethan’s eyes left the woman’s face and again went over her body. “He knew to get in close, kill her when she didn’t expect it. He came with the intention to kill and wouldn’t leave behind fingerprints.”

  “So it was a seasoned killer who had an off day?”

  “Maybe not.” Ethan’s hand again hung over her chest before slowly drifting down to her stomach where it stayed for a long moment.

  “The shooter he was off mark because… he hesitated at the last moment. Something happened—he learned something that made him hesitate. Think twice before pulling the trigger.”

  “And ideas?”

  “I…” Ethan paused. Rising to his feet, he kept his gaze on the corpse as his hand formed into a fist. After a long moment, he tore his gaze off of the woman’s corpse. “I need to go. And William?”

  “Yes?”

  “Find out where they’re holding the victim’s son.”

  ***

  Sitting in front of the lonely headquarters’ master computer, William stared at the three screens. As it normally was, the massive warehouse and base-of-operations remained mostly darkened except for a few lamps, leaving the screens’ illumination to be the only real light left to break the blackness that mirrored the night’s.

  He silently watched the reports flashing before him. It was news of the marches that shut down Crown City’s downtown district this past week. The marches against the government’s corruption were gaining traction every week. The burden they placed onto the nation’s economy would force the administration to cave in sooner or later to the demand of fair emergency elections. Even with the imposed Martial Law on Crown City, the military and police did not try dare breaking up the demonstrations, knowing that The Guardian protected them. After what happened to the general during the first week of the marches after he tried something, the rest of the officials got the message.

  Hearing a buzz, he touched his earpiece as Ethan’s voice came through. “I left the scene.”

  “What are we looking at, Ethan?”

  “Track the funds of public officials.”

  “Public or private?”

  “Both.”

  “What am I looking for?”

  “Out of the ordinary transfers. Big ones.”

  “So not the normal bribing. Just something new,” William sarcastically replied. As he spoke, he began punching into the keyboard, his eyes remaining glued to the mammoth, illuminated screen. “Was this job a political hit?”

  “I have my theories. Tell me what you find.”

  ***

  “How are you feeling?”

  The boy didn’t react when he heard the voice come from behind him. Not right away at least. Sitting on the bed in the small darkened room, he slowly turned around to arrive face-to-face with The Guardian. Concealed in his dark cloak and hood, the vigilante’s face was masked in shadows.

  Standing in front of the window and star-filled night, The Guardian gradually stayed there for a few, long moments to give the boy a chance to reply. He didn’t. So The Guardian took a seat next to the now orphaned-boy while keeping his gaze steadfast on him. The boy was smaller for his age. His face was colorless, hair a mess, while his clothes were drenched in sweat. And his eyes possessed the same paralyzed look that could not decide between shock and sorrow.

  “Your name is David, isn’t it?” The Guardian’s voice was not cold. Not right now. Instead, it was filled with understanding.

  At first there was again no response except for the blank stare. But then the boy slightly nodded, trembli
ng as he did.

  The Guardian lowered the hood, revealing his masked face to the boy. His voice was hesitant. “I’m… sorry about your mother. Truly.”

  David didn’t reply.

  A silence fell between them as their gazes stayed locked. The boy’s cheeks were a bit damp. There were no signs of abuse on him. But he seemed to be shrinking with every passing moment. Ethan wanted to tell the boy that he would find the one responsible, wanted to promise the boy justice. But he knew it would do no good. No amount of justice or solace can bring back the dead. So, he instead said what he could. “Do you want to be alone?”

  There was another moment of peace. But then the boy’s damn finally burst. Looking away, David began to tremble. His hand formed into a tight, quaking fist as he looked away. The quivering increased with every passing moment. “…yes… n—no… I d—don’t know.”

  Without thinking, The Guardian put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It’s okay… it’s okay to be sad. I know how it feels… the loneliness. The emptiness.”

  Suddenly bursting into tears, David threw his arms around The Guardian and pressed his face into the vigilante’s firm chest. His sobbing was uncontrollable, tears endless. “I—I m—miss her! I wa—want my mom b—back!”

  For a moment, Ethan was too shocked to react. But then he wrapped the boy in his protective arms. “I know, David. I know.”

  “I don’t know what to do!! I—I saw her—saw—”

  “Just take one step after the other, son. You have to do that for her. The… the body you saw… it wasn’t your mother. Your real mother lives in your heart now. She’ll stay with you forever if you let her.” Ethan paused, feeling the boy’s trembling slightly subside. “And I’ll stay here with you as long as you want.”

  Ethan remained with the boy. They didn’t say a word; they didn’t need to. He stayed with the boy through all the tears. Sat with him until David’s eyes ran dry. Watched over him when he finally fell asleep. And even when Ethan charged back into the cold, black night, a part of his soul stayed behind.

  ***

  In the cold warehouse, William silently checked the clips of his sniper rifle—an FN Tactical Rifle. The bolt-action, jet black rifle rested on the table in front of him as he did his work. There was a meeting Ethan had set up at the docks tonight between a couple of small street gangs under the premise of a turf trade. William would be paying them a visit. But even as he prepared for the assignment, his thoughts were not with him.

  This morning, he heard a voice coming from Ethan’s private quarters as his friend sat there. At first William didn’t recognize it, but after a moment he knew who it was: Katrina. Ethan was listening to a recording of her voice.

  He knew that Ethan had not spoken to her since she left a few months ago. Ethan did not even mention her. Whenever William brought her up, Ethan almost immediately shut him down. But William saw it in his friend’s eyes. Longing. Pain. An emotion beyond pining, beyond love.

  It was a sight that reminded William of himself after he left the army and his wife was killed—

  Hearing a sound erupt from the master computer, William dropped what he was doing and darted towards it. Arriving there, he took his seat and began quickly punching away at the keyboard. William ignored the decryption running on The Butler’s evidence as a box popped up on the screen followed by several more.

  Hurriedly grabbing his earpiece and putting it on, William hit the button on its side before speaking. “You there?”

  “…I read you.”

  “I got a hit. The transfers were small, scattered, and from a variety of accounts to avoid detection, but we picked it up.” The longer William stared at the screen, the wider his eyes became. “And you’re not going to believe this.”

  ***

  The limousine came to a screeching and violent halt as it crashed headfirst into the concrete divider in the middle of the nearly empty suspension bridge. Smoking from its damaged and crumpled hood, its front tire was punctured by a blade. Not even a foot from its front stood a figure that every soul in Crown City recognized: The Guardian. He remained still, unmoved as his cloak hung behind his shoulders and his hood covered his face.

  Standing erect and firm as the sun rose over the horizon behind him, his lethal eyes stared down the driver through the tinted window. The man’s head was bleeding after smashing into the dashboard, leaving him unconscious.

  The front passenger door suddenly flung open as a black suited bodyguard staggered out of the car. He hardly gained his footing before a boot violently caught his stomach. In the next instant, The Guardian grabbed him by the side of his skull and smashed him headfirst into the car before letting his body slump onto the concrete.

  Looking back up, The Guardian noticed the back door fly open as a middle-aged man climbed out of the seat. That man knew better than to wait inside. But he didn’t run. As soon as he was out of the vehicle, his eyes locked with The Guardian’s… and he froze in terror.

  His eyes daggers, The Guardian’s gaze dared the man to try something. “Good morning, senator.” The vigilante’s voice was cold. Heartless. It was the same voice The Butler had faced only hours ago. “My long night ends with you.”

  Horror—absolute horror—consumed the senator’s face. Stumbling backwards, he held his hands out in front of him as if that would stop The Guardian’s approach. Three steps in and the senator nearly lost his footing, unable to tear his gaze off of his attacker.

  “She didn’t fight you, did she? Not when your man drew out the gun. Not when she realized why you and your bodyguard had so unexpectedly shown up. Not even when your man aimed the gun at her heart. She didn’t scream. Didn’t beg. She didn’t even blink.”

  The Guardian took a step closer to the senator, continuing to back him up towards the bridge’s railing.

  “All for a child—an unborn child. You couldn’t let people find out that your secret lover was pregnant. Not with the election coming up.” With every step, The Guardian came closer. “Your shooter hesitated when he heard you say it at the last moment. He didn’t know a child was involved. Not until right before he pulled the trigger. Even with all the money you paid him to murder, he heart wasn’t as black as yours.”

  “S—stay ba—back!” The senator was nearing the railing. “I am a sen—”

  “She loved you. Loved you.” The Guardian’s hand curled into a tight fist. “But you killed her as if she meant nothing to you. And you left an 8-year-old boy to face this cruel world alone.”

  The senator’s back touched the railing, The Guardian only a few feet away.

  “People like you are why I exist. Why I don’t sleep. Why I don’t rest.”

  Roughly collapsing alongside the railing, tears formed in the senator’s eyes. “P—please, stay aw—”

  The Guardian violently grabbed the senator by his collar and menacingly drew him in close. “And people like you are why I will never stop.”

  ***

  As the morning sun continued to rise, Ethan sat on a high rooftop and watched day replace night. His mask was off of his face and in his hand. The senator was handled as was the agent who pulled the trigger. Ethan had received word from William that his task was completed as well.

  Observing the scenery, the same thought that entered his mind every sunrise once again seeped in. It was the thoughts of a love he craved for more than anything else… but was far away. He had given Katrina the ring on that bridge, but did not truly know if he would ever see the light of her face again.

  There was a sudden beep in his ear, which was quickly followed by William’s voice. “Night’s over.”

  Ethan kept his eyes on the daylight. “This one is.”

  “The evidence you brought from Butler is decrypted. We got the names of his buyers.”

  “Send them to me.”

  “I will.” William paused. “Something’s bothering you, Ethan.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “The fact that you’re actually ta
king a breather.”

  Ethan finally tore his gaze off of the sun. “…the boy, David. He lost his mother.”

  “You brought down the senator.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I… I grew up an orphan. I never knew my mother. And I became… this… to stop others from becoming orphans. But death and its wake of destruction just follow me wherever I go.” Ethan took a deep breath. “All of this… trying to save a city as lost as ours, it’s a fool’s dream, Will. Sometimes I think I should just be done with it.”

  There was a pause on the other end. “Perhaps that’s true. But they say there’s a correlation between the burden and purpose of a man.”

  After a long moment, Ethan slightly smiled.

  “Are you coming back in?”

  Ethan looked down at his mask. “I’ll look into those names you sent me. Then one more patrol.”

  “It’s always one more patrol.”

  “And it’ll stay that way. This night is over… but the war is only beginning.”

  Ethan’s story continues in:

  Dark Guardian

  &

  Dark Guardian:

  A New Dawn

  About the Author

  Ammar Habib is an award winning & bestselling author who presently resides in his hometown of Lake Jackson, Texas. Writing has always been a passion of Ammar’s. He enjoys crafting stories that are not only entertaining, but also have something useful to say to the reader.

  Other works by Ammar include:

  Dark Guardian

  Dark Guardian: A New Dawn

  Memories Of My Future

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