by Ammar Habib
“I know.”
“You call him back?”
“He invited me out for dinner tonight at 8:30.”
“You going?”
“Reluctantly. There are more important things to do than waste an hour in a restaurant. While I’m away for even an hour, a lot of good people can get hurt.”
“You deserve an hour off if anybody does. If it was up to me, I’d have you take the whole night off.”
“You know that will never happen. Jonathan asked if you’d come.”
“I need to work on the new weapons tonight.”
Ethan nodded. “Fair enough. Did you set up the meet for tonight?”
“They’ll be waiting when you get there. Eleven ‘o’clock is when both parties will arrive.”
“What are they coming under the premise of?”
“Blaine’s group thinks that Valdez called them and Valdez’s group thinks that Blaine called them supposedly to discuss how to finally take you out.”
“Looks like I’ll have a full night then,” Ethan commented.
“Certainly shaping up to be. You sure you don’t need me there?”
“I can handle it. After you finish working on the weapons, I have one more assignment for you. I need you to do a background check on Villanueva.”
“I thought the computer is already doing that?”
“I want you to take a look as well. See if he has any motives for donating several hundred million dollars to our charities. I want you to find out if he’s doing this to win the hearts of more people for the inevitable election or if he’s actually doing this with a pure heart.”
“Is that why he wanted to meet with you today?”
Ethan replied with a nod.
William’s gaze drifted to a picture sitting on Ethan’s desk. Next to the recorder sat two framed pictures. One held a picture of Ethan’s father, Brett, taken just two months before he died. And in a golden frame, that always seemed to captivate Ethan’s attention, was a picture of Katrina. Each strand of her long, black, silk-like hair seemed to be in the perfect place. Her fair skin and slender figure were complimented by the yellow sundress she wore as she sat on the grass alongside the flowers in her backyard.
“You talk to her since she left?” William asked, but then suddenly regretting bringing her name up.
For a brief moment, Ethan’s face look strained.
“It’s been two years—I see you’re not wearing the ring she sent you.”
Ethan did not reply.
“Does it ever bother you? Doing what we do? All the killing. All the…loneliness?”
“Maybe the first time…but after a while it’s second nature. After a while…I don’t even realize I’m missing something anymore. Or realize I’m missing a part of my soul and that I’ve lost the best part of me—my innocence.” He paused for a moment. “After the first…it’s too late. It’s too late because the darkness has been penetrated. And it’s already consumed within…me.”
***
Ethan looked across the table at his brother and sister-in-law. The trio sat at a table that was covered in an expensive white tablecloth. Surrounding tables were occupied by other members of Crown City’s landed gentry. However, the restaurant was mostly empty.
The waiters were dressed in their red vests and black pants as they went from table to table taking orders. Soft music played in the background, attempting to ease the minds of the restaurant’s patrons.
Cathy leisurely ate the fresh cut Caesar salad while Jonathan looked toward his younger brother. “You look tired Ethan.”
Ethan replied with a smile. “What gave me away?”
“Do you want me to list them in alphabetical order?”
Ethan’s smile waned. “Haven’t had much downtime.”
Jonathan perceptively nodded, knowing what his brother meant. “I can only imagine. I’ve been absolutely swamped myself, and all I have to worry about is managing the companies. You have to take care of the charities too.”
Cathy swallowed her bite. “By the way, how’s William doing? You should have had him come out.”
“He was working tonight, but he’s doing good. Keeping himself busy.”
“I actually saw him a couple of days ago,” Jonathan remarked. “He stopped by my office to drop off some numbers. He was in a hurry though.”
“He’s certainly in high demand right now.”
“And have you heard from Bradley lately?” Jonathan asked.
“He’s still running the business from Lakeville. Still says he won’t return until things die down in Crown City.”
“No telling how long that’ll be. Have you looked over the numbers I faxed over to your office today? Some of the transactions you’ve been making have caused a few of the accountants to scratch their heads.”
“I’m not surprised,” Ethan responded with a little sarcasm.
“They were pretty confused several and were asking a lot of questions. I took care of it though.”
“I owe you. I really can’t thank you enough for all the work you do.”
“I’m just worried about you, Ethan. You’re always working.”
“It’s only for a little bit longer.”
Jonathan understandingly nodded. “The sooner it all ends the better….” His tone turned a little bit more jovial. “Anyways, I was visiting the Westside Home and the boys over there were asking when you’ll be visiting again. Apparently you never finished telling them a story or something.”
Ethan smiled upon hearing those words. “I’ll try to make it next week for a few minutes.”
“They’ll be glad to hear that.”
Ethan turned to Cathy as she spoke again. “Have you seen Charles’ grandson lately? What was his name again?”
Ethan shook his head at the mention of his deceased business partner. “Mark. And no, I haven’t seen him since he sold me his half of the firm two years ago.”
“I wonder why he’s being so distant.”
“He took Charles’ death pretty hard. They were close.”
There was a brief, awkward silence. Just the mention of Charles reminded every one of them about the man they had all lost only a little over two years ago: Ethan’s and Jonathan’s father, Brett. They tried not to mention his name much, if at all, but every conversation seemed to lead back to him. Every time they met, seeing the fourth chair empty was a constant reminder of the loss of their father at the hands of Anthony Griffin.
“Yeah, I’m sure they were,” Jonathan softly replied.
More silence.
Although varied conversations continued, Ethan was on auto-pilot. His mind was somewhere else, on something else—something darker, and it began to completely consume his thoughts.
Tonight, he was going to war.
Chapter 5
Broken Dreams
Standing on the porch of Zimba’s Southside Home for Girls, Katrina smiled at Bernice, the home’s director. Bernice was holding the screen door open with one hand, while her other hand motioned in sync with the words that spilled out of her mouth. She was known to be a talker. Too often Katrina’s visits to the home were met with the task of having to listen to Bernice chatter on and on about this and that. Today’s visit would be no different. Katrina figured that although Bernice was surrounded by children, she was void of any meaningful adult company and conversation.
“Thank you so much for stopping by, Katrina. The girls always love seeing you,” Katrina heard Bernice say as her mind drifted on ways to escape more conversation that usually contained a barrage of questions she either could not answer nor wanted to.
Ivan stoically stood next to the vehicle, a black BMW, patiently waiting for Katrina to finish her conversation with Bernice. His view went back and forth between the two conversing ladies and the countless young girls from the orphanage. All dressed in their bright colored dresses, seemingly without a care, the girls played on the freshly cut grass in front of the two-story building that stood covered in a fresh coat of
off-white paint.
“It’s always my pleasure to come and visit with the girls, Bernice.”
“Did you hear that Mr. Daniels has given us another lump sum amount this year? He had already increased the amount that we were receiving from his foundation on the month-to-month basis, but he gave an extra bonus on top of that. And it was not just us. He gave it to all the orphanages and shelters that he is in charge of from what I hear.”
“I did hear. Martha had mentioned it to me.”
“When his grandfather was alive, I could not imagine anybody being more generous than David. But now, now David’s grandson seems to have put every person’s interests before his own.”
The more Bernice spoke of Ethan, the more somber Katrina became. But like always, she kept her composure. “Ethan does have a heart of gold. He’s taken responsibility for millions of people.”
“He has a good heart…and I understand he’s not the only one. From what I hear, you yourself make very generous donations to his foundation on the regular basis.”
“I do what I can.”
“You’re as humble as your own grandfather. From what I hear of Ethan, it seems like he’s stretched thin. You know, he has yet to come down and visit us. His brother comes on the regular basis, but Ethan has yet to set eyes on what he has built here.”
“I think he trusts you enough that he doesn’t feel the need to see it for himself.”
“Is that why you try to visit all of his foundations here in Zimba? To make up for his absence?”
“That may be part of the reason. But…but mainly, I like to think that I was blessed with everything I have so that I can turn around and give back to others.”
Bernice’s smile slightly grew. “Then you really do have a heart of gold, Katrina.”
Katrina smiled.
“But next time you speak to Ethan, please let him know that the girls would love to meet him soon.”
“Oh. I certainly will.”
“Do you think he will visit soon?”
“Yes.”
“Did he tell you?”
“No.” Katrina paused for a moment. “But I have faith.”
***
It was a little past nine o’clock when Ethan returned to his lavish penthouse. With a fluid movement, he slung off his sport coat, tossing it onto the wooden chair that rested next to the elevator doors. Within seconds, he quickly made his way through the massive abode, almost sprinting. Entering his master bedroom, he saw the brown briefcase resting on his bed just as he had left it.
Ethan had almost forgotten about the briefcase’s existence until this morning when he had rediscovered it before leaving to meet with Villanueva. Seeing the briefcase again after all these years instantly brought back memories of his grandfather and the letter.
The briefcase contained a letter written by his grandfather when he adopted Ethan into his care. Ethan recalled seeing his grandfather with it a few times when he was young. He remembered his grandfather reading the letter to himself, but quickly tucking it away whenever he saw Ethan.
For one reason or another, Ethan had never brought himself around to reading the letter. Maybe it was fear of being overwhelmed with emotion. But after seeing it today, he could not stop thinking about it. Maybe it was time…
Slowly, he unfolded the paper, careful not to damage the letter as he revealed its contents to his weary eyes.
And he read his grandfather’s words.
***
They were all armed. And they were not hiding it.
Only a few yards separated the two groups that totaled nearly twenty-five men as they stood face to face in what was at one time a flourishing church—once a place where people would gather to speak of peace and love; a place where people would come to seek out the truth; a place where people would feel safe. But that was no more. Now, it was a place that seemed to attract only low-life degenerates and criminals.
The two gangs stared at each other under the dim, flickering lights. Their unkempt appearance blended in with the dilapidated building’s broken, crumbling furniture and cracked walls that surrounded them. A few wore leather jackets while the rest wore tattered coats. Some were well-groomed, but most hadn’t taken a shower in days.
In the front of both packs were their leaders, eye-balling one another, staring motionless, and holding their semi-automatic pistols in one hand.
Finally, one of them spoke. “You want to get started, Valdez?”
“Started? You called us here, Blaine. Told me to bring my best muscle.”
Blaine’s eyes showed his slight confusion. “What the hell are you talking about? Your man called me today and said that there was something urgent you had to say. Something that could save both our lives.”
“My man?”
“He knew the code and everything.”
“Who was it?”
“Antonio.”
“Antonio’s been dead for two days.”
“…Dead? Who killed him?”
A voice came from the balcony. A cold voice they only ever heard in their deepest nightmares. “I’ll give you a hint.”
The room fell silent. Fear gripped their hearts. Slowly, they all looked wide-eyed at the unwanted prowler. It was the same killer who had slain so many of their comrades.
“You’re looking right at him!”
The Guardian looked down at those who feared him as he stood tall on the second floor’s balcony. Any expression was covered up by his dark red and black mask. His eyes showed no mercy, no compassion for those he had come to bring to justice. His dark gray, almost black cloak was hanging off of his shoulders covering his back. It went down to his feet, revealing his front. A hood of the same color was thrown over his head casting a dark shadow over his mask. His torso was covered in a fitted, maroon and black tactical suit that showed off his incredible build and strength. Two black stripes formed an ‘X’ on his torso as they went from his shoulders to the opposite ribs. On his feet were russet colored boots that went halfway to his knees. And on his hands were dark brown leather gloves that went almost to his elbows. Attached to his right glove was a loaded and readied wrist cable shooter. Around his waist was a black belt that housed numerous throwing knives and two long daggers.
The grips around the thugs’ weapons tightened as they saw The Guardian reach under his cloak. In an instant, their nightmare was reality. This was it. This was what they feared would come for them one day—a fight for their lives.
In an instant, the dim room lit up with gunfire. Every gangster took aim and let loose a fury of bullets. The gunfire drowned out the men’s curses and seemed to shake the church’s pillars.
The Guardian expertly leapt off of the broken balcony, dodging the flood of bullets. Kicking off of its railings, he gracefully soared above the crowd. And as his cloak flew behind him, it revealed the straps of throwing knives he wore around his waist, thighs, and forearms.
As the battle went underway, the words of his grandfather unexpectedly rang in his head.
When I heard that you had entered this world, I ran through the snow to find you. I ran to see the world’s new hope. I ran to see your face that would be full of life. The face that would bring happiness to so many.
While midair, The Guardian launched several throwing knives consecutively. They flew through the air faster than bullets and powerfully cut through their respective targets one right after the other. Throats and foreheads were split open as the sharp blades dug into the thugs. As The Guardian landed perfectly behind the gang, he heard the screams of his victims as they collapsed with a loud thud.
And when I held you in my arms, I could not believe what I saw. When I looked at your face, I saw joy. I saw happiness and innocence.
The Guardian charged at the army that stood against him. Their angry roars, curses, and gunfire consumed every crook and corner of the room. They emptied their clips trying to gun the prowler down, but not a single bullet touched him.
With a long, sharp dagger in each
hand, The Guardian came upon his first foe. His dagger ripped straight through the man’s stomach and came out through his spine. The gangster screamed in pain, but his attacker showed no remorse. With a powerful force, he lifted the gangster in the air with his dagger before wrenching out the weapon in time to avoid the next volley of bullets.
As I held you for the first time, I could feel your warmth. It was you who filled the entire room with warmth. And I knew one day you would fill the world with your warmth.
The Guardian slashed another thug’s throat. Blood spewed everywhere, much of it onto The Guardian without him even flinching.
I knew that this would be the smiling face that would bring hope to so many.
Turning around, The Guardian quickly dodged the attacks of two men who came at him from each side with switchblades in hand. They came at him again. One of their blades cut some of his cloak, but did not draw any blood. After dodging several blows, The Guardian swiftly stabbed both of them in the stomach simultaneously, and then yanked out his daggers without any hesitation. With deafening bellows, both thugs collapsed.
Another man came at the masked killer from behind. But The Guardian instinctively turned around just in time to block the man’s dagger with his own. The blades met with a loud clang. The Guardian parried away the next two attacks with ease before powerfully kicking him into a line of gunfire. The man’s body was riddled with bullets by the time he went down.
I knew that this would be the smiling face that would bring joyous laughter to the world.
Four gangsters suddenly shrieked as life left their body. As they reloaded their weapons, they were each cut down by multiple throwing knives. The projectiles dug into them all nearly simultaneously with loud thumps. Blood rushed out of their wounds as their bodies hit the hard floor.
Swiftly turning around, The Guardian faced off against three more gangsters. He parried the first man’s knife and sent him sprawling onto the ground with a strong backhand.
The second man would not be beaten so easily. Only three feet away, he aimed his gun at The Guardian. The trigger was pulled without any hesitation and the roar of gunfire rang through The Guardian’s ears. He almost sidestepped the first two bullets, but the third painfully went through his right arm, almost hitting his bone. The next bullet grazed his shoulder.
