A Mocking Justice
1
Tyson Lewis was glad to have full use of his arm. It had been broken recently, and he had to get an emergency ward to look at it under an assumed name. He was a missing person, a runaway, and didn't want the hospital to call his parents to let them know where he was.
He enjoyed his independence, and the new life he had carved for himself after the attack he had suffered. He didn't fit his old life any more.
Tyson's arm had healed faster than he had expected, perhaps due to the mutation that he had undergone. That didn't matter. He had made an ally who had left him to take care of himself like he had wanted, instead of trying to force a decision on him. That meant something to the teenager.
Tyson waited in the shadows across the street from Pico's Arcade. While he was waiting for his arm to heal, things had gone on as business as usual. That meant a lot of things were going on that he had decided to stop with the use of his disguise of the Mocker, the shadow man.
Tyson had chosen a spot where he could see the door, and most of the street without obstruction. His ability to blend into the dark allowed him to stay on post without fearing anyone taking notice of him in his mismatched costume, and hockey mask.
Three members of the Street Sharks gang sauntered out of Pico's. They started down the street, laughing, waving their arms as they talked. The Mocker slid along the shadowy street behind them as he had done the night he broke his arm.
Tyson slid in closer, hiding in the shadows. He only wanted one of the Street Sharks. The other two could get away when he made his move. He could hunt them down later if he had to.
He only needed one to talk to at the moment.
Tyson smiled as he thought about his next move. He hoped it would be scary enough to get his quarry to open up. Some wouldn't because they feared someone more than they did a shadow man.
Tyson charged forward in the shadow, one hand wrapping around the guy's ankle. The Mocker's forward sprint jerked the gangster off his feet. He hit the sidewalk face first, arms and hands cushioning the blow. Then the shadows swallowed him up before his two buddies could react.
Tyson had veered into an alley to use a wall to climb to get to a roof so he could talk to his captive without any interference. Then he could decide what he would have to do next.
Tyson threw the street shark on the gravel hard enough to kick up a spray. He kept to the shadows, knowing he was faster in the dark than any normal street kid.
"I would like to know who the head shark is these days, and where I can find him," Tyson said.
"Got me, tough guy," the gangster said. "I don't anything about a head shark. Why don't you try the fish market?"
"I have been following you around," Tyson said. "I know about the drug drops, the girls, the guns. I'm willing to let you live, even let you get out of town and start over somewhere else if you give me what I want. If you don't, the cops will say you jumped out of remorse for your past crimes."
"No one will believe that," the shark said, getting to his feet so he could run when he had the chance.
"Sure they will. I have the note right here."
"If I give you something, I don't want to be mentioned that I talked," the shark said, sweat running down his dirty face.
"I'm listening," the Mocker said, smiling beneath his hockey mask.
2
Tyson Lewis stood a few blocks away from where he had been attacked, and injected with Alchemo's synthetic cocaine. The weasel he had grabbed gave him the name of one of the Street Sharks' new suppliers now that Ray Lampion was dead, and Stephen Mark was in jail. The Mocker hoped that man could give him more names that would lead him to other places in the underworld.
Tyson knew he wasn't alone in his crusade, even though it felt like that. Church Hill had another vigilante using the dark the papers called the Fear. He had slammed the door on some vicious guys since he started operating. Johnny Shield and the Leaguer were also getting some of the fish out of the pond when they could, but their main focus seemed to be preventing disasters, and not pursuing the criminal element unless they had too.
This was Tyson's self-appointed job, so he might as well get it over with instead of wishing he had someone he could give what he was told so that they would do his job for him.
Tyson inspected the place he was going to break into. It was an old three story house broken into smaller apartments. Newer stairs on the back led to the upper floor where it squatted over the bottom floors. Arched eaves shaded the windows of the place from the sun. A chimney stood in one wall and ran up to the roof.
Tyson drifted closer, knowing that wherever a shadow went, he could too. A quiet look around while the renter was away was what the doctor ordered. It gave him a chance to search without having to worry about the guy waking up and wondering what was going on.
Tyson used a crack under the apartment's door to get into the place. He noticed the alarm system, but knew he was undetectable while moving through shadows. A quick look told him that his subject was asleep in his room. The Mocker slid under the bed, waiting for morning to come so he could have the apartment to himself. Then he would retreat to his own place across town after his search.
Tyson waited, fighting back the urge to drag his suspect from his bed and hang him by his ankles out a window. He debated the correctness of his decision until the sun beat against the shades pulled down in the bedroom windows. An alarm woke up the owner of the place, and got him on the move.
Tyson made sure to get the alarm code as the man turned it off so he could move around his livingroom/kitchenette/diningroom in peace. Finally he left, setting the alarm behind him.
Just what I wanted him to do.
Tyson shut the alarm off after waiting what he considered a reasonable length of time. Then he carefully combed the apartment, looking for anything to point him in the right direction. He needed to know who to grab so that he could squeeze them like ripe fruit.
He found a stash of drugs and money ten minutes in his search. The money went into his pocket, the drugs went into the toilet. One flush took care of that. He looked around again to make sure there was nothing else.
The missing drugs and money might cause anything to happen. Hopefully it would cause people to reach out and touch someone and so on until somebody specific jumped into Tyson's sights so that he could apply pressure.
It might also make his guy run, go to ground where Tyson would have to search for him. That would be bad, but not catastrophic.
Tyson set the alarm again before he slid out of the place. Daytime wasn't his strong suit but he could hide in the gray shadows until he reached the subway. Then home was a short trip along the rails, and hitching a ride with anyone heading his way. Then he could bunk in for the day, and get back to work that night.
It was a crazy way to do things, but Tyson was used to his new existence after the six months he was in a coma. Sleep in the day, act at night. Just like the owls he used to read about when he was younger.
It took Tyson longer than he expected but he was finally able to put his feet up and catch some shut eye so he could keep going.
3
The day died as Tyson hid some clothes he could wear if he was caught in the daytime again. He had placed them in a plastic bag, and taped them to the inside of a ventilation shaft on a rooftop. All he would have to do would be to get to the roof and fish his things out.
Tyson spent the night following his new friend, Felix Alcala, around Church Hill. He witnessed a lot of questionings, some beatings, and an almost killing. No one could tell Felix where his money, or little black pills went, which only infuriated him even more.
Tyson decided that enough was enough at two in the morning. He could feel fire burning in his veins. Time for a little street justice.
Tyson waited until Felix had walked out of a strip club, going for his car parked in a lot nearby. As soon as the enraged dealer got behind the wheel, a hockey mask appeared in the corner of his eye. He half turned, key still in his hand.
Tyson didn't let him make another move before he reached into the open window, grabbing Felix's lapels. He sank into the ground, dragging the dealer with him. The Mocker flattened into the pool of shadow at the base of the auto, but Felix slammed against the concrete like a melon.
Time for a talk.
Tyson grabbed Felix and carried him into the waiting shadows. It wouldn't do to have some good samaritan interfering with their talk. That would slow things down.
Tyson dumped Felix on the ground, kicking him in the ribs. He waited for the dealer to come around, using a shadow as a resting spot.
Alcala reached for the pistol that should have been in his waistband. He touched cloth, realized the weapon was gone. He stood, looking around.
"Don't bother looking around, Felix," said the Mocker. "You can't see me. I'm invisible. I know that you have been supplying a new drug for the Street Sharks. What I want to know is where you get them from. Tell me what I want to know, and I'll leave."
"You're crazy," said Felix. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You shouldn't lie, Felix," the whispery voice said. "Who do you think flushed your supply? It sure wasn't poor, old George."
"You flushed my stash?," said Felix. "You flushed my stash! That was 10k worth of stuff!"
"So what?," said the Mocker. "What do you think will get flushed if I don't get an answer? Take a minute and think about what I might do besides busting your face. Who gave you the pills?"
Felix touched his face, winced at the sudden flare of pain. His fingers came away with dried blood. A tooth jiggled as he touched his jaw to see if it was hurt more than he felt.
"Look, all I know is this guy is offering them with some Ice and X," said the dealer. "They are supposed to be nonaddictive, smooth, increase your speed, make you feel like a superman."
"Doesn't every drug?," said Tyson.
"Not like this," said Felix, pulling out a handkerchief to clean his face. "This is like PCP that leaves your mind still there."
"You try it?," said Tyson.
"Don't sample the merchandise," said Felix. "That's the first rule of a successful businessman."
"What's the name of this chemist?," said Tyson. "Then we're done for the time being."
Tyson Lewis left his informant in the trunk of his car. Felix's cell was left in pieces beside the trunk. Tyson didn't want him calling help to get him out of his predicament before he had talked to the chemist.
It was a simple trip on the subway for Tyson to arrive near the address. Flowing through the shadows got him the rest of the way unseen. He didn't see house numbers to point him in the right direction. You knew where you were going, or you didn't have any business on this street.
Tyson wandered the yards, sniffing the air. A chemistry lab would have to be ventilated. Supplies would have to be stored close enough to be used but far enough to prevent a fire in case there was an accident.
An explosion would ruin anybody's day.
Tyson's search was over in minutes. The strong smell of cooking chemicals pointed him to the house in the middle of the block with two dogs roaming a fenced yard. They felt Tyson's presence roaming their territory, but failed to see his shadow jumping from spot to spot. He slipped under the front door as the dogs growled and barked their nervousness.
The Mocker explored the house, grimacing at the mess he encountered. The drifting smell led him down to a cellar. He paused at the sight of a slouched, gaunt armature of a man loading pink powder into capsules from a scale. He paused to lick his fingers as he worked on rebuilding his supply of his wonder drug.
That can't be healthy, Tyson thought as he watched.
Tyson was torn as he thought about his options. This guy didn't look like a mastermind, bent over his work area, drug and capsules at hand. If he was the kingpin, Tyson could shut this new drug down at the source right then.
One fire would take this house up and everything in it in a few seconds. No fire department on earth would be able to stop the blaze once the chemicals caught.
Tyson decided that he needed more information before he acted. This chemist might just be another link in the chain the Mocker was following. He retreated to a pool of darkness away from the heavy smell as much as he could without actually leaving the room.
No matter what, the drugs weren't leaving this basement.
Tyson waited patiently for the chemist to finish and leave the homemade lab. There had to be some kind of records in the mess. This house had to belong to somebody, bills for power and the telephone had to be somewhere. There might even be a receipt for the chemicals Tyson saw pressed against the wall.
A door opened upstairs, footsteps walked across the floor cheerfully.
"Hey, Price!," said the newcomer. "Are you done yet?"
Price's friend appeared in the doorway leading out of the basement a few minutes later. He wore jeans and a Dreddlox t-shirt, and a bandana to hold his long hair in check. Three rings flashed in the dim light as his hand moved as he walked.
Price, the chemist, didn't look up from his work as he continued to stuff black capsules until he emptied the scale in front of him. Then he counted them into separate bottles silently, topping the plastic jars with child proof caps when he had the number he wanted in each small container.
"I still have to get the shipment ready to go," Price said, voice gritty as desert sand. "Deliveries should be ready in a couple of hours."
"Take a break, buddy," said Price's partner. "We might have to move our set up. One of the Sharks called to say that one of those masked types were leaning on them. They think it's the same guy who offed Colin Carne."
"This shadow man we heard about?," Price asked.
"Yeah," said the businessman of the two. "Pack up everything you need, and we'll set up somewhere else. There's a couple abandoned houses I've scoped out that we can use."
"What about the deliveries, Jay?," Price asked.
"As soon as we get your equipment moved," Jay said. "We'll put the merchandise in the mail like usual."
Tyson waited as the two started packing up Price's lab. There some small debate on which pieces were more important, and what needed to be left behind. Finally Jay cut the argument off by stating anything left behind could be replaced and he didn't want to hear any more from his buddy, or else. Price shrugged and nodded in agreement.
Tyson shifted across the dark room, closing on the work bench. No matter who else was involved he wasn't going to let these two move their operation now that he had them in his sights. If they went anywhere, they would go empty-handed.
Tyson waited until the room was empty before he lit a small Bunsen burner and set it against one of the chemical drums next to the wall. He concealed the flame with a small shifting of the drums, watching as the flame started to burn through the heavy plastic. He pulled back from the room, heading for outside as fast as he could ride the shadows. He wondered if the two partners would realize the flame had been lit on their lab as they moved things around.
Tyson invaded a dark house down the street, glad that the residents were out, or asleep. He called 911 to let them know a fire was burning in the neighborhood. He gave them the lab's address before hanging up. Tyson slid back out on the porch to wait to see what his machinations would produce.
Tyson was rewarded with a cloud of dark smoke jumping into the air above the decrepit house. Flames sliced in view of the windows. Thunder rolled as the roof came off the illegal lab in a pillar of rocket exhaust heading for the upper atmosphere. Jay and Price slammed against a plain black van that hadn't been parked in front of the house when Tyson had got there earlier in the evening.
Sirens howled as emergency vehicles responded to the city shaking bang that Tyson had set off. The two dealers got in the van, not eager to tell the authorities why a house had turned into a flare the size of King Kong. The engine kicked over, and Jay pulled the van away from the curb.
Tyson flowed off the porch he had puddled on, riding the dancing shadows cast by the flames of the burning house. He latched onto the van's shadow and let it carry him to wherever Jay and Price felt safe until he could take that away from them too.
Then he would see where else they could lead him.
4
Tyson drifted under Jay's and Price's van, clinging to a shadow. He wondered how much of a crimp he had put in their plans. Blowing up their supplies and equipment was probably extreme. He should have restrained himself, and simply tipped the police off with a telephone call.
He needed to watch that in the future. He didn't want to kill someone.
The van rolled down a gravel driveway. The tires crunched until Jay pulled to a stop behind an apartment building. They got out, debating which one was the blame for the house blowing up. Their language violated the FCC code as they headed for an apartment in the back of the complex.
Jay's most voracious complaint was the junking of his van. He couldn't keep using it if the police could tie it to the burning building. He had just put a new engine in it. Money down the drain did not make him happy.
The two took their argument to their apartment. A shadow followed in a long streak. It paused as the two went inside. Then it stretched under the door after the two chemists.
Jay retired to a room at the end of a narrow hall, while Price went to the small kitchenette to raid the narrow refrigerator. He twisted the top off a beer bottle taken from an open case. He settled on a couch, flipping on a television in the corner. His small doses of chemical would keep him awake for hours as it kept his mind and body running without feeling fatigue.
Price watched the television, flipping channels as he processed every show he saw, but skipping along as his brain filled in the blanks. Cable television in the middle of the night didn't have much on that he hadn't already seen.
His brain also kept circling the accident in his lab. He was never careless with any flames, or his mixtures. Something else had to happen to cause that fire. Then the fire department and police were both on the scene before the thing could really get going. That didn't add up in his opinion.
Price's memory slid something into his consideration. Jay had mentioned that one of the city's vigilante's had taken an interest in their operation. Could that shadow man had found their operation before Jay heard the rumor? Could he have destroyed the lab while they were outside? Word was he had messed up Colin Carne and Richie Mavelin when he got started.
Could he have followed them to their place?
Price sipped his beer as he considered that last thought. The guy was made of shadow. That meant he was at home in the darkened apartment. The chemist sipped the last of the beer as he let his drug dazed brain go over things. It made sense the more he thought about it.
Price took his empty bottle in the kitchenette and dumped it in the green plastic trashcan by the fridge. He opened a junk drawer they kept by the utensil drawer under the sink. He casually dug inside the drawer for a small spotlight he had bought from Wal-mart. His hand wrapped around the handle, and he tried to look innocent as he pulled the bulky flashlight from the drawer.
Price thumbed the switch on the spotlight, playing it around the living area with the extraordinary reflexes his chemicals gave him. He not thrilled by the slim man in the hockey mask that the light revealed. This had to be the Mocker, and he was staring at Price with angry eyes.
Price reacted to the intruder by moving to the light switches to turn on the overheads. He knew he had to keep this guy in the open. There was no telling what he could do if he got away from the light.
The helmeted figure grabbed a chair as Price pulled a knife from his back pocket. The juice would give him more than enough strength to slice the misfit apart. He rushed forward, aware of the rising chair, knowing it was at the wrong angle to block his knife as it led him along. The chair hit the overhead lamps. They came away from the ceiling with a tiny clatter. Price kept charging as the room plunged back into darkness lit by the chattering television.
His blade glittered like blue glass as he missed his intended prey. He paused, aware that the shadow man had vanished once the lights had gone out. He had underestimated his quarry. Now he had to be watchful and aware.
At least Jay was still asleep and out of the way while he tried to deal with this on his own. The other chemist would just get in his way.
Price played the spotlight around the room, hoping to pick out the shadow man again. He was suddenly aware how much he depended on his sight to help him. Then the television floated at him, breaking as it crashed against his upraised arm.
Price decided it was time to rethink his plan.
Price ran to the door of the apartment. He didn't have a prayer in an enclosed area against someone who was living darkness. Even his drug enhanced abilities would not help him meet the challenge. His best bet was to take the fight outside where natural lighting might help him even the odds.
Price felt something slam against his back, but his system was on auto. He grabbed the door and pulled on it. He didn't have time to deal with the locks on the thing. His pull ripped the wooden frame apart as the metal tongues sprang in his grip. He plunged outside.
A fast jog took the chemist to the center of the parking lot in front of the apartment he shared with Jay. Three streetlights overlapped in that one spot. The only shadow was the one underneath him as he waited for the Mocker to make his move.
The shadowy vigilante would have to face Price in the open. His only route to the chemist was cut off by the three lobes of soft white light beating down.
His enhanced brain told him that he had found a solution for the moment. He had to get out of that circle, get away, before the Mocker found a way to get past his makeshift defensive wall. Gloved hands clutching his ankles threw him off. A brand new Lincoln filled his vision as he was dragged through the parking lot for a few seconds. The next second found Price sailing through the air. He smashed the front windshield before he could think to react to the threat.
Some things wrapped around his ankles. A moment later, he hit the asphalt again. His hands cushioned the blow at the cost of skin from his palms.
Price looked around for his vanished flashlight. As long he was casting a shadow, he couldn't make his enemy appear. He also couldn't continue fighting. Sooner or later his buzz would stop and he would crash. When that happened, he would be vulnerable and helpless.
Price decided he needed to make a getaway while he was still boosting.
Price aimed for a street lamp, and took off. Everything seemed slow to his sped up eyes. He didn't know what his attacker was capable of doing. He hoped that the sudden move into darkness and then under a lamp would buy him enough time to get away.
Tyson Lewis paused in his assault. Price was bigger and faster than he was. His ability to blend into shadow had served him well, but he needed something major if he was going to take the drug maker out.
Tyson needed a weapon he could use to make a big dent in Price's almost superhuman defense.
Tyson looked around as the chemist stood under a street light a few yards away. There had to be something he could use.
Tyson slid to where the partners' van was parked in front of their apartment. He slid through a crack to get inside. A quick search turned up something he could use, if he could pull it into shadow with him.
Tyson slid a tire iron under his jacket. He collapsed into a shadow, and the metal went with him. He passed back through the door and slipped around the alert Price. He was sure that his enemy couldn't see his two dimensional form mixed in with the darkness of the night beyond the circle of light that would turn him into a target when he stepped under it.
Tyson waited for the right moment before starting his charge with the tire iron in hand. He was behind Price, swooping on the chemist with his weapon swinging as hard as he could. The enhanced senses from the dosing must have alerted the bald man because he turned as the Mocker appeared out of the shadow.
Tyson thought he might be caught in his own trap as he brought the tool down. The steel rod caught Price square in the face as he was raising his arm for protection. One more blow from the iron finished the job before the chemist could mount an effective defense.
Now came the frame.
Tyson dragged Price back in the apartment, and dropped him on the floor in the living area. He checked on Jay, glad to find the other dealer still in bed. A bottle of sleeping pills on the headboard explained why.
Tyson put the bloody iron in Jay's hand before breaking into a neighbor's place. He called 911 to report the nonexistent fight going on in the other apartment. Tyson hung up, deciding he needed one more piece of evidence to make his claim stick.
He gathered some of the loose drugs from the van. It was simple to plant the minuscule amount he could get together on Jay's face.
Tyson waited in a shadow for the police to arrive.
epilogue
The police arrived, one car at first. Then a swarm. An ambulance arrived while officers were trying to sort things out. Jay was led out in handcuffs, as Price was loaded in the ambulance due to his cracked skull.
Tyson slipped under the ambulance. He latched onto the undercarriage so he could hitch to the hospital. He wanted to know if the cops could follow up on what he had done. His involvement in this might be over.
It all depended on Price and Jay being the mastermind behind things. Their arrests could bring this drug dealership to an end. It was small drop in the bucket, but it might help make things better.
On the other hand, the users could just find another high to chase.
Tyson decided not to worry about that. All he could do was worry about the one guy he was chasing, not the side issue of what happened to addicts he had cut off.
Tyson rode Price's gurney into the emergency room. He listened as he waited for the doctors to go to work on the chemist. A detective arrived to talk to the policeman watching over the prisoner. The hidden Mocker smiled as the detective placed Price under arrest.
Tyson waited until the emergency room slowed down before hitching a ride out of the hospital. He used the shadows to cross town. He had overheard where Jay had been taken. It was a simple matter to check on him before he went home.
Jay looked unhappy in the interrogation room with two policemen wanting to know why he caved his friend's face in. They worked on him, but Tyson left as soon as he was sure that no more of their special blend would be made and sold.
Mission accomplished, the Mocker thought.
He used the darkness to get back to his house and cleaned up. The television beckoned as he waited for sleep to come.