Visions of Fear
1
Any given night in Church Hill, something was bound to happen to any one of its citizens. Guys like Roy and Rich mugged people for a living. Sometimes they did things to the women they targeted.
They considered themselves unstoppable because they had fell in the cracks that alerted the city's authorities to their presence and guilt.
As the sun went down, Roy and Rich had picked out their next victim. It was a woman who had gotten on the bus with them and was involved reading her book. She never noticed them sizing her up for vulnerability.
When she got off the bus, the muggers got off with her and followed her toward an apartment complex down the block from the bus stop. They hung back to avoid suspicion. When she opened her door, they rushed forward. A simple shove threw to the floor of her apartment. A knife at her throat cut off the scream she was trying to sound.
Roy kicked the door shut, smiling in the gloom.
Roy and Rich thought they would spend a lot of time with their unwilling victim in her apartment. If a boyfriend, or husband, showed up, they would be dealt with. Neither one was prepared for the thing that burst through the door.
Roy turned, knife swinging out of instinct. Something caught his wrist like a vice. Then he heard crackling like potato chips being stepped on. Pain shot up his arm in a howl. Then something crashed against the side of his head. He dropped, jaw broken into mismatched puzzle pieces.
Rich saw his buddy being engulfed in a dark cloud streaming through the door. He took off the other way, running pass the woman he had thought to use. He jumped through a closed window, brushing glass off as he kept running.
When he had reached a spot about a couple blocks away from the apartment, he turned to look over his shoulder. He smiled. He bumped into someone on the sidewalk. He jerked his face forward to snarl at the pedestrian in his way.
He found himself looking at a face that made Freddy Krueger look handsome.
Rich tried to scream, but could only groan as two forearms smashed his collar bones. The mugger went down to his knees, a fist blocking his vision. Then everything went black.
2
Twenty minutes later, at a convenience store a few blocks away from where Rich had been broken, Karen Jennings stocked cigarettes on the rack behind the counter. It was her second job, and was helping to keep her children fed and clothed decently.
Two men wearing Jaguar team jackets that one of the local gangs preferred walked into the store. She barely had time to turn her head before one pulled a pistol and fired once. The bullet made her thin brown hair jump as it dug into the rack beside her face.
"Give us the money in the register," one of the men shouted through the ringing in Karen's ears. "Move your fat butt."
Karen staggered to the register and pressed the no sale button. The drawer slid out shakily and the men scooped out the bills inside. They started backing towards the door.
The one with the pistol took aim at Karen as his buddy pushed through the door. The buddy screamed a second later. The man turned toward the door, reacting to the unexpected threat. A foot slammed against the side of his head through the opened door.
Karen ran for the phone as a shadowy thing leaped into the air.
3
Cordly Kiro was a good burglar, breaking into places high above the city. He often used the place's own window washing equipment to get in.
That was what he was doing on the thirtieth floor of the Karr Tower downtown.
He placed a strip of explosives around the frame of the window. A button timer went into the plastique. He covered his ears, pressing the switch box on his sleeve. The glass fell into the office with a bang.
Kiro made sure his face mask was in place before he dove into the office. He had thirty seconds to cut the alarm off. He rushed to the next room, pulling a strip off the magnetic adhesive. He placed that on the alarm, waiting to see if he had got it in time.
The light beeped and turned green.
Cordly turned to look for the safe.
Cordly found what he wanted within seconds. He laughed slightly at the sight of the old fashioned safe in the wall. He paused as the laugh seemed to last longer than he had actually laughed.
He turned to check the window. It was blank.
Imagination must be in overdrive, he thought as he reached for his safe cracker, a small block of plastic explosives he would apply on the lock. He pushed the plastique against the metal, wondering why a detonator was counting down.
Cordly flung himself over the office furniture to get away. The explosive blew the lock as he ducked behind the desk.
The safe door swung open forlornly.
Cordly sighed.
"One second more," said a gritty voice from the darkness. "That would have been your leg."
A fist smashed Cordly's visored face with uncanny precision. He hit the floor, brain spinning to sleep.
When he woke up, policemen were bundling him into a car to be taken to jail. Cordly looked up at the Karr Building, thought he saw a shadow merge with the darkness up there. He shook his head, trying to remember his lawyer's number.
4
Kevin Murphy glanced at his fellows. They seemed to be as ready as he was. He gestured to Waldo to get on with it. The big man slammed the wooden door apart with the battering ram in his hands. He stepped out of the way as Murphy plunged inside.
Murphy had a Mac-10 in his hands and sprayed the front room, destroying furniture, decorations, knick knacks, in a side to side motion. Two of his partners spread out on either side, causing plates in the kitchen to explode while punching holes in the walls.
They paused to reload their empty weapons.
Laughter pierced the sudden silence, as empty magazines fell out of the smoking guns. Murphy paused, not sure where the sound was coming from. Something erupted from the kitchen, wrapping around Frank Dwyer like a thrown blanket. Cracking came from under the blanket as Murphy struggled to reload.
Murphy swung his Mac at the moving blanket, aware that it was a man in a wide, ragged cape. He started squeezing the trigger as Dwyer dropped to the floor. Frank wouldn't be moving for a while, Murphy decided as he fired.
The man in the hooded cape leaped up, somersaulting through the air. Murphy's bullets ripped at the walls and ceiling as he tried to keep his submachine gun on target. His other hired help, Bryce Steiner, had reloaded and fired at the apparition as the man sailed toward him. Murphy spun as the cape draped around the two. He kept firing, riddling the cape as he finished emptying the clip out.
Steiner dropped to the floor, shot dead by his boss.
Murphy dropped the weapon, going for a loaded pistol in a shoulder holster. A fist smashed his nose before he could get the weapon clear. Gloved hands seized Murphy's head, directing him into the nearest wall face first. He slumped to the floor, eyes rolling up in the back of his skull.
A neighbor had called 911. Police swarmed into the apartment building after a few minutes. All they found was three shattered mercenaries in a wrecked home.
5
Church Hill's Clock Tower struck one as a cloaked figure floated across the city. It drifted down to the roof of East Summit Mall. It moved to a skylight, looking down on the central gallery that was on the ground floor. Small lights drifted through some of the stores.
He frowned, withered face setting in grim lines.
East Summit was closed with no after hours work scheduled. Too many lights for the security guard detail that should be on duty.
He went to the front of the building and used his cord to drop down the front of the place. He smiled at the locked door as he casually picked the lock with a flexible piece of wire. He slipped inside the mall silent as a walking shadow.
The cloaked man went to the first store he spotted flashlights moving in. He watched as men opened the safe to the place and dumped out the register of its startup cash. He looked around, spotting lights in most of the closed places.
He almost laughed as he went about his business, moving into the store, cloak flapping slightly.
6
It was supposed to be a textbook operation. They were supposed to take out the security guards, cut through the grates in front of the store entrances, open all the safes.
Kelly Sage had lost contact with three of his teams. Darkness cloaked the parts of the mall where they were supposed to be active.
It pointed to someone else being in the Mall with them.
Sage did a visual check on the rest of his teams. Six of his teams were still going about their business.
"This is One," Sage said into his throat mike. "We may have an intruder in the building. Keep an eye out."
Clicks responded to his warning. He knew one of the men from each team would watch for anyone sneaking around the fronts of the stores.
Kelly wondered who this intruder could be.
The cloaked man moved silently through the mall. Guards watched for him, but didn't see him. His caped presence fell on the thieves, then retreated when its work was done. The crackling of the unanswered radios marked his passage.
Kelly Sage had thought that numbers would win over the unknown. He was finding the opposite was happening. It was throwing his game plan off schedule.
Time to change the game, he thought.
"This is One," said Sage, into his radio. "Regroup on me with whatever you have secured. We're leaving."
Groups of men poured from the robbed stores. Sage noticed he was missing half of his forces. Nothing he could do about that at the moment. He would have to get them out of jail when he could.
"Secure a perimeter," Sage ordered. "Load the stuff in the cart. Let's roll. Shoot anyone who isn't one of us."
The group rolled their burden to the main doors, weapons pointed outward like a giant porcupine. They shouldered through the glass, wary of assaults. Sage watched the inside of the mall, relieved to be able to get in one of the green vans the group stole for the job and drive away.
7
Kelly Sage hopped out of the van after it came to a stop. He gave orders for his men to switch vehicles. Sage went to the office at the top of the stairs. Windows looked out on the front and side of the warehouse. He kept watch as his men went about their business in a clockwork fashion.
The men would scatter and reassemble somewhere else so they could divide the spoils.
Standard operating procedure for the Riflemen.
Then they would put together another job.
Sage already planned to break his men out of the local jail. Anybody that served with him and was captured would be rescued.
That was also standard for his group.
Sage thought he saw a flicker of movement, but couldn't quite make out what was there. He checked his weapon, passing on an alert. He knew his men would get ready for any kind of intrusion.
The cloaked man drifted across Church Hill, a shadow among shadows. He dropped down on the top of the commandeered warehouse. He paused to take stock, cowl hiding his strange face.
He had been able to place an electronic tag on the fleeing vehicles. A small scanner had led him after the thieves with a small beeping sound.
Now they were in their fortress, and he was standing at the walls ready to enter.
The cloaked man went to the roof entrance silently. A simple twist of his wrist popped the lock. He slid inside, blending with the interior darkness. Boots thumped on the wooden stairs. He pressed against the wall.
The lights came on, revealing his presence. The riflemen were stunned by his sudden appearance. He fell on them, draping them with his long cloak. A moment of struggle ensued. The cloak lifted from the beaten men.
He slipped down the stairs silently, cape hanging on his frame.
The remaining Riflemen gathered together below, wary of a possible intruder.
The cloaked intruder made a gesture. Fog erupted from under his cape, spreading into a moving wall. Dozens of red spots danced on the mist as the Riflemen opened fire in deafening bursts. The bullets ricocheted off unseen obstacles as the weapons ran dry.
The fog spread eerily towards the thieves as they reached for fresh magazines to load into their rifles. Someone laughed in a crazy jag of amusement.
"Someone get the vehicle door open," Sage said. "Everyone else mount up. We're pulling out."
One of the company ran for the large door. A hand wrapped in cloth snatched him into the concealing fog by his collar. He sank from sight like the victim of a shark bite.
Sage fired a burst at head height as he got in the passenger seat of a van. He felt numb as he ordered his driver to drive through the metal barrier. The man stared ahead for a second, then his head fell against the steering wheel. A snore escaped his lips.
"We're being gassed," said Sage. "Everyone get into your masks."
Most of the company had already fallen victim of the strange fog to his dismay.
Sage staggered from the van, pulling a small grenade from his belt. He threw it at the door after arming it. The blast blew the barrier outwards in a spray of metal. The thick gas arced in front of the pressure wave, clearing a path for the master thief to escape.
Sage sprayed the walls on either side of his escape route as he ran for the blasted door. He hit the opening, rolling to avoid sharp teeth around the torn metal. He turned when his feet hit the street.
Mystery men had been gone for a long time, but it seemed with the coming of the Leaguer and Johnny Shield, others were trying their hands at the game.
He had been on the job for a few years, and never been caught. He was not about to let his record be spoiled by a man dressed like a caped scarecrow.
Sage ran away from the building, reloading as he went. He had several escape options open. One was a parked car he had put in a parking garage three blocks away from the transfer point. If he got there, he could disappear for the time it would take to plan an assault to get his men out of the local jail.
A shadow flitted above the street like a giant bat.
Sage ran inside the parking garage, looking for where he had parked his getaway car. Things had gone in the dumper fast, thanks to that thing in the cape. Now he was forced to retreat and regroup without a plan.
He didn't see how things could get worse.
Sage spotted his car rolled against the inside railing. He dashed to it, eyes alert and scanning the area for his unknown adversary. He keyed the button lock on the door. He tossed his bag of loot and equipment in the back seat before getting in. All he needed to do now was drive away carefully.
Sage realized someone was standing by his door as a shadow fell on the window glass. He looked up, one hand reaching for the machine pistol he had placed on the passenger seat. A fist smashed through the glass, spraying jagged pieces in his face. He jerked away, bringing the automatic weapon up. The weapon flew from his hand before he could pull the trigger.
Sage twisted in his seat to get room to pull his pistol from its shoulder holster. A wrapped hand closed around his throat. Then he was laying on the concrete floor of the parking garage with no memory of how he got there. Laughter filled his ears as the garage's lights flickered and went out one by one.
EPILOGUE
A shadow moved across the front of the Clock Tower. It settled on a ledge as the clock struck three.
He had done what he could, but a city the size of Church Hill had numerous crimes that would only come to life in the light of day. There was nothing he could do about that.
He was only one man.
He opened the concealed door on the clock tower's face. He slipped inside, closing the door behind him. He had installed a room at the top of the tower over the gears and bells of the giant timepiece. He took the service stairs, pausing at a section of the wall marked with "Danger" and "Watch Your Step".
He pressed a concealed switch, pushing against the wall at the same time. The wall moved out of his way. He stepped inside the opening, shutting the door behind him.
He washed, dried, and put away his disguise. Concealed weapons went into a storage locker installed on the wall. He sat down, making out journal entries of his activities. The clock struck five below his apartment before he put aside his journal. He dressed in his street clothes and left the apartment in a secret elevator. The night ended as he crossed the lobby of the Tower, heading for the street.
When the sun went down, he would check into anything he had missed during the day.