WARNING: high emotional intensity levels ahead (indirect violence in later portions may border on Mature for some readers). Please proceed with caution.
IV
Eleven years earlier
When it came to a choice of careers, Roxanne Ritchi — former star reporter at KSDQ News in Coppertown, Michigan (not to be confused with Copper City, Ironwood, Iron River, Iron Mountain, or any of the other more prominent mining and lumber towns of Michigan's Upper Peninsula) — had decided that journalism sucked. Oh, not that she regretted taking a new job here in Metro City, which was a top tier market and sufficiently farther south so that she no longer felt as if she were living where summer lasted for about three weeks, tops. She was actually fond of the Midwest, having been born and raised in it, and she enjoyed the challenge of finding stories that would go national, thus disproving many of her colleagues' belief that the only news worth noticing in the Great Lakes states came out of Chicago — and even the Windy City, they felt, hadn't had much to brag about since the end of Prohibition and gangsters like Al Capone. Sure, she had been getting ribbed for years over the jobs she'd taken while climbing up the ladder of obscurity, often at low power stations so new to the air, they wound up violating the normal call letter conventions in search of four letters that weren't already spoken for, somewhere in the country. Even her new job at KMCP in Metro City fell into that category.
Still, Roxanne hadn't been bothered by that. KMCP may have once been little more than a local community access and shopping channel, but in recent years it had been gaining a bigger audience share and thus a better reputation, thanks to a nearly ten-year-old ongoing grudge match between the city's home-grown superhero, Metro Man, and his obviously not so home-grown but nonetheless lifelong local supervillain, Megamind. Here in the big city there was a chance for promotion and real career advancement, unlike her situation in Copperville, where she'd been everything from news anchor, beat reporter, copywriter, weather girl, sports announcer, and even sometimes cameraman (whenever the usual operator and janitor, Judd Latzke, had a dental appointment or a date with his girlfriend). Here, her job was a lot less stressful — and a lot more boring. She'd understood that at KMCP she'd no longer be a star, but she at least had expected some on-screen time, not the endless rounds of repetitive research for equally redundant articles, analyzing every aspect of Metro Man's day, from the brand of toothbrush he used in the morning to his favorite bedtime snack at night.
And she'd thought that covering such newsworthy items as goats stuck on a roof and the latest snowfall totals from the Lake Superior Snow Machine were banal. Yes, if this was the reality of big city journalism, it most definitely sucked. Big time. At least the goats actually ate somebody's homework once in a while and caused a genuine fuss.
Which was why Roxanne was determined to find a way out of the Metro Man trivia research hell in which her current position had her trapped. She was certain that these never-ending battles between cheesy good and melodramatic evil had to have a meatier side to them, something more than the absurd banter, the business as usual combat, the showy costumes and fangirl swooning over the perfectly coiffed hero (or once in a great while the perfectly bald villain. That at least offered a brief if peculiar change of pace). She'd heard the rumors from other people in the news business that the whole Metro Man versus Megamind shtick was nothing more than a product whipped up by the Metro County Chamber of Commerce, to boost tourism revenue after the area's heavy industry went bust during the rust belt years of the late 1980s.
There was no doubt that the income and available jobs from the region's industrial base had collapsed pretty badly back then; there were still parts of Metro City itself that were considered rough and dangerous, since gangs and hoods had taken over most of them once the factories and businesses went bankrupt. Now, well over a decade later, many of those buildings in that district — generally known as Rustville — were still empty, many of the streets around them little used by any but the seamiest parts of the local underworld. The only area they seemed to have no interest in taking over was the westernmost section, which was situated on a narrow, curving spit of land that stuck well out into the lake and thus provided few routes in or out of that neighborhood for hoods who wanted to avoid having their comings and goings and generally unsavory activities noticed. The onshore regions that were now their purview, especially at night, had been dubbed Gangland by the local media. Some of the gangs considered this a source of pride, and their graffiti marked the entrances to their domain.
Because of that, however, it did not surprise Roxanne when she'd realized that more than a few of the larger and quite spectacular super-battles happened to take place in Rustville, or out over the lake. If the rumors were at all accurate, it was possible that they were chosen as the staging areas because they posed the least risk to the general populace, who, with either location, could sit back and still see the show from a comfortably safe distance. When they were offshore, in fact, Roxanne was reminded of the Fourth of July in Copperville, where the annual fireworks display was launched from the safety of a barge on Lake Superior. They did the same sort of thing here, though Roxanne had missed it during her first year in town.
Being a naturally inquisitive person, the longer Roxanne lived and worked in Metro City, the more she wondered just how accurate the rumors were, and whether or not anyone had tried to prove or disprove them. She was positive that Metro Man's powers were not faked, as she'd been a witness to several of his rescues that could not have been planned, and had seen him do things no ordinary person could do, no matter how sophisticated their special effects equipment might be. Metro Man was the real thing, of that Roxanne was certain.
She wasn't so sure about this Megamind character, mostly because all of his "super" aspects were totally gadget-based, and almost nobody seemed to take him or his threats seriously. In the year since she'd settled in Metro City, she hadn't seen him come anywhere near defeating his rival, which, according to her co-workers, was par for the course. Nobody denied that the guy was clever, since he was able to escape from prison as easily as walking through a revolving door (which tended to make Roxanne think the tourism rumors were true), and the myriad gizmos he whipped up to fight his nemesis and "terrorize" the city were actually pretty amazing — or would have been, if they'd ever done what they were supposed to do. Roxanne had never seen the guy up close, but after studying a lot of photos and news footage of the supposedly blue alien, she'd been sure she'd spotted a few flaws in his get-up that could indicate that he was nothing more than an over-the-top actor under a lot of prosthetics, make-up, weird-colored contacts, and flashy wanna-be Kiss-reject costumes. After all, if his skin really was blue, why was his tongue pink, like an ordinary human's? It just didn't make sense, unless it was all a put-on.
The one thing that made her question the validity of her deductions was how incredibly skinny the guy was. That was something that couldn't be faked, unlike bulky fat or muscle, which could. She'd seen severe anorexics with more flesh on their bones, and none of them had even a tiny fraction of the tremendous energy Megamind was always able to put into these so-called fights.
So Roxanne had done her research, asked questions, poked around City Hall for answers, and still wondered. While she was certain now that Metro Man was a genuine super, she couldn't help but think that maybe the Chamber of Commerce had cooked up "Megamind" for the express purpose of providing an appropriate villain to act as counterpoint to the hero, thus improving the show and attracting attention — and money — to the region. If life in Metro City had threatened to become too boring for Metro Man, he might well have talked about relocating to a more interesting city back east or out west, endangering the one claim to fame an on-the-skids Metro City had, so it would follow that the Powers That Be would find a reason for him to stay. The plan did seem to work. The locals and visitors loved rooting for their hero and booing his perennial enemy — literally booing him, like an audience would hurl catcalls at the entrance of the smarmy villain in an old staged melodrama. And yet the blue guy never seemed bothered by it; she'd seen video footage of him, happily hurling boos and hisses back at the bystanders as if the louder their disapproval, the bigger his paycheck. For all she knew, that was precisely the case.
After a year of doing mostly second-hand research, Roxanne decided it was time to try a bit of first-hand work on her own. She'd approached her bosses with the idea of attempting an exposé on the supers in Metro City, to get to the absolute truth of the matter, but they weren't interested; some outright opposed it. If it turned out that even half of the super rivalry was part of a huge decade-long publicity stunt, they'd find themselves with a zero market share for being the killjoys who butchered the goose that laid the golden egg. And even if the conspiracy theory was totally disproved, they would still probably lose viewers, since a little bit of mystery was always a good thing; it kept people asking questions and coming back for more. Taking that away would get them labeled as party-poopers. Besides, her immediate superior pointed out, it was better for some people to think of this as a show without knowing any greater detail. It allowed them to believe the whole thing was an illusion solely for their entertainment, and not conclusive proof that there were aliens among us.
Roxanne wasn't thrilled with those answers, as she wasn't a person who considered herself uneasy with the notion that real aliens might be alive and living on Earth. She was about ninety percent convinced that it was a publicity stunt, anyway — and even if it wasn't, she needed to know the truth, if only to satisfy her burning curiosity. So she decided to do some freelance work, investigate things on her own dime and her own time, and keep the station out of it — for now. The only "involvement" she asked of them was the loan of one of the digital SLR cameras and a news quality telephoto lens. Since they'd recently upgraded the ones used by the true field crews, her boss was willing to let her borrow one of the older models, until an actual reporter needed it.
Before the onset of warmer weather in the spring, Roxanne made her plans. She'd already noticed that Megamind tended to be more active during the warmer times of year, no doubt because he wasn't an invulnerable super like Metro Man, merely a human actor or a very non-super alien (she was definitely leaning in the direction of the former) who felt winter's cold like any ordinary person. Since her purpose was to get as close as possible to the action and then use the powerful telephoto to get better shots than any she'd seen in print or on television — her goal being to capture hitherto unseen detail of these two in action, small details that could determine once and for all if this rivalry was staged or real — she had decided that her best bet would be to follow any battles that occurred in the mostly abandoned industrial sector and the equally abandoned docks and shipping facilities that had once served it. There, she wouldn't be hampered by traffic and the throngs of gawkers who inevitably came out to cheer on their beloved hero as he once again trounced the little blue twerp. Since these fights were generally quite visible from other parts of the city, people were perfectly happy to enjoy the show from a distance and leave the streets of Rustville and Gangland to the two- and four-legged vermin that hung out there.
This was perfect for Roxanne, as it gave her greater freedom of movement to find the perfect spot to train her lenses on the two so-called supers and catch their actions on digital film. It was also convenient that most of these larger than life brawls happened during the daytime — a non-coincidental coincidence if she'd ever heard one. She supposed that if Megamind's special effects equipment failed or the script called for him to be taken down in one of the more unsavory parts of that area, he didn't want to be caught there at night, when some of the real criminals crawled the streets, dealing drugs, having gang wars, and presenting life-threatening dangers he'd never dreamed of.
Over the next three months, she was presented with four opportunities that met her criteria. She missed out on the first as it had started while she was in the middle of a dull meeting at work and ended before said meeting was over. The second appeared to be a better chance; she'd spotted the start of the match while driving home from work, but between the evening rush traffic on the expressway and her unfamiliarity with the streets leading into Rustville, she got hopelessly lost and was ready with her camera only in time to catch Metro Man flying off with his foe, hauling his skinny butt back to prison. She couldn't even catch a decent shot of that, since it was nearly dark by the time she arrived.
After that, she made an effort to memorize the major streets that ran into and through her target area, which she should have done in the first place. She also got hold of a night lens that would let her snap pictures in extreme low light situations. By the third opportunity, she was ready, but the two supers were not. The battle had barely begun when something happened to stop it quite abruptly, the two foes retreating from the scene as if the director had yelled "Cut!" due to an equipment failure. She was more than half convinced that this was precisely the case.
The fourth opportunity — late on a hot afternoon in early July, July the Fourth in fact, what a surprise — wasn't perfect, but it provided her with a chance that looked like it just might hit the jackpot. Being in research rather than reporting, Roxanne actually had the day off (though given that it was a Sunday, she couldn't call her employers "generous," especially since they wanted her to work tomorrow, on the real paid holiday). She was suspicious that something might go down today, to entertain the locals and tourists with a patriotic display of their hero in action against his traditional nemesis. So she spent the day cruising the whole of the old industrial and wharf areas, just to see if she could catch any indications of the show to come.
She'd had a hunch that morning that today's entertainment might take place out on the peninsula, since that would give the best view to the people gathered in town for the holiday. It was a ratty, dismal, dirty part of the city, fully deserving of the description abandoned, but it was also completely devoid of life, save for the gulls, rats, and other critters that called it home. So much for that idea. Rustville was always pretty inactive, and even Gangland was quiet, quite likely because the hoods were either at home, sleeping off the activities of the previous night, or were out mingling with ordinary citizens at the city's big celebration, picking pockets, dealing drugs, and in general taking advantage of the crowds to do their genuinely criminal business. Roxanne wasn't afraid of them, but having been a field reporter, she had the sense to steer clear of them rather than tempt fate.
By late afternoon, Roxanne was beginning to think that nothing would happen today, that either "Megamind" had another gig somewhere and wasn't available for a show today, or that if anything was planned, it was for tomorrow's "official observance" holiday, just to be a little bit unpredictable. She continued her prowl a while longer, until her stomach told her in no uncertain terms that it wanted food. She then took a side trip into the downtown, where she found a sandwich shop that had stayed open to catch people headed to the lakefront for tonight's fireworks display. While she ate her supper, she reviewed all that she knew about the nine-year-old history of open conflict between superhero and decidedly unsupervillain. There was something of a pattern to their fights, the places in which they tended to occur, the length of the intervals between them, the types of disturbances they usually caused. Really, even the most novice investigator should have caught on to the fact that for a supposedly "super" little war, nobody was ever caught in the crossfire, if such it could be called. If this wasn't a huge tourist attraction, why hadn't anyone ever been hurt, seriously hurt by it? What true villain worth his stripes would cause acts of mayhem and terror that never terrorized anyone? One big show, she was sure of it. And she was going to prove it, her boss be hanged.
About an hour before sunset, the traffic started to pick up, the fireworks crowd started to flood in to catch the evening's advertised extravaganza. Roxanne finished her second glass of iced tea, then left, hoping to get out on the road before the traffic became impossible. She was a bit late for that, and it took nearly the full hour before she was able to get off the surface streets of the city center. She started heading back to her apartment, taking the freeway spur that passed near the bankrupt industrial region — and it was there, as the last rays of the sun poured across the decrepit old buildings that she finally struck paydirt.
The expressway spur was in part a long bridge that carried traffic over the abandoned buildings below, allowing normal citizens to avoid seeing some of the worst evidence of the city's neglect. Many of the flat rooftops were visible, and on one of them, made noticeable mostly by the long shadows created by the near-setting sun, Roxanne spotted a familiar figure of blue and black. He was accompanied by a number of small, rather ugly-looking flying robots that were toting long wires in their also-ugly little pincers. To her eye, Megamind looked to be doing set-up work for a huge piece of demolitions work.
Wow, she thought as she headed for the nearest off-ramp. Was the guy actually planning something truly villainous for a change? Or had the writers for this particular script worked it out with the city to get both a spectacular show and a bit of urban renewal started with one fell swoop?
Excited, Roxanne took note of where the blue guy and his ugly robots (they really were ugly; she had to wonder if the designer had thought "evil" meant "crappy looking," or if they had been whipped together on a short deadline with an even shorter budget) were at work. By now, she was pretty familiar with the major buildings and streets through the area, so she didn't need to consult a map to know how to get there. Of course, she didn't plan to drive up to the old Edison Brothers Foundry, find a way up to the roof, and ask for a photo shoot. If the guy was already in full make-up and costume, he was probably working out some last minute details for the coming show. Roxanne seriously doubted that he was an actual demolitions expert; he'd likely been given instruction on how to set the final wires to the detonator, so that there'd be no chance of someone accidentally setting things off too soon.
As she neared the off-ramp, she slowed her car enough to get a good long look across the rooftops (too bad she couldn't pull over and start taking pictures; there was simply too much traffic). From what she was able to see, the wires were strung out for a block or two around the foundry building. There was an old abandoned tannery that she knew of outside the probable blast zone but with a clear, unobstructed view of her target. If luck was with her and the doors and windows weren't all boarded over, she could get up to the tannery roof and finally nail some decent pictures.
Her luck was holding, so far. Not only did she find an open door on her first try, but she also spotted a good place to hide her car, in an old loading dock area behind the building. She didn't think it would make much sense to be going after candid photos, only to give away her presence by parking right on the street. Yes, all her fine-honed reporter skills were clicking, bringing her closer and closer to a story that might very well be the start of a major career. Even if her bosses didn't want to use it, she would at least prove to them that as a trivia researcher, her reporting skills were being wasted.
She was so intent on making the most of this opportunity, she forgot that while the old foundry was in the area known as Rustville, the tannery was well into Gangland turf.
As dusk was falling outside, the inside of the grungy abandoned tannery was pretty dark. It took Roxanne a few precious minutes to find the staircase with the access ladder to the roof, but when she finally made it, she knew all the effort was worth it. Though the sun had just gone down, the sky was still quite bright, shining in gold and scarlet over the ocean-like vista of Lake Michigan. Against this flaming backdrop, she could get clear shots of Megamind at work, directing his flying uglybots in placing their web of wires and what certainly looked like explosives all across the tops of the buildings around the foundry.
While she snapped away, swapping the ordinary telephoto for the one with the night vision capabilities, it occurred to Roxanne that if demolition was the blue guy's intent, setting the charges on the roofs made no sense. Explosives were usually placed on support structures, from what she knew, and the only supports on the rooftops were those from long gone water towers and maybe the pseudo-villain's back brace. Wearing that huge head prosthetic had to wreak havoc with his sacroiliac. Well, maybe the urban renewal idea wasn't the plan, just some showy special effects blasts to make it look as if Rustville was about to be leveled.
The light was beginning to fade from the western sky when a wimpy little firework was shot off from one of the offshore barges, warning the audience that the show would begin in twenty minutes. A cackle of delight drifted across the roofs to Roxanne's ears, causing her to wonder if this Megamind guy thought something was funny, or if he was just warming up for the coming performance. Whatever the case, Roxanne was ready. She was going to get conclusive proof, once and for all.
She was not surprised, then, when just as Megamind hopped onto some odd sort of vaguely surfboard-like flying device and lifted up from the rooftop, a streak of white and gold appeared from somewhere in the east, the familiar figure of Metro Man showing up in time for the entertainment to commence. What surprised her was the fact that they didn't go right into the show. Instead, Metro Man flew up to the now airborne Megamind and stopped in front of him, hovering with arms crossed like a parent staring down a misbehaving child.
"Not this year, Megamind," she clearly heard him say in a stentorian baritone, even though there was no audience that he knew of to hear. "You promised you wouldn't interfere again with the city's patriotic fireworks display after last year's fiasco!"
She could hear the sneer in the villain's voice as she saw it on his face through her telephoto lens. God, the guy had his part down perfect, right to the mocking curl of the lip. He planted one fist on a skinny hip and waved his other hand in Metro Man's face. "I promised with my fingers crossed!" he taunted, and she could see that he was indeed doing just that with his black-gloved fingers. "Just like you did when you promised you wouldn't take me to prison on my birthday!"
"Justice doesn't cross its fingers — that was jail, not prison," the hero rejoined with impeccable logic. "And you didn't tell me it was your birthday!"
Roxanne would have to check her images later to see if Megamind really did stick out his tongue. "That's because it was none of your beeznest!"
"It's business, and I'm just about to put you out of it!"
"Oh, that was a snappy comeback, Mister Chairman of the Board! Tell me, Waaaayyyyne, does your entire family fortune come from hair care products? Are you the biggest stockholder or the biggest customer?"
Metro Man snorted and struck a pose, jutting out his considerable chin. "You're just jealous because evil has no hair and must stand naked before Justice!"
"And maybe you're just jealous because I can do better things with my time than waste it standing in front of a mirror, pimping my hair!"
"It's primping, and good doesn't primp, it grooms to maintain a clean image!"
"Oh, la-di-da, I'm so humiliated! I just don't know how I find the time to think up clever banter for a battle of wits with an unarmed opponent!" While he'd been speaking, the blue villain had been slowly maneuvering his hover device so that he was now ringed by the flying uglybots.
The hero changed his own position but maintained his intimidating pose. "You're not going to get away with this!" he warned, not the greatest comeback, but at least to the point for a change.
"Just watch me!" came the gleeful retort as Megamind suddenly zipped off, a cloud of the little uglybots about him, his black cape billowing behind like a huge bat's wing. Roxanne wasn't sure where he was headed, but she suspected it had something to do with his plans for interfering with the lakefront festivities. He held up one hand, aiming a remote at something on one of the rooftops; it went flying a moment later when a quick zap of Metro Man's laser vision knocked it from his grasp and sent it spinning off into the night.
Annoyed by the loss of his control device, the blue guy yelled something she couldn't quite catch to the uglybots, half of which flew off in different directions while the others stayed with him as he went after the remote. Whatever the scattering bots were up to didn't appear to concern Metro Man, for no sooner had they taken off than he targeted his adversary's flying board with his laser vision. His first blast missed the villain as Megamind nimbly maneuvered to avoid it. It caught one of the uglybots instead, which dropped out of the fray like a whimpering dog; the rest of its little pack followed it out of the line of fire rather than stay in danger with their master. Roxanne swore she could hear Megamind shriek, "Cowards!" to their retreating tails, but he had more important things to deal with when Metro Man's next laser shot sliced the engine off his flyer.
While she snapped photos of the whole thing for posterity, Roxanne thought that this was the strangest "battle" she'd ever witnessed. It was more like a squabble between preteen schoolyard rivals. As Megamind and his flyer went spiraling out of control, down into the dark valleys of the streets below, the fireworks at the lakefront began — and a larger explosion on the opposite side of town momentarily lit the eastern sky. Metro Man had started to follow his foe, but the sight and sound of the explosion drew his attention elsewhere. Roxanne saw the uglybots return and close in around Megamind, saving him from becoming roadkill on the pavement. Metro Man saw it, too, then changed his mind about pursuing him and instead flew off in the direction of the explosion.
Was he just letting his opponent go? If he was, then that was all Roxanne needed to convince her that this was just a hoax. It was weird enough that Megamind had actually seemed to be enjoying himself, but this was the clincher. With his documented super speed, it would have been no problem for Metro Man to both nab the crook and go rescue the citizens; he'd done it before. There would be no reason to do otherwise now, Roxanne felt, unless he knew this whole business with "Megamind" was nothing more than a show that had to end early due to technical difficulties.
Well, maybe that was a bit of a stretch, trying to make the facts fit the story rather than the reverse, but the reporter couldn't think of a better explanation for why a known hero would simply fly off and leave a presumably dangerous adversary. When Metro Man was gone and the fireworks display was rumbling and flashing and booming away, she decided to hustle back to the streets, to see if she could catch the fallen "villain" in the act of powering down the special effects and maybe even getting out of that hot and heavy prosthetic, not to mention the heavy make-up. On a sweltering night like this, she knew she wouldn't want keep either on a moment longer than was necessary to collect her pay. She'd noted the way his fall had taken him, and thought she might be able to get close to it if she hustled.
Fortunately, the other doors into the tannery building were only locked, not barred or boarded up, so she was able to take a different way out that would hopefully shorten the distance she needed to cover. She was glad that she'd worn her athletic shoes, so she could sprint in hopes of getting there before Megamind left.
She didn't realize that she'd gotten turned around inside the dark building until she was running down what she'd thought was the right street, heading in the right direction. There had been a pause in the fireworks when she'd left the tannery, probably while some ground display was lit up. When they resumed, they were, to her, in the wrong part of the sky. Frustrated, Roxanne realized that she'd been racing away from her quarry; she spun on her heel to head back again. Having been stuck in the office over the past year far more than she'd ever been on her last job, she was out of shape and getting disgustingly winded. Hoping to make things a little easier on herself, she began looking for a short cut. To her relief, she spotted a narrow alley that went in the direction she wanted, and hurried down it.
The alley seemed longer than any alley had a right to be. She was glad when it turned in what she felt was a convenient direction — until she went half a block farther, and suddenly found her path blocked by a tall chain link fence with an equally tall chained-shut gate. With the only light that from the distant fireworks and inevitable urban city glow, she hadn't seen it until she was almost upon it; though she tried to stop, she couldn't do so fast enough to keep herself from slamming into it. The impact knocked what little wind she had left right out of her, and left her clinging to the fence for support as she gasped, trying to get her breath back so she didn't collapse from lack of air.
"Great, just great!" she muttered to herself, annoyed by her own poor condition and the obstacle blocking her way. What idiot put a fence in an alley, anyway?
Roxanne kept filling her lungs, letting herself recover a bit while she considered her next step. She could go back the way she'd come, which was certainly the path of least resistance, but it would also take the longest, and she didn't know how much time she could afford to waste. She could try to climb over the fence, but between her winded condition and the weight of her camera equipment, she had her doubts that she'd succeed, except perhaps in breaking her neck or the expensive borrowed gadgets. Worse, she could see that the fence was part of what had been a secured yard of some sort, and even if she got over this obstacle, a second fence awaited not far beyond. She might find the strength to make it over one, but not two, not fast enough to make it worth the effort.
She was about to start back and was wondering how much longer she could manage to run before she collapsed like the last finisher in a double marathon when noises from around the corner of the alley behind her pushed other thoughts from her mind. The metallic grind and crash of an industrial garage door being opened was very loud, and was followed by the sounds of angry, garbled voices and heavy footsteps. There were also sounds disturbingly like that of flesh striking flesh, which suddenly caused Roxanne to wonder exactly where she'd wound up. The list of possibilities wasn't very long, and the flash from a particularly bright set of fireworks left no doubt when she saw the graffiti on the wall of the building to her right. She'd wandered into Gangland, in a dead end alley, after dark.
Damn.
She heard the noises of people coming her way, unfriendly noises no doubt caused by unfriendly people, and she immediately looked for a place to hide, knowing that running was not an option here. Fortunately, the alley was not empty. Though the wall to her right was solid brick, without so much as a door or a window, that on the left had several large dumpsters and assorted trash cans shoved up against it. The dumpsters were not empty, and there was no time to dig a space for herself inside one, even had she been so inclined. But there was a gap between two of the big metal bins, partially covered by one opened lid, and big enough for her to conceal herself in its shadows. It was her best option, and she took it. She dove into that gap and pulled herself into the cover of darkness just in time to avoid being seen by the group of hoods coming around the corner.
And she had no doubt that these were hoodlums, members of one of the nastier gangs, by their colors, a group known for drug dealing and even more unsavory activities. From her hiding place, Roxanne had a remarkably unimpeded view of them as they came to a stop.
There were seven in all, four of them large, burly men who well earned the description of "muscle." In pairs, they held captive two other men, who, by comparison, looked as skinny as Megamind. The seventh man had led them into the cul-de-sac, and in the eerie flashes of multi-colored light from the fireworks, his gaunt face made Roxanne recoil. She had seen pictures of people that reminded her of him — in slasher movies and in police sketches of criminals wanted for crimes that would make those cinematic villains seem like amateurs. It was the face of an insane mind, capable of all too reasoned but senseless acts to appease some unknowable inner need. It was the face of raw fear, and Roxanne had never thought to see it in the flesh, so close. Almost without thinking, she brought up her camera with the night lens, carefully setting it to silent operation so as not to draw attention to herself. In the long run, capturing this face and anything that might come next could be worth more to her career as an investigative reporter than any exposé involving fake superheroics.
"Over here," the gaunt man said brusquely, motioning for the thugs to hold their captives against the wall. A detached part of Roxanne's mind thought that professionally, this was perfect, as it gave her and her camera a clear view. The captives struggled as they were pinned against the wall, their curses giving way to pleading.
"Look, Blade, look, you—you don't have to do it! It's like we told your boss, it wasn't our fault this time! Dirk's girl found the money an' took it — go bleed it outta him, he's the one who let her keep it!"
"Yeah, Blade, th-that's th-the truth, I s-swear!" the second captive stammered, his eyes wild with fear. "Dirk's th-the guy you w-want!"
"Really," the gaunt man, Blade, said in a toneless voice that made Roxanne's blood run cold. "And how did Dirk's girl find it in the first place? That money and the goods should've been in Rock's hands three weeks before those two came back to town."
"We couldn't get it to him!" the first captive swore. "The narcs were watchin' us — if we'd made a move to deliver, they'd've nabbed us an' Rock an' all the rest of you, too!"
Blade made a casually disdainful sniff as he took something from his pocket, studying it as if it were vastly more interesting than anything they had to say. "Yes, we've all heard the story. So sad, so noble of you to protect us. And such bullshit. I don't think we need to hear it again." His narrowed eyes glanced at the thugs.
With obedient pleasure, they struck the captives to shut them up, first punching them in the gut to wind them, then clubbing their heads with solid, possibly weighted, fists until their victims were reduced to whimpers. "Not too hard, now," Blade admonished his cohorts with a chilling parody of concern. "This won't be any fun at all if they aren't awake to enjoy it."
The heavies seemed a little disappointed, but followed instructions. "Let's get this over with, Blade," one suggested. "The cops won't stay busy between that gas main explosion Rock set an' the lakefront mobs much longer."
One of the other thugs agreed. "I don't see why we just didn't take care of this inside," he said a little nervously, glancing skyward. "That Metro bastard could spot us out here..."
Blade waved it off. "Ah, that was the whole point of the explosion, to give our precious superhero some real threat to his beloved citizens to keep him occupied for a while." He spoke distractedly as he removed the sheath from what Roxanne could now see was a long, gleamingly sharp knife that looked like some kind of demonic surgical scalpel. "You know how Rock hates the smell of blood in his place, and we had to give him and the rest of the boys a few minutes to leave the area, just in case. But you're right, I think it's time to get down to business."
With that, the seemingly laconic man suddenly moved, turning to the more vocal of the two prisoners. With deft slashes almost too fast for the eye to follow, he sliced away the front of his victim's clothing, causing only the smallest of nicks to the man's skin. The captive screamed, the sound neatly covered by the thunder of the fireworks.
Though she couldn't see his face, Roxanne could hear the insane smile in Blade's voice. "Did you find that unpleasant, Billy? So sorry. Here, let's see how you enjoy this." And the gaunt man moved again, still with astonishing speed, this time using his knife with all the deadly skill of Jack the Ripper. Billy screamed, then fell silent with an awful, gurgling wail.
He worked so fast, Roxanne didn't have a chance to close her eyes against the horrifying sight. The shock of what she had just seen registered as the murdered man slumped in the grip of the thugs, who were trying to avoid getting soaked in his blood. Roxanne, frozen in shock, didn't hear Blade when he told the heavies, "Dispose of him." All she saw was the mutilated body being dragged in her direction. When it was hoisted up and heaved into one of the dumpsters beside her, her entire body shook from waves of terrified revulsion — and the camera slipped from her hands and fell clattering to the pavement.
Blade and the two thugs nearest her stiffened, hearing the metallic sound. "What's that?" the executioner snapped, rousing Roxanne, making her scrabble farther back into the shadows, hoping to become one of them, to escape this unexpected nightmare. One of the two heavies spotted the fallen camera. He jerked his head toward Roxanne's hiding place as he bent to pick it up, and his partner abruptly shouldered the dumpster aside, moving it far enough to reveal the hiding woman. He grabbed her roughly, hauling her to her feet as the other thug showed Blade the camera.
The killer saw what his henchman was pointing to, a property of KMCP tag glued to the camera. He smiled, horribly. "Ah, a newsie. Spying on our business, or just looking for a scoop, my dear?" he asked as she was pulled forward, now in the grip of the two who'd held the first victim. "Did you get a clear view of things, hm? Close enough to satisfy your curiosity? No? Then how lucky for you, you'll have a second chance to see anything you just missed."
His insanely smirking face suddenly went colder than the dead of space, his eyes as lifeless. "Hold her," he told the muscle restraining her, his voice causing the alley's sweltering heat to suddenly turn to arctic chill. "Make sure she doesn't miss a thing. I'm sure she'll enjoy knowing just what's in store for her — after she pays the price for intruding, of course."
The heavies dragged her forward, hardly noticing her best struggles. "You can't do this!" she began, and was promptly clubbed from behind, hard. Her vision swam and her head spun, the pain effectively silencing her. She thought for a moment that she might pass out, but the wave of aching dizziness passed much too quickly. The pain persuaded her against speaking again, for even the sound of her own breath was agonizing.
Blade motioned for the other two thugs to pin their captive against the brick wall. The man's struggles had dwindled to abject whimpers of begging, pleading, promising anything to avoid the fate of his friend. Roxanne was being held so that she could see absolutely everything. She didn't want to, and as she closed her eyes to shut it out, someone grabbed the hair above her forehead and yanked it and her skin back, hard, forcing her eyes to open.
Blade's eyes — not dark, no, but pale, too pale, like glass windows into a soulless void, empty of warmth or conscience — locked with hers, his expression the most unholy thing Roxanne would ever see. His lips twitched in a death rictus parody of a smile, and this time moving slowly, carefully, oh so precisely, he went to work, each grisly, deadly movement burned forever in the screaming recesses of Roxanne's mind.
To be continued...