A/N: Sorry for the delay everybody, I've been to New York City and Philadelphia last week while dealing with one hell of a chest cold. I've also been trying to get back into meditation and spiritualism so it can be difficult writing heavy, dark material when I'm trying to get in touch with inner peace. This chapter (for the criminals) is much lighter in tone only because dark humor seems to fit them. For the "good guys", this is heavy.

Redux 3: There Goes My Hero

"I Feel Fear for the Last Time…"

Chapter Six:

"Hmm, what's this?" The bloodshot green eyes of a married father scan the writing left on the black-coated refrigerator with all the enthusiasm of a teenage goth. "Gar, your daughter wants animal toys…" Stifling a small laugh on his part at her successful attempt at literary sarcasm, his eyes read on. "We'll be home some time after lunch. Don't forget Kristy turns two this weekend. – Rachel."

Yawning with all the grace of a lion in the savannah, he dutifully taps his head for the mental note. Once the idea finally sinks in that he'll be alone today, something akin to a smile etches across that face of his."Well, if the girls are gonna be out all morning, can't hurt to work on the ol' hobby."

An hour later Garfield steps into a rather cynically-named gun store by the name of "Bullet Bryson's Gun Sales." For the war-scarred man behind the counter, the sight of the tall, green man with the black case strung over his shoulder means business… and maybe catching up with an old customer. "Mornin' Watchman, I haven't seen you in some time."

Putting down the case on the glass display, Gar shrugs with a tinge of guilt. "Bryson, you know I don't use that name anymore. Besides, I've been too busy with the wife and daughter to get some practice in. Hell, I'm not even supposed to be here."

Keeping an eye on the tall man across the glass, he doesn't shy away from eyeing up Gar's Mossberg 590A1 shotgun. "Ah still have the old twelve gauge? I had thought you would've traded up by now since the Army traded up?"

Gesturing for a box of shells, Gar comments on his signature weapon. "Now now, she's old but she's reliable. She's saved my life more times than… well…"

"Bet she did. You here to buy some rounds or you wanna take a few shots in the back?"

Looking towards the door in the back of the room, then back to Bryson… back to the door… back to Bryson. "Wife's gonna be pissed…"

Taking that as a yes, he nods towards the rear with a smile on his face. "C'mon, I'll even set the targets up for you."


March 22, 2011

Raven hadn't exactly planned to be standing in an old clinic in North Jump; it just seemed right at the moment. No Titans, no Illuminati hitmen, no League… A good place to center one's self, form some balance in the mind following the other day's action with the Black Ghost.

"Raven, you… what did you do to him?"

"I'm not sure… He was going to cut Gar's head off. I stopped him, said something, and then everything went black."

Nightwing's voice finishes in her head with the same words she'd been hearing for the past 48 hours. "He's comatose, he won't respond to anything. It's like he's a blank slate inside. Raven, did you do to him what you did to Doctor Light?"

Palming her face, the empath can only wonder that herself. "I didn't mean to rip his mind out like that; I just wanted him to get away from Gar." No replies this time, no memory of Nightwing to respond to, only the sound of quiet mice and wind can fill the void inside this derelict room. "Maybe I've been taking this too seriously. If I'm going to terrorize every person close to Gar, I'll just keep hurting more and more people until I hurt him too."

Thankfully both her Titan communicator and League earpiece are turned off lest one of the Titans' tries another pep-talk like Cyborg tried to give. He did try, she can credit him on that, but it took a long time to clear up the fear after she terrorized Dr. Light, this will take just as long if not longer if the Black Ghost doesn't recover. Still palming her face, the bitter irony happens to enter her mind as she looks about the place once again. "You'd probably laugh at me right now if you saw where I was right now. The only place in the Bay Area I can go to get away from everything around you is the first place you made home when you left us. You left the Tower to make a follow a different path, I left to make a better life… We've come full circle."


For a large man in Jump City County lockup, the loss of poker cards and his cross necklace is as hateful as the fact he's had to sit next to a intoxicated, recently "enlightened" drug abuser with a bad accent. At least they've let him keep his bible, a small relief in a building that's anything but. "Keep it down, rabbithead, or I'll rip that mouth of yours right out."

Patting him on the shoulder rather bluntly, albeit unintentionally, his cellmate laughs it off. "Look, I don't mean to slur, but the rabbit takes time to get through me… I can't just…"

Beating him in the head with the bible, John the Baptist snarls a bit to vent his irritation. "You can and you will lest you see the true God sooner than God intended!"

"Hey, Baptist, keep your hands off the rabbithead. Your attorney's here to see you so keep your hands off the nice lady."

Popping up an eyebrow at sound of his defender being a woman, he dutifully rises to his feet to meet her at the bars. His curiosity quickly slides into inner-wisdom as he notices his lovely public defender happens to have red eyes. "And what do I owe this visit, miss?"

Casting a look at the guard down the hall, Rose Desade doesn't approve of him eyeing up her black skirt or what's under said dress. "We're here to discuss the terms of your release, Mr. Reilly, not waste my time away from the office."

Sly and slick as ever, the hitman for hire merely nods and smiles that much wider. "So, ma'am, what are the terms of my release?"

From her briefcase, she produces a bible unlike his other one. "For one thing, they aren't giving the appropriate version of the King James."

Standing up now, the guard raises his hand to protest. "Ma'am, you can't hand anything to the prisoner, he…"

A second time she snaps a glare at him, this one much colder than before. "You deny my client his basic constitutional right to worship his own religion in his own way? How about we go upstairs and file charges against you for violating the first amendment?" Knowing his role, the guard promptly sits his ass back in his seat. No need for a complaint, he doesn't need a third glare from those red eyes.

"Thank you for the good book. May the Lord smile upon you for keeping me in contact with Him."

Hiding her own smile at the plan unfolding so smoothly, she maintains her character to remind him. "In fifteen minutes I'll be meeting with my staff to discuss how to proceed with your case. I'm sure we can work out a deal with your employer as to proper working arrangement providing you behave yourself. This won't be a long meeting so make sure you do some quick praying with that God of yours. Have a good day, Mr. Reilly."

No sooner than those fifteen minutes after Rose's departure, the bible is opened to reveal a hollow insert inside. No, they don't explode nor shine with magnesium light but these cards are razor sharp. All it takes is a thought and those cards embed themselves into the rabbithead, the guard, the cell lock, and the camera at the end of the hall. "Rose Desade, you devil you, thank you for making the Lord's work easier on me. Now, how about I got meet up with that lady and her staff?"


"Sometimes I wonder if this deal's any better than Grodd's. I try to make a little money off the religious fuck and he goes and gets himself caught just he can split the deal with Ghost. Hell, I'm glad the little shit got his mind raped but now I gotta break that zealot out of County, gettin' my name in the paper again…"

If Atomic Skull's grumbling wasn't bad enough, hearing the alarms going off at the County lockup are even worse. Something or rather someone seems to be making an early exit. "Heh, my money's on the Baptist."


The pain in his shoulder notwithstanding, the fogginess in George Harkness's head doesn't seem from trauma but rather from anesthetics. Groggy, tried, the Central City criminal struggles to form words. "What's… going…?"

With the grace of a rapier through flesh, Bulletface Bryson wakes up the Australian with a sharp backhand across the cheek. "Wake up, Boomerang! Plenty of time to sleep when you're dead."

Still out of it, the Aussie wonders aloud in the darkness. "Didn't know you had Flagg on the payroll… where is the old badger at?"

"Put the light in his face; wake this piece of shit up!"


Standing outside and around their van, the remaining Desades seem rather surprised as the Baptist simply strolls out of County, bloody cards in his hands, but doesn't appear to be bothered by them in the slightest.

"Is it just me or he just downright creepy?"

Smacking her goon upside the head, Rose doesn't seem to appreciate the comment. "He can cut our heads off with a single thought, dipshit, don't piss him off!"

Stepping up to the van, the Baptist remains unconcerned regarding the alarms going off in the building behind him. "So… is this the famed Rose Desade gang?"

"We're all that's left. We got about twenty guys all together; we could really use your help."

Looking behind his back, it appears they have some heavy-duty company. "So it would seem."

"BAPTIST!" There's more than one in Rose's group looking scared as the Atomic Skull comes tearing through the parking lot. "Get the fuck back here, NOW!"

Tearing her eyes from the Illuminati metahuman, Rose puts a hand on the broad shoulder of the Baptist. "We don't have much money but we want the Watchman's head on a plate."

Turning to the daughter of Desade, the killer gambler offers a smile. "Call it an investment."

Seeing the group scatter into their vans, the green-glowing criminal howls with hate. "Oh you did NOT just ditch me! This time I'M tearing off your head!" Before he can get a shot off with his powers, the vans make haste and bolt. Reinforcement police appear to be incoming but not before he spots a guard shooting at the vans from a parked bike. "I always wanted to ride an iron horse."


Still drugged out of his mind, Boomerang tries to keep from slurring too badly but it's no use, Daiyu's drug just was a little too strong. "Oh this is just great; he's higher than the damn Watchtower!"

"Hey boss, you might want to come check this shit out."

Waving off his hired henchman, Bryson's too busy pacing to give a damn about, well, whatever it is.

"No seriously boss, you're gonna flip over this."

Both of them getting on his nerves, the urge to resist finally gives way to frustrated defeat. "Fine, what the fuck's so important that I have to come over here and…. Oh you have to be kidding me?"


"Yes we're following a high speed chase through Downtown Jump City where it appears JCPD are in pursuit of several vans believed to be transporting the Baptist… and, hold on, this just in… They're also in pursuit of a police bike being driven by the Illuminati's Atomic Skull who also happens to be trailing the Baptist!"

"What's that? Are you saying the police are chasing the Baptist or are they chasing both?"

The JCN chopper veers to avoid a building but does it's damndest to keep the camera on the chase. "The JCPD are chasing after the Baptist who just broke out of Jump City County in a bloody scene… And it appears the Atomic Skull's following behind on a police motorbike for reasons we haven't yet heard about."


Dodging several bullets fired his way; the Atomic Skull keeps his eyes firmly locked on the vans eluding him. Using his fire attacks would be easy but getting his pick in the bet back alive is more important than revenge. "Get your motor runnin'… head out on the highway… lookin' for adventure… and whatever comes MY way!"

Looking in his side mirror, the driver in Rose and Baptist's van looks more and more worried. "Haven't you guys shot him yet? He looks like the fucking Ghost Rider back there!"

Chuckling to himself, the Baptist has to admit. "Huh, never thought of that." What he also didn't think about was how sharp the turn was leading onto the Bay Bridge. Rather comically the occupants of the van are thrown to one side as the vehicle executes a near ninety degree turn. "Careful you idiot!"


Rubbing his temples, Bulletface finds himself slumping down into a chair. "Between Daiyu drugging Captain Australia and the Baptist back out on the street, I don't think I can take much more of this. Someone get me a drink."


Hearing voices in her head isn't something too far out of place given her division of emotions running loose in Nevermore. However, when the voice in question sounds a lot like the Question but more sinister, one begins to wonder about their sanity.

"Who said that?"

A quaint laughter in her head sounds more ominous than jovial. "I suppose you haven't been watching the news, little raven. You've been sulking in Watchman's home for so long that I'll wager you haven't even heard the latest development."

There's no more caution there, only irritation. "I don't know who you are but entering my mind isn't a good idea."

"If you think talking to yourself will scare me, you better shed your wings and become a bat. Only bats can frighten me."

Looks like Gar wasn't kidding when he said he had a "visitor" in his head every so often. "Scarecrow I presume?"

"The one and only."

"What do you want?"

There's another sort of chuckle on his part although far less mean than before. "You can start by turning on the news or flying over to the Bay Bridge, that'd be a nice start indeed. Don't wait too long, you'll miss an opportunity to say hello to the Baptist."


Opening the throttle even more, Atomic Skull catches a break as the Desades try to reload. Moving his bike out of their line of fire, he speeds up to the side of his target. There's a certain tingle in his spine as he's sure the driver has pissed his pants in fear. Flipping off a glowing ember of a middle finger, the Atomic Skull yells over the rush of wind. "Pull over, you got a busted tail light!"

Rose jumps in front of the driver, almost sending the van careening out of control. "Fuck you dirtbag!"

Easing off the gas as she fires several shots at him, it seems this can only be done the hard way. "Hate to leave a perfectly good bike but this is gonna take some muscle." Leaping off the bike, the Illuminati strongman latches onto the side of the van, digging in with his powerful hands.

"Don't stop now, we're gonna shake him off."

"WHAT?!"

"I said DON'T STOP NOW, WE'RE GONNA…"

"WHAT?! I CAN'T HEAR YOU! YOU FUCKING PULLED THE TRIGGER RIGHT NEXT TO MY HEAD!"

Looking as calm and nonchalant as possible despite the glowing green embers forming on the wall, the Baptist merely gestures towards the problem. While he's just as deaf as his associates in the vehicle, it seems his wits are more about him than the driver. "ROSE! CUT THE SIDE OFF!"

"What?"

"CUT THE SIDE OFF!"

"What?"

"CUT…. THE… GODDAMN…"

"OH!"

Snickering at the fear his entry will bring the passengers, Atomic Skull rips at the metal with extra intensity. "A few more seconds and I'll met this shit right…"

The problem isn't getting through the metal, the problem happens to be a claw of a hand cutting four lines around his body in a rectangle. Before the criminal realizes, the section of the van he'd been holding onto happens to drop right off the vehicle like bad luggage. There's a mixture of pain from hitting the asphalt at speed, cursing from being dropped at said speed, more cursing from nearly being run over by a few cop cars, and one long groan of pain as his scratched up body comes to a stand still two hundred feet along the Bay Bridge. "I hate this city…" If he hated the city before hand, seeing a woman hovering above him in the sky just brings the bitterest taste of radiation and hate the world will ever know.


"Hey, Bryson, would you mind if I took some shots by myself?"

Surprised by the odd request, the store owner has to double check that one. "Any reason? I won't interrupt or anything."

Looking down the range, the eyes of Gar don't seem quite so bright. "Got some old demons to deal with; I haven't done this in some time."

"Guess that comes with the job, right? Ok, I'll be out here when you're done. Aim well."

The shooting begins slowly, softly, one shot to the chest, another to the head. Each bullet comes out smooth from the black barrel, hardly any recoil on the shoulder. "Seemed like a cannon when I was younger."

The next few shots come faster, this time moving up the chest towards the neck. Bang, lung. Bang, throat. Bang…. Bang…. Bang…

In his vision he can see a white target and a black wall behind it but in his mind there's people, buildings. Men in suits with automatic weapons, Chinese Triads with handguns, drug pushers… Bang… Irish fighters and a drunken boss singing with a swaggering, bass-lined voice… Bang… A woman this time, set on fire as the bullet strikes her. Click. That sound doesn't register in his head, only the sound of a shot enters the void inside his ears. While the gun doesn't fire, he can practically feel another round leaving the gun, this time taking out a man in a bookie joint. Another empty pump, another empty pull of the trigger, this time a hired gun has his knee cap blown off.

Click… click… click…

Then the tears come like they used to back then. With hands shaking and the barrel's sight losing focus, the grim reality of his life bursts through the walls he'd so cleverly built since meeting his wife in that park. The child they'd both helped create would grow up in the shadow of a man who brought justice to Jump City through gunfire and animalistic terror. She'd never know how he'd gotten the money to live in their house nor why daddy doesn't let her in the basement. Hard to explain why there's a bloody trench coat, guns, knives, grenades, and too many pictures of friends he's lost along the way sitting all alone, hidden from the world under their house.

Like it or not, there's no way he could go back to being the Watchman, not when his little Kristy and beautiful wife Rachel look to him as the man of the house. He's a father and a husband now, living in abandoned buildings simply cannot happen any more. If he's to make a better life for his daughter and wife, Garfield Mark Logan must finally put the Watchman behind him. Otherwise, there's the possiblity that the two women left in his life just might see the grave before he's had a chance to be buried. That's no longer an option for the former vagrant vigilante.


Edited, a reluctant thank you to Anonymous Void for pointing out the many errors this chapter had.

A/N2: Gar's missing all the fun. Why's Baptist fleeing from Atomic Skull? I don't think he's really "Illuminati" material, he's just in things for the cash. While Rose might not have a lot of cash, their goals (and history) tend to coincide. The Ghost Rider reference came to me today thinking how similiar Atomic Skull and Ghost Rider would look riding bikes together. Ever notice whenever Raven's not around Gar, she's not in his dream?

Trivia:
- Gorilla Grodd shoutout.
- Steppenwolf's "Born to be Wild" sung by Atomic Skull.
- Ghost Rider of Marvel fame.

Rhetorical:
Rose Desade is quickly becoming fun to write as a fucked up criminal. She's pretty much stupid (shooting next to her driver's head, the dumbass) but also darkly funny. By the way, Gar's "dream" is starting to crack.