James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned (or any other) copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.
VI
Because a thing is difficult for you, do not therefore suppose it to be beyond mortal power. On the contrary, if anything is possible and proper for a man to do, assume that it must fall within your own capacity. – Marcus Aurelius, Meditations.
Logan typed away on his keyboard, beginning to wonder if there was anyone that knew anything about the vigilante named Justice. He had already hacked into the Seattle Police Department, the Seattle District Attorney's Office, every local paper, and City Hall. No one seemed to be gathering any information on Justice's activities, which only made Logan that much more suspicious. He had already heard from three police officers that the force had begun looking into the matter, but thus far there was no sign that the task force had uncovered any information. It was beginning to get discouraging.
He tried to think of anyone else in the city that might know something about Justice, but decided that he needed to take at least a short break in order to clear his head. Working for over twelve hours at a time would fog up the clearest mind, and he was not going to do any good in his present condition. Logan wheeled himself out into the kitchen and went over to the refrigerator, opening it and immediately settling his eyes upon the two racks of ribs that he had ordered a month earlier. He planned to make them the main course in a wonderful dinner for Max, but now he was becoming more and more concerned that she would get herself killed before he had a chance to prepare his small feast.
The phone began to ring as he reached in to get a chilled bottle of Strawberry Yoo-hoo, and Logan immediately spun his wheelchair around and grabbed the cordless on the counter, hoping it would be Max. He had to make a point of inviting her over sometime soon, before the ribs went bad.
"Hello?" he asked.
"Logan," Detective Lane's voice said from the other end of the line. "I think I might have a lead for you on that vigilante Eyes Only is interested in."
"What have you got?" Logan asked excitedly, already reaching for a pen and a small pad of paper.
"There was a huge shootout last night at a drug lab someone set up in an old warehouse," Lane explained. "A bunch of people got killed, but there're a few that survived. One of them is apparently an eye-witness that got a pretty good look at the guy."
"How good a look?"
"Seems this Justice guy got close enough to cave in our suspect's sternum," Lane answered. "I hear that Justice was wearing some kind of black cloak that hid his face, but you could at least get something."
"So is he talking?"
"Well, he already spilled his guts to our task force as part of a plea bargain, but I'll bet he'd talk to you, too."
"Why's that?" Logan asked.
"Well, seems the guy wants to be some kind of infamous super-criminal that's always making headlines," Lane explained, his tone making it clear that he didn't see the point any more than Logan himself did. "He's probably seen too many of the old pre-Pulse gangster movies or something. Anyway, if you promise to get his name out there and help him get some kind of bad-ass rep, I'm sure he'll play ball."
"Great," Logan muttered. "So where can I find him?"
"Mercy Hospital, Room 211," Lane answered. "There are a couple of police guards, but I'll tell them you're going over. Give 'em each a hundred bucks and they'll probably give you a half-hour with the guy."
"Thanks," Logan said. "I'm heading over there right now." He hung up the phone and grabbed his keys off of the counter, not bothering to put on a jacket as he headed for the door. He simply hoped he would get something useful, something that could help him end Justice's personal war and thus help protect Max.
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After ten minutes with Cesar Alfonzo, Logan had already decided that all he was really likely to get was a ghost story he might be able to tell his nieces and nephews someday. Despite his disappointment, though, he had Cesar repeat his story again, hoping that this time he would be able to get a little more detail.
"So you were in the lab working," Logan prompted, bringing a smile to Alfonzo's face.
"Thas right, man," Cesar answered. "I was in there making the drugs, like I always do. I'm really good, y'know? Cameron Dean always comes to me when they's have problems with production."
"That's great," Logan replied, deciding to stroke Alfonzo's ego a slight bit. "So everything was going fine before the explosion? There was no sign that you were about to get hit?"
"No, nuttin," Cesar confirmed with a wide grin, apparently pleased with the portrayal of his role in Cameron Dean's criminal operations. "There I was, you know, workin' on the dryin' pans, and all of a sudden one of the windows blows into the place and the floor shakes, you know?" Logan nodded. "So's I tell the guards to get ready, that someone is prob'ly gonna come in and start shooting up the place."
"And that's when the guy came in?" Logan continued.
"Yeah, he like, appeared outta nowhere," Cesar said, his face paling a bit as he retold the story. Logan was pleased with the fact that he was able to at least conclude that Alfonzo had truly been frightened. Everything else about his depiction of the attack seemed questionable, though. "So he comes in, kicking the door off its hinges, and he's all like, 'I'm gonna kill all of you, real slow, like.' Then he glared at me. I guess he musta known I was in charge or somethin'. Then he started kicking the guards around, movin' like the wind and throwin' them around like they was rag dolls and all."
"Of course," Logan commented. "Now how big did you say he was?"
"He was like, maybe six and a half feet tall," Cesar answered. And of course, just a few minutes ago Justice was apparently at least 6'10". This has got to be complete bull.
"So you told your men to kill him," Logan continued.
"Yeah, I told 'em to whack the guy, but Justice, man, he just like leapt into the air and pulled out a sword."
"A sword," Logan interrupted, making a note that apparently Justice's weapon could have been either a quarterstaff or a sword, depending on which time Cesar was telling the story. He wondered how many times he would have to listen to the tale before he would hear that Justice had come in with a rocket launcher.
"Yeah, he had a sword," Cesar said with a nod. "It was like he was toyin' with us or somethin'. He kept whacking my boys in the head with the flat part of the blade, you know?" Again, Logan nodded, though he stopped taking notes and instead began writing a grocery list of things he would need to go with the baby back ribs in his refrigerator. "Yeah, and I picked up a metal rod from the floor, and I started going at it with the guy, but then I slipped on some pills that had spilt, and then he punched me in the chest."
"I see. Then what happened?"
"Then he takes his sword and cuts Rico across the throat, and just laughs at him while he dies."
"He laughed?" Logan asked as he made a note to get a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.
"Yeah, he laughed, and then she spat on him," Cesar said.
"Wait a second," Logan said suddenly, taking his eyes off his notepad and driving his gaze into the back of Cesar's eyes. "Did you say 'she'?"
"What?" Cesar asked.
"She spat on him?"
"No, he spat on him," Cesar replied.
"No, you said she."
"I said he."
"No, you didn't," Logan replied. "I was listening to you the whole time."
"Why would I say it was some dude that came in there if it was really some bitch?" Cesar asked.
"Oh, I don't know," Logan replied. "Maybe you just figured it would be bad for your rep if people found out a woman put you in the hospital."
"It wasn't a woman, man, y'know? I mean it, man."
"I think I've heard enough," Logan said, ignoring Cesar's surprised expression as he wheeled himself toward the door, trying to suppress the increasing feeling of nausea in his stomach. Justice is a woman. He could hardly believe it. Part of him kept repeating over and over that Cesar had really just misspoken, that Justice was a man. In his heart, though, Logan knew it wasn't true. He knew as soon as he heard the word 'she' that he was really looking for a woman. The logical inference of that knowledge is what really put him on edge.
It couldn't be, he tried telling himself. Max isn't like that. She couldn't do those things. No sooner had he tried to convince himself than another voice in his head pointed out facts that he had always known, but had been afraid to face. She was genetically engineered to be a killer, he reminded himself. She was raised from birth in a brutal environment where might made right. You can't really believe that something like that wouldn't be traumatic. You're always brooding about how your father was an elitist snob who wanted nothing more than to instill the same attitude in you. Well, her 'father' was a borderline sociopathic soldier hell-bent on making Max and her siblings into more dangerous versions of himself. You can't seriously believe she isn't carrying around some serious emotional baggage.
Once he was outside the hospital again, Logan took several deep breaths, hoping the cool air would somehow bring him to his senses, as if he had been delusional up until that point. It didn't work. Logan knew in his gut that Max was Justice. He had no evidence, and could not even think of how it had happened, but he trusted the instincts he had always had, and which had only gotten more acute after he had become a journalist.
I need proof before I can really believe it, he decided. I can't even confront her until I know for certain. Somehow he knew, though, that his search for information would start to get easier. Now he had a better idea of what to look for. Now he knew that the target of his search was his closest friend in the world.
To be continued.............................