Chapter 1: Commencement

It was a very subtle ad, practically hidden in the classified section of Soldier of Fortune Magazine. But it caught Captain Dante's eye for two reasons. He was very interested in the service that the ad offered, he wanted to use it and, more than likely, he wanted to break it up. The ad read simply:

Wanna get someone?

Call 1-800-PAY-BACK

He looked at the paper for a moment, deciding exactly how he wanted to play this. It could be tricky, it could go either way. He wanted to give this assignment to someone who was competent enough to pull it off but who was fresh enough to be dispensable. The more he thought about it the more he realized that there was no choice. He folded the paper in half and sat up in his desk. "Copper!" yelled at a uniformed officer who was walking past his door."

"Yes sir?" the man asked, pausing at the captain's door.

"Get me McCartey, would you?"

"Yes sir," the officer said and only moments later Jake McCartey was standing in front of him.

McCartey was a one-of-a-kind guy, which wasn't necessarily a good thing in Dante's book. Jake was smarter than any of the other cops in the bullpen, with the possible exception of Pezzini, but he was also the slowest. So often he just didn't seem to get it, which could be the very crafted act of a man who was sent to observe and trap or the bumbling mental slackness which is only to be expected of a boy who grew up in sunny California and who''s first dream was being a championship surfer. Either way it made Jake just a little bit dangerous, and a little bit more expendable than most.

"You wanted to see me sir?" Jake asked, his voice attentive despite the weariness in his bright blue eyes.

"Yeah, McCartey," Dante said casually, "come in and why don't you close the door behind you?"

Jake did as he was told.

"Take a seat."

Again, Jake obeyed, waiting patiently, almost eagerly, for whatever the captain had to give him.

"I've been thinking about the whole Pezzini mess," Dante started, glancing at Jake. The younger man's ice cold eyes betrayed nothing. "I was wondering if you'd have any new thoughts to offer."

"She's spooked," Jake said, as if he was talking about a wild horse they were trying to tame. "I've been trying to get to her since that mess at the tv station but she's being a little more than evasive . . . you shouldn't have shot at her, sir."

"She attacked me at night in my bed, what else am I supposed to do?" Dante snapped back. Jake didn't have an answer. The boy was still hung up on his pretty training officer, it was a shame, but not an insurmountable problem, Dante thought. "The point is, she's still out there and she is gonna come back and make our lives hell if we don't do something but soon, you understand?"

"A hundred percent sir."

"And I was further thinking that, since we are so understaffed, it might be a good thing to try and hit two birds with one stone."

"How so?" Jake asked, when most officers would have just nodded and said 'yes sir.' He was sharp, Dante had to give him that.

"Take a look at this," the Captain said, handing Jake the paper and pointing out the small ad. "It seems to me that we, ah, do want to get somebody and, ah, also whatever activity they're engaged in is gonna have to be extra-legal if you know what I mean."

"Yes sir," Jake said slowly. He was thinking, maybe just a little more than Dante would have liked.

"What I want you to do is sick those guys on Pezzini and when the time is right we get them all."

Jake nodded, he got it. "A bust gone bad, somehow they shot one of the investigating officers before we were able to get them."

"Exactly," Dante said, smiling unashamedly.

"Which means our boys'll have to shoot whoever's behind this."

"Naturally."

"And the money, somehow, disappears."

"Sometimes you just never get all the pieces."

Jake nodded, he was smiling too, but something in his eyes betrayed uneasiness. "I'm all over it Captain."

"That's my boy."

* * *

Jake walked back to his desk with the magazine in his hands. His hands were sweating and he absentmindedly wondered if it would wrinkle the thin, glossy, pages.

He collapsed into his rickety office chair that had the sticky wheel and stared at the empty space in front of him that used to be filled with Sara. Or at least was occasionally filled with Sara. With a sigh he put the paper in front of him, on top the half dozen manilla folders that contained information regarding actual cases. He grabbed the phone with a little more violence than he should have and it made an unsatisfactory clatter as he dropped it in front of him. Cradling the receiver in between his ear and his shoulder he carefully punched in the eleven. There was one ring and then a computer generated voice that said "Wanna get someone. Leave a message." Then a short beep. Jake waited for a second, unsure if the message was over, but he quickly realized that the long space he was leaving before his message was becoming conspicuous. "Ah, hey," he said nervously, suddenly his lips were dry for no reason whatsoever. "My name's Jake and, ah, yeah, I want to get someone." he waited, just in case the call was being screened. When he realized that no one was going to pick up and he was leaving another awkward silence be began talking quickly. "So, ah, the deal is there's this girl and, ah, well it's not like I'm stalking her, but it's a complicated story. Anyway, ah, my cell is triple 5-3245 and, um, I'm willing to pay a lot to see this bitch go down." Jake hung up the phone quickly, as if he were setting something down that was burning him. He felt sick, he didn't want to get Sara at all. He wanted, more than anything, to help her. He didn't even, really, know with what. But he knew she needed help and with all of his youthful heart he wanted to give her that.

* * *

Gabriel Bowman hit enter and then he hit the jackpot. The story. He had hunted, and intended to continue to hunt for bits and pieces. But this was it, this was the answer to every question, even those they hadn't thought of yet. This was what every superhero needed and what every good mystic legend had, an origin.

The young man ate up the story, his brown eyes darting from line to line absorbing every bit of information he possibly could.

"For the tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil was the most beautiful tree in the garden. Its trunk was not a dirty brown, as all the other trees which bore good fruit, but rather it shone white in the sun, as if to blind those regarding it, and gleamed in the starlight as if it were made of silver. This tree's fruit was also the most beautiful, it shone like the darkest garnet and the juice was as thick and as dark as blood.

"Eve, as she plucked the forbidden fruit, tore off also a branch of this most beautiful tree, and as she bit into the fruit, and also persuaded Adam to do so, the juices of the fruit flowed into her and through her and mingled with her blood. And as she and her husband fled, realizing their shame and nakedness, she clung to the silvery branch, unwilling to leave any evidence of this first, great, sin.

"Even as they were cast out of the Garden and Eve wailed with repentance and grief, she clung to this evidence of her sin for hope of hiding her shame. But on their first night out of the garden, as Adam slept with the heaviness of his separation from God, Eve sat awake, crying. The yoke of guilt crushed her. She could accept her own lot, for she had betrayed her great and loving creator, but to have cursed Adam to the cold and ungiving world outside of the garden, and their children, and their children''s children and every child for all time, this was a burden she could not bear.

"'Oh Lord,' she cried, 'Though thou hast turned a cold ear to me, the daughter who betrayed you, I pray once more for your forgiveness. Not for the great evil which I have already performed, but for that which I must do to free the race from my wicked influence.'

"She walked to the dark pool next to the spot they slept. It was deep and the water was smooth as glass. When Eve approached it, meaning to slip under its waters and disappear into a world she did not and could not comprehend, she saw for the first time a reflection of her face. 'What is this ghost that looks like a woman?' Eve said, bewitched by her own beauty. 'Surely she is beckoning me to her cold world. Shall I go? I am not deserving of a welcome, I have betrayed my creator and condemned my children for all eternity, I should be banished to nothingness, not welcomed into a mirror world by this fair faced lady.'

"And while she was still looking the dark waters turned golden. Eve lifted her eyes and saw that the sky itself had become a sheet of gold and the light that shone on her was brighter than the noonday sun. Eve was filled with terror and she stumbled away from the glassy pool. She turned to Adam, who slumbered heavily from exhaustion at their new, hard, life, and saw that, standing next to him, was a great Man in robes whiter than white. His majesty overwhelmed the woman and she fell prostrate on the ground. 'Oh good and holy one,' she said. 'Surely you are a messenger of God. I beg you, cut me down where I lay, burn my flesh and consume my spirit. For I am a bane upon the earth, I am the most accursed of all creation, and only my end would bring a bright beginning to that which God in his wisdom created good.'

"The angel spoke, 'Daughter of the creator, child of heaven and earth, first among women, rise and know that you are loved yet by he who made you. I am the messenger Gabriel, come to tell you that, while you turned your face from the Good God, even this he can turn for good because he is the source of all that is noble and right. Know that no action may drive a person away from God eternally, that he is forgiveness as he is justice and he is grace as he is retribution.'

"'Forgiveness and Grace go to Adam. For me, I deserve no more than justice and retribution.'

"'Child of he who is and was and will be, lift your eyes and I will show you your portion of forgiveness and grace.'

"Eve's breast was filled with hope and she turned her eyes towards the glorious messenger and her eyes were filled with awe.

"'Go forth and bring to me the item of your guilt and the object which signifies your shame,' The Angel said to her. At his words Eve immediately rose and fetched that branch which she had kept and hid from Adam. The Angel took the branch from her and said, 'Now child, watch and learn. For when God in his goodness and grace takes that which is man's greatest shame, the sign of the evil that lays in the hearts of every man, and turns it to weapons of his glory. For as he transforms this, the symbol of your sin, he transforms your very soul.'

"The Angel reached down to Eve and commanded her to give him her hand. She obeyed and he placed the First Blade on her wrist.

"'Surely this is the greatest of God's graces,' Eve said. Then she raised her arms in gratitude and worshiped the Lord by lifting her voice in psalms of praise.

Gabriel blinked and backed away from the screen. Eve's psalm of praise went on for about 40ks, he wasn't up to 40ks of early Hebrew poetry, maybe in the morning. He stood up, yawned, stretched and looked critically towards his bedroom, it may only have been 1:30 in the morning, but it was definitely time for bed. But before he could collapse into the warm, comforting oblivion of sleep his phone rang. Gabriel rubbed his eyes and contemplated not answering it. It was late, after all, only weirdos would be calling this late. Weirdos and people who really needed to get in touch with him. With a tired sigh he picked up the phone, "Hey."

"I'm at the door," Sara Pezzini said almost like a demand.

"Right," Gabe sighed. He hung up the phone and, rubbing his eyes, trotted downstairs, to his apartment's street entrance. There was no one at the door, but that didn't bother him. As soon as he reached it a shadow appeared from the nearby alley. It floated in the door and didn't even stop to say hi as it started heading towards his apartment. Gabriel, with incredible patience for how tired he was, sighed and followed her up the stairs and into his place. "So what?" he asked once the door was safely closed and being locked. "Miss curfew at the homeless shelter?"

"No," Sara said. Her voice was trembling slightly, it may have been the middle of spring, but New York nights still got pretty cold. "I think Dante's on to me. Every shelter I went to needed to know my name, said it was because they suspected a young homeless woman fitting my description is wanted in connection with a murder."

"Wha'd you do?" he asked, his annoyance turning to concern. "Use an alias?"

"I didn't want to risk it," Sara said. "It would be ten times worse if someone realized I was lying about my name."

"You could'a just said you were Elizabeth Bronte," Gabriel offered. "I bet you two even have the same fingerprints."

"I'll keep that in mind for tomorrow night." Sara said as she started clearing off the couch.

* * *

This was almost becoming a ritual, she would call him up from the alley right next to his building if, for some reason, she wasn't able to sleep at a homeless shelter. He would go down and let her in. She'd stay the night on his couch and be gone before he woke up, leaving nothing more than a little note reading 'thanks'. At first Gabriel had resisted this routine, begging Sara to either set up permanent residence on his couch or at a hotel. He would gladly give her the dough to stay at different hotels every night, that wouldn't be a problem at all. It would make him feel a whole lot better. But Sara was tough and independent and after one argument in low tones and reasoned evidence, she had made him promise never to bring it up again. That was a promise he intended to keep, no matter how much it drove him nuts.

"So what do you do with yourself all day?" Gabriel asked, making conversation, hoping to draw Sara out. Every morning, with the exception of those he found the little 'thanks' note, he expected to see an article about her death in the paper. He didn't want her to just go to bed and then disappear without more than a few words, he wanted to make sure she knew he really cared and was more than a lot of big talk.

"Read, mostly." Sara said, she was sitting on the couch now and digging through her backpack for her toothbrush. "The library has newspaper articles on file going back forever. So far I've found about thirty that talk about a white bulls' killing."

"They say that?"

"All the signs are there," Sara said earnestly. "I mean, I can't prove any of them for sure, but the evidence I'm gathering is very compelling."

Gabriel nodded. "And what do you plan to do with all this evidence? You gonna go to the FBI?"

Sara sighed, "I don't know," she admitted. "But I have to do something."

Gabriel nodded and then, despite his ardent efforts to avoid it, yawned.

"You need to get to bed," Sara said, as if she were taking care of him and not the other way around.

"Yeah," the young man said. His desire to stay up and talk to Sara was superseded by his need for sleep. "I'll not see you in the morning."

"Thanks Gabriel," Sara said covering his graciousness and his willingness to not ask questions. "I really owe you."

"Just take care of yourself," Gabe said. "There are people who worry."

"Thanks," she said again. She wasn't going to tell him not to worry, they'd had that discussion before. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight Sara," he said as he slipped into his bedroom and closed the door. When he opened it again the next morning she was gone. The only evidence that she'd been there at all was a little post-it note on his computer screen reading 'thanks.'

To be Continued . . .