Clean Fall Chapter 5, an el tigre fanfic

Merry X-mas one and all… and that's about enough of that. It's been a hell of year, hasn't it? And to think, it's only going to get worse next year. Isn't that great? Yeah! Good times!

If you recall chapter 4… yeah, chapter 4, the cartel's leader was attacked by an unknown force. And I am going to have so much fun playing with that ambiguity! Keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times!

"This city deserves a new class of criminal… and I'm gonna' give it to 'em." - Heath Ledger as the Joker

Chapter 5, Dominance

Maltin Estate, 7:30 AM

An old, slightly beat up green car climbed to the top of a hill as it drove down the lonely country road. As was common in Mexico, it was an old model Volkswagen, humming contentedly as it was driven, despite many years of use. Detective Fitzgerald had many problems, most of which stemmed from being cousins with that blowhard Miguel Duhamel Fitzgerald, but not once in his life did he have a problem with his car. And as long as his old beetle ran, so too did he. He neared a turn off, one normally blocked by a cattle gate and a man with a machine gun, but today marked with a police cruiser, waving the detective down for a moment. Simple protocol: check IDs, and let VIPs through to the scene. Detective Fitzgerald sighed impatiently as the officer verified his identity, finally waving him through. He almost used up his last sick day today… but his colleagues insisted he come. Something bigger than usual, they said. And as he slowed to a stop on the estate grounds, the detective grimaced and sighed once more. He parked between two police cars, exiting slowly and surveying the ruin around him. Craters and scorch marks meant nothing to him… especially compared to the body count. Fitzgerald sought out his ex-partner, who had requested him specifically, not bothering to shield his eyes from the cloud-blocked sun.

"Well Fitz?"

"You were right… this is something big."

"Yep. Care to take the tour?"

"Lead the way, Borges."

"Well," Detective Borges led Fitzgerald to the first batch of bodies, casually strewn about like they were nothing. It was appropriate, really… the detectives didn't know it yet. "These men probably died first… as you can see."

"Not normal tactics…"

"That's right. We had to get a specialist in to figure it out, but it looks like these men were taken down by one enemy. We had no idea how they died at first… coroner said it was 'energy burns'."

"What?"

"Yeah, like plasma or something."

"Interesting…" Fitzgerald began, wandering off down the path, staring down at the dirt, slightly stained with blood. "But you're wrong about one thing."

"Oh? And that is?"

"They were dragged here, Borges. They were killed somewhere else, which means they didn't die first. They were probably killed execution style. Slow execution style, by the looks of it."

"So the bodies were moved here for our benefit?"

"Ours," Fitzgerald turned and looked at Detective Borges with a theory burning in his mind, "or another party's."

"… A warning?"

"Maybe. Show me the rest first."

"Alright… but it only gets worse."

Miracle City High School, 7:34 AM

Frida Suarez was walking slowly, as if she was sad, as she approached the school gates. But the smile she wore… it was warm enough to melt ice. She felt great, and when people saw her feeling great, they couldn't help but get infected with that obnoxious good feeling. Still… she felt a little bad that she was-.

"Hey Frida."

She froze then and there, eyes wide with disbelief, with stress, with the urge to smother with love blending uncontrollably with the urge to punish. Frida turned quickly, arms outstretched to her sides, staring at him.

"Manny?"

He stood smiling, waiting for a hug, or in the worst case, physical retaliation. Either way, he'd probably enjoy the contact. He could use a pick me up.

The Crime Scene, 7:46 AM

"This is…"

Detective Fitzgerald stood solemnly, shaking his head as he looked down the long line of bodies. Each one was strung to a fence pole by the neck, ensuring that they wouldn't be going anywhere as they were slowly clawed to death. And by the looks of it, the claws were razor sharp.

"Coroner says the wounds look like they were made by actual claws, like that of a cougar."

"My god…"

"Come on, Fitz," Borges waved towards the manor, starting off towards it himself. "This last one is… something else."

"I think maybe I should retire soon…"

The School, 7:49 AM

"What? I got somethin' on my face?"

"Manny…"

"Yeah…" Manny replied quietly, giving Frida a calculating look now. "Frida… you've been saying that for a while now. Aren't you gonn-."

"What are you doing here?"

"Goin' to school. It's been two weeks… I'm sure all my teachers are lookin' forward to seeing me again."

"Manny this is… you've really been in some sort of mood lately."

"What? You're crazy." Manny nudged her gently and started walking towards the school doors, keeping a broad smile all the while. He stopped at the steps and turned back. "You comin'?"

Frida stood there silently, mouth slightly open and head shaking in disbelief. Finally she shrugged and followed after him. She had to admit something: she already felt better having him back.

The Crime Scene, 7:55 AM

"… Fitz?"

"I'm just… just taking my time."

Fitzgerald had to take a moment to soak this all up, not believing things could get grimmer than before. But seriously… how do you respond to crucifixion? Geraldo Maltin, a well known drug lord, and his lady of week Ivonne… were clearly left to bleed to death on the hastily made crosses. Tied tightly to the wooded constructs, they had little choice but to lament their fate last night. Fitzgerald looked at the wounds on Maltin very carefully… they appeared almost identical to those on the men in the court yard. But something else caught his eye, and he started to bend over; he was, unfortunately, interrupted by Detective Borges.

"Fitz, before you do your thing, would you mind checking this out?"

Growling in frustration, Detective Fitzgerald stood back up and followed Borges to the far wall, far below and just to the right of the large opening where Maltin was attacked. What he saw was… confusing. A large heart burned into the side of the building, surrounding two letters and a plus sign. The letters and plus were carved out by the same claws seen else where, and dried blood filled the grooves.

"C and T… what do you know about this, Borges?"

"Nothing yet. We have to run it when we get back to the station. But it leads us to believe-."

"Believe that there's two perps."

"Yeah… what do you think?"

Fitzgerald smiled and kicked some dust, staring down at the ground on which he stood. "I think you're wrong about that too."

Before Borges could ask what he meant, Detective Fitzgerald was walking down the driveway to the cars. Much like his cousin, the detective was very, very good at his job. Too bad no one else in his family realized that yet.

The School, 8:05 AM

Manny sat in his seat, thinking deep about what had just happened. He felt neither sad nor happy, and as he thought about that, it really didn't make sense to be either of those. Frida's words, both from today and from days ago, echoed in his mind.

"This is totally irresponsible!"

She was worried about him… a lot more than usual. He had to wonder if he should chalk that up to him being critically injured, or if it had more to do with that other thing…

"Don't say it… Long enough."

Yeah, that other thing. How she felt for him. Manny was still having trouble getting his head around that. You always say it makes sense for friends to make great partners, but do you ever actually believe that? The longer your friend is with you, the more you see them as a family member, or something. And barring the occasional odd thing that happens when you see an attractive cousin, you don't feel things like what Manny was feeling now when you talk about family.

"Should you be getting these wet?"

He remembered what he felt when she ran her fingers across his skin, lightly touching the injuries that made him seem mortal. As Manny sat there in class, he raised a hand to his chest and ran his index and middle fingers across the stitches under his shirt. It was a curious feeling, recalling what Frida did to him then and there…

"Now, I know you've had a trying experience, Mr. Rivera," Manny, and perhaps the rest of the class turned their heads and looked to the front. Unlike Manny, the rest of class turned and looked at him immediately after. "But you are back in school now, so do try to pay attention. We have a lot to cover, and you have a great deal of catching up to do."

"Yes ma'am…"

M's Command Center, Meeting Room, 11:39 AM

They had filed in some twenty minutes ago. One by one they surrendered their weapons, leaving their body guards outside with a promise of safety and a threat of destruction should they insist to violate the rules. The men in black patrolling the facility were unsettling enough, but as the gang leaders and cartel heads of the five largest remaining criminal organizations entered the meeting room, they were met with the appearance of a crowd of super villains. How lovely. They took their place at the table, with Miracle City's most famous mobster, Don Baitti, taking his place at the head. But now they grew impatient; though it seemed no one wanted to say anything. They had all heard the news about Maltin… perhaps that was the source of their grim quietude. At the far end of the room stood Voltura and Lady Gobbler, waiting patiently at the large metal door. When they heard the sound of a small elevator behind it, they backed away from the doorway and allowed it to slowly swing open, revealing M himself. He brushed back his hair and stepped out of the elevator quietly, keeping a smirk on his face the whole time. Almost immediately he was confronted, not by his guests, but by Voltura. She stood in his way and whispered to him.

"Where is my daughter?"

"I don't think now is the time for this, Aves. Do you?"

"You're not going anywhere until you give us an answer."

"Where is Zoe?" Lady Gobbler advanced slowly, whispering to him in the same low tone. It seemed their patience too had run out.

"Huh… well, I do have something to tell you about her, but first I must conclude my business. Can I at least do that?"

The silence that followed was chilling, with M staring at his agents, willing them to back down. And though they inevitably did, they didn't enjoy it. Voltura stepped aside without turning, staring hard at the dark wall as M walked past. She felt he was hiding something, keeping a good hand from them until all the chips were bet. And that suspicion made her feel cold.

"Good morning, gentlemen. Welcome to my abode."

With the eyes of the criminals all on him, M couldn't help but smile, just showing his teeth between his lips, eye lids half closing so that only his irises could be seen. How he loved this part… there were few words in his arsenal to describe the feeling. Being the dominant force, the power player, was what he lived for. Don Baitti interrupted his moment.

"Why are we here?"

"Oh good, you're cutting to the chase. Well, my esteemed colleague," M felt the villains around him wilt a little when he said the word colleague. They clearly remembered a time when they were M's "colleagues," and how that time quickly came and went. But they were winning, which is what they wanted. "You're here so I can quickly, concisely, and unarguably deliver an ultimatum."

There was light laughter from the table. Don Baitti, being a veteran criminal, a hardened, villainous mobster, did not at all take this young man seriously. He stroked his thick, white mustache casually, contemplating ending this meeting on a high note.

"That's cute. An ultimatum. Well, that's good, 'cause we got an ultimatum for you."

"Well then, it's a good thing I scheduled this meeting," M replied, smiling defiantly, "now, since you're the guest, do go ahead. I want to hear this."

"Get out of my city, or you'll quickly find yourself without bones." Don Baitti pushed himself away from the table, and with little more than a sound like gently snapping twigs, he was up and suspended from his super-powered mustache. "You think we don't know what you're doin'? I've been at this a long time, kid, and I don't think I'm gonna' bend over for the likes of you!"

"… Not bad. But maybe you should consider mine before we all come to an agreement."

M raised a hand to his ear so he could better hear through his ear piece; the news he received made him smile wider than ever, stretching his pale skin to ghastly dimensions. He turned his gaze to Don Baitti.

"Please, send her in."

Silence again… but this time the assembled gangsters had to fight to keep themselves from looking scared. Not one of them could say why, but they each felt a crushing dread in their hearts, as though some unspeakable evil was making its way toward them. The door through which the criminal assembly came was forced open, and through it came a gust of stifling air, like that which escapes from a long sealed tomb. Placing one boney foot in front of the other, Sartana slowly made her way in.

"Sorry I'm late… personal issues had to be settled."

"Not at all, dear lady. Please, have a seat."

M pulled out a chair at his end of the table, opposite of the slowly descending Don Baitti. Sartana of the Dead took her place there, gently strumming her guitar. She could be heard quietly humming, keeping an eye on her mortal competitors in crime.

"Now that we're all here… Don Baitti, crime lords of Miracle City. This is your one chance, your one choice. You will join with me, and join with Sartana, or you will be obliterated. I won't just kill you. I will scrub your names from every record everywhere. I will kill every friend, every family member, destroy all of your estates. Everything built, everything learned, everything desired… it shall be taken from you."

One crime lord had the intention to get up and attempt something. No one knew what he had in mind, because before he could act, he was frozen in terror as Sartana casually pointed her guitar at his heart, not even breaking from her humming to warn him. And as what M said started to sink in, each person began to realize what was happening to their world. Those with M and those yet to be with him began to understand their role in the new order. Don Baitti sat back in his wheelchair, shaking his head in total disbelief.

"How… how can you do this to us?"

"Don Baitti… what did you expect of war?"