Chapter Three

Assassination

Detective Miller drove back through the city toward his office. His fingers tapped the wheel anxiously, feeling a small flash drive inside his coat pocket press against his chest, one of the many copies he'd made of the evidence he'd gathered. Something felt off. Like sharing his information with the commissioner had been a mistake somehow.

He pulled up to a red light. As he waited, he glanced at the street name, noticing he was only a block from his daughter's townhouse. He smiled to himself as a white car pulled up beside him. He glanced at them to notice both of its occupants were glaring right at him. He put on a smile and nodded, doing his best to ignore them. Maybe they were just disgusted by his old broken-down car.

A second vehicle pulled up behind him, a big black van by the looks of it. He glanced in his rearview mirror, noticing that the passenger was cocking a gun, the driver looking right at him. His eyes widened.

The light turned green, and he gunned it. The white car to his left veered straight into him, smashing into the side of his car and forcing him up onto the sidewalk. Tobias veered as hard as he could back the other direction, getting back on the road just as a bullet shattered both his rear and front windshields. Tobias ducked, looking back to see the passenger in the black van leaning out the window, firing at him.

He drove as fast as he could, veering left and right to try to get away from them. A bullet struck him in the shoulder, making him cry out in pain. Another bullet struck his right rear tire, making him spin out as he tried to make a tight turn, the entire car tipping onto its side and smashing into a mailbox on the far side of the street.

Tobias's airbag went off in his face, shaking him from his concussion. He looked around, realizing the situation he was in. He quickly undid his seatbelt, pushing the airbag down and climbing up and out through the shattered windshield. His hands scraped on the broken glass everywhere, but he ignored it, getting to his feet and running as more gunfire struck the pavement around him.

He ran as fast as he was able, struggling to pull out his own gun and turned down a back alley, only to run right into someone. Whoever the person was, they were big, and they were solid, feeling almost like a brick wall when Tobias collided with them.

"Sorry, sir," Tobias said, rubbing his nose and sitting back up. "I didn't—"

He stopped, staring at the man. The stranger was nearly seven feet tall, with cold merciless eyes and a mask covering the lower half of his face. He wore a silvery cape over a black uniform. When he shifted, he revealed a mechanical arm in the place of his right, ending in five wickedly sharp blades.

"Tobias Miller," the man said in a deep voice that sent a chill down his spine. "You are a victim of CRIME."

There it was again, Tobias thought. That strange repetition of the word "crime." He swallowed and got to his feet, his heart pounding. He turned to run, but the stranger moved at lightning speed, slashing him across the back with those claws of his. Tobias cried out and fell to the ground.

He looked up, seeing his assailants from the cars entering the alley. He felt the flash drive in his coat pocket, thinking he couldn't let them get to it. His eyes fell on the nearby street sign, remembering where he was. If he could just get to Karen's townhouse . . .

He glanced sideways. The building beside him had a small window at ground level that looked like it was open. He could easily roll through it. And if he knew the building model well enough, they typically had a door in their basement connecting to the next building over. If he could just . . .

His assailant grabbed him by the shoulder with his bladed hand, flipping him over. The man stood over him, raising his claws for a killing blow.

Bright lights and sounds filled the alleyway as police cars raced onto the scene, distracting Detective Miller's attacker for just the briefest of seconds. Tobias made the most of those seconds, firing his gun at the man's face, the bullets bouncing harmlessly off but striking with enough force that he reeled backwards. Tobias then rolled toward the window and in, finding himself inside a basement laundry room.

He glanced back, thinking maybe the police who just arrived could help, but then he remembered his information about moles within the force. He wasn't sure he could trust them. But there was one person he knew he could trust. Karen. He took off across the laundry room, through the door right where he'd hoped it would be.

Outside, his attacker shook off the hit. He looked around to see his target was gone. But he couldn't have gone far. He glanced out to the street, where the police were holding the drivers at gunpoint. He ducked back into the shadows, crouched his powerful legs, and leapt to the nearby building's roof in a single bound.

A few minutes later, Karen and her partner pulled up on the scene in their police car. Karen got out and approached the first responders' captain. "What's happening here?" she asked.

"Just a drunk driver, as far as we can tell," the officer said. "Took the turn too fast. None of the witnesses saw anything out of the ordinary."

"What about the driver?" Karen's partner asked.

"Looks like they made a run for it. We're looking for them now."

Karen looked past the officer at the old brown car leaning on its side. The same make and model as her dad's, she thought. Then she noticed a dent near the rear passenger door that she'd once made getting out of her own car. The same chill she felt before ran down her spine. "Dad?" she said.

She brushed past the officer and up to the car. The same scratch from the neighborhood kids on the hood. The license plate was the same. And the front . . . as she came around the front, she could see that both front and back windshields had been shattered. Broken glass lay all over the ground, a trail of blood leading away from the car.

"You know this vehicle, officer?"

Karen jumped, looking to see the captain standing nearby, looking at her skeptically. Karen nodded. "This is my dad's car. But he wouldn't be—"

She looked around. Something wasn't right. Her dad wouldn't be drunk in the middle of the day. She'd just seen him, and he'd been completely sober then. Then her eyes fell on the right rear tire. It was flat and torn up. And there were new dents in the car that looked a lot like bullet holes. So why would the officer say—?

A new vehicle pulled up behind Karen's car, the same high-tech red car she'd seen that morning, with a familiar face in the driver's seat. Gordon Cherry got out and hurried over.

"Hey," he said, showing his morpher. "I'm with the rangers. I was just passing by and saw the accident. Is there anything I can do?"

"No, we've pretty much got it covered here," the captain said. "Just a drunk driver, rolled his vehicle."

"I see," Gordon looked past him, noticing Karen's face. "Oh, hey," he said. "It's you again."

Karen glanced at him, her mind still on her dad. "Hey," she said, glancing around. "Nice to see you."

Gordon raised an eyebrow. "Everything okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I—"

Karen's eyes fell on the nearby street sign. Only a block from her townhouse. If her dad was really in trouble—

"Um, I need to go check something," she said. She turned to her partner. "If you'll stay here, take a few statements?"

Her partner looked confused but nodded. "Of course."

Karen turned and hurried as fast as she could down the street, ignoring Gordon as he called after her with concern. She raced to the corner she always turned down and ran the length of the park across the street from her house. Finally, she came to a stop, pushing open her small front gate, stopping as she felt something wet and realized the gate had fresh blood on it.

"Dad?" she said, pushing through and up to her front door. The door was unlocked, and only one person she knew had a key. "Dad?" she called, running inside.

She found him, lying on the couch in her living room. He was covered in blood, coming from a gash on his head, some deep slashes across his left shoulder, and what looked like a bullet wound in the right.

"Dad!" she shouted, running to his side.

Her dad opened his eyes wearily, looking up at his daughter's face. "Hey, Kare Bear," he said listlessly. "Is it after six already?"

"No," Karen said. "Dad, what happened? Who did this to you?"

Her father raised his hand, brushing her cheek and leaving a small streak of blood across it. "I can't tell you anything out loud," he said weakly. "I'm sorry. I left you . . . some sour gummies."

Karen shook her head. Sour gummies? Her dad was bleeding out and talking about sour gummies? What? "Dad, what are you talking about? We need to get you to a hospital."

She made to help him up, but her dad stopped her, grabbing her arm. "Be careful who you trust, sweetie. I . . . love . . ."

His eyes grew wide as a figure appeared behind Karen. He grabbed her and pushed her out of the way with all of his might, just as a metallic arm sped past her and impaled him in the chest with five razor sharp blades.

Karen let out a scream. "Dad?" she said, clasping his face. His eyes focused on her one last time before the light left them, and he slumped back against her couch. The arm impaling him ripped itself out of his body and flew back toward its host.

Karen turned to see a tall man standing in her doorway, his face covered by a mask. She drew her gun and aimed it at him. "Who are you?" she shouted. "What do you want?"

The man glared at her, raising his arm again. "No witnesses," he said in a deep voice.

Karen's heart pounded as she opened fire, each and every bullet bouncing off of him harmlessly. His eyes had an almost smug look about it. Tiny rockets flared up on the sides of his mechanical arm.

A powerful blast struck the man in the back, strong enough to throw him forward. Gordon Cherry stood in Karen's doorway, fully decked out in his ranger armor. "I don't think so," he said.

The assassin got to his feet, glaring back at the red ranger and checking his mask to make sure it was secure. Then, he made a break for Karen's front window at astonishing speed, smashing right through it and out onto the street beyond. Karen and Gordon fired after him, but he just kept running.

Gordon glanced at Karen. "Stay here," he said. He rushed out the window after the assailant, stopping in the middle of the street to find no trace of the man anywhere.

"Where did you go?" he said. He tapped his visor, scanning for the person, switching between each setting and looking in all directions. No matter what he tried, he couldn't find him anywhere. Finally, he gave up, returning to Karen's living room to find the young officer cradling her father, tears rolling down her face as she shook him, trying everything she could to wake him up.