Mystery Men Part 3

March 16, 10:48 p.m.

Directly in the center of Century City, the Century Spire dominated the night sky wherever you were in the city. It was easily the tallest structure in the city, and at eighty stories, was one of the tallest in the world. It stood, yearning for the heavens, a physical testament to the hopes Roosevelt had for the city. Century’s construction and growing industry had done a lot to get the U.S. from out of the grip of the Great Depression and it had quickly evolved into the country’s center for the war effort.

The Spire was forty two blocks from Andy Marovich’s apartment in Eastview. The Fade made the trip in just over eight minutes.

I’m getting faster,he thought, standing atop the Century Banking Building across Atlantic Avenue from the Spire. He was breathing heavily, but even; the trek across the rooftops of Century had been exhilarating, but not exhausting. His mind wandered as he peered at the Spire from behind the red lenses of his mask.

One week from tonight, the stranger had said to him three days ago. At the Spire...

What that meeting would mean, the Fade couldn’t imagine. It was obvious that there were others like him... other Mystery Men... in the city, but he hadn’t encountered any. Until the other night, when a strange young man had watched the Fade dispatch four crooks on the run from the police. Like the Fade, the young stranger obviously possessed enhanced abilities; he had leaped from the top of a four story building and vanished without a trace.

I wonder if he can do anything else,he thought. Different things than I can do. Idly, his hand went to his belt, brushed the smoke capsules secured there. His ability to blend seemed to work best with shades of gray, hence the gray trench coat and boots. The goggles allowed him to see in the clouds of smoke created by the capsules, giving him an even further advantage over the criminals he’d dealt with.

He had made both the capsules and goggles himself, based on designs he’d seen at work. Morrison Engineering, like most of the other companies in the city, did research with military applications. The smoke capsules and goggles were designs that were abandoned early on for projects with a broader scope. It had been easy to steal what he needed from the labs and then construct the equipment at home. By then, the Urge had been upon him and he would have done anything to satisfy it; stealing a few materials didn’t discourage him at all.

The Urge had started about a year ago. It began as a general restlessness and overabundance of energy. He quickly went from six or seven hours of sleep a night to two or three. He felt very confined in his apartment, so he would go for nightly jogs through the streets of Eastview. It only got worse as time went on and more and more people moved to the city. Soon his nightly jogs became runs. Still the Urge got stronger. He began to seek out obstacles as he ran; fences to hurdle, railings to slide down, walls to climb.

Finally, one night the Urge had been so great that he lost all conscious thought and began to act on pure instinct. Before he knew it, he had jumped on top of a delivery truck, vaulted from there to a second story rooftop, then to a water tower one building over, and finally onto the roof of a four story building across the street. If he hadn’t been standing there, looking down onto 38th Street, he wouldn’t have believed it.

Once he realized what he could do, the Urge became a need to test those abilities. The growing city was like a giant obstacle course and he used it to hone his agility and skill. His strength he tested against the growing number of criminals that plagued the city as organized crime tried to get a foothold in the new market. That was when the mask and the name...no, the title is more fitting...had become necessary.

Since he’d first started wearing the mask, he’d had quite a few run-ins with muggers and the like; Century City was quickly becoming a dangerous place to be at night. And the Urge seemed to sense it, compelling him to go out as the Fade more and more often. In the past two weeks, he’d been out ten nights and ran into trouble on six of those.

Nothing so far tonight, though,he thought and glanced at the thick watch he wore on his left wrist. But it is early.

He took one more look at the Spire and thought of the meeting that would take place there four nights from tonight. He wanted answers and wasn’t going to leave without them.

I know about the things you can do, the stranger’s voice replayed in his mind. The special things.

We’ll see just how much you do know, mister,he thought. We’ll see.

He turned and ran along the rooftop, launching himself just as he reached the ledge. He cleared the alley below, grabbed a hold of the fire escape, and scurried two floors up to the roof of the neighboring building.

The Fade put all thoughts of the mysterious stranger and their pending meeting at the Spire out of his mind. He continued his trip across the rooftops of Century City.

* * * * *

It was a quiet night, even for a Monday. From the Spire, he’d headed into Southtown, doing a big loop that gave him a good view of most of the area. More than anything, though, he had found he relied on his hearing to locate trouble. Although Century City was large (or was getting large, at least) and active well into the night, sounds of any kind of disturbance could be heard fairly easily.

He finished his circuit of Southtown and came back into Midtown, moving north along Grand Avenue. He dropped down from the Byrne Building, landing atop Kranski’s Auto Shop, across from the Courage Café. Something struck him as odd, but he couldn’t place it. He examined his surroundings, hoping to figure out exactly what was wrong.

After a few moments, he realized what it was...the sound nearby was muted, as if coming from farther away than it should have been. The Fade stamped his booted foot down on the roof several times. The sound the action made was more like someone tapping a finger on a desk. “Weird,” he said, barely able to hear his own voice.

For a moment, he was worried that perhaps his hearing was somehow going; after all the changes his body had gone through when he discovered his abilities, he figured more could be on the way. Who knew what kinds of side effects his abilities could have?

Before he could ponder the situation further, he saw a man come crashing through the window of the Courage Café across the street. No sound was made by the shattering glass or the big man who fell to the pavement below. What the hell is going on? he wondered.

As the man struggled to rise, another form appeared in the broken window. It was a man, tall and well built, dressed all in black. His face was covered by a mask that left only his eyes visible. The masked man raised his hand, aiming a large pistol out the window at the dazed man on the sidewalk.

All questions left the Fade’s mind; he no longer cared what was happening. Some one was in danger and the Urge took over. The Urge to protect.

He leaped from atop Kranski’s, landed in the middle of Grand Avenue, and vaulted over the sidewalk and the prone man. Headfirst, he flew straight at the gunman.

The masked man noticed the Fade at the last second and turned his gun on this new target.

Noiselessly they collided and tumbled back into the Café, the pistol firing a stray shot into the ceiling. The Fade was yelling at him to drop the weapon, but his words were as silent as the gunshot.

The two of them rolled to a stop, the Fade on top of the gunman. He grabbed the man’s wrist and forced the gun away, then drove a fist into the masked man’s face once, twice.

That should have been enough to take him out, the Fade thought, but the gunman only grimaced beneath his mask and struggled to rise. He brought his legs up quickly, throwing the Fade back over his head.

Both men scrambled to their feet, but the gunman was up first. He’s faster than me, Fade realized. How is that possible?

There’s lots of us in this city, echoed the stranger’s voice in his mind.

He’s like me, Fade thought. I bet he’s the one messing with my hearing.

He had no more time to give the matter any thought; his foe raised the pistol and fired. The Fade dived to the right, avoiding the shot as he vaulted the dining counter. Crouched down behind the counter, he realized how vulnerable he was without his ability to hear his enemy. He had to try and keep the masked man in his sight if he wanted to have even a chance of keeping track of him. He could be shooting at me right now and I wouldn’t even know it, he thought.

He quickly surveyed the area of the Café that he could see from behind the counter. Whatever was going on, it had started well before he showed up, that was obvious. Strewn about the dining area were at least four bodies that he could see, all with gaping bullet wounds. Too late for them, he thought reluctantly.

He got into a crouching position and peaked his head up over the counter. He saw that the gunman had headed back to the broken window and was about to jump out. Hoping to stop him, Fade grabbed the nearest object at hand, a metal napkin dispenser, and hurled it at the fleeing killer. The projectile caught the man in the back of the head just as he was going through the window, and sent him tumbling to the concrete.

In an instant, the Fade was back outside, standing over the dazed gunman. The big man who’d come through the window had managed to crawl up the street a ways, but was now looking back with wide eyes. “Run!” Fade called to him and heard the word in his head, but no sound came out. The big man only continued to gape at him from the ground.

A sudden jolt of pain brought Fade’s attention back to the masked man. Having lost his pistol in the fall, he’d drawn a long bladed knife and slashed the Fade across the abdomen as he rose.

The wound was severe; it was the worst pain the Fade had ever felt in his life. He staggered away from the man in black, pressing a hand to the wound to staunch the blood.

The killer reversed his hold on the knife and hurled it in one fluid motion. The weapon struck the Fade, burying itself deep in his shoulder. Only his enhanced reflexes had kept the knife from finding its true target...his throat. He screamed in agony, but still no sound could be heard. He stumbled and fell to the street.

The man in black was on top of him before he knew it. He grabbed Fade’s trench coat by the lapels and raised the Mystery Man up to his feet. He lashed out quickly and repeatedly, punching the Fade in the face.

Wounded as he was, the Fade could do little to stop the beating. He raised a feeble hand to ward off the assault. It did nothing to stop the man in black, who unrelentingly struck him again and again. The Fade felt his cheek bone crack under the strain, felt one of his molars come loose in his mouth. His eyes teared up and he could see little more than he could hear.

Finally, the killer let him fall back to the pavement. Reaching forward, the man tore his knife from the Fade’s shoulder and raised it for the kill.

* * * * *

Eddie Duke opened his eyes. He was laying on his back, staring up at the bottom of a table. For a brief moment, he wondered where he was. Then he remembered.

I’m in the Courage, he thought and glanced down at his left shoulder. I’ve been shot.

His coat and shirt were soaked with blood, but there was little pain. It was more numb than anything. And hot...he was sweating fiercely.

He moved, expecting the pain to come, but none did. Still only numbness. He slid out from beneath the table and used his good arm to raise himself up to his knees. He realized he couldn’t hear anything and remembered banging his head against the window. Maybe the blow to the head had made him go deaf. I think I am in shock, he thought, trying to remember what they had told him at the academy about dealing with people who had experienced trauma. He couldn’t remember.

As he slowly got to his feet, he realized that the crack to his skull hadn’t deafened him. There had been no sound before that maniac had shot him. The guy had just waltzed into the Courage and had shot two people dead before anyone really knew what was happening. As soon as the killer had entered the Courage, the sound had slowly faded as if some one had turned the dial on the radio down with one long, slow roll of the thumb.

He saw his revolver laying amidst shards of glass in the booth he had been sitting at. He reached down and took it in his right hand. Looking around, he saw several bodies laying about the dining area, but did not see Karl Rainey amongst them.

His eyes turned back to the broken window. He slid knee first into the booth in which he had been shot and looked out to the street below.

Rainey was sprawled on the sidewalk several yards up the street, his face bleeding from many small cuts. He was holding his ankle with one hand and trying to drag himself away with the other. Eddie’s eyes locked onto the man who had shot him, down the street a few yards in the other direction. The masked man was pummeling another man in a long trench coat. Eddie was surprised to see that it was the Mystery Man who had helped him and Hogan the other night. As he watched, the killer delivered a final punch that sent the Mystery Man to the ground, his head silently rebounding off the concrete. The man in black leaned down and pulled a knife from the shoulder of the Mystery Man. He raised the knife to finish him off.

Eddie Duke, nervous rookie cop, raised his pistol and rapidly fired two shots. He caught the masked man in the back both times, he thought; it was hard to tell. The masked killer tumbled away and fell to his knees.

Eddie’s vision blurred and he felt very lightheaded. The strength went out of him all at once and he fell forward, his arm dangling from the window.

He smiled as he lay there, his final thoughts that he would have been a good cop.

* * * * *

Rainey watched with horrified eyes as the man in black slowly rose from the street. A pair of cars had come to a stop at the strange sight of two masked men fighting in the street, and despite the late hour, a small crowd had gathered across the street. He could hear them murmuring curiously.

I can hear them, he realized. He could also hear his own panting breaths, and in the distance, many sirens.

The man in black was obviously injured, but he managed to lurch unsteadily to his feet. He heard the approaching sirens, saw the gathering crowd. He turned and cast an angry look back at Rainey and the fallen Mystery Man and then ran off down the street, cutting into an alley to avoid pursuit. Not that anyone would be crazy enough to follow him, Rainey thought. He must have beat the Mystery Man to within an inch...

His thoughts came to a sudden halt when he saw the Mystery Man, his face a bloody pulp beneath his cracked goggles, rise from the street. The movement caused him obvious pain and he limped toward the prone reporter.

“How?” Rainey stammered. “How are you even conscious, let alone on your feet?”

“M’pretty tough,” the battered man managed. He raised a hand and pointed toward the Courage Café. “Think he helped, though.”

Rainey reluctantly turned to follow the man’s gesture. There he saw Eddie Duke slumping in the broken window, his pistol dangling from one finger. “Oh no,” Rainey said quietly. “Oh, shit no.”

The small crowd was beginning to grow, in both size and boldness. Several of them began to make their way across the street, uttering confused questions. The Mystery Man turned from the crowd back to the reporter. “You’re Karl Rainey, aren’t you? From the Chronicle?”

Rainey nodded.

“That man was a cop, right?” he pointed a gloved finger at Duke again.

Rainey nodded. “We were here so he could tell me about a...Mystery Man sighting he had.” He looked the masked man up and down. “I think it was you he saw.”

It was the Mystery Man’s turn to nod. “Few nights ago,” he said and then spat a wad of blood from his mouth. “Over in Eastview.”

The sirens were growing closer and the Mystery Man was growing anxious. “You should wait,” Rainey suggested. “There’ll be an ambulance along...”

“I’ll be fine,” the Mystery Man cut him off. “But I need to know what happened here tonight.” He turned, starting to leave, but paused and looked back. “I’ll be in touch, Mr. Rainey.”

“Wait!” Rainey pleaded, holding up a hand. “Who are you?”

A small crack came as his answer and a cloud of smoke engulfed the gray clad Mystery Man, obscuring him from sight. It only took a few moments for the smoke to clear, and when it did, he was gone.

“The Fade,” his voice drifted down to Rainey from high above.

Rainey was still staring up at the night sky when two patrol cars and an ambulance pulled up.