Dark Angel
A Sentinel Story
By: Clarence P. Browne -and- Mary Shukes
Part Two - The Beast
This was a side of the jungle that Jim wasn't very comfortable with - even knowing this was a dream. He'd been having the same dream for the last three nights. He was aware that he was alone in the jungle, but also that he was NOT alone. Something was keeping just outside the range of his senses, and it was stalking him. He strained to see in the pitch dark of this dense copse, but all he could make out was more darkness. He listened intently, hoping to glean some hint of the danger that he knew stalked the fringes of his perception. Three days of this helplessness was starting to get to him, and Blair was of little help as this 'Dark Angel' stacked up bodies like cordwood in the badlands of Cascade. Seventeen victims killed barehanded in ways that would make Torquemada flinch...
"Hello, my intended...," echoed
a voice from the shadows.
"Show yourself!" demanded Jim
angrily. "Where are you?"
"EVERYWHERE..."
"No! You're just some sick
bastard that thinks he can take the law in his own hands..."
"Heh. The Law? It is to laugh...,"
mocked the voice. "Justice is what WE fight for, little brother... You
fight for the Law, do you? You fool. You blind child... You waste your
talents in the service of an empty ideal... The Law... Whose Law? Yours?'
"The laws of the United States
of America," stated Jim flatly.
"Imbecile. Deluded infant...
You stand for rules that serve the scum more than those that you SHOULD
protect. Don't you ever question your 'superiors'? Do you believe that
maintaining the course is wise even when you can't HELP but see the iceberg
in your path? You risk your life for a facade... Protect and Serve? You
protect NO ONE. You serve NOTHING. You are impotent BECAUSE of the Law
you foolishly worship like a golden calf. We serve JUSTICE. JUSTICE is
REAL. For all sin there is a PRICE, and we see that it is PAID..."
"Oh yeah? Isn't murder a sin?
What price for THAT, bright boy?"
"Heh. Murder you say? Not so...
Do we weep for the roaches when the exterminator comes? No, clearly not..
Rather, we rejoice that the vermin are culled, and the tide has turned...
We can proceed safe in the knowledge that there is a way to counter the
invasion... If we but had COURAGE..."
"Bullshit! Those people had
RIGHTS..."
"Rights? Those 'people' are
CANCER. Eating their OWN. Society cannot function when it is rotting from
WITHIN... It is up to us all to seek out the cancer and REMOVE it before
it spreads... But your Law prevents that... You somehow feel that if we
meet force with COMPASSION that we are somehow BETTER than the scum that
plague us... Idiocy! You heap protection upon these traitors to their own
to stoke the pyre of your illusion of SOCIETY... Heh. These 'protections'
serve to show others that there is no retribution, and you are helpless
to stem the tide as others walk the same path... Others, and MORE others
with each passing year... Your jails fill, and you build MORE - thereby
perpetuating the farce... It's not a perpetual motion, little brother...
It's a DOWNWARD SPIRAL... For all the jails, and all the rules, have you
TRULY made a difference? Is evil driven out? Hardly."
"It's not that simple!" protested
Jim angrily. "It's not just right OR wrong - not just black OR white..."
"It has ALWAYS been that simple,"
retorted the voice. "You just lost your STOMACH for it... So you have your
pretty little 'shades of grey' to COMFORT you as the enemies gain more
and more ground... BAH! You're pathetic... Evil can not create Good any
moreso than you can grow cabbage in a coalmine... Diametric opposition
has no yield but CONFLICT, and nobody has the BACKBONE to stay in the FIGHT...
When one side RETIRES, the other wins by DEFAULT..."
"No... You're wrong... I..,"
began Jim...
"You NOTHING. All you do is
clean up the after-effects like a JANITOR... You pick up the pieces only
to pick up more the NEXT day... You pack the prisons like trash in a landfill,
but it's no moreso a solution... There is only ONE true deterrent to evil...
FEAR. You've given up your power, and so evil no longer FEARS you, and
does as it pleases... But WE will make them fear again..."
"Nobody gave you that authority.
You can't be judge, jury and executioner..."
"GAVE us the authority? Nobody
WANTED it, little brother... So we TOOK it... And see how much good we've
done? Seventeen roaches so far, and more to follow until they no longer
have the courage to continue their evil ways... The flow recedes even now
as more become aware of the true PRICE of sin... Soon it will CEASE, and
isn't THAT what we want?"
"No... Not like that..."
"HOW THEN?! All your years
in servitude and what benefit? Your cause is hopeless from the START...
You cannot fight fire with STRAW... You must EXTINGUISH it... It won't
see the error of it's ways... It won't burn itself out until it's consumed
EVERYTHING... What then? Would you fan the flames or fight while there's
still something to SAVE?"
"You have to be stopped," whispered
Jim hoarsely.
"Stopped? You cannot stop me.
You haven't the strength OR the will... You'd be destroyed... You hold
yourself back like a dog on a chain... A pet dog can not defeat a wolf...
How moreso for a you against such as I? Mark well, little brother... We
warn you for your own sake... You cannot learn from us if you force us
to kill you..."
"I can learn nothing from you!"
screamed Ellison angrily.
"But you already have, little
brother," replied the voice from the Darkness.
"What?"
"You're welcome... See you
SOON..."
Ellison sat upright in bed.
Angry heat flushed across his face as he wiped his brow of moisture...
Bad enough this psychopath was playing the whole department for saps while
he massacred any lowlife he came across, but now he's somehow razzing him
about it in his dreams! He looked up anxiously as his ears picked up Blair
getting out of bed downstairs. He needed Sandburg to help him muddle through
this mojo stuff, but Blair was getting border-line psychotic with what
he'd been getting from the freak's transmissions. Blair was coming up,
so Ellison sat up to confer as Sandburg came through the door.
"I figured you'd be up," said
Blair as he closed the door. "Has it contacted you again?"
"Sort of," sighed Jim as he
rubbed his temples. "I still can't SEE him..."
"Same boat here, Big Guy,"
said Blair dejectedly. "All I can make out is that giant lizard totem,
and lemme tell ya, that is one SCARY piece of luggage! Every time I wake
up I feel like I owe it a favor."
"Well, at least he isn't pissing
on your life," snorted Jim. "You don't think I'm just a glorified janitor,
do you?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know, just cleaning up
the problems of society so there's room for more the next day?"
Blair furrowed his brow worriedly. "Jim, from
what I got from my spirit guide you can NOT let that thing in your head
like that. If it can take you out of your zone, you're as good as dead...
It's an ENEMY. It's GOADING you to fall into some sort of trap..."
"It keeps calling me 'little
brother'..."
"That's bad," pronounced Blair.
"He's obviously trying to make some sort of bond..."
"What, like you and I have?
Sentinel and Guide?"
"No... Teacher and Student..."
"That IS bad. It wants me to
be what IT is?"
"Well, I'm not sure. Seeing
as how not a lot of information is available on this guy from either the
ancient lore or your pals at Langley, but from what I already know I'd
have to say that it's MUCH more Sentinel than you..."
"Hey, that'll give me all the
confidence I need..." spat Jim sarcastically.
"No. THINK about it," clarified
Blair. "I remember being told by the Spirit that there was no other creature
like it in this Age. That explains the dinosaur-type totem. Further, back
in Primitive Times when there were lots of Sentinels, they served as the
entire Justice System for their respective tribes. When I met you, I figured
that the modern-day equivalence..."
"Me being a cop?"
"EXACTLY! Was keeping within
the tenets of the Sentinel. THIS guy, on the other hand, is keeping within
the ORIGINAL parameters. He might not even KNOW it, but he's a bona fide
anachronism of the Sentinel Purpose. Protect the tribe from threats...
From outside OR inside... We've got to try and find out as much as we can
about this thing..."
"We've been TRYING. My friends
at Langley came up with NOTHING. It's like this thing just came to life
big as hell and pissed off."
"Well," mused Blair. "Either
that's because they don't know, or they can't tell..."
"What are you suggesting?"
demanded Jim warily.
"Hear me out. Obviously, this
thing has EXTENSIVE hand to hand skill, right? Wasn't one of the guys he
tore up an 8th Degree Black Belt?"
"According to the ring the
victim had on his hand, yes," acceded Ellison. "But he could have stolen
that."
"No. According to the crime
scene, he put up a fight and a half, remember? ALSO, he had about six thousand
dollars in steroids on him, so he was obviously some kind of dealer."
"WHOA! Hold on. What makes
you think he was some sort of dealer? Maybe that was his personal stash,
or something."
"Coroner find any steroids
in his system?" asked Blair.
Jim grimaced. "No," he conceded.
"Just the stash he had - and THAT was shoved forcibly into his colon via
the rectum... Unopened."
"Ouch," whistled Blair. "You
see? It's sending a message. A little 'Vlad Tepes' for my taste, but I'm
sure the message is pretty clear."
"MESSAGE? This guy is killing
people to SAY something?" Jim cried, aghast. "What then?"
"Well, Vlad Tepes impaled his
enemies along his border as a warning that people should try invading someone
else. It worked. I think this is some sort of bizarre parallel to old Drac's
'Keep Out' signs. He's telling the bad guys to get lost... Or die. Badly.
Sociologically speaking, the criminal element is accustomed to a certain
level of power; control, even. Something like our buddy ripping the hell
out of 'em has GOT to be causing cataclysmic levels of discourse throughout
their entire paradigm. I wish I could observe some of them, really find
out what they're feeling."
"I dunno... They might be feeling
that they've got to find it and take it out..."
"Exactly! Standard criminal
mindset suggests that they should regain control of their environment ASAP.
The death of this monster would be the only way they COULD, so it would
stand to reason they'd be out in force. But that's not going to go well..."
"What makes you so sure?" asked
Jim, happy to get a word in. "Mojo or not, it's just one guy against God
knows how many."
"It's a trap," pronounced Sandburg.
"He's trying to draw them out so he knows his enemy. Sort of like a sniper
in Viet Nam would wound one soldier in a field to get his buddies to come
out of cover and make themselves targets. The guerilla tactics, the martial
proficiency, the way he can avoid all attempts to catch him; this monster's
OBVIOUSLY the result of some hardcore level training."
"I don't like where you're
going with this," said Jim. "It's like you're suggesting it's one of OURS..."
"Yours or SOMEBODY's," nodded
Blair. "A theory which is backed up RATHER nicely by your pals at Langley
not having anything on him."
"So you think he's a spook?"
"Oh-ho HO... YES. Big Time.
So you know who THAT means we have to go see, right?"
"Kelso!" blurted Jim. "YEAH!
He was REALLY high on the old Federal Food Chain! Maybe he knows something!?"
We survey the group that is
trying to look inconspicuous as it gathers in number... They are on the
hunt for us, trying desperately to assert control of their situation. It
is in vain... Looks like all the groups, too; local chapter of the Yakuza...
357s... Dueces... Voids... A veritable whos-who of lowlives... Heh. Looks
like they've opted to forego their respective differences to contend with
us. Some of the other area gangs have sent contingents as well... This
pleases me. It's always gratifying that we can make people come together...
Too bad we have to dispatch this mob so soon after they've grown, but we
really don't like to have these scumbags roaming around doing as they please...
There are children around here, after all...
They're up to nineteen, and more are coming along
from the west and the south sections in those ridiculous black sedans favored
by mobsters. Ah, well... Once they've all come we shall make ourselves
available for a dance or two, but for now we content ourselves with listening
to them encourage each other...
"Man, this is whack," complained
a 357. "IF there IS some kinda boogeyman out here, he COULDN'T be crazy
enough to still be out with all us out here," he stated hotly.
"King G, my young friend,"
said an Italian to his left, "if he were NOT interested in contending with
us all, he would not have attacked all our interests in turn. The faster
we have slain this 'Street Angel' the faster we may return to our respective
businesses."
"Bullshit," interjected a Caucasian.
"Dis guy is on some kinda deathwish to mess with just US Voids, and youse're
sayin' he's messed up YOUR outfits, too? Whoever it is, he won't be seein'
tomorrow... FACT."
"Just try not to shoot yourself
_gaijin_," chuckled a Japanese. "We know how greatly you simple people
fear things beyond your meager understanding."
"Fuck you, Mr. Moto," spat
the Void. "Dis thing is EASY to understand. It got our attention so we
could kill it. So we do it a favor, and get back in time to see 'Leno'..."
"I still say whoever it is
ain't gonna be that dumb," insisted King G. "With all this hardware out
to bust a cap and a half in it, it's had to have gone underground or something..."
"Wassup, 'King', you scared
of the boogeyman?" taunted a Duece.
"YO! Kill dat noise, trailerpark,"
warned a second 357, who stood with five other of his faction at the ready.
"You speak outta turn again, and that boogeyman is gonna be the LAST of
YOUR trouble, nah mean?"
"YAMERU!" commanded the Oyabun
of the local Yakuza. "Division is fruitless at this time. There will be
time enough to fight each other for the scraps from OUR table like the
mongrels you all are. For now, we have LARGER fish to net, wakarimasu
ka?"
"HAI!" concurred the Oyabun's
six men.
"Gentlemen," soothed the Italian.
"What our Eastern friend lacks in diplomacy he compensates for in accuracy.
With CERTAIN embellishments regarding his own importance notwithstanding,
contension with each other is hardly prudent."
"Geeze, Mario," whistled a
Duece appreciatively. "You talk better den my last Public Defender."
"More than likely, Lawrence,
seeing as you were only released last week from a guilty verdict for arson."
"Hey! That's personal!" protested
Lawrence. "H-how did you know, anyway?"
"I find it entertaining to
keep abreast of the doings in the minor league," chuckled Mario. "Ah, here
are my good men..." He motioned for the six torpedoes to come over to the
rest of the group. "Seven from each of we five men, including ourselves,
as agreed."
"Yo, I been wondering," asked
a Duece. "Why seven?"
"Mario is known as 'Snake-Eyes'
in some circles," proferred the Oyabun. "Though these circles are for better
than such as you, the sad truth is he believes in Luck."
"My personal beliefs are not
at issue," argued Mario. "No moreso than your choice to pray to a fat,
bald man..."
"You would do well to show
RESPECT for Buddha," warned the Oyabun.
"Man, FUCK Buddha," spat the
Duece. "Let's just fan out and find this thing..."
"That won't be necessary,"
added someone from the shadows. "It's found YOU."
"Holy SHIT!" exclaimed the
group in unison. "KILL IT!"
They foolishly open fire on
where we were as we move quickly into their midst. We drive a ridgehand
across the bridge of the nose of one of the 357s, who goes down in a shower
of blood and bone. A back thrust kick catches a Yakuza in the throat, crushing
his trachea. They continue firing, doing alot of our work for us... This
pleases me. Eleven men go down in under a second, and we keep the pressure
up... We glide past a Duece grasping his chin as we do, a twist, and he's
out of play. We ram a knee into one of the Italians' ribcage, driving shattered
rib fragments into his heart and lung while we loop a backhand punch into
the kidney of a Void. One of the 357's has been frozen with disbelief,
so we see to his friend who is chambering a shotgun at his left.
We reach him as he brings the
shotgun up, and help him aim it past us to the three Yakuza who were closing
on us. A squeeze from fear and surprise dispatches the Japanese nicely,
and we bring the shotgun up under his chin in time for the reflexive second
squeeze. He releases his hold on the shotgun as he releases his hold on
this mortal coil, and we swing it by the barrel into the temple of 'Snake-Eyes'
sending him to move in an even BETTER circle with a shattered skull. The
Oyabun is screaming frantically, and the Dueces see fit to obey his orders
as they continue to fire, mowing down one of their own along with two Voids
and the last of the Italians. King G still hasn't moved, so we shove him
down as a hail of bullets tear up the area we both were occupying.
Six seconds in, and we've got
two Voids, three Dueces, one Jap, and King G left. They fire on us some
more, but we're already moving, sticking to the shadows as they waste their
power on the bricks of the alley. The Oyabun is shrieking about us coming
to them, and he actually has the audacity to draw a SWORD. They've caught
on to the drawbacks of firearms in close quarters, we see... Fine. We palm
a Duece by the face and squeeze as we shove backwards sharply, creating
that musical wrenching crunch we've come to love. We dodge a knife from
a Void and catch him by the wrist to turn him into the arc of the Oyabun's
sword stroke. He tries to checkswing but it's too late; he's buried the
blade into the skull of the Void, who shudders as his cortex shuts down
from the rude intrusion. We fling the corpse blade and all at the two Dueces,
who go down under it, and we hear flesh tear as the blade feasts on one
of them - making his hand with his pistol clench - emptying it into his
comrade under the Void, which sends them both INTO the Void for added irony.
The last Void comes at us with
a chain, and we raise an arm to blunt the attack. The chain wraps around
our arm, and we yank him into our grasp as we loop the slack of his chain
under his chin and over our shoulder while we place ourself back to back
with him. We pull down as we go into a crouch, which pulls him across our
back by his throat as we shift our grip to spin him to the ground alone.
He lands on the back of his head with the chain as a fulcrum for the rest
of his weight, and that'll retire his side... We turn to the Oyabun, who
is trying to pull a backup pistol from his jacket... He gets it out, but
we're already on top of him and swat his pistol away with one hand as we
grab him by the throat with the other. We squeeze as we lift, and then
drive him down across a dry standpipe, which just leaves King G and us.
We stride over to where he is as he gets shakily to his feet...
"OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod!" blubbered
King G. "Please... Please don't kill me..."
"You did not join your fellows
in attack. This is why you do not join them now... Unless you'd choose
to reconsider?"
"No.. Oh Jesus... No," he gushed
as he dropped his gun and backed against a wall.
"This pleases me. You are but
a boy, are you not?"
"I... I'm nineteen."
"This is no place for a boy.
Twice have we given you your life this night... Do not squander this gift
again. Go."
"W-wait... Who are you? WHAT
are you?"
"We are the Angel of Death
Most Exalted. You are a boy that has seen the true price of this path you
walk. Turn away."
"I... I... Thank you. Jesus,
thank you! I won't waste it... I promise... I... Thank you..." King G turned
and ran.
"You're welcome," whispered
the Angel. "See you SOON..."
Hmmm... Perhaps one CAN grow cabbage in a coalmine, after all.... Just need the right fertilizer.... Heh.