Story: Finite Martyrdom

Finite: Martyrdom

by

Ryan Espinoza

371274

Grade 12

Maryvale High School

Creative Writing Seminar

January 9, 2009

The Agency:  “I’m afraid for my life, Mr. Sears,” whispered the elegant, blond-haired Clive Jameson.  “You saw what happened on live television.  You saw a man take his own life!”  There stood two men and a young woman in a dimly lit room.  Jameson sat with his back arched and his fists folded near his mouth.  A young Asian woman, Kaori Haraki, stood sternly next to her boss at his desk.  Her skin was pale in direct contrast to the black bangs that hung down her forehead.  The slant of her eyes complimented her thin black eyebrows and her rose-blushed face.  David Sears sat back at his desk, smoking a cigarette.  The gray smoke floated up passed the iron wrinkles of his forehead, blending into his short, jagged hair. 

“Blowing your head off sure isn’t the ideal way to gain the popular vote, ain’t it?” smirked Sears during an exhale of smoke.  Although he was sixty-six years old, he had the strength of a forty-year-old.  However, despite his youthful physique, his mentality anchors his body down.

“We are innocent men, Mr. Sears. They may be my opponents, but we all share a common goal; to lead this forsaken city out of the hell that the mayors of its past have ever so neatly grooved it in,” explained Jameson.   Sears grabbed the end of his cigarette and adjusted his chest closer to the desk. 

“So what?  You want me to counsel the other candidates?  Say they have something to live for?” grunted Sears. 

“I’m sure you know, it’s happened twice before.  Two suicides; a hanging and an intentional overdose.  But the one that happened two days ago, during the debate on television, was an eye opener,” pleaded Jameson as he slowly clenched the arms of his chair.  Kaori Haraki stepped forward and said, “Sir, you really think your campaign opponents were murdered?”

 “Miss, I KNOW  these men were murdered,” whispered Jameson whose words floated as gracefully in the air as the already existing smoke.

“What proof do you have?  I’m not just gonna go out gunnin’ down the Grim Reaper.  How do I know that your wannabe mayoral buddies weren’t suffering from  severe cases of depression?” argued Sears in an elevated voice. 

“I would have thought this whole situation insane, as you do.  Until recently I’ve found myself the point of interest for a certain stalker.”  Jameson’s words gained the attention of Sears as he looked up from the scratched wood of his desk to the wet blue eyes of Jameson for the first time in their discussion.  “Someone cloaked in black.  I see it on an almost daily basis.  As I enter my limousine to be taken to public events, I see it.  I see it in the corners of the alleyways,  gliding in the rain, jumping from building to building just to scout me out,” said Jameson.  

“An Angel of Death?” Ms. Haraki abruptly exclaimed as Sears turned away in annoyance.

 “My dear,” Jameson reached into his suit to retrieve his glasses. “I would certainly not describe it as an angel.  However, I do believe this . . . thing is behind this catastrophe and I’m afraid I may be on its list.”   Jameson made a grievous sigh before continuing.

 “David, I chose you to save me.  You are a man of age and wisdom.  You’ve endured death in your youth and you are a strong man because of it.  I know you can help me,” encouraged Jameson to a complacent Sears. 

“I’m not as strong as I used to be, but I will help you.  War changes you.  During my time as a soldier, I killed, and I saw people die but I couldn’t care less.  Now, in my old and fragile age, it’s all catchin’ up to me.   To be straight with ya, the thought of this freak on the loose killing the innocent sickens me.”  Sears stood up and turned around to peer out his window which portrayed a cold dark city.  “I don’t even know if I’m up for it,” Sears looked down as the sky’s gray reflection hit his face.  Ms. Haraki put a hand on his shoulder in comfort as Jameson put on his glasses.  The body of David Sears shook as if to rid itself of past regrets.  “So, how the hell am I supposed to find this thing, anyway?” Sears said as he turned to a pleased Jameson. 

“I knew you’d be up for it and I thank you.  But if you want to track down my stalker, you might want to stay close to me or the other candidates.  It wants us dead but I’m pretty sure what we’re dealing with is not something of fiction so don’t think this investigation impossible,” Jameson said hopefully as he turned to the door.  “Thank you.” Jameson reached for the cold doorknob and began to turn it. 

“Hey, words are cheap,” Sears bellowed causing Jameson to turn back.  “A down payment would be much more satisfying.”

Sears and Ms. Haraki stepped outside the small building of their detective agency and out onto the streets of Rezgate.  The city looked dark and grungy.  The ominous gray clouds that forever loomed above the city poured rain down on occasion, although none had fallen that day.  The streets and buildings were covered in a coat of filthy water that gave the city a darker shade of whatever color Rezgate had been prior to the rains.  There was no sun in Rezgate.  The time of day could be determined by the different shades of gray and black that the clouds presented overhead.  However, had the clouds ever released its bondage on the sun, it was doubtful if the light would even shine down passed the skyscrapers.  A combination of the clouds, the rising steam from the sewers and the morning fog created an aura of vapor that swirled around the city.

Sears put on his beige overcoat covering his black dress pants and vest, which in turn covered a white tie and dress shirt.  He then assisted Ms. Haraki in putting her white coat over her black turtleneck and matching pants.  “A weirdo in black that somehow causes mayoral candidates to commit suicide, huh?  Not the usual case for David Sears, is it?” said Ms. Haraki jokingly to her boss. 

“Well, it’s not everyday my work can help the entire city.  Usually, they’re just some jealous wives wanting proof of their husbands’ adulterous outings or proud store owners wanting me to catch a pesky thief.  Besides, I need to prove to myself that I still have it in me.  That will to fight,” stated Sears.  Ms. Haraki smiled. 

“You’re still the war hero I always knew.  The man who’s legend forever precedes him.  The amazing battles you had during the last Great War!”  Sears lit a cigarette and placed it between his lips.  He then reached in his coat pocket for the address of Clive Jameson. 

“Oh, no.  Don’t tell me you’re going to start tonight.  It’s getting dark, don’t you think you ought to go home and get some rest?”  Sears turned towards her and exhaled a cloud of smoke into the sky. 

“I should probably act quickly before anyone else gets hurt.” 

Ms. Haraki placed her hands on both sides of Sears’s jaw.  “Promise me you’ll go straight home tonight and start the job in the morning.” Sears gave a displeasing grunt, looked into her eyes and reluctantly nodded.  Ms. Haraki took her hands away, smiled, whispered goodbye and treaded down the road towards her home.

An hour later, the sky had turned black and Sears stood outside the mansion of Clive Jameson.  The property was positioned on a hill a mile from the Rezgate city limits.  From the manor’s vista, the entire dreary city was visible except for the top of the towering White Wings hospital which stood tall enough to be shrouded in the city’s clouds and mist.

Sears turned away from the city and casually walked through the gates of Jameson’s property.  Trimmed green grass surrounded the paved walkway that circled around a giant stone fountain and connected to the front doorway.  Trimmed trees bordered the outside of the manor which looked like a modernized Scottish castle.  Sears walked up to the door and put out his cigarette.  Before he could knock, something was caught in his peripheral.  Something was dripping down a crack of the window outside the home.  The substance’s thickness and purple color stood out in contrast to the dripping water that had trickled down from the clouds.

Sears traced the crack in the window to a bullet-sized hole near the top.  Whatever the substance was, Sears thought, came from a projectile aimed into the Jameson’s home.  The bullet hole was much too angled and precise to be anything but a contemplated shot.  A smirk crossed the old man’s face. 

“We’ve got somethin’ here.”  He coated the area with a thick layer of dust and swabbed the substance into a vile then safely tucked it into his coat.  “Looks like the guy dodged the bullet that time . . . and  he’s still not home.”  Sears turned away.  “I’ll have to get this checked out.”

*        *        *        *        *

The Lab:        “Where the hell did you get this, David?” A balding tan skinned man in a white lab coat stood eyeing the substance that Sears retrieved from Jameson’s home.  “This is certainly not something you’d want to be caught walking around with,” the man said to Sears in an Eastern European accent. 

“So, you know what it is, Demetri?” Sears asked wide-eyed. 

“Hmm.  Well, I’ve an idea, however, I’ll need to run a few quick tests to ensure my thoughts,” the professor stated, switching his view from the chemical to Sears.  “Layla!” The professor’s echoes rang through the dimly lit room, passed the lab equipment and down a corridor.  Much of the area was lit with a dark shade of blue from the glowing bulbs positioned to keep test tube materials preserved. The corners were still covered in shadow.

            A young slender woman then entered the room.  Her long brown hair flowed down her neck, parting ways at her shoulders; one path flowing down to the naval area of the dress suit she wore, while the other path fell gracefully to the back of her black dress pants.  Her whole dark outfit, however, was partly covered with a white lab coat.  “Yes, Professor Szendrey?” 

“Ms. Kinellis, I need you to prep the chemical’s lab for me.  I must run this sample through and see what it contains,” Professor Szendrey politely asked of his assistant.

 “Yes, sir,” Ms. Kinellis obediently responded and then hurriedly walked back down the bluish corridor. 

            Sears eyed the young woman as she walked off.  “How’s the girl coming along, Demetri?” asked Sears as he found a nearby chair and took a seat. 

“Oh, she’s doing great!  She’s a fast learner, you know.  I’ve already given her the privilege of doing her own independent studies,” Szendrey proudly stated of his pupil.  “If she keeps up the progress, she’ll be the top doctor here at White Wings in no time!”  Sears grinned. 

“She may become the Big Doc here but scientist wise, I’ll be damned if I find a better one than you, Demetri.”  Szendrey bashfully attempted to straighten his glasses. 

“So, tell me David, why do you bring such an oddity of a substance to my lovely laboratory at White Wings?”  Sears looked down with an odd smirk. 

“You know about those mysterious suicides that have happened to the candidates for mayor of Rezgate, right?  Well, I’m the lucky man who took the case and that stuff you’re about to look at, well, it just may be our suspect’s weapon of choice.”  Szendrey stared in awe at his long time friend. 

            “David, this whole situation you’ve found yourself in is serious.  Are you certain you can do this alone?  I mean, you’re not exactly, as they say, a spring chicken.”  Sears looked up into his friend’s concerned eyes.

 “Yeah, I realize that, Demetri, but I can’t just turn my back on the city.  I’m not tryin’ to toot my own horn but who else in this city is going to get to the bottom of all this and stop the matter before it destroys the city once and for all.”  Szendrey could not hide his concerned expression. 

“There’s a fine line between a savior and a martyr.  I think, David, the question you must ask yourself is whether or not you’d be strong enough to save YOURSELF in this whole chaotic process.”  The words pierced through the skull of Sears and burrowed a place in his brain.  He looked up into the glowing blue light and let the hue drench his face. 

“Professor, the lab is ready.”  Szendrey looked back at his protégé with a smile. 

“About time for me to get to work, eh, David?”  With that, Szendrey walked into the dark corridor, leaving Ms. Kinellis and Sears together in the room.

            “The professor has told me a lot about you, Mr. Sears,” Ms. Kinellis said with her back to him.  “All about your wartime endeavors, your respectable detective resume.  You must truly have a strong mind in order to think quickly in the heat of battle not to mention the cases you’ve solved.  I mean, the police have nothing on you.”  Sears looked to the ground and gave an amused grunt. 

“Well, that was then and this is now.  In this old age of mine, I’m not just thinkin’ as clearly.  Hell, I can’t even move as fast anymore.  If this was thirty-five years ago, back in the desert, you better believe I’d be mincemeat by now.”  Ms. Kinellis turned back to Sears with a confused look.  “I just wish I have the strength now that I had back then.  Would make my job a hell of a lot easier.”

 “But you’re the same man as you’ve always been, right?  I don’t believe age could change a man’s view on life.”  Sears stood up from his chair.  

“After you’ve seen the things I have, age starts whittling every deadly, heartless, suicidal, careless thing you’ve done down into a piece that your brain can understand.  It’s just a bit hard for me to get the whole picture . . . and it’s gettin’ to me,” replied Sears. 

“Hmm.  After all the years of the professor talking to me about your great accomplishments, I never thought the real deal would be a real pushover.  But hey, deep down inside, I’m sure you still have it in you,” Ms. Kinellis attempted to turn her insult into a compliment but yet it still came off just as patronizing to Sears.

“I don’t know.”  Layla looked down in dismay.  “I’m sorry.” 

“No, it’s all right.  I know where you’re coming at and you have a right to say it.  I’m sure if any of my comrades would see me like this, well, they’d beat me down!” Sears said with a deep chuckle.  “I still have the fight in my heart, though.  Just my confidence is on the frits and that’s a hell of thing to lose.”  Ms. Kinellis never altered her gaze from the floor. 

“Well, I . . .”  Layla could not quite get herself to continue her interrogation of Sears. 

“So, Lil’ Layla, what made you decide to follow Szendrey?” asked Sears in an attempt to break the awkward silence while he paced the small lab. 

Layla stood with her right hand held her left elbow while looking down to the ground below.  “Well . . . first of all, my parents died when I was just a baby so I was raised by my grandfather in a small town in central Spain.”

“No accent?” asked Sears continuing his exploration of the lab.

“I’m not Spanish myself,” Layla explained.  “But that’s beside the point.  When I was fifteen, my grandfather was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease.”

“I’m sorry,” Sears said sincerely as he turned to look in Ms. Kinellis’s glistening eyes.

“It’s not your fault.  My only regret in the whole matter was that I had to watch him slowly die.  I couldn’t bear to see my own grandfather, the only man I ever loved, have his mind whither to the point where he couldn’t even remember his own beloved granddaughter’s name,” exclaimed Ms. Kinellis with a voice filled with authority.

“I couldn’t imagine something worse,” sympathized Sears who now gave his full attention to the young woman.

“I was so distraught when he died.  I developed my own passion to discover a cure for the mind’s deterioration and its weaknesses.  And I supposed that’s when Professor Szendrey came into the picture.  I had nowhere else to go and he took me in.  Not only did he give me a home but also hope.  He gave me the hope that I could one day unlock the secrets of my grandfather’s illness and prevent it from ravaging the lives of anymore people.  I’ve traveled the world with him finding new possible cures.”

            “That’s a truly noble cause Layla.  I hope that one day your work will pay off,” Sears gave Ms. Kinellis his own glimmer of sanguinity. 

            Layla gave a quick smile and opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted with the reappearance of Professor Szendrey.

“David, I have your answer,” said Szendrey as he entered the room holding a piece of paper.  “Layla, would you please excuse us.”  Ms. Kinellis gave a shy look at Sears, nodded, and walked away. 

“What do you got, doc?” Sears replied in anticipation. 

“I have Yabba,” said Szendrey. 

“What the hell is that?” Sears said with a confused look.

 “A history lesson, David.  During the mid-twentieth century, South Eastern Asian countries had rather oppressive governments.  Usually you’d expect an uprising from the people to get rid of these bad governments.  But these governments, oh they were smart.  They learned how to avoid revolts and coups from their people with a drug that was mass produced and mass distributed.  Mandatory shots were given out annually that supposedly prevented various diseases.  However, these shots had traces of a, well, to put it in simple terms, mind control drug.  A drug that makes their people obedient.  Yabba, as they called it, can be found in the flowers of Vietnam.”  Sears, still confused, walked closer to the professor. 

“Obedient?”

 “Yes, but they used small doses.  What we have here in your sample, is a much greater dose.  Enough to make a man clinically insane in just a few days.  There are a few other components to the chemical but I’ll have to do further research to find out what they are.”  Sears came up to the professor and put his hands on his shoulders. 

“You do that.  But what you’ve just told me . . . I don’t know how I can repay you for this.”

 Szendrey smiled and said, “Oh, David.  I could grant you immortality and I would still be in your debt.”  Sears grabbed Szendrey’s hand and shook harder than the professor had expected.  Sears turned to the corridor and started walking. 

“David, this discovery doesn’t exactly make this whole situation any more comforting for me.  Promise me you won’t do anything . . .”

“Don’t worry about me,” interrupted Sears.  “I’ll be fine.  Besides, I got a nice little pep talk from your Layla.  The darlin’ eased my worried mind.”

*        *        *        *        *

The Avenue:        The streets glistened in a watery gold from the reflection of the rows of streetlights along the sidewalks.  The clouds above were blood red which gave the pavement below a surreal mixture of black, gold and crimson.  David Sears walked down the middle of the road, his overcoat billowing behind him.  The patter of rain could be heard hitting the top of it.  The entrance to White Wings could be seen behind Sears giving an unnatural neon glow.  Sears appeared to be walking a one way path that would hopefully end at his own home.  The path was surrounded by tall brick buildings that directed whoever walked the streets to a trail without option.

            Sears’ complacent march was cut short due to a slick black limousine parked in a way that barricaded one end of the street from the other.  Sears stared down the tinted windows.  The rain fell harder.

            Four dark figures jumped from behind the car, hit the top with an aluminum thud, and jumped down on the other side.  These men hid their faces in poorly cut ski masks but carried machine guns all pointed at Sears.  “The hell!” grunted Sears as he changed his stance to a slight slouch facing his aggressors.  He placed his left arm in the back of his coat and kept it steady on the hoist of his steel revolver.  The four men steadily kept their aim, never losing sight, never flinching. 

            The piercing silence was broken by the unlatching of a car door.  A tan skinned man donned in a black and red zoot suit and a matching hat came out. 

“Well, looky what we’ve got heya, boys!”  The man strutted passed the row of armed man and even gave one a proud pat on the shoulder of one.  “It’s Ol’ Davey-Boy!  The Rezgate detective extraordinaire!”  The man raised his right arm in front of him and clenched the air as an antagonizing gesture towards Sears.  “A little birdy told meh you took the case of the ‘suicidal mayors’.”

Sears stood steady.  He eyed the flamboyant gangster while watching his armed henchmen.  “Ya see, my geriatric friend,” the thug walked towards Sears, grabbed the neck section of his vest and whispered, “that doesn’t sit well with yours truly.” 

            At that last remark, Sears grabbed the thug’s arm and twisted it around bringing him down to the wet ground.  With a knee on his neck and his arm held back, Sears took the revolver from the back of his coat and aimed at the four men.  The lackeys quickly ran up to Sears. 

“STOP!” yelled the downed man in a broken voice.  The four men slowly back up.  “Can you please let go, I wanna talk to yeh.” 

“The ground is a good a place as any,” replied Sears still aiming at the gunmen. 

“Ugh!  Fine, I’m sure yeh know meh.  I’m Cosimo Lombardi.  I control this city from da underground.” Lombardi attempted to take verbal dominance to compensate for his obvious physical submission. 

“Ha!  Then this might not be a position you’d want to be seen in!” Sears laughed to himself while holding down his assailant. 

“You’re makin’ a BIG mistake, old man,” Lombardi muttered with his mouth against the pavement. 

“Well, you should known better to make duel when you ain’t even got anything to back yourself up.” 

Lombardi made an amused grunt.  “That’s not what I mean.  Takin’ dis case.  You’re tryin’ to stop somethin’ that’ll benefit meh.  And findin’ yourself on the wrong side of meh, will mean death to you!”

            Sears increased his grip on the mafia lord.  “How the hell are you going to benefit from a bunch of candidates killing themselves?” Sears questioned. 

“That’s for meh to know, and yeh to mind your own damn business!  Let’s just say, you’ll live a longer life if you just walk away from dis.”  Sears put more pressure on his knee making Lombardi give a loud moan.

 “This whole thing is crazy and you want it to continue?  You’re just as sick as . . .”  Before he could finish, Sears was jabbed in the head by the butt of a gun from a fifth henchman that snuck around from behind.  

            Sears fell to the ground in a daze, releasing his grip on Lombardi.  “Losing your sense in your old age!  Forgot yeh had a whole back side, huh!”  Lombardi jumped up and began to kick the fallen man in the ribs.  “If yeh won’t quit, we’ll put yeh outta commission!”  Lombardi ran to the limo as his henchmen continued the beatdown.  “Shoot him in the arm!”  One of the men held down Sears’s right arm with his foot and shot twice through his bicep making him groan out in pain.  Lombardi came back to the scene with a crowbar.  “I’m in it for the business!” Lombardi struck Sears across the ribs with the iron tool.  Lombardi walked over to his Sears and placed a foot on his head.  Lombardi gripped the bar with both hands.  “ . . . and you’re bad for it.”  The iron tool jabbed down into Sears’ temple.  Hazy darkness quickly ensued.

*        *        *        *        *

The Hospital:        Sears lay in a hospital bed attached to wires of life support.  The man could not see anything but the darkness in his eyelids.  The constant beeping of an E.K.G. kept his mind content.  He heard the sound of the door open and then voices; fuzzy voices in the distance.  It seemed to be an exchange between Haraki and Jameson.

“Oh my god, David!” cried Ms. Haraki.

“Ms. Haraki, he can’t hear you.  He suffered a concussion and might be out for a much longer time,” replied Jameson.

“Oh, Mr. Jameson,” said Ms. Haraki in a daze.

            There was a slight pause between words followed by a pressure on the right of Sears’s bed that he knew instantly was created by Ms. Haraki as she sat down next to him.

“My god, David.  I told you to go straight home last night!  Now look what happened!  You’re in this hospital bed!  You could have been killed!” scolded Ms. Haraki.

            The pressure of the bed faded and the footsteps of Ms. Haraki were heard moving from the side to the front of the bed.

“I don’t understand you.  What are you trying to prove?” said Ms. Haraki in an attempt to make sense of the whole matter.

Ms. Haraki let out a defeated sigh and stopped talking all together.  Sears could feel her hand being placed on his right arm.

“Ms. Haraki, I came as soon as I heard what happened,” said Mr. Jameson.

            Jameson’s footsteps could be heard moving closer to where Ms. Haraki was standing in the room.

 “You must admit he is a dedicated man,” said Jameson.

“His dedication almost killed him last night!” replied an enraged Ms. Haraki.

“Yes, it’s a very tragic scene.  And I hate to think that if it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t be here,” said Jameson.

“You don’t know David like I do.  I’m sure he’s proud to have taken that beating out there.  He’s a proud man.  Whatever it takes to finish the job, he’ll do it,” said Ms. Haraki.  “Even if it kills him.”

“I see.  Do they know who did it,” asked Jameson.

“I doubt it.  The nurses said they just found him out in the street,” said Ms. Haraki.

“That’s Rezgate’s current criminal investigation priorities for you.  This city is all shot to hell,” grunted Jameson.

            Between Sears’ two visitors, none spoke.  Sears could feel the gaze of their eyes upon him.

“Ms. Haraki, I need you to tell David this for me.  It’s very important,” Jameson pleaded of Ms. Haraki.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit inappropriate to talk about ‘work’ at a time like this?” said Ms. Haraki with a slight sound of scorn in her voice.

“I was attacked by that thing last night,” said Jameson.

“You were?!” said Ms. Haraki in an elevated voice.

“Yes, I was being escorted home in my limousine then suddenly, out the window, I saw it running after the car!  Keeping up with me!” explained Jameson.

“With a moving vehicle?” asked Ms. Haraki to make sure she heard right.

“Yes, but that wasn’t it.  The next thing I knew, it was on the roof trying to break in.  I ordered my driver to speed up and to drive eradically to rid of it.  Eventually, it fell off and we drove to a safe haven,” continued Jameson.

“Wow . . . I’ll be sure to tell David when he comes to,” said Ms. Haraki.

“Thank you, Miss Haraki, I truly appreciate it,” said Jameson.
            Another pause claimed the room in silence.  It was a full two minutes before someone spoke again.

“Don’t leave his side Miss Haraki.  He needs you . . . I believe you’re all he has.”

            The sound of Jameson’s footsteps could be heard fading away until the sound of a door opening came.  The door shut and only Ms. Haraki was left to accompany Sears.  Her footsteps were heard approaching the bed.  “David, I’ll be here for you.”

*        *        *        *        *

The Crossroads:              Sears opened his eyes to a hazy darkness.  He lay bandaged and bruised across his mid-section and head.  He looked around and saw no one was there.  Ms. Haraki’s body was not present.  The body with the voice that Sears remembered said would never leave his side.  With a fury, he ripped out the IV injected into his skin.  He stood up out of the bed, positioned himself on the windowsill and began climbing down the side of White Wings hospital.  The rain made the walls slippery but he was careful.  He planned every placement of his feet and hands.  The rain poured down his body, peeling off his bandages a bit.  Eventually, his feet finally hit the cold drenched pavement and he staggered on.

            The clouds of the sky began turning gray as the man made his way down what seemed like a never-ending street.  Eventually, Sears found himself at the front door of his detective agency.  He propped himself against the door and found it was locked.  A rather large rock sat in front of the building.  He went over to it, and with the entire strength of his body, he lifted it up to his chest and positioned himself five meters in front of the door.  Sears began running.  He picked up enough speed that, when he collided with the door, it busted open sending Sears to the floor.  He was in.  There were footsteps coming from the second floor.  Footsteps that echoed throughout the whole building and seemingly vibrated into the heart of Sears.  With all of his might, he faltered his way up the staircase as he constantly held onto the sidewall to maintain balance.  The door to his office was opened a jar.

            Sears kicked the door open with mighty authority and saw Ms. Haraki, lifeless on the floor.  A cold fear ran through his veins.  He staggered next to her and knelt down.  Her skin was pale and cold but her blood was still circulating which was evident in the flowing crimson river that streamed down the side of her head.  Sears positioned her torso onto his knee and wiped the blood away.  Suddenly, there was a thud.

            Perched on the windowsill like a deadly vulture was a dark figure.  It was cloaked in a midnight black trench coat that trailed down its black boots.  It wore a hood that hid the top of its face and a black assassin’s mask that shadowed the bottom half.  Black gloves and tight black pants finished off the wardrobe of impending doom. 

            “Who are you?!” Sears bellowed with an authority.  The figure did not move.  It merely gave a serene glance at the old man.  Sears repeated, “Who are you?!”  The figure began to slowly laugh.  The laugh was a deep and hideous mixture of rasp, and electricity.  It was not a human laugh.  Slowly lifting itself from its perch, it spoke.

“Who am I?  You ask of me such a demanding question?  You couldn’t comprehend such knowledge, such enlightenment.”  Sears’ grip around Ms. Haraki’s body grew tighter.  “Your mind’s eye.  It’s biological ticking clock.  Your mind’s tester.”

  Sears grunted, “What are you talking about?”  It laughed. 

“It is not who I am but what I mean.  We were born to fight each other . . .  No, not fight.  Test.  Does your mind have what it takes to stop me?  Or will you fall like all of the others before you.”  The figure looked down.  “This place is brain dead.  Allow me to euthanize it for its own sake!” 

Sears yelled, “You’re sick!”  It laughed again. 

“Am I?  Or is it that you simply cannot comprehend what I am doing?  My name is Nygma, the enigmatic shadow gliding on the floor of enlightenment.  If you don’t want to enlighten your mind, then let me rid you of the burden!”  The monstrous voice almost became too unbearable for Sears to tolerate.  “Hehe.  I’ll let you continue this game for a little longer.  But just remember these wise words:  The mind is a terrible thing . . . TO WASTE!”  At that, Nygma threw out a small green orb that exploded into a blinding white light on impact.

After the light dispersed, Nygma was nowhere to be found.  Sears looked down at Ms. Haraki and saw a small yellow piece of paper sticking out of her white coat.  He steadied his eyes on the scribbled words and read, Your mind is too feeble as are the minds of the city.  One by one they will fall and you will be unable to do anything but watch.  Sears looked up and screamed at the top of his lungs.  “DAMN IT!”

Hours later, the phone rang an echo that shimmered throughout the office.  Sears, pale-fleshed, solemnly reached for it and brought it to his ear.  “David, it’s Clive.  What do you think you’re doing out of the hospital?  I went over and found neither you nor Ms. Haraki there.”  There was a brief pause. 

“I came back to my office and found that monster with Haraki, unconscious.  She wasn’t infected with the yabba.  It did it to prove a point . . .  that it’s stronger than me.”  Jameson sighed over the phone. 

“Is she okay?  Where is she now?”  Sears replied, “I took her to her home to sleep off the whole ordeal.  She’ll be okay there.” 

Jameson cleared his throat.  “It’s about time we stopped this, David.  I feel guilty to leave the onus all to you.  Besides, in the passed forty-eight hours, you’ve gone through so much.”  Sears made no noise whatsoever.  “I’ll take your silence as agreement.  Listen to me.  I’ve made a whole plan to corner the psycho.  I’ve talked with Adam Miller of White Wings to escort me in a rather attention getting manner.” 

“What exactly do you have planned?” said Sears breaking his own silence.

 “It’s simple.  I’ll play the role of the helpless hospital patient.  Truly tempting bait for a sadistic murderer.  All you must do is stay close by and wait.   When it comes, we strike together.  It’ll be the end of it all.”  Sears smirked. 

“I’m willing to do anything to stop it at this point.” 

“Are you in?” Jameson replied.  There was a long pause.  Sears remembered the passed forty-eight hours and what had happened to not only him but to the one woman close to him. 

“I’m in.” 

Jameson made a joyous grunt.  “Good.  Sears, your legend will ring throughout Rezgate for years to come.  I can guarantee that.”

“My legend will forever live in my own head, in my mind.  As my mind dies, it dies.  But the city will live on.” 

Jameson sighed.  “Remember, the fires of war can purge even the most sinful of men clean.”

*        *        *        *        *

            The Elevator:  The seeds of war were planted.  Clive Jameson feigning wounds in a hospital bed,  David Sears standing outside under the light gray clouds, positioned so he can get a clear view of the hospital window.  He wore the same clothes he wore  before the injury but still had the bandages and bruises on his torso and head.  Sears knelt down near a grassy knoll and reached to the back of his overcoat.  His gun was neatly placed in a holster for he was certain he was going to need it.

            The sound of glass shattering made Sears look up at Jameson’s room.  The glass of the window fell down to the ground like glistening jagged snowflakes to the ground.  Sears quickly stood and ran inside the building.  He pushed open the door, and ran up the stairs.  Three flights of them blurred passed the man like an instant memory.  The third floor was Sears’ goal and he was going to reach it.  He climbed and climbed, not giving in to the physical pain.  No human soul stood in his way.  No phantom would even dare block the path of the determined man.  The final ten steps lay in wait as Sears contemplated killing for one last time. 

            On the third floor was nothing to be found but an exasperated shotgun-toting Jameson.  “David!  The roof!  It’s headed to the roof!  You take the elevator up, I’ll stand guard blocking the only escape route in the building.  If the bastard wants to escape, it has no choice but to jump and I doubt even a man of steel could survive a fall of that altitude.”  Sears nodded and ran into the open elevator.  He turned to press the ‘rooftop’ option on the control panel.  The elevator doors came together with the image of Clive Jameson staring back at him being the last image he saw of the real world.

Alone the man stood in wait.  The pure white light that surrounded him couldn’t illuminate the darkness of his mind.  The neon numbers, that signified the floor number, above him turned from three to four to five eventually coming to the number fourteen.  Sears took out his gun and examined it.  He unloaded the magazine of bullets and quickly re-inserted it just to make sure he was fully loaded. 

Twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven. 

He placed the gun back in the holster. 

Thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine. 

Sears could feel his body rising as if it were heading up to the heavens.

 Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one. 

The images of the old days of war resurfaced in his mind.  He remembered how he killed people, how he saved them, and how he preyed on whomever was foolish enough to sneak in passed the crosshairs of his sniper. 

Seventy-three, seventy-four, seventy-five, seventy-six. 

The face of Kaori Haraki entered his mind.  Truly, he cared for her.  He may have even loved her and he surely would have died for her.  He thought not seeing her again would be his only regret. 

Ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight. 

Demetri Szendrey, one of the few men Sears could call a friend.  He remembered their past.  He saved Szendrey’s life as Szendrey once saved his own.  The past of the two never was revealed to anyone and was only known to them.  The idea of not seeing him again was not as painful.  He had a life in his protégé, Layla, someone he can pass down the deeds of his past to and hopefully one day would change the world for the better.

 One hundred and fourteen, one hundred and fifteen, one hundred and sixteen, one hundred and seventeen. 

The mind of David Sears had never been as clear as it was at this moment.  He saw the light in his soul and he saw the light he was about to obtain.  He is about to create that hellfire that would no doubt purge him clean of his sinful past.  His mind was clear of the gray haze that plagued him for years. 

One hundred and seventy, one hundred and seventy-one, one hundred and seventy-two, one hundred and seventy-three. 

This was his mind’s revelation. 

One hundred and eighty-four.  The doors opened and the rain blew in.

·                    *           *           *              *

            The Rooftop:    Sears instantly pulled out his gun, aimed, and stepped out onto the rain-flooded rooftop.  There was nothing but cement below and no objects anywhere around him.  No vents, no structures, no supplies, nothing existed on the rooftop.  It was just him and the mist.  Behind Sears was the enormous White Wings dove wings logo that Sears saw just two days ago near Jameson’s mansion.  The sky turned a darker shade of gray as the rain poured harder.  The entire city was but a collection of buildings that formed a hazy maze below.  Sears steadily walked up towards the center of the roof.  Slowly the black figure of Nygma came into view as it stood on the edge of the building gazing down at the city below.

“I’m proud of you.  You’ve accepted the strength of your mind and chose to fight for a purpose.  I cannot even begin to tell you how many men just gave up and let their mind die.  No one realizes that without the essence of your thoughts, your body is useless.”  Nygma turned around and faced David Sears who kept his pistol aimed at the figure’s head.        Nygma reached to its back and retrieved a scythe.  The scythe was small but the blade was a deadly crescent.  “Will you prove me wrong?  Can you resist your natural impulse to submit?” 

Sears stood steady.  “Whatever it takes.  This is gonna end.” 

“Oh, the plague will continue,” said Nygma as it lifted and flicked its left wrist to reveal a needle-like blade dripping with the same purple substance that Sears gave to Szendrey days ago.  “AND THERE’S NOTHING YOU CAN DO TO STOP IT!” 

Nygma jumped up and landed five meters in front of Sears.  Its left hand connected to the needle pointed to the ground as its right hand lifted the scythe high above its head.  Sears’ muscles tensed at the sight of Nygma’s new found position.  “Fall into comatose.”  Sears grunted.  “Come at me with all your mind’s might, Sears!”

            Nygma ran at Sears and swung the scythe like a mad ogre which Sears quickly dodged.  Sears grabbed Nygma’s  scythe hand, lifted his leg and kicked Nygma in the stomach sending the fiend sliding away on the water. 

Nygma threw the scythe upwards, making it disappear in the clouds above.  Sears looked back down at Nygma to see it was coming at him with the needle readied along its left wrist.  The needle was being repeatedly jabbed towards him but Sears was miraculously able to use the fiend’s own momentum to continuously knock away the potentially mind decaying needle strikes. 

The scythe fell back down and Nygma caught it.  Now, Sears found himself dodging both weapons as he backed up.  In one fateful blow to Sears’s right arm by the scythe, the gun went flowing far out of reach.  In one spontaneous grasp of his arm, Sears grabbed Nygma’s needle and turned the whole figure around.  Sears grasped the phantom and squeezed his arms against its stomach.  Nygma struggled and struggled and its deadly scythe fell to the ground  The rain fell on them loosening Sears’s desperate grip. 

            It was the final moment.  Nygma slid loose and unsheathed the needle.  Sears quickly grabbed the scythe.  One final strike.  Nygma jabbed the needle into the heart of Sears.  Sears slashed the blade across the chest of Nygma.  They both fell back. 

            Nygma lay on the floor with its blood pouring out, tainting the rain water.  Sears held his chest and crawled over to his enemy.  With his left hand, he lifted up the hood and saw a pair of beautiful raging brown eyes.  They were the eyes of a woman scorned.  They were the eyes of someone who lost everything.  They were the eyes of Layla Kinellis.

·                *         *           *        *

The Heavens:        “I couldn’t find a cure, David.  I did everything I could, but I couldn’t find one,” Ms. Kinellis pleaded to Sears with tears flowing down the side of her face. 

            “Damn it.  Layla, I don’t understand.  You had the potential.  You would have found what you were looking for!” Sears bellowed as he knelt, wounded, next to her.

            “In this world?  In this city?  I’ve searched.  This world is rotten.  People don’t realize the potential of their psyche and take it for granted.  If more people like you or my grandfather existed in this godforsaken realm, Earth would be thriving instead of crumbling into nothingness.  As it is now.  Poverty, war, death, and famine.  And no one could care less.  They dwiddle their lives away instead of searching for a cure as I have.”

            “I know you’ve had a bad past, Layla, but you can’t take it out on the world,” reasoned Sears.

            “Why not?  Weak minded fools as far as the eye can see.  Take Cosimo.  I used him to get me the inside on how to infiltrate the city and where my victims would be at any given moment.  Hehe.  But the funny thing is, he thought my goal was to take the city ransom and that he would receive his fair share,” Ms. Kinellis explained with her glazed eyes staring above into the clouds.

            “But you wanted to see Rezgate deteriorate just like the mind of your grandfather.  And Cosimo would have just found himself like all the other victims.” Sears attempted to make sense of the whole mess.

            “That’s right, but you saved the world.  I was the villain this world needed and you remained the hero.  You’ve proved me wrong.  Now, as I lay here, you watching me die, I have only one thing on my mind.  Why aren’t YOU dying?  I injected you with a concentrated dose,” Ms. Kinellis asked as she raised her arm to him.

            “The professor injected me with an antidote while I was admitted into White Wings.”

            Ms. Kinellis gave an amused giggle and stared back up into the sky, “I’m sorry.  The onus of the city and the world is now off my shoulder,s but in the professor’s efforts he has incidently placed them upon yours.  So tell me.  Can you do it?  Can you keep the city safe?  Are you Rezgate’s resident Superman?  Can you save the world?”
            “Of course I can’t.  This world is going to die.  But I can work to fight.  I can fight to prove to future generations that there were people who tried to save it all.  And when it’s my time to join you in the afterlife, it’ll be said in stone that man can be redeemed,” Sears said as he placed his arm upon hers.

            “Silly.  The afterlife is a privilege that I won’t have,” Ms. Kinellis whispered as she closed her eyes, fading into nothingness.  At the point of her death, David Sears knew the fight wasn’t over.  Rezgate wouldn’t be won through a blade battle with Nygma on top of White Wings.  Layla Kinellis thought the world was beyond saving so she decided to end its misery.  Certainly, her way was the easy method to end the pain, but Sears knew there was another way.  He would have to be the soldier he always could be.  He had to fight for the good of Rezgate, to end crime and evil in the city. Sears knew it wouldn’t just come over night.

            Sears watched the lifeless woman on the floor.  The death of Ms. Kinellis was the beginning.  It was a bittersweet victory for the aging hero.  Kinellis’s heart was in the right place but Nygma’s mind was the one plagued with sickness.  She was the martyr that will soon spark a revolution in the city of Rezgate led by David Sears and Clive Jameson.  Her death brought about an artificial light that shined through the clouds.  She was the false hero that would go down in history as death’s incarnate.  If David Sears would go on to be the warrior of Rezgate and Clive Jameson its voice, then Layla Kinellis would be the mother of enlightenment for the city, giving birth to justice in a world gone black.

            Sears stood up, drenched in the falling water.  His eyes focused on the heart of Layla Kinellis, a heart that had long since stopped.  A world of redemption was at the feet of Sears.  Sunlight broke through the thick aura of clouds above and scattered white light across the city.  This chaste luminescence paved a new road for Sears to follow, a deadly path to salvation.