Interview With Death
Magnum Vigilante #2
Edgar Fowler was reading his notes, trying to make sure he got every detail perfect, he wasn’t apart of a large news agency, so he couldn’t afford to be sued for liable. At the back of the bar he waited for his interviewing to arrive, it was quiet night at the Lapras Diner and Lounge, a popular den of low-lives.
While the front had sexy waitresses serving drinks on trays of silver and perky asses, the backroom was reserved for private dealings. If the cops were on the take they’d have bugged it years ago, but to date, it is a perfect place for Edgar to do business with the Magnum Vigilante.
The notorious gangster killer, and corrupt official executioner that has Haze City in his grips, between him and the one known as Muse, there seems to be a rise of violent crime stoppers. Just as he put a tape recorder to his mouth to mumble some of his inner thoughts, he saw the only other person in the backrooms, the bartender, put a towel over his shoulder, and go to the back.
“The fog seems thicker in the city of late.” the Reporter spoke into his voice recorder. “Mere mortals and the demigods known as the political class, who rules over them has been in the grips of this madman some call a savior. Despite blowing up an entire section of the city that was in the grips of a violent street gang, has been hailed as knight in filthy armor we need.”
Lighting his cigarette, he began to smoke, despite the no smoking sign that was posted above his booth.
“Smoking those things will kill you.” a voice form the shadows remarked, as Edgar blew a puff of smoke into the air.
There was a pregnant pause in Edgar’s entire body as he saw the yellow, scarecrow mask of the black clad vigilante come out from the shadows.
“You shoot people for violating city ordinances?” Edgar replied cooly, with a nervous undertone.
“Only if it causes death and mayhem to the innocent.” the Vigilante responded, the black lenses of his mask, gleamed as he moved into the light strung up above the booth.
Edgar motioned for him to take a seat on the opposite end, and his interview guest obliged, his automatic magnum pistol in its holster at his hip.
“You carry that thing with you everywhere?” the reporter asked with genuine curiosity as he kept the tape rolling.
“Now I do.” responded the masked man, as he put both his hands onto the booth table.
“Tell me, Magnum, why do you do what you do? What inspire this obsession with putting the fear of gun into the criminal underworld?” the reporter tried to be poetic as a noir detective, but came off as a hokey blogger.
“Because this city doesn’t have a underworld…this city has an open air problem, where you have drug dealers pushing drugs on kids in open daylight. Where parents are too afraid to leave their prison cell apartments, overseen by slumlords who work on the commissions for tenant rights. No, this isn’t about fighting the unseen evils, this wicked tree’s roots are wrapped around every concrete skyscraper, and public house in this city…God, I know the problem starts at its head.”
“The former mayor?” Edgar inhaled his cigarette and watched the gestures of the Vigilante for any sign of humanity through his Halloween mask.
“She was…she was only the middleman, what happened to me…that required a sign off from a higher office…” the Vigilante went quiet, his head slightly hung down.
“Tell me the story…my readers will want to know more about the man behind the mask.” the reporter opened his note book to write down notes and observations of his subject.
“You want a name?”
“I want everything.”
***
There was a man, a good man, a man with a wife and two beautiful children, he was a former cop who had to retire do to testifying against police corruption. His ex-partner was selling drugs, and taking bribes, he testified before the city council, and his reward was a early pension, and a pink slip.
He wasn’t angry though, he knew the cities political class didn’t want to see their dirty launder hung out for public scrutiny. Going over to the penal system, he worked as a prison guard, keeping a strict but fair watch over his charges.
Despite following the regulations strictly, he was quick to administrate aid to prisoners, stopping three different murder attempts on prisoners. Stamping out the drug trade in the prison, he champions prisoner reforms and was far to advocate for prisoners he believed deserved parole.
However that ended when a new prisoner was put on his cell block, Mike Douglas, alias D. Man. A gang leader he was caught first day with a switch blade, having smuggled it in using his prisoner connections.
The guard despite his vigilance watched how the prison populace regress to how it was before, only worse. Murders, rapes, drug overdoses, it was all occurring when he was off shift. Despite the Warden telling him not to get involved, he investigated and put together an extensive file filled with evidence and provable felonies.
Prisoners would warn him against going against D. Man especially after he had legally maneuvered himself to an early parole. All he had to do was not speak up during the hearing, there were threats, warnings, and even phone calls to his wife’s cellphone.
He was tempted to allow that evil to slither out of the concrete hole he was placed, but he knew he’d be ultimately responsible for those in the public that monster would kill if he were to be released. On the day of the parole, the Warden warned him not to interfere, but he did, he got there with his folder, a projector presentation, and video evidence showing D. Man not only shouldn’t be on parole, he should have his sentence extended to life without parole.
Having called the press there, the parole board were in a tight bind, to free him then would be political suicide (if not their deaths to look like suicide). Ultimately parole was denied, and a district attorney from a neighboring state picked up the guard’s evidence and used it to prosecute D. Man making him eligible for the death penalty.
Sent to solitary confinement till his transfer, D. Man managed to speak one sentence to the man who denied his freedom, before he was sent down. “You’re about to be one lonely guy.”
Days went by and nothing happened, police protection, and new security measures were implemented on his property. His kids didn’t even go to school without uniforms watching over them. Unable to stay away from work he went to the prison, despite his wife’s pleading, he calmed her down with a confident tone of voice and reassuring stroke on her face.
That day, D. Man was sent away on the bus, to be prosecuted in the next state, he didn’t watch it happen, he was too busy cleaning up the mess he left behind. It wasn’t until late at night he returned home, driving up in his truck, he heard the shrill sounds of an alarm system before he even saw his house.
Speeding up, he saw red lights go off, and the alarm screeching, pulling up in front of his house, the doors were all open, and the windows were splattered with dark crimson.
Rushing inside, the neighbors watching the scene watched in horror as the large man got to the open doorway and collapsed to his knees. Releasing the most inhuman howl of agony, it was clear D. Man got his gruesome revenge.
Rape, mutilation, and ultimately a prolonged death. The police escort was called away by an unnamed commanding officer, and the dispatched were ordered by same unnamed superior to not send aid to his house.
Wasn’t till he called himself did everything from the SWAT team to the firefighters arrived, to carry out three body bags. Even the dog was eviscerated, and his entrails used to decorate the inside of the house.
It wasn’t till then his old captain when he was on the force told him, a matter-of-factly without genuine sympathy told him that D. Man escaped. Then apparently came to his house and spent hours torturing his family to death.
“How did you know all this Captain?” he looked in his eyes and saw the answer as obviously as if it were admitted. “You knew…you took his money, and you told them where they lived.”
The Captain slapped him hard, and scowled at him. “Its your own fault. Don’t go about speaking nonsense, you’re done with law enforcement and the penal system all together. You best leave this city, take what pension we give you and disappear, got it?”
The harshness in his voice was evident, he didn’t take it kindly to being exposed.
“How much did it take?” the Captain didn’t answer and stamped off. “How much you dirty bastard!” he cried and tackled the Captain to the ground, but he was dragged off by nearly a dozen officers.
“Arrogant bastard!” cried the Captain who punched his face to a blood pulp, only stopping when he noticed camera phones were out and recording. “Get him out of here, put him into a jail cell.”
They did just that, his old brothers in blue, locked him up at the local jail, a jail where the security cameras were turned off, and he was locked in a private cell in the basement.
Handcuffed to the railing of his bed, he expected the worst, if the cops were dirty to let his family be butchered, they were crooked enough to let him be set up for the kill.
From the door he saw a shape move past the glass window of the metal door. Then there was a face there, a familiar, hateful face, D. Man. With a mocking, sneering expression, he opened the trap used to put in a food tray, then he placed in a lighter fluid can, steadily he sprayed it into his cell.
Of course the ex-Guard called for help, what could he do? He called for help, calling for any intervention using the Lord’s name, again, till he went mute, hearing the sharp sound of flame being conjured from a match.
“Go to Hell!” D. Man said to him, before dropping the match.
***
Edgar Fowler was spellbound by what he heard, all of it was pristine, unedited history of one of the city’s most profound mass killers. A vigilante, former guard, death of family, police corruption, the audio on his recorder alone was worth millions to the right buyer.
“So how did you survive?—” Edgar put out another cigarette on the menu, along with the mount of exhausted cigarettes. The Vigilante even in his mask seemed listless, and trapped in a terrible memory, his arms were crossed. “—hello.” Whistling sharply drew the Vigilante out of his trauma, and his arms moved to his sides, under the table.
“Yes, what was the last question?” he sounded genuinely startled.
“How did you survive the fire?” the question made the masked face flinch.
“I didn’t say I was the one in the fire…” he responded.
“What do you mean? You were telling the story of you—”
“I was telling a story, not my story. Though mine is not too dissimilar.” the Vigilante’s voice took a somewhat odd tone, which frustrated the interviewer.
“What are you talking about? What was the point of talking all that garbage? My readers wanted to know about you, so what’s the deal, who are you?” there was a sinister feeling in the air, as the smoke of his cigarettes seem to shift as if someone opened the window on a windy day.
Slowly, the Vigilante brought a gloved hand to his yellow burlap sack mask, and slowly lifted it up, revealing a sight that made Edgar’s face twist in disgust.
“Jesus…its leaking.” was all he could say, as the mask was slowly pulled down again. “Who are you?”
The Vigilante was silent, and seemed to fidget in his seat. “I am the man who knows D. Man paid you to kill me.”
Just about to light a another cigarette, Edgar Fowler’s face went terrible pale, realizing he was caught. Despite revealing his intent with the wide surprise in his eyes, he turned it into a gentle smile, and laughed as he lit his smoke.
“What makes you think that? You seriously think I’m the type of guy who—” before he could finish his excuse the Vigilante revealed his hand.
“The type of guy who is twenty thousand in the hole for child support, has gambled away his inheritance, and is in the hole for twelve thousand for both his speed addiction, and betting on sports.” Edgar feined innocent, smiling as he leaned back, inhaling his cigarette with one hand, and allowing the other to rest on the back of the booth.
“Doesn’t mean I’d kill you.” Edgar’s eyes were like that of a wolf before it bounced at its prey’s throat.
“I only told you this, because you’ll be dead. I know you accepted the contract, fifty grand, and a clean slate, enough to move your came to another town, but you wanted my story, for blackmail most likely, greedy scum.”
Edgar was through with talking he reached his arm back, and felt for the shotgun he planted there before sitting down. Just as he grabbed the grip his whole body jumped as he heard the sound of metallic thunder. A sharpness perforated his guts, the Vigilante had his gun ready under the table.
The gunshots quieted the muffled clamor in the front room, which went deadly silent, as that shot was followed by several other shots that ultimately ended the interview.
***
Detectives Litman and Bricks were first on the scene, and to their dismay they found it was sanitized before hand. All the notes, and papers the victim Edgar Fowler that would’ve been in his bag were gone.
“You take anything from this scene?” Bricks accusingly asked the officer in charge of securing the scene.
“Everything is exactly how we found it.” he said with the straight face of a rat fink.
“You kiss your mom with that lying mouth.” Bricks slurped his coffee in the officer’s face before going to examine the scene. “See anything Litman?” he asked as his partner was on his knees examining the booth.
He didn’t answer because as his bushy, wild hair was scrapping under the desk, he felt something tucked away under the booth seats, as if it was meant to be found. Quietly he pocketed it, and rose up.
“Nothing. The scene seems to be tamper with. Footsteps in the blood, signs of outlines in the blood on the table resemble that of paperwork—” a harsh voice interrupted Litman’s analysis.
“The Vigilante took it.” Captain Tucker loudly and firmly stated as he entered the scene, dressed up in his fineries as if he were going to war. “And I want that in your report Litman.”
Brick and Litman both knew the Captain was covering not only his ass, but the asses of every crooked cop in his command, and who commanded him, Haze City Police Department was a cesspool.
“Yes sir.” Litman meekly obeyed, he kept two sets of reports anyway, so lying straight faced was something he got used to.
Bricks didn’t answer, he hated the Captain after he got his last partner killed, by sending him to deliver a warrant that he knows in his gut the Captain knew was a ambush.
“Well? Hurry up, the city doesn’t pay overtime.” the Captain and began to walk away.
“Unless their taking bribes.” Brick’s words were low but audible.
Captain turned around, and hurriedly stepped towards towards Bricks.
“What did you just say, you son of a bitch?!” The tension in that room was wound up tight enough to walk across.
“I said I’m hungry Litman, lets get lunch.”
There was a soft sternness in the Captain’s eyes. “Its eleven at night.”
“I missed breakfast.” Brick retorted, holding his stoic stare at the Captain, which was amplified by his thick lens glasses.
“Just finish it up, and type up your report.” that was the end of it, and everything was rushed out the door, as quickly as it took to pry the bloody body of the report from the booth, stuffing him into a body bag and loading him up to be laid down on a slab at the morgue.
***
Bricks and Litman were in the car, and as Bricks just parked them at the waterfront, he began to unwrap his bacon, cheese, potato chip burger with mayo and ketchup.
“What you find Litman?” he asked before stuffing a half-pound burger into his mouth.
Litman put a cigarette in his mouth, turned off the radio, and lowered his window a small crack to let the smoke out. Then he pulled out a blood stained audio recording device, and hit play on its recent recording.
“The fog seems thicker in the city of late…”
***
The audio stopped after the fifth deafening shot.
“What do you think Bricks?” Litman looked at his partner with concern in his eyes.
There was a long pause, as Brick finished drinking his extra large soda. “I think I should’ve gotten a coke, cause it’s gonna be a long night.”