The Shit-town Saga:

Midnight Rider part 3

Commissioner Reins removed the trash bag from the kitchen as his wife loaded the dishwasher. “Mikala said she needed money for books this semester,” his wife told him as she loaded the final plate.

“How much?,” he finished tying up the bag.

“Eighty.”

“Damn, did they raise prices again?”

“The campus took a lot of damage from the aliens. They need the funds.”

“Them and everyone else.”

Reins opened the back door and tossed the bag in the dumpster next to some stairs. It was then that he noticed the armored figure in the narrow alley behind his house.

“Goddamn!,” he leaped back and quickly shut the kitchen door, “The last guy used to do that shit but I was hoping you wouldn’t. We got a communication system for a reason.”

“It’s been compromised,” Cavalier informed him, “Some of your men have allied themselves with the Horseman so communication has to be face-to-face for a while. They called me up under false pretenses so they could ambush me.”

Reins became concerned, “How many of my boys?”

“Hard to say considering dirty cops were coming in from the whole Tri-State area to make a point.”

“Shit. This is bad.”

“I recognized Officer Drake’s voice, though. That was the cop who tried to intimidate me when I investigated the Eight Circle, right?”

“Yeah, Sammy Drake. You sure it was him?”

“He had a mask but I know the voice.”

“I’m not surprised Drake’s in on it. He’s been a problem,” Reins sighed and leaned against the wall, “A lot of them have been.”

“We’ll root them out and show them their way doesn’t work,” Cavalier assured him, “Tell me how to find Drake and I can use him to expose the Horseman.”

“I can give you Drake’s address but what happens after that?”

“Leave that to me.”

The next morning, Arthur Hawkwood plodded into the gym where the retirees normally played pickle ball. He carried his duffle bag at his side and hoped no one would bring up his emotional outburst the day before. He went to his usual net, only to see his partner playing against someone else. “Sorry, Artie,” the older man told him, “I got my brother here, today. Maybe next round.” Arthur didn’t blame anyone for being mad at him as he had acted rather inappropriately. The stress of learning his son had taken up the mantle of the Cavalier had gotten to him, and he was far from over it.

“I need someone to play against,” he heard a female voice nearby and when he turned, he saw a woman roughly his own age with straight, shoulder-length hair and a warm smile, “I’ve been waiting for someone to show up so I can play.”

“Sure,” Arthur extended his hand, “Arthur.”

“Mariah, nice to meet you.”

Arthur began setting up on his side of the net, “I gotta warn ya, I won’t go easy.”

“I hope not,” Mariah said and began to serve, “I haven’t been waiting this long for an easy win.”

Meanwhile, the Horseman patrolled a section of the city; his friends in the NYPD had informed him of break-ins in that particular area so he decided to check it out. With their forces spread thin, the cops were unable to monitor the neighborhood effectively so he was used as an alternative.

The Horseman caught up to the perp at a time of day in which most people would be at work and parked his motorcycle on the street as the thief tried to break into a brownstone. With the Horseman’s reputation growing, the thief wasted no time when he saw the biker and immediately pulled a gun, then took several steps back while opening fire. The Horseman dove for cover easily enough but several bullets hit his rear fender, causing massive dents and scrapes. The Horseman rolled along the pavement and, as he was not nearly as panicked as the thief, proved to be a much more accurate shot. The man screamed and fell onto the sidewalk with an ever-increasing pool of blood collecting under his belly. The Horseman slowly rose to his feet, walked over to the injured man, then raised his shotgun again. When he squeezed the trigger, it obliterated the thief’s lower jaw and most of his throat as the coup-de-gras. The Horseman didn’t always play with his food but he made exceptions if his target did something to piss him off, such as damaging his bike. When he made his way back to his motorcycle, he ran a gloved hand along the damaged fender and muttered angrily, “Asshole”.

****

Back at the gym, Arthur and Mariah sat with their backs against the wall as they drank from their water bottles.

“Well, you certainly didn’t go easy,” Mariah told him, “But you’re going down hard next round.”

“Luckily for you, I hit my second wind a long time ago so I’m already gassed anyway,” Arthur chuckled and took a drink.

“Come on, a guy in your shape should be able to go longer than that.”

“None of these guys have given me a workout so I guess I got complacent.”

“Glad I could provide a challenge at least,” she took a drink from her water bottle, “Were you an athlete?”

“Engineer.”

“You took care of yourself pretty well for an engineer.”

“… I had some hobbies. What about you?”

“Personal trainer.”

“Well, that makes sense,” he looked at her hands, “So,… not married, I see.”

“Never,” she said happily, “Not my thing. What about you?”

“A long time ago. I’m a widower.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you have any kids?”

“I have a son. He’s grown and out of the house,” he shook his head and smiled, “Somehow, he’s still a pain in the ass, though. But then, so am I, probably.”

“Yeah, well, family members have a way of making our lives more complicated,” she put her empty water bottle down, “Okay, break’s over. Time for another round.”

Arthur happily got up and followed her.

At a police precinct, Commissioner Reins entered a private room and quietly closed the door. A middle aged Latina woman sat at the other end of the table with a badge dangling from the chain around her neck. This was Officer Gabby Mendoza of Internal Affairs.

“Mendoza,” Reins greeted her professionally before having a seat.

“Reins,” she responded as she leaned back in her chair, “Things must be bad if you decided to meet me face-to-face.”

“The Horseman has friends on the force,” he said flatly as he crossed his legs, “If what Cavalier said is true, these friends are all over the Tri-State area. I need Internal Affairs on this to hopefully nip it in the bud before all this shit explodes into a federal case.”

“If we have officers connected to a vigilante ring across multiple states… yeah, I’d say this could turn into a federal case real quick. Have any leads from our department?”

“Sammy Drake.”

“Name sounds familiar. Remind me.”

“He beat some black kid half to death during a routine arrest. Grand theft auto. Him and his partner said the kid pulled a knife which somehow disappeared into a gutter during the scuffle. There wasn’t a lot of evidence for that but no real evidence of them lying, either.”

“Ah, that one,” she smiled a bit, “Being a person of color and being a cop is never easy when we see things like that.”

“Suppose not,” he brushed her off, “Communication with the Cavalier has been compromised since all our radios are geared to his frequency. They used that to set a trap for him since he was getting close but he singled out Drake.”

“See, that’s where things get murky,” Mendoza began.

“I know what you’re gonna say, but the Cavaliers…”

“… Have been helping out New York cops for years. I know. Of course, they haven’t always been friendly, either. Remember when the last guy fought an entire SWAT team to protect Agartha?”

“I was there that night,” Reins said defensively, “It wasn’t the best moment for anyone but when we managed to work together, we convinced the mayor to let them live underground. It’s been peaceful since then, for the most part. And besides,… you and I both know the NYPD haven’t always been friendly, either.”

“Fair point… But what happens if this Cavalier beats the shit out of a bunch of cops on the street? Gonna make excuses then too? Gonna work with the guy who betrayed Rex Robinson?”

“I would at least hear him out, considering past history.”

“Yeah, like you said, past history. The world isn’t the same anymore, Reins. It’s not like it was back in the 90s. Hell, the world hasn’t even been the same since last week! Did you notice the pile sof rubble on your way to work this morning? If you want me to crack down on Drake and whoever else might be involved with the Horseman, you gotta give me more than the word of some other vigilante you like better.”

“Promise me you’ll at least look into it. You don’t want Horseman supporters in our precinct anymore than I do.”

“I will but… Look, I know you want to avoid this blowing out of proportion but I honestly think it’s inevitable. With the Cavalier and Horseman going head-to-head and all the heat involved with those two right now, there’s no way this doesn’t get the attention of the DA at the very least. And if what you said is true about dirty cops crossing state lines, then the FBI is gonna look into it too.”

“I know,” Reins removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, “Let’s just say I’m cautiously optimistic.”

The next morning, Michael entered the family store, Hawkwood Hardware. It had been in the family for years with him and his father receiving residuals but as it was a small store near the suburbs, it wasn’t much. “Hey, Michael,” the large man behind the counter greeted him.

“Hey, Jorge,” Michael came through the door and leaned on the counter, “Got any transistors? My dad’s working on another project.”

“Yeah, I think I got a few left in the back.”

When he was the Cavalier, Arthur Hawkwood often had the store order material for “projects” while in reality, he used them to build small weapons and gadgets. The store even called in orders for electronics such as transistors as it made it easier for Arthur’s hobbies and it always came out of his own pocket. Michael would sometimes pick up these orders and even help his dad build and maintain them so asking if there were any transistors in the back was not uncommon. The idea was to build a tracking device to follow Drake in hopes he would lead him to the Horseman. This would be the first time Michael crafted a tracking device entirely by himself but he assisted his father enough times to know how it was done. And, of course, asking his father for help would be out of the question considering they were on the outs.

“This looks like the last box,” Jorge told him as he sat a cardboard box on the counter.

“That should do it. Thanks, Jorge.”

“How’s Arthur doing these days, anyway?”

“He’s good. He’s enjoying his new retirement.”

Jorge gave him a curious look, “What’s new about it? He retired years ago.”

“Oh… right,” Michael said sheepishly as he had forgotten his father gave up the superhero gig long after he retired from engineering. That life consumed him just as it did Hank and Reginald Hawkwood. It seemed it was his fate as well but he was tired of running from it. He had to take down the Horseman. He had fallen for a trap and he was pissed. Now he was the hunter.

Continued…