When the Man Comes Around part 4

Landmark 50th issue!

Michael Hawkwood’s life had been very odd up until this moment. Coming from a long line of heroes calling themselves The Cavalier, he was the fourth. He didn’t initially want the title, however. Calling himself the Squire, he was once the teen sidekick to his father, the third Cavalier. When his mother was accidentally killed, Michael took revenge and was traumatized by the ordeal, vowing to give up the superhero life forever. For a time, he even believed his family was afflicted by a curse to live and die violently. Years later, when his father was too old to continue superheroing, Michael took over his final case to bring closure. This sparked a renewed interest in super-heroics and Michael soon found himself acting as the Cavalier full time.

Of all the enemies he faced, none were more elusive than Nadie. Nadie was a cartel leader from the nation of Costa Triste who managed to take hold of the entire country, ruling it from behind the scenes. While the Cavalier and Nadie never met face-to-face, Nadie’s machinations pushed Cavalier both physically and mentally. After Nadie’s men bombed City Hall and his friend Emily Koboshi was injured, Cavalier threatened to venture to Costa Triste himself if Nadie attacked New York again. Soon after, Nadie orchestrated a contest among assassins and nearly killed Michael and his allies. Because of that, he made good on his promise and went to Costa Triste to finally confront Nadie.

On his second day in Costa Triste, Michael ran into a CIA agent named Saffron who warned him to return to New York. Michael refused to comply, resulting in Saffron’s men stealing Michael’s Cavalier armor. The agent left a note detailing a time and place to meet in order to get his armor back. Having wrapped a black scarf around the lower half of his face to conceal his identity, Michael arrived at the meeting place. Saffron stood on a rooftop, flanked by his two men. Ramona Sanchez was also present. A Costa Tristen citizen, Ramona worked alongside the CIA and was a member of the guerrilla army known as La Respuesta.

“I like the scarf,” Saffron told Michael sarcastically, “It doesn’t seem to provide as much protection as your armor, does it?”

“Where’s my suit?” Michael asked, undeterred.

“We’ll mail it to you once you’re back in the states.”

“You know, even if I wanted to leave right now, I couldn’t. I need my armor to call the Dragon.”

Saffron considered this for a few seconds before speaking, “Yeah, that hovercraft is pretty cool. Matter of fact, once we figure out how to access the armor, maybe we’ll take the Dragon for ourselves. It’s not like I need it to send you home. I can easily afford to put you on a plane. I’ll even pitch-in for a first class ticket.”

“Taking away my gear isn’t gonna stop me.”

“I can tell that I’m not getting through,” he brought his hands together in front of his lips, “Let’s say that, hypothetically, you had your armor right now. What would you do to bring Nadie down?”

“I’d find out everything I could. Learn what makes him tick. Learn about his weaknesses. Even a guy like that has something that he values and I’m sure I can take that from him.”

Saffron sighed, “Maybe I can ensure your little trip wasn’t a complete waste and let you in on some vital information. You’re here trying to figure out who Nadie is, right? Wanna know his real name?”

Michael looked at him curiously, but said nothing.

“He doesn’t have one!” Saffron threw his arms up in frustration, “At the time he was born, orphans in Costa Triste had no legal names… Oh, he was an orphan, by the way. The nuns called him Eduard, particularly the one who pretty much raised him. She was a nice old lady named Sister Mary Catalina. A long time ago, my agency tracked her down. An agent pretended to be a journalist and interviewed her shortly before she passed away. We even have the old footage in our headquarters, not that there’s a lot to really go on.”

“What did she have to say?”

“Doesn’t matter. She said nothing we didn’t already know. We had those dots connected. Nadie was a guy who rose through the ranks of the cartels and, after some time, became the country’s de facto leader.”

“He’s gotta have something we can use against him.”

“We got jack shit! He’s not the man behind the curtain. He’s the guy who owns the man behind the curtain. He’s untouchable in this country and it doesn’t matter what dirt you have on him.” Saffron sighed in defeat, “He’s not going down, unless…”. He trailed off while giving Michael a knowing look.

“Unless what?”

He shrugged, “Unless you kill `im,… but I get the impression that’s not exactly your thing.”

“That’s why we’re here!” Ramona spoke up, “We’re willing to do what it takes.”

“How’s that working out for ya?” Michael snapped, “Seems to me like he’s still very much alive.”

“Killing him is easier said than done,” she fired back.

“Maybe you’ve been going about this the wrong way.”

“You’re so arrogant,” Ramona shook her head, “Do you know anything at all about Costa Triste?”

“I know it’s not a good idea to eat the berries,” Michael joked.

Saffron sighed, “I think we’re just gonna keep talking in circles. This conversation’s getting pointless.”

“That’s true,” Michael turned to leave, “I’ll be seeing you.”

“Hey, Cav,” Saffron called after him, “We tried to play ball with you and you didn’t listen, so this is your last warning. You know as well as I do, Nadie has a literal army after you. You don’t have weapons, you don’t have armor, and you sure as shit don’t have our help. You walk away now and you’re basically a dead man.”

“I can live with that.”

Michael had his own plan as to how to retrieve his armor, but he couldn’t clue Saffron in on that. He had to wait. He left the roof of the apartment building and entered a stairwell and as he descended, he heard someone walking up, each step echoing off the concrete walls. Michael peeked over the railing and saw the man in black quickly climbing the steps with a gun in his hand. He recognized him instantly – Mano, Nadie’s chief enforcer. He came to New York multiple times and fought Michael, always managing to escape justice one way or another. He wasn’t sure how Mano found him, but it was obvious he knew Michael was in the building somewhere. In their battles, Michael always wore the Cavalier armor and that’s what it took to survive. He wasn’t looking forward to fighting him in civilian attire, but he had no choice. Mano would be on him soon and he didn’t like his chances once he was spotted.

Michael braced himself, taking a deep breath before placing a foot on the rails. Mano was at a landing, one floor down; had to time the jump just right, and hopefully do it before being seen. He dropped off the rails, falling directly on top of his target as he moved to the next flight. The gun was dropped and the sound of clanging metal could be heard for the next several stories until it finally hit the ground floor. Meanwhile, both men tumbled down the steps to the next floor down. When they eventually rolled onto the landing, they came to a rest in front of an open door leading to a hallway.

“There you are,” Mano slowly stood up, masking the pain of having fallen down the steps.

“You recognize me without the suit, huh?” Michael asked, his scarf still concealing the lower half of his face.

“Of course.”

“How’d you find me?”

“That’s my secret,” Mano cocked his head to the side and popped his neck, “Remember when we met last time? I told you I was curious to know what would happen if I found you without the suit?”

“I vaguely remember it.”

“Well,… let’s see.”

Mano kicked Michael in the chest, nearly sending him down the steps behind him. Michael caught the railing to stop the fall, but the wind was knocked out of him. There was a realization of how hard Mano could hit now that he no longer had the armor. Michael retaliated with a kick to Mano’s gut, forcing him toward the open door. With Mano stunned, Michael rushed forward, tackling him through doorway. They spilled into the hall and rolled toward an apartment. Mano sat up first and delivered a punch across Michael’s face. Michael trapped his arm, pulled him in close, and placed him in a BJJ hold. As he did so, the door to the apartment opened. An older woman stepped out and stared at the two men grappling on the floor.

Mano rolled with Michael, placing both of them in the doorway to the apartment; once there, he attempted his own hold, but Michael shoved a thumb in Mano’s eye to prevent him from completing the move. Mano screamed in agony and was forced to pull away. Both men shot to their feet and Mano slammed a knee into Michael’s chin. He stumbled into the apartment and cane to a stop in the living room. With his opponent stunned, Mano briefly turned to the old woman who was still in the hallway. The command was in Spanish, but Michael could tell he was warning the old woman to leave the area and call the police. Of course, the police were owned by Nadie, so it only made things worse for him.

Michael spun into a roundhouse kick, but Mano ducked under it and threw himself into Michael’s midsection. He lifted Michael onto his shoulder and carried him to the kitchenette, then slammed him into the kitchen-island. Michael placed his hands against the back of Mano’s head and delivered a hard knee to the face. Mano broke free and delivered a sharp upper cut to his chin.

Michael rolled back onto the surface of the kitchen-island, kicking Mano away in the process before falling onto the tile. Mano walked around the island to pursue his target, pausing only to consider the steak knife on the counter. Michael, meanwhile, turned toward the sink and took hold of a cast-iron pan. Mano brought the knife down, but Michael took a wild swing, deflecting the blade away from him. Mano kicked him in the chest again, slamming him against the sink in preparation for another stab. On the backswing, Michael caught Mano across the cheek with the pan. The knife clattered to the tile floor and Mano stumbled toward the stove. Michael gave a hard kick between the shoulder blades, throwing him face-first against the oven door; a bloody smear was left when Mano collapsed.

Michael’s head was pounding and he limped out of the apartment. Fights with Mano were always brutal and this was no acceptation. He questioned how successful he would have been if he wasn’t surrounded by improvised weapons. He needed his armor. He knew how to get it back, but he also knew Nadie’s cops were on their way. He normally welcomed the arrival of the police, but it was a problem for him this time.

He left the building and went out to the street. Pulling the scarf away from his face, he hoped to blend in with the crowd, although the bruises likely drew just as much attention. At that point, he was in no condition to hear the men approaching him from behind, not that he could’ve fought them off if he had been aware of them. One of the men clubbed him in the back of the head with a small baton and Michael instantly went down. A second later, his unconscious form was thrown into the trunk of a car and it sped away.

His world was dark…

When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was that he was tied to a chair. The only light source in the dark room was a single bulb hanging from a low ceiling. From what little he saw of the concrete walls and floor, he assumed he was in a basement. Soon, he heard whispers from the shadows. He expected to see Mano or possibly even Nadie emerging from the darkness but instead, he saw a lean but muscular bald man. Behind him, a few more men followed and their ski masks were instantly recognizable.

“La Respuesta,” Michael said aloud.

The bald man nodded, then countered with his own question, “What’s your name?”

“John Smith.”

“American?” the bald man asked.

“Yes.”

The next question was unexpected, “Are you CIA?”

Michael was confused. He thought he was kidnapped because they knew he was the Cavalier, not because they thought he was a CIA agent. It was curious they would ask that question since Ramona Sanchez was a liaison between La Respuesta and the CIA. They should’ve known who was or wasn’t an agent. Michael looked up at the bald man curiously, “Why do you ask?” The bald man said nothing and punched him across the face. Michael’s head rolled back and he spit some blood onto the dirty floor. “Doesn’t answer my question,” he muttered under his breath.

The bald man calmly wiped the blood from his knuckles, “There’ve been rumors for years that the CIA have had dealings in our nation. After the bombing in New York, they’ve supposedly ramped up surveillance.”

“You know it’s more than rumors,” Michael told him, “What does that have to do with me?”

“A masked man was seen fighting a Costa Tristen agent tonight. A woman in the building called the police. Apparently, the agent told her the masked man was an American criminal. Luckily, one of our men intercepted the call. You were the one in the mask, yes?”

“I was,” Michael complied.

“So are you CIA or not?”

“I’m not. You people work with Saffron already, so why don’t you talk to him.”

Another strange question came, “Who’s Saffron?”

Michael furrowed his brow, “The CIA operative running things here. One of your people answers to him.”

The bald man sneered, “You expect us to believe that someone in our organization works alongside the CIA?”

“Up until now, I thought it was something everyone knew.”

He gave Michael an incredulous look, “What’s this person’s name?”

“Ramona Sanchez,” Michael answered.

The bald man and the rest of the group gave wide-eyed stares. It was clear now, they had no idea Ramona was working both sides. He wondered what else she was hiding. The bald man leaned to one of the La Respuesta members and whispered something in his ear. There was a nod and his man quickly took his leave.

The bald man continued questioning Michael, “If you’re not CIA, what are you?”

“Let’s just say I have a personal vendetta against Nadie. I understand you do as well. The CIA intercepted me, unfortunately, so I’m not too fond of them, either.”

“I’ll need more than that.”

“I can’t give you much more information,” Michael looked at his surroundings for a moment before continuing, “But I can give you the CIA if you like.”

“Bullshit.”

“No, it’s true. They took something from me. I have an app on my phone that can track it… I assume someone here has it considering it was in my pocket when I got captured.”

One of the men handed Michael’s phone to the bald man. “What does this have to do with anything?” he asked.

“The item they stole from me has an air-tag that’s synched to my phone. If my theory checks out, that item is in their headquarters. We can use GPS to locate `em. I get my stuff back and you get to take out a group that’s been causing you more problems than you realized. What do you have to lose?”

The bald man stood silent, contemplating what to do next.

****

At Nadie’s villa, the old man sat peacefully, listening to a symphony play over the speakers. One of his men respectfully entered the room. “Sir, Mano encountered the Cavalier in the apartment complex. Our intel was correct.”

“Good,” Nadie answered, “Where is he now?”

“Unfortunately, he escaped. We know he’s without his armor at the moment and we have a fairly good idea of who to look for.”

“I want everyone we have on this,” Nadie instructed, “The knight was foolish enough to come here. He should face the full consequences of his actions. Tell General Barca to keep all eyes to the sky. If he sees the Cavalier’s hovercraft, he has my permission to send everything he can to that location.”

“Yes, sir.”

Nadie continued to listen to the symphony. The Cavalier had been a problem for some time, but as he was now in Costa Triste, Nadie was more confident. This was his country. He fought to be in this position, facing challenges he considered to be far greater. He would succeed, just as he had before. His mind drifted back to a much more dire situation…

When Nadie was younger and still a lieutenant in the cartel, his mentor, Roberto De La Vega, gave him some advice:

“Wanna know who the real gangsters are? Watch the politicians, mano. They lie, steal, and kill just like we do, only they’re worse. They get away with it.”

During the height of the Cold War, Costa Triste was an ally of the USSR and Cuba. This brought them into conflict with the US. The CIA worked behind the scenes to halt the spread of Communism throughout the world, often employing means that many would find alarming. After the collapse of the USSR, Costa Triste became capitalist and the US no longer felt they were a threat. Many years later, however, the Costa Tristen president and many members of the Senate considered moving away from the US dollar. Fearing a resurgence of Communism in South America, the CIA decided to act by staging a coup and setting up a new leader.

General José Zahino held extreme views, had aspirations to get into politics, and was supportive of the US. His men were very loyal to him, so a military takeover was attainable. Setting him up to take control was a simple matter of supplying him with adequate weaponry. In the coming years, there would be rumors that the weapons were created by the American “boy genius” Ryan Bennings. Whatever their origins were, the weapons were far beyond Costa Triste’s technology.

Zahino started by taking over a military base in the South. He and his men commandeered tanks and humvees, then rode toward the capital. As they cut a path through the country, several buildings were destroyed, including schools and hospitals. Some politicians and military personnel supported Zahino and helped him. Others saw the writing on the wall and supported him out of fear. Everyone else was soon killed or forced to flee the country.

At this point, Roberto De La Vega was an old man and Nadie was approaching middle age. With the high tech weapons Zahino’s men used, it was only a matter of time before they overthrew the government. Nadie and De La Vega controlled the largest cartel in the country and knew they would be an eventual target as Zahino was paranoid toward anyone who had any amount of power or wealth.

“I’m gonna send you to Venezuela, mano,” De La Vega told him.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like our chances here. I have some cousins in Venezuela and you’ll stay with them for a while. Now, don’t argue. I know how you can always convince people to do what you want, but I’m putting my foot down this time.”

“What am I supposed to do in Venezuela?”

“Survive.”

“I don’t want to leave you alone.”

De La Vega placed a hand on his shoulder, “Mano, I want you to know something… you’re the most dangerous man in this country. I’m not just saying that. I’ve known it for a long time and I know that, somehow, you’ve missed it all these years. If anyone is gonna save our asses here, it’s you. But first, you gotta lay low for a while. Come back stronger.”

Nadie didn’t understand why De La Vega considered him so dangerous, but he did as he was told and spent nearly a year in Venezuela. De La Vega’s cousins had a vineyard there and bottled their own wine, which interested him, although he still worried. He wrote Sister Mary Catalina who assured him the church was safe, but she still feared Zahino’s takeover. Nadie claimed he was out of the country on business, still hiding his connections to the cartels. As for De La Vega, he stopped hearing from him after some time.

Word soon came that the president of Costa Triste had been captured and held on trial. Everyone knew there was no real crime committed. It was all for show. The president was killed via firing squad along with several Senators and military leaders. What came next was a purge. Zahino gave clear orders to the Secret Police. Not only did they go after the cartels, but they also went after political dissidents, members of all political parties, judges, and any journalists who stood against him. Costa Triste’s government was never known to be particularly democratic, but they now had a dictator. Nadie was finished hiding and had De La Vega’s cousins return him to Costa Triste.

Upon landing at a private airfield, he noticed the usual car wasn’t waiting for him, so he got on a train and traveled back to Venti Santos. When he came to De La Vega’s penthouse, he noticed it was swarming with soldiers. He was on the outside of the gate and was sure he wasn’t spotted; he tried to leave as soon as possible, but a gloved hand clasped down on his shoulder. He had no means of escape and was brought to jail. The soldiers never said anything, but they all seemed to know who he was. He surmised they had been looking for him for a while and it was likely he would be put to death. It was a surprise when he was transported to the capital and taken to the central base as there seemed to be little point in it. Once he was brought on base, he was brought into an underground tunnel. When he was taken to a storage room, he noticed a large freezer plugged into the wall. The next thing he noticed was General Zahino. He still wore a military uniform, but preferred to be called President; it all seemed so ridiculous.

“Hello,… Nadie is it?” Zahino extended a large hand and pressed it firmly against his frail palm, “The brains behind the De La Vega cartel, huh? You’ve been gone for a while. We honestly wondered if you were dead, so imagine our surprise when you showed up at your old friend’s house.” He shook his head, “Wait, where are my manners? The two of you deserve a reunion. Would you like to see Roberto?”

“Is he here?” Nadie asked.

“Of course, he’s here.”

Zahino motioned toward one of his men and the freezer was opened. As it had a horizontal lid and Nadie was confined to a wheelchair, he couldn’t see what was inside. Zahino wasted no time and two of his men roughly lifted Nadie out of his wheelchair forcing him to look inside. De La Vega’s frozen face stared up at him – frost covering wide eyes and an agape jaw. Below the head was the rest of the body, as far as he could tell. He could see a left hand. A leg was under it. To one side of the freezer, he could scarcely make out part of the torso. From his position, he could identify some of the organs scattered about as well. Nadie gasped at the horror, unable to hide his emotions. The men gently lowered him back to his wheelchair and he hung his head.

“I cleaned up this country,” Zahino said proudly. “Part of that clean-up process involved taking down the cartels once and for all. Roberto De La Vega was one of the last and fought a good fight, I’ll give him that. The old man was tough. They said that, even when he was being chopped up, he didn’t cry. He didn’t beg. You should be happy to know he went out like a man. From what little I know about you, some of the guys in the cartel grew up with you, right? They were street kids from up North if I’m not mistaken. At any rate, I’m sure they’re all dead. You’re all that’s left.”

“And I suppose I’m next,” Nadie said, his head still hung.

“Actually, no. I know you were just the money man. Your main task was running those big, fancy charities. In fact, I actually went to one of them a few years back. You seemed like a nice guy. Quiet. Didn’t even have a name to call yourself. I assume you stayed with the cartel because there was nothing else for you out there. Despite all appearances, I feel sorry for guys like you. I can’t kill you.” He smiled and gave Nadie a pat on the back that seemed a bit too rough, “And besides, having you running charities again makes me look good. I don’t have to care about public opinion, but I’m getting tired of these damned terrorist attacks. Maybe if they see I’m not such a bad guy, things will calm down a little.”

“I’m…,” Nadie began, “… Working for you?”

“I’ll give you a villa on the coast. You’re a smart guy. I’m sure you won’t embarrass me,” Zahino leaned in, “It’s better than living on the street. You’re way too old to go back to that orphanage… You remember that place, don’t ya? What was the name of that really nice nun who used to take care of you? I can’t recall at the moment, but if you screw me on this… the Secret Police might declare her a terrorist. You know what happens to terrorists, right?”

Nadie was silent.

Suddenly, Zahino burst into laughter, “I’m just joking, relax. I know I don’t have to make threats,” he reached put and patted Nadie’s cheek, “You’re harmless.”

Continued…