Any units in the vicinity, we've got a 10-31 on Lundgren. I repeat, we've got a 10-31 on Lundgren. Suspects are perceived to be donning an assortment of suspicious attire, including clown and animal masks, and are considered armed and dangerous. Any available units, please respond as we are requesting backup immediately."
As Lt. Hughes and the attractive-looking detective riding with him listened to the dispatch on the radio, they each shared a look of concern. Ever since that chance encounter with the annoying writer, those press types could be as vexing as mosquitoes, the two have been on edge with suspicions that something sinister or calamitous was going to occur. They had received a tip off on a case they were partnered up on and another incident had derailed their lead for the time being. Sighing, Hughes gripped the steering wheel tightly as he glanced ahead at the grayish twilight, the horizon tinged with the dark velvet of the sunset. The streetlights were the only source of lighting on the gloomy road the two investigators were taking to their destination.
"I suppose Okoye's tip will have to go on the backburner for the time being. We are going to have to take care of this. I had a feeling something would go down today."
Detective Tan only nodded and stared out the window. "I can't argue with that. I sense that the wretched presshound is somehow connected to it. You think her behavior at the station was enough to warrant suspicion? "
"I do now that you mention it." Lt. Hughes pulled a U-turn, coming close to the fence of a nearby ranch house, as he sped down the sparsely traveled road. "We will investigate the hackette and her intentions once we take care of this issue."
---
"Sir, everything is in order. We are set to proceed with your ploy. "
"Excellent." Agony, seated in his mahogany chair in the Syndicate quarters, folded his hands as he watched one of his henchmen, a man named Tom, through his silver Ipad. The strongman was seated in the driver's seat of a Rolls Royce van with his partner Louis beside him. "Have the officers who've been paid off leave on some sort of 'errand' or 'distress call'?"
Tom, a dark-haired man in his early thirties, nodded. "Affirmative. I can see them zoom off in their squad cars. Those who had refused the offer you sent me and Louis to deliver have remained behind."
The British crime lord chuckled as he intertwined his fingers.
"That's quite unfortunate-for them, that is. They will serve as the casualties on the vigilante's depraved attack on Oakville station. Excellent work, you two. Greenlight the attack."
"At once, sir!"
As soon as the connection was severed, Agony glanced over at his personal aide, flanked by two armed guards in flak jackets. He motioned over to her to come over to him.
"Celeste, would you be a dear and advise me if the diversion has been initiated?"
His hazel-eyed assistant nodded in affirmation. "Yes, Brutus and his guys have begun their attack."
"Excellent." The British crime shark intertwined his fingers. " Our person of interest, the nightly news, nor the law enforcement that refused our stimulus proposition will be any wiser to the real purpose of this attack. They can broadcast it for all of Oakville, but once the event that is much more newsworthy surfaces the next morning, the term breaking news will take on a more material air. Now, for the last request of the night before I turn, I request you bring out my recently acquired bottle of Sweet and Spicy Benedictine. Our upcoming triumph calls for it."
---
"Hello, who's there?"
The officer, a rookie on the force, was standing guard outside the station when he thought he saw a shape outlined in the dim orange lamplight of the early evening approach him. Under the dreary atmosphere of the few silvery clouds, the officer could make out the 6 foot tall form of a man clad in military gear, complete with dogtags and a dark trenchcoat, whose face was encased in a gas mask with eyeholes glowing like the brightest street lamps on Ennis Lane. His eyes grew wide upon shining his flashlight on the ominous figure.
"P-Poison Gas, what are you doing here? Let me tell you that I am a big fan of what you do. Just don't tell the others, especially the chief. He dislikes you a lot, calls you a deranged Vindicator Joe. Hey, what are you going to do with tha-"
The rookie was silenced with a machete buried in his head. Once the ominous figure yanked out the weapon, coated with blood and gore, he glanced to his right and left before motioned with his hands for his colleagues to proceed. A white-faced figure shrouded in a black cloak, followed by a figure donning a purple demon mask, filed inside the station, the lights spilling onto the stairs, adding color to the dreary mood as they entered.
"Who the fu-" the voice from the lobby was cut off by a howl of pain that reminded the figure of a dying dog. Perceiving the dying admin officer's shouts as the signal to play his part in the assault on the station, the gas-masked shifter made his way up the stairs and into the brightly lit lobby as bullets started to fly at him. It was time to shine.
---
"Holy crap, would you look at that? It's a full-scale raid on the Federal Stack House!"
Anthony Wheeler glanced back at his friends as he leaned against the royal blue mailbox, watching the government site take a full on strike from armed terrorists wearing animal and clown masks. On the other side of the wall of the office building, Sandro and Nick managed to take a peek at the black unmarked vans that blocked the entrance to the parking lot of the Stack House while Joe was pressed against the oak tree across from them. While their view wasn't as good as Tony's, they could confirm that what he told them was correct based on the staccato of the gunfire and the shouts. An occasional orange or yellow flash would spark up and cracking or booming sounds would travel through the early evening air. As Anthony motioned for them to move closer for a better view, Sandro couldn't help feeling a bit of nervous excitement coursing through his veins.
Could he finally show up?
"The Feds and the cops are outnumbered," Joe observed the gunfight.
Tony gave him a lopsided look. "Gee, you think?" He then faced Sandro. "Wasn't this your bright idea to get close to something like this going down? Where is your guy now? "
"I thought he was attracted to criminal activities like fly to dung?" Nate concurred, nodding.
Before the teen fanboy could contradict their doubts, the engines of a Harley roared through the night like a tiger, drowning out the sounds of the gun battle. Turning their heads down Lundgren Road, the four boys were greeted by the sight of a gas-masked man dressed in a dark military-grade trenchcoat and a gray-green World War 2 helmet riding his motorcycle up to the battlezone and use the elevated slope near the entrance to fly over the black vans to join the clash between law enforcement and the masked assailants. As the gunfire ceased upon the vigilante's entrance, Sandro's friends glanced over at him with looks of astonishment.
The peacemaker's admirer could barely suppress her smile. "I told you he was something."
"Hold your horse, buddy," Nick stated, his grayish eyes fixed upon the Federal site. "We still need to see him kick goombah asses. Yeah, I know those gunmen belong to the Syndicate."
"Well, why don't one of y'all take out your phone and record this instead of yapping," Tony suggested. "It isn't everyday you get to see a Punisher or Ghost Rider wannabe cap some mobsters."
Joe got his phone ready. "You don't need to tell me twice."
Loud pops like miniature fire crackers went off as a tendrils of light gray clouds started to engulf the masked men's vans. Initial shouts of confusion were heard before they evolved into screams of pain and terror. In a matter of minutes, the gas-masked rider, his eyeholes glowing a sickly green, leapt through the fog like a horseman of the apocalypse and zoomed down the street. He tossed a small ball-like object under the vans and soon lit them up like beacons of flame to herald is departure.
God dayum! Badass as always.
"Bro, move!"
Sandro was pulled out of his trance by Tony as Poison Gas rode past them on the sidewalk and turned into a side street. He turned to glance at his three pals, smiling as if he had a good night with a woman. His eyes then went to Joe's phone, which was encased in a Bart Simpson cover.
"Did you get it all on tape?"
"Are you seriously asking that after nearly getting rundown by that militaristic punisher?" Nick frowned.
"He didn't intend to run me down," Sandro responded. "He needed to make a quick getaway."
Joe only shook his head and smiled. "I doubt he'd have paid more attention to you than we do to flies."
Sandro's phone rang and seeing his mom's name on the caller ID, he answered. "Hi mom. Yeah, I am with the boys. Yeah, I'll be home soon. Love you. Bye!"
As he hung up, he glanced over at the building where the Federal Archives were held to see that the smoke screen had cleared, leaving a wake of destruction consisting of a flotsam of burning metal and corpses lying like broken dolls. Sandro then turned to his pals and smiled.
"What did I tell you boys? I knew he would not let t-"
"Yeah, we know," Joe muttered. "What I don't understand is that why would mob gunmen target a government archive as opposed to a bank or an arms depot? This doesn't make sense."
"Who cares?" Sandro threw his arms in the air. "We need to upload that video to Youtube. We will become famous overnight as being the only students of Lee High encountering Oakville's own defender."
---
"Oh my lord, what's happened here?"
As Hughes and Tan pulled up before the lot in which they received the distress call, the sight of burning vehicles and fallen combatants greeted their eyes. Parking the gray unmarked police vehicle, the officer and the sleuth hurried out to investigate what remained of the incident. After a cursory glance on the blood-stained pavement, the two had noticed that around 92% of the broken bodies littering the floor belonged to the masked assailants. Another thing a quick survey of the area revealed not only that the white and gray building that was the target of the assault was untouched, but there were also skid marks on the asphalt.
Hughes turned to his sleuth partner and nodded. "No doubt about it. This was the work of our gas-masked friend. "
"I can't disagree with you on that one, " Detective Tan affirmed. "Yes, the castigator has our gratitude for preventing any further deaths of law enforcement, but something seems off. What was the motive for these gunmen, I won't doubt that they are associated with the Syndicate, for striking a government building? What interest could a few government dossiers have for the crime lords?"
"Your guess is as good as mine, but they really gave my agents an intense firefight despite not actually relegating the onslaught to the I would assume that this was a minor strike force sent to gouge our strength so they can prepare for a future incursion. For all we know, it could be on its way now."
The two law enforcement officers turned to see a youthful-looking man with a smooth face and dark brown hair tied back into a ponytail under a royal blue cap with FBI written in yellow letters. His flak jacket, with white letters spelling out SECURITY, was smudged with soot, smoke, and a couple bullet tears, signified that he was just involved in the intense firefight with the masked assailants. Clearing his throat, the Fed proceeded to introduce himself.
"Special Agent Travis Eckart. I oversee the security of our Oakville archive center."
"Detective Amy Tan," the Oakville sleuth introduced herself. Her accompanying officer joined in as well.
"Lieutenant Aaron Hughes. So when do you suppose those Syndicate mobsters, assuming that's who they are according to their M.O., would return for a second try? The question isn't if, but when. "
Tan crossed his arms. "What could the state's biggest organized crime cartel want with Federals information?"
Before anyone could respond, Hughes's radio beeped. The police lieutenant immediately answered.
"Lt.Hughes, 10-62 here."
Amid gunfire and shouts, a voice crackled through. "All available units, please respond! The station is under attack! I have identified one of the assailants is closing in on me! He was wearing a military-grade respirator with eyes glowing like something from radioactive waste." Two loud firecracker sounds were heard distinctly. "Oh my god! We just lost two more defenders! Requesting backup! Please respond! Aaah!"
As the radio went silent, the trio shared looks of concern. Agent Eckart offered his conjecture.
"I think that was that was the attack the masked militants were planning. Only this may have been the diversion."
Detective Tan frowned. "That officer calling for reinforcements stated seeing a man in a gas mask, similar to the one who slaughtered all the gunmen you see here. As you can see, they wore mostly animal or Halloween masks. Perhaps this attack isn't connected to the storming of the Police Station. "
"We can worry about details later!" Hughes urged them to head out. "Let's go aid our brothers and sisters under fire."
---
Quite a day's work.
Alex was riding home after taking out those thugs who were attacking the federal building , staring into the orange and magenta outline in the horizon where the setting sun lit the dark clouds. Before crashing the gun battle between the Feds and the suspected Syndicate operatives, Poison Gas had broken up a drug trafficking ring operating out of a church, something he had suspected for a while, as well as catching human traffickers in the act. Nothing made him feel fulfilled like the thrill of purging the scum of society.
"Requesting backup! The station is under attack! We-aah!"
Alex froze as his headset radio intercepted the plea for assistance at the police station.
This night is getting more zesty by the second.
Turning his bike around, the dark vigilante sped toward Oakville PD, eager to take out more Syndicate thugs.
---
"Peekaboo! I kill you."
Sam, wearing the attire of Poison Gas, aimed his double-barrel shotgun at the officer standing before the chief's office and fired, resulting in the lawman's upper torso spraying blood as he fell against the wall, soiling it with his innards. As he narrowed in on the chief's room, his microphone came live and Tom spoke up.
"Our boy has just arrived. Make sure one of you has planted that Celtic dagger and let's get the hell outta dodge!"
Swerving his gas-masked face to glance at his two companions, Shifty noticed Reaper give the thumbs up and Ghoul nod his head , indicating that the objective was complete. As soon as the silhouette of the real masked vigilante arrived, Sam and the rest of Agony's top terminators hurried toward the end of the hallway. Sam shifted into a small green Wyvern with glowing yellow eyes and set fire to the entire vicinity to give the meddler something to thing about. Ramming through the window, raining shattered glass like hail, the trio landed onto the concrete below and made it to the van. Once inside, he shifted back to his true form as Josef drove off.
He then glanced back to where Gwen sat between Louis and Tom. "Did you get the picture?"
The University sweater-clad journalist nodded as she showed her phone. "It's right here. Once they see him hold the dagger, they will not question the picture of you clutching it. Speaking of which, the cops are right on time."
The sirens screamed as the early night was lit by red and blue flashes as the cops arrived.
"Time to bust outta here!" Louis scratched his faded head. "Call the bossman and tell him the deal is sealed."
"With pleasure!"
Josef gunned the gas pedal of the white Rolls Royce and sped out of there.
---
Who were those masked fellas? Were they elite hitmen for the Syndicate? Was one dressed like me? Moreover, where did that fire-breathing reptilian come from?
Blinking his eyes and wiping the lenses of his respirator, Poison Gas glanced around the blazing building to see the broken and bleeding bodies of cops on the floor as the fires raged on and smoke filled the atmosphere. A few bodies, still conscious, moaned or twitched, as Poison Gas walked down the hall, glancing into the aisles to assess the damage and to get a better grip on the attacker's motives. A glistening object by the table caught his eye. Curious, he went over to the silvery crescent-shaped object and picked it up, bringing it close to his face.
What in the world is this thing? Some kind of ceremonial dagger? Is it stained with the blood of one of the officer's?
Oakville's avenger examined the dagger, which glinted silver in the hazy light where vermillion didn't engulf it. Most likely it was used by the assassins, but this thing didn't resemble typical mafioso weaponry. Hearing sirens, Poison Gas turned to see several cops flood into the disheveled station and raise their weapons. Realizing that he was holding possible incriminating evidence, Gas quickly dropped it and prepared a smokescreen to cover his escape.
"Freeze!"
No sooner had the officer said it, the smoke cleared and the gas-masked shadow had vanished. Most likely out the window and into the rising night.
---
"We have dozens of casualties, some critical, and the place is ablaze. We weren't able to catch the perps, but one of my men were able to ID one."
Tan and Hughes watched as the Fed agent Eckart showed them a grainy photo of a gas-masked figure clutching what looked like a bloody curved dagger.
"We'd recovered the weapon, you know." The special agent nodded at the forensics team exiting the smoking building with the dagger in a plastic container as the firefighters worked on putting out the blaze inside. "It looks like the one the bugger in the picture is holding, though I am not sure who uploaded this picture onto a news site. Perhaps it was one of the guy's accomplices or some social media hack or journo who wanted to gain some clout for taking pictures of a killer who slaughtered several cops."
Tan and Hughes furrowed their brows as they examined the picture before sharing glances.
"I don't understand," Hughes spoke. "The gas-masked dude had just taken out Syndicate guns at the Federal building yet he makes his way here to storm a police station and massacre a lot of law enforcement personnel. The question is why though?"
"None of it adds up," Eckart added. "It's like what's the motive behind taking out mafia goons and relieve security forces only to attack them not even an hour later? Perhaps him slaying mafiosos was for his own self-serving purposes and he continued on at the station to satisfy his thrill kill rush."
"Or he mistakenly presumed that all of Oakville PD was corrupt and thought he was clearing house since not all units responded to the signal to evacuate?" Hughes suggested.
Detective Tan crossed her arms. "Then we will find out from him ourselves once we capture him. I will personally be in charge of the interrogation. Perhaps the intrusive freelancer is somehow connected to him so we will include her in our search. " The sleuth's dark cat-like eyes flitted between the police lieutenant and the Federal Agent. "Are we in agreement?"
After a few seconds of awkward silence, Agent Eckart replied.
"I suppose there is no other choice if we want to get to the bottom of this. To be fair, I am hoping this is all some misunderstanding as I supported Poison Gas taking out the scum of society and making our job's easier for us."
---
As soon as Eminem's "Not Afraid" song played, Sandro's eye shot open. Groaning, he rose and shook his head to clear the grogginess. Glancing at the caller ID, he notice it was Tony and answered.
"What? Is it already time for school? It is barely 6 am."
"Yeah, you might want to check the news. Your peacemaker buddy is on it."
His eyes widening and his grogginess dissipating, Sandro reached for the remote and fumbled for the power button for a second or two before turning the channel to the local news. Sure enough, the headline read Massacre at Oakville Police Department in red font as the anchorwoman spoke.
"From what we know, casualties in the most brazen attack are in the dozens. While it is unclear what group was responsible, we have this grainy footage of an individual wearing a respirator and a military garments who appears to be Oakville's shadowy protector Poison Gas. Praised by the thousands of the city's denizens for drastically lowering the crime rate, he is now a person of interest for this detestable assault of Oakville's finest. "
A somewhat pixelated shape of Poison Gas hung over the top right of the screen as the presenter continued informing the viewers about the suspect while teenager's eyes widened in shock and disbelief at seeing his hero being vilified on over the air television.
"Holy Toledo, this can't be happening. Surely, there is a mistake. Some goombah lowlife might have dressed as him and framed him for the police department assault. There has to be an explanation for this as Gas would never kill cops unless they were corrupt."
"And how would you know that?" Tony responded.
"Because I know him," Sandro said as he held the phone to his ear. "I will clear his name as a token of my gratitude for his efforts in cleaning up this sewer we call a city."
"How do you intend to do that, genius?"
"I will find a way," the vigilante's most ardent admirer assured his friend. "Just give me some time."
"Alessandro, come eat your breakfast and head to school!" His mom called. "You know it is the most important meal of the day."
"I'll call you back."
With that, he hung up and headed to the kitchen, the gears of his mind working to make sense of how he'd repay his idol by vindicating him. Perhaps some breakfast would help him brainstorm and plan this recourse of action more efficiently.
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