Hero Be Damned Ch. 03

The story was rejected the first time I put it through, possibly because I put some stuff in there that was just too gross. So I've taken that out. It's all the better for it to be honest. I also had a lot of stuff going on hence why I haven't written anything. But, I've taken it back up, so here I am, submitting my latest chapter in this storyline. Two more chapters to go, maybe three, then this story will be finished. Thanks for your patience people... enjoy!

===========================

Through this whole thing, this whole charade of who I am, who I want to be, who I want to hide from being. Something was lost. Something was left unfinished in me. Not something out there in the physical world, something inside me that remains unchecked, unattended. I didn't take much time to think about it, god knows I couldn't bring myself to. And yet it was the most important thing of all.

It might sound unusual. I carry my family with me. Two metal containers, etched with their names, in my backpack. Sealed shut, airtight as such, their ashes inside. They were cremated, I couldn't bring myself to scatter them in the city anywhere, and after a while, I couldn't bring myself to scatter them anywhere. I think it seems more appropriate to find somewhere peaceful, when I'm in a position mentally, emotionally and physically ready to do so, then, when I'm finally ready, it will be done...

And now here I sat, Roger was looking at me, my eyes sore with tears, red and puffy, my ears warm, my nose running, my lips pulled back, straining at my teeth, trying to hold back the whimpers and cries. My hands came up, cupping my mouth and nose, my fingertips stopping short at my eyes. I tried to regain composure to talk to him.

"How old were they..."

"He was three. She was twenty nine." I strained the words out, almost between my teeth, they were painful to speak.

"Young. Too young to die. I can't say any words that will magically fix things. That never happens. It's not like a tv show where someone dies one week then the next shit moves on. Things will be fucked up for ages. And they don't get 'better'. They get 'different', they get 'tolerable' I suppose would be a better word to use."

Roger finished speaking, looking at me. He opened his mouth again, his eyes fallen, sympathy behind every word, "It sounds harsh I know, and it sounds like a bastard of a thing to say, but it's the truth. You'll never forget them, you'll never lose them from your heart, and one day, you'll be with them again. But you damn well make sure you join them under your terms, not under someone else's."

I looked at Roger, those words weren't expected. I guess I thought that he would come out with something different. Relief I suppose, washed over me, knowing he was a straight shooter when it came to talking helped a lot.

"I was Shade. I used to look after Castor City until I went into forced retirement. Actually that's not true. With what I intend to do, I can't justify calling myself a hero."

Roger looked at me nodding slightly. "You're the guy whose family got killed by Kavork aren't you..."

I nodded, looking at him, I opened my mouth to speak but nothing would come forth, nothing intelligible, all that came out was a low moan of sorrow, one that captured my feelings, more than anything could. My head fell, my shoulders followed, my forehead hitting my hands on the table, cupping my face.

Tears sprang from my eyes, my nose ran. "I miss them." I cried openly. "God I miss them and I need them and I'm never going to see them again and it's all my goddamn fault!!"

===============================================

I stood in the hallway looking at Calebs door. The door seemed like the final step between sanity and insanity. A six foot high symbol of what's left in my life, go through and be changed, stay here and remain as I am, possibly capture what left of my life and use it as best I can. If I go through, nothing's going to protect Kavork from me if he's in there. Nothing. My soul is nearly broken, I'll make his body match that. I'll do much worse. God help the son of a bitch.

So I knocked. Something smashed in the kitchen, a cup or plate or something, it sounded like it was thrown. I heard another, then a giant crash of multiple objects. Then, a strange gurgling sound. Something smelt, something wasn't right. And where the hell was that smell coming from??? This was no time to be cautious.

If I'd been inside, I would've screamed as the door blew off its hinges and flew across the room. Benefits of extreme leg strength I suppose. But that bastard flew, it lodged itself partly through the window on the other side and partly in the wall itself as it splintered. I ran in, looking around.

The blood slick on the floor started in the loungeroom. It went in a two foot smear towards the tiled kitched where it pooled over the floor. The thick stench of shit and blood enveloped the room. I walked slowly to the kitchen, fists at the ready, eyes wider than the largest saucers you'd ever find.

And that's where I found Caleb. Sitting on the ground, naked, his stomach sliced open, from his balls to his chest, skin flaps pulled back across his chest, his ribs showing under the fatty meat. His intestines pulled out and resting partially on his lap, the pinky purpleish red of them standing out starkly on his bare white legs. also wrapped around his neck and hands.

My breathing turned to hyperventilation. I grabbed a plastic bag from the counter, turning away from the sight, breathing into it, returning to normal. My head racing with images, not willing to even allow myself to register it.

I turned to him again, my breathing having slowed down immensely. My eyes arched as I tried to control my emotions. I bit my tongue so hard it bled, the copper rich taste of the ichor spreading in my mouth. I squinted my eyes so hard to stop from crying I swear I must've bruised the eyelids.

I hit the counter top repeatedly, buckling it under my fist as it smashed, splintering it into bits. Screaming, my voice carrying through the streets down below. My cries of anger shredding the courage of the gods above. Falling to my knees I looked at him, my head tilted, my mouth open, tears pouring from my eyes.

Then I noticed he was holding a bag. Maybe, holding a bag, might be the wrong word. It was taped to his hand. I opened it, tearing the plastic apart like it were paper, pulling out a dvd. "Play my fucker" was written on it.

I walked away from the corpse of my best friend, I didn't touch it, I don't want the police to have to worry about that much, there's nothing I can do for him now.

The dvd slid into the player and Kavorks face filled the screen.

"So, now you ask why I killed Caleb? I'm a sick fuck. I mean in my own mind it's justified. That bastard, you handed me to him so many times. Had me arrested. When I found out he was your source , well, I just had to make sure I took my sweet time with him. John, do you know what I did? I cut a hole, about six inches deep in his belly. Then, I shoved a piece of aluminium in there, bent it like a hook. And I pulled those insides outside! Originally I was going to let him survive. Originally. But alas, it wasn't meant to be. It turned out too hard, so I opened him up, gutted him like a whiting on a fishing trip. And holy shit did he scream. Didn't help him much though, taped a towel to his mouth. That muffled it. Pulling those intestines out though, that's not easy work man, that's some hard shit! Well, that's what came out when I pulled too hard with the hook hahaha!! So, we ended up seeing what old Caleb was made of didn't we. Just like your wife and kid John. So who's next? Hell I don't know. Did you really think I was going to give myself up to you straight away??? Fuck no. You ruined my life John. And I'm going to ruin you... We'll meet again soon John, don't you worry about that. We'll meet again soon, and when we do, then you'll get to do something, but until then, I wonder who's next? This is gonna be interesting. Or have I done something already? We'll see soon I guess!!"

==============================================

Raising my head from the table I looked at Roger, l pursed my lips, controlling my tears finally.

"He killed your wife, child and friend. Did he kill anyone else?" Roger looked at me quizzically.

"No. Nearly but no. He tried though. God knows he tried. But that wasn't for a long time after."

"This Kavork, I haven't heard of him before. What's he look like?" Roger enquired, I guess this was something that'd help him envisage what the guy looked like.

"You ever seen Prisonbreak?"

"Yeah, good show. Why?"

"The guy in the second season, the demented guy who jumps off a tower. He's got these crazy eyes."

"Yeah I know the guy, he was in my Name is Earl as well."

"Yeah him, think long blonde dyed hair, crazy eyes and a black goatee. Always, always wearing a brown leather jacket and workers overalls kinda like the sort you'd see in a garage. Oh, and his lips are weird."

"How are they weird? What's wrong with his lips, are we talking weird like that Joker guy in that Batman movie... you know I didn't like that one much? Much preferred the old ones from the 60s myself... Cesar Romero... much better... sorry anyhow... sorry..."

"Yeah, anyhow... He has none. They were cut off when he was younger. He grew up in Croatia, according to him, and claims they were cut off for raping a girl or something. It looks weird. His face, you can just see sort of, skin, then teeth. He carries around a water bottle all the time with him, always wetting his mouth. Dribbles like a motherfucker too... sorry pardon the french."

"Jesus Christ," Roger muttered "That's awful."

" He dropped out of communication after Calebs place. I showed the police commissioner the tape. I revealed who I was. It didn't go public, it stopped there. Covered up as it were. The cops appreciated what I had done for them, an honour amongst friends kind of thing. So that never got out, who I was, not that I gave a shit. So approximately only four people know now. I didn't go back to my place for around three months. I stayed in hotels, motels, everywhere. I tried to patrol a few times, but I couldn't. My mind was in a bad place. God knows what would've happened if I caught someone doing something wrong. You know that the cartoons show us fighting crime all the time? It's not like that. Maybe once a week, or a fortnight, you'll stop an assault, once every three to four weeks a major crime. Hell, sometimes it's months. It seemed pointless after a while. So I stopped. I kept looking for Kavork though. I eventually found out he'd left the country and was in parts unknown. Dunno. Then out of the blue one day, he stole a baby from the hospital. A new born. He was back and he took a fucking baby hostage. Because he wanted to see me. A fucking baby and took him to the abattoir."

*****

(To be continued... and this time without a 2 year wait I swear to god :)