Chapter Two - The Beast

Darkness

This was a side of the jungle that Jim wasn't very comfortable with - even knowing this was a dream. He'd been having the same dream for the last three nights. He was aware that he was alone in the jungle, but also that he was NOT alone. Something was keeping just outside the range of his senses, and it was stalking him. He strained to see in the pitch dark of this dense copse, but all he could make out was more darkness. He listened intently, hoping to glean some hint of the danger that he knew stalked the fringes of his perception. Three days of this helplessness was starting to get to him, and Blair was of little help as this 'Dark Angel' stacked up bodies like cordwood in the badlands of Cascade. Seventeen victims killed barehanded in ways that would make Torquemada flinch...

"Hello, my intended...," echoed a voice from the shadows.

"Show yourself!" demanded Jim angrily. "Where are you?"

"EVERYWHERE..."

"No! You're just some sick bastard that thinks he can take the law in his own hands..."

"Heh. The Law? It is to laugh...," mocked the voice. "Justice is what WE fight for, little brother... You fight for the Law, do you? You fool. You blind child... You waste your talents in the service of an empty ideal... The Law... Whose Law? Yours?'

"The laws of the United States of America," stated Jim flatly.

"Imbecile. Deluded infant... You stand for rules that serve the scum more than those that you SHOULD protect. Don't you ever question your 'superiors'? Do you believe that maintaining the course is wise even when you can't HELP but see the iceberg in your path? You risk your life for a facade... Protect and Serve? You protect NO ONE. You serve NOTHING. You are impotent BECAUSE of the Law you foolishly worship like a golden calf. We serve JUSTICE. JUSTICE is REAL. For all sin there is a PRICE, and we see that it is PAID..."

"Oh yeah? Isn't murder a sin? What price for THAT, bright boy?"

"Heh. Murder you say? Not so... Do we weep for the roaches when the exterminator comes? No, clearly not.. Rather, we rejoice that the vermin are culled, and the tide has turned... We can proceed safe in the knowledge that there is a way to counter the invasion... If we but had COURAGE..."

"Bullshit! Those people had RIGHTS..."

"Rights? Those 'people' are CANCER. Eating their OWN. Society cannot function when it is rotting from WITHIN... It is up to us all to seek out the cancer and REMOVE it before it spreads... But your Law prevents that...

You somehow feel that if we meet force with COMPASSION that we are somehow BETTER than the scum that plague us... Idiocy! You heap protection upon these traitors to their own to stoke the pyre of your illusion of SOCIETY...

Heh. These 'protections' serve to show others that there is no retribution, and you are helpless to stem the tide as others walk the same path... Others, and MORE others with each passing year... Your jails fill, and you build MORE - thereby perpetuating the farce... It's not a perpetual motion, little brother... It's a DOWNWARD SPIRAL... For all the jails, and all the rules, have you TRULY made a difference? Is evil driven out? Hardly."

"It's not that simple!" protested Jim angrily. "It's not just right OR wrong - not just black OR white..."

"It has ALWAYS been that simple," retorted the voice. "You just lost your STOMACH for it... So you have your pretty little 'shades of grey' to COMFORT you as the enemies gain more and more ground... BAH! You're pathetic... Evil can not create Good any moreso than you can grow cabbage in a coalmine... Diametric opposition has no yield but CONFLICT, and nobody has the BACKBONE to stay in the FIGHT... When one side RETIRES, the other wins by DEFAULT..."

"No... You're wrong... I..," began Jim...

"You NOTHING. All you do is clean up the after-effects like a JANITOR... You pick up the pieces only to pick up more the NEXT day... You pack the prisons like trash in a landfill, but it's no moreso a solution... There is only ONE true deterrent to evil... FEAR. You've given up your power, and so evil no longer FEARS you, and does as it pleases... But WE will make them fear again..."

"Nobody gave you that authority. You can't be judge, jury and executioner..."

"GAVE us the authority? Nobody WANTED it, little brother... So we TOOK it... And see how much good we've done? Seventeen roaches so far, and more to follow until they no longer have the courage to continue their evil ways... The flow recedes even now as more become aware of the true PRICE of sin... Soon it will CEASE, and isn't THAT what we want?"

"No... Not like that..."

"HOW THEN?! All your years in servitude and what benefit? Your cause is hopeless from the START... You cannot fight fire with STRAW... You must EXTINGUISH it... It won't see the error of it's ways... It won't burn itself out until it's consumed EVERYTHING... What then? Would you fan the flames or fight while there's still something to SAVE?"

"You have to be stopped," whispered Jim hoarsely.

"Stopped? You cannot stop me. You haven't the strength OR the will... You'd be destroyed... You hold yourself back like a dog on a chain... A pet dog can not defeat a wolf... How moreso for a you against such as I? Mark well, little brother... We warn you for your own sake... You cannot learn from us if you force us to kill you..."

"I can learn nothing from you!" screamed Ellison angrily.

"But you already have, little brother," replied the voice from the Darkness.

"What?"

"You're welcome... See you SOON..."

Ellison sat upright in bed. Angry heat flushed across his face as he wiped his brow of moisture... Bad enough this psychopath was playing the whole department for saps while he massacred any lowlife he came across, but now he's somehow razzing him about it in his dreams! He looked up anxiously as his ears picked up Blair getting out of bed downstairs. He needed Sandburg to help him muddle through this mojo stuff, but Blair was getting border-line psychotic with what he'd been getting from the freak's transmissions. Blair was coming up, so Ellison sat up to confer as Sandburg came through the door.

"I figured you'd be up," said Blair as he closed the door. "Has it contacted you again?"

"Sort of," sighed Jim as he rubbed his temples. "I still can't SEE him..."

"Same boat here, Big Guy," said Blair dejectedly. "All I can make out is that giant lizard totem, and lemme tell ya, that is one SCARY piece of luggage! Every time I wake up I feel like I owe it a favor."

"Well, at least he isn't pissing on your life," snorted Jim. "You don't think I'm just a glorified janitor, do you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, just cleaning up the problems of society so there's room for more the next day?"

Blair furrowed his brow worriedly. "Jim, from what I got from my spirit guide you can NOT let that thing in your head like that. If it can take you out of your zone, you're as good as dead... It's an ENEMY. It's GOADING you to fall into some sort of trap..."

"It keeps calling me 'little brother'..."

"That's bad," pronounced Blair. "He's obviously trying to make some sort of bond..."

"What, like you and I have? Sentinel and Guide?"

"No... Teacher and Student..."

"That IS bad. It wants me to be what IT is?"

"Well, I'm not sure. Seeing as how not a lot of information is available on this guy from either the ancient lore or your pals at Langley, but from what I already know I'd have to say that it's MUCH more Sentinel than you..."

"Hey, that'll give me all the confidence I need..." spat Jim sarcastically.

"No. THINK about it," clarified Blair. "I remember being told by the Spirit that there was no other creature like it in this Age. That explains the dinosaur-type totem. Further, back in Primitive Times when there were lots of Sentinels, they served as the entire Justice System for their respective tribes. When I met you, I figured that the modern-day equivalence..."

"Me being a cop?"

"EXACTLY! Was keeping within the tenets of the Sentinel. THIS guy, on the other hand, is keeping within the ORIGINAL parameters. He might not even KNOW it, but he's a bona fide anachronism of the Sentinel Purpose. Protect the tribe from threats... From outside OR inside... We've got to try and find out as much as we can about this thing..."

"We've been TRYING. My friends at Langley came up with NOTHING. It's like this thing just came to life big as hell and pissed off."

"Well," mused Blair. "Either that's because they don't know, or they can't tell..."

"What are you suggesting?" demanded Jim warily.

"Hear me out. Obviously, this thing has EXTENSIVE hand to hand skill, right? Wasn't one of the guys he tore up an 8th Degree Black Belt?"

"According to the ring the victim had on his hand, yes," acceded Ellison. "But he could have stolen that."

"No. According to the crime scene, he put up a fight and a half, remember? ALSO, he had about six thousand dollars in steroids on him, so he was obviously some kind of dealer."

"WHOA! Hold on. What makes you think he was some sort of dealer? Maybe that was his personal stash, or something."

"Coroner find any steroids in his system?" asked Blair.

Jim grimaced. "No," he conceded. "Just the stash he had - and THAT was shoved forcibly into his colon via the rectum... Unopened."

"Ouch," whistled Blair. "You see? It's sending a message. A little 'Vlad Tepes' for my taste, but I'm sure the message is pretty clear."

"MESSAGE? This guy is killing people to SAY something?" Jim cried, aghast. "What then?"

"Well, Vlad Tepes impaled his enemies along his border as a warning that people should try invading someone else. It worked. I think this is some sort of bizarre parallel to old Drac's 'Keep Out' signs. He's telling the bad guys to get lost... Or die. Badly. Sociologically speaking, the criminal element is accustomed to a certain level of power; control, even. Something like our buddy ripping the hell out of 'em has GOT to be causing cataclysmic levels of discourse throughout their entire paradigm. I wish I could observe some of them, really find out what they're feeling."

"I dunno... They might be feeling that they've got to find it and take it out..."

"Exactly! Standard criminal mindset suggests that they should regain control of their environment ASAP. The death of this monster would be the only way they COULD, so it would stand to reason they'd be out in force. But that's not going to go well..."

"What makes you so sure?" asked Jim, happy to get a word in. "Mojo or not, it's just one guy against God knows how many."

"It's a trap," pronounced Sandburg. "He's trying to draw them out so he knows his enemy. Sort of like a sniper in Viet Nam would wound one soldier in a field to get his buddies to come out of cover and make themselves targets. The guerilla tactics, the martial proficiency, the way he can avoid all attempts to catch him; this monster's OBVIOUSLY the result of some hardcore level training."

"I don't like where you're going with this," said Jim. "It's like you're suggesting it's one of OURS..."

"Yours or SOMEBODY's," nodded Blair. "A theory which is backed up RATHER nicely by your pals at Langley not having anything on him."

"So you think he's a spook?"

"Oh-ho HO... YES. Big Time. So you know who THAT means we have to go see, right?"

"Kelso!" blurted Jim. "YEAH! He was REALLY high on the old Federal Food Chain! Maybe he knows something!?"

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We survey the group that is trying to look inconspicuous as it gathers in number... They are on the hunt for us, trying desperately to assert control of their situation. It is in vain... Looks like all the groups, too; local chapter of the Yakuza... 357s... Deuces... Voids... A veritable who's-who of lowlifes... Heh.

Looks like they've opted to forego their respective differences to contend with us. Some of the other area gangs have sent contingents as well... This pleases me. It's always gratifying that we can make people come together... Too bad we have to dispatch this mob so soon after they've grown, but we really don't like to have these scumbags roaming around doing as they please... There are children around here, after all...

They're up to nineteen, and more are coming along from the west and the south sections in those ridiculous black sedans favored by mobsters. Ah, well... Once they've all come we shall make ourselves available for a dance or two, but for now we content ourselves with listening to them encourage each other...

"Man, this is whack," complained a 357. "IF there IS some kinda boogeyman out here, he COULDN'T be crazy enough to still be out with all us out here," he stated hotly.

"King G, my young friend," said an Italian to his left, "if he were NOT interested in contending with us all, he would not have attacked all our interests in turn. The faster we have slain this 'Street Angel' the faster we may return to our respective businesses."

"Bullshit," interjected a Caucasian. "Dis guy is on some kinda deathwish to mess with just US Voids, and youse're sayin' he's messed up YOUR outfits, too? Whoever it is, he won't be seein' tomorrow... FACT."

"Just try not to shoot yourself _gaijin_," chuckled a Japanese. "We know how greatly you simple people fear things beyond your meager understanding."

"Fuck you, Mr. Moto," spat the Void. "Dis thing is EASY to understand. It got our attention so we could kill it. So we do it a favor, and get back in time to see 'Leno'..."

"I still say whoever it is ain't gonna be that dumb," insisted King G. "With all this hardware out to bust a cap and a half in it, it's had to have gone underground or something..."

"Wassup, 'King', you scared of the boogeyman?" taunted a Deuce.

"YO! Kill dat noise, trailerpark," warned a second 357, who stood with five other of his faction at the ready. "You speak outta turn again, and that boogeyman is gonna be the LAST of YOUR trouble, nah mean?"

"YAMERU!" commanded the Oyabun of the local Yakuza. "Division is fruitless at this time. There will be time enough to fight each other for the scraps from OUR table like the mongrels you all are. For now, we have LARGER fish to net, _wakarimasu ka_?"

"HAI!" concurred the Oyabun's six men.

"Gentlemen," soothed the Italian. "What our Eastern friend lacks in diplomacy he compensates for in accuracy. With CERTAIN embellishments regarding his own importance notwithstanding, contention with each other is hardly prudent."

"Geeze, Mario," whistled a Deuce appreciatively. "You talk better den my last Public Defender."

"More than likely, Lawrence, seeing as you were only released last week from a guilty verdict for arson."

"Hey! That's personal!" protested Lawrence. "H-how did you know, anyway?"

"I find it entertaining to keep abreast of the doings in the minor league," chuckled Mario. "Ah, here are my good men..." He motioned for the six torpedoes to come over to the rest of the group. "Seven from each of we five men, including ourselves, as agreed."

"Yo, I been wondering," asked a Deuce. "Why seven?"

"Mario is known as 'Snake-Eyes' in some circles," proffered the Oyabun. "Though these circles are for better than such as you, the sad truth is he believes in Luck."

"My personal beliefs are not at issue," argued Mario. "No moreso than your choice to pray to a fat, bald man..."

"You would do well to show RESPECT for Buddha," warned the Oyabun.

"Man, FUCK Buddha," spat the Deuce. "Let's just fan out and find this thing..."

"That won't be necessary," added someone from the shadows. "It's found YOU."

"Holy SHIT!" exclaimed the group in unison. "KILL IT!"

They foolishly open fire on where we were as we move quickly into their midst. We drive a ridgehand across the bridge of the nose of one of the 357s, who goes down in a shower of blood and bone. A back thrust kick catches a Yakuza in the throat, crushing his trachea. They continue firing, doing a lot of our work for us... This pleases me.

Eleven men go down in under a second, and we keep the pressure up... We glide past a Deuce grasping his chin as we do, a twist, and he's out of play. We ram a knee into one of the Italians' ribcage, driving shattered rib fragments into his heart and lung while we loop a backhand punch into the kidney of a Void. One of the 357's has been frozen with disbelief, so we see to his friend who is chambering a shotgun at his left. We reach him as he brings the shotgun up, and help him aim it past us to the three Yakuza who were closing on us. A squeeze from fear and surprise dispatches the Japanese nicely, and we bring the shotgun up under his chin in time for the reflexive second squeeze. He releases his hold on the shotgun as he releases his hold on this mortal coil, and we swing it by the barrel into the temple of 'Snake-Eyes' sending him to move in an even BETTER circle with a shattered skull.

The Oyabun is screaming frantically, and the Deuces see fit to obey his orders as they continue to fire, mowing down one of their own along with two Voids and the last of the Italians. King G still hasn't moved, so we shove him down as a hail of bullets tear up the area we both were occupying.

Six seconds in, and we've got two Voids, three Deuces, one Jap, and King G left. They fire on us some more, but we're already moving, sticking to the shadows as they waste their power on the bricks of the alley.

The Oyabun is shrieking about us coming to them, and he actually has the audacity to draw a SWORD. They've caught on to the drawbacks of firearms in close quarters, we see... Fine. We palm a Deuce by the face and squeeze as we shove backwards sharply, creating that musical wrenching crunch we've come to love. We dodge a knife from a Void and catch him by the wrist to turn him into the arc of the Oyabun's sword stroke. He tries to checkswing but it's too late; he's buried the blade into the skull of the Void, who shudders as his cortex shuts down from the rude intrusion.

We fling the corpse blade and all at the two Deuces, who go down under it, and we hear flesh tear as the blade feasts on one of them - making his hand with his pistol clench - emptying it into his comrade under the Void, which sends them both INTO the Void for added irony. The last Void comes at us with a chain, and we raise an arm to blunt the attack.

The chain wraps around our arm, and we yank him into our grasp as we loop the slack of his chain under his chin and over our shoulder while we place ourselves back to back with him. We pull down as we go into a crouch, which pulls him across our back by his throat as we shift our grip to spin him to the ground alone. He lands on the back of his head with the chain as a fulcrum for the rest of his weight, and that'll retire his side...

We turn to the Oyabun, who is trying to pull a backup pistol from his jacket... He gets it out, but we're already on top of him and swat his pistol away with one hand as we grab him by the throat with the other. We squeeze as we lift, and then drive him down across a dry standpipe, which just leaves King G and us. We stride over to where he is as he gets shakily to his feet...

"OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod!" blubbered King G. "Please... Please don't kill me..."

"You did not join your fellows in attack. This is why you do not join them now... Unless you'd choose to reconsider?"

"No.. Oh Jesus... No," he gushed as he dropped his gun and backed against a wall.

"This pleases me. You are but a boy, are you not?"

"I... I'm nineteen."

"This is no place for a boy. Twice have we given you your life this night... Do not squander this gift again. Go."

"W-wait... Who are you? WHAT are you?"

"We are the Angel of Death Most Exalted. You are a boy that has seen the true price of this path you walk. Turn away."

"I... I... Thank you. Jesus, thank you! I won't waste it... I promise... I... Thank you..." King G turned and ran.

"You're welcome," whispered the Angel. "See you SOON..."

Hmmm... Perhaps one CAN grow cabbage in a coalmine, after all.... Just need the right fertilizer.... Heh.

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Chapter 3