The Paladin Book 1 Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Monday

November 22nd

My alarm blared at a painfully high decibel in my ear as it did every other weekday. It was the only way to get me up at seven o’clock. After Samantha dropped me off the night prior I ate a crappy microwavable dinner, did the homework I could no longer procrastinate on and went to bed. The weekend had been long, and painful, and I just wanted to put it all in the rearview. It was a new week and, despite my exhaustion, I was excited. Today was the day I was going to meet with Mr. Romero at Tech-Sync and I was ecstatic. I knew my dad didn’t want me working there, so I felt a little bit guilty. But going to the new headquarters of Tech-Sync and getting a personal tour from Alexander Romero was not an opportunity you passed up. I rolled out of bed, the shrapnel wounds and my back were still in pain, though nothing a little bit of Ibuprofen and some good ol’ fashion grit couldn’t get me past.

I went through my typical morning routine starting with some clothes. For pants it was a dark indigo pair of jeans so beaten and worn you could’ve sworn they were light wash and a wrinkled white t-shirt. After selecting my clothes I hit the shower, shaved, got dressed, ate breakfast, brushed my teeth and then headed off to school, making sure I didn’t wake anyone up on the way out. STCH was only about a mile from my house, so regardless of the weather, I walked to school. It was a particularly cold morning but this time I remembered to grab my denim jacket on the way out, rendering the chilly weather manageable. I went through the interaction with Mr. Romero a hundred times in my head, making sure to iron out all the kinks before talking with him. It didn’t take long to get to school. Time flew by when I was thinking about Tech-Sync. The buses had just pulled in and kids had started to file in through the main lobby as they made their way to homeroom. I maneuvered my way through the crowds, quickly dancing through trying to get to my homeroom as soon as I could.

“Uh oh! I smell bacon!" said a voice from behind me. I stopped. Had I kept moving, it would’ve just given me more problems. I turned around and lo and behold there was the trio of assholes themselves. Tyler Deckard, Max Williams, and Theo Julio, looking like a veritable Neapolitan of douchebaggery Tyler representing the vanilla, Max the chocolate, and Theo being where the metaphor fell apart (he was Mexican). Tyler, the ringleader, headed the threesome as they stepped towards me, while their friends circled around, enticed by the bullying. “How's it going little pig? Haven’t seen you in a bit?" he asked. Little pig, cute, that what they call your dick? Meh, I’ll workshop it some more I thought to myself, making sure to remember the roast for later. “I’m sure you heard about my suspension but luckily enough for me, Coach Rufus managed to work it down to probation.”

“Do I even want to know how you swung that deal?” I questioned.

“We got the Turkeybowl on Thursday versus Midtown and he can’t afford to have his starting QB stuck on the sidelines. Anyway, I was wondering if you knew anything about that suspension? Principal Martin said that one of the students reported me for bullying and I just wanted to clear things up with them,” he informed.

“Look, you're barking up the wrong tree Deckard,” I answered bluntly. It was true, I didn’t report him, I didn’t have the time to deal with him. I turned back around and kept walking but Tyler made his way around me with Theo and Max flanking me.

“See I don’t think I am,” he replied, shoving me into a locker. “I think you’re the little shit bag who turned me in,” he shared, again, pushing me into the locker. Tyler was a sizable guy, so it didn’t feel particularly pleasant being pushed around by him, especially when every time I hit the locker the edge jabbed into my shrapnel wound. I groaned in pain. “I think that little pig is a big rat,” he accused. I clenched my fists, my knuckles turning white. Knock his teeth down his throat. He pushed me again. Stab him with your pen. Pushed again. Bash his head in with your textbook, that’ll teach him. Pushed again. A full blown crowd started to form around us as Tyler proceeded to push me harder and harder into the locker, causing my violent tendencies to start to bubble to the surface. Don’t be stupid, the rational part of my brain warned as it maintained control.

“Hey! Shouldn’t you guys be going to homeroom?” chimed in Mr. Miller. The crowd scattered except for a few of the students, one of which happened to be Alicia who had seen the whole thing.

“Sorry Mr. Miller, we’re just fooling around,” Tyler excused.

“That’s BS! Booker, tell him!” Alicia insisted.

“Booker?” Mr. Miller questioned. I sighed, unclenching my fist.

“Just fooling around,” I assured. Mr. Miller didn’t look remotely convinced but it was enough for him to wave off the others who headed off to homeroom leaving me with Mr. Miller and Alicia.

“You sure you’re okay Booker?” Mr. Miller asked.

“I’m fine Mr. Miller, just peachy,” I made clear, through semi-gritted teeth. Mr. Miller nodded unconvincingly and headed back into his classroom. Alicia rushed over to me with a look of concern.

“Are you okay? Why didn’t you say anything to Mr. Miller? He probably could have helped you?" she demanded.

“Don’t worry about me Alicia, I’m fine,” I responded. She looked at me skeptically then suddenly her face turned to horror.

“Oh my God you’re bleeding!” she noticed, pointing to my shoulder. Sure enough, I was, all the shoving opened up the wound. “Booker this is not okay, you have to report this to the principal."

“I’m fine! I said I was fine and I meant it! Just mind your own business!” I snapped. She looked at me stunned for a moment and walked away. “Damn it,” I cursed to myself, running my hands through my hair with a frustrated sigh. I headed off to the bathroom to change into my gym shirt, washed the blood from my old shirt, and tried to stop the bleeding.

The rest of the morning went okay for the most part. I managed to not get pushed into any lockers or piss off anyone who was just trying to help, so that was a plus. By the time lunch rolled around, I was in a foul mood and just wanted to be by myself. I had decided that it would’ve been for the best to not go to Tech-Sync. I didn’t deserve it. The only reason I’d gotten the opportunity in the first place was that I was kind to Alicia and I’d gone and yelled at her for just trying to stick up for me. I ate the sloppily assembled peanut butter and jelly sandwich I’d prepared the night prior in solitude when a few of my friends showed up and sat down across from me. To clarify, they weren’t really my friends but were the closest thing I had to friends at STCH. Back in sixth grade, Colt, Johnny, and I used to play Dungeons and Dragons with them. I was the Paladin naturally (though sometimes a Fighter), Johnny; the Ranger, and Colt; the Barbarian. They were nerds in the truest sense, but good guys and always nice to me, so I didn’t mind them joining the table.

“How’s the campaign going boys? Still using Pathfinder or have you made the switch to Fifth edition yet?” I asked out of courtesy.

“Sticking with Pathfinder. It’s just got more to it in our opinion,” Tim answered. I’d known Tim since elementary school. He stopped growing when he was in about sixth grade and still barely looked like he was in middle school, which was unfortunate for a Sophomore.

“Agreed,” I replied. I scanned between the three who had sat down and noticed something off with one of them. Josh was a chubby, funny, and usually a pretty cheerful guy. However, at that moment, he looked like he was being haunted, his visage pale and vacant. “You good Josh?” I asked.

“Huh?” he responded, his head on a swivel like a nervous chipmunk.

“You okay? You seem a little off,” I reiterated.

“I did something really stupid,” he admitted, beginning to panic.

“What did you do?” I questioned.

“I told the principal about Tyler, Max, and Julio, and he promised he’d have them on suspension,” Josh started.

“So you’re the one,” I muttered in realization. He nodded in confirmation. “Why would you do that? You know that they’re gonna find out.”

“For just one week without them making our lives miserable,” Josh insisted.

“Dumbass,” I groaned.

“And I just heard someone talking about it last period, somebody must have heard me in the principal’s office. It’s just a matter of time before they come after me,” Josh informed.

“Okay, there’s no need to be so melodramatic, Josh. It’s STCH, not State Pen. They’re not going to shank you or some shit,” I assured.

“But they’ll make my life hell for the foreseeable future,” he pointed out. I sighed. He has a good point. Suddenly I came to a realization, causing them all to give me looks of skepticism.

“Did you guys sit here to get me to do something about it?” I queried, giving them each the hairy eyeball.

“No!” Ryan, the third one, protested.

“Can you?” Josh asked desperately.

“Dude shut up!” Ryan insisted, swatting Josh on the shoulder across the table.

“To be fair, you did lay out Tyler in Freshman year when he was teasing Jenny Welles,” Tim reminded.

“Yeah, and I had hell to pay because of it. I’m still on academic probation,” I countered. More than that, they lumped me into a category of special troublemakers because they thought I was acting out to rebel against my dad. The truth was, I just stuck up for the wrong people at the wrong time. “Hate to break it to you guys, but I can’t just punch him and be done with it. That’s not how it works. If I do one thing out of whack, the principal will be on me like flies on shit,” I pointed out. They looked at me a little vacantly, clearly not recognizing that particular phrase. “All over me,” I clarified. Josh looked down at his feet glumly, like a prisoner about to be executed.

“Well thanks for thinking about it Booker,” he sighed. I was racked with guilt but there wasn’t anything I could do. Principal Martin seemed to have tunnel vision when it came to me and conflicts, always assuming they were my fault. So as long as I was on school grounds I was completely powerless. I looked past Josh and saw the Assholes Three coming in through the cafeteria. Panning across the sea of students, they were obviously looking for someone.

“Shit, word spreads quickly in this place,” I muttered to myself.

“What?” Josh asked, looking back. His already pasty complexion turned to a ghostly shade of white as he sat petrified while he looked at them.

“Stop looking at them!” I ordered. Josh did as he was told and turned his head back. “Look Tyler is obviously looking for you, I’m going to distract him while you three go to the nurse’s office. Josh, you say you hit your head in gym class and you’re feeling a bit woozy and it’s hard to focus, hopefully, they’ll send you home to get a concussion test. You two, back up his story and say you saw him throw up in the bathroom. They can’t keep him around after that,” I ordered, basing my plan off of personal experience. They all nodded.

“What are you going to do?” Ryan asked. What I do best, get the shit kicked out of me.

“I’ll take care of it. Go, before everyone gets dismissed,” I made clear. They did as they were told, heading straight for the exit. Tyler, Max, and Julio managed to spot them across the lunchroom and started closing in, attempting to cut them off. I got in between and bumped into Tyler, who glared at me with a furious look.

“Screw off Kelly! I figured out who ratted on me," he demanded.

“You seriously think it was Josh? I heard that rumor too. Problem is, you and I both know the kid doesn’t have the balls to do it. You wanted the guy who turned you in, I’m right here, pussy,” I retorted, flipping him the bird as I did. It was a pretty obvious lie, but Tyler wasn’t exactly known for his intelligence so he took the bait like he was the dumbest fish in a school (which he was).

“Should've figured tubby didn’t have the stones. You know what this means right? Today, after class, at the dumpsters. You don’t come, I’m gonna find you and I’m gonna make it hurt a lot more,” he warned. Beat the crap out of him. This thought raced in my mind over and over; along with a few fantasies a lot darker than I’d like to admit. But the logical part of my brain took the reins, realizing how stupid it would be for me to do that. If I beat up Tyler, it would turn out just like what happened a year ago. We’d both go to the principal, the coach Rufus would talk to the athletic director who would talk to the principal and they’d all come to the same conclusion. Tyler was just minding his business when I, being the miscreant I am, attacked him out of nowhere. It was just a coincidence that Tyler was their starting quarterback whose dad donated to the school regularly and I was a not particularly remarkable former student athlete. I had been down that road and had no desire to repeat the experience.

“Three thirty,” I figured.

“Be waiting,” he finalized. The three brushed past, making sure to each drive a shoulder into me as they walked past, just to assert their dominance. I rolled my eyes and headed back to my seat, leaving me the rest of the period to prepare for my ass kicking.

(Meanwhile at Midtown High)

Johnny was seated in the cafeteria, about to take a monstrous bite of his roast beef sandwich, when Samantha sat down across from him. An expression of horror mixed with disgust on her face came across her face as saw her friend gorging on his lunch. Johnny took the sandwich out of his mouth and placed it on the paper bag he took it out of.

“Don’t judge me, I’m a growing boy, it’s natural,” Johnny pointed out, a wad of ham and cheese still tumbling in his mouth.

“Growing boy? More like an anaconda, practically unhinging your jaw. And that is anything but natural,” she remarked.

“Wanna see me eat it all in one bite?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No! God! Not in a million years,” she replied. He chuckled and started in on his sandwich again, this time intentionally taking smaller bites in a mocking manner. “So I think I got some information on the Paladin. I was talking to Booker yesterday. He said there were a lot of reports from the condemned district, and recommended looking for him there.”

“Hold on a second, Booker? Booker Kelly? You roped him into this? I thought we were playing this close to the chest?" he questioned, putting down his sandwich again.

“Relax, I told him I was doing a project on the history of vigilantes in America and I’m looking to take a few pictures. He’s totally out of the loop.”

“So you manipulated him to get information? That’s a little cold-blooded Sammy.”

“What do you want me to do then? Invite him into the fold? Booker’s a smart guy, but he’s way too sweet and gentle for this type of thing. I couldn’t put him at risk like that.”

“Hahaha, okay, whatever you say.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked defensively. Giving him the dagger eyes which nearly made him choke on his sandwich.

“Nothing, continue.”

“Anyway, I say we go by the condemned district tonight and wait to see if he stops by. Assuming he does anything like the way we do things, he probably has a route. If the condemned district is on that route, he’s gotta make a stop there at some point,” she figured.

“As good an idea as that sounds, what are we going to do if we actually manage to find him? I doubt he’ll be up for a chat,” Johnny reminded.

“I guess we’re going to have to hope he wants to team up with somebody as much as we do,” she responded with a shrug.

“Me too, because we need back up ASAP. Last bust, we barely got outta there. My chest is still hurting like hell from that nine mil,” he pointed out, rubbing the sore area of his chest.

“You’re lucky it hit dead smack on kevlar or you’d have a lot more than a bruise to be complaining about,” she countered. He nodded in agreement. “Okay, so here’s the plan. We go home, get our homework done, take care of our chores, etc, etc. Then we meet at the HQ at four, train until seven, head home for a bit, sneak out and wait at the condemned district until twelve. Sound good?” she clarified.

“Are we bringing gear to meet the Paladin?” he asked.

“Better be safe. We don’t know how he’ll react," she answered. On that, the bell rang for fourth period and the two headed off to geometry.

I wasn’t looking forward to meeting Tyler outside. In fact, I was dreading it, not because I was afraid of him. I’d come up against far more intimidating challenges than a high school bully in my crime fighting tenure. But I was able to fight back against those people. I always got my licks in, but today I couldn’t. Today, I just had to take it and walk away, or it would just make things worse. I was leaning against the dumpster when the three came around the corner. Tyler ready and raring to fight.

“Surprised you actually showed up Kelly. Thought you’d run away like a pussy,” Tyler remarked.

“Let’s just get this over with Deckard. And just watch the face, will you? For both of our sakes, we don’t want people asking questions,” I clarified. Tyler just grinned and led in with a right hook to my jaw. I stumbled back into the dumpster and tasted blood on my lip. His technique was meh at best and I knew how to take a punch. But that didn’t stop his dad’s college graduation ring splitting open my lip. That asshole.

“I’ll hit you however the hell I want to!" he snapped. He smacked me again with another right hook but I blocked it with my forearm, counter with a right elbow, I kept my arms tight, guarding my head. After the right hook didn’t work, he went for a left uppercut which I dodged, left cross to the jaw, still my arms maintained their position. After the uppercut failed he went for a wild right hook but I brought my arm up to my head and blocked most of the force from it. This pattern continued as he proceeded to wail on me. There wasn’t much damage being done, as I managed to block the majority of the hits, that was until he knocked me down and started soccer kicking me. That didn’t last long, however, as he wore himself out after just a minute or two. He then took a deep breath pushing back his hair, which had gotten disheveled in his rage. “Remember that the next time you rat on me, bitch,” he ordered. Walking off, his two followers in tow, he left me behind the dumpster. After a couple of moments spent catching my breath. I heard the clacking of boots on the ground and there stood Alicia gawking in horror.

“Oh my God! Booker what happened to you?” she exclaimed, rushing to help me.

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” I assured, warding her off with an arm.

“No, this is assault Booker, plain and simple. You can’t just take this!” she made clear.

“What did I say before Alicia?” I sighed, dusting off my clothes. She opened her mouth to respond but was at a loss for words. She doesn’t deserve this. “Just let me worry about my own problems Alicia, okay? And trust me when I say it’s not worth getting involved,” I insisted, walking off alone back to my house.

My mom was sitting smack dab in the middle of the kitchen, in the direct path between me and the bathroom. Sitting at her laptop, she seemed engrossed in her work, planning out her next two weeks of class. I walked past her quickly, acting as though nothing was wrong when she stopped me dead in my tracks.

“What happened to your lip? And why is your cheek swollen?” she asked, not taking her eyes up from her computer. I was convinced that my parents were superhuman and it was just a cruel joke that I didn’t get powers.

“I tripped on the stairs at school,” I fibbed, not putting much effort into my excuse. She looked me in the eyes, then the rest of the face, and then raised an eyebrow.

“Those happen to be fist shaped stairs by any chance?" she remarked. I sighed, realizing I’d been busted. “I’m a cop’s wife and you kids have been in boxing gyms since you were eight years old. Did you really think I wouldn’t pick up on it?” she pointed out. I shrugged. “What was it about this time?" she questioned, closing down her laptop and turning to get a better look at me.

“It was nothing, Mom. Can I just go upstairs and sleep? I’ve been going full tilt this past week,” I insisted. She grabbed me by the jaw, moving me around like a bobble-head, analyzing the cut on my lip as well as the bruising that was coming in.

“I can tell. You look like the walking dead.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m serious. It’s bad enough you’re running yourself ragged with school and work. But getting into fights? Especially after what happened last time,” she made clear, making her way over to the fridge.

“I’m not going around looking for these things Mom, I swear. I’m trying to keep my head down but this crap just follows me around." She grabbed a slab of steak from the fridge and tossed it to me.

“Am I going to be hearing about this particular incident, or did you and whoever it is that did that to you work things out?” she asked.

“Don’t worry about it. Nobody important knows. It’s not gonna be another freshman year situation,” I assured.

“Alright, two more things, then you can go, I promise. Did you win or lose?”

“Depends on how you look at it?” I replied.

“I’m gonna take that as you lost,” she deduced. Not an inaccurate assessment if I was being honest. “Last one. Did you need to do it? Or could you have avoided it?” she questioned.

“It had to happen,” I answered truthfully, slapping the cut of cold meat to my face. She nodded in confirmation, satisfied with the answer she had gotten before heading to the door.

“Okay honey, I have a shift at four, so I’m not going to be home until last call. There are ribs in the oven and they’ll be done at six. All you have to do is take them out and cut them up,” she instructed as she slipped on her shoes and grabbed a coat.

“Will do. Love you Mom,” I made clear.

“Love you more sweetie, next time try not to get your ass kicked so much,” she replied.

“Oh come on!” I retorted but by that point she was already out the door. headed down the hall to my room and then passed out from exhaustion.

I woke up a couple hours later to the sound of the oven alarm blaring and the smell of slightly burned ribs. Rushing down to the kitchen, I took the pan out of the oven, revealing a layer of black char on top of all the ribs. Still looks edible to me. I cut them up and took a few to my room, where I began preparing for the night. I planned to make the night a little easier, maybe cut down on my route a little. I was still pretty roughed up from the previous night so I was looking to turn in early. However, I needed to make sure I stopped by the condemned district, later on. I figured if I helped Samantha out it might lift my spirits a little. I also needed to conserve some energy in case SEAL Team Zero decided to ambush me again. Since I wasn’t dead, the contract wasn’t fulfilled, so they were still on the hunt for me. Lastly, I needed to talk to that guy, Byron, about the team and what they were doing there. He very well could have been the one who hired them.

The sun started to set over Tar City, which was my cue to suit up. I figured I’d go to the condemned district first, let Samantha snap a few pictures, then move on to Brick and Mortar and see if I couldn’t persuade Byron to give me some information on SEAL Team Zero. If that didn’t work, I’d move on to the local rats who always had something for me to work with provided I applied the right pressure. I headed off into the city, atop the southside roofs of Tar City, and made my way towards the condemned district. The condemned district was condemned as a result of an incident about seventeen years ago. Back when there were about a dozen superheroes for every city, a C list villain called Checkmate had planted an Anthrax bomb and demanded a million dollars ransom or he’d blow the bomb, gassing the whole block. Three of the world’s biggest superheroes went in to stop him. Captain Courageous, Revenant, and Arbalist. And only two walked out that day. The civilian death toll was catastrophic. It marked a crushing blow for people’s faith in superheroes and marked the beginning of the end. It was more than fifteen years ago and people still were afraid to go in. With the exception of some squatters and drug addicts, the place was pretty much empty.

I perched myself on the tallest building in the block, to ensure Samantha didn’t get a good look at me. The less she knew about the Paladin the better, so as long as I kept my distance, it would be fine. Suddenly, I heard the door creaking behind me and two teens, a girl and a boy, came out of the stairwell in full outfits not unlike my own. These must be the infamous Morpho and Desperado, great, I thought to myself. Upon closer inspection, I realized I knew the girl. She might’ve been covered neck to toe in an all black suit with a kevlar vest, and her face might’ve been covered by a hood and a black half mask with white detailing that resembled a butterfly’s wings. But she didn’t have me fooled. It was Samantha. There was no doubt about it. I couldn’t get a good look at the boy and I was also pretty distracted by his getup. He wore beat up brown cowboy boots, nondescript blue jeans and a colorful red, green and yellow poncho that covered just about everything else. His face was obscured by a bandana and a cowboy hat, but despite that something about him seemed familiar. As it all began to register, I went to my exit strategy, bolting towards the fire-escape. I heard the click of the hammer being pulled back on a pistol and my eyes flickered to Desperado who had an old-fashioned single-action revolver trained on me. With the sound of the hammer being cocked, I focused in on my target, immediately drawing a dart from my belt.

“Don’t move,” he suggested calmly.

“We just came here to talk,” Samantha explained calmly. I opened my mouth to talk but immediately realized she would recognize my voice in an instant. Luckily, I had planned for just such an occasion. I reached into my back pocket and flipped on the voice modulator that I had set up in my helmet and responded.

“Really? Last I checked guns weren’t made for talking,” I pointed out, my voice rendered unrecognizable by the modulator.

“Put the gun down Desperado, we’re all cool here, right?” she insisted. Desperado did as he was told and holstered his revolver. As a sign of good faith I sheathed my dart, and as a sign of annoyance, I crossed my arms and waited for their pitch. “Look, clearly we got off on the wrong foot here. We’re just trying to help, same as you. I’m Morpho, this is Desperado.”

“You don’t say,” I responded obviously.

“Well we were thinking, maybe you could... I don’t know, give us a few pointers or something, just to get us through the first few months?" she asked.

“You want some advice? Here’s a tip, stay home, don’t ever come looking for me again. You're gonna get yourselves killed if you do,” I made clear.

“Tar City is our home, too, and we’re not letting it go to shit. So what makes you think you have a monopoly on giving a crap?” she countered. It was true. It was pretty hypocritical of me to expect them to take this lying down, but I didn’t become a vigilante to make friends. If it meant keeping Samantha out of harm's way, I’d have to accept being a hypocrite.

“This isn’t a debate, it’s a warning. If you come out here again looking for trouble or try to follow me, I will treat you like any other gang-banger and have you thrown in jail,” I warned. Samantha opened her mouth to talk but then closed it realizing it didn’t matter what she said. The answer was going to be the same.

“Guess we’ll be leaving then,” she figured.

“Prick,” Desperado muttered as the two of them headed down the fire-escape. It was harsh, I recognized that, but it was for their own good. I was prepared for this type of job, they weren’t. Plus, I’d never be able to forgive myself if Samantha was hurt because I didn’t tell her to quit. Gerry was not prepared to handle that sort of thing. I headed off to Brick and Mortar to shake some answers out of Byron. With any luck, I’d be able to gain some perspective and figure out who was behind it all.

It didn’t take much to find Byron. He had the gaudiest car in the lot and his own parking space right near the entrance of the club. So predictable. I sat, waiting in the alleyway adjacent to Brick and Mortar, stalking my prey. As luck would have it, the club closed early on Monday nights, so I wasn’t waiting very long. However, all good things come at a cost, and it appeared that Byron had bolstered his personal security since the last attack. This time, six bodyguards covered each angle. Luckily, none of them seemed to be part of SEAL Team Zero, which led me to believe he wasn’t the one who hired them. Regardless, he likely had answers to at least a few of my questions. His guards spread out, making a perimeter, which theoretically was a good idea, but left them isolated. I snuck behind the guard who was keeping a lookout in the alley, smacked the gun out of his hand with my mace and caught him with a rear naked choke. He was out in a matter of seconds. Zip tying and gagging him I moved right next to the wall overlooking the parking lot. Byron had just started to unlock his car when I emerged from the shadows, my mace drawn as I approached his car. The second guard was on the passenger side and immediately reached for his pistol as he saw me. Unfortunately, it was too late. I smacked him across the jaw with the mildest of mace swings, the force sending him tumbling to the ground. He is going to need some serious oral surgery after that. BANG! A gunshot came out of nowhere and one of the guards dropped to the ground writhing in pain. That’s when all hell broke loose. Byron made a mad dash to his car while the guards started firing in every direction, trying to take out the marksman who shot their guy. I paused for a second, scanning the scene to determine where the shot came from when suddenly Samantha came sprinting across the street like a blur. Hurtling at one of the guards, she hit him with a flying knee to the chest. Sending him stumbling into the wall, where he ate another knee, this time to the head. Samantha then swiftly dodged an incoming gunman’s shot, smacked him with a lightning fast head kick. Thwap! Then slammed him to the concrete with a foot sweep, leaving him wheezing for air. God damn it, they followed me. While I was distracted, Byron’s engine revved before he peeled off out of the lot. I sprinted after him, vaulting over the cars in my way. He got as far as the road when I intercepted. Hurling myself onto the top of the car, I plunged my sword into the aluminum roof, ensuring I wasn’t going anywhere as long as I held on. The operative phrase being ‘as long as I held on’. He gunned it down the street, dragging me along with him at forty miles per hour and climbing. I leaned over onto the driver's side of the car, propping my feet against the door. Then I freed one hand from gripping the sword and smashed the window with my mace. Byron swerved uncontrollably. Seeing where this was going, I pushed off of the car door, launching myself away from the car’s trajectory, barrel rolling to break the fall. The car slammed into a fire hydrant, smoke billowing from the hood, while water sprayed everywhere.

“Mother-,” I groaned in pain, pulling myself up. After I passed my own cursory medical check, I meandered over to the car, yanked the sword out of the roof and sheathed it. I cleared the broken glass from the window, unbuckled Byron, yanked his unconscious body out of the window, and threw him over my shoulder, carrying him off to a nearby alley. Sirens blared in the distance as Samantha finished off the last of Byron’s guards. By the time she and Desperado had tied up the guards, I was carrying Byron away to the closest of my hideaways. However, that didn’t seem to stop the two of them being hot on my heels as soon as I ran off.

They were pretty good at tracking, I had to admit that much given that they were able to figure out where I was going to be. However, they were about as subtle as a sledgehammer, being easily spotted within a few minutes. After getting to one of my many hideaways, I zip tied Byron to one of the exposed pipes and hid behind the door. Knowing the two would come barging in at any second. Samantha came in first, I let her pass by, then Desperado. I seized him by the collar then put a blade to his throat before he knew what hit him.

“I remember telling you not to follow me,” I pointed out. It took a moment, but as soon as I noticed, I shuddered. My voice modulator had been broken when I jumped from the car, and I was in a room with two people who knew my alter ego. Suddenly, Samantha’s expression changed from fear to curiosity and then shock at the sound of my voice. She’d recognized me, there was no doubt about it. The question was, what was she going to do about it?

“It can’t be. No way," she gawked.

“What?” Desperado questioned.

“Keep your mouth shut,” I warned, pointing to Samantha then to Byron.

“Let go of Desperado and let us talk it out and I will,” Samantha bargained.

“You're bluffing,” I countered.

“You want to find out?” she asked.

“Fine. Roof. Now!” I ordered through gritted teeth, letting go of Desperado as I did so. I chained the door, and the three of us headed to the rooftop.

“Seems like introductions are in order, Johnny, Booker, Booker, Johnny. This may sound odd but I think you’ve met before," Samantha teased. I knew something was familiar about him. I took off my helmet with a sigh and he pulled off his bandana tucking into his pocket.

“No way! Booker?” Johnny remarked, still shocked by the realization.

“Here’s a question. What the hell are you doing out fighting crime? Shouldn’t you be... I don’t know, studying for a history exam, or building a computer somewhere? Kidnapping? Assault? I thought you were just some nerdy kid who liked history,” she inquired.

“My dad’s a cop. What’s your excuse?” I retorted. She didn’t have a response. “And who the hell gave you a gun Johnny? That has bad idea written all over it.”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?" he replied. I shrugged. Fair point.

“So... You’re not the real one are you? Like, you just made that or something? That’s why you told me to meet you in the condemned district? Cause there’s no way you’re... I mean you're too... Booker…” she explained, still in denial.

“Maybe you just think you know me better than you do,” I countered harshly. She recoiled a little, and like that, she stopped talking. “This stays between us three, capiche?”

“Of course. It’s a group policy,” Johnny concurred.

“Nuh uh, no, get that out of your head right now. There is no group. There is no team. There is me, and then there are you two. We go our separate ways, and we try our damnedest not to run into each other again. That’s how this works,” I made clear.

“Man, what is your problem? You're the reason we’re out here. We’re trying to help this city like you are, and you’re not even giving us the time of day,” Johnny pointed out.

“Let me make this clear to you two. I. Work. Alone. I have for the past year and everything has been going just peachy keen. Now you two show up, and there’s a firefight in the middle of Melrose street. So no, Johnny. I don’t want help from either of you. Frankly, what I want is for you two to go home and forget all of this.”

“Would you?” Samantha asked.

“Not a fair question. I have the experience and equipment for this. You two are out of your depth,” I countered.

“How can we become experienced if you won’t let us? " she challenged.

“This isn’t a debate,” I warned.

“No, you’re right. It’s not. You and I know Sam doesn’t have the guts to do it, Booker. But, if you don’t join our group, I will personally tell your father about your extracurriculars. And you know I will,” Johnny threatened. He would have too. Johnny was never the smartest in our group. Not to say he was dumb, but Colt was the smart one and I was good with my hands. He wasn’t the most athletic either. He always had been wiry since he was a kid and could never get enough meat on his bones. However, Johnny always had more guts than Colt and I put together. He was courageous to a stupid degree, which is why I took the threat seriously.

“So you’re gonna blackmail me till I like having you guys around?” I concluded.

“Basically,” he confirmed. I sighed and took a moment for consideration, a smirk crawled across Johnny’s face as he knew he’d gotten me.

“The guy downstairs isn’t just a nightclub owner, he’s the host of a weekly black market auction that peddles anything and everything to people willing to pay.”

“Which was what was happening last Saturday I presume when you took a swan dive out of a window. I don’t see what the big deal is, he’s a run of the mill scumbag? Why’s he so important that you jumped onto a moving car to catch him?” Samantha inquired.

“He’s a piece of a much bigger puzzle that I’m still trying to assemble. He’s moving slaves en masse to one specific customer, I need to find out who they are.”

“How many people we talkin’?” Johnny asked.

“I don’t know. The last shipment I stopped had about twenty people, and my source said they were making deliveries on a weekly basis, no telling how many people’s lives they’ve ruined.”

“Jesus Booker, if what you're saying is true then you’re going up against some really bad people. Shouldn’t you maybe let the police handle this one? I mean we stop muggers and the odd drug shipment, slavery though? Isn’t that beyond our pay grade?” she pointed out.

“You wanted in, now you're in. If you don’t think you can handle it then leave, cause I’m gonna save those people and take this guy down. You want to join, you make the call, and know that if you go into this thing uncertain then you’re already dead,” I warned. The two recoiled and stayed silent in reflection. I had nothing left to say, so on that I headed back into the safe house where Byron was chained to one of the support beams.

“About goddamn time, you done havin’ your chit-chat?” he demanded impatiently. In an instant, a small bit of my rage and frustration poked to the surface. I punched him square on the jaw, sending a spurt of blood splatting to the floor. Byron looked stunned for a second, wincing in pain, then just scoffed. “Anyone ever tell you that you hit like a girl?" he prodded, spitting a loogie on my helmet.

“I’m gonna turn you into a girl in a couple seconds if you don’t start answering my questions,” I warned.

“Well then I suggest you start asking questions,” he encouraged tauntingly.

“Who’s running SEAL Team Zero and who’s the customer who’s buying your slaves in bulk?” I demanded.

“That’s confidential I’m afraid,” he replied with a snarky cackle. I backhanded with some force, causing blood to splatter the wall. “Me mum used to smack me harder than that,” he chuckled.

“Tell me if your mum used to do this,” I said, approaching with my mace. That’s when Samantha and Johnny walked in, now resolute in their decision.

“Oh would you look at that, he’s got his friends, hopefully she hits harder than you,” Byron jabbed with a smile. Suddenly I heard the faint sound of a phone buzzing coming from his pockets.

“Hmm? Who could that be?” I inquired. As soon as I reached for his phone he reeled away and I raised an eyebrow. He was too tied up to evade me for long so within a couple seconds I managed to retrieve his phone and take a look at the caller ID. Sylvia. The contact picture was a woman, about the same age as Byron, holding a little baby in her arms. I stood there a little stunned for a moment, realizing that Byron had a family.

“If you don’t let me answer it she’s gonna worry,” he made clear.

“Fine, on speaker. You try anything, we’ll know,” I warned, answering the phone and putting on speaker.

“Hey baby, what you callin me for? I told you I was gonna be workin late,” he reminded, his tone completely shifting.

“I know but I miss you...we miss you. I haven’t gotten to see you since you got that new client of yours and I get lonely packing up all of our stuff for the move without you. I know you get busy when you plan events but this is insane,” she pointed out.

“Come on honey you know how crazy it's been since that psycho Paladin ransacked the place,” he replied, looking up at me as he did, inviting a middle finger as a response. “Besides it’s only going to be for another month, then this client is out of our lives for good, and we don’t have to worry about them.”

“I know, I know, it's just... Adrian misses his daddy, and with your schedule lately you’ve been getting home past midnight every night, and when you’re not at work you’re sleeping. To be honest, I’m less worried about the move to the Gardens and more about you. I mean you’re running yourself ragged honey,” she sighed. The ‘Gardens’ was the colloquial term for the Ridge-Hill apartment complex, an apartment complex in the North end that was typically reserved for the more wealthy individuals, Byron must have come into an influx of cash if he was moving out there.

“It will all be worth it once I’m done with this client. And I tell you what, once I’m done I’ll take a break from the club, go on a little holiday with you and Adrian and we’ll have a great time. Sound like a plan?” he offered.

“You always know how to get me. Come home soon, I want to at least see you before I go to bed,” she ordered.

“I will, love you babe,” he replied.

“Love you too,” she responded. I hung up the phone and looked to Byron.

“The Garden’s huh? Very nice,” I remarked.

“Screw you,” he retorted half-heartedly. Samantha pulled up a nearby chair across from Byron, and sat down face to face with him.

“Look Mr. White, despite all this shit going on with your club you don’t seem like too bad a person. Maybe you got greedy and got into bed with the wrong people, we’re not here to judge-”

“Speak for yourself, I’m definitely judging,” Johnny scoffed, earning a nod from me. She gave us both a dirty look.

“We’re here to give you a chance to give up your client. So please, for your family’s sake,” Samantha insisted.

“Is that all? You think you scare me? People I’m working for are a lot scarier than some kids running around the city like they’re some kind of superheroes. If I told you the brand of my boss’ shoe they’d kill me, and you want me to give you names?” he countered. I sighed.

“Let me ask you something, if these people are so dangerous and so secretive, what do you think they’re gonna do when they’re done with you? Just let you walk away?” I pointed out. It was evident that Byron didn’t think of that as his expression turned into a saddened expression.

“We can help you out Byron. Give me a name, an address, give me something so we can take these bastards down. Something big is happening and we need to stop it before more people get hurt. People like your wife and your son,” Samantha insisted.

“You think I like selling people? You think I like ruining these people's lives. I had rules you know, a code, like you do, I'm sure. But these aren’t the people you say no to,” he made clear.

“Yeah you’re just like us,” Johnny scoffed.

“Then help us take them down,” Samantha urged. Byron took a deep breath and let it out to calm his nerves, his tough bravado giving way to a more frightened inner self.

“There’s a warehouse complex just off route nine, Weiss storage facilities I think it’s called, that’s where we deliver them once we get them from the docks. Usually, meet with another crew of the boss’ men and leave the people with them," he added. I nodded and offered him back his phone.

“Go on that holiday you were planning, don’t come back until you see this on the nightly news, we clear? And if I see you again...” I instructed.

“I know you’ll beat me till I’m black and blue, I get the point,” Byron replied, snagging his phone. “In all seriousness, I hope you take these bastards down,” he added.

“Yeah yeah, get the hell out of here,” I agreed. He didn’t need to be told twice, and he bolted out through the fire-escape leaving the three of us alone in the safe house.

“Least he wasn’t bullshitting,” Johnny commented. I turned back, pulling off my helmet as soon as I knew the coast was clear.

“What do you mean?” I asked. He handed me his phone and on his maps app, there was a pin in the middle of the forests near the highway.

“Weiss storage facilities is real and looks like the perfect place to hide something you don’t want to be found,” he answered.

“Then that’s where we’re going. Tomorrow after school, bring your gear with you,” I made clear, the two of them nodding in agreement.

“I best be going home. My mom will be pissed if she comes home and my brother is by himself,” Johnny informed, leaving the two of us alone on the rooftop. Samantha sauntered over to the edge of the building, leaning her arms on the stone ledge that came up to her chest. I pulled myself on the ledge, letting my legs dangle as I started cleaning my helmet.

“God I’m such an idiot,” Samantha scolded, looking down at the bustling streets below.

“Huh?”

“I just can’t believe how stupid I was, not realizing you were the Paladin. I mean Johnny and I have been following your career since you started, admiring your work. So much so that I felt like I knew you. Least I thought I did,” she explained.

“Don’t feel too stupid, you’re not the first person to get fooled and I hope to God that you’re not the last. Besides, you picked up on it quicker than most,” I chuckled, working the blood out of the grooves with a rag.

“Still… to think that nobody figured it out after a year of you doing this, after all the signs that are there. Must make you feel pretty invisible sometimes,” she figured. I sighed, putting away the polishing rag into my pocket. “You want to talk about it?”

“Not much to talk about, it’s the way I like it.”

“The way you like it?”

“When people care what I’m doing, they tend to ask questions, and when people ask questions I can’t do my job very well. So it’s better this way. Can’t protect the city if I’ve got my dad all up in my personal life, or my mom worrying about what I’m doing with my spare time,” I shrugged off. She didn’t seem convinced, hopping up next to me on the wall.

“Sounds lonely?”

“I don’t like people.”

“Yet you risk life and limb to save them,” she pointed out, showing the holes in my logic.

“Guess I like myself even less than I like people,” I joked. She patted my shoulder, then after a moment of thought got to her feet.

“What do you say to hitting the streets for a bit longer? Johnny never can seem to keep up, but now that I’m with the one and only Paladin…” she teased, offering me a hand. I took it and she pulled me off the ledge.

“You think you can keep up with me?” I asked.

“Let’s see what you got,” she scoffed, jumping off the roof onto the fire escape.