Episode 013

                “If you run, you’ll just die tired.”
                                Sniper motto

                Eli quickly stuffed his rifle back into the bag. He had seen the black and red figure dart across the street. He had seen the way he ran, the gun that was in his hand. He had seen the way he reacted to the shooting, the way his eyes had moved.

He knew a knight when he saw one.

                Eli threw the gun bag over his shoulder and began to bound down the long progression of narrow stairs that spiraled down the tall university bell tower. The concrete walls echoed his hasty steps as he rushed towards the distant, bottom floor and the elusive exit.

                Ledger vaulted over the grass fence that lined the courtyard of the bell tower, dodging past the supposed hedge maze. He leapt up onto the giant platform around the bell tower, the shotgun held ready. He rushed to the metal door on the rear side of the bell tower, the gun cold in his hand.

                The door opened.

                “Bang.”

                Tim froze; the rough, sawed barrel of the shotgun was cold against his temple. “You’re dead.” Ledger said, his small eyes narrowed at the student.

                “You’ve got the wrong guy.” Tim said, his voice shaking in fear. “I’m not the . . the sniper.”

                “Uh-huh.” Ledger said, moving carefully behind Tim.

                “He was just here, I . . . I think. He was.” Tim pleaded. “I, I saw the shooting and I ran over here and saw the door was open. I ran, ran inside to see who it was and, and, and . . .”

                “Shut up.” Ledger said, jamming his shotgun harder into Tim’s head. He took his cell phone out of his pocket and held it to his ear. He hit one button, the phone beginning to dial on it’s own.

                “Everett.” Came the voice.

                “Ev.” Ledger said into the phone. “I got this guy coming out of the bell tower. Says he’s not the . . .”

                “Ledger?” Everett yelled into the phone. Before him, Roland and Armand watched in concern. “Ledger?! Ledger!” The knight looked up at the two, fear filling him. “It just went dead.” He said. He took a breath, and his eyes went wide. “The clock tower!”

                The three were off.

                Victor grabbed the shotgun as Ledger crumpled from the hard kick to the back of his leg. “Now.” Victor said triumphantly, pointing the gun down at the knight. “It seems the World Alliance has it’s first successful arrest.”

                “Right.” Ledger said sarcastically from the ground.

                His hands and knees on the ground, he lunged backward with his right leg, kicking Victor’s leg out from underneath him. The student fell down from the impact, dropping the shotgun as he fell. Ledger stood up, as Tim rushed at him.

                Ledger let Tim tackle into him, grabbing his neck with his left arm. Lifting up, Ledger brought his hard forearm into Tim’s neck, choking him instantly.

                “Let him go.” Victor said, his hands held in his kung fu stance. “Let him go now or else.”

                “Or else?” Ledger said, glaring at Victor. “He’s the damn sniper, you idiot.” Ledger’s mouth twisted in a small smile. “And besides?” He asked. “Or else what?”

                Tim suddenly jammed his fist up between the knight’s legs, slamming his hand right into Ledger’s groin. Ledger shouted in pain, but he choked down on his hold even harder.

                “Let him go!” Victor yelled, jumping at the knight. He grabbed Ledger’s arms and tried to pry them free of their hold. But Ledger held tight, his arms holding like bars of iron. Ledger threw his right arm around, slamming his fist into Victor’s chest, knocking the student back away from him.

                Tim grabbed Ledger’s leg with his hands, lifting up. The thin student was able to lift Ledger off his feet, but only a few inches. The inches were enough to topple him, though and the two went crashing down to the pavement.

                Victor rushed over to Ledger, swinging his leg to kick him in the stomach. Ledger moved too quickly, though, and rolled into Victor’s leg before it could gain momentum. With a sudden forward thrust, Ledger knocked Victor back, knocking him down to the ground.

                Tim came up, but Ledger spun around on his shoulder, his legs flaring out wide. Spinning like twin flails, his feet swung hard, slamming into the back of Tim’s legs, knocking him to the ground.

Victor was up first, but Ledger was right behind him. Victor threw a fast punch at the knight, but Ledger narrowly redirected the punch and landed a hard blow right to below Victor’s throat. He let his arm crumple in, slamming his elbow into Victor’s solar plexus, then he hinged his arm at the elbow, slamming the back of his fist straight up and into Victor’s nose.

Ledger whirled around from the toppled Victor to face Tim. But the other fighter was nowhere around. The knight quickly searched the grass maze, but there was no sight of any movement. “Damn.” Ledger cursed, as he grabbed his fallen shotgun.

Victor found his way through the pain to get up to his knees. He panted hard, blooding come from both his mouth and nose. But as his breathing slowed, he heard a step. And then, he felt the rough edge of a sawed barrel against his temple. He looked up, to see Ledger, with his shotgun aimed right at his head.

                “If you ever interfere with me, or any other knight again, you will not live long enough to regret it.” Ledger then stepped forward just a few scant inches, the motion bringing the gun harder into Victor’s temple. “Know this. You live by the mercy of others.”

                “This way!” Everett yelled as the three knights raced towards the clock tower. But as soon as they were within sight of the large grass maze, they saw the black and red figure of Ledger coming up the hill, his shotgun cradled in his arm to try and hide it.

                The three came to a stop, gathering around the fourth knight. “What happened?” Roland asked immediately.

                “I missed the sniper.” Ledger said, holding his groin delicately. “Two guys jumped me, because I thought one of them was the sniper.”

                “Where are they?” Everett asked, looking past Ledger.

                “One ran. The other’s back there.” He said, thumbing over his shoulder. Everett moved to head past Ledger, but the knight put his hand on the leader’s shoulder, stopping him. “Leave him alone, man. He’s had his lesson for today.”

                “He might know something.” Armand said adamantly.

                “He doesn’t.” Ledger said. “He’s just a good Samaritan or something trying to help out. He doesn’t know a damn thing, least of all how to fight.”

                Malcolm stood by Edgar, the two watching as the bodies were taken into the ambulances, the black bags reflecting almost no sun. In silence, they ignored the wail of the sirens that sounded off, carrying the bodies away from the crime scene.

                “Two shootings.” Malcolm said, sighing.

                “Three dead.” Edgar added. He turned from the student, looking down the street at the gathered crowd. “I wonder how many more?”

                “If the World Alliance has anything to say, none.” Malcolm said softly, his eyes blazing with intensity.

                “Why only two?” Edgar asked, looking past the crowd, scanning the city beyond them. “Why not more?”

                “The operation went successfully.” Eli said slowly into his phone. “Two dead. The death total is three.”

                “Excellent.” Jericho nodded, sitting back with a successful smile on his face. Alone in his office, the speakerphone’s voice resounded through the room. “Were there any complications?” Jericho asked, sounding as if he already knew the answer.

                “Some, but nothing that I wasn’t able to handle.” Eli answered slowly.

                “Good.” Jericho nodded. He turned from the phone, looking out the window. “Now, tell me. Are you prepared for the next stage of the operation?”

                Silence.

                “Are you?” Jericho asked, turning a pen around in his hands.

                Silence.

                Jericho turned his chair around, looking at the speakerphone. “Eli? Are you?”

                “Yes sir.” Eli’s voice came hesitantly.

                “You sounded hesitant.” Jericho said, sitting back in his leather chair. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

                “No sir.” Eli said again, his voice hollow and nearly emotionless.

                “A club owner.” Morgan said, staring at his television screen as the muted report scrolled by once again. “A mother. And two college students.”

                He turned from the television; to a large map he had hung over a board in his living room. Four tacks were placed in seemingly random locations around the room. “One. One. Two.” He scratched under his chin. “The next one will be three, irregardless.” He glanced over the map, his eyes uncertain. “But then, will the next be four, or five? And then, will the next one be five, seven, or eight?”

                He stepped back from the map, staring at the bright tacks that glared at him from the near-monochromatic map. “Where are you shooting from?” Morgan asked to himself, his voice barely a whisper. “A club, a forest, and a clock tower.”

                Morgan wrapped his arms over his chest, thinking. He shook his head. “I just don’t get it.”

                But he kept staring.