CHAPTER 4: SHADOW HUNT

The loud clings and clangs of the swords and other ninja weapons sounded thru out the abandoned warehouse which made the current location of the New Foot Clan.  Above were draft cobwebbed rafters and balcony of sorts, overlying the entire compound.  And on this rusty balcony, which connected to a slew of offices, stood in his fierce armor, the Mighty Shredder, watching his Foot Soldiers below.  But the Mighty Shredder is just that; no pretense.  Not even mighty really. Just Shredder.  And below the mask? 

Green skin and one eye dominated the proprietor of the Shredder armor.  Raphael the Ninja Turtle was still the Shredder, leader of the Foot Clan. But not the same Foot Clan.  It had been one full year since the mighty backlash of Cheng, Lady Shredder and the rest of the Foot Clan.  Things seemed to be shaping up for the turtles.  Casey and April were doing better relationship wise, and especially due to the whole ticker-tape Dragon-Slayer parade the city of New York celebrated in his honor.  Splinter, though growing weaker it seemed, was of excellent health.  Leonardo was handling his handicap better.  Donatello was-- 

What was Donatello?  Before he ran away, he was cheerful.  Wasn’t he?  So many thoughts of Donatello went thru the turtlefied Shredder with great loss.  He missed his brother and felt it was his fault.  “What a year this is.” he muttered to himself.

Four months after the upset of the Clan from his grasp, police found bodies all over the place in one of the waste management landfills.  Not the one which was frequent by the Clan, oddly enough.  A couple days earlier, during a night run, he was jumped by Foot Soldiers didn’t make Raphael a happy turtle.  But instead of jump attacking him, they praised his return, and explained of a battle between two Foot Clans. 

Two Clans; one in support of Lady Shredder, the other support for Raphael’s Shredder.  The ones who supported Raph were the ones who survived the attacks by Lady Shredder, and branched off and trained for the return of the one true Shredder.  And they met at a dump.  Long story short, Raph’s Foot Stood victorious.  Surprisingly.  And now, Raphael was Shredder once more after being talked into.  Without the Council’s approval, and no Lady Shredder. 

Who, by the way, is still out and about, probably exacting her revenge.  But, that was then, and this is now.  His Foot has flourished, beyond dreams.  Yet...

As Raphael peered downwards at his ninjas, he felt at a loss.  As if he was now causing future pain and harm to his students, his brothers and anyone else he cared for.  And make no mistake, the Foot... the Foot Soldiers that lay before him that is, were all family.  They have grown close, and they respected him as a father figure.  Something that Raph never really thought about before.  Actually there was a time.  It made him feel something he never felt before; as if all the anger in the world was gone and none ever existed within his plastron and shell. And that was when he held Shadow for the first time.   He felt like a father.  But soon, he realized it was something he’d never hold.  Again. And not feel the same way.  Raphael had changed since then.  He wasn’t the good old Raphael everyone liked.  He was worse than he was before. He was being careless, making imprudent decisions.  And now he had been paying for them recently.  He felt remotely responsible for the whole Foot attack against Shadow, and for risking the life of Splinter. 

Splinter.  Someone who Raphael cared for in no way imagined.  A way, that he never tried to show, or really did show around his brothers.  Nor April and definitely not Casey.  He was the only person in his life he would cry about.  No. Shadow was included.  She gave him that feeling no one else could.  That Joy of being a Father. 

“Master Shredder.”

Shredder turned his head at the Soldier.  the Soldier bowed and stood back up.  “Yes?” Raphael’s voice was no longer normal.  It was deep. Menacing. 

“We have someone. A job proposition, perhaps.”

“I will go to my office.  Tell him to meet me there.”

“Very well Master.”

The Shredder looked at the Soldier who bowed and jumped off the balcony and vanished in the haze of Foot training.  Revolving left, he walked, his footsteps rumbling through out the warehouse.  Finally reaching the office, he opened the door and walked towards the shutters covering the window.  He swirled the plastic stick and looked outside the blinds. 

The Moonlight glimmered across his armor, yet not revealing his face.  Still he remained, looking up at the dark sky above, the ambient light making the stars out of sight.  “Master Shredder.  Jimmy the Kid, cousin of the Puzorellis is here.”  The Shredder remained still at the hearing of the word ‘Puzorelli’.

The door closed.

“So. Mista Shredda.  I thought you were killed.”

The Shredder turned.  “It’s Shredder. Not Shredd-ah.” he hissed.  Jimmy gulped as he looked into the blackness which was that his face.  Only the metal was the only thing that the visual eye could see.  “And rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”

The Shredder walked around, and slammed his fist sideways, knocking off the lightless lamp on the side of the table, sending it against the wall shattering.  “What... are you doing here boy?” the dark voice scowled. 

“I am here to take care of some business. Seems a while back, during your abcense, my uncle hired you. You did your job, and did it well. Now Master Shredder, I come here to take care of the job they could not. To reunite family.” Jimmy calmly said.  But his calm turned into distress for he looked for some sign of emotion from the Shredder.  Nothing.  Cold. Lifeless almost.  The armor helmet covered his face, and the shadows gave away to his imagination.  Finally the Shredder spoke.

“This is not a matter that I nor my Foot Clan will participate in.”

“What? Come on, I mean I was told this was a sure thing--”

The Shredder once again slammed his first, but into the table, the cracking sound of the wood reverberating in Jimmy‘s mind. “SILENCE!!!” The Shredder turned away, motioning away the pest.   “We have muddled in your affairs once too many. Besides, now is the time of abundance for my Foot. ”

“Fuck your abundance for your Feet, buddy.  I am here to get a fucking girl back--”  Jimmy never saw the hand coming, as it grabbed his neck.  He felt the metal near his skin around his neck.  Jimmy began to shake, his lips quivering.  “Hey... it’s cool!! It’s cool! It was a joke!”

The point of the claws of his right hand rose right to his cheek.  He felt the cold point.  “Perhaps,” the voice bellowed fiercely, “you ought to think about the words you choose more wisely.  You may live longer next time, ingrate!!!”

The Shredder let go of the hoodlum, and he adjusted his suit.  Jimmy reached for the door, finally adjusted and then turned.  “You may scare me, but... the Puzorelli family will remember such trifles.”

And the door closed.

CHAPTER 5: SHADOW

The night air was crisp.  But he had gotten used to it.  He had been alone now for quite some time.  No food. No water.  Yet still he remained strong.  The ultimate survivor.  If they only knew, he thought to himself.  As one more inhaled breath whizzed passed his lips, continuing by him exhaling, the figure was huge, big in brawn, but small in size.  And he whisked himself away upon the rooftops of the city below.  Hopping from each roof, as if Spider-man. 

Across the way, the figure was being watched. 

“HAI-AHH!!!” the turtle screamed, thrusting his punch forward.  The opponent, the stump for a hand turtle,
Leonardo parried, and then dodged by jumping back, Michelangelo's feet barely missing him.  Michelangelo was becoming more aggressive with each thrust, and finally Leonardo jumped in the air jump kicking, but not directly at Michelangelo.  Easily, Michelangelo dodged it, by easily stepping aside. Yet in doing so, he wasn’t as quick to turn around to face his opponent, as he glanced at the wise rat.

“Hai!” Instead he chuckled to himself at his master‘s small joke, when the blow came from behind.  Michelangelo never remembered being flipped right onto his shell with a loud and thunderous “CRACK!”

“Ouch!” was the turtle’s only reply from the ground. 

Leonardo grimaced as he walked away, going for a towel.  Splinter instead walked up, as Michelangelo tried to regain some form of composure.  The now weary turtle glanced upwards at his sensei.

“Spending more time with your books of fiction, and goofing off, will cause danger to not only you, but your brothers as well.” the wise sensei  spoke.

“Aw but come on, Master! This is just a spar--”

“Exactly.”  the rat commanded attention to himself, the staff hitting the ground.  Michelangelo was now standing up, but hanging his head, holding his back.   “When you spar, focus your attention enough to not hurt your opponent, but disarm them until further instruction is given! Imagine this is a fight to the death, where you do not take your eyes off your enemy for a moment!”

Michelangelo grumbling to himself, walked over towards the couch and TV.  Splinter watching him trod off sighed, then turning around to Leonardo, who was... apparently waiting there.  For what, Splinter seemed to know. 

“Excellent Leonardo.”  Splinter said, slowly walking about to his chair.   In the relm of the living room of the lair, he could hear a mockingly “Excellent Leonardo.”  His old bones rested into the chair, and Leonardo walked up, handing his sweaty brother a fresh towel.  Mike did not accept it.  The towel whisked by him and landed next to him on the couch.  Splinter intervined before something began.  “So. How goes the search for Donatello? Any trace of your brother, yet?”

“No luck.” Leonardo grumbled.  “Eh, well, Raph still has the Foot looking for him. Me and Mike can’t find anything. April is going by any reports of people calling anything in, but so far nothing. We’re back out tonight as usual.”

The rat, picking up a cup of tea which was sitting on the table as he arrived to his chair, looked at Leonardo and Michelangelo.  “Donatello has gone thru many changes Leonardo. We must give him time to find himself.”

Leonardo looking back, protested in his eyes, but also tone of voice; “Yes Master, but he has been gone for many months now. ”

Sipping the tear from the cup, the rat looked peacefully at his most eager student.  “The search for self-discovery begins from within. If Donatello seeks solitude, and seeks it not within these walls, then so be it.”

Maybe he was right.  But either way, Leonardo missed his brother.  He wanted to apologize. He knew Raph and Mike did too.  Though it was mostly Raph’s fault. Saying all those nasty things.  As Mike handed him the channel changer exchaning a ‘no harm, no foul’ look, in typical Mike fashion, sporty a goofy grin, Leo smiled, but the smile on his beak slowly dimmed as under his breath he mumbled.. “Donnie... where are you?”

The figure paused.  The star and moon beams shining down upon his metal skin, Donatello then continued to run.  Trying to reach some unattainable goal.  But as he continued to run, the reason he stopped moments ago were making sense.  He was picking up a sound from behind. Donatello froze once more.  His hand was no longer a three-finger hand.  Only the shadow of a large gun was seen in the distance.  “The Foot?” the turtle hissed, looking around.  Apparently scanning around with his mechanical eye.

“Easy there!!” a voice cried off. 

Donatello’s sensors picked up life signals, a heartbeat, but it was faint.  But he didn’t sense any heat sensors.  How odd, he said to himself.  Donatello regained some form of composure. And finally, looking into the darkness as a light hit his face, Donatello stepped back, his mouth gaping to some extent in awe.

Before him stood a man glistening just as he was; metal or plastic, he nor his sensors could tell not which he was exactly, but Donatello didn’t know whether to feel scared or to feel joy for knowing someone out there is like him.  Donatello knew there were more cyborgs out there.  He knows for sure.  Somehow his running and looking around for leads on such a thing have been futile.

“Sorry If I scared you like that.  I have seen you around and about up here for many nights.  Off and on.  Is something troubling you?”  the metal humanoid as Donatello thought him as smiled and seemed peaceful.

The turtle scanned him down with his eye, and then stepped back.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” he responded, and yet, the turtle felt as if he was true.  He was someone who was different.  Someone that had something in common with him.  Unlike his brothers... he wasn’t like them anymore.  He was a minority of a minority of a minority.  And now he felt he found someone like him.

“I am Donatello.” he said, reaching his three fingered hand out.  The Metal Humanoid smiled, and did the same. 

“I’m Canyon.” he replied.

And they shook hands.

The door opened and Raphael came running in. 

“What now.”  Leonardo muttered.

“Its... I think we have a lead.”

“You found Donnie?!”

“No-”

“A clue to Donnie?” Michelangelo said, joining in.

“No!!” Raphael tried to grasp the ability in his lungs to catch his breath.  Leaning over, he looked up at Leo.  

The phone rang.

Mike and Leo looked at each other and then at Raph.  Neither of them going up to get it, Mike stood up and walked over to the phone.  Mike went to grab it, and before he could pick it up, it stopped. 

“What is it, Mike?” Leo asked, becoming ill of the run-around he felt his brother was putting them thru.

“It’s... it’s about--”

“Shadow.” the voice from the back of the lair answered.  And Splinter slowly and gently walked over, holding the cordless in his hand.

“What?!” Leonardo turned in disbelief.  The nightmare was happening all over again.  Behind him, Michelangelo felt the same way.

“Was that it, my son?” Splinter said, hesitantly.

“Yes...”

“What?! The foot took her again!! Didn’t they!”

“No! One of these mob goons came up to the Foot asking for help in assisting them find Shadow again!!”

Leo hissed at Raphael, “You turned the offer down, didn’t you Raph?? SAY you turned it down!!”

“Yes! Of course I did! His name is Jimmy the Kid!! He thinks that we’ll help him get Shadow, but I declined all help! I wanted to get together, and get a plan together so we can be one step ahead of--”

“Shadow... has been kidnapped. Again.”   Leonardo’s eyes began to fill with fury as he looked down, trying to not gaze at Raphael, as the wise rat continued.  “ Someone came in, attacked April, took Shadow and then ran.”

“Oh Jesus, that fucking punk! He hit April?!” Raphael screamed.

“Look at what you have done, Raph!”

“Whoa- don’t you start, not now--” Mike noticed Raph was being sincere.  Maybe Raph did have something to do with it.  Stranger things have happened.  Leo lost his hand. Raph WAS Shredder and Don.. was a cyborg.  But... he knew Raph well enough. Not to help with the kidnapping of Shadow.  And he looked like he didn’t wanna fight.  For once. 

“This is what your stupidity does to us, Raphael!!!”

Mike sighed as he saw Raphael‘s mind snap into a retaliation.  “Hold on, my stupidity? Who is it that jumped right into a big put of hand thirsty komodo dragons? Not I!!!”

“You know for a fact that we are on not so great terms with the Foot. Specially when they kidnapped Shadow the first time!!!”

“I wasn’t involved with--” Raph tried to declare.

“Bullshit Raphael!!! You also knew that they tried to kill you even. They aren’t even loyal to you as the Shredder!!! You are very lucky that Lady Shredder just happens to disappear, and that your ninja ‘followers’ happen to win the battle, that you nor whoever the hell Lady Shredder is, attend or even know about. ”

Michelangelo not wanting to see another fight, walked towards Master Splinter, hoping he’d end the fight.  Yet, not saying a word, he stood behind him, hands resting on the sides of his plastron.  Watching. Waiting; as the fight continued.

“I fucking turned that screw up down Leo!!! I had nothing to do with this!!!” he exclaimed.  “You know what, I really don’t need this right now Leo. I really don’t.  You act like I don’t even care about Shadow! I LOVE Shadow!!! I wouldn’t do anything to harm her or her mother and father!!!” as he yelled at the top of his lungs, he needed a button to press.  He was too angry.  Too pissed. How dare he fucking tell me I caused this, he thought to himself.  Then.... in a mode of anger, without thought or reasoning behind his words... out it came in a low grumble.

“Maybe that Komodo forgot to eat the rest of you...”

“Shouldn’t you say something, sensei?” Mike quietly asked.  Splinter did not respond.  Quietly he stood there, watching on.

“I am getting so sick of you undermining everything and everyone around here, Raphael!” Leonardo pressed his finger into Raph’s upper torso-plastron.  Raph did the same, back to him.

“Undermining?! What the hell!! I think you need to take a rain check!”

“And what about you, and  your god damn rain checks?” Leonardo hissed, “Did we forget that Donatello would still be here right now with us, if you hadn’t told him off, saying we didn’t need him!! Cos of your smart-ass comment, he has been missing for months!”

“Oh yea, it‘s all my fault.” he mocked. “We all had a part in it , Leo-nard-do.” Raph shot back. “Even...you.” Raphael turned.

“Why...” Raphael felt his shoulder behind grabbed by Leonardo’s hand, “...don’t you just...” the backdrop did a flip, and the pain in his back was real.  He was now looking at Leonardo, who was holding him down with his stump, and was holding his sword at his only good eye..  “DIE!!!”

Mike turning, like a small child, pulls lightly on Splinter’s komodo and begs.  “Please... stop this Sensei..!”

“Leo! You’re offly close with that katana there, doncha think?” Raphael was scared.  Mike was getting nervous.  “Come on man, I’m sorry.  See? I said I was sorry.  Okay? Sorry, al’ight?” Raphael was still, his hands grasping the floor.  “Leo... come on.. we gotta get a hold of each other.  We gotta band together and find-”

“No, you shut up!!! I am the leader!”

“Okay! I know you are!”

“You are always undermining my authority, and I am tired of it!! You will do what I say! And you will die!”

“But Leo...”

Mike felt at odds.  He looked back at Splinter, as he walked forward a bit.  Still, he was silent. Residual.  Watching the matter before him fold. 

“It’s the only way now, Raph! You won’t listen to me--”

“LEONARDO!” Leonardo felt the sword drop from his hands, as he was body slammed against the sewer brick wall.  He struggled, but Michelangelo was using all the strength he could muster to hold him vigil.

Raphael, looking up, his head risen slightly, laid his head back, and gasped for air.  The event scared him. 

“Let go of me!!!” the turtle screamed.  “I said--” Leonardo fell to the floor, holding his lower plastron, as Mike moved his kneecap from it. 

“Damn it, Leo! What the hell happened to you!!”

Leonardo, grasping the dirt and sludge from the bottom of the lair floor, he looked up.  Tears began to flow from his eyes, as he realized what he had done.  “Oh god...” he whispered, as he sobbed.  Mike sighed in relief, as he looked back at Raphael.

Raphael was standing up now, adjusting his eye patch, and making sure the sword didn’t knick him anywhere.  He started walking away...

“I’m sorry... Raph..” came the voice.  Raphael peered back at Leonardo.

“I am not going to take this.  Not from you. Not now.  I am going to get the Foot on this.  Right Away, might I add. And You... just keep looking for Donatello.  We have two loved ones out and about.”  Raphael looked at him, trying to show signs of sympathy, but... none could surface.  He remembered that day with Michelangelo... so long ago.  The memory quickly faded, and he exited the lair.

Michelangelo peered at Splinter.  Splinter, looked dowards at Leonardo.  The look was so blank, so vigil, so quiet, that not one could notice if it was in disgrace, joy, sadness, jealousy. Any emotion known could not be told from his expression.   Either way, Michelangelo was displeased with his master. His sensei.  Walking past him, he turned his head a bit, making sure he caught wind of it.  “Since I am the only one around here anymore that can handle situations--” Mike sighed, “Splinter.. you and me will head on over to April and Casey’s, and you will keep April company, while me and Casey, unless Case-man chooses not to come, will look for Shadow.”

“What about me?” Leonardo replied, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“You??  You will look for Donatello. And you will call in to April and Splinter every couple hours, incase any new information shows up at the apartment. You understand?” Leonardo felt like a small child by this ruling, but he knew he was the one that was dishonorable.

“Yes, Michelangelo.”

CHAPTER 6: MAZZELLO

The room was covered in blood.  The stench about gagged her as she tried stepping close to the severed head.  FBI Special Agent Margaret Mazzello pushed back her curly black hair and covered her mouth with her hand.  Before her feet, face down, was the head of Ed Farley, only living brother and leader of the Farley Brothers Gang.  Turning around, she motioned for the other agents to come in.  Swarming in around her, she walked out of the room of the small apartment building off the Jersey Turnpike. 

Never before has she seen such slaughter.  Not even in school.  Sure.  One person. Slain.  And true, it’s a horrifying sight.  But ten members.  The entire gang was slaughtered like cows in a butcher shop.  But there was signs of the butcher.  To her, though as violent as it was, it was a sign.  A sign of what? That is the question.

Margaret has proven her worth over the years in the FBI.  As her and her team began looking around the room for prints and any other clues, she remembered her first case.  A man’s bowels were cut out, and splattered across the room.  A Homicidal maniac, an ex-painter, deciding his next opus was this guy’s stomach on a wall.  Though it was disgusting... and it was, the crime was an open and shut case.  The guy was a professional in every sense but one; for he wore gloves, removed any note that he was even in the room.  But, in the man’s fingernails laid the evidence.  During the struggle for the masterpiece to take place; the Maniac’s plan was simple.  Intrude, Tie up his ‘paints’ and thus, dip the brush in and begin his work.  But... of course... if you are fighting for your life, struggle ensues.  And thought the killer had gloves on, thus removing prints, the victim grabbed the back of the neck, and his nails dug into the skin.  The only evidence against the man.  And how did they find the murderer?  It was simple really.  Any artist’s dream is to have their own work read, watched or studied.  A painter, even a crazy bloodthirsty one, is no exception. 

“Marge, Farley has been here for over a week.”

Margaret snapped out of her past, like a bad dream almost, but serene.  Looking back at Tommy, she walked over.  “Jesus... a week?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s today’s date?  Christmas Eve, right?”

“No that’s tomorrow.  It’s the twenty-third.” she muttered to him, “What was the suggested time of death you think?”

“I’d say Friday December seventeenth.  Maybe around four a.m.”

“Christ.”  turning around, another agent greeted her, in a full blown suit and trenchcoat and shades.  As if every FBI Agent in a movie we see has popped to life.  “What do you got?”

“Okay.  We got our people at every stretch in this building.  We’re still getting word back.  They’re still going over the original police reports they took before we came in back at the office.”

“Nice.” she seemed displeased. No new information for her.  She paused, hitting the agent in the chest. “So clue me in.  What the fuck happened her. Why didn’t they find this sooner?”

“Police reports from what I know, it’s still coming in-”

“Tell me what you know.”

“Very well.  Last week or so, there has been this bad smell, and no one could tell where the stench was coming from, even the neighbors.  But then, people stopped seeing Farley, nor any of the members of his gang.”

“Wait, they knew he was in the gang? That doesn’t make any sense on why they’d never report--”

“Fuck that, Mazzello.  He was rutheless. He had these people fucking pissing their pants when he walked by, being polite saying hello.”

“Gotcha.”

“Right, so one of the neighbors called the super, super opened the door, smelled the apparent decayign bodies, and walked past the front door and bickety bamm.  Called the cops, cops came over.  Since it’s your case and the FBI’s case, they had no jurisdiction and left. We came in.  So here we are now.”

“Okay.  Well tell the boys to begin searching for some more clues.”

“Well we’re already doing that.” he snapped back.  “Anything in particular?”

“Okay. Well James Russo died October 12th, and Drew Graves and his wife’s car was found ripped apart and ablaze outside New York.  No bodies found, but both presumed dead, due to the heavy loss of blood, and there were three kinds of blood there. One was figured to be the girl, the other Drew.  The other’s source was found a mile or so down the road.  Not much left of him though.”

“Yeah.  Wasn’t that Bruno--?”

“Yes.  Burno Laird.  One of the big guys for Farley here. Known as the Reckless Enforcer.”

“An animal got him or something..?”

“No.  Not at all.  Have of his body was cindered.  Ash.  The other half found, was severed.  Quite grusome.”

“No shit.”

“But all this means that Farley came for Graves.  We already know that Russo was working with them, not by choice. We still don’t know what they had on him, but whatever it was, it was enough to scare him into working with them.  I figure typical fear of being a mob boss, like the tenants.”

“Yeah.”

“But what of the assistant?” she puzzeled aloud.  “No trace of him or his wife, besides their blood and their car.  The footprints we found in the snow were that matching his, but disappeared. He traveled by the road.  But no trace of him.” She looked down at an arm, with at the end, a joint and shoulder blade, seemingly scattered by flesh.  Kirby Eastman;  Not much left of him either, she thought.

“Farley probably attacked him, blew the car up with his boys, killed Katlin, shot Drew, and then Drew tried to escape by road.  Farley saw this, killed him on the road, or hit him, hence no trail of blood.  Picked up the bodies and left Bruno for clean up.”

Margaret and the agent walked outside, as he pulled out a smoke. Offereing her, she declined and reached for some bubblegum, slipping in a piece in her mouth.  Savoring each taste as the hypothesis continued.  “But someone came back, and took care of Bruno.”

“But what third party?  The Altecians?”

“Maybe.”

The Altecians.  A Russian group of terrorists.  Mostly their trade is computer software, but they also deal in drugs.  It’d be strange that the Altecians would have much to do with these homicides.  But, in the crime business, enemies can be your closest friends.  For all Mazzello knew, a deal went down south, and the Altecians responded.  But why?  What was there to gain?  What was there to lose?  The Farley Brothers Gang was simple, not complex like Puzorelli or any of the other gangs out there. Small time.  Maybe they got under their own heads.  Some small crime syndicates do that. 

As the agent flicked his butt away, Mazzello looked at the night.  The stars shone brightly.  Chewing her gum, the sugars and flavor depleted, she turned and re-entered the building.  Walking down the hall, it was still flooded with agents, yellow tape, and cops standing guard at the stairwells and doorway to the apartment.  As she walked past the guard at the door, she flashed her FBI badge, and continued walking into the room.  Tommy instantly came up to her.

“I see your friend is gone.”

“Crichton is an asshole at times. But he got me up to date.  So what now do you have?”

“Well... a book of contacts.”

“Interesting.”

“Yes.  And this could be the thing we may need to bring some of these guys down.”

“How so. There is evidence of these guys--”

“One way;  There is a hitman of sorts.  You’ve traced him before.”

“Marcus??”

“Yeah.”

Brody Marcus was eighteen when he began his job as a hitman.  Was considered a special student in the army.  Immediately to make his mark, he became a lackey for any syndicate or person that’d hire him.  Professionally at business deals, even working at one point with the government, heading off security.  Marcus, now twenty-four, seemed untouchable and had been tainted in getting security jobs.  Some rumor that he finally had hit college.  But no true evidence could be found and substantiated, making it hard to find his ware bouts for question, thus making it impossible to possibly  prove anything against him.

“But, you never know.  If this is all connected, the whole Graves, Russo murders... then I take it Marcus and whoever else in this book may be next in line.  Someone is getting vengeance, maybe?”

Great. Just fucking great.” She popped another stick of gum in her mouth, chewing charismatically, “I want him found.  We need to question the son of a bitch this time.  No ifs ands, or buts.  I am tired of passing this guy up. We’re going to get to the fucking bottom of this shit.”  Margaret left the room, grabbing her coat.

|| Chapters 1-3 || Chapters 7-9 ||

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