Darkeye #2

[Spider-Man Beyond]

Darkeye #2
Hard Lessons

Written by Aaron Martel (Fan4)
Edited by Daniel Dyer (Spider-Man Beyond)

Gotta admit it, being a private dick isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be.

A lot of times it’s just plain, mind-numbingly boring work. Stakeouts, background checks, phone records…you’d get more action watching paint dry. There’s a lot of dull waiting involved. Waiting for your target to make a move. Waiting for that secret rendezvous. Waiting for the eternal apocalypse. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

So there I was, Jack Randall P.I., waiting outside the home of Dr. Maurice Chaste in my ’03 Volkswagen Jetta at 11pm sipping coffee and bored out of my mind as I had been the past three nights. I’d been hired by Chaste’s wife, Veronica, to snoop on his extracurricular late-night activities, which I’d assumed was a basic cheating husband type deal. But so far he’d behaved properly, going to work during the day and spending his evenings at home in the suburbs of Braughton, my city. No midnight creepings yet.

I had done some fact checking though, and there were some puzzling aspects to this case, mostly concerning money. Maurice Chaste was a prominent laser eye surgeon, yet his bank records showed he had very little money in his accounts. And his home, while nice enough to a poor boy like me, was far too small and well, ordinary for someone of Chaste’s stature. This led me to suspect a couple of things, but I was going to wait on those for a little bit while I was spying on the good doctor.

And finally my sign of the apocalypse appeared. A small car (far too modest again) backed out of the tiny garage and onto the street, turning and heading for the city. I started the Jetta and followed leisurely, keeping him in sight but far enough back to not attract attention. A Jetta’s not the most suspicious-looking vehicle out there, and this late at night traffic was lighter so I could give him some good distance between us. But instead of heading for the East Side of the city like I expected, Chaste’s car was moving towards the West Side, which by all accounts was considered the rough part of town. Braughton is a divided city, underlined by the “ritzy” East Side and the more downtrodden West Side in everything from the state of street repairs to the affluence of its denizens. And Dr. Maurice Chaste would certainly not be mistaken for a West Sider.

Chaste turned toward the docks/warehouse district and I followed. He finally parked in front of a small warehouse set back a ways from the docks themselves, a non-descript, unmarked dull gray building. I parked a few warehouses over and cut the engine. Chaste got out of his car and looked around to see if anyone was watching. He was of medium height and build with thinning dark hair and a goatee. Apparently satisfied no one was spying on him, he scurried to the warehouse door and slipped inside. I got out of my car and crept up to the warehouse door, stopping before actually going in.

I then concentrated and a dark eye-shaped symbol appeared on my chest straight through my clothes as a warm tingling sensation spread through my body. In a few seconds my entire form was enveloped in a powerful energy I refer to as the “Darkeye Force”. I was completely clad in black save for my eyes which glowed white and devoid of pupils. I was now Darkeye, superhero of the shadows.

In my Darkeye form I can pass through solid objects, like a ghost, so I very carefully eased my head through the door Chaste had just passed through to see what was happening inside. People usually don’t look back at the door they came in through, so I figured I would avoid detection. I was in luck. The warehouse was actually a makeshift laboratory, obviously set up by Chaste himself. There was a huge worktable toward the back of the room, plus a few smaller tables and chairs scattered here and there. Sparse. And mostly dark, except for the dim light the overhead warehouse lights cast, which was definitely in my favor. Chaste himself was standing with his back to me at the big worktable and tinkering with something I couldn’t see.

I slipped all the way in through the door and stayed in the shadows. I can merge with shadows so that in darkness I’m completely invisible, a dandy trick if you want to spy on someone. I crept around the room, keeping my eye on Chaste, who was so absorbed in what he was doing he was oblivious to everything around him. I saw all kinds of gadgets and electronic parts lying on the various tables, which made sense since Chaste was known for designing and improving his own laser equipment. This place was obviously where he actually built and tested those designs. I was making my way toward the worktable to better see what he was specifically working on-

Just then the door banged open and three tough looking guys entered the warehouse. Chaste spun around, startled. I immediately recognized one of the toughs as Louie “Spike” Bandelli, one of the captains of the Sanducci family, the major West Side mob. He swaggered in, very pleased to have found Chaste, smiling broadly and chuckling to himself. One of his goons took a position at the door and the other walked behind Bandelli, his backup. Chaste stepped forward away from the worktable to meet him.

“Well, well, well, lookee what I found here,” Bandelli drawled.

Chaste was rattled, sweating profusely. “Mr. Bandelli, I was going to call you but I got a little-”

“Doc, Doc, I unnerstand.” Bandelli was playing it up, sneering. “You’re a very busy man. Hey, I get that. But there’s somethin’ I don’t get, which is you owe me your week’s payment and I ain’t got it yet. This’s a problem, you see.”

“Mr. Bandelli, I promise I’ll have your money-”

“Whoa, whoa! What’s this I’ll have your money shit?” Bandelli was enjoying Chaste’s terrified expression. “You wuz s’posed to have it three days ago. So my boys come to collect it and dey can’t find you? How’s that look to me? What’s that say about me? I’m just a piece of shit you can ignore-”

“No!” Chaste was on the verge of panic. “I’m just- I’m working on something that will make me- us- a ton of money. Please Mr. Bandelli, give me some more time-”

“More time? What kinda business you think I’m runnin’ here?” Bandelli moved in close to Chaste, but neither he nor his thugs had their pieces drawn. I tensed in the shadows, ready to strike if things got more out of hand.

Bandelli grabbed Chaste by the shirt, putting his snarling face inches from Chaste’s. “Listen you @#$%, I don’t like dumb@#$%s like you thinking’ you can hide from me, you’re too good to pay a low-level @#$% like me. Is that whatcha think? IS IT?”

Bandelli punched Chaste hard in the face and the Doctor crumpled to the ground. I nearly sprang forth but Bandelli began to rub his hands and turn his head to the side, apparently trying to settle down. I also relaxed a bit but stayed alert. I wanted to see where this was going.

Bandelli loomed over Chaste, who was cowering and crying pathetically. “All right, Doc. Tell you what. I’m gonna give you forty-eight hours. You give me two payments plus forty percent and we’re square. And don’t you ever make me do this again. Unnerstand?”

Chaste was scrabbling to his feet. “Y-yes. Thank you, Mr. Bandelli-”

“Forty. Eight. Hours.” Bandelli turned and his goons followed him out the door. One of the thugs looked back at Chaste and gave him a cold, humorless grin before departing.

Chaste stood for a few minutes, breathing hard and trying to regain his composure. Then he returned to his worktable. I was crouching right beside him in the shadows. He attempted to resume his work but it was apparent that he was too shaken to get anything productive done. So he left the worktable and shuffled to the warehouse door, turning out the lights before departing.

I let him go. I moved to the worktable to see what Chaste had been working on. There were unfamiliar mechanical instruments and parts strewn all over the table, but in the center there was something that clearly was a weapon of some sort. It resembled one of those laser guns you see in bad science fiction movies. I pointed the gun toward the floor and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

In my mild disappointment I began to feel the fatigue a long night brings so I gave up. I put the gun back on the table and passed through the warehouse wall to return to my car. As I summoned the Darkeye Force back into body I was pretty sure I had everything I needed to satisfy my client and end this case.

***

[Spider-Man Beyond]

Detective Jerome “Tank” Johnson followed the flashing blue lights until he arrived at the crime scene. Brushing past the policemen standing around he came upon the CSI photographer, snapping pictures of a heavy set man-no, check that- a kid lying in the alley with his head sheared cleanly off his shoulders. There was drying blood splattered on the wall behind the body and the head was lying about a yard to the left where it had rolled and stopped. Tank quickly assessed the situation.

“Hey,” he snapped at the cops milling around. “Who found this?”

A young officer who looked to be a rookie stepped forward. “I was first, Sir. Me and Dugan.”

“Where’s Dugan?”

“Right here,” answered an obviously more experienced officer, judging from the doughnut paunch and the receding hairline. “This’s how he was. We didn’t touch ’im.”

“You know ‘im?” Tank inquired.

“Bob-O Walters, local bad boy tryin’ to make a name for himself. Seen ’im around a little. Strictly small time. Runs with a tall, skinny kid, whatsisname-”

“Don’t run with him no more,” Tank interrupted. “Found the other kid coupla nights back. Same M.O.”

Tank inspected the open neck. “This is one helluva clean slice,” he stated. “Whoever did this ain’t small time.”

“How d’ you know?” the rookie asked.

“No jagged edges. Didn’t even hafta bloody ’im up like this. Did it on purpose, send a message.” Tank’s brow furrowed.

“T’ who?” the rookie asked, puzzled.

“Us, but mostly to the street trash,” Tank replied. “Let ’em know who’s boss. Cross us and this’s what you get.”

“You think it coulda been the night guy?” the rookie suggested.

Tank glared at the young officer as if he’d lost his mind. The rookie’s partner, Dugan, cringed in embarrassment.

“No, I don’t think it was the ‘night guy’,” Tank said slowly, staring down the rookie.

“Who coulda done it?” Dugan wondered, trying to steer the conversation in another direction.

Tank’s face darkened. “Don’t know, but it looks like a new player’s in town.”

***

[Spider-Man Beyond]

I spent most of the next day gathering the rest of the information I needed to give my report. In the late afternoon I was sitting in my office absently looking out my window when Veronica Chaste came through the door. She still carried herself in that fragile, mousy manner and took a seat in front of my desk as she had five days before.

“So Mr. Randall,” Veronica said steadily. “I understand you have something for me?”

I slid a manila folder across my desk to her. “This is my report. I’ll give you the basic rundown of what it says.

“Your husband is in serious debt to one of the organized crime families of this city,” I continued. “It seems he has a huge gambling problem and has lost a substantial amount of money to some very bad people. The kind of people who don’t wait around making collection calls on the phone. You were right when you thought you saw gangsters in your home. They were, and they’ve been shaking money from your husband for quite some time.”

“So these… people. You think they mean to hurt Maurice?”

“I think your husband’s in a lot of trouble,” I said, deadly serious. “These men do not accept ’no’ for an answer.”

Veronica dramatically put her hand to her mouth.

I stated, “And those late night disappearances? Your husband has a small warehouse on the other side of town. It’s where he’s been developing his latest laser equipment. My guess is that he’s trying to invent something that will make a lot of money and get you out of this hole you’re in.”

“His hole,” she said flatly.

I looked at her closely. “Right. So it’s not that he’s cheating on you as you suspected.” I didn’t see relief in her eyes at that one.

“Well, Mr. Randall, it appears I no longer have need of your services.” Veronica pulled out a thick white envelope. Paying me in cash.

“Incidentally,” I quipped. “I did find another reason why your finances are in such lousy shape.”

Veronica raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yes. It seems that about a quarter of a million dollars has been diverted from your joint accounts to an account that you own under an assumed name.” I zeroed in on her eyes, watching.

She was starting to crack. “I…I....”

“Here’s what I think,” I put forth. “I think you knew about the gambling and the gangsters. I think you’re getting ready to leave the good doctor and you’ve got your nest egg all prepared. I think you hired me to get the proof you’d need to win a nice divorce settlement. What judge wouldn’t favor the poor wife whose husband is involved with the mob? How’m I doing?”

She gathered herself quickly. “Mr. Randall, thank you for your services. I trust your payment is satisfactory. Good day.” And she bolted up and huffed out of my office.

I didn’t watch her leave this time. I sat in my chair and stared at the envelope with a bad taste in my mouth.

***

[Spider-Man Beyond]

I took my time getting home that night. I ate an awful fast food burger but in truth I wasn’t very hungry. In fact, I wasn’t feeling particularly good about anything that had transpired that day and I needed to sort things out. I knew I really didn’t have any more obligations to the Chastes. Hell, I never even met the doctor. But something about the whole situation made my skin crawl, like I should be doing something about it.

I got back to my apartment about 8 pm, and it was getting dark outside. I checked my messages and there was one from my girlfriend. I’d call her later. I took a long hot shower and tried to wash away the day’s stink off my body and clear my mind. I kept thinking of Maurice Chaste. I wasn’t sure how I felt about him, but I definitely knew he didn’t want to mess with Spike Bandelli. I toweled off, threw some boxers on and plopped on my couch to watch some T.V. Man, T.V. sucks.

I couldn’t take it any longer. I decided to go back to Chaste’s warehouse to see what I could dig up.

***

[Spider-Man Beyond]

Dr. Maurice Chaste knew he was in a lot of trouble.

They’d come for him at home. Just after dark, Bandelli and his thugs. And they took Veronica, too, and stuffed them both into the trunk of their car. Ronnie had bitched at him the whole ride out, saying she knew about the debts and the mobsters and just about everything else. He thought he was protecting her, but she was aware of it all. Swell.

The car stopped. The Chastes were roughly handled from the car and dragged to a building Maurice recognized as his warehouse, the site of the previous night’s confrontation. The goons slammed the door shut and pulled guns on the helpless couple. While one tough kept his gun trained on Maurice, Spike Bandelli himself pistol-whipped Veronica across the face, sending her sprawling to the floor with a horrific scream. Blood streaming from her nose, Veronica was tied to a small wooden chair and gagged with a handkerchief by Bandelli and the other thug. That thug took his former position at the door, while the other still had his gun pointed at Maurice as Bandelli sauntered over.

“Well, Doc, here we are again,” Bandelli had a glint in his eye this time, a glint that chilled Maurice to the bone.

“M-Mr. Bandelli,” Maurice sputtered. “Y-you said I had f-forty-eight-”

“I know what I said you stupid @#$%!” Bandelli was raging, spittle flying from his mouth. “Do you think I’m an asshole, Doc? Do ya? You think I’m gonna let a rich doctor @#$% around with me? Me?” Bandelli pressed the barrel of the gun hard into Maurice’s temple as tears streamed down the doctor’s face.

“N-no, Mr. Bandelli, please-”

“Shut up! No more, please!” Bandelli pulled away from Maurice, lurched toward Veronica and belted her across the face with his pistol . Veronica hung her head, blood pouring from her face.

“Stop!” Maurice was blubbering. “Don’t hurt her, please-”

“What’s it gonna be, Doc? Got my money?” Bandelli was frenzied, like a wild animal.

Maurice whined, “I don’t-”

“Wrong answer!” Bandelli grabbed Veronica by a lock of her hair. Her eyes were wide and panicked, and she was making strangled noises, as if she wanted to tell him something.

“Last chance,” Bandelli hissed, pointing his gun at Veronica’s head. “Either you get my goddamn money, or I blow her brains out, an’ then I blow your brains ou-”

And the goon at the door was yanked backwards off his feet and banged into the door, slumping to the floor. Bandelli whirled in surprise as a black figure leaped through the door itself and ran straight at the second goon, who fired wildly at it. Amazingly, the bullets seemed to pass through the black apparition as it quickly advanced on the thug. As the gun’s chamber emptied off bullets, Darkeye connected with a solid right hand that dropped the thug like a sack of potatoes.

Bandelli stared dumbstruck at the scene, trying to come to grips with what he was witnessing. Darkeye turned and began to approach him when he saw Bandelli’s eyes light up. Spinning around, Darkeye charged at the first goon at the door, who had recovered and was taking aim at the ghostly figure. Shot after shot passed right through Darkeye as he reached the thug and hit him with a devastating punch, knocking him clean out.

Darkeye turned again at the sound of Bandelli rushing at him and screaming like a wounded tiger. Stepping to the side, Darkeye used Bandelli’s momentum to hurl him head-first into the wall, where he flopped to the floor. Bandelli staggered to his feet and prepared to charge again. He froze in his tracks when he heard the deep, unsettling voice of the shadowy being.

“Bandelli,” Darkeye boomed. “I have a message for you.”

“@#$% that!” Bandelli gathered his courage and charged, throwing wild punches in Darkeye’s direction. But the strikes were deftly blocked one by one with the ease of a trained martial artist, and ended with a crushing blow just below the mobster’s chin, sending him down once more.

Darkeye picked up Bandelli by the shirt and threw him into the wall. Grabbing and squeezing Bandelli’s face, Darkeye leaned in close.

“Tell all your buddies, your enemies, and anybody you know,” Darkeye threatened to the terrified gangster’s face. “Tell them if they’re going to play in my town then they’ll have to answer to Darkeye. Go.”

Darkeye released Bandelli’s face and the mob boss wasted no time fleeing the warehouse with one henchman on his heels, leaving the other unconscious one behind. The warehouse was now eerily silent, and Darkeye quickly realized why.

Veronica Chaste had been shot in the chest.

Darkeye rushed to her side, quickly tearing the ropes off her and removing her gag. Her breaths came in gurgling wheezes as she tried to talk, her bloody mouth making the act of speaking difficult. Darkeye strained to hear her fading voice.

“He---he left me…” and Veronica Chaste died.

***

[Spider-Man Beyond]

Darkeye found no sign of Dr. Maurice Chaste anywhere. He had left the warehouse through a secret back door, which was flapping open and shut in the cool night breeze. Darkeye noticed that Chaste had taken the gun he had been designing with him; it was gone from the worktable. Nothing else had apparently been taken.

From the warehouse phone, Darkeye called the Braughton police as an anonymous caller and told them to come to the warehouse where shots were fired. The cops would have their man, as the man who actually killed Veronica Chaste was lying unconscious next to his gun on the warehouse floor. What was he going to say, the night guy got him? Open and shut.

Before departing Darkeye stood in the middle of the warehouse and contemplated the last six days. He felt even worse than he had earlier, and seeing the dead woman slumped in the chair gave him a chill penetrating to his very soul. He had a long way to go with this superhero thing, and as he passed through the warehouse wall and into the night he began to wonder if he was really cut out for this line of work. This case definitely didn’t feel closed.

The end