Thus came the day for the trial. It was difficult to obtain live reports about the details of the court case since it wasn’t televised. But Jalen spotted the police convoy transporting the mobsters in the early hours of the morning, a day before the trial date. There were no worries on his part. What happened in the court was of no importance.

A week later, the grand jury reached the verdict. Declan “The Fixer” O’Malley, Nikolai Ivanov, Sean “Shamrock” Murphy, and Finnegan Callahan were all found guilty of violating the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act (RICO). They were convicted for participating in a criminal conspiracy, committing acts of extortion, illegal gambling, drug trafficking, money laundering, homicide, and other predicate offenses.

Wow, these guys have clearly been busy.

He shifted into position. Despite not expecting them to be transported during the day, he prepared himself regardless. Hours after midnight, from his high vantage point on a bridge, which overlooked the high court, he spotted three armored vans, escorted by motorcycle units.

It’s time.

He leaped over the bridge ledge and shot into the sky in his god form. From thousands of feet in the sky, he trailed the armored convoy zooming down Cooper Street, past a few city blocks. They obviously planned on connecting to the highway and heading up east, to Hermosville. This unfolding of events, Jalen approved. If they headed anywhere else, he would have reacted, but why act unnecessarily when they headed where he wanted them? Overall, the convoy followed along a predictable path, so he flew ahead to scope a suitable ambush spot. That done, he headed back, giving the roads a wide berth as he banked behind the convoy.

When the time was right, he descended, creeping up on the unsuspecting convoy. The golden glow of his eyes intensified and set forth two beams of cosmic energy. His beams easily tore through the motorcycles, parting the men from their vehicles. One after the other, they tossed and tumbled on the road, some even spilling off the road into the sandy sides.

By now, the armored vans were alert and fleeing at their top speed. One peeled off to the right, down a dirt road. He ignored it and grabbed onto the rear bumper of the following van, then flipped it onto its side. The lead van followed the same fate not long after as the vans screeched and scraped on the asphalt surface, a shower of fiery sparks left in their wake. With two vans immobilized, he shot off towards the last van, finding it not too far gone. He slammed into the dirt road ahead of the van.

Through the bulletproof windshield of the van, he could see the panicked look on the driver’s face as he slammed on the accelerator.

Wrong choice.

The van smashed full speed into his towering form; metal and plastics, wrapping around him like decorative packaging. The driver and his accompanying officer turned into mush in the process, their bodies unrecognizable after the ordeal. He could only hope his targets survived in the back of the van if they were there. Alas, he grabbed onto the disfigured van’s belly and carried it into the air.

The officers at the other scene struggled out of their vehicles, rifles and pistols in their clutches. Down the road, the motorcycle officers walked towards the vans with labored steps, some hindered by their injuries.

He flew into their view, levitating a few inches off the ground, and placed the van down. “Two options are open to you all. You can either lay down your weapons and surrender or die fighting.”

The officers retained their weapons, glancing at one another. He sighed. Any more time wasted here meant more law enforcement to deal with.

“Who is in charge?” he asked.

The darting eyes of the officers gave the man away, as almost all of them looked at him. He was an older man with a full head of white hair, still looking as rugged and as fit as any of them.

Jalen addressed him. “Tell your men to surrender.”

The man glared at him, his grip on his pistol tightening. “This ain’t gonna end well for you, son. You may have us cornered now, but don’t think Metal Shadow ain’t comin’ to grind you into the dirt and hand over your remains to us. So here’s whatcha gonna do, son. Stand down and turn yourself in, if you know what’s good for you.”

He floated over to the man and picked him up, careful not to kill the mortal, but still applying enough pressure to make breathing difficult. The surrounding officers leveled their guns at him. Behind a capsized van, one officer concealed himself and attempted to make contact via radio. He put that to rest, melting the radio in the officer’s hand with one blast of his beams. The others got the message as they watched their fellow officer roll around screaming, with molten metal on his arm.

“I can see you do not fear death,” he said to the man he held. “But your men do. There is no need for unnecessary bloodshed. Tell them to stand down.”

“Sergeant, I say we test him to see if he bleeds!” One of them exclaimed. And it seemed the rest agreed.

The sergeant, grunting from the discomfort, took one hard look at his men. “Lay your weapons, officers. This ain’t a fight we can win.” Then he scowled at Jalen. “This isn’t over, sonofabitch. You had your chance, and ya blew it.”

Jalen, undisturbed, made them handcuff themselves, his keen sight watching for any sly tricks. Then, they sat in a line, shoulder to shoulder. He destroyed all their radios and body cameras. Afterward, he opened and emptied the vans. The heavily armored officers joined their peers, handcuffed and disarmed. Even in all the carnage, with the high-speed chase and toppled vans, the escorting officers still had the mobster’s heads covered in breathable bags. As for the inhabitants of the crushed van, only one officer suffered severe injuries.

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Only when he was certain the last of the officers were bound and their heads covered did he change back into his human form. Next, he unmasked the mobsters, who were in differing states of excitement, fear, shock, and stoicism. Declan O’Malley maintained the latter demeanor, his steely gaze piercing him. Known as The Fixer, he possessed an average build with a prominent jaw and a full head of graying hair.

Finnegan Callahan, Declan’s enforcer, was bound with the same blue metal HAVEN used to restrain him when they arrested him at the courthouse. Jalen found the key on the sergeant.

“Hold on, boss. I’ll take it from here,” Finnegan said, rubbing his unbound wrists as he stepped forward towards the pile of guns. He was a man with an imposing stature, akin to a heavyweight brawler.

“Hold your horses, Finn,” Declan said. “We haven’t thanked our benefactor yet, nor do we even know him.”

Finnegan peered at his boss, his eyebrows steeped in worry. “Know him? I thought he was one of our boys.”

Declan chuckled and walked closer to Jalen. “No, he isn’t. But with all that’s happened, you never know these days. You know him, Sean?”

“No, boss.” Sean Murphy exuded a nervous and fidgety exterior.

“How bout you, Nikolai? Is he one of your men?”

“It matters not who the fuckin man is or if he wiped his ass today,” Nikolai Ivanov said. His defining feature other than his thick Russian accent was the countless scars adorning his face. Like he wrestled with bears in his spare time.

“You could just ask me,” Jalen said.

“Oh, forgive my manners,” Declan said. “All those long hours in isolation must have muddled my mind. Finn, arm us. Then I presume you have plans for our getaway. We can save the introductions for later.”

Finnegan grabbed two assault rifles and a pistol. He tossed a rifle to Nikolai and the pistol to Declan. It would seem Sean would remain unarmed.

“What’s the plan?” Declan asked, then leveled his gun at Sean and unloaded three rounds into the unsuspecting man. Then he glanced at Jalen and shrugged. “He’s a fucking rat. That’s what they get. Finn, please confirm if the rat has met his maker.”

Finnegan pumped a few more rounds into the strewn body of Sean Murphy. “He’s dead, boss.” The large man confirmed.

“You dump those bright overalls,” Jalen answered in a calm tone as if they conducted some mundane business before him. “Then you shuffle into a van while I’ll handle the rest.”

The mobsters sprang into action, switching their overalls for the officers’ uniforms. Declan joined Jalen in observing the entire scene as Finnegan walked up to a van. Setting his stance like that of a strongman ready to display feats of strength, Finnegan lifted a side of the van with great effort and strain, before flipping it back on its wheels.

“It’s… ready, boss,” Finnegan confirmed. “Who’s taking the wheel?”

“Nikolai will drive,” Declan said. “There’s just one thing that’s nagging me like a fucking mosquito buzzing in my ear.” He turned to Jalen. “Did you do anything about the tracking devices that could be in the van? It could be radio, cellular, or even GPS.”

Jalen’s eyes widened. “I did not.”

“Understandable. It is a common thing to overlook. Especially so for someone your age. Finn, bring over one of our law friends over there.”

The large man did as he was told, dragging an unwilling officer over. The officer was a young man, his underwear the only clothing shielding him from the chilly night air.

“Where did you stash the tracker in the van?” Declan asked, retrieving his pistol from its holster.

“I-I don’t know,” the officer muttered.

Declan cocked his pistol and rested the nozzle on the officer’s head. “Perhaps this will jog your memory. Don’t play games with us. As you can see, we’re short on time and patience. Where is the fucking tracker stashed?”

The sergeant started violently shaking in his restraints and cursing at the mobsters until Finnegan went over and shut him off with his fist. Nikolai patrolled the perimeter, weary of any brave and loose officers vying to jeopardize their escape. While Jalen observed the group tooling their trade. His time will come later.

Declan shot at the ground near the officer, eliciting terrified screams from the man.

“Okay, okay,” the officer cried. “I took this job because of the good pay and simple work. I didn’t sign up for this shit, please.”

“Understood,” Declan said. “Now answer the fucking question.”

“Okay. This van was undergoing refitting and system upgrades. So the only tracker currently in it is secured on the roof. It’s GPS, so it needs a clear line of sight at all times.”

Declan smiled. “Good job, officer. You’d make a fine Lieutenant.”

With that valuable knowledge, Finnegan hopped on the roof of the van. “I see it, boss.” He said, then tried to grab onto it.

Finnegan struggled to gain purchase of the tracker, let alone dislodging it. Jalen thought about revealing his god form. The initial plan was to hide it from as many people as possible, including his future criminal colleagues. But since they had spent more time here than he wanted, it seemed like there were no other options left. That was until Finnegan placed his hands flush on the van’s surface and absorbed the metal, his skin assuming a metallic shin. Afterward, his fingers sank into the tracker’s housing, giving him the grip to rip it off the roof.

“No one drives,” Jalen said when Nikolai tried to hop into the van through the driver’s side. “You all get into the back and hold on tight.”

The men exchanged looks.

“Boss, I never trusted this dude,” Finnegan said. “I say we ice him. Save ourselves the hassle down the road.”

Nikolai agreed, clutching his rifle.

Declan O’Malley smiled, his keen gaze set on Jalen. “Finn, you’ve always had the temperament for the business, and I employed you as my enforcer for that. However, you’ve always lacked in the critical thinking department. It’s something that has aided me in surviving in this business as long as I’ve done.

“Take a good look at the man you want to kill, Finn. He’s as cool as a scarecrow left out in a snowstorm. Not a goddamn nervous bone in his body. He is also someone capable of hijacking an armored convoy by himself and restraining about thirty law enforcement agents. No, Finn. We will heed his instructions and find out what he wants from us later. May I know your name, gentleman?”

“When we are somewhere safer, sure,” Jalen answered.

Declan proudly sat in the back of the van. The rest of the mobsters followed soot, stealing cautious glances at Jalen. Finnegan’s metallic skin had returned to normal by the time he sat down, but he, along with Nikolai, held their guns at the ready.

“Remember to hold on tight,” Jalen said, then closed the double doors and locked them in.

Next, he inspected the cuffed and hood-covered officers, making sure nothing was amiss before transforming into Erebus. Grabbing a hold on to the van’s undercarriage, he soared into the night sky.