NSA AGENCY INTELLIGENCE GATHERING GROUP: EVALUATION AND QUARTERLY REPORT
AGENCY REPORTING: Office of Specially Abled Individuals Reporting [O.S.A.I.R.]
Subject: “The Hanging Judge”
Known Abilities: Teleportation, Physical strength at a far-above average level, Melee-weapon abilities [blunt & rope-based weapons]
Physical Characteristics:Ht__6-7 ft___ Wt__250 lbs [approx.]
Identity: Known Unknown
If Known:
Affiliations: None.
Current Ideological Orientations:
America: Pro Anti Unknown
Law/Order: Pro Anti Unknown
Threat/Influence Assessment:
Subject does not appear at this time to be a threat to the aims of the United States government, but this is not certain. Subject is, at this time, the most enigmatic of the individuals studied by this office and hence the most unpredictable.
In the field of operations, witnesses have described an uncanny ability to appear out of a cloud of smoke, then relocate short distances within a fighting range so as to obtain advantages over foes.
Witnesses have further described the use of a large, gavel-shaped hammer and a noose used as weapons in close-quarter fighting.
Subject also has been described as using legal terminology during the process of subduing criminals caught in the act of illegal activity. A typical pattern of activity involves subject interrupting a criminal activity, stating ‘Court is in session,’ denying pleas for mercy with phrases such as ‘overruled,’ etc.
Attempts to trace a pattern of behavior to result in a predictable set of actions have proven fruitless. Subject’s choice of vigilante venues seems at times almost random. In the month leading up to the filing of this report, subject was credibly sighted a) breaking up a meeting of a ring of pimps of child prostitutes, b) breaking into the home and injuring a well-heeled lawyer guilty of beating his wife, and c) assaulting a drug-smuggling ringleader on the street at 3 a.m. and breaking both his arms in two places each.
The only visible pattern is that the victims of the subject’s vigilante justice all escaped or were not in danger of being subjected to the normal level of consequences from the mainstream legal system.
Subject has been witnessed associating with other S.A.I.'s on only a few occasions, the most common being the accomplished thief known only as The Black Tiger. Ironically, the subject has never apprehended the Black Tiger, despite his lengthy criminal record for thievery of items in the hundreds of thouands of U.S. Dollars. The lone witness we have of the interaction between these two claimed that both began talking to one another in a calm, familiar banter, utterly unlike the subject's interactions with all other lawbreakers...
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
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“So what’s the story this time, Miguel?”
“What’s it always? I’m not doing anything wrong. Just on my way home. Like the new wig, by the way. It’s you, all the way.”
The Hanging Judge had pulled his black cloth mask up until his chin and mouth were uncovered, just enough so that he could take the tall glass mug of beer and drain it halfway in a single drought. After he finished, he gave the smallest gasp of pleasure and a mild belch before slamming the stein down on the bar. “Yep,” he said, “my Methodist parents taught me to be thorough in all I did, but we couldn’t bring a drop of alcohol into the house. S’why I still bless the day I turned Catholic.”
“And when was that, amigo?”
“The day I died."
"Pshaw, Gideon. Really? You never told me about that."
"No, really," the Judge said, taking another big swig from his glass. "Right after Tony Scarfelli stabbed me in the kidney for convicting his brother and sending him to the chair. I bled out in front of St. Thomas More’s statue at the courthouse- he’s the patron saint of lawyers, you know. Right then, it started glowing. Then he started talking, and then he made me an offer. I said yes, and the next thing I knew . . .” he swept his hand over the wig, judges’ gown, and the large hammer he had carefully propped up next to the bar within arm’s reach.
"Quite the story, Amigo," Miguel said. "Glad you've never had to come for me."
"You stole only from those who'd stolen, Miguel. And gave to those who'd been cheated of something they'd had a right to. I follow the law, yes. But not just the laws in the books, but the highest law of all." He looked up through the black cloth over his eyes, and took another swig.
They sat in silence for another few seconds.
“You’re a little far from the gym, Miguel,” the Judge said quietly. He faced the wall-length mirror behind the bar, though his eyes were still hidden
“Yes, yes I am. Do you even have a home these days, Giddy?”
“Sure. I’m just never there, except when I need to sleep. And I don’t get much of that these days. And you just dodged my question.”
“You know me, Gideon. I got my fingers in something, yeah. But no one’s gonna get hurt by it. You were a lawyer, a prosecutor before it happened. You know it’s okay for men of the law to make deals.”
“I’ve been making them with you for the better part of a decade now, Miguel. And those little twenty-somethings with capes and too much money and time on their hands are starting to close in on whatever it is you had those teenage boys running interference for. Either The One or The Dark’s going to show up on your doorstep in the next few days, maybe the next few hours. Maybe he’s there now, for all we know. I don't have many friends in this line of work, so I like to keep the few I have safe and out from behind bars and the hospital, if at all possible.”
“Me, too. Look, Gideon, you know I never get my hands into anything evil. Just enough to keep the gym running and the lights on so’s the good kids have a place to be. And in return I tell you what I hear the kids saying about who’s doing what. And when you do stuff like this, it keeps the gym from being ripped off, ‘cause folks know I’ve got The Hanging Judge backin’ me up.”
“There’s a lot of cops out tonight, Miguel. And ambulances. Someone set off a lot of bombs. I had to stop a few muggings that the cops couldn’t.”
“One of the smoke bombs was me, yeah.”
“Anything else you, Miguel?”
“Why doncha peek into my head and find out?”
“Can’t.Wouldn’t if I could, Miguel. You know that. You’re on my team, and that’s part of the rules. I can only do that to the bad guys.”
“You’ll find out, soon enough, Giddy. I’m helping out a few old friends, and I’m getting paid for my troubles. That’s all, really.”
“I hope so, Miguel, for your sake. The Dark and his friends, they’ve got their hearts in the right place, but they’re young and they’re stupid. If one of them gets you in their crosshairs, you just may get yourself into something that I can’t help you get out of. Well,” he stood up, his massive, seven-foot frame extending itself as he stretched, drained his drink and pulled his mask back down. “Time to hit the road. You stay out of trouble now, Miguel. I’ll be watching.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Miguel said, as he finished his own drink.
The door opened, closed. There was a flash of light outside, and Miguel sighed with relief. After a minute or so of peace, he stood up and left the place too.
TO BE CONTINUED....