Two blocks over from the tapped-off junk yard, The squeal of a cars brakes rent the air as Chief McKinney skidded to a halt. He parked askew in front of the mobile field command post, jumped out of the driver's seat and marched inside.

The pop-up tent was filled with folding tables and portable communications equipment while half a dozen supervisors and dispatchers bustled about coordinating the search effort. McKinney scanned past the busy crew and zeroed in on his man.

Waylon sat near the back, his feet up on a table, lazily scrolling his phone. Temple pulsing, McKinney pushed through the crowd to reach him.

"I thought I said you were relieved," McKinney spat angrily as he approached.

Waylon looked up from his phone and rolled his eyes, "The Mayor wanted me to stay on scene. Besides, I'm not the one who fired his gun. Ryan is already being debriefed with internal affairs."

McKinney knocked Waylon’s feet off the table, "I' don't care who your sucking off, if I tell you you're relieved, then you get the fuck out."

Waylon shot out of his seat and squared off with the Chief. "Say again, sir?" he sneered.

Chase sauntered over from the other end of the tent and stood at Waylon's shoulder, both men bearing down on their superior. The other officers gathered around the crowded table froze, watching the exchange with bated breath.

McKinney held his ground, nostrils flaring like an angry bull, when Lieutenant Finnick entered. Seeing the tense standoff, he hurried over to the Chief and grabbed his shoulder.

"We should chat, boss." Finnick urged.

For a solid minute, McKinney ignored his Lieutenant, keeping his eyes locked on Waylon's. Slowly he turned to one of the Sergeants on scene.

"Get them out, now," He barked.

The detectives let themselves be escorted out, Waylon smiling haughtily as we went.

When they had gone, McKinney leaned on the table, fuming between the cables and laptops as his people resumed their duties.

"Boss?" Finnick said cautiously.

"What's the status on my 'copter?" McKinney asked, ignoring Finnick's concern.

Finnick sighed, "All the external instruments are down. That fucker knew where to hit it. The crew is getting ready to go back up, but it will be line of sight only, no infrared or cameras."

McKinney pinched the bridge of his nose, warding off a headache, "and the victim? We get an I.D?"

Finnick pulled out a notepad from his pocket, "Javier Gonzales, sixteen, lived in a group home until he ran away about four months ago. History of B-&-E, grand theft auto, and shoplifting. He had an old school I.D on him which was good because, um..." Finnick swallowed hard, "No one would have recognized him otherwise..."

McKinney grunted, "And no one except Ryan saw what happened?" he asked skeptically.

Tucking his notepad away, Finnick pulled out a cigarette and held it between his lips, "The body camera shows him confronting the nut job in the costume standing over the kid's body before it shorted out. That's all we got."

McKinney swore, “Who the hell is this guy?”

Finnick shrugged, “It looks like it's the same guy from the video post that was all over the news. The baton recovered at the scene looks the same as the one he used in the video, but I don't buy it... No way those three assholes accidentally found the same guy who took out a crew of their Acolytes.”

“It smells, that's for sure,” McKinney said. “We know anything else?’

“Well, there was a similar report almost a month ago. A guy using a stick wearing a mask saved a woman and her kid. Stopped her husband from whopping on them. But, just like the other night, this stick guy didn't kill anyone then either. His M.O seems to be stopping abusers and women beaters, not thieves.”

McKinney pulled out a bottle of antacid from his coat and took a swig. "Yeah... How long since he was last sighted?"

Finnick checked his watch, "No one has seen the guy in three hours."

The Chief shook his head, "call it off and break it down, he's long gone." He turned and headed for the tent exit.

Finnick followed, whispering low so only the Chief could hear. “Our man Chuck reached out. According to him, the ones doing Ryan’s I.A interview are dirty. We won't get anything from it.”

McKinney stopped at his crookedly parked car and opened the door. “What else would you expect, Finnick. We’re on our own here.”

Finnick stepped back, and lit his cigarette as the Chief pulled away, leaving the Lieutenant to oversee the command post breakdown.

***

Ten minutes later, McKiney parked in the nearly empty lot in front of the police station. He entered the building and marched down quiet halls, bypassing dark offices and conference rooms on his way to the elevator.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

As the door dinged at the fifth floor, McKinney dragged his exhausted feet down the hall to his office while running down a mental checklist of things he still had to do. There was no time to drive home, It was looking like another rough night on his lumpy office couch.

McKinney flipped on the lights as entered his office and crossed over to his desk to retrieve a bottle of whisky and a glass from one of the drawers. He poured himself a drink and downed it in one pull, slamming the empty glass next to his keyboard.

As he savored the burn traveling down his throat, McKinney grabbed a remote from his desk and flipped on the TV in time to catch a breaking news segment. It was a press release at City Hall, the caption reading, "Fallen Knight?" as the camera focused on Mayor Gambal.

"This is a sad day indeed.” Gambal said to the camera, “ As I feared, the continuous and hateful online rhetoric has finally encouraged one extremist to take drastic action. This vigilante has taken the life of a troubled teen simply because of his past mistakes."

Gambal’s face was exaggeratedly upset, and a single tear fell down his cheek as he held up a bloodied old wooden baton, wrapped in a clear evidence bag. After a dramatic pause he continued.

"Javier was a boy who needed our help! But this villain used the image of law and order to murder him and terrorize our community. This will not stand! Rest assured, my special task force will not rest until this monster is behind bars. We will have justice!"

McKinney shut off the TV in disgust and poured himself another drink.

“It's a smart frame job.” someone said from McKinney’s back.

He tensed and spun around, drawing his weapon and thumbing back the hammer in one motion. At first the room appeared empty. Then, he noticed the slightest shuffling of the floor length curtain over his window.

"Show yourself!" he ordered.

The drapes shifted and the Knightstick stepped out into the open, hands raised.

"I'm not here to fight Chief," he said.

Dumbstruck, McKinney stared wide-eyed at the odd stranger in his ancient uniform. He kept his sights trained on the man, finger resting on the trigger as he rallied his senses.

"Pretty dumb for a murderer to wander into my police station," he said, his expression hard.

Knightstick shrugged, unafraid, "yeah it would be."

The two eyed each other in a tense standoff. Slowly, McKinney lowered the hammer on his revolver, raising the barrel to high port.

"You owe me a new helicopter," he said, holstering the weapon.

"I only took out the cameras," Knightstick retorted.

McKinney picked up the glass and took a drink to calm his racing heart. "I charge interest. Why the hell are you risking this?"

Knightstick dropped his arms, "because we are after the same people and it's time we started acting like it."

With a groan, McKinney sat in his high-backed leather chair, "Are we now? And who would that be?"

“Dirty cops and bikers kidnaping folk, all working under some kind of cartel.” Knightstick rattled off.

The Chief blanched, taken aback. “Ok... but I need you for this, why?”

“Because they have the wool over your eyes. That girl, Annabell? She’s still alive.”

McKinney raised an eyebrow and his mustache twitched, "What? That’s ridiculous, we checked DNA-”

But even as he spoke the Chief hesitated. He thought over the procedure. Who handled the evidence? The body? His face fell and his sense of isolation intensified.

“... Alright, you have my attention."

"Call off the dogs, let me do my work. I can help end this and find the girl."

McKinney scoffed, "You're off your rocker. Look, the search tonight is over, but you are officially public enemy number one pal. If the City Council ever thought I was soft on you, they would dump me, and Gambal's puppet Enzo would take over. Then what?"

Knightstick crossed to the front of the Chief's desk. "Thought you might say that." He said as he pulled out a cell phone from his coat and dropped it on the surface. "Fine, hunt me, just tip me off when you do it."

McKinney snorted and picked up the burner, "yeah right, and what would I get for helping you?"

The masked man folded his arms and rolled back his shoulders. "How about progress? What's your wish list?"

The Chief laughed out loud, but the stranger never blinked. McKinney's smile faltered, "You're serious?"

Knightstick nodded.

McKinney swore under his breath and stroked his mustache, looking about his office nervously. After a pause, he cast the man a sideways glance.

"If I could get it... I’d need intel. Specifically, evidence about whatever scheme the Trio and mayor are tied to, hard proof pointing to who's paying them, and for what."

"Fine. Give me their location."

McKinney rocked back in his chair, "Just like that hu?”

The stranger’s eyes narrowed, framed between the brim of his derby hat and the hem of his mask. Slowly, he put his fists on the Chief's desk and leaned forward.

"I just ghosted your entire force, blinded your bird, and got the drop on you in your home turf... yes, just like that."

McKinney gulped. He stood up and started pacing behind his desk, taking another swig of whiskey to buy time. He turned back to the stranger, clearly torn.

“You are a goddamn loose cannon,” he said gruffly, “I should be taking you off the board.” He emptied his glass and set it down.

Knightstick pushed off the desk and crossed his arms again, remaining silent.

McKinney looked the man up and down, trying and failing to read him. He swore under his breath as he felt his desperation mounting.

“I swear to God if you aren't one of the good guys... if you burn me on this, I will hunt you down and end you myself."

Knightstick tilted his head, "I'm good enough," he offered.

McKinney sighed and rubbed his tired eyes, "The trio holds up inside Thunder River Casino. Don't know which room. But listen, the last officer who got me any kind of real intelligence, she...” his voice hitched, “It didn't end well.”

Knightstick’s brow furrowed as he frowned under his mask. He then nodded and walked to the window without another word.

“I don’t need another body, you hear me?” McKinney shouted to his retreating back, trying to hide the panic in his voice. “Anyone dies, I will bring the world down on your head.”

Knightstick slid the window open, stepped up onto the sill, then glanced over his shoulder at McKinney.

"I'll be in touch."

With that, he dropped off the ledge, letting himself free-fall five stories.

Mckinney ran up to the window and stuck his head out after the man, but saw no trace of him down below.

“Sweet mother Marie...” The Chief closed the window in disbelief. He returned to his desk and traded his modest serving glass for the rest of the bottle as he tried to come to grips with what transpired.

What kind of devil's deal did he just agree too...