Prologue
Don Marcel was not afraid. He might have doubted his buyers. He may have been unsure about the product. But he was not afraid.
He knew the docks like the back of his hand. Every nook and cranny, every rusted pipe and staircase, every hidden lock and basement, if it was on the docks, he knew of it.
The docks were his home. At fifteen, they’d been witness to his first murder. At twenty, they’d served as a foster parent to his drug cartel. By thirty, they’d seen him become the biggest drug lord in all of Haven City.
Don Marcel searched the ocean with prowling eyes. It was half-past midnight and the buyers were nowhere to be seen.
“Sir, there’s been a delay!”
Heavy footsteps paced in his direction. The Don took a long, disappointed look at his watch and exhaled. “You don’t say.”
The minion bowed respectfully. “Sir, it’s the clients. They’re gonna be late. Fellas got stopped for a police check.”
“I see,” the Don responded calmly. “Take a couple of men and run a security detail on the perimeter. I don’t want any dogs sniffing the goods.”
“Yes, sir!” The man nodded.
The minion had scarcely turned around to leave when the Don’s phone rang with a sharp notification sound. It was a message from a private number:
falsehood is a myth
Don Marcel was shaken to his core but he could not afford to panic. Not tonight. He took a deep breath to steady himself and cursed. “Wait!”
The minion stopped in his tracks and turned to face his boss.
Don Marcel walked over, put an arm over his shoulder, and whispered in the most terrifying voice he had ever heard. “Double the security. I’m expecting a special guest tonight.”
The man went pale. His eyes nearly popped out of his skull and his mouth was left wide agape. “Sir, you don’t mean her?”
The Don’s face was devoid of emotion.
The minion was drenched in sweat. “But sir…!”
“That was an order,” the Don commanded in a deep baritone.
The minion nodded and walked back with shivering legs. In mere moments, the news spread to every last man in the warehouse. Cries of “Damn!” and other four-letter words echoed within the building. But everyone knew that the Don’s word was absolute. The chaos died as quickly as it had begun and within fifteen minutes, every last man on Haven City Docks was holding a gun.
Don Marcel was not afraid. He’d faced her before, though without success. But tonight would be different. Tonight, he would take down the Ghost of Haven City.
With everything in place, the man reported back. The perimeter search had turned up empty but all men were on high alert nonetheless.
“Good,” said the Don and turned back to face the ocean. The gentle rippling of the waves against the midnight breeze gave him a hypnotic comfort. He found himself basking in the nostalgia brought forth by the cold, cold waters.
“Sir!”
“Hmm?” The Don cranked his neck in dismay.
The minion outstretched an arm to hand him a vial of blue liquid. It smelled like rotten fish guts. “It’s getting late. Don’t forget your Blue.”
The Don thanked him and downed the vial in a single gulp. Despite years of consumption, the taste still made him vomit but it was a pain he was happy to bear. Haven City was cold at night. Deathly cold. Stepping outdoors without drinking a cryoelixir meant instant hypothermia.
As the Blue flowed through his veins, his heart rate rose and his senses became sharper. He could taste the fear in the air around him. According to the scientists, cryoelixirs only sped up your metabolism. Anything else was merely a side effect.
The Don turned around to face his subordinate. “I hear chatter.”
“It’s nothing, sir. It’s just… everyone’s a bit on edge,” the minion spoke in the softest whisper.
“Oh?”
“You know, with the wall coming down and everything. And now this… The boys are scared.”
“Oh really? And what do they have to fear?” the Don inquired politely.
“Well, you know-”
“I know full well what you idiots want.” The Don cupped his eyes with a sigh. “Let me be clear. No one’s getting a whiff of the product until we’re done dealing with Vega. Understood?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Good.” The Don smiled. “Now get back to-”
A crashing noise interrupted Don Marcel. It came from the warehouse. Both men turned to look at the building. An agitated voice boomed from within. “Man down! Man down!”
Another one followed. “Top floor! Get your weapons! To me!”
The minion rushed forward to aid his companions. Don Marcel’s wrinkled lips curved into a sly grin. “She’s here.”
By the time they got there, the warehouse was a battleground. Eight were already unconscious. Armed men scrambled all over the building in search of the intruder.
They found nothing.
Another gunshot rang from the top floor. Three men followed the sound only to find a rookie balled up in a corner.
Don Marcel’s gaze was fixed on the wooden crates in the center of the room. Aside from a few chipped splinters, they looked intact. He breathed a sigh of relief.
The minion was crouched over to inspect the injured. Most had their bones shattered, some had minor cuts and bruises, and a few unlucky ones were still conscious, groaning in pain.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Seeing his boss approach, he got up with a hint of exertion. “Blunt trauma,” he reported, “she must be nearby. I’ll prepare a backup squad.”
Don Marcel shook his head as he walked around the injured. They looked upon him with pained faces. The Don, however, remained expressionless. “That was forty dollars an hour well fucking spent.” He spat. He turned to face the remaining men and continued loudly. “Vega is inside the building. Find her. Turn the place upside down if you have to. If she gets her hands on the product, you are all mincemeat. Understood?”
“Sir, yes sir!” they all answered in unison and scurried off to find the intruder.
Two men had stayed behind to protect him. In his youth, he used to pick cronies like them out of his teeth for breakfast.
But Vega was different. For the last five years, the masked vigilante had been a permanent thorn in his side. Time and time again, she’d swooped in with her garish cape and made a mockery of him. “No more,” he swore. “It ends tonight.”
Another round of gunfire rang from the upper floors. It was even louder than before.
“On the roof! She’s on the roof!”
“Look out! Don’t let her get the drop on you!”
“Take aim, gents! She’s just human. Put ‘er down for good!”
Don Marcel heard everything. He heard the volley of bullets that scarred the walls of his pristine warehouse. He heard the exhausted grunts of his men as they struggled to take down one vigilante. He heard every groan and thud as his men got knocked out of commission, one by one.
Don Marcel took one last look at his watch. It was nearly one. Despite the circumstances, he felt strangely at peace.
And then, she came for him. It was unmistakably her. Just the very sight of her made his blood boil.
How could he ever forget that mask? A gray and black visor with a faceplate shaped in the form of a large V. Her armor, the same ash gray, was lined with superficial wires that radiated a sapphire glow over her joints. Her cape, a tattered old thing, hanging well past her waistline. It had no practical value.
She spoke up in a computerized voice, “Hey Marcy, how’s it going? Love what you’ve done with the place.”
Don Marcel reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a pair of knuckle dusters. “Hmmph,” he answered.
“Oh, come on!” She groaned. “We’ve been at it for ages now. One of us has gotta give! Aren’t you tired of these games?”
“Moot point. Now, let’s finish this,” said the Don, readying himself to attack.
Vega crossed her arms and shook her head. “You are just impossible to talk to. I see you more often than my own boyfriend, for God’s sake. But have you ever tried having a conversation with me? Nooooo! It’s all just grrr this, hrmph that. You are the worst arch-nemesis ever.”
“Tonight, I bathe in your blood, Vega.” The Don smiled.
“Whatever, let’s just get this over with.”
With a feral grunt, Don Marcel threw himself at the masked vigilante. She casually jumped out of the way letting him eat a mouthful of thin air.
“Easy there, stud. Don’t wanna sprain your back or anything.”
Don Marcel threw a powerful left hook in her direction. She dodged by moving slightly to the right. The enraged Don threw punch after punch, but each blow missed its mark. To make it worse, Vega seemed to have no interest in fighting back.
“Come on, man!” She taunted him. “My three-year-old nephew hits harder than that.”
After several minutes of ‘fighting’, Don Marcel was starting to get tired. His back was slick with sweat. He was gasping for air. And his punches had all the speed and grace of a dying snail.
With the last of his strength, he readied his fist. Despite his exhaustion, he managed to channel all his remaining energy into a powerful blow and swung it toward her face while wildly screaming, “Graaaargh!”
It missed.
Vega delivered a fierce kick to his torso and the greatest crime lord Haven City had ever known collapsed to the ground in defeat. His wheezing was like music to her ears.
“And the score is twenty to zero.” She bowed gracefully. “You really need to step up your game, Marcy. I’m not gonna be around forever, you know?”
Don Marcel did not answer.
“Alright, silent treatment it is, then,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m just gonna take a look around, ‘kay? Examine the crime scene, check up on your men. Find evidence that will put you behind bars for life. You know, the usual.”
Just as she was about to walk away, Don Marcel lifted his battered face from the ground. His eyes were vengeful. “This isn’t over yet. I have friends in high places. Friends who can make your life a living hell. Say your prayers, Vega. Your days are numbered.”
“I am absolutely terrified,” she answered in a deadpan voice as she continued to inspect the room.
“You have nothing against me. You have no evidence. You can’t charge me with shit. You- What?”
Marcel listened closely. It was the sound of sirens. Police sirens, to be precise. He swore he could see Vega smirking underneath her mask.
One by one, the entire platoon of police officers tore through the main entrance. Vega watched in delight as her friends from the Haven City Police Department put all the bad guys under arrest.
∆∆∆
It was half-past two and the police had found nothing. No incriminating evidence. No drugs. No signs of any illegal activity at all. The place was clean. Too clean, almost.
Vega tapped her feet impatiently as she watched cops running all over the warehouse. Her confidence was starting to waver. Without evidence, the raid was a failure. If they couldn’t connect Marcel to the drug cartel, he would simply walk away.
And if that wasn’t bad enough, she had forgotten to do her homework yet again. The last time this happened, she had to sit through five hours of detention.
Five hours for the crime of forgetting homework once.
Terrific. Just terrific.
At precisely three o’clock, she said, “Oh, what the hell?” and stomped over to the police captain in the middle of the room. “Captain, I can’t take it anymore! Have you found anything? Anything at all?”
The police captain rubbed his eyes with an exhausted groan and shook his head. “Bastard must have cleaned out the place before we arrived. I’ll be honest, dear, things are not looking great. Anonymous tips from vigilantes are one thing but a raid without a warrant? If the higher-ups find out we turned up empty-handed… well, I’m sure you can imagine.”
“But that’s impossible!” She gasped. “They were still moving the stuff when I came in. What about those crates?” She pointed to the wooden stack behind the captain.
“See for yourself.” The captain gestured for her to look.
Vega took a step forward. The crates had already been opened. She gaped in horror at the nightmare before her eyes.
The crates were filled with teddy bears.
Vega didn’t say a word. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, mumbled “it’s all a dream,” and opened her eyes again.
The crates were still filled with teddy bears.
Her soul had left her body.
“We searched their insides too. It’s nothing but cotton,” the captain added.
Vega stood motionless in the center of the room. She could hear Don Marcel laughing in the distance. “You son of a bitch…”
Without missing a beat, she walked over to the Don, grabbed him by the collar, and threw his bruised body against the wall. The Don was still laughing.
“Where is it?” she screamed, kicking him in the gut. The man coughed up blood. “Talk, damn it! Where’s your product?”
Don Marcel wiped the blood from his cheeks. “You’re looking at it.”
She kicked him again. The bastard couldn’t stop laughing. It made her even angrier. She kicked him with such venom and ferocity that two officers had to pry her away from him. To add insult to injury, Don Marcel was still laughing like a maniac.
“What’s so funny, asshole?” She grunted, trying to break free from the officers’ grasp.
“Give it a minute.” He smiled.
“What do you-”
Vega listened closely. It was the sound of sirens. Sirens of the Elite Guard. Even underneath all his bruises, she could see him smirking.
A legion of armed officers tore through the police brigade. Their guns were trained on everyone except Don Marcel. The Elite Guard reported directly to the President of Lucidea. The local cops knew her well enough but these guys… God, any time they showed up unannounced, it meant trouble.
The captain looked ready to explode with anger but he didn’t say a word. He remained silent as the Elite Guard trampled all over his crime scene. He remained silent when they released all of Marcel’s men and berated him for conspiring with a terrorist. He remained silent when they took him away in handcuffs. His head was bowed in shame.
“Captain! Captain, what’s happening? What the hell are they doing?” Vega tried to follow, but she was held back by eighteen guns staring her in the face.
The captain of the Elite Guard finally spoke, “Miss Vega! You are under arrest for acts of terrorism against the glorious nation of Lucidea. Please, do not resist.”
“What the hell?” she protested. “This dirtbag here controls half the drug cartel in the country. And you’re just gonna let him go?”
“The only criminal here is you,” Don Marcel answered. He looked ready to burst with laughter. “Ah yes. I almost forgot! Mr. Roland sends his regards.”
The masked vigilante froze in place. The Elite Guard circled all around her. That name. It sounded familiar. But where had she heard it before? Nothing came to mind at the moment. Nothing even mattered anymore.
She took one last look at Don Marcel’s bloated face and swore, “I’m bringing you down if it’s the last thing I ever do.”
With the final word of warning, she tossed a stun grenade to the ground, instantly blinding everyone around her. The captain barked and cursed, commanding his men to open fire but no one complied. By the time they could see again, the Ghost of Haven City had disappeared into the night.