Nightshade, The Short Change Hero
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It was a good thing the Heroes and Villains Charity Golf Tournament wasn’t held until September, or things could have gotten really interesting between now and then. Because as it was…
“You’re sure this is the right place?” asked The Punisher as they drove past another closed strip mall with boarded-up windows. He looked at the street signs and swore under his breath. “Damn, I think I missed it by one block.”
“Don’t worry, this is the place,” said Nightshade confidently as he steered toward the parking lot of the last store in sight before a hill. As soon as the car stopped, he hopped out and ran around to the driver’s side door. “We’re here!” he cried triumphantly as he unlocked the door for them. “Come on! Before we lose them all!”
“I thought you wanted to keep a low profile?” said The Punisher. “And what did you mean to lose them all? They aren’t even here yet.”
Nightshade gave him a look that was part pitying sigh, part annoyed glare, but mostly confusion. “The team isn’t supposed to come here until tonight when I call to set up our time slot. That means we need to be ready for them. But there’s no reason to wait for them if we’re already here. Let’s go find someplace else to hang out and do your homework until they show up.”
“But-” started The Punisher. He stopped as he realized what Nightshade was really suggesting. “Oh,” he said lamely.
“Yeah, I know, I know,” said Nightshade in disgust, gesturing at the building before them. “What did you expect? A nice place for us to wait where no one can see?”
He shook his head and led The Punisher around to the back door. “I’m gonna get us a couple of chairs. And maybe a cooler of something cold. Don’t move from the car until I return.”
The Punisher looked over the back wall into the lot as Nightshade ran off. A large man sat in the truck driver’s seat with a big trailer attached. It didn’t take long for The Punisher to deduce who this was. He’d seen the guy on the news before-The Butcher.
As he watched, two more men got into the back of the van and pulled out what looked like a large, wooden box. Then, they lifted it up and carried it into the front door of the store.
“This is perfect!” said Nightshade happily as he returned to the car. “I knew we should have come here first instead of going home! You could just tell they were here by that sign over there.” He pointed over the back fence at the closed building.
The Butcher came out the front door holding the lid open while two other guys carried a heavy piece of furniture through the doorway.
“Come on,” said Nightshade excitedly, getting into the car. “We need to watch them unload all their stuff.” He opened his glove compartment and pulled out his binoculars. “Now, if only we could find a good spot…”
The Punisher had a pretty good idea of where this was heading. They’d been talking about the same thing earlier after Nightshade found out that his teammates weren’t coming.
“It’ll be okay,” he said soothingly. “Just sit tight and I’ll go get some ice.” He started to open his door. “If they want you to watch them, maybe they’ll think we’re watching them, too.” He smiled reassuringly. “You just relax and let me handle the details for once. Okay?”
Nightshade sighed dramatically and nodded as he lowered the binoculars to his lap and leaned back in his seat. “Fine, fine. You’ve earned it, after all.” He smiled wistfully and turned away from him. “I’m sure I won’t miss anything interesting when they unload their furniture.”
The Punisher didn’t say a word as he got out of the car. When he came back, he had an ice chest. He set it between the front seats, then reached over the top of it to put his hand on Nightshade’s knee.
“I brought some iced tea,” he said happily, looking at the ground in front of him. “And some snacks.”
Nightshade’s eyes went wide in surprise as The Punisher’s hand landed there. Then, he glanced at his phone and grimaced as he saw it was already almost eleven o’clock. “Great… they must be here by now,” he muttered softly as he picked up his binoculars again. “They wouldn’t keep them waiting if they weren’t going to be coming.”
“I know,” said The Punisher sadly, reaching into his pocket for one of the pills.
“Hey!” said Nightshade angrily as he pushed the binoculars aside. “We need to concentrate on our homework!”
The Punisher looked back to see if he should take the chance and hand him another pill, but Nightshade’s hands were still firmly gripping his knees. He didn’t seem to want any more attention from The Punisher right now. So, he closed his own eyes and took a deep breath to try to relax.
The Butcher’s men were carrying a large desk that would look nice in a classroom. Nightshade frowned as he realized it must be meant for the new room they’d put together at the front of the school. They’d moved out half of the library and made an annex of sorts where a couple of teachers now worked.
It didn’t have any computers yet, but it did have some desks with bookshelves built above them and a computer cart along one wall. A new teacher, Mr. O’Toole, had just started there and Nightshade was glad about that. The other teacher hadn’t wanted to work there and Nightshade had been glad to hear that she’d been transferred.
He glanced down at his watch and then back at The Punisher, who seemed lost in thought. They both heard the sound of someone pulling up behind their car. Nightshade looked over to see a woman in an old beat-up blue van parked behind theirs. She got out, carrying a small suitcase and looking around.
Nightshade frowned. It couldn’t be…
He turned to see The Punisher nodding his head in agreement. “It can’t be…”
***
NIGHTSHADE WAS SO EXCITED HE could hardly sit still. He watched the Butcher and his men unload a bunch of boxes and a few pieces of furniture out of their van and into the shop. The Butcher’s men took off in another black van for some other job while the man himself went inside.
Then, the Butcher came out and walked over to stand outside the fence by Nightshade’s car. He leaned on the railing and spoke softly to the group gathered behind him. Nightshade listened carefully, but all he caught were a few words here and there: “You know what this means?
We’re going to be moving upstairs in a couple of months!” and “Yeah, you know I’m right,” and “No need to worry about anything, because I’ll make sure it works.”
Nightshade was so excited, he didn’t even realize that the Butcher had said his name until the man straightened up and spoke again. “Oh, and by the way… I heard from my brother today. He got his transfer letter. He’s been assigned to that school you two are working at now.
Said it was only a temporary assignment for this year, but they’ll probably make it permanent.” He grinned happily. “He’s going to be teaching there next year. So, when we get our rooms ready, we should have plenty of time to move in together… like the old days, before your wife came along, eh?”
The Punisher stared at the Butcher as if he were a crazy person, his whole face going red and his fists clenching hard. His eyes darted back and forth between The Butcher and the man standing next to him.
Nightshade looked quickly from one man to another as the Butcher turned to walk away. “That’s… great! Congratulations!”
“Thank you,” said the Butcher, waving his hand casually. “Now, why don’t you all go on home? You’ve done me a huge favor, here. I’ll let you know how it turns out, later. Thanks a lot, guys!”
Nightshade looked nervously back and forth between the Butcher and the other man for a moment. They both stood by their vehicles, watching him watch them. Then, he started to back up his car, but the Butcher stepped forward.
“You’d better keep that little secret to yourself, boy,” said The Butcher quietly. “My brother knows who you are. If he hears that I had anything to do with you leaving his school, I’ll never hear the end of it. Understand?”
“But-” Nightshade protested weakly.
The Butcher put his hand over his mouth and then waved his hand dismissively at the group. “Get out of here. Get home now!” He watched as the others piled into their cars and drove off. “You too, kid,” he added after them.
Nightshade was relieved to see them drive off, but as they left he noticed something odd about the other man that made his heart sink. There were four men, total, standing near the Butcher’s vehicle and Nightshade hadn’t heard them say anything.
The Butcher must have just been talking to the men in the van; he’d seemed very distracted when he spoke to Nightshade. He didn’t seem to be able to focus on Nightshade for long periods at a time.
That was why The Punisher had come out and stood beside him: so that the Butcher wouldn’t lose track of Nightshade and accidentally let something slip. But he hadn’t realized that The Punisher was keeping tabs on him, too.
“He’s not… the Butcher…” Nightshade gasped to himself.
“No,” said The Punisher calmly. “The Butcher isn’t what you think he is.”
“What?” asked Nightshade. “Why aren’t you going after them?”
“Because,” said The Punisher quietly. “I know who he really is. And he doesn’t need us. He already has the support of the entire police force.” He turned away from Nightshade’s car, walking slowly back toward the van.
The Butcher got in, closed the door, and the vehicle pulled away with a screech of tires. “It’s a good thing they weren’t looking for you, or else you’d have been toast before the van even left the parking lot.”
“Oh no,” murmured Nightshade, watching The Butcher enter the vehicle and drive away.
“What happened?” asked Captain Denton.
“Nothing,” said Detective Harris, trying to keep her voice calm. She glanced nervously at The Punisher for reassurance. “Just a bunch of idiots in suits, that’s all. I told them we weren’t involved in whatever this was. We were just on our way home. That should be all they need to know.”
“Didn’t sound like that,” said Captain Denton. “Sounds like one of your old informants is trying to stir up trouble.”
Harris frowned as she stared at the two men on either side of her. They hadn’t spoken yet, but there was an intense look on their faces that she couldn’t quite place. She felt like there were questions burning on the tip of her tongue and they were dying to escape. It was almost worse than if they had just blurted out what they were thinking.
But before they could do anything to help her, they were interrupted by a phone call.
“Captain?”
“Yeah?”
“This is Mr. Jones from the police station. Do you remember me?”
Harris nodded. “Sure.”
“I’m sorry to bother you again, but there are some more calls for you over at the station. Seems like someone really wants to talk to you about what’s happening. I can take care of it; you go get something to eat with your wife. We’ll let you know if we find out who called in the first time.”
Harris sighed. “Okay, I guess I better go check on this, then.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve already talked to the detectives on the case. They said it shouldn’t interfere with their investigation too much. It’s just that this guy… he sounded upset when he called earlier. I don’t want him to keep calling us and getting yelled at. He needs help, but he might not be in a good mood. You’re probably just going to have to calm him down. Can you handle that?”
“Sure, no problem,” said Harris quietly. “It’s not like he’s threatening anyone or anything. I can handle it.”
She smiled reassuringly at the two men sitting across from her, and they both relaxed slightly. They didn’t look any different than normal, so why did she feel nervous around them? But it was probably just because she didn’t like having to deal with people on the phone.
They always seemed so distant and emotionless, as if the person on the other end of the line couldn’t see them at all. She’d only ever spoken to The Butcher a handful of times and found that even talking to him on the phone made her heart race a little.
And it wasn’t as if he was some dangerous criminal or anything; just a regular guy that got himself into a bad spot. And the fact that she had been able to help him out made it easy for her to like him a lot more.
Harris looked down at the paper she was holding on which her fingers were nervously drumming away, and felt herself blush. She cleared her throat, trying to get back on topic, and then said, “So I’m going to drive over to the station to take care of these calls right now. It shouldn’t take long. When do I start work again tomorrow?”
“I already spoke to your replacement and she should be there at eight tomorrow morning,” said Captain Denton. “You don’t have to go in until then anyway.”
“Okay, that’ll work fine,” said Harris. “Thanks, Captain. I won’t let you down.”
“Don’t worry about that. You’ve done a good job so far. We’re lucky to have someone with your skill set available when we needed you. I wouldn’t want to lose you. That being said, don’t forget what I said earlier. Keep an eye on the Butcher’s people. If they cause us any more trouble…”
Harris nodded seriously and then quickly hung up the phone before saying, “Oh, by the way, Captain… I got that call from Detective Jones over at the police station earlier. What’s up with that?”
“He’s one of my men.”
Harris frowned. “Is he okay?”
“No problem there, he’s just busy handling his cases. The only reason I wanted to bring it up is because of this,” said Denton, pointing at the papers on the table. “We were just getting ready to show it to you, actually.”
Harris looked up at the Captain, but then quickly glanced down again as she saw the document in her hand. A few words caught her attention; she read them carefully.
“The Punisher?”
Denton smiled. “I’m afraid so.”
Harris put her head in her hands and sighed. This was going to be a lot harder than she thought it would. She had hoped to never have anything to do with the vigilante group, much less a former member of their team, especially when that person seemed to have gone rogue.
She couldn’t help but feel responsible for whatever he had become after all the time and effort that she’d spent trying to convince him that he could change his life. Now it looked like he was going to go back to his old ways and cause a lot of innocent people pain. And she was the only one that might be able to stop him.
A loud, heavy bang from behind Harris pulled her out of her thoughts. She jumped up and walked over to the door in a panic. When she opened it and peered out into the hallway, she saw an unconscious man sprawled out on the floor. Harris immediately rushed over to his side and knelt down next to him, looking down at him and checking for a pulse.
When she didn’t find one, she let out a deep sigh. He looked dead, so she quickly took off her jacket and used it as a pillow underneath his head, then laid his arms across it before she sat back and waited patiently until paramedics came to take him away.
They probably wouldn’t be there very long, since he wasn’t seriously injured. Harris wondered what had happened to him, but as she stared down at him, something about him seemed familiar to her. She remembered thinking he looked just like someone she knew… someone she cared deeply for. The more she thought about it, the more sure she became.
“Is this guy one of The Punisher’s men?” asked Denton.
“I don’t know,” said Harris as she stood back up and wiped the blood from her hands with the jacket, “but I’m starting to think that he is.”
***
The Butcher had just returned home after a particularly grueling night when the phone rang. It was an annoying habit of his to always answer all calls personally, even if he didn’t want to. His friends called it the ‘daddy complex.’ And although the Butcher never admitted it aloud, he liked hearing himself talk; it made him feel important.
Besides, who else was he going to call? The only other person he’d allow to make calls to his private phone line was his wife, and she wasn’t in a great mood right now because he hadn’t been there when she woke up to go to work that morning.
As far as he could tell, the only thing she had ever done on his behalf was to sleep around with his best friend and get him fired from the company. But the Butcher couldn’t blame her too much, since that man was nothing more than a lazy bum that had spent most of his life living off of her hard-earned money. He didn’t deserve to be treated any better.
So when the phone rang, the Butcher quickly got up and answered it, hoping that his wife wouldn’t be able to hear his voice over the phone’s speaker. After a quick conversation with his lawyer about some new developments concerning his case, he hung up the receiver and went back to bed.
“I should’ve known it wouldn’t be her,” said the Butcher while trying to find a comfortable position on the bed, “she’s not the type to call me unless there was something important to report.”
When no one came, he figured his wife had probably just forgotten or was busy dealing with some emergency at work, so he decided to call his friend, Mr. Smith. Smith lived close to the Butcher, so he always made sure to call first thing in the morning to let him know if he planned to be out.
This time, he called the Butcher first and asked to speak to Smith. When the Butcher picked up the receiver and told Smith who was calling, the man quickly agreed to talk.
“Hey, Boss! How are you?” said Smith enthusiastically when the Butcher answered.
“Oh, I’m fine, Mr. Smith, how are things going for you?”
Smith sighed. He was tired of the whole ‘Mr. Smith’s thing. He was a respected attorney and the man deserved to be called by his first name. But he knew the Butcher wasn’t about to let go of the formality, so he kept his complaints to himself and tried to answer politely as always.
“Well, they’re pretty good,” said Smith after a moment, “I mean, the economy has been rough lately, but my business hasn’t suffered like others in the area. Plus, the new law firm we opened is doing much better than I expected. It’s nice having all those people working under you to do most of the work. But hey, enough about my career. Tell me what’s happening with you!”
“Not much,” said the Butcher, “I haven’t had much time to do much. I’ve been too busy taking care of these two dead men in my living room last night. Oh yeah, did you hear that my wife called me this morning?”
“I heard,” said Smith quietly after a brief pause. He thought he’d have to deal with more than one murder before it ever reached his ears. He felt bad for the Butcher, since he hadn’t done anything wrong, and was now getting a taste of what it felt like to be falsely accused. “Did you tell her?”
The Butcher shook his head. “She wasn’t around.”
Smith frowned. That didn’t seem to make sense to him. “Then why did you call me? She couldn’t be at work already, could she?”
“No, no…” said the Butcher while shaking his head from side to side, “she didn’t work today. It was supposed to be my day off, but she decided to get up early and go in for some extra hours so I could get out of town for a while. Something about a friend needing me to come to pick them up or something.
She must’ve called me when she woke up to get ready for work, then fell back asleep, since she never even checked the answering machine before I woke up, and the phone was ringing when I got downstairs.”
Smith nodded, understanding completely. It seemed the Butcher’s wife didn’t know about her husband’s ‘other’ life. “And your friends?” asked Smith while looking over some paperwork on his desk.
The Butcher sighed and shook his head. “They’re all still there; just lying in pools of their own blood. They won’t wake up no matter how much I shake them.”
Smith looked down at his own hands, which were resting atop the table. His fingers flexed and unflexed slightly as he stared at them intently. “What’s with those guys, anyway? What did they have to do with your wife calling you in the middle of the night?”
The Butcher looked up. “That’s what I don’t get. I’ve never met any of them before, but one of them told me his name was Kevin something, but it didn’t sound familiar.”
Smith smiled a little, though not much. “Well, Mr. Smith,” he said quietly after a moment of thought, “they were obviously trying to kill you. Why else would they ambush you like that?”
The Butcher shook his head and frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. We never knew any of them before last night, and besides, why would anyone want to kill me? I’m nobody important, at least, I wasn’t supposed to be. I don’t know anything.”
Smith looked up at him. He had an unreadable expression on his face as he spoke, but the Butcher got a distinct feeling that his attorney friend didn’t believe a word he’d just said.
“You think my wife called you because she wanted to tell you what happened?” asked the Butcher. “But I haven’t told her anything.”
Smith shook his head slowly and frowned. “I don’t know what to tell you,” he said after a moment. “But, if you ask me, I’d say someone probably hired these people to come to kill you.”
The Butcher scoffed. “And how exactly do you figure that? It’s not like they came to me for the job, they just did it out of the blue!”
Smith sighed. “That’s what I don’t get. If your wife wanted to call someone, I can only imagine who it could have been. But who knows…maybe she was worried about something. She must have seen something suspicious in her husband before he left for work yesterday.”
Smith was right, of course, but that didn’t mean anything. The Butcher still hadn’t said that his wife had even mentioned her suspicions to him when they talked that morning. He decided not to bring it up until he was sure he knew what his options were.
“Anyway,” said Smith after a moment of thought, “you’ve already told me a lot. What’s to stop you from telling your wife about what happened? Why do you need my help?”
The Butcher paused and looked down at the floor for a moment, then turned back to face him. “That’s the thing,” he said quietly, “my wife doesn’t know anything about this…at least I don’t think she does. And besides, if she was going to call someone, it would be one of her co-workers, not some strange man I’d never met. You said yourself, she wouldn’t call me because I was leaving town.”
Smith nodded slowly, trying to make sense of everything. There was obviously more going on here than there seemed, and if that was the case, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He had enough trouble as it was without adding more complications to an already messy situation.
The Butcher looked back at the Butcher, still unsure of whether he should tell the lawyer about everything he’d just revealed. “What are we talking about here?” he asked nervously, still looking at the floor.
Smith shrugged. “Nothing important, really.”
“And if I decide not to tell you anything?”
“Well, Mr. Butcher,” said Smith evenly, “I’m the only one who can tell you what to do next. Your choice, though.”
The Butcher looked back up at him, then smiled wryly. “Yeah, right. So much for the legal system in this country.” The Butcher took another look around the office before turning back to face his attorney again. “How did you find out about my wife anyway?”
“You mean how did I get involved? That’s easy,” answered Smith, nodding his head towards the phone. “When I answered the phone, your wife gave me a pretty good description of what she wanted, which led me to believe that you might have been lying. It also sounded like you were being stalked or something, which is why I called you over here.”
Smith shrugged and continued as the Butcher sat down and stared at him expectantly. “So yeah, you were right. She did call me to report her suspicions about you and someone else. But it wasn’t until you showed up that I started to get suspicious.”
The Butcher nodded and stared intently at his hands as Smith talked, hoping he would say more. But instead, the man turned away from him and picked up a pen, staring down at it blankly while he thought things through.
After a moment, he looked back up at his client. “It’s obvious, Mr. Butcher, that someone is trying to kill you. I think you should take my advice: go ahead and tell your wife everything you know, but stay far away from her and anyone else you can find out about for the time being.”
He paused and sighed before continuing. “There are too many unknowns in this case. If you don’t want to involve your wife or others, then I guess I’ll just have to take care of your wife for you.”
The Butcher was speechless, unsure if he should be afraid or relieved. “What do you mean by ‘take care?” he finally asked. “I don’t understand any of this!”
Smith looked up at him and smiled. “Oh, I see,” he said softly. “You didn’t realize yet. I’ve done some work for Mrs. Butcher before. It was only supposed to be on her own personal behalf, so no one would suspect anything. But I think she’s going to need a lot more help now, and I’m afraid you’re going to have to do most of the heavy lifting.”
The Butcher looked confused, and Smith sighed deeply again and continued. “Let me put it another way. Your wife called me because she wanted to make sure you weren’t involved in an affair with another woman. That was what she was really worried about.
Now that she knows for sure, she needs a lawyer who understands exactly how dangerous she might be.” He stood up from behind his desk and walked over to the corner of the room, where he picked up his briefcase and took a deep breath.
“So, Mr. Butcher, I think we should talk about what to do next,” said Smith as he turned back to face him.
“How do you know about all this stuff anyway?” asked the Butcher, staring intently at his hands. “Why would your wife call you? I thought she didn’t even know you existed.”
Smith nodded and opened the case and took out several files that he dropped onto the table in front of him. “I don’t like to brag,” he said quietly, looking around the room, “but when I told her who I was, she got pretty excited. And that wasn’t easy, believe me.”
He paused briefly before continuing. “My job is to look into cases and find people who are guilty of wrongdoing. Sometimes those wrongdoers work for someone else; sometimes they don’t. The important thing is that I can find them and help put them in jail, so I have a lot of friends in high places.
My clients tend to be wealthy people who aren’t used to having their affairs exposed by others.”
The Butcher shook his head sadly, realizing what the man was implying. He stared down at his hands again, thinking. Finally, he looked up at Smith and asked quietly, “How did you find me here? No one’s been to my apartment or called me there…since before this happened. Not that anyone knows where I live now, anyway.”
Smith frowned at the Butcher as he picked up the phone. “I’m not surprised by any of this,” he said quietly. “It seems obvious to me that your wife was being followed before you went to the hospital. She probably thinks you’re dead, and whoever has been following her has made sure no one could get close enough to see her. You were lucky it didn’t go much further.”
“But how do you know all this?” asked the Butcher again, still trying to make sense of things. “Did she call you from here? I mean, I thought we had agreed not to tell anyone what had really happened!”
Smith smiled and shook his head. “No, Mr. Butcher. I wasn’t at your wife’s office this afternoon. But someone told me. A good friend of mine in Washington was talking to someone very close to you who was worried about something.
I got the impression they thought you might not be alive, which is why they needed help, so I called my friend back and asked if I could meet him here tonight. He came down and gave me a brief summary of what had happened…but then he also mentioned how worried you both were about this other woman who was in love with you.
And it made sense to me, Mr. Butcher: someone knew that you were having an affair, and you were too ashamed to admit it. So I just had to check it out for myself.”
The Butcher’s face was red from anger as he glared up at Smith. “What do you mean?” he shouted. “Why would you do that? What am I supposed to do now?”
“Well, I don’t really think there’s anything you can do about this. If it had been me, I wouldn’t have stayed married, but Mrs. Butcher is not going to let you off easy. Not after all this time, and especially when she discovers everything.
But don’t worry about that right now, because you’ll be seeing her again soon. We’ve already started the wheels turning on that, so you just focus on getting well. Once you’re strong enough, we can begin making some arrangements, and then I’ll take you home where you belong.” Smith paused briefly and then leaned back in his chair.
“Now, if you’d like to go downstairs and get something to eat or drink while you’re waiting, I’m sure she won’t mind. Just make sure she doesn’t come up until I’ve gone.”
Smith picked up the files and left the room quietly as he saw the Butcher look longingly toward the stairs.
The End