Tag: cathedral

The Revengers: Operation Pimp Daddy – Takedown!

Glasgow_cathedralHello again superheroes! Operation Pimp Daddy continues, and we are in the thick of things now. Last time, our heroes Judgement, Panacea and Captain Smackdown were approaching St. John’s Cathedral with the intent of ambushing the notorious Pimp William “Billy Bob” Holstein. Unfortunately, things went a little awry as a certain someone (Father Michael) changed the game by confronting the target a bit too early. Gun fire resulted, and our heroes were forced to storm the church to assess the situation. Here’s what happened…

*               *               *

They ran up the steps. Each footfall was like an eternity as the noise coming from within reached a crescendo. In no time at all, the doors slammed open and people ran in all directions. Smackdown, Panacea and Judgement were forced to duck and cover as they were nearly trampled by all the people coming their way.

Men, women, children, and the elderly. Scarcely anyone didn’t cross their path. Inside, the sound of gun fire continued, three more shots ringing out.

“Captain!” screamed Judgement. His skin began to crawl with gold webbing as the fear and panic fed his powers. His hair similarly grew out, white and straw-like. Emerged in a sea of panic, he drew strength to himself, but the fact that he could press forward and attack was also driving him mad.

“Hang on!” Smackdown replied. At the moment, the hail of human bodies, flailing arms and screams were an impenetrable wall; but at the moment, they had no choice but to weather it and wait. Forcing them aside would cause untold harm, and they already had an uncertain number of gunshot victims toiling inside.

“I can fly in!” Panacea yelled, pointing to one of the stainglass windows that loomed above them. Smackdown spotted the panel that was opened and just large enough to admit her. Though at the moment, breaking through one entirely seemed tolerable. 

“Do it!” he yelled, raising his weapon. Summoning all the power she could to herself, she shot up from the steps and positioned herself on the window ledge. Looking ahead, Smackdown noted that the crowd was also beginning to thin out somewhat. Inside, he could see some traces of a white fur coat and the glint on a silver gun. It looked like they finally had a line on their target.

Smackdown lowered his weapon and called to Judgement. “Judgement! Can you see him? Do you have a line on him?”

Judgment looked on ahead, his eyes widening with grim pleasure. “I got him!”

“Good! You take him, I’ll get his body guards!”

At once, the three of them moved. Judgement leapt forward, propelled by the power of his own telekinesis. Smackdown rushed through the last of the stragglers and quickly assessed the scene.

True to form, Billy Bob was standing there in the middle of the Nave, his gun raised and his body draped in the hideous white fur coat he was known to carry. To either side, two thugs were standing, their own weapons poised and at the ready. Before them was the body of Father Michael, blood streaming from his chest from two fresh wounds.

He could feel a terrible sinking sense forming inside him, threatening to consume him. All at once it came flashing back – a broken body, a bleeding wound, a light beaming down to mark the pale face of a poor young man left for dead…

It didn’t last. In the thick of it, Judgement had sprung into action and drew their fire. Six bullets came from Bob’s men and stopped dead in front of the beastly man’s face. His eyes narrowing, all six projectiles turned into hot lead and dissipated before him. He growled and hurled a psychic wave at them, turning the force that had propelled the bullets at him back at his attackers.

“Feel my wrath!” he bellowed, sending hot lead and energy into their faces.

Billy Bob was knocked flat on his back, his two escorts thrown clear and landing several meters beyond. All screamed from the searing pain of hot lead in their faces, but Billy seemed to have taken the worst of it. He lay moaning while the other two slowly pulled themselves to their feet.

Overhead, Panacea sailed down and landed in the center between the pews, kneeling to place her hand on Father Michael. The old man groaned under her touch, and his body jerked as healing energy flowed into him.

Smackdown gave his head a strong shake. The sudden flurry managed to snap him back to the present and he raised his weapon. The situation was far from resolved, at the moment, his colleagues were handling everything between them. Attempting to resolve that, he spotted the two thugs who at that moment were busy getting to their feet. Their guns were long lost, but both had thought to bring backup weapons for the occasion and were in the process of arming them. One produced a knife while the other fetched a set of brass knuckled from their belt buckle. Raising his weapon, Smackdown charged up his tazer rifle and fired two shots.

One by one, the men screamed as the tazer needles from his weapon struck them in the chests and delivered several thousand volts directly into their nervous systems. They fell to the floor, arms flailing and every muscle spasming uncontrollably. In the center, sprawled across the floor, Billy Bob looked up from a pool of his own blood, his nose broken from the blast Judgement had given him. No sooner did he taken a knee that Judgement grabbed him again, raising him off the ground with another wave of psychic energy.

Suspended above the floor, Billy Bob struggled but could do nothing to free himself from the grip. And all his efforts only made it worse, Judgement extending another invisible hand to clamp him tightly. A small, guttural cry escaped his lips as the pressure closed around him and threatening to break his ribs.

Smackdown gave his head a shake to right himself and nodded to Judgement. “You got him?” he asked.

Judgement hummed an affirmative.

“Good. We need him alive. But if he moves… punish him.”

“With pleasure,” Judgement said with a smile.

“How is he?” he said, nodding to Father Michael next. Kneeling next to him, Panacea looked up and shook her head.

“He took two to the stomach. He’s alive, but bleeding internally.”

“Can you save him?”

“Of course, it’s just going to take some time.”

Smackdown eyed Billy Bob, still hanging in the center of the room, and nodded. There were no sirens in the distance, but that would change presently. He knew they didn’t need to get the good father up and walking again, just healthy enough for the paramedics to bring him the rest of the way back. Alas, he knew Panacea wouldn’t go for that. Nothing short of his full recovery would satisfy her right now. He knew how she felt…

He knelt down by Panacea and looked the father in the eyes. The old man looked mighty stunned and disheveled, and just the slightest bit guilty too.

“Father?” he said. “Can you hear me?”

The old man looked to him and nodded.

“You took a serious hit there, but you should be fine. Our dear friend here does good work.”

He looked to her, his eyes becoming mystified and taking on a distant quality. “What is she?”

Smackdown looked at Panacea, who smiled modestly back at him. Under the circumstances, it was clear the father might interpret this as something of a divine intervention. It seemed cruel to dispel that notion. Still, the Captain concluded that honesty would be appropriate.

“She’s… special, Father. Its probably best not to speculate too much on the issue.”

That didn’t dispel the look from his eyes. He still looked entirely awestruck, like he was staring at the divine itself. In time, he began to laugh to himself, his body retaining more of its natural color.

“He’s almost there,” she said, noting the sirens in the distance. “Just a little bit longer.”

“A little bit longer is all we have…” The sirens were getting closer. Smackdown looked to the doors and wondered just how much they had before police and SWAT would be parking out there, proceeding into the church to and opening fire on anyone who looked the slightest bit threatening.

He eyed Judgement next, who at the moment looked anything but innocuous. One look at him would cause any peace officer to open fire, and he knew how that would turn out. The last thing they needed was some police officers ending up in the emergency room. Enough had gone wrong with this op already…

Smackdown looked back to the Father and noted his lively appearance. The wounds in his chest had begun to close and the only blood now was what was already staining his robes. He began to moan, another good sign since it meant his nerves were firing on all cylinders.

“Alright, that’s good enough,” he said. “Let’s get a hold of Billy Bob and make -“

He was just about to say make tracks, but a sudden slamming noise ahead of them interrupted him. The loud thud was followed by intense screams of pain and the noise of laughter. Bob was the source of the former, whereas Judgement seemed to be taking great pleasure in it.

“What the hell was that?” Smackdown yelled to Judgement. The big man simply shrugged.

“He moved. I punished him.”

Smackdown grumbled. He ran to Bob’s side and noted that he still had a pulse. But in addition to his broken nose, he now appeared to be sporting a broken arm. He looked back at Judgement again with scorn in his eyes.

“He’ll live…”

Smackdown grumbled. He hated it when colleagues got literal! Grabbing Bob by the scruff of his fur coat, he hoisted the man to his feet and began pulling him to the doors.

“Get him in my car! I got to ask a favor of the Padre here!”

Judgement moved forward to take hold of the pimp’s broken body. Smackdown pulled him back and shook his head.

“No, not you. Panacea, get him squared in the back of my car. See what you can do about his injuries too. I want him alive and well for his interrogation.”

“You got it, Captain.” She looked at Judgement and smirked, who growled in return. Grabbing Bob around the waist, she quickly lifted herself into the air and sailed for the front doors. Judgement followed, making it to the door with a few, powerful strides.

Alone, Smackdown knelt by the Father and helped him sit up. The sirens were getting mighty close now, their klaxons echoing off the faces of every building nearby. He had barely a moment to spare, but certain considerations had to be given, and warnings issued. The good Father had risked his life for them, had placed the mission in jeopardy, and was still needed for one final task. There was hardly time to discuss all that, but the last item was indispensible…

“Okay, Father. Here’s how it is. Any moment now, police and special weapons teams are going to come through that door. When they do, they are bound to have plenty of questions for you. I think, under the circumstances, it would be best if we got our story straight.”

“Our story?” he said, smiling. “Our story begins with me confronting a group of thugs, then goes on to have me getting shot, then being rescued by bunch of men and women in strange outfits wielding all kinds of strange powers.” He frowned and gave his head a shake. “What could I possibly tell them that could account for all that, and still sound believable?”

Smackdown cleared his throat. The Father was feeling better and his mind was clear. Perhaps it was a mistake to heal him so thoroughly. The semi-conscious were always so much easier to deal with!

“Father, if you tell them what happened here-“

“They’ll what? Come looking for you? Start scouring the city looking for people for masked people in capes?”

Smackdown considered that a moment and shrugged. “Well, I-“

The Father raised his hand to interrupt. “I shall tell them what happened, my son. I shall tell them that a man of ill-repute was in my church, that I made the mistake of confronting him, and when he decided to shoot me, heavenly avengers came down from on high and saved my life. They dispatched his thugs and then carried him away to issue judgement.” He raised his hands in a questing gesture. “What else can I say?”

Smackdown wanted to disagree, wanted to argue the point, citing the need for secrecy and security. He and his colleagues were agreed, until they had made their presence felt in the underworld, until they had instilled suitable fear in the city’s drug lords, crime barons and corrupt officials, it was best to remain a secret. An enemy who did not know who was hunting them or what they wanted was far more unstable than one who did. Alas, there was no time. The nearest siren sounded mere blocks away.

“Father, I-“

“My son, I am a warden of the church. I believe in angels, in miracles, the immortality of the soul. At least twice a week, I serve parishioners what I tell them is the flesh and blood of a man who has been dead for two thousand years. Do you honestly think I would tell policemen anything other than the truth of what happened here tonight, or that they, in their infinite cynicism would believe me?”

Smackdown had to concede that much. Already, he could imagine the furious speculation that would be going on tomorrow in all corners of the city, and how that mystique could play into their hands. But again, time was factor…

“Fine! Tell them what you must. But next time we come asking for your help, please leave the heavy lifting to us.”

“Evil must be confronted in all its forms,” the Father said unapologetically.

“Yes, but next time it could be someone else who absorbs the bullet. You think about that next time you confront an evil man.”

The Father looked ready to respond, but Smackdown didn’t stay to hear him. Running for the backdoor, he cleared it just in time to see Judgment waving to him from the passenger seat.

“Let’s go! They’re practically on top of us!” he yelled. Outside the car, Panacea released her hold on Bob’s arm and gave him a thumbs up.

“He okay to transport?” Smackdown asked as he jumped across the hood and into the driver’s seat.

“He’ll live. He’ll be might ornery when he wakes up though.”

“That’s okay. I got me one hell of a mood adjuster.” Smackdown nodded to Judgement, who smiled in turn. Even Panacea smiled.

“See you at the house?”

Smackdown nodded. “Race you there!”

Panacea jumped straight into the air and flew off with the sound of a sonic boom. Smackdown slammed the gas petal and aimed them for the nearest side street, leaving the lot outside of the church mere seconds before the first patrol car pulled up…

*               *               *

Tune in tomorrow for the exciting conclusion!

Revengers: Operation Pimp Daddy Proceeds!

Revenger_TakedownWelcome back, Revengers! As you know, our ongoing mission to rid the city of evil and thwart its evildoers is proceeding as planned. As you are also no doubt aware, our latest mission concerns the notorious pimp and scumbag William “Billy Bob” Holstein. After years of enlisting and abusing the city’s vulnerable, he has expanded his repertoire to include blackmail and the drug trade. Naturally, we have reason to worry, and reason to take him down…

Thus far, our point lady has been Panacea, who was kind enough to provide some in depth-surveillance on the subject and his movements. His brothels have been located, his base of operations – a restaurant co-owned with “respectable” entrepreneur Gus Darby – and his route getting to and from the one to the other. However, his drug labs, where a new super-addictive and potent narcotic is being produced, remains a mystery to us. Therefore, top priority must be given to located this place and destroying it. The city is already overrun with poisons!

As per her last field report, Panacea indicated that Billy Bob’s nightly route from Darby’s bistro took him home by way of an underground tunnel which is hidden underneath one of our city’s overpasses. This tunnel leads, eventually, into the basement of St.John’s Cathedral, located in the city’s Old Irish district. After confronting Father Michael, the resident priest, and determining he was not involved, she was able to secure his cooperation with our endeavor.

Naturally, as a man of faith, Father Michael wanted guarantees that Billy Bob would be brought down without excessive violence. In exchange, he agreed to alert our group as to when Billy Bob would be passing through again. Myself, your humble Captain, Judgement and Panacea have been waiting for the signal for several nights. And last night, it finally came…

“The night was cold and wet, unforgiving in it’s own right, and indiscriminate. Those who chose to use it as cover for their insidious activities felt its bight. Unfortunately, so did the innocent people who had no choice but to toil beneath its oppressive weight.

But tonight, the evening had new plans in mind, plans of a discriminate nature. Plans which involved carefully laid revenge. And from multiple vantage points near St. John’s Cathedral, its guarantors watched and waited…

“How much longer do we have to wait?” asked one through the comlink the team was using. For what felt like forever, he had been drawing in the night’s dark energy to himself, charging his inner stores with the life force he would need to unleash hell.

“At ease, Judgement,” replied the Captain. “Panacea has ears on the entire thing. The second we get the go ahead from the good father, we’ll move.”

“I still say he can’t be trusted.”

“He’s trusting us too. Don’t forget that.”

The comlink did not convey the grumbles coming from Judgements end, but Smackdown imagined he could hear them and smiled. It was never easy, coordinating multiple assets, especially ones with super-powers. But coordinating the likes of Judgement with Panacea, that would be a minor miracle in itself.

Alas, he knew they were both needed on tonight’s op, and both had their reasons for wanting to be here. For Panacea, this was about stopping the man who put all those girls through hell, turning them from desperate souls with nowhere to turn to the wretches she saw every night walking the streets and lying in gutters.

For Judgement, it was about stopping the flow of drugs and other poisons the notorious Billy Bob was pushing. That and the fact that he had been freely abusing innocent girls for as long as he had… Suffice it to say, he wasn’t sure Bob would be making it through the night without extreme pain. Another reason he needed Panacea on hand, her healing abilities would surely be needed!

“Eagle’s Nest to Captain,” the comlink became active again. It was Panacea’s voice on the other end.

“Read you loud and clear, Eagle’s Nest,” he said, using the call signs they had set for the op. “What’s the view like?”

“I have ears on our good father,” she said. “The sermon’s about to begin.”

“Let me hear,” he commanded. Within seconds, the audio bug she had implanted became audible to every member of their team.

“Good evening everyone. So nice to see so many familiar faces here tonight. I am glad for the turnout, as this is a rather special evening…”

“Oh, he’s there alright,” said Judgement, clogging up the line.

“Cut the chatter, big Jay, the man’s talking,” said Smackdown.

“C’mon, listen to that leadup. He’s giving us the green light.”

“Wait for it, my hasty friend!”

The debate ceased and Father Michael’s words began to stream through the link again, a particular theme beginning to form.

“In these times of uncertainty, we often look to each other for support and guidance. We remind ourselves that in days where evil, torment and woe are the norm that the only things we can count upon is our faith and each other. But what if we were to learn that the very causes of these evils and torments were among us?”

“Um, Captain…” Panacea said over the line. Smackdown didn’t reply, simply listened in. He too was concerned. The nature of the sermon seemed to be straying from what they had agreed on.

“What if the forces of evil were among us, hiding in plain sight, and fooling us with their phony smiles and their false charity? What if, we were to learn, that we were blind to such acts merely because we were too foolish to see it in our midst? I confess, my parishioners, that their is much evil in this world that I have failed to see. Evil which operated beneath my very nose, within THESE VERY WALLS!”

“Shit, he’s jumping the gun!” said Smackdown.

“Are we a go?” asked Judgement. Smackdown hesitated. It sounded very much like the Father was about to confront Billy directly, something they had specifically asked him not to do. Takedowns were tricky, not something to be done by unskilled people.

“We’re a go,” he said, jumping from the car. “Follow me in, I’m making for the front doors in under one mike.”

Smackdown from the rear of his car and opened the trunk. Grabbing a hold of his tactical shotgun, he was sure to snag a few flashbangs and snag them onto his belt. From behind, Judgement moved to his side through a series of leaps and bounds, assisted as he was by his telekinesis. With some practice, he had learned to hurl himself as easily as he could foreign objects.

Panacea, meanwhile, descended from above, taking the ground from her perch above the bell tower. She drifted easily from the steps to the car, taking a spot at their side.

“What’s happening now?” she asked. Smackdown pushed the comlink in his ear deeper to hear what was happening within.

“We have evil among us!” the father screamed. “And it resides… right there!”

Yelps began to arise from a hundred sources at once, the sounds of fearful revelation. They were followed by loud screams and angry declarations, the unmistakable sounds of mass panic.

He released the link. “Crap! He’s made Billy! We have to go before- “

The sounds of multiple shots resounded from within the Cathedral. Smackdown, Judgement and Panacea all looked to the front door with a sense of dread. All of their faces wore the same expression…

What had just happened?

*               *               *

Tune in next time for the exciting continuance of Operation Pimp Daddy and the ongoing adventures of the The Revengers!

The Revengers: Operation Pimp Daddy!

gargoyleThe following is a transcript of events that occurred on the evening of Dec. 12th, 2012 in the confines of the St. John’s Cathedral. Revenger agent Panacea on scene, questioning a possible informant:

“The room’s soft lighting reflected off the ornate stone work, adding to the atmosphere that was already in abundance, thanks to the Gregorian chant collection playing in the background. Father Michael moved from pew to pew, gathering his strength after another evening mass and trying his best to shake off the burden of another day’s worth of confessions. Such terrible secrets the people of this city held, and such pain. One had to wonder if anyone would ever be capable of shouldering it all…

His eyes drifted to the front, where the bronze figure of the Savior hung on the cross. How sad he looked, his eyes downcast to the ground as he died. How heavily burdened he seemed too, carrying all of the world as he did on his slender shoulders, the cruelties, horrors, pains, petty jealousies of so many, the sin and vice of entire race. Was it really the nails and the spear point that had done him in, or was it the crushing weight of his children’s own nature?

Better you than me, he thought with some degree of mirth. At times like this, it was important to remember that one was never alone on the great battlefield. It was important to keep a sense of humor as well, otherwise one could go mad.

The father’s heart fluttered when he heard a noise behind him. His old bones could not turn fast enough to see what had caused it, but he knew something was back there, hiding in the knave somewhere. He began to walk slowly towards the rear, calling to it loudly.

“Who’s back there?” he said aloud. “Father Cleo? Are you back there?”

No answer. He approached it more quickly.

“Jack? If you’re sneaking around back there, I’m going to have to ask you to stop it. The congregation hall is no place for you and your brothers to be at play.”

He heard another noise. This time, it came from his left. His eyes were drawn to the far corner of the room, a small stand of candles that were rocking back and forth.

His heart picked up again as he realized that whoever, or whatever, was there was taking great pains not to be noticed. He turned back to the front to face the Saviour. He had known the risks of coming to the inner city to do the Lord’s work. He had been warned many times over what challenges he would be facing, and the dangers he would be asked to brave. He had always known that sooner or later, a misguided soul might come knocking, a poor fool who knew not what he did, but was prepared to do it.

“I shall fear no evil,” he whispered to himself. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath to stoke his courage, and turned again to address the source. “Who is there? If you’re in here still, show yourself. You have nothing to fear from me.”

He walked back towards the altar and heard another small bump, but got no indication of where it was coming from. By now, the noise echoed off the walls and sounded like it could be coming from just about anywhere. Since it would not appear, he simply spoke ahead, knowing that it would hear him no matter which way he faced.

“If you are looking for money, I can tell you you won’t find much in here. Whatever we have is marked for good works and it is taken away on a daily basis. If you’re looking for drugs, you’ve come to the wrong place. The only things n here are aspirin, communion wine and my rheumatoid medication, and I don’t think you’d find much enjoyment there. And anything you might want to steal would be impossible to fence too. Pawn shops don’t take cherished religious items much, very little resale value.”

He was almost laughing now. He felt his courage returning by small increments, until he felt like a servant of God again. No fear in the face of evil, only forgiveness.

“If you are looking for food, shelter and forgiveness though, I have plenty to offer…” he looked around, waiting to see if that elicited any response. “Why don’t you come out and we will see what we can do for you?”

A slight breeze blew through the knave. The flames of every candle flickered as the slight chill passed them by.

“Father…” a voice said. Michael spun around to see a classical figure standing before him. His mind flashed back to seminary, all the research and study he had been required to do on the motifs and iconography of ancient Rome and Byzantium. Figured cared from marble and metals, perfect in their proportions and sculpted in their physiques. And yet, he knew that this one was very much real. A true physical specimen that now stood before him.

He took a deep breath and found his voice. “What can I do for you, my child?”

She took several steps forward, her boots clopping against the stone floor and the lapels of her white gown brushing against her legs. The candlelight sparkled off her green eyes and was dangerously close ot mesmerizing him. He listened closely so as not to fall under any spell she might be wielding.

“I bear a message,” she said. “The house of the Lord is being transgressed by men of depravity. They seek to make a new house of this city, a house of inequity and lust. Already, these men control a great deal of young women through the manufacture and sale of drugs, and seek to sell them to men to sate their most wanton and base desires.”

Father Michael drew back and tried to take in all he was being told. He was at once horrified and insulted by the thought.

“Who are these men? How are they using my church? What are you accusing us of?”

The lady raised her hand and smiled gently. “You are innocent in these crimes, Father, or so I believe. Your house is being used against its will, against yours. We seek your help in reigning these men in and restoring this place to its intended purpose. If you would help us, that is…”

Michael blinked a few times and ran his hand over his mouth. He was feeling suddenly fatigued and his back was beginning to ache. The ravages of old age and a life dedicated to others, he knew.

“Perhaps we would be more comfortable speaking in the rectory. I am in need of a drink and I think I should be sitting for the rest of this.”

The lady-goddess moved to his side and laid a hand on his shoulder. Father Michael stopped in his tracks and straightened. He drew in a deep breath and almost cried out. A blinding sensation filled him suddenly, driving out all vestiges of pain and fatigue. His eyes illuminated with a new clarity and everything around him became painfully clear in that instant.

She withdrew her hand. Father Michael looked down and took several more deep breaths to still his pounding heart. The sensation faded, but the pain and fatigue did not return. He looked to her and saw her with new found clarity and energy, charged by something incredibly bright and lively deep inside him.

“What did you do to me?” he asked. “Are you heaven-sent? An angel sent from the Lord?”

She smiled. “No, father. Just a messenger with her share of gifts, and a servant in her own right. And now I need you to listen, for we don’t have much time. Your quarry and ours is a man by the name of Robert B. Farnsworth, aka. Billy Bob. Do you know him?”

Father Michael’s memory seemed unusually clear. He recalled that name instantly. “Robert Bolton Farnsworth,” he said with a smile, and quickly turned it to a frown. “A troubled lad if ever I saw one. He was a student at the Sister Mary School for many years, but was removed because of all the trouble he would get himself into.” His frown turned to a look of dismay. “Is he the one doing all that you’ve said? Is he reducing women to the status of sex slaves?”

She closed her eyes and nodded somberly. Father Michael felt a sudden burst of flame in his heart and stamped his foot against the stone.

“That damnable cur! I knew he wasn’t coming here out of sincerity! I should have known! I should have seen it! He never changes! Thrice-damned liar!”

He continued to stomp around, placing his feet against the stonework and slamming against it with a ferocity he had not felt in years. He would have been surprised at his own vitality, were he not so consumed with rage. He had known Robert as a lad, seen him grow into a troubled youth, and then lost site of him for many years as he continued to go in and out of juvenile offenders programs. He had been relatively controllable when his mother still lived, but when she died…

“Father,” the woman said finally. “I need you to calm down. If we’re to stop him, we need your help. It’s only a matter of time before he returns, and we need to know when he does.”

Father Michael turned to face her. “What is he doing here? Is he using my church for some of his misdeeds?”

“Only it’s location, Father. Your church sits atop an ancient tunnel that runs under the city. He has been using for some time to allude detection and to find his way back to where he runs his operations in secret. When he comes through next, we need to know so we can tail him. We’ll take care of the rest.”

Father Michael nodded. He had heard rumors of an old network that ran into St. John’s, an avenue from the earliest days of the church’s existence when Catholics fears about the Reformation were still widespread. The tunnel had been meant to serve as an escape route, should the powers that be dispatch any officers on orders of the King or Church to round up Catholic heretics. He had never known it to be true or false, or where it ran. Perhaps his predecessor had known something of it, but failed to pass it on. In either case, the thought that it was being used for such purposes as this filled him with disgust.

Still, there was one concern he could not allow to slip by without mention.

“And once you have your hands on him, what will you do?”

She smiled again, in that same warm way of hers. “We will dispense justice, Father. But we will not kill him. That is not our way. We only wish to end the harm and torment he is causing, not add to it by enacting sentence. In the absence of authority and justice, we are Judge and Jury, but not executioner.”

Father Michael nodded. “You could say I have your word on that?”

“You can indeed because you do.”

Father Michael nodded again. He didn’t really need to ask, every instinct he had told her she was telling the truth. But better to do so and know that he did. His own conscience would abide nothing less. He lowered his head and asked one final question/

“Very well. How will I contact you?”

“Just speak the name of Justice, father. We will hear you.”

“Justice?” he said, looking up. She was gone. He looked in all directions for a sign of her, but there was none. She had left as easily as she had come.

“Where are you?” he said to the roof itself. It’s beams and buttresses did not reply. “What have you done to me?”

“I lessened your burder, Father. I lightened your load,” a soft voice replied. He knew it to be hers, though he still couldn’t see her.

He ran his hands all over himself and noticed that the pain of his rheumatism was also non-existent. His back was also straighter than it had been in recent memory and devoid of aches. He laughed aloud, and looked back to the heavens.

“Are you sure you’re not heaven sent?”

No answer. It was just as well. He knew he wouldn’t be told either way. A shame, but one could live with.

He walked back to the rectory, a new found bounce in his step. Would anyone believe him if he told them what happened here tonight? Probably not, he reckoned. And that he could live with too. He was sure the only parties that truly mattered had seen all they needed to see, and were quite pleased…

Next up, our exciting take-down of the notorious “Pimp Daddy”, Billy Bob himself!

Revengers Mission Update!

revengers_cadillacRevengers! We have received a crucial update from our agent in the field, Panacea, who has made a crucial discovery about the notorious pimp and hoodlum Billy Bob. As our next mission to rid this city of corruption, evil and influence peddling, she managed to tail our quarry as he once again attempted to elude detection. Here is what she found:

Target: Billy Bob
Target: Billy “Pimp Daddy” Bob

The tunnel is just large enough for a Mercedes to park. The two walk the underground tunnels. There’s more than one and they are well used. The homeless, those who have checked out of society, and run away teens live in them. I’ll have to go back and see who I can save.

But for now …

One of the tunnels leads into the basement of St. John’s Cathedral. The two arrive in time for the end of 6 PM mass. They mingle into the crowd and exit with them. They duck down an alley, just avoiding the street camera, and enter the back door at the abandoned paper mill.

They truly want to keep their plans secret.

Seems they are expanding their business. They’re making a new kind of designer drug and are giving it to their girls, in affect, making them slaves. Billy Bob and Gus are also giving the drug away to potential buyers.

They must be stopped!!!!

Oh yes, I almost forgot. They have a small army watching the place. At around 10PM they sneak their way back into the church and head out for their nightclub.

What’s our plan?

Here is what I would suggest: The abandoned paper mill is our target. So far, we have three volunteers – Panacea, Judgement and myself. On the night in question, we will allow them to do their thing, to think that they continue to act with impunity and have not been detected. Obviously, we cannot risk harming the women who are in there, so the strike will have to be surgical and well timed. When they are finished for the night and pack up to leave, that is when we’ll make our move.

Secure Billy Bob, evacuate the factory, and then we set it to blow! No trace of those designer drugs can be allowed to survive. And with Billy Bob in our custody, I’m sure we can “persuade” him to surrender all the details we’ll need to wrap up his dirty little business. That will include his partnership with the “respectable” Gus Darby, the restauranteur who’s been dipping his pen in Bob’s dirty ink. Here too, I’m sure he’ll have plenty of stories to tell us before we convince him to leave town forever…

And lets not forget the denizens who live in the tunnel. If help can be arranged for them, then we must see to it that they are evacuated to some place that can provide housing and proper care. If not, well… no one need know of their little home once we’ve taken care of Bob, right? One question, Panacea… how sure are we that the people of St. John’s Cathedral aren’t involved?