Madness At Noon {COMPLETED}

A Charitable Soul 12/12

As we headed back to Apartment 57, Jack finally broke the silence. He had been dying to ask but it took him seventeen blocks to work up the courage.

"So... what the hell was that all about?"

The usual afternoon traffic made it difficult to maneuver a wheelchair down the sidewalks, but once people saw a lady dressed in scarlet and wearing a mask accompanied by a young man with frosty features, they very kindly crossed to the other side of the street. That or ran away screaming.

"Jack, sooner or later you are going to have to learn that solitude does no one any good. It is a privilege to have allies."

"The old nun in the church was your ally?" His voice dripped with skepticism.

"We go way back, Madam Red and I. Back to when she was the High Priestess of the Cult of Blood."

Jack choked on air and stared at me with his mouth open. "No shit!"

I would have just stabbed him in the neck – I was growing tired of his foul, unsophisticated tongue – but it was Sunday and I had just been to church. Call this my charitable deed for the day.

"Yes shit, Jack. The more you know about this city, the easier it is to rule. Take notes. The Gentleman insists on working alone while I have every underground agent in my pocket. Even you, since you now owe me quite the sizeable debt.

"I am good, but even I need help now and then. Well... I could do it all myself, but frankly, I have more important things to do. That is why I employ lackeys. If something comes up, I simply pass it off to someone whose time is less important than my own. Madam Red will take care of those documents for me and I'll finally get to the bottom of what was going on in Sceptre..."

"Say what?" Jack's expression was positively starving for information.

I waved him off, dragging the chair up the icy steps to my home, taking no measures to soften the ride – it was not my fault there was no handicap ramp. My dealings with Madam Red were far above his pay grade. He yelped with each violent jostle.

"Never you mind, Jack. There are some things that should not be spoken of."

It is amazing how your perspective of life changes depending on what you know.

And what I know is that a certain Dr. Eric Stein has been conducting secret genetic experiments in the basements of Sceptre Asylum.

What I know is that he is not an employee, an inmate, a transfer from Zambia, a secret agent, or any other type of reasonably accepted person to be in such a place committing such actions.

What I know is that Cheshire was only one of dozens of animalistic/humanistic hybrids that Dr. Stein had been seeking to create, each one documented with meticulous detail in that little envelope I borrowed from his playroom.

What I know is that there is a new player on the board of Vexus City. Someone, something, lurking in the shadows. The Underground did not know. The Gentleman did not know. How could they? I had the only clues: the one living specimen and a manila envelope with Greek letters.

Dr. Stein may prove to be nothing. There were hundreds of thousands of bad-doer wannabes who wanted to be me, look like me, cut throats like me. Everyone had a new gimmick these days.

But that was the thing about knowing. When there came a time when you did not know... the air becomes still. The city hushes. The people move too fast in colored blurs as you stand still on the doorstep and look out, waiting for the world to change. You know – you know – that something is out there. The answer is just beyond your door somewhere in the madness of it all, the answer to all your questions, the answer to all your dreams, the answer to everything you have ever dared to stare in the face and demand, "Who the hell are you?" If only you rip tooth and claw to tear back the layers and see dark truth for what it is.

That is why I collected secrets as earnestly as I collected human hearts.

And the look on the Gentleman's face when I unraveled his plans, knowing about them even before he did. The tormented rage in his eyes when I solved his crimes for him.

Oh, the hatred that poured from his soul when I revealed how little he actually knew about the darkness that sucked at his pure white bones.

I needed to see that again. Needed to feel his rage throb through my body. Mmm. A date with Death was long overdue. Two years behind bars overdue. The nine o'clock train was coming in and I was not going to miss it. Christmas had been a failure, but this time nothing, and I mean nothing, was going to stand in the way of me and-

Beware, beware, the company you keep, lest the demons creep from the shadows you seek and down, and down to the End shall you sleep.