Fascinating Villains

{38} - Good As Gone

I type the date into the corresponding field on my tablet, consulting it by habit on my watch: January 8th. And a Monday, second one of the month already.

Even if I enjoy filling my reports up with carefully curated details, I am quick to complete them. The file I was working on is already saved and handed in online to the relevant doctors when my ambulance gets a call from the dispatch center. I am driving today, and Leah is by my side.

A larger group of police officers than what I had expected are on the scene when we arrive, crowded inside an alleyway and walking in and out of it. We park between the police vehicles, where space is available. Following the directives of an officer, who even leads us halfway into the deep corridor before getting hailed by her boss, we witness the extent of what transpired here. It is a few minutes past 3h15 in the morning, so the flashlights fastened to our uniforms are a necessity to watch our surroundings.

There has been an altercation here involving firearms, there are bullet markings on the brick walls and the pavement, singled out with yellow numbered cards as evidence. The bodies have been cleared, leaving behind gruesome and massive pools of blood on the dark cement or in thin piles of muddy snow. Our boots are squishing in the remains of the undoubtedly savage fight that occurred here.

I listen to the law enforcers' whirlwind of thoughts, flipping through their memories like new magazines. I have grown skilled enough to do this efficiently while trudging behind Leah.

The police recovered eight corpses, all belonging to gangsters. According to their analysis, all eight of them pulled out their weapons and at least six had guns. Regardless, none survived. They know nothing of the assailants, no traces were found with a preliminary sweep of the alley, and they are still searching for nearby cameras. A rival gang is not presumed to be guilty, because they would have left their symbol, but it is assumed that more than one attacker caused the damage.

My right boot accidentally knocks a piece of scratched, curved pipe, with the evidence tag "66" next to it. I halt, squinting at the metallic debris... That is not a piece of pipe. It is a gun... A folded gun? The barrel of the pistol has been twisted completely and it is also crumpled, as if something attempted to flatten it unevenly.

I catch up speedily with my fellow technician, and we reach three policemen. The darkness and their position inside the narrow alleyway conceal their faces so far, but I am able to see that one of them is holding someone in handcuffs, while the other two are badgering the captive.

A younger voice is yelling, "Look, just tell us who..!"

"Hey, man, the paramedics are here," comments the second cop, and the pair turn to look at us, simultaneously revealing the criminal.

The man in question is more cadaver than human, it is baffling that he is alive. His arms and legs are visibly broken and his face is... Frankly, it is bloody soup slathered over a skull. Whatever remaining skin he has is drooping in shreds and strips over his fatally pounded flesh, and his partly torn out hair is coated in blood and fragments of his own skin.

Leah's psyche is blank with terror and shock, so I inhale a shaky breath and introduce us.

"We're from Gotham General. He's for us, I assume?"

"Right. We thought everyone was dead, but then we found this guy breathing, hiding behind that dumpster right there." As the youngest of the policemen speaks, I recognize his squeaking voice increasingly, until Leah's light conveniently flashes under his heavy cap to remind me of his face.

He is one of the two cops that Cheryl and I had the displeasure of encountering at 'Salty Cups', seemingly a lifetime ago.

What's his name again..?