Vigilante: Book One

Michael

Lazarus knocked on the door to the elegant mansion. He had been here only once before, and he longed for the day when he could leave it behind forever. The man that lived here could help him fight back against the Demons. He had something Lazarus could not hope to have: Money. He could give Lazarus enough funds to get enough supplies to go to war. The door opened with a maid ushering him inside. She leads him through the extravagant hallways up the stairs, all while maintaining a tense silence.  They travel up the stairs to two large wooden doors. She pushes the doors open to reveal a magnificent study. The entire room was wooden, clearly old. The ceiling of the room was going inward to create a point. When looked at from the outside, the study was like that of a cylinder with a cone top. The walls of the study had bookshelves etched into them, and books filled them. The setting sun cast long shadows in the study. A man sat at a desk in front of Lazarus.  The desk looked like it was mahogany. Lazarus heard the doors close behind him as the maid left the two men alone. The man that was sitting had green eyes that mimicked his own. He was clean shaved and hygienic.  His hair was blonde and slicked back. The man stood up and buttoned his suit coat and walked over to him. He was noticeably taller than Lazarus, to the point that Lazarus was staring at his chin. The man smiled.

"It's been too long Lazarus," He said smiling, holding out his hand. Lazarus took it and shook it, not breaking eye contact. "Oh lighten up. You should go to more family gatherings, cousin. It could make you feel a whole lot better to see the family." 

Lazarus rolled his eyes, "Our families are dead Michael. It just you and me." 

Michael released his hand, "I wasn't talking about our blood family. You know that." His eyes darkened for a moment. "You know which family I'm talking about," He put his hand on Lazarus's shoulder. "I'm talking about the family that helped me gain access to our," he motioned at himself then Lazarus, "family's old estate. And the family that helped turn you into that thing you become at night when you put on that mask." 

Lazarus took a step back. "How did you-" 

" I knew it had to be you when you were wearing that ridiculous mask and not killing. But you changed, you started dropping bodies. Now they are calling for your arrest. I am proud of you for finally having the courage to take a life. But, if you are not more careful you will die and break a treaty that has been around for a century if you keep going after the Leauge. You already have enemies on both sides of the law, do you really want them to go after you? Even you know you can't take on that many people. You're only human." He walked over to a bottle of Scotch. He poured it into two glasses. He turned to Lazarus and started drinking it. 

Lazarus walked towards him, "You know as well as I that the Leauge is too dangerous for us to simply ignore. People are dying, Michael, I'm simply the one who wants to do something about it!" He was almost yelling. 

Michael was unfazed. "I never get tired of seeing your sense of duty and honor flare-up. But I want to know why you are here." He took another sip. 

"I need your help." Lazarus sighed.

"There it is. Good boy. But I think you know that I am not one to go out and make the streets bleed with the blood of some common thugs." He said in mockery. 

"New York, Entrepreneur's Gala, 2018," Lazarus said looking him dead in the eyes.

Michael locked eyes with him. "I was there, what of it?" He said in a grim voice.

"That woman had a knife, and yet security tapes I have show you getting slashed multiple times. Yet in the interview, you had no marks on you at all. How?" Lazarus questioned.

"I wear suits to special events that might turn into disasters." 

"You wear suits all the time." Lazarus was confused now. 

"Yes. My suits have been made with a material like that of kevlar." 

"Great, I need one that's stronger than that." Lazarus said looking at the suit Michael was wearing. 

"What makes you think I am going to help you start a war? I don't want the Family coming after me, that target is so bright that I would be dead before I left my property." He said, his voice slightly quivering. 

Lazarus knew that fear was reasonable. Lazarus made sure to cut almost all ties with who he was talking about. They were far more terrifying than the League, but they weren't Lazarus's concern at the moment. He was concerned with getting that suit, it was his only hope to come back and fight the League. If he didn't get that suit, then he knew the only thing he would have to worry about is what casket he needed to get. 

"If you don't help me people will continue to die. Dozens will be droved out of their homes. San Francisco will burn. You can help stop that and you are just going to throw it away for some house?" Lazarus pleaded. 

"No, Lazarus. I can't! And I won't! " He yelled, slamming his glass down onto the table, shattering it. "Unlike you, I follow the few simple rules we have to follow!" Lazarus could see the anger on his face as he walked over to him. He leaned into Lazarus's ear and lowered his voice.

"I can't move against the Leauge. That's not my place. They have eyes everywhere." He leaned out, composed himself, and said in his normal upbeat voice, "Now, I expect you will be wanting to stay the night. I have a guest room available one floor down. We can discuss relocating you to a different city tomorrow morning at breakfast. Oh, and make sure you clean up." He looked at him and slightly cringed. "Your hair is looking rather raggedy. Goodnight Lazarus." 

And with that, Lazarus was escorted out by the same woman that took him up. She took him to his room for the night. It was nice. There was a large bathroom connected to it, and the room had a queen size bed in it. The room had one window that looked out over the courtyard. It had a candle that was put in a candle holder. Michael always had a flair for the dramatic. The room was acceptable, but then again it was here or his car. Still, this place was impressive, even for Michael. He was smart and knew how to talk his way out of or into anything. Lazarus used to be like that, before his parents were killed. After that, Lazarus had started to keep any emotions he had closed up. He felt it was better for everyone that way. The few times he was forced to go to therapy, he never opened up. After a while they stopped making him go. Lazarus didn't want to know how his cousin was able to get this impressive estate. Lazarus walked over into the bathroom and saw that the money didn't stop in the bedroom. 

Lazarus had taken his shower and shaved when it hit him just how tired he was. To say he had a few stressful days recently would be an understatement. He was going to sleep in a good bed for the first time in days. He crawled in it and turned out the light. He let the brisk air of the fan hit his face as he let himself drift into sleep.