Public Domain Heroes: The Press Guardian #8
David Michael Newstead | The Philosophy of Shaving
The crime scene was in gruesome disarray. A fight had clearly ripped through the whole apartment, ending with shots fired in the bathroom. White tiles were stained red from the detective bleeding out. His body was now slumped over in the corner, while hand prints trailed down the wall. Forensic teams had found three hundred bullets throughout the residence, but most were concentrated around the bathroom. It was a goddamn execution.
“We believe that he got off a few rounds of his own…” A police officer told the Press Guardian.
“I just thought you’d want to see for yourself,” he continued.
Staring down at the corpse, the Press Guardian tried to think back to the first time he’d met Detective Nicholas Baldwin. They knew each other from the army, but only slightly. The years that followed that introduction formed the bedrock to their spectacular war on crime and corruption. It would be a partnership that ended much too soon, Perry thought. The Press Guardian was solemn, but the loss was palpable. He was angry. Perry lingered on Baldwin’s lifeless face. It was horrible. He thanked the officer who’d called him, then left. Only then did he realize his critical error. Baldwin’s death must have blinded his judgment. There were too many police there, ones he didn’t know or trust. He looked at them and fifteen officers watched him walk out. It would only take one informer, he concluded. If any of those men were secretly on the mob’s payroll or a member of the party, then Perry Chase was in grave danger. He knew that he had to get out of that building immediately and get to safety. But by then, it was already too late.
If it hadn’t been pouring rain all day…
If the assassin’s shoes hadn’t squeaked on the lobby floor…
If Perry wasn’t given that millisecond to react…
That could have been the end of everything.
But by chance or fate, the Press Guardian had the opportunity to fight for his life. In the lobby, passed the stairwell, he was about to turn a corner. Then, the sole of an unseen pair of wet boots made a noise. Perry ducked. A shotgun blasted a hole in the wall next to him. He swept the leg of a tattooed killer who hit the marble floor hard. Behind that attacker was five more of the same: well-dressed, tattooed men armed to the teeth. The lobby became a shooting gallery. The Press Guardian shattered one man’s femur and broke the jaw of another. He ran. He dove. He rolled, finding cover wherever he could.
“We have a message from… the Chessman!” Their leader yelled, then let loose machine gunfire that tore the interior to pieces.
RATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATAT!
Perry hid and crawled to a mailroom. He kicked in the door to a maintenance area and prayed there was an exit, but he only found a dead-end. Three men chased behind him like rabid wolves. As soon as they ran through the door, the Press Guardian threw cleaning chemicals into one man’s eyes and tripped the gangster that followed him. Blind, desperate punches flew back and forth as the Press Guardian expertly disarmed his would-be killers. The last assassin left standing lunged at him in a close combat knife fight. As they grappled, Perry could see the man’s scarred face and the detail on each tattoo along his neck. He was as ugly as Brutalist architecture with breath like an ashtray.
“I will fucking end you!” he told Perry and slashed at the air with his blade.
The Press Guardian fought like hell, delivering a swift gab and a kick. Then, the pair thrashed each other on the floor for an eternity. In the end though, the last of them was left bloodied and unconscious like the others. On his way out, the Press Guardian realized that the lobby floor was littered with these criminals who had the same elaborate Moth tattoo: a sign of the Yaharzan mafia. Tellingly, the police were no where to be found now. The entire block was deserted. Perry stopped outside to take a deep breath and feel the cool rain against his skin. This was just the beginning, he thought. Then, hearing footsteps in the distance, he darted into the nearest alley and escaped beneath the city.
Violent Crime Drops Thanks to President’s Tough Leadership
By Andrew Andrewson | The National City Bulletin
It feels a new day across Yaharza. Where there was once fear, now there is hope. Where there was crime, there is now opportunity. For months, local and provincial officials flailed and ultimately failed to address the crime wave unleashed against our great country. Ordinary citizens were afraid to step outside and innocent lives were being lost every single day. As things got progressively worse, President Krebtz knew he had to take action, but it seemed like the opposition as always was only committed to obstructing tangible solutions. In my view, that’s when the president showed real leadership, the kind of history making decisiveness that legacies are built on. He brushed aside his critics. He studied the problem, then outlined bold plans for a safer, stronger nation. There was no time to wait, pause, or debate any longer. Security was and is essential! Today, we’re seeing the benefits of that leadership. Violent crime has been dramatically reduced and citizens can once again have peace of mind, knowing that the right man is looking out for all of us. Truly, we owe President Krebtz a great debt!
