Wednesday, 7.27PM
Downtown LA
I was cramped in places I didn’t even know I had. My cramps had cramps, and every inch of me was as stiff as it could be. I had no idea how long I could hold it.
That morning, before sunrise, I had slipped into the building. The ground floor was swarming with Rock Steady Inc thugs, and there were lookouts posted on the second and third floors. So I had to get creative. Mitchell ran a tight ship.
The building was his father’s, but old Franklin had pretty much handed the keys over to Dean, letting him handle the day-to-day running of one of the biggest real estate developers in the United States. In the meantime, Dean’s eldest brother Phillip was overseeing the running of the company as a whole, while the second brother Robert ran the international interests. The youngest Mitchell, Verona, was a part-time model and full-time socialite heiress, and spent her days partying and spending all her father’s money.
So Dean Mitchell has deep-seated middle child syndromes. Fair enough. I was still going to bring him down.
Anyway, there I was, I knew where Mitchell’s big meeting was going to be. I knew what time. I knew it was going to be heavily guarded. I even knew which conference room it was going to be in. Unfortunately, there was no way in from the ground that didn’t involve a three storey vertical leap. So I improvised. Three storeys straight up was obviously out of the question, even for me. But twenty feet across, and a few storeys down? Piece of cake. There was a garden area on the tenth floor. Thank you Google Earth.
So I snuck into the building across the street, took the elevator up to the roof and peered over the edge. I was fifteen storeys straight up. I mean, I know I’m a fast healer, but can I heal from that?
I shook my head. I didn’t have time to think like that. So I backed up to the opposite side of the roof and took my run-up, before leaping headlong off the building. I sailed across the street and hit the garden right in the middle, on the concrete, naturally.
So I laid there for about a half hour, as my organs began regenerating, and my bones cracked back into place. I don’t think I’m going to try that again anytime soon.
As soon as my kidneys stop bleeding, I’m up again, limping around the garden, looking for a way in. It doesn’t take long for me to find an air vent, and I’m in the building within minutes. It’s not often my luck turns out this way, but I was in the elevator shaft about ten minutes later.
Of course, most people don’t consider having to climb a ladder twenty storeys to be lucky, but when I hit about the halfway point, the elevator started coming up below me, and I rode it all the way up to the twenty-eighth, and it was an easy climb from there.
So I found my way into the air vents again, and crawled around until I found the room I was looking for. Naturally, there was a security camera inside, so that was where I had to stop. If Mitchell knew I was here, the meeting would be off, and I’d likely be thrown out the window. So I waited. And waited. And waited. About half a dozen meetings and twelve hours later, the security camera shut off, the light on the side blinking off. Obviously Mitchell didn’t want anyone to know what was going on up there. So I took my chance, popped the air vent out, slid through the opening and onto the floor, before replacing the air vent as best I could.
It was at this point I thought to check my recording equipment. The mic was fine, as were the wires, battery and the transmitter. Thank god, otherwise I just wasted a day, and a huge opportunity, for nothing.
I searched the room for a hiding spot, before I realised that the gigantic conference table was mostly hollow. It looked like a solid slab of marble from the outside, but the underside revealed a huge space underneath. Perfect. I positioned myself inside the hollow and began my final wait. At 5.30.
So there I was, two hours later, my arms and legs half-outstretched, half-bent, as I struggled to keep myself hidden. Sweat was beading on my forehead, and the agony racked my whole body. Hopefully it wouldn’t take much longer.
A few minutes later, I heard a sound, so I clicked on my equipment, and I heard a voice in my ear. It was O’Hara, through the earpiece he had given me the night before, along with the recording equipment.
“It got passed through the DA’s office. My guy held it off until the last minute, and the guys we know Mitchell is paying off had gone home for the night. We’re home free.” O’Hara said.
I smiled. This was it. In one fell swoop, we were going to take down the entire LA underworld.
I heard them all walk in, the old-school gangsters like Bianchi and Savagilio were easy to spot, the accents gave them away, not to mention the Italian leather shoes that were sitting a few feet from my face. Giovanni Bianchi had access to the drug that gave the Rock Steady thugs their power, they were his own personal army, to be hired out at his whim. He was probably the most powerful man in the room. Roberto Savagilio was in his sixties by now, he was the last of the old guard of Los Angeles gangsters, but he still got respect from the others, probably because of the money he still had from the old days, not to mention the fact that he had dirt on all the other major players.
“Jimmy” O’Shaunessey was easy too, he was still in his overalls and boots. He ruled the docks, no matter what anyone says to the contrary. His union connections, his money and his muscle meant that anything going through the Port of Los Angeles was reported to him, before customs, or even the other gangsters got wind of it.
Of course, then there were the gang-bangers. None of them are really worth a mention, in fact, I’m not sure why they were invited. I guess Mitchell just wanted to drive the point home.
Then the man himself walked into the room, and everything went silent.
“Alright Mitchell, what do you want?” O’Shaunessey said, his thick Boston accent cutting the silence.
“Straight to the point, as always.” Mitchell said.
“We’ve got other things to attend to boy.” Savagilio barked.
“None more important than this, I assure you.” Mitchell said.
“Dean.” Bianchi warned.
“Fine. Fine. I’ll make it short and sweet boys. I’ve had my people make the projections. At this rate, I will own every pill, every leaf and every gram of powder from the Pacific to the Rockies within two years. I will own the drug trade. I’ve already got half the city covered. My dealers have been moving in on your territories, and they’re not stopping. I own the city.” Mithcell gloated.
“I’ve been meaning to have a word with you about that Mitchell.” O’Shaunessey said. “I take it having half your boys wash up in the LA River wasn’t enough of a hint?”
“Is that a threat?” Mitchell asked.
“A threat?” O’Shaunessey laughed. “In Mr Savagilio’s day, that was a declaration of war.”
“You have a power for understatement James. In my day, calling a man into your house and throwing your defiance in his face is a declaration of war. I had that idiot Giuseppe Romano killed when he tried this crap. I know where this is leading, and I don’t like it boy.” Savagilio said.
“I have to agree with Mr Savagilio, Dean.” Bianchi said.
“I don’t care. The fact is, I own this city. If any of you want a cut of the pie, you’re going to answer to me. You’re all going to be working for me, whether you like it or not.” Mitchell said.
O’Shaunessey and half the gang-bangers were on their feet, all of them pulling guns from various hiding places.
“I see your security didn’t do a very good job downstairs Bianchi.” Mitchell said, calmly.
“I would reprimand them, but I don’t think you’re going to be causing me trouble for much longer.” Bianchi said.
“I wouldn’t be too sure. You see, right now, O’Shaunessey and all these other gun-toting idiots are having second thoughts. They don’t want to kill me anymore, do you?” Mitchell asked.
The men all switched their stances, as far as I could tell, they were pointing their guns at Bianchi instead.
“You think your powers can help you now Mitchell? You know they don’t work on me.” Bianchi said.
“They don’t have to. Kill him.” Mitchell ordered coldly.
I heard the guns fire, and Bianchi fell to the ground.
“That’s enough Shadow. We’re coming in.” O’Hara’s voice buzzed in my ear.
I grinned, they might be on their way, but not before Mitchell found out who was really behind it all. I dropped to the floor and rolled out from under the table, drawing my guns as I reached my feet.
I guess I snapped the gangbangers out of their trances, because they all started rushing for the door.
“I guess my reputation precedes me.” I said. “They understand that they need to fear me.” I looked to the three men who really controlled the criminal element, Mitchell, O’Shaunessey and Savagilio. “So why don’t you?” I looked them each in the eye, one by one. “What makes you think that I can’t touch you?”
“Because we’re untouchable.” Savagilio said.
“We rule this town. Never forget that.” O’Shaunessey said.
“Don’t banter with him. Just kill him!” Mitchell ordered.
It was at that point that the SWAT team crashed through the windows, filling the room in minutes.
“Wow Shadow. For me? You shouldn’t have.” Mitchell said.
“What are you…” Realisation dawned on me. “Nobody breathe!” I shouted, but it was too late.
At least two dozen SWAT officers levelled their guns on me.
“And that, Mr Shadow, is why I’m untouchable. Kill him.” Mitchell turned to leave the room, Savagilio and O’Shaunessey close behind.
The SWAT team opened fire, but I ducked back under the desk and chased the gangsters down the corridor. I was on Mitchell’s back in seconds, bringing him down and proceeding to punch him in the back of the head over and over again, ignoring the bullets tearing at my flesh from the SWAT team.
Eventually, O’Shaunessey pulled me off, but the damage was done. Mitchell was out cold, and within minutes the SWAT team had the three gangsters cuffed.
It was at that point that I decided to pass out.
Thursday, 10.37 PM
I woke up in unfamiliar surroundings, without my mask. I began looking around frantically.
“Don’t worry kid, no-one has any idea who you are.” O’Hara was sitting by the door.
“My mask… My costume… Where are they?” I asked.
“I had to get them off you. You know there’s a warrant out for your arrest, right? Don’t worry, none of us have ID’d you. Your costume is in that backpack over there. Your outfit is just stuff from the lost and found box. Don’t worry, you can keep it.”
“Thanks… I guess… Mitchell?”
“Is in an interrogation room. Our men have gasmasks on until the techs can come up with a better way to control him. O’Shaunessey and Savagilio are ours too, we’ve got search warrants for their homes and businesses, and our men are there as we speak. Too bad we couldn’t catch Bianchi though.”
“Bianchi is dead.”
“Well his body is gone. His blood is at the scene, but there’s no sign of him. Someone got him out of there. He could still be alive. Still, not bad for one night.”
“No. It’s not good enough. There’s still crime in this city. I still have a job to do.”