Rue: The Shattering Part 3

Beatification

Just as painfully revolted by maggots or rot or age or as some people are, The Revolver Saint revolted me. East Fredricksburg had commissioned the white and red Kevlar wearing vigilante after the initial Sleeper attacks. When the wall first fell, The Revolver Saint had appeared in ragged priest garb, blasting away at Sleepers assaulting a church. The battle caused such a commotion that East Fredricksburg snatched up the conquering hero and poured money into an advertising campaign. Compliance levels shot through the roof as thieves were hunted through the streets and left in a pool of blood by the city’s new hero.

I despised cleaning up after their little toy’s mess. Most of the thieves weren’t the guilty party; they were just photogenic and would make good “villains.” The Corps wanted good TV because good TV made people complacent and compliant. It was maddening some days, heading into work with the plan to bust a crime ring and finding out that an apartment complex full of innocent people had been slaughtered instead. I wasn’t about to turn this one over to them though. This had gone on too long. I’d give their little show a twist they weren’t expecting.

My car switched off and I put it into park and got out. No pro-tabs yet. Look worn out, wrung out, tired and irritable. With my hands buried in my pockets, I stomped and stumped into the seedy Starlite Hotel.

“Evening Detective Chadwick.”

It was one of the E.F.’s film crew. Mickey, I think his name was. I grunted a response and kept going. He was a good kid but I needed to stay angry if this was going to work.

Down the hall I went, grunting responses to those around me as they spoke. It amused me to no end that the reporters clotting themselves together along the artery of a hallway were all from the same company, yet were for some reason vying for position. I broke through their tight packed scab of a mob and continued plodding forward. Just a couple doors away now and things were looking up. I would be face to helmet with The Revolver Saint in a moment and the shit would hit the fan.

“Ah, Detective Chadwick! Come in, come in. We were waiting for you to arrive. Our hero here has put an end to the killings plaguing our fair Chrysalis Falls!”

I smiled bitterly at Bruce Falci, The Revolver Saint’s publicity agent, and looked for the corpse. He was in his mid-twenties and had five holes double the size of my fist blown in him. I knelt next to the body and pulled a set of tweezers from my coat pocket. I poked at various bits of dust on the corpse, pretending to do some investigative work.

“Detective Chadwick? What are you doing? We already told you…”

“This man wasn’t alone.”

There were gasps from everyone in the room barring The Revolver Saint. I didn’t have time for that fool just yet though.

“Look here at his hand size. It fits the hand size that broke the victim’s joints, I’ll wager, but it’s much too large for the previous crime. Furthermore…”

I pulled up the perp’s sleeve and showed his pasty white arm off to the room.

“His muscle tone isn’t consistent with the ability to crush a person’s joints. The one doing that much is considering larger even than I am.”

“The suspect was in the room alone when I shot him Rue.”

“Then you got here late Saint. That’s all there is to it.”

That caused quite the stir behind me from the cacophony of reporters and suddenly there was a hand on my arm. I jerked my arm free and walked up the The Revolver Saint. My eyes peered deep into the red cross The Saint peered out of.

“Looks like you screwed up this time and let one get away.”

“No one ever gets away.”

I snickered and licked my lips. Just a little further, I had to push it just a little further.

“You say that now, but where’s the culprit? All it looks like to me is that you wasted a perfectly good source of information. I have to think the folks at home would’ve loved to see the person that did this squeal under a compression collar on The Hill.”

“I would’ve loved for his interrogation and execution to be televised. However, he resisted.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure it’s not just because you’re pissed he took part in torturing another woman to death Ms. Saint?  Personally, I would've done the same.  But why the coverup?”

As soon as the words left my mouth, Falci’s eyes went wide and he signaled for the guards to drag me off. No one touched me though.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“For the folks at home left a little clueless right now, The Revolver Saint, that burly engine of justice, is a woman. For some reason, your company doesn't like a woman in power.  For some reason, your company felt it necessary to hide the fact that you're dealing justice to everyone that deserves.  What are they making you hide now?”

There were several arms wrapped around mine but before anyone could pull me out of the room, a body-armored fist smashed into my jaw. I feigned a stagger and let the guards catch me. I winked at Falci, who was turning blood red, and let them carry me out. Let’s see how effective you are now Saint. Let’s see just how well you can hide your bloodlust while everyone watches.

“Why’d you do that Morgan? I know you’re not a sexist ass. If you were, I’d have left you a long time ago.”

Amy.

“Because I hate media junkies. If she wants the spotlight on her, then I’ll crank up the juice. I’m tired of The Revolver Saint having license to murder innocents for because it's good ratings. We’re going to solve this and bring a little bit of honor back to the justice system.”

“Morgan?”

“Yeah Amy?”

“I love you.”

“Love you too baby.”