Macy's Predicament

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   Macy sat in the middle of her big bed with tears streaming down her face. She stroked Max's soft fur and every so often she produced a snow flake for him to chase. It made her laugh through her tears to watch the comical expressions he made when the cold flakes would drift down and land on his nose or melt away in his paw. It was better than when she played with him with a laser or a small flash light. He would be so triumphant when he caught the flake only to have it melt instantly, leaving him empty-pawed and confused.

What was she going to do? How had this happened? She knew so much about the people with unusual abilities. She and Jackson had discovered so much about them. But they were criminals. They needed to be brought in. Didn't they? What now? She was one of them. She hadn't asked for it. It wasn't something she had ever expected. She was likely one of the few people who didn't envy them the power they possessed. She had been grateful that she was normal. She never would have wanted to be different. To be outlawed. She was a cop! Wasn't that what Jackson always said? We're cops, for Christ’s sake! His voice echoed in her head.

Jackson! What was he going to think if he found out? He would look at her differently. He might even resent her. Hate her. Believe she had been hiding something from him all this time. She couldn't bear the thought of her partner thinking she was some sort of... weird... super freak! She sobbed again. And the Chief! She'd heard him today. The Chief had it in for the vigilantes. She thought maybe he was a little afraid of them. He wasn't afraid of much but she thought he might be intimidated by them. What would he think of her if he found out? What then? She would lose her job. Lose her partner. She would be outcast from the only people she had ever felt close to and loved.

She fell back on her bed and cried harder. Max stared at her a moment and then got up and went over to her. He stepped up onto her tummy and pulled himself all the way up. He stepped forward gingerly and sniffed her tear-streaked face. Turning on his loud motor he began to lick the salty tears from her cheeks. Macy giggled through her sobs and stroked him.

"Thank you, Maxie. You are such a good kitty. You would never hate me, would you?" She smiled and yawned. Soon she was fast asleep with her cat curled comfortably in the crook of her neck fast asleep as well.

...........

His eyes snap open as he looks around the familiar room. He has grown used to the dark shadows cast from different objects and furniture. He stands and goes to the small trap door to retrieve his gear. He dresses quickly and leaves in silence. When he gets in his car, he pulls the small monitor down. "Greetings, Father Time." He hears the familiar robotic voice say.

"Hello, car... err... Orion. I think we'd better go check on our friend, Harley Chase."

"Which address would you like to check, sir?"

"All of the ones marked with the asterisk starting with the closest."

"As you wish."

He types in some information and pulls up Harley's photo. His brows furrow as he thinks about his approach. Harley has no wife. Many women work for him and he sleeps with different ones every night. This would be a problem if he were unable to catch Harley alone. He needs to figure out a way to eliminate him without hurting an innocent girl, without her being blamed, and without her remembering what happened.

"Would you enjoy some light jazz while we travel, sir?"

"Do not ask me silly questions."

"My apologies, sir. We shall arrive at your first destination in four minutes, 32 seconds."

He pulls up a view of the address they are approaching and zooms in. It is a large, two-story home. He studies the landscape and layout carefully. When they arrive on the street, he pulls the cloaking lever and scans the quiet neighborhood. There is no movement. No signs of anyone alert anywhere. They pull into the long drive, still cloaked. He takes in the darkened windows. There is a small window on the garage door. He hops out once he is sure the coast is clear and approaches the small window. He raises himself up and looks inside. There is no car in the garage.

Like a cat, he creeps around to the back and climbs the wall, landing lightly on the roof of the garage. He steps silently over to the wall that would take him to the roof of the second story of the house and somehow finds footholds to carry him up. He makes his way over to where he knows the master bedroom will be. He swings himself up over the side and alights on a balcony. The shades are parted and he looks into the empty bedroom.

Not here? He thinks, disappointed. Next house.

He swings up onto the railing and drops down to the grass below. Keeping to the shadows, he creeps back around and disappears into the car. "Next." He growls.

"No luck, sir?"

"Would I be sitting here?"

"Of course not, sir."

He really needs to look into his vehicle and find out more about it. Suddenly it crosses his mind. Maybe it is time to find out more about them both. A strange buzzing feeling shoots through his head, or rather, it feels more like it shoots through his brain. He shakes his head to try to clear it. His mind refocuses on the mission. The prey. Harley Chase. This man needs to be taken out and that is all he is here for. Nothing else matters.

They arrive at the next address and he checks the garage. This time he sees a car parked inside. He creeps around back and notices a light on upstairs. His grits his teeth as anticipation quickens his pulse. The emblem on his chest crackles with electricity and his eyes glow. He climbs the wall to the roof and creeps silently to the lighted window. He ropes a chimney and holding tightly to it, he stands on the ledge and leans out until he is eye level with the window and can see inside.

It is an office and there is Harley. He sits at a desk staring at a computer screen. Suddenly he stands up and stretches. He goes out of the office and shuts the door. Father Time draws himself back upright onto the roof. He creeps over to where the bedroom would be and sees the light go on in there. He hears laughter. A woman. He listens. The laughter stops and there is talking. This is going to take finesse. Harley isn’t alone as he had hoped.

He lowers himself to the balcony and stands in the shadows. The conversation from inside is becoming heated. Or rather, Harley seems to have become heated. The girl isn’t arguing. She seems compliant, but he is yelling at her. The girl begins to cry. She is whimpering. Pleading with Harley but it seems to only make him angrier.

The masked figure chances a glance into the room from his place in the shadows. He sees a young girl lying face down on the bed. Harley is tying her up. He quickly pulls his head back, waiting. The sliding door might be locked. There could be an alarm. He decides to play it safe. He silently swings back to the ground and creeps back to the car. Once inside, he waits for two minutes. Then he punches a few controls and feels the surge as the entire property loses all power and communication capability.

Knowing what he is doing is risky because the people inside are still awake, he quickly makes his way back to the balcony. This might be his only chance. He risks a peek inside and sees by the moonlight that Harley has played right into his hands. He has blindfolded the girl. If he is aware that his power is out, he doesn’t appear to be concerned. He stands over the whimpering girl with an evil looking whip in his hand.

.............

Harley begins to terrorize his captive prey by drawing the whip slowly over her naked skin prolonging her fear of the lash. She is sobbing and completely blinded by the scarf he has tied tightly over her eyes. She is face down and spread eagle, each limb handcuffed to a different post. Harley savors her terror and tells her to keep crying. That it turns him on. He whispers in her ear to go ahead and scream. No one can hear her.

He feels his cock harden even more as he raises the whip high over his head. He swings it, using the full force of his strength, but gasps when it stops short and he nearly falls backward onto his ass. It has caught on something behind him.

"What the fu---" His words drop off as he turns to find out what he has caught it on. Standing right behind him, not even an arm's length away, is the most frightening... person? Being? .....he has ever seen in his life. The end of his whip is grasped tightly in a black-gloved hand. Harley looks at the whip handle he is holding and suddenly throws it away from him in horror, as if he has no idea how it had got there. 

The dark figure doesn’t move. It just stands there staring at him through eyes that crackle with the same greenish electric static that is emanating from a symbol on his chest.

"Wh-wh-wha---?" Harley stammers. Fear fills his stomach and empties his bladder in unison.

"Harley Chase," a voice purrs from behind the mask. It almost sounds to Harley as if it has come from all around him. His eyes dart around the room in a panic. "You have been sentenced to death for your crimes against humanity. Those you have already committed and those you have yet to commit."

"W-wait... wh-who are... wh-what are you?"

"I am retribution. Justice. Your worst nightmare. Your judge, jury, and executioner. There is no room for the likes of you in the future of the people of this planet. Prepare to be extinguished."

Harley wants to move. He wants to run. To make a move for his nightstand where he keeps a .45. He wants to scream. He wants to beg forgiveness. To plead for mercy. His body refuses to comply. Not his legs. Not his voice. Not his arms. He can’t move. Faintly he hears the girl whimpering. Begging someone to tell her what is going on. He doesn’t answer. She will be of no use. He knows she can’t save his ass. He realizes that no one can. He can only watch as death swings toward him in slow motion. He stands there and hopes, prays even, that it will be over quickly.

He feels a rending as a fist brakes through his chest. His eyes move down and he watches in horror as his heart is ripped out of his body, slowly and with such excruciating pain that he can’t believe he hasn’t passed out. It is still beating. He is staring at his own beating heart. He hears a hair-raising howl of pain. It challenges every cry of agony he has ever caused his victims to utter when he tortured them.

The realization that he is the one screaming finally hits him as everything starts to go black. Starts to. For a moment he is grateful that he is going to be dead and free from the pain, but suddenly it all starts over again. What the...? He watches in horror as the black gloved hand once again shoots toward him in slow motion. His eyes widen with horror as, again, he feels it breaking through his chest, the searing pain like none he has ever imagined possible, as the hand grips his heart. He feels the shock as the pain intensifies when his still beating heart is ripped, again in slow motion, from his chest cavity and shown to him. Once again he feels a feeling of relief as his world begins to grow dark. Just as the pain and his consciousness begin to fade, he finds himself wide awake once again, watching the oncoming hand. This can’t be happening. Is it a dream? A very bad, very realistic dream? Can you feel pain in dreams? He doesn’t think you can.

The agonizing scene continues to play out. Harley wants to beg for mercy. To plead for forgiveness, but there is only pain and fear. Over and over. At some point his mind begins to crack along with his body. After about the 10th time, his thoughts begin bouncing around his head, not making sense anymore. He begins to hear strange, far away voices. They are laughing at him. They are enjoying his agony.

Somehow being laughed at while he is dying... having someone enjoying his agony.... is just as horrible as the pain he is feeling. There is nothing he can do about it. Faces begin to swim before his mind's eye. Faces from the past. Young girls. Men. Women. People he had killed or hurt. People he had taken pleasure in torturing. They are all reveling in his fear and anguish. They mock him and laugh at him hysterically. His pain and his death make them deliriously happy. Finally his mind snaps.

.................

Harley's conscious mind is long gone before Father Time allows him to rest in peace, if that is even possible for the likes of him. In normal time, he whispers to the girl to be at peace. That she will be alright. The cuffs fall away from her hands and feet and she sits up and spins around in fear. She rips the scarf from her eyes.

"Harley?" she whispers. There is no one there. She crawls to the edge of the bed. Something has just happened, but she can't remember....

She hops off the bed. Has he gone to the restroom? She checks. He isn't there. The house is dark. She tries to turn on a light, but none seem to be working. She walks out of the bedroom into the hall and calls again, "Harley, where are you?"

All at once the power is restored. She looks in his office. Had he come into the room? Yes, he had. She had been handcuffed, but... did he unlock them and then hide? Where is he? She searches. She searches the entire house. She finds his cell phone still in the office. She never finds him.

Edited.

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