The Dark Man

Everything about this man was dark. He wore a black duster that hung to his calves and black boots that had seen many miles. A black Stetson hung low over his eyes and hid his short black hair. He was one with the shadows and used them to hide from the world. From there, he could watch, no one the wiser. Here in the city, he had numerous shadows to slip into while surveying for his prey. He saw his target a moment later, across the street from a coffee shop.

Benjamin.

The other man wore designer clothes of blue and khaki and brown loafers. He seemed polished… rich. But that never seemed to matter. No, these types came in all shapes, sizes, and, unfortunately, ages. The man’s dark eyes tracked Benjamin’s movements, a frown crossing his face for a moment.

The Dark Man slid from the shadow and followed, uncaring about how he drew eyes to himself. Once he passed them, they wouldn’t remember ever seeing him. It was his only blessing, but he had a job to do. There weren’t too many like him, and those who were—weren’t around here. No, his mission was a message from the clouds, and his job was to carry out the communication they sent him.

Benjamin turned the corner, oblivious to the threat behind him. It wouldn’t matter if he did, since the Dark Man could appear as he wished. Benjamin punched in a code at the door of an expensive high rise, slipping quickly inside, and the Dark Man caught the door with his fingertips. He nodded to the security standing in the entryway, and they nodded in return and turned away. The Dark Man walked to the stairwell, pausing only to watch the other man enter the elevator. Then he climbed the stairs with ease. It made no matter that it was twelve floors up.

He reached the landing just as the ding of the elevator echoed through the halls and he held back to watch which door Benjamin would enter. A moment later, he strode down the hall and knocked once, forceful, clear.

“Yes?”

The Dark Man shoved the man inside, turning a deaf ear to the man’s protests. He knew what he had to do. He shoved Benjamin again, knocking him down. The man still sputtered, protesting, then cried out when the Dark Man drew back his boot and kicked, hearing at least two ribs crack. He kicked again, and the third rib followed. The so-called man on the ground curled into a ball, begging him to stop, crying, tears, even. The Dark Man balled up a fist and planted it at Benjamin’s lower cheek, near his lips, loosening teeth and bloodying the nose with one hit. Benjamin cried now, hands up, yelping with another blow to the top of his head. Dark Man reached down, grasping the man’s leg at the ankle and knee. The howl that followed could have woken the dead. Cries, whimpers, and sniffles were all that followed from the beaten man.

“Perhaps this is a lesson to you,” Dark Man said. “I will pray that it is.” He crouched to the broken man who tried to scoot backward. “And if I must return, you will die.”

The Dark Man stood and strode out the door without further care. He glanced at the cameras, unworried. No one would ever find him. No, his mission was one of retribution. This was the way it had always been done, and no one would ever know who he was. The shadows hid his deeds, like the cover of closed doors hid Benjamin’s.

~

He stood outside under the gathering clouds, which created a shape only he could see and identify. The Dark Man worked his jaw in annoyance. The clouds dissipated and floated in the direction he was going. He straightened his Stetson, pulled the lapels of his duster, and strode from the shadows. It was mid-afternoon when he reached his destination and stood staring at the older style home, surrounded by a wobbly chain-link fence, with more dirt than grass yard, and an aging porch.

From where he stood, he could see into the living room where a man in a white tank top, blue jeans, and bare feet sat in a recliner, holding a beer and watching a game. Occasionally, he would cheer or curse. The Dark Man watched from the sidewalk. A dog barked in the distance, and he turned toward the noise. His face softened a slight tug at his lips. All was well.

He looked through the window once more. Time to get to work. He unlatched the gate and strode up to the porch, knocking once loudly.

“I’m coming… I’m coming.”

The Dark Man waited patiently, listening to the locks click. The front door jerked open to a red-eyed man reeking of alcohol and sweat. The Dark Man exhaled slowly, already hating this man before him. In a flash, he saw what he would have to do.

“What’d’ya want?” He lifted his beer, never taking his eyes off the uninvited guest.

“Harvey?”

“Who’s asking?” Harvey’s grip on the door tightened.

The Dark Man tilted a smile at him. In a fluid motion, he gripped the screen door handle and yanked the door open, breaking it from the hinge. Harvey made a surprised noise, then stumbled backward from the violent shove. Harvey managed to save his beer. The Dark Man reached out, ripped the bottle from Harvey’s fingertips, flipped it around, and bashed the side of his face, breaking the glass. The stocky man fell to his knees, and a boot found his ribs, cracking two right away. Harvey howled, clutching his stomach and lying on the floor, but the Dark Man wasn’t done. He hurled the rest of the bottle, grabbed the man, and punched him in the face, knocking out a tooth. Then drew back his fist and let it land in the man’s stomach, over and over.

He dropped the man and booted him again, breaking another two ribs. Harvey cried, blubbered, and tried to stop the Dark Man, who raised his foot and tromped down hard on Harvey’s two fingers. Then the Dark Man raised his fist, and Superman punched down between Harvey’s eyes. The man’s skull hit hard against the floor, and he cried out again, begging for mercy, yelping and whining. Another hit to the side of his face before The Dark Man picked him up, suspending him by the neck, feet dangling listlessly, choking. Harvey’s fingers tried to pry the man’s fingers loose. Then he squealed in fear when a fist bunched, flying into his nose, bloodying it. The Dark Man dropped Harvey, who curled into the fetal position.

“Scum… not worth this world… you better hope I do not return.”

Harvey whined and put his hands over his head.

“And one more thing,” the Dark Man said. He raised his foot and stomped down on Harvey’s thigh.

Human screams were like music to the Dark Man’s ears. With a curled, smirking smile, he walked out of the house, letting the door slam behind him. He straightened his Stetson, flicked out the sides of his duster, and strode to the fence. On the sidewalk, he listened, staring up into the sky.

Nothing.

He walked down the block and kept walking to the clinic. He found the window he needed and pushed the Stetson with one finger, peering inside. Two women hovered around a metal table with an almost motionless body. One woman had a white lab coat, and the other wore green scrubs.

“Cuts on the side of his face. I pulled out a piece of glass. Two cracked ribs on the left and two on the right. A tooth is missing. The nose cavity is caved in. Two digits broken. Blunt trauma to the head, right above and between the eyes. Broken femur. Evidence of being choked and internal damages.” The woman in the white lab coat rattled off, writing as she did so.

“Oh, poor baby,” the one in scrubs cooed.

“Internal damage too great. Damn. What did this guy use?” The woman in the coat turned and gathered a syringe and a small vial. Expertly, she inserted the needle.

“There’s nothing we can do?”

“It’s kinder this way,” the woman whispered with a sniff.

The Dark Man watched with no emotion. He knew those two had done their best. She inserted the needle into the brown furry leg and watched as the light went out of the chocolate brown eyes. The Labrador was defenseless against the one who should have cared for him. He was young and should have had a full life of head scratches and belly rubs. The Dark Man stepped away from the window and retraced his steps.

It looked like Harvey was getting another visit.