Supernatural Vigilante Association – The Mentalist
Read Part One here I sat upon the cold metal chair located inside of an abandoned warehouse on the city’s outskirts. It was cold and dark, with the only illumination coming for the battery-powered lantern sitting on the table in front of me. The location was not of my choosing and it conjured dark images in my mind. In fact, my imagination ran wild as I waited on my source. This would be the perfect place for a summary execution. For security reasons, nobody knew where exactly I was – not even my editor. I wondered whether Mandrake had chosen this venue intentionally as a means of intimidating me. But I had to trust my source even though he was a man with a proven track record of brutal violence. Mandrake was determined to tell his story while he still had the chance, and I was the journalist he’d chosen to speak with. The vigilante leader was thinking about his legacy now…about how he’d be remembered. Knowing the man like I did, I was sure Mandrake wouldn’t allow himself to be taken alive. Sooner or later, he would go down in a blaze of glory. I just hoped I wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire when he did. I glanced down at my watch for what must have been the hundredth time. Mandrake was over half an hour late and I was becoming increasingly concerned by his tardiness. My mind raced with the possibilities. Had the cops or bounty hunters tracked him down? Was it all over? Or had he simply had a change of heart? Mandrake couldn’t have been happy with the outcome of the Tabitha investigation. Did he blame me for what happened to her? I shivered as I sat and waited, shaking my head as I tried to dismiss my paranoia. Our previous meeting at the Sanctuary Hotel had been a risk, and I’d almost taken a bullet for my troubles. But the story I came away with was a revelation – a unique insight into a secretive vigilante group who had long operated from the shadows. I knew I was on the cusp of a huge scoop which would reveal the truth to the public and launch my career into the stratosphere. Call it vanity or stubbornness, but I couldn’t walk away from this story, even though my life and liberty may be at risk. It wasn’t just Mandrake and his army of fanatics I had to worry about. After the Tabitha interview went out, I’d been brought in for questioning by federal agents. They’d pressed me hard for information on the illusive Mandrake – his state of mind, how he contacted me, his current whereabouts…and so on. I’d given them the bare minimum of information, maintaining my journalistic integrity as I insisted on protecting my sources. Eventually, the newspaper’s lawyers were able to get me released without charge. But the feds made it clear this wasn’t over, making obscure references to anti-terrorist legislation and national security. And then there was Hennessey – the determined private investigator who’d tracked Mandrake down to the hotel. Over the previous few days I’d had the unpleasant feeling I was being followed as I went about my day-to-day business. At first I thought it was my paranoia playing up, but then I caught a glimpse of Hennessey whilst I was walking to my office. The PI must be keeping tabs on me in the hope I will lead him to Mandrake. I’d taken all the precautions I could whilst travelling to the location that night, but I still feared the PI would track us down. Hennessey would stop at nothing to claim the substantial bounty on Mandrake’s head, which would be paid whether the target was dead or alive. He was hunting the vigilante leader down, but Mandrake could get to Hennessey too, as evidenced by a recent assassination attempt. The cops had tried to cover it up, but I’d got word of a car bomb attack on the PI’s vehicle. Thankfully for Hennessey’s sake, the device had failed to detonate. Nevertheless, this was now a deadly game of cat and mouse, and I was stuck in the middle. I was still considering this dangerous situation and questioning my own sanity when I heard the ominous sound of footsteps behind me. I turned slowly and saw a figure emerging from the shadows and marching across the concrete towards me. “Mr Carter. Please excuse my tardiness.” said the familiar voice. I squinted to get a better look at the man as the light from the lantern illuminated his face. It was Mandrake of course, but his appearance was different from the last time we’d met. Even in the unsavoury environment of the squalid hotel, Mandrake had maintained his dignity and self-confidence – standing tall and immaculately turned out in his finely tailored suit. But the man I now saw before me looked like a shadow of his former self – his suit torn and stained, his face unshaven and drawn. Mandrake was clearly on edge and even his voice seemed to have lost some of its previous authority. I wondered what had happened to the vigilante leader to pull him down. Had the pressure and stress of being on the run finally got to him? I didn’t comment on his physical state – although it did concern me, particularly given the wild look present in his dark eyes. I recalled hearing how wild animals were the most dangerous when cornered and thought this might also apply to human beings. Nevertheless, the dishevelled Mandrake strode across the warehouse floor and took his seat across from me, smiling faintly as he looked me up and down. “Well Mr Carter. I want to thank you for coming tonight. Much has happened since our last conversation.” “Indeed.” I replied thoughtfully. A pause followed as if Mandrake expected me to say more. “Have you been able to speak with her?” Mandrake eventually asked. I knew precisely who he was referring to and shook my head in the negative. “I’m afraid not. I’ve made repeated attempts to visit Tabitha in custody, but so far the prison authorities have blocked all my requests.” Mandrake’s face screwed up as he scoffed in utter contempt. “You understand now, Mr Carter…You can see the lengths the government will go to. What they’re prepared to do to maintain control…to ensure their own twisted monopoly on violence and so-called ‘justice’.” I sensed that Mandrake was about to launch into one of his characteristic tirades where he attempted to justify his heinous actions. I wanted to shut him down, but in truth there was little I could say – because Tabitha’s case didn’t sit easy with me. I had only met the voodoo priestess briefly, but I felt like we made a connection during our short interview. I had sympathy for Tabitha after hearing her story, and the woman had shown genuine remorse when she’d handed herself in and made a full confession. Her case was indeed an interesting one, as Tabitha had used her powers to punish and ultimately kill a wife-murderer. But the DA elected not to bring her to trial as they believed a conviction was unlikely. Tabitha had acted in self-defence after all, albeit in a rather unconventional way. That should have been the end of the matter, but the feds weren’t willing to let Tabitha walk free, and so she was being held under anti-terrorist laws at an undisclosed location. I was certainly not a supporter of the SVA and didn’t condone their activities, but I struggled to justify the government’s draconian actions against them. Mandrake must have picked up on my discomfort, and he decided to press me on the matter. “You still believe we’re the bad guys, don’t you?” he sneered, “Surely you don’t really believe the government is on the right side of this?” I took a breath, carefully considering my next words before delivering an answer.“I still believe in the system, despite its flaws.” Mandrake’s response to my statement surprised me, because he burst into mocking laughter. “You believe in the ‘system’?” he exclaimed, “Tell me Carter…Do you pray to the system at night? Does the system shower you with love and devotion? Will your precious system keep you safe and warm when evil comes knocking on your door?” I’ll admit to acting unprofessionally as Mandrake’s mocking words got under my skin. I struggled to keep my anger in check as I looked the vigilante straight in the eye and spoke through clenched teeth. “Tell me Mandrake, does your hatred keep you warm at night?” A tense pause followed as the ruthless killer glared at me with his cold, dark eyes. I feared Mandrake would react with violence, but instead he formed his lips into a hideous grin before he answered. “Indeed it does, Mr Carter. The mission of righteous vengeance is my life’s work. I regret nothing…” His words chilled me and I could no longer meet the killer’s hard gaze. I could never forget who Mandrake truly was – a violent fanatic who believed the ends always justified the means. But the man himself was something of an enigma. Mandrake was an alias and not his real name, and it had proved nearly impossible to confirm his real identity. What was his history? What made him tick? And how had he gathered an army of extraordinary people with supernatural powers to do his bidding? These were all mysteries I intended to solve, but not tonight. “You have someone else for me to meet? A former SVA man with a story to tell?” I asked, directing the conversation back to business. “Yes.” Mandrake answered with a firm nod of his head, “The individual in question is waiting for you, inside the black van parked outside. You will have to meet with him alone. I must warn you Carter, this man’s unique experiences have left him somewhat damaged. He is not good around people I’m afraid, so you might encounter some challenges with your interview. Still, I’m sure a journalist as talented as you will be able to complete the job.” I wasn’t sure whether Mandrake was being sarcastic or not, but nevertheless I shakingly got up on my feet and make for the exit at the far end of the abandoned warehouse, not turning around as Mandrake called after me. “Good luck Mr Carter. I’ll be here waiting for you when you’re done.” I walked out the front of warehouse, shivering under the dark sky as I scanned the perimeter and quickly found the van parked at the far end of the empty parking lot. I did pause for a moment before proceeding, as I wondered why this unidentified vigilante would not leave the vehicle and come out to meet me. This was another risk, a further delve into danger…but I felt I was beyond the point of no return. With a shaking hand, I opened the sliding door on the side of the van and awkwardly climbed inside. There I found a thin and dishevelled man with wild hair and heavy bags under his eyes. He glared at me with suspicion, clicking his tongue before he spoke in little more than a whisper. “Please man, close the door.” I obliged, pulling the door shut and adjusting my eyes to the dark interior, with the only dim illumination coming from the small light on the front dashboard. My source remained hidden in the shadows, his bloodshot eyes glaring out at me from the darkness. I reckoned he was trying to size me up, but there was something very unsettling about his cold stare, and I felt very exposed in that moment. Nevertheless, I swallowed my anxiety and did my best to break the ice with the stranger.“How are you doing sir?” I said, whilst extending my hand in friendship. “My name’s Carter, and I’m here to listen to your story.” The man looked down at my hand as if it disgusted him, and he would not shake.“I know who you are.” he replied after an uncomfortable pause, “In fact, I am very familiar with you, Mr Carter.” The way he said this made me even more uncomfortable, but I feigned a smile and continued the conversation. “I see. Has Mandrake filled you in? Or perhaps you’ve read my articles?” I asked.The man’s eyes narrowed and he snorted in contempt before answering. “Oh, I know your work Carter. I’ve read the lies you’ve written about me and my comrades…but that’s not what I mean. I didn’t know the truth about you until you stepped inside this vehicle. But it’s all clear to me now. I can read you like an open book Carter. I see your arrogance, your self-righteous world view…but most of all, I see the ugly ambition you carry with you…that drives you. You want to win a Pulitzer, right? You crave fame, recognition and fortune…and you think Mandrake and his army of freaks is your ticket to success. Does that sound about right, Mr Carter?” My jaw dropped as I stared at the vindicative man in disbelief. I felt like I’d been assaulted, with all my worst personality traits laid bare. For a moment I was in shock, but my brain soon put the pieces together, and I realised who I was talking to. “Your name is Quinn.” I said with some certainty, “You’re wanted on two counts of first-degree murder…and you can read minds.” Quinn managed to produce a thin smile on his dry lips as he clicked his fingers.“You got it in one Carter.” he confirmed, “No wonder you’re a journalist.” My feelings in that moment were mixed. I was nervous to be in the presence of yet another ruthless killer, especially one who was clearly hostile towards me. Nevertheless, I also felt excitement – because the man before me was infamous, and his story would be a huge scoop. I desperately wanted to progress with the interview but knew I’d need to proceed with caution. “Well Mr Quinn, I understand you don’t like me. And perhaps you have a point. I do hope to progress my career through this story. But that doesn’t mean our arrangement can’t be mutually beneficial. You and your comrades want the world to hear your side of the story, and I can give you this audience.” It was a cynical ploy, but an honest one. I believed this was my best path because Quinn would know if I lied to him. However, he seemed less than impressed by my pitch as he sighed deeply and rolled his eyes. Nevertheless, he opened up to me and agreed to answer my questions. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?” I said, “When did you first become aware of your special abilities?” “My curse, you mean.” Quinn snarled, “I guess I was born with it. I remember a muddle of thoughts and voices in my head from a young age. It used to upset me greatly until I learnt how to manage and understand these thoughts, which I realised were not my own.Now, you’ve surely heard of highly empathetic people who are able to pick up on emotions and read body language. That’s a real thing, but it’s not what I do. People like me are few and far between, because we can actually read people’s thoughts. And I don’t just know what goes through a person’s head at a given moment. I know their dreams, their secrets, and their plans.” He sighed, taking a deep breath before continuing. “The first time it really hit home was shortly after my tenth birthday. I tried not to read the thoughts of my parents and sister. Even at a young age, I realised this was an invasion of privacy. My curse isn’t like a tap, and I can’t switch it off altogether. But I’ve learnt ways of drowning out the noise, at least when I’m in small groups.Still, around that time I realised something was off with my dad. He wasn’t acting like himself and I was genuinely worried about him. That’s why I decided to listen in. Well, to cut a long story short, I found out he was cheating on my mum. It was devastating to learn this secret at such a young age, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.Eventually I did confront my father once I realised he intended to leave us for his mistress. Dad was shocked when I told him what I knew, and he couldn’t understand how I’d found him out…” I could hear the emotion in Quinn’s voice and realised this was a painful memory for him to recount. I considered telling him how sorry I was, but I doubted he’d believe me. “So, tell me Mr Quinn. How did you end up joining the SVA? How did Mandrake find you?”Quinn snorted, the thin smile returning to his lips and a spark lighting up in his dark eyes. “Actually, Mandrake didn’t find me. I sought him out and offered my services to his organisation.” I raised my eyebrow, puzzled but eager to learn more. “The incident which changed my life’s trajectory happened when I was a freshman in college. I guess I had mastered my powers by this age, as far as was possible. I was never good in large groups or crowds. The cocophony of thoughts could be enough to overwhelm my senses.Relationships were always difficult. There is such a thing as knowing too much about someone. But I’m not going to talk about that. One thing I learnt after my father’s betrayal was this – it’s the dark secrets that weigh a person down. The anger and obsession, the guilt and anxiety…this is what comes to the fore. Those wicked thoughts tend to be the strongest. Well, that’s what I discovered the hard way.” I knew this story wouldn’t end well but I needed to learn more, and so I urged Quinn to go on. “Well, there was this girl I was seeing. Jenny was her name.” he explained, “We went out together for a while. I really liked her, but it didn’t last. Unfortunately, intimacy is difficult for me compared to…normal people. But I’m not getting into it.” Quinn emitted yet another heavy sigh and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. “Well, anyway…Jenny started seeing this other guy who lived in our dorm. The guy’s name was Karl and he was on the football team. You know the type – a jock…popular, handsome, and confident. Sure I was jealous, but it was more than that. I sat behind Karl in class and started reading his mind. On the surface he was cool and charming, but Karl carried a rage inside of him. He was insecure and paranoid and took his anger out on Jenny. I knew he’d gotten physical with her and reckoned it would only get worse. But what could I do? Well, I still believed in the rules back them. I spoke to campus security and they were no help. Then I went to the cops, but there was no evidence…and what could I tell them? In the end, Jenny wound up in hospital. She survived but with permanent nerve damage and who knows what kind of mental trauma. Karl was eventually arrested but got off with a bullshit probation. So, as you can guess, this didn’t sit right with me. I knew I had this power – more of a curse than a gift. But still, I realised that I could do some good…that I could prevent crimes yet to happen. My mission would be to save the innocent and punish the guilty. That’s why I sought out Mandrake and joined the SVA.” I nodded my head in understanding. Quinn’s journey towards vigilantism made sense now. Whether it was morally justified or not was another question however. “So, can you tell me what work you did for the SVA?” I enquired cautiously. “It didn’t always come to murder.” Quinn explained, “Sometimes the target just got a warning. Other times, a beating or kneecapping. But we didn’t hesitate to take out hardened killers or child molesters. They were fair game. At first I worked with others in the organisation, but after a while I hunted alone.” “Hunted?” I interjected in shock. “Sure.” Quinn said with a wicked smile on his lips, “What else would you call it?I paused for a moment as I carefully considered my next question. But this was of course pointless, because Quinn knew what I was going to ask before I did. “You want to hear about the Hall murder. That’s why you’re here, right?”I nodded my head, unable to hide my enthusiasm. “What happened that night, Quinn?” I asked. The vigilante stared at his feet for a long time. I feared Quinn might not tell his sorry tale, but eventually he did speak up. “It was a standard operation. A random hunt. That’s to say, I wasn’t chasing a specific target. Instead, I frequented a dive bar on the wrong side of the tracks. This was an establishment where shady characters and low-level criminals were known to hang out. Now, normally I hate going inside of crowded places. The background noise is too much. But, when you’re on a hunt, you need to filter out the BS and home in on your target.” “So, that’s how you identified Mr Hall?” I interjected. “Yeah.” Quinn confirmed with a nod, “But he wasn’t the only monster I found that night.”I frowned in confusion, as this story wasn’t going the way I expected. “What do you mean?” I asked in confusion. “I had my target that night. Hall was one evil bastard. But you knew that, right? What he did to his own daughter?” I nodded my head as the vile details of the case came to mind. Mr Hall was a monster in plain sight – a prolific paedophile of the worst kind. It was difficult to argue he hadn’t deserved his fate. “Imagine how I felt when I looked inside that twisted monster’s mind. I saw what he’d done…what he planned to do. It took everything in me not to beat him to death right there in the bar. But this wasn’t my first rodeo and I knew what needed to be done. I would wait until Hall left the bar, follow him out…and put the animal down. Easy, right? Well, I was waiting patiently at the bar when I picked up the frequency of a second target.” “Another criminal?” I exclaimed. “That’s right.” Quinn confirmed, “Two scumbags on the one night. What are the odds? The second man was called Sanchez. He came in around 10ish and started hitting the bottle hard. I could tell the guy was on edge and so – against my better judgement – I listened in.” “What was he thinking?” I prompted. “Sanchez was thinking about murder.” Quinn answered coldly, “The guy wasn’t exactly a gangster. He was a businessman who’d fallen on hard times and had been stealing from the company accounts. His partner found out and threatened to go to the cops. Well, you can probably guess the rest of it. Sanchez was desperate and had a loaded gun in his pocket. He planned to kill his business partner that very night and was working up to doing it, using the booze for some Dutch courage.” “Jesus.” I swore, hardly believing what I was hearing. “Yeah, you can see my conundrum.” Quinn said, “Some might call it an impossible decision. I had two targets in the same bar, both planning to commit horrific acts on that very night. One would return home and do unspeakable things to his daughter, and the second was going out to kill an innocent man.” I considered asking Quinn what he chose to do but I already knew the answer. “If I had more time I would’ve called in a second hitman.” Quinn continued solemnly, “But Hall went to leave two minutes later. I needed to make a split-second decision, and that’s what I did…” Quinn paused again, swallowing as he broke off eye contact. “There’s no way I could let that child abuser walk away and so I followed him out onto the street.” I sat forward, enthralled by Quinn’s account and hanging on his every word. “I waited until he was on his own, cornering him on an empty side street. Hall wasn’t a big guy but I was taking no chances. There’s no way of knowing how someone will react when they’re taken by surprise. But, as it turned out, I needn’t have worried – because the bastard was nothing more than a coward.” I saw the twisted smile on Quinn’s crusty lips and it brought a cold chill up my spine. “I came up behind him with my trusty stiletto in hand. It wasn’t the first time I’d done this, so I used a tried and tested technique to overcome the target. I grabbed the bastard from behind, holding my knife to his throat and covering his mouth with my gloved hand.Hall squealed like a pig and tried to break free, but I held him tight and drew blood from his exposed neck. ‘Don’t make a sound,’ I whispered to him, “Don’t resist, or I’ll slit your fucking throat.’ Hall froze in terror and I used my brute strength to drag him off the street and down a dark alley. I didn’t miss a beat as I threw the bastard down onto the trash cans, experiencing a grim satisfaction as I watched him squirm in the dirt. Hall tried to get back on his feet but I punched him hard in the stomach and pinned him against the wall. The coward pleaded for his life, saying he could give me money. I guess he thought it was a mugging but I soon set the creep straight. ‘I know what you’ve done, Mr Hall.” I told him, “I know your secret. Now is the time for your reckoning, you sick fuck.” Quinn paused for a moment and smiled. “Not my best sign off, but the words had the desired effect. I took pleasure in my target’s reaction, his eyes widening in sheer terror once he realised the game was up. And I didn’t hesitate – stabbing him repeatedly in the chest and stomach. It was a frenzied attack to be honest, as I totally lost control and cut the bastard to pieces.” He sighed and lowered his head. “Well, you saw the crime scene photos Carter.” I had, and the brutality of the murder was undeniable. “I allowed myself a moment to watch Hall bleed out,” Quinn continued, “And then I fled from the scene. Normally I would go straight to a safe house and destroy all forensic evidence linking me to the crime. Everything was prepared in advance. But that night was different. I thought there was still time, you see. I believed I could stop Sanchez from murdering his business partner…if I acted fast. “You went back there?” I asked excitedly. “Yeah.” Quinn replied with a nod, “It was a crazy move, and I was putting myself at risk. My clothes were covered in Hall’s blood and I would certainly be charged with murder if the cops caught me. But I had to try…” “What happened at the bar?” I asked. “He’d already left.” Quinn confirmed solemnly, “But I didn’t give up. I had an image in my head – a thought stolen from Sanchez’s mind. There was a gas station which I recognised, not far from the barroom. I knew Sanchez’s plan and realised this was where he intended to ambush his target. Well, I jumped into my car and drove there without delay. But I’m afraid I was already too late.” I could see Quinn’s emotions were getting the better of him and swore I could see a teardrop forming in the corner of his eye. “I arrived to bedlam. There were cops all over the forecourt and an ambulance parked on the sidewalk. I saw the victim’s car – a black BMW riddled with bullets. I was parked at the end of the street but could only watch as the paramedics took a badly wounded man out from the driver’s seat. There was a woman sitting on the curb with a cop standing over her. She didn’t seem to be hurt, but her clothes and face were covered in blood, and her eyes were wide with shock. They loaded the man onto a stretcher and rushed him to the ambulance. He was still alive but in a bad way. Still, I thought the victim might pull through. But a moment later and they opened the back door and removed a second body with half his head blown away. The backseat passenger was only a child – eleven or twelve at the most. Clearly the kid was dead. And when the woman saw him, she screamed bloody murder – collapsing down to the asphalt as the grief overcame her. I felt sick to my stomach as reality hit home, and a guilt latched onto me that would never let go.” “My God!” I exclaimed in genuine shock. I thought back to the night of Hall’s murder and recalled the fatal shooting which had occurred on the same night. I hadn’t made the connection between the two incidents at the time, assuming they were unrelated acts of violence. But now it all made sense. “So,” I said carefully, “You killed a man to save a child…” “But another kid died because of my decision.” Quinn shot back bitterly. “I don’t condone what you did, but you can’t hold yourself response for that boy’s death. You didn’t shoot him.” “True.” Quinn replied, “And perhaps I could have lived with the guilt. But unfortunately, this wasn’t the end of it.” I raised my eyebrow, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end as I eagerly awaited the conclusion of Quinn’s extraordinary tale. “Sanchez was caught by the cops before we could get to him. They had enough evidence to bury him, and the judge rightly gave the bastard the death penalty. He’s still waiting on his sentence to this day in fact. Well, the whole episode hit me hard. I got the usual pep talk from Mandrake but the guilt was eating away at me. Honestly, I’d had my fill of death and violence and was ready to give up on the vigilante business. I went off the rails and started drinking heavily. This was the only way I could drown out the voices invading my consciousness. But the alcohol also dulled my natural defences, so I didn’t see her coming and didn’t realise she’d broken into my apartment.” “Who was she?” I enquired impatiently. “The woman from that night.” he replied solemnly, “The grieving mother on the sidewalk. Her son was dead and her husband in a coma, and the grief had driven her insane. She must have seen me that night and put two and two together. I don’t know how she found me. Perhaps she had her own powers of intuition or deduction. Well, in any case, she got the drop on me.” “What did she want?” I asked. Quinn snorted before answering aggressively. “What the hell do you think? She wanted fucking revenge!” “But why you?” I demanded, “You weren’t…” “I wasn’t responsible.” Quinn interjected, “I didn’t kill her son. Sure, that’s true. But I could have saved the kid. I could’ve chosen differently and prevented the shooting.” “It was an impossible choice.” I replied with genuine sympathy. “Perhaps. But the grieving mother didn’t see things that way. Her son’s killer was in prison, awaiting the lethal injection. But this wasn’t enough. She needed someone to blame, a target to lash out at. In her mind I played God that night, having chosen to save another child over hers. I could argue about the moral dilemma, but ultimately she was right…I had no acceptable defence when I came home drunk and found her in my front room, pointing a gun at my chest.” “What happened next?” I asked. Clearly this was difficult for Quinn and I really should have shown some patience, but I needed to drag the truth out of him, one way or another. “We had a short and tense conversation, but I don’t remember the exact details.” Quinn replied, “I asked her how she found me…Begged her for forgiveness. But I knew it was no good. I could see into her heart, and all she had left was rage and an overwhelming desire for revenge. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t her son’s killer. I had made a decision which had resulted in her child’s death…and for that crime, I had to die.” “But she didn’t go through with it though.” I interrupted, “You survived, evidently…” “Only by blind luck.” Quinn said with an ironic grin. “She aimed the pistol in my face and pulled the trigger…But all I heard was an empty click. Her gun jammed you see. Pure chance, that’s what saved my life. But the mother wasn’t going to let me go. She charged towards me and tried to smash the butt of her gun into my face. I reacted on instinct and dodged the attack. There was a struggle. She was crazed and wild, but I had the advantage in physical strength. I got her pinned to the ground, but still she wouldn’t give up. And I knew what was in her mind. The grieving mother would keep coming after me if I let her go. Nothing would alleviate her rage. I made another fateful decision in that moment, as I put my hands around her throat and squeezed hard…and I didn’t stop squeezing until the light went out from her eyes…” My jaw dropped as I considered the horrifying conclusion to Quinn’s story. I couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the vigilante as I saw the impact this confession had upon him, his body now trembling and tears rolling down his cheeks. Before our meeting that night, I thought of Quinn as a ruthless killer without remorse, but now I saw the heavy toll this life had taken, leaving him as a mere shadow of his former self. “You had no choice.” I muttered sympathetically. I didn’t really mean those words, but I felt compelled to say…something. But my attempt to reassure the devastated Quinn was unsuccessful. “That’s what I keep telling myself.” muttered Quinn, “But the truth is, I can’t live with what I’ve done.” I opened my mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words. And in the end, Quinn brought our meeting to an abrupt conclusion. “Well Mr Carter. You got what you wanted…Your precious story. Now, get the hell out and leave me be.” I sensed Quinn’s hostility and believed it would be in my best interests to exit the vehicle. But I feared for the man’s welfare and felt I needed to at least try to reach him. “Listen Quinn. You’re not a bad person. You’ve done some terrible things, but its not too late to make amends. Turn yourself in, I’m begging you.” Quinn sneered, leaning forward so I could see his face clearly under the dim, artificial light. His teary eyes were filled with sorrow and regret but also anger. Next, he reached into his jacket and slowly withdrew a silver revolver, making me recoil in fear. “I won’t tell you again, Carter.” he snarled whilst brandishing the gun, “Get the fuck out, unless you want to become my final victim.” I didn’t need to be told again, raising my hands defensively before I slid the door open and leapt out of the van and onto the asphalt. One didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what Quinn had planned and so I sprinted across the dead ground whilst shouting for help. “Mandrake! Come quickly!” The vigilante leader charged out of the warehouse, pulling a pistol from his shoulder holster as he came. But a moment later, we heard the muffled sound of a gunshot from inside the van. My stomach dropped as I slowly turned around to face the vehicle. Meanwhile, Mandrake shoved past me and opened the van’s side door. I guess there was a small chance that Quinn had survived, but all hope was lost when we witnessed the grisly scene within. Because there was Quinn’s lifeless body sprawled in the rear, his brains blown out and the smoking revolver still clutched in his right hand. “Jesus.” I swore in shock. I turned away from the body, looking back to Mandrake and seeing a raw grief in his bloodshot eyes. “Another man down.” he muttered grimly. “I’m sorry Mandrake.” I replied, “He deserved better.” He scoffed in disgust and turned towards me with an angry look on his face. The vigilante opened his mouth but didn’t get a chance to speak, as suddenly we were both startled by the sound of sirens. “Shit.” Mandrake swore, as he turned to see the flashing blue lights in the distance. “Time to go, Carter. I’ve given you another scoop to count towards your Pulitzer. But we’re not done yet my friend…I have one more person for you to meet. One last story to complete the saga.” He shot me a wicked smile and wink before turning on his heels and fleeing from the scene. I paused for a brief moment, casting one final look at Quinn’s body before I ran in the opposite direction. The Mentalist’s story received wide acclaim and international attention upon its publication. My editor was ecstatic and there was talk of a lucrative book deal to come. But, despite the success of the story, I’ll confess that my heart is no longer in this investigation. Since that fateful night I’ve been thinking about Quinn and what he said to me – about how I was only pursuing this story to further my own career. Was he right? What am I trying to achieve here? I don’t know anymore, but I see Quinn’s bloody corpse every time I close my eyes. My instincts tell me to walk away from the SVA investigation, but that’s not going to happen. I’ve come this far and feel compelled to move forward. When Mandrake calls, I will go to meet him one last time. I’m going to finish this story, even if it kills me. 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