Supernatural Vigilante Association – The Time Traveller
Read Part One here Read Part Two here I stood on the roof of the derelict tower block, the cold night sky above me as I waited impatiently for my source to arrive. Glancing upwards, I failed to see a single star due to light pollution, and I found this depressing…suffocating even. The crescent moon was visible however, if barely. It’s dim light gave me some comfort – a temporary respite from the chaos occurring below me. Reluctantly, I gazed downwards at the burning city – listening to the terrible cacophony of frantic shouts, trampling feet, beeping horns, distant sirens, and sporadic gunfire. All this was interspersed with the far-off din of rotor blades, as police helicopters hovered over the city like hungry insects – their spotlights focussing on trouble spots dotted across the boroughs. I shook my head in disgust as the smoke from the burning buildings and vehicles hit my nostrils. This city – my home town – had once again been engulfed by anarchy and violence, as rioting had broken out across the metropolis…a fiery chaos which the city’s police were seemingly unable to contain. I felt sick to my stomach whilst observing these violent scenes from my high viewing point. This rioting was undoubtedly worse than the violence which broke out several months back. The city was burning and it was uncertain whether the community would ever recover. But this wasn’t what bothered me the most. What really ate away at me was the guilt I felt, because I realised I was at least partly responsible for this mess. The stories I’d published – the tales of the SVA and its secretive operatives…My work had stirred something in people, a simmering resentment and anger which had been lingering just below the surface, waiting to explode. Why had I chased this story? What had I hoped to achieve? Was it anything more than naked personal ambition? I’d been asking myself these questions since my last interview with Quinn, which had ended in tragedy. But it wasn’t about me anymore. I had never been a supporter of the Supernatural Vigilante Association. In fact, I’d always condemned their actions and entire philosophy. But my journalism unfortunately had the opposite effect to what I intended. Instead of exposing the brutal organisation for what they were, I’d breathed fresh life into a dying beast. The mobs rampaging through the streets had their chants, shouting furiously and passionately as they attacked police cars and burnt down city hall, all whilst crying – ‘Free Tabitha!’, ‘Quinn Lives!’, ‘Mandrake for President!’, and ‘Victory to the SVA!’. I wanted to portray these vigilantes as flawed human beings who’d taken the wrong path, not to garner sympathy for them. But that’s what had happened. And of course, Mandrake was more than willing to take advantage of this surge in support, stoking the fires with his own unique brand of ultra violence. To be fair, the vigilante leader was still on the run and his capabilities were limited. Mandrake no longer had an army of super humans under his command as most of his former soldiers were either dead or in prison. Nevertheless, he wasn’t entirely without resources.I’d closely followed the news reports over the last few days and had noted attacks which matched Mandrake’s unique fingerprint – a rapist castrated, a corrupt cop assassinated, a mob bar bombed…Even amongst all this chaos, Mandrake could still make his mark.The whole ugly scenario sickened me, and I’d spent many sleepless nights questioning why I’d ever started this investigation. Just then I felt the first cold drops of rain falling on my head as I stood on the rooftop pondering my unfortunate situation. Looking up, I saw dark clouds forming in the night sky, cursing as I tightened my coat and shivered. What the hell was I doing here? Why had I even come tonight? Good questions, although unfortunately I didn’t have good answers.It wasn’t about the story anymore. Not really. Sure, I was curious to meet the mysterious vigilante Mandrake had lined up for me. Still, I no longer craved fame, recognition, or a Pulitzer. What I really wanted was for this nightmare to end. My exhausted brain was hardly thinking logically by this point, but I believed this chaos would only end when Mandrake was brought down. The vigilante put himself at risk every time he came out of hiding to meet me, so perhaps this would be the time he got caught.I considered this whilst retreating towards the staircase, seeking shelter from the coming deluge. The weather was vile, but perhaps the rain would quell the fires. Why had Mandrake chosen this location for our meet? Sure, the views were fantastic, if you appreciated the sight of a city tearing itself apart. But a rooftop was indeed a strange choice. Mandrake had always previously picked venues with at least one clear escape route in case the cops or bounty hunters came knocking.But this derelict tower seemed like a trap with no obvious way out. I’d had to climb fifty flights of stairs just to get up here, leaving me exhausted, flustered and irritated. Then again, maybe Mandrake didn’t want to get out. He was living on borrowed time after all, and perhaps he’d chosen this lonely rooftop for his last stand, planning to go down in a blaze of glory while I was there as a witness – the ambitious journalist who would write up the graphic details of his heroic demise. The thought brought a cold chill down my spine. I wanted to see Mandrake’s reign of terror brought to an end but would prefer he was arrested and put on trial rather than turned into a martyr. And I certainly didn’t want to be caught in the crossfire if and when bullets started flying. In that moment I did seriously consider abandoning this foolhardy enterprise, but suddenly I heard heavy footsteps ascending the staircase and an all-too-familiar voice calling out to me.“Good evening Mr Carter. What a pleasure to see you again.” I turned to see a figure ascending the darkened staircase, illuminating the steps before him with the torch function on his phone. Standing tall, I waited until the newcomer’s face was lit up before I answered his call.“Mr Mandrake. I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t show up.” The vigilante chuckled dryly as he continued his slow ascent. He showed no signs of tiring despite having climbed so many flights of stairs. I looked over my companion with interest as he walked into the light, noting the changes in his appearance and demeanour since our last meeting. On that previous occasion, I was shocked at how far Mandrake had deteriorated. He’d looked dishevelled and exhausted – on edge and close to breaking point. Honestly, I feared Quinn’s suicide might finish him off. But the Mandrake now stood before me looked like a man renewed – his eyes bright with fiery passion and with a charismatic smile plastered across his face. I noticed how he no longer wore his usual tailored suit, instead being dressed all in black with a leather jacket and a polo neck up to his chin. Perhaps this was his war-time uniform.Mandrake’s grin widened as he walked up the final steps to meet me, holding out his hand in a show of friendship whilst doing so. “Now Mr Carter, I thought you knew me better than that. I wouldn’t miss our meeting for the world.” I took his hand to shake, even though it made me uncomfortable. I couldn’t help wondering how many lives those hands had taken. I felt relieved whenever I was able to pull away from his sweaty palm. “Interesting choice for a meeting place.” I said sarcastically, whilst looking the killer straight in his dark eyes. Mandrake didn’t blink as he spoke his answer. “The building is derelict and away from prying eyes. True, the roof is open to the elements, not to mention police helicopters. But I have a room ready for us, one floor down.” I nodded my head, hardly surprised at the last-minute change of venue. Mandrake liked to keep me on my toes – to remind me he was in control. But I had a trump card up my sleeve – information. You see, I’d been doing a lot of digging since the fateful night of the Quinn interview…and I’d learnt something very important – Mandrake’s true identity and his family history. I could reveal the vigilante’s secret at any time…and yet, I hesitated to do so, because I feared how he’d respond. “Please follow me.” Mandrake instructed. And so I did, walking after him and down the staircase. The ‘room’ Mandrake had organised for our meet wasn’t much to look at – a dark, damp and empty office space littered with overturned furniture and assorted junk spread across the stained carpet. From the wide windows we could still see the chaos on the streets below – the city-wide riots which showed little signs of abating. We sat facing each other across a desk illuminated by a battery-powered lantern placed upon it. “So, here we are again.” Mandrake said with a thin smile, “I do hope this meeting goes better than our last.” I noted a sadness in his eyes despite the grin on his lips, and I could relate. Mandrake and I had a shared grief now. We’d both been witness to Quinn’s tragic death, as the troubled vigilante blew his brains out mere seconds after delivering his final confession. It chilled me to think back to that fateful night as I recalled the horrific sight of the mentalist’s still-warm body sprawled in the back of his van. I didn’t comment however, instead glancing out the window at the ongoing rioting. Sadly, the rain had only been a brief shower, and so the fires still burnt fiercely, their black smoke rising into an even blacker sky. “I suppose this makes you happy.” I muttered bitterly whilst glaring back at Mandrake.The vigilante’s eyes narrowed and his smile disappeared as he delivered a thoughtful reply. “My feelings are mixed, Mr Carter. You think anarchy and senseless violence pleases me, but this simply isn’t the case. I have dedicated my life to fighting for justice, after all.” He chuckled softly before continuing. “Still, I can’t say its not satisfying to observe the cops and feds who’ve spent so long pursuing me. And now they’re under attack…stretched to breaking point as a result of their own brutality and incompetence. But I believe this is only the beginning. Their whole rotten and corrupt system is collapsing in front of our very eyes. This is a revolution, Mr Carter! The people are furious and hungry for change. And they know who is here to save them – it’s on their lips and in their chants – ‘SVA!’, ‘Mandrake!’. They know that I am the one to lead them to the promised land! To a bright future where justice is a reality, and not just an empty word.” Mandrake’s voice had risen to a near crescendo by this point, and I genuinely feared for his sanity. The vigilante was clearly suffering from delusions of grandeur, and possibly even a Messiah complex. Did he truly believe these riots were all for him? That he could overthrow the government and take control? This was total madness. As I looked into Mandrake’s crazed eyes, I felt a strong urge to reveal what I knew about his sordid past. This revelation would certainly burst his bubble. I didn’t know how he’d react, but nevertheless I did seriously consider speaking out. But the timing wasn’t right. In that moment, I heard footsteps from the far side of the abandoned office, turning my head to see a new figure emerging from the shadows. “Ah, our special guest has arrived.” Mandrake exclaimed enthusiastically, “Come join us comrade.” The man who walked out from the shadows was striking and yet somehow unremarkable at the same time. A large man with a long and dishevelled dark beard, his sharp blue eyes shone in the dim light as they focussed upon me with a chilling intensity. He walked slowly towards the table whilst holding out his huge hand to shake. “Mr Carter, I am pleased to introduce one of our finest SVA volunteers – Mr Ralph Fentz.” said Mandrake. With some apprehension, I stood and shook with Mr Fentz, my own hand being nearly crushed in the process. Fentz towered over me, his intense eyes looking me up and down as he sized me up. This tense moment lasted for longer than I would have liked, until eventually Fentz grabbed an overturned chair and joined us at the desk. It took me another few seconds before I felt brave enough to ask a question.“Forgive me Mr Fentz,” I said cautiously, “I have studied the history of the Supernatural Vigilante Association since its foundation. But I’m not familiar with your name.” I didn’t know how Fentz would react to the question but was surprised when he bellowed out in laughter. I was baffled, and it was left up to Mandrake to offer an explanation of sorts. “You won’t have heard of Fentz or his operations, Mr Carter. He is our most prized asset and we’ve kept him a closely guarded secret.” I raised an eyebrow, surprised but none the wiser following Mandrake’s explanation.“I’m afraid I don’t follow.” was my puzzled reply. Mandrake smiled knowingly before answering. “Well, let me put it this way. Have you ever heard of the Downtown Mall Massacre?” I pondered for a moment but drew a blank. “No sir. I know of the mall of course, but I don’t recall a massacre or indeed any serious crimes linked to that venue.” Mandrake nodded his head smugly and then began to list off facts, as if he were reading from a newspaper or Wikipedia article. “The Downtown Mall Massacre took place on the 4th July 2022 while the venue was packed with holiday shoppers. A single gunman with a history of mental health issues entered the premises shortly after 9am, armed with a semi-automatic rifle and two handguns.In the space of a mere 17 minutes, the gunman shot 36 members of the public, killing 21 of them. He was then cornered by responding officers and committed suicide by shooting himself through the head. The massacre was the worst mass shooting in our city’s history, and many families were forever broken by the scale of their losses.” The mood across the desk was sombre, but I broke the mood by scoffing in contempt.“Come on Mandrake. No such event ever took place. You know this!” I looked to Mandrake and then to Fentz, only to be met with cold stares. “You don’t know about the shooting because Mr Fentz went to extraordinary lengths to prevent the massacre from happening.” Mandrake answered through clenched teeth, “Twenty-one people are alive today because of him – living their lives and spending time with their loved ones. They’ll never know what was done to save them…Well, not until now. Not until you tell the story, Mr Carter.” I frowned, slightly irritated by the cryptic response.“I still don’t understand.” I said. Mandrake smiled again before breaking eye contact and sitting up from his chair.“Well, I think it’s better if Fentz explains it to you himself. I need to check on our security arrangements, so I’ll leave you gentleman to it.” With that, Mandrake walked swiftly across the office floor and disappeared into the shadows. And I was left alone with Fentz, struggling to hold his hard gaze as I waited for the vigilante to speak. Fentz’s voice was gruff and deep, as he asked – “So, what do you want to know?”I was somewhat taken aback by his directness and the mysterious way this meeting had transpired. “Well Mr Fentz.” I eventually answered, “I like to start at the beginning with my interviewees. I’m interested in where you come form, when you first identified your special abilities, and how you came to join the SVA.” The vigilante nodded his head and stroked his beard, remaining silent for a moment as if deep in thought. I got the impression that Fentz was a man of few words, and so I’d need to struggle to get the story out of him. “Well sir, I can’t say my childhood was anything special. I wasn’t a victim of some horrific crime. My family was normal – loving parents and a comfortable upbringing. I only realised I was different when my grandfather passed away. I was ten. Old enough to understand death but not mature enough to fully process the grief. But that’s neither here nor there. What’s important is the episode which occurred at my grand-daddy’s funeral.” “Oh, yes?” I said, my curiosity now piqued. Fentz was a mystery to me, and I had no idea where this story was going.“Yeah, I was raised in a Catholic family.” Fentz continued, “And that meant an open casket at the wake. I remember seeing the old timer inside the lined coffin – his eyes closed, face bloated, and skin looking like wax. The other kids my age were freaked out by the sight of his body, but I was fascinated by it. Call it a morbid curiosity if you will, but I felt the urge to reach out and touch his cheek. I didn’t know what to expect. I guess I just wanted to make a connection with my grandfather one last time. But what happened next was beyond my wildest dreams.” I saw a glint in Fentz’s eye and a faint smile beneath his black beard. Clearly, this was a treasured memory for the man. “It was terrifying at first, because I didn’t understand what had happened to me. You see, one minute I was standing in the back room of the church with a line of mourners behind me, and the next I was transported through time and space to a location and year that was quite impossible…” My jaw dropped and heart rate quickened as I looked Fentz directly in the eye, trying to find any signs of deceit. I’d heard and reported on some extraordinary SVA stories before – tales of the supernatural and paranormal. But what Fentz was saying was out of this world. “So, wait – You’re saying that you were teleported to another place?” I asked in amazement. “Yeah.” Fentz replied calmly, “But I wasn’t just taken to a new location. It was also a different time. That is to say, I travelled backwards and attended an event which occurred decades before I was even born – my grandfather’s tenth birthday.” “My God! Are you serious?” I exclaimed in disbelief, “How…how did you know? I mean, how could you tell?” “Well, in truth I only really figured it out after I got back. It all happened so fast, and I was only there for five minutes. It seemed like longer, but five minutes is all I ever get.I recognised details I’d seen in old black and white photographs, and when I saw my grandfather he was the spitting image of me. But the oddest thing is, I was able to interact with my environment. I could touch the furniture, smell the candles…even taste the cake.And the people could see me too. I was nervous and so stayed at the back of the room, but a few of the kids gave me funny looks while they played. I guess they wondered who this kid in the black suit was and why he’d gate-crashed the party. But it was a birthday party and there were lots of kids around, not to mention the parents who had their hands full. So, I was able to stay in the background and just observe. Hell, I didn’t even approach my grandfather in his child form. Didn’t know what would happen if I did.” “I can’t believe it.” I said whilst shaking my head, “How is this even possible?” “Beats me.” Fentz answered with a shrug of his shoulders, “I didn’t understand it at the time. Still don’t really. But this is the gift I was born with – the ability to connect with the dead and travel in time to a key moment in the deceased’s past, all by merely touching their cold skin… But my forays into history are only temporary. Five minutes…that’s the limit. I left my grandfather’s birthday party as abruptly as I arrived, fading away from the past and being thrust back into the present. Because suddenly I found myself back at the wake with a queue of impatient mourners behind me.” My mind was racing as I tried to make sense of this extraordinary tale. The implications of what Fentz was saying were… disturbing. But I had to learn more. “How did you use this unique ability?” I asked cautiously. “Well, it was sometime before I was able to repeat the process.” Fentz said with a crude smile, “The average kid doesn’t encounter dead bodies too often, and there were no other funerals for the next few years. But the thrill I felt that day…it didn’t leave me. I couldn’t just leave the experience as a one-off. That’s why I took a job as a mortician’s assistant when I turned eighteen.” I raised my eyebrows, unable to contain my shock. “I know what you’re thinking.” Fentz replied with a nod, “It’s pretty screwed up, right? But at first my intentions were innocent enough. I wanted to test and hone my powers of course, but there was something else too. When I touched the dead I connected with them. I could see glimpses of their past – see what kind of person they were in life. Before long I realised I could visit specific points in a person’s life – key moments which shaped them. And I could change things too. I was able to interact with the environment after all. It was small things at first – minor changes and adjustments to make someone’s life better. The trouble is, not all of the dead I encountered were good people. Some had done terrible things during their lives, and a few had escaped the mortal coil without punishment.” I felt my stomach drop as suddenly it all came together in my head. The words almost stuck in my throat, but I had to ask the question. “What can you tell me about the Downtown Mall Massacre?” I enquired. Fentz sighed deeply, looking down at his boots before he finally answered. “The perpetrator in my timeline was a 31-year-old man called Daniel Stone. You won’t have heard of him, for reasons that will become obvious. What can I say about Mr Stone? He was a monster obviously, but there were no obvious signs that he was capable of murder. Stone had a history of mental illness, but no documented record of violence. The man was a drifter and underachiever, unable to hold down a job or maintain a long-term relationship. Still, being a social outcast doesn’t usually drive a man to murder. And then there’s the nature vs nurture argument. I found nothing in Daniel’s family history which could explain what he did. By all accounts, he had a stable upbringing and two loving parents. What’s more, his younger sister Tara qualified as a doctor, working as a paediatrician in St Mary’s Children’s Hospital. In Daniel’s case, the apple had fallen very far from the tree…”Fentz paused his account, continuing to look down at his shoes and refusing to meet my eye. I knew the behaviour of a guilty man when I saw it, and realised Fentz was building up to telling me something awful. It seemed he was trying to justify whatever he’d done. But I needed to press him for more. “What happened to him, Fentz?” I asked carefully, “What did you do to Daniel Stone?” The vigilante sighed again, louder this time. There followed another lengthy pause before he next spoke, his voice now starting to crack under the emotional strain. “I was a sworn-in member of the SVA by the time of the massacre. Mandrake had approached me about six months before and I’d agreed to join his organisation. I was eager to use my powers to prevent evil from occurring, but Mandrake had bigger plans for me.He told me I was special – that my powers were beyond anything he’d seen before. The boss wanted to keep me in reserve and use my powers for something big. Well, the opportunity came after the mall shooting. Stone was dead by his own hand, having taken the lives of twenty-one innocent souls during his mindless killing spree.Many of the victims came to my morgue, but Mandrake pulled some strings and got Stone onto my slab.” It was all coming together in my head, and I didn’t like the picture I was seeing. “So, Mandrake’s sole contribution was getting you access to the body?” I asked. “Not quite.” he answered defensively, “He gave the orders, and I followed them. And of course, there was the pep talk…” “Pep talk?” I exclaimed, not knowing whether to feel amazed or disgusted. Fentz looked me straight in the eye in that moment, a renewed intensity entering his gruff voice as he tried to turn the tables. “Let me ask you something Mr Carter. If you could go back in time and kill a baby Hitler or Stalin, would you do it? Could you take a child’s life if you knew he’d grow up to be a monster? Could you kill one to potentially save millions?” I saw where Fentz was going with this. He was posing an old moral dilemma, one which had previously been hypothetical…but Fentz’s unique powers were a game changer. Nevertheless, it was a crude analogy and I wouldn’t let this stand.“Daniel Stone was no Hitler.” I said firmly. “No, he wasn’t.” Fentz acknowledged, “But the same principle applies. By taking one life, I could save twenty-one people. That’s the argument Mandrake sold to me.” “But that’s still murder!” I exclaimed in anger, “There were other ways you could have stopped him.” “Like what?” Fentz shot back, his huge body now trembling with pent-up emotion, “Don’t you think I considered every other possibility before resorting to this? I only have five minutes, remember? And besides, its nature over nurture. Nothing could have prevented Stone from becoming a mass killer, except his own death…” I was far than convinced but felt my outburst had been unprofessional, and I certainly didn’t wish to provoke Fentz’s anger. “Apologies.” I said in a conciliatory voice, “Please tell me what happened.” “Sure.” Fentz replied in a sombre tone, “I’ve gone this far. And I guess I’m going to hell anyway…” I could tell the account was taking its toll on Fentz, and I did fear a similar outcome to the Quinn fiasco. Really, I should’ve stopped the interview right there and then. But to my eternal shame, I pressed on. “The operation began like all my previous journeys. Sure, I was as nervous as hell, but I touched Stone’s cheek and was taken back to 1991. I found myself standing in Daniel Stone’s bedroom, with Disney character motifs on the walls and a stars and moon mobile hanging over his crib… And there was baby Daniel – a toddler with innocent eyes and soft skin, giggling innocently as he looked up at me and smiled. I guess he didn’t recognise me as a threat.” “Jesus.” I swore in disbelief. “I know.” Fentz replied, the guilt now evident in his voice as tears formed in his deep blue eyes. “I’ll admit that I almost backed out at the last minute. Seeing that infant before me…The thought of harming him went against every instinct in my body. But then I remembered Mandrake’s words and thought of those twenty-one people whose lives would be brought to a violent end – if I didn’t act.” Fentz sighed deeply once again, forcing himself to speak the next words. “I lifted a pillow from the sideboard and held it over the baby’s head. Then I pushed down, ignoring the child’s muffled cries and struggles…and I didn’t release the pressure until he stopped moving.” I saw Fentz’s large body trembling and his foot tapping on the office floor. I’d known where this story was going but hearing Fentz confess to the heinous crime was truly sickening. Still, I couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for the vigilante, knowing the heavy burden he carried on his shoulders. “So, that was that.” I said solemnly, “Daniel Stone died in infancy and the Downtown Mall Massacre never took place.” Fentz snorted before replying in a bitter tone. “I wish it was that simple. You see, the deed was done before my five minutes in 1991 were up. So, I was forced to stand over the baby’s corpse until the timeline corrected itself and I was pulled back into the present. That would have been tolerable I guess, but I got the shock of my life when I saw the door to the bedroom slowly opening.” I gasped before spluttering out my next question. “Who was it?” “The boy’s mother.” he answered in shame, “I thought I’d been quiet, but I guess she heard something. Or maybe it was just the maternal instinct. You know, its strange…I can hardly remember any details about her appearance – the clothes she wore, how she kept her hair. All I can recall is the horror in the mother’s eyes when she saw her dead boy, and the piercing scream she emitted as she ran from the doorway in a blind panic. Instinctively I sprinted after her and down the hallway. I didn’t have a plan. It wasn’t my intention to hurt her…that wasn’t the mission. I just wanted to stop her screaming…” He shook his head before clenching and unclenching his fist. “It all happened so fast. We struggled at the top of the staircase, and suddenly she was falling. I reached out and tried to grab the woman, but it was already too late. She tumbled down the stairs like a bag of spuds, hitting the ground hard…her neck snapping like a twig. I stared down at her dead eyes, frozen in horror at what I’d just done. And I was only shaken from my shock-induced trance by a furious roar from further down the corridor.I turned my head and saw the boy’s father dressed in blue jeans and a white vest. The man was holding a baseball bat and cried out in bloody fury as he charged towards me whilst swinging his bat. I didn’t resist or run, instead merely standing still as the vengeful father came at me. Frankly, I didn’t care if he beat me to death given what I’d just done. But wouldn’t you know it? In that very moment my journey into the past abruptly ended, and I disappeared from that place before being thrust back into the now altered present.” My mind was racing and I found myself literally speechless in the moments which followed. The butterfly effect caused by Fentz’s time travelling vigilantism was substantial, but it was even worse than I thought. “Did you look into the Stone family after you got back?” I asked sheepishly, part of me not wanting to hear the answer. “I did.” Fentz replied reluctantly, “Although I wish I hadn’t frankly. Still, I had to face up to what I’d done. Mr Stone took the blame for my crimes, as he was accused of murdering his wife and infant son. At the trial he ranted and raved about a man who invaded his family home, committed the murders, and then disappeared into thin air. He was telling the truth of course, but the judge thought Mr Stone was crazy and so committed him to a psychiatric hospital…” He sighed deeply before continuing, “The poor bastard died in there. Hung himself. That was another death on my conscience, but its not what bothers me the most.” “No?” I said in surprise. “Afraid not.” Fentz confirmed with a solemn nod of his head, “You see, Mrs Stone was three months pregnant when she died. She was carrying Daniel’s younger sister, Tara. You’ll find no record of her, because in this timeline Tara was never born…thanks to me. I robbed that girl of a chance at life. And it gets worse. Tara was a doctor in the original unaltered timeline. I’m the only one who remembers this. I often think of how many lives she would have saved during her medical career. Would her good work have offset the evil committed by her brother? Who can say? All I know is this – I played God and destroyed that family, and I had no right doing so.” I looked to Fentz in near astonishment. Honestly, I’d expected the vigilante to try to justify his heinous actions. And yet, Fentz had admitted he was wrong…that the ends didn’t justify the means in this case. But the time-traveller didn’t hold all the responsibility, as his next statement confirmed. “Damn Mandrake.” Fentz exclaimed angrily, his blue eyes lighting up with a fiery intensity. “Damn that son-of-a-bitch to hell! I wish I never met him.” I was still trying to think of an appropriate response to the vigilante’s strong words when we were suddenly interrupted by an almighty din and bright light emanating from the far side of the office window. Both Fentz and I jumped up from our chairs, temporarily blinded by the artificial light and near deafened by the heavy noise of spinning rotor blades. Looking out, I realised a police helicopter was hovering in the night’s sky directly opposite the derelict building we occupied, using its high-powered searchlight to illuminate our floor. The authorities had tracked us down, and now was the time for reckoning. “This is the police!” came the call from the chopper’s loudspeakers, “Get down on your knees and put your hands behind your heads!” I was inclined to do as instructed. I hadn’t committed any crimes after all, and the newspaper’s lawyers could secure my release from custody within a matter of hours. Fentz seemed unsure however. He faced the grim prospect of arrest and facing the consequences of his actions. I looked to my vigilante companion as the searchlight illuminated us both. Honestly, I believe he was on the verge of surrender. But then Mandrake burst back into the space, intervening in a typically violent manner. I turned my head in time to see the fanatical vigilante charging across the office floor, pulling a machine pistol from underneath his jacket as he came. “Die you motherfuckers!” he screamed, a second before opening fire towards the chopper.The din of gunfire added to the violent cacophony of sound, and the bullets easily shattered the glass window, striking the hovering aircraft and taking out its searchlight. The chopper wasn’t armed and the pilot lost his nerve, retreating from the shattered window and ascending into the dark skies above. Mandrake cried out in triumph as the cold night’s air hit us and he continued firing at the chopper until his magazine was empty. With the immediate threat averted, Mandrake turned towards us before and bellowed out his orders. “We need to leave. Now.” Next, Mandrake holstered his weapon and pulled out his cell phone, using the torch function to light the way as he proceeded across the office floor. I looked to Fentz and saw the despair in his eyes, like he was caught in Mandrake’s spell and couldn’t escape it. He followed his leader and I reluctantly walked after them both, still unwilling to turn my back on this story. We exited the office and entered the internal stairwell leading downwards, only to find our path blocked. We heard the loud clumping of heavy boots on stairs and saw torches pointing upwards, lights affixed to assault rifles and carried by black-clad SWAT team members.The cops were coming up the stairs whilst we wanted to head down. It seemed our only escape route was blocked and there was no doubt who the cops were after. “Mandrake!” shouted the SWAT leader as he aimed his rifle upwards and caught the vigilante in his torchlight, “You’re finished asshole! Give up or I’ll blow your fucking head off!”I didn’t see how the illusive Mandrake would escape this ambush, but of course he had another ace up his sleeve. The vigilante didn’t even blink as he entered a short code into his cell phone. And a second later, all hell broke loose. There was a blinding light and deafening roar below us, clearly followed by a huge blast of hot air which threw me off my feet. I fell heavily to the ground, my head spinning and ears ringing. Fentz was the one who helped me up, offering his huge right hand and dragging me up to my feet. I was still dazed but forced myself to look down at the now burning staircase which was covered in blood and guts. Whatever booby trap Mandrake planted had done the job, blowing the SWAT team to pieces and littering the staircase with their broken bodies.I felt sick as I observed the scene of bloody carnage below. Most of the cops were dead, but a few clung to life despite their missing limbs, crying out in agony as they slowly bled out.My jaw dropped as I turned to Mandrake in disgust, saying – “What the hell have you done?”The vigilante leader merely shrugged his shoulders dismissively, showing no remorse or even basic humanity. “Those men came here to kill me. I am entitled to act in self-defence. Every war has its casualties.” I could no longer contain my disgust at Mandrake as I remonstrated with him for his callous and murderous actions. “This is all just a game to you, isn’t it?” I exclaimed angrily, speaking up to be heard over the groans of the dying officers. Mandrake made a point of loading a fresh magazine into his gun as he answered cooly.“On the contrary Mr Carter, I take this very seriously. Justice is my life’s mission and I’m prepared to die for the cause.” I snorted in contempt, as the vigilante’s fanatical words only increased my anger, and I spoke before I had a chance to think of the consequences. “Of course Mandrake. You’re a tough guy, right? A soldier who never backs away from the fight. But you weren’t always this way – isn’t that true? You see Mandrake, I’ve discovered your true identity. Your real name is Seth Peterson and you grew up on the city’s south side. Your father was a violent drunk who beat and molested his wife and children. One night he was hurting your little sister while you cowered under the covers. But your mother wasn’t taking it anymore, was she? That night she blew your daddy’s head off with a twelve gauge. Your mommy went to prison and your and you sister were sent into foster case. You never stood up to your abusive father, did you Mandrake? But you’ve made up for it since. This burning rage inside of you…the uncontrollable lust for bloody vengeance. That’s the spark which lit the fire, and now the entire city is burning…thanks to you!” My rant had been ill-advised. I’d discovered the truth about ‘Mandrake’ just three days before and was in two minds whether to confront him with this information. But now I’d blurted it out, and there was no way of telling how the vigilante leader would react. I looked on fearfully as Mandrake’s expression turned from shock to fury, his face going red with rage. I saw his grip tightening on the handle of his gun and genuinely feared Mandrake would shoot me down in cold blood. Thankfully, he regained some level of calm and composure, a crude smile returning to his weathered face as he spoke. “Well done, Mr Carter.” he said sarcastically, “I must commend your journalistic skills. You are indeed a hack of the first order. And so, my big secret has been revealed! But you see Carter, it doesn’t fucking matter. Seth Peterson died a long time ago. But Mandrake still lives, and I’ll keep fighting until my dying breath!” “Great speech.” I replied mockingly, “But I’m not going to be your mouthpiece any longer. I’m done with this story, and I’m going home.” I’d finally stood up to the feared Mandrake and felt some degree of satisfaction in that moment, But unfortunately it did not last. The vigilante boss didn’t react well to my defiance, as he pointed his machine pistol towards me and spoke through clenched teeth.“I’m not done with you yet Carter. We still have work to do, and I can’t let you go.” He motioned the gun towards the far end of the office floor. “There’s a service elevator over there. Still functional. We’re all going to leave here together.” I was horrified, realising that I’d gone from interviewer to hostage in mere seconds. I looked to Fentz in that moment. He’d remained silent throughout my argument with Mandrake, and the look in his eyes told me he wasn’t happy. Nevertheless, the time-travelling vigilante offered me no support as he walked towards the waiting lift without comment. And I was forced to follow him, with the gun-wielding Mandrake pushing me forwards with the barrel of his pistol poking into my back. We got into the creaky elevator and descended. The tension inside of that tight space was unbearable, as a cold sweat poured down my brow. Mandrake kept a close watch on me throughout our short descent, a killer’s glint in his dark eyes. Was he going to kill me? It seemed like a distinct possibility. My mind raced as the survival instinct kicked in, and I considered attempting a desperate escape. But the dynamics of our situation changed rapidly once our elevator reached the ground floor and the doors pinged open. Looking out, we saw a figure waiting for us outside of the lift door, armed and pointing his gun towards us. It took me a second to recognise the grizzled face of the trench-coat wearing gunman. It was Hennessey – the PD turned bounty hunter who’d been on Mandrake’s trail from the very beginning. And finally he’d found him. It seemed like the world froze for a tension-filled moment, but then everything happened at once, as the game of cat-and-mouse reached its bloody conclusion. BANG. Hennessey fired first, with a single bullet striking Mandrake in the chest. The vigilante fell backwards, mortally wounded. But with his last ounce of strength, he pulled the trigger on his gun, unleashing a burst of automatic gunfire which almost cut the bounty hunter in half. Hennessey was killed instantly, while Mandrake slumped against the elevator wall, blood pouring from his wound as he looked up at me and spluttered out his final words. “Write my story Carter. Preserve my legacy.” he whispered faintly. And then the notorious vigilante leader shut his eyes and stopped breathing. I was in a state of shock after watching the violence play out. Part of me was glad Mandrake was dead, but I couldn’t help but think he’d avoided justice. “He got what he wanted,” I said solemnly, “Died a martyr to his cause.” I’d almost forgotten that Fentz was present, as he remained silent for some time. But suddenly I heard him tutting behind me, as he said – “No sir, that won’t do.” I turned to Fentz in surprise, wondering what he meant. But then I remembered his hidden power. Fentz stepped over Mandrake’s corpse, instead walking over to Hennessey’s body before touching him gently on his forehead. There followed a flash of light which temporarily blinded me. And when my sight was restored, the scene before me had changed dramatically. I don’t know what action Fentz took in the past before he was thrust back to our present. But Hennessey’s body was no longer present, and Mandrake was no longer dead. The resurrected vigilante leader struggled upon shaking legs, seemingly confused and disorientated as he stumbled out of the elevator, muttering to himself as he went. “No. This can’t be. This isn’t right.” he said. Suddenly there were loud footsteps on the floor as new figures emerged from the shadows.“Freeze asshole! Don’t you move!” It was a cop, running straight towards the baffled Mandrake. The vigilante’s gun was still lying on the elevator floor and for once he was taken off guard. The officer opened fire, but with a taser rather than a gun. Mandrake was hit in the chest, his body convulsing as the volts surged through him. A second later and another cop appeared, tackling Mandrake down to the ground and securing him in handcuffs. More officers charged towards us, shouting with guns drawn. Both Fentz and I surrendered without a fight, and finally the ordeal was over. And that’s my story, in its entirety. I was released without charge, but my companions were caught bang to rights. The charge list against Mandrake is the length of a novel and he’ll surely spend the rest of his life in a maximum-security prison. As for Fentz – he made a full confession and has been charged with two counts of murder, both committed before the killer was officially born. Another legal first. I’ll admit that I was in two minds over whether to publish this story. I no longer care about acclaim, praise, or awards, and I do fear that I’m still doing Mandrake’s bidding by spreading his infamy. But in the end, I decided this is a story which must be told, if only to allow this war-torn city to heal. I won’t make any moral judgement here. Such lofty ideals seem hollow now, given all the bloodshed and suffering I’ve witnessed. But I will finish this article with a genuine plea for peace, and a hope that – one day – true justice will be served. Credit: Woundlicker Facebook Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.