Spoiler! :
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Acre City’s littlest crime fighter was standing alone in the southernmost district of the Swats. He was watching himself on the television that was mounted on the side of a building. William Griffin, age eleven, had just closed the case of the elusive serial killer known as “The Eviscerator.” On the screen young William was being interviewed by a female reporter next to a defeated looking police officer in a beige suit. William had light brown skin and short nappy hair. He was standing with one foot on his skateboard and wearing his trusty blue backpack filled with all the tools a kid detective needs to battle crime. Dangling on the silver chain around his neck was the honorary detective badge he received after solving the mystery of Nursing Home Strangler. And of course his trademark eye-patch was covering his left eye. It was a black square held in place by a pair of elastic bands. In the high definition screen one could easily see the many intricate scars radiating from beneath the boy’s eye-patch like a spider web embedded in his skin.
In the background a handcuffed man dressed as a clown was being led into the backseat of a police cruiser parked next to an ice cream truck. The truck had an identical albeit much more cheerful looking clown painted on the side. Young William was explaining to the pretty reporter how the killer was able to conceal the time of death by using the equipment in his ice cream truck to flash freeze the severed torsos of the missing school children.
The reporter asked the officer how he felt about having so many high-profile cases being solved by a child. The officer wiped the sweat from his pink forehead and explained that the ACPD was proud of the good deeds of its citizens; it was a speech he’d given many times. The image on the screen returned to the news-station headquarters where a male and female anchor made cheerful banter about the story. The female anchor remarked on the potential for greatness of young William Griffin.
“Yes,” said the male anchor, “maybe next he can solve the mystery of the incompetent police force. Ha-ha-ha…uh…are we still on the air?”
William turned away from the building and looked out over the stone terrace which offered a particularly stunning view of the valley of Palmdale. Palmdale, of course, is the borough with the highest concentration of skyscrapers in the city. The thousands of lights shimmered like stars against the smog-filled backdrop of the night sky. Acre’s littlest crime-fighter was undoubtedly wondering what other adventures the evening had in store. A blimp hovered above the tenement rooftops; the LED screen on its side had a cartoon image of a Black man wearing a metal mask below the animated words, “BEWARE THE DOOMSTER!!! Live at Kafka Stadium.” William was observing the blimp when he detected a disturbance in the vicinity. Somebody nearby was screaming.
The sound was coming from the alleyway between the tavern and the derelict electronics shop on Fifth Street. William jumped on his skateboard and made his way down the alley, the detective’s badge hidden beneath his shirt. He reached the corner where the alleyway divided into a T-intersection at the wall of a third building, the abandoned warehouse with the broken water tower on the roof. There he found the source of the scream, a little boy and girl, both Hispanic, both around eight years of age. They were probably fraternal twins according to William. The children were being harassed by two teenagers wearing black clothes; one was white, very thin with messy red hair. The other was Black, very round with short nappy hair.
Young William thought the dastardly duo looked like this standing next to each other: 10
The red haired assailant was prying the pink Princess Pony backpack from the little girl’s fingers, while the little boy was being pinned to the ground under the weight of the round boy’s enormous foot. William demanded to know what was going, his face hidden in shadows. The red haired assailant dropped the backpack. He was about to run when he realized that William was just a child.
“The fuck you want kid?” asked the red haired boy, “You tryin’ to get yer ass beat too?”
“Probably lost,” said the fat boy, “Why don’t you run back to Celina before something bad happens to ya?”
William pulled out his badge from beneath the collar of his shirt and took a step forward so that his face was no longer hidden. The first assailant laughed and said that Will looked like a pirate. The second assailant was considerably less jovial.
“Holy shit! He’s that kid, that fuckin’ detective kid!”
The red haired boy kindly asked his friend what the fuck he was talking about. His friend replied that he’d seen the boy on the news several times. “He’s the kid who caught Monstro and The Striker. He had The Gambino in a fuckin’ headlock; I saw it on the internet. How’d you do that, kid? It was the most badass shit I’ve ever seen.”
William balled up his right fist and cracked his knuckles with his left hand. “I’d be happy to do a demonstration on you two.”
The fat assailant took his foot off the little boy’s stomach and stepped back. He assured William that there’d be no need for such a demonstration.
The red haired assailant threw up his hands. “Yeah dude; this whole thing was his idea anyway.”
The other assailant began arguing with his partner, ostracizing him for ratting him out to Griffin. William interrupted their conversation, telling the two boys to leave. As they cautiously backed out of the alley William warned them that he’d do to them what he did to The Nighthawk if they bothered anyone else. The two hoodlums disappeared into the night and their victims thanked William for his assistance. William told them that they were very welcome and that they should stick to the sidewalks from now on. William saw the children safely to the bus stop and then returned to the alleyway. He had planned to climb the fire-escape of the old warehouse in order to find a good vantage point from which to seek out more criminals to thwart. As he approached the metal ladder he noticed the wooden door to the back of the warehouse was slightly ajar.
Here’s an artist’s rendering of young William’s thoughts upon noticing the door:?!
Young William stared at the door for a moment, scanning the surrounding area for any clues as to why it might be open. He could tell by the sign stapled to the door that the building had been condemned. Like many of the buildings in the Swats, demolition of the warehouse had been postponed due to the spending deficit in the city. Still it was unlawful for any person to be inside a condemned building without proper authorization. Griffin would have to investigate.
Part 2: post773570.html#p773570
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