Watchman: The Kidnapping
"And if we take a look at the normal distribution, we can see a number of things happening here . . ."
This board meeting had been going on for almost two hours. As I sat at the end of the office table, I attempted to listen to our company's statistician ramble on about the correlation between company public favor and the quality of products manufactured this year, but it wasn't working. With the recent events happening in the city, I admittedly had a difficult time trying to stay engaged in the presentation.
"What do you think, Mr. Cross? Any input?" asked Mr. Thompson, one of the executives at the table. I fought back the urge to grimace. "Well, ah, I think you're asking the wrong person about this," I stated. "Mr. Vernon here has managed most of the research and development here at CrossCorp, so it'd probably be more beneficial if you asked for his stance on the matter rather than my less-qualified opinion, wouldn't you agree?"
I gestured to the 34-year-old bespectacled man across from me. His smile and slight nod were both good indications that my misdirection had succeeded. Before anyone could poll Mr. Vernon, Mr. Thompson stood up, clearly annoyed. I had the slightest feeling he had tried to embarrass me earlier.
"Sir, that doesn't exactly answer my question. I--" He sighed. "I'm sorry, but we need to address the elephant in the room here." I raised an eyebrow. I need to get out of here.
"Perhaps this isn't the best time to--"
"Mr. Cross," Mr. Thompson interrupted. "For over the past few months, you've deliberately been wasting our time and resources on various endeavors that, frankly, have cost us a lot of money."
"I hardly consider charity donations a waste of time and resources, Mr. Thompson."
"I hardly consider giving a million dollars to a superhero a charity donation, Mr. Cross."
"You don't... understand what that woman has been through." My voice had lowered almost to a whisper.
"And you do? I realize that Miss Carrano has been through a lot, but you can't justify wasting a large amount of money just because you feel sorry for her."
"It's more than that."
Faye Carrano, otherwise known as Cosmic Glory, was recently unmasked after barely surviving a grueling battle with two unknown supervillains -- a battle that I had personally observed from the shadows during one of my patrols. I had a reason for not interfering with the skirmish, but I couldn't decide if it was the pressing need to remain anonymous or if it was the fear of my own mortality.
"Well," Mr. Thompson started, "Whatever it is, it's not making us any money."
"What about the tornado relief donations? We need to help these people somehow. Surely you understand that."
"We -are- helping them, Mr. Cross. Our scientists are currently researching new durable materials in order to use them to repair and reinforce buildings affected by the disaster. But first, we need funding, and we can't do that if you're recklessly spending company money left and right."
"That will take months! It's been weeks already, and I still feel like we haven't done enough to aid these people!"
"Listen, Mr. Cross. We understand that you have a charitable heart, but that doesn't give you an excuse to waste the company's money on, well, anything non-profitable. It just doesn't do us any good. Honestly, if your father knew what you were doing--"
"Right, well. I understand," I quickly interrupted. It was obvious from the group's awkward glances that my parents were a sensitive topic. "The company's money will be strictly regulated to business-related affairs. No more donations for the time being. Guess that will have to come out of my pocket instead."
The room grew silent and a satisfied Mr. Thompson sat back in his seat.
"Alright. Then it's settled."
"Breaking news! It seems that the tornado has been successfully neutralized by the hero known as Thundrax, but he is nowhere to be found."
"Did you see that? It just blew through that freakin' building like it was nothing! Jesus, I wonder how many people were in there..."
"My sister lived in that apartment, and now she's gone. I can't believe she's gone."
"Spare some change? Come on, man, the tornado destroyed my home. What the-- Yeah, sure, ignore me, buddy! Guess no one cares for the little guy anymore, huh?!"
"Hello? Yes, it's me. You see what happened downtown? Rather unfortunate, wouldn't you say? Anyway, you think we'll still be able to profit off of this?"
7:45 PM. Light shower. I decided to take a stroll downtown rather than call my assistant to drive me home. In all honesty, I just wanted to walk outside for a while, and I suppose the rainfall may have reflected my overall mood at the moment. A normal person would have tried to avoid the wet weather, but something about it felt soothing. Nevertheless, I will probably get a cold in the morning if I stay too long. Walking at a leisurely pace, I blended into the crowd around me; even for someone with a highly recognizable face like mine, it was relatively easy to hide amongst a group of people, especially if I didn't want to deal with nosy reporters.
As I continued further down the street, I couldn't ignore the loud sounds of construction in the distance. If anything, they were trying to repair the damage done to the city weeks ago by the F4 tornado. Craig Carson, also known as Thundrax, single-handedly stopped the threat, but not without cost. The news say he's either missing or dead. Honestly, I don't really have much an opinion about the man especially since I never really met him, so I can't really say I'm saddened that he probably perished during the disaster. I will say this, though: He did good work. While my abilities limit me more to the streets of the city, his allowed him to take on cosmic threats that I could not even begin to fathom, and for that he has my respect.
The rain began to fall harder, forcing me to match the crowd's hurried pace. Even then, my mind was still focused on the meeting. While Mr. Thompson seems to lack a friendly demeanor, his ambition and work ethic are both incredible assets to the company's future. I can tell his heart's in the right place; however, while the long-term goal of developing reinforced building materials is important, we can't ignore the people who were affected by the tornado.
I believe the decision to prevent me from spending company money was not his; it must have come from the board of directors. There's corruption within CrossCorp that few people are aware of, and I'm the only one capable of destroying it. In order to achieve that goal, I need to consult my father's journal at the cave which is, unfortunately, far from here. Now I started to regret not calling my assistant -- maybe I should hail a taxi instead.
Before attempting to ponder some more, I nonchalantly glanced behind me and pretended to look at a restaurant sign. In all reality, I was checking to see if I was still being followed. And I was. Blonde hair, dark blue jacket, about six foot two. Sunglasses at night? He kept a good distance of about thirty meters behind me, and he hid well. To be honest, I didn't realize he was following me until the man twenty meters in front of me kept glancing back every fifteen seconds after I had first passed the construction site earlier -- that's probably when he started tailing me. Black hair, gray jacket, maybe five foot seven. Also wearing sunglasses.
In a single deft maneuver, I moved past the crowd and slipped into a nearby alleyway. I waited for the man behind me to pass, wondering if he and his accomplice would notice my sudden disappearance. Assuming I had lost them, I stepped forward before hearing a sharp click. I froze in my tracks. Pistol. Great. Any sudden moves and I'm gone.
"Don't move, pretty boy."
The large impact against the back of my head rendered me unconscious.
"Sir, you've been made CEO of the company."
"What? Why? What happened to my father?"
"He and your mother were driving and-- The officer said he was intoxicated, sir."
"You're lying. He quit drinking years ago. What happened?"
"Sir, I'm sorry, but it's true."
The loud crash of thunder forced my eyes open, letting in the flood of bright light from the overhead light fixtures. As my vision started to become clearer, I glanced around in order to figure out where I was. I appeared to be in some sort of warehouse. My hands were zip-tied to the chair I was sitting in, and it seemed like the rain from outside had begun to pour. How long was I out? Three men appeared from the shadows: the two men from before, and a humorously shorter bald man. He must have been the one who knocked me out.
"Carlos," the bald guy said to the one in the gray jacket, "Get in touch with our client. Tell 'em we got him."
With a silent nod, Carlos returned to the dark area where he had emerged from, and the sound of a door slamming shut echoed throughout the place.
"Mr. Cross," spoke the short man, "How was your nap? Hopefully your hair's not all messed up." By the smell of his breath and the sound of his gravelly voice, I could tell that he'd been smoking earlier. Unsurprisingly, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it with the lighter in his hand. I remained silent as he stuck the thing in his big mouth.
"Right, then. The name's Felix. You're probably wonderin' why we brought you here, yeah? Or maybe you're just wonderin' why you're tied to that old chair?" he asked, stifling a laugh, "Well, unfortunately, you've angered some people, Mr. Cross. Especially my client."
"Heh, well, that's unfortunate," I stated, glancing at the man's holstered pistol that must have been used to knock me out. "What'd I do to make your client so angry anyway?" Ten seconds is all I need to get out of this, but then he'd shoot me. I need a distraction.
"Well, let's just say you've wronged him in the past." He took a moment to smoke his cigarette before continuing. "He did a favor for you, but you didn't do one for him, understand?"
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Who's your employer?" If I had to guess the identity of his client, I'd say they were a high-ranking official from a rival company like ARGENT or Binary Corporation trying to intimidate me. Or maybe this guy's just a dumb gang member trying to push me around.
"Don't worry, I'll tell ya." As Felix began to draw closer, I glanced at the blonde man to see if he had a weapon -- he carried a pistol as well. "But lemme just make this clear, Cross. I can easily put a bullet in your brain if you even think of messin' with me, so watch yourself." I remained silent for the time being. Again, I heard a door open and close in the distance, and Carlos returned. Looks like he found a baseball bat on the way back. Great. "Ahem. Years ago, when you were made the CEO of your company, you mysteriously disappeared one day. Now, we think you traveled the world in search of somethin', but that's not important. My client wants to know one thing: how did you escape the cultists on Monster Island?"
What did he just say?
"What are you talking about?" I attempted to feign ignorance, but I had a feeling it wouldn't work. How does he know? Or rather, how does his client know?
"That won't work on me, Cross. You shared a cell with my client, don't you remember? Drew Harrison."
A frown appeared on my face. I had a feeling he'd come back to haunt me, but I didn't think it'd be this soon.
When I disappeared years ago, I took my father's journal with me in order to investigate his findings without drawing suspicion from CrossCorp's corrupt board of directors. Under the guise of business trips, my father traveled to numerous countries around the world to investigate his own company's shady dealings with other corporations. Corruption happening right under a CEO's nose. Imagine that.
Following his notes, I found myself on Monster Island where I realized that CrossCorp had secured a deal with ARGENT to provide technological assistance with their animal poaching efforts in exchange for their chemical engineering research. Unfortunately, I was spotted and captured, but not by ARGENT.
"Drew Harrison is dead." I stated, slightly unsure of my own words.
"No, my friend." Felix replied with a grin. "He's alive, and he wants to have a little chat with you."
"How did you even get in touch with Drew?"
"Oh, I didn't do a thing. He contacted me. From what he told me, you guys were held captive by some crazed cultists for a while, yeah? Since Drew had been on the island longer, he was able to teach even a preppy kid like you how to survive that hell. And then you both came up with a plan to escape. Is that right?"
I was silent. Out of the many traumatic experiences I've experienced over the last few years, the island was by far one of the worst.
"It was apparently going so well, but then you two disagreed on something. I don't know what, but it apparently got him captured while you were able to escape without a hitch." Felix laughed. "Well, damn. That's mighty cold of you just to leave your partner behind, Cross. Hell, you would've fit nicely in my gang."
A sigh escaped my lips. That's not what happened. Drew died in that prison.
"And you know what the funny part is? I wondered why the hell this guy was telling me all this. Me of all people! Like I give a rat's ass about Gavin Cross, yeah? That is... until he told me who you really are."
My eyes narrowed again. You're kidding. He didn't.
Felix exhaled some smoke before continuing. "That's right. I know you're the Watchman. Yeah, I know what you did to my boys at the black market auction months ago. That's why I'm gonna have some fun with you before I hand you over to Drew. See, I agreed to kidnap your sorry ass for him for a lot of money, but he didn't say I couldn't bruise the merchandise first, right?"
Immediately, Carlos walked towards me with his bat, grinning. This wasn't good. If I broke free, I could immobilize him, but then Felix and the other one would shoot me. Worst of all, I don't have any of my gadgets with me. I might have to take some punishment before I find an opening. Carlos finally stopped in front of me. "Alright. Break his ribs first."
That's when the lights went out.
It took me only ten seconds. My cable ties were already off by then, and Felix's thugs were on the ground with a concussion and some minor fractures. The lights came back on, but Felix had found himself in a corner with his gun missing.
"No, stay back!" Felix cried out. I slammed my arm against his neck to keep him against the wall.
"Where is Drew?" I demanded.
"I-- He contacts me by phone! I don't know where he is!"
"That's unfortunate for you."
"No, wait! I--"
The sound of glass shattering. It happened in an instant. Three arrows with yellow fletchings embedded themselves in the heads of Felix and his thugs. Who the hell?
It was obvious someone was trying to save me, but who? I glanced back at the shattered window to see if I could find the shooter, but it was too dark. Did he also turn the lights off? Before I could think some more, I heard the sound of police sirens in the distance, so I had to act. Immediately, I checked their belongings to see if they carried anything important: Carlos had a burner phone, but that was of no use to me. Instead, I pulled the arrows from their corpses, and I left the warehouse, escaping into the rain.
"You understand the plan now?"
"Yeah, but it seems risky."
"Don't worry about it. As long as we don't run into anything unusual, it'll go perfectly."
"Alright, fine. But what about the others?"
"What about them?"
"Wait. You mean we're just leaving them here?"
When I arrived at the penthouse, I quickly dried myself off with a towel. I set the bloody arrows in a safe, hoping to analyze them in the cave tomorrow. Right now, I was tired. First the meeting and now this? Now on top of figuring out how to help the tornado survivors, I have to keep an eye out for a dead man and a mystery archer in the city. Now that I think about it, the archer must have called the police as well. I wonder if Drew... No, that couldn't be.
Sighing, I sat back in my chair and pulled out my vibrating smartphone. My secretary was calling. Alright, put on the act one last time, then you can go to bed. "Hey! Sorry about not seeing you today. The meeting left me a little drained, so I left early for a little stroll. Nah, I'm fine, just... found out that an old friend's back in town."
