"Peer... Peerless?"
"Surprised?"
Locke, wearing his sunglasses, adjusted his cuffs with deliberate slow. He calmly ejected his magazine, swapped in a fresh one, and looked down at the junkie, Barry Weiss, who was sprawled on the ground not far away. "I told you I'd find you, didn't I?"
Barry Weiss snapped out of his daze. Thenâ
*Bang!*
"Aghâ!"
A bullet punched clean through his right knee, shattering the bone instantly. Barry face-planted into the pavement, spitting out three teeth as he let out a harrowing, gut-wrenching scream.
"Fuck!"
"Fuck!"
"Fuck!"
The junkie cursed through the pain, gritting his teeth as he tried to push himself up on his ruined leg.
Next second.
*Bang!*
*Thud!*
"Agh!"
Falling back to the earth, Barry Weiss twitched, staring at the splattered fragments of his own kneecaps on the asphalt. Cold sweat poured down his forehead in sheets.
Below Gwen's apartment, Locke glanced up slightly.
"Holy shit!" Gwen, who was upstairs, gasped. She instinctively grabbed the Locke standing next to her and pulled him down into a crouch.
Both the real Locke and his avatar simultaneously let out a subtle, elegant smile.
Down on the street, Barry Weiss rolled onto his back. Looking at Locke as he slowly approached, he suddenly broke into a manic, desperate grin. "Come on! Do it! Kill me! You and I... we're the same!"
*Bang!*
"Agh!"
Barry clutched his right hand to his chest, shrieking in agony.
Locke actually laughed. "You and I are the same? There's a massive difference. For starters: you're nowhere near as handsome as I am."
The sweat on Barry's brow fell like rain.
"Furthermore..." Locke's voice was soft, conversational, as if he were chatting with a friend. "Dying isn't that simple. If everyone could just apologize with their deaths after impersonating me, who would have any reason to fear me? To me, you're a sacrificial lambâthe chicken I kill to warn the monkeys. Why would I let you off so easily with a quick death?"
Barry's lip quivered. "Pah..."
*Bang!*
"AGGGHHH!"
Locke chuckled. "Trying to provoke me? I am angry, but I can control my anger. So don't waste your energy. You won't dieâthat is my promise. But you will wish you could. That is also my promise. I've prepared a program for you. I think you'll really like it."
Locke tilted his head, watching the junkie who now had shattered knees and pierced palms. Tears and snot ran down the man's face.
Locke hadn't originally planned to be this brutal.
Unfortunately, he had wanted to be kind, but some people insist on seeking death, mistaking his mercy for a license to act without consequence.
The junkie on the ground was now sinking into a bottomless pit of terror.
Locke pulled out his phone and dialed.
"Hello?"
"Ms. Finn, I thought you might not pick up my call again."
"...Peerless?" Patty Finn, George's high school ex and the golden producer of NY Channel 1, stopped in her tracks. She had just left the police station after a grueling all-night interrogation by FBI profilers and wanted nothing more than to sleep. Hearing that voice, she froze. "You're the Legendary Assassin?"
"Correct. Hold on a moment."
Locke looked down at Barry, who had begun to shiver. He reached into his jacket, pulled out a Small Health Potion, uncapped it, and forced the liquid down Barry's throat.
Instantly, the color returned to Barry's face.
"What... what did you give me?"
"Something to keep you from dying." Locke's lips curved upward as he looked at the now-revitalized junkie. "I said you won't die. Not until I give you permission."
*Bang!*
"Agh!"
Amidst the scream, Locke spoke into the phone. "Patty, are you free tonight?"
Hearing the gunshot and the scream, Patty realized what was happening. "Mr. Peerless, you caught the imposter?"
Locke laughed. "I thought it was some old enemy trying to bait me out. I didn't expect it to be this easy. I thought it would take at least three days to flush this rat out."
Patty didn't know how to respond, so she gave a polite, nervous laugh.
Locke continued. "So, is the live slot open tonight? Or do I need to drop by the office again like I did yesterday?"
Patty opened her car door but canceled her plan to go back into the station to talk to the feds. This was a ratings goldmine.
"It's open," she said, putting her bag in the passenger seat. "But Mr. Peerless, if we put out a teaser, aren't you afraid the NYPD will be waiting for you?"
"I'm not afraid."
"...May I ask why?"
"Because..." Locke watched as a fleet of police cars, sirens wailing, rounded the corner. He smiled. "Your friend George is already here."
"What?"
"Tonight at... let's say nine o'clock. I'll bring the imposter over. I hope the ratings are as good as yesterday's when we go live. You like running teasers, don't you? I give you permission. Any problems?"
"...Of course not. Butâ"
Locke hung up.
The sound of slamming police car doors echoed down the street. George, Jason, and Kate Beckett drew their weapons instantly. A dozen officers aimed their rifles at Locke, who stood in the middle of the road, making no effort to hide.
George roared, "Hands up!"
Barry Weiss, having taken five bullets by now, saw the cops and reacted as if they were his saviors. He twisted his head and screamed, "Save me! You damn cops, fire! Shoot him! Kill him!"
Locke sneered, looking at George fifty meters away. "George, do you really believe that if you take him in, the law can properly judge this man?"
George said grimly, "I don't know. But I know you have no right to kill him!"
"He killed your friend."
"..."
"If not for me, your friend would be dead right now."
"..."
"He killed one of your colleagues."
"..."
"And he likely killed another on his way here."
Locke's voice was flat as he kept a foot on the junkie's chest. He stared at George. "Does a man like this deserve the 'mercy' of the law?"
Yes, mercy. People who boast about being "law-abiding" are often scum. The law is the floor, the absolute minimum standardânever the ceiling. When someone breaks the floor, using the law to deal with them isn't justice; it's an act of forgiveness.
"Besides..." Locke smiled. "I promised your friend a live broadcast tonight. I have to give New York an explanation. You wouldn't want me to break my word, would you?"
George's face remained stone.
"George..." Jason Braut stared at the bleeding junkie on the ground. Knowing what had happened to Jeff, his voice was thick with rage. "George..."
"Jason! We are police officers!" George snapped. They were there to uphold the law, not bypass it.
Locke raised an eyebrow. That was the George he knew. He respected a man who could control his rage and refuse to break his principles.
Locke looked at Jason and smiled. Then, he took his foot off the junkie and stepped back.
"Fine, George. You want him? He's yours. Come and get him."
Locke knew George could die, but he couldn't die here. Not in front of his own house. Gwen was still watching from the window; if her father's blood painted the pavement, her mind would shatter.
Besides, it was still early. Let the junkie go to the hospital with George, get patched up, and maybe put in a wheelchair. It would save Locke the trouble of dragging the trash to the TV station himself. New Amsterdam Hospital was only two blocks away from the station anyway.
Locke raised his hands high and backed up ten paces.
George gestured to two officers.
Seeing them approach, the junkie roared, "You useless bastards! Shoot! He's a killer! Fire! What are you doingâAgh!"
The two officers reached him, flipped him over without a hint of gentleness, and cinched the cuffs tight around his wrists.
"Fuck!" Barry screamed. "I'm getting a lawyer! I'll sue you all! I want a lawyer!"
Locke watched the grim faces of the officers, then looked at George. "George, I have an appointment. Nine o'clock tonight, live. I'm giving him to you for now. Interrogate him all you want. But if your methods haven't worked by eight o'clock... then we do it my way."
George's brow pulsed.
Locke glanced at Gwen's window, then back to George, cutting him off before he could speak. "Don't haggle with me, George. I have no interest in being an enemy of the law. You try to catch me, I understand. But this time is different. He offended youâbut he offended me more."
He tapped his bare wrist. "It's ten in the morning. You have ten hours. If your way fails, we play by mine."
With that, Locke turned the corner and vanished from sight.
***
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