A Means to an End

Image: usercontent1.hubstatic.com/12965896_f520.jpg

The glow from the watch faded from its active state to standby making the room get awfully dark.  The fact that the watch never reactivated said a lot about its wearer.  Justice tried to find some sort of guilt or remorse, but the anger that was fueled by his powers kept all of that at bay.

“Now do you see?” he asked.

“I see a little boy who got mad that his favorite toy is broken.”  The new voice came from a patch of darkness that was somehow darker.  “So he decided to have a temper tantrum.”

“Tread careful old man,” Justice said.

“Or what?” the shadow said.  Justice felt his head explode in pain as something large, hard, and moving faster than it should smashed into his left ear.  The transfer of momentum carried him off his feet, tossing the body that was attached to that head into the chair and onto the floor.  “Remember I made you, boy.”

Justice shook his head and immediately regretted the decision.  Still he managed to push himself to a sitting position.  “You made me?  I’m here because you screwed around once too many times and got lucky.  It doesn’t matter now.  I’m better than you.  The amount of Juice I can take would kill you.”

The shadow got darker, but this time Justice was waiting for it.  He lit himself up with a kick from his reserves burning through a lot of the Juice he had remaining.  The light chased away all the shadows revealing a hunched over bald man leaning on his four-footed cane.  The old man flinched away from that light and fell backward hard.  Justice maintained the light but focused it more on the shriveled-up figure in front of him leaving the rest of the room in shadow except for the weak light from the watch behind him. 

Justice slowly stood, never shifting his eyes or that spotlight.  “See, your little boy is now the man.”  He launched a kick into the man’s midsection.  The crack of bone snapping could be heard.  The old man howled and tried to curl himself up in a ball. 

“Any last words before I end our relationship?”

Justice felt his back explode in pain.  Soon his front joined in the chorus as he slammed face first into the far wall.  The room plunged into darkness except for the watch’s bright glow highlighting the old man in odd relief.

“I’ll take him,” the owner of the watch said.  “Puck ass kids like him deserve to have his timeclock punched.”  The watch face flared green, engulfing the old man, and slowly the wrinkles melted and the no longer old man stretched, seemingly popping his broken ribs back in place in the process.  “That’s your payment.  Now get out of my sight before I decide your time is up as well.”

“I feel amazing,” the formerly old man said.

“Don’t get too used to it.  Time waits for no one, well except for me.”  The watch faded back to standby. 

“Time runs out for everybody,” the old man said.

“What did you say?”

Before the formerly old man could respond, Justice lit up brighter than the noon day sun.  He sent a piercing beam of light into the body attached to the watch.  The watch flared to life, but its light was soon overwhelmed.  The watch once again faded to standby as the body attached to it sunk to their knees. 

The formerly old man reached a hand out and engulfed the watch in darkness.  “Time’s up, Buttercup.”

The owner of the watch screamed as the watch and the body attached to it faded into nothingness.

“Time’s up, Buttercup?” Justice said before he sagged to one knee.  He pulled out a small can, opened it, and poured the contents down his throat.  He crushed the can and flicked it onto the floor. 

The formerly old man stared at the can.  “What?” Justice asked.  Nothing broke the silence until Justice sighed and picked it up, placing it in the trash.   

The formerly old man smiled.  “I thought it was appropriate.” 

 “Appropriate?  You are one corny old bastard.”

“Who are you calling old?”  The formerly old man stood up straight, and now he towered over Justice.

Justice didn’t rise to the bait.  “So you happy how it turned out?”

The formerly old man ran his hands through his thick red curly hair.  The smile on his face said it all.  “Yeah, but that whole kicking in my lungs could have been avoided.”

“You said make it convincing.”

“You still broke my ribcage.  In multiple spots.  I was spitting up blood.”

Justice laughed.  “You said he would turn back your clock.  That was the deal for you delivering me, so I figured that also meant any damage I did to you would be rolled back as well.” 

The formerly old man crossed his arms in front of him.  “You went off script.”

Justice waived that comment off.  “Besides, I had to have a reason to keep up my sheath to help mitigate some of that last attack.  Damn that thing could hit.”

“That’s what you get when you can manipulate time.  Slow things down, reverse them, “

Justice finished it for him.  “Or speed them up.  Damn physics.  I hate momentum!”

The formerly old man patted Justice on the back.  “You’re learning.  There is hope for you yet, but for now let’s go home.”

“Sounds good.  What’s for dinner?”

“Your mom is making fried chicken.”

“She is going to freak out when she sees you,” Justice said.

“I know.  You might want to go out for a while after dinner.  I’ve got some things I need to do that I haven’t been able to for a looooooong time.”

“Dad!”

Jungle (an acrostic poem)

 

.Justice in this place seems to be defined by who can eat whom

Under the veneer of what some call civilization

Now I know how to fight to get what is mine

Given that we could just clearcut this place and set up something better

Looks like we are stuck in this humid hell at each other’s throats

Even as we all sing, “Welcome to the …”

 

Image: gvaquaworld.s3.us-west-2.amazonaws.com/entradas/mexican-jungle-trees-stream.jpg

Liberty (an acrostic poem)

 

Leaving the chains behind is just the start 

It means helping the formerly enslaved stand up 

Being there to lend a hand in moving forward 

Enabling them to not only survive but thrive 

Reach for those hands across the divide 

Trust that the world will be better in the long run 

You can help bring justice for all 

 

 

Image: thumbs.dreamstime.com/b/rust-iron-ball-chain-open-cuff-hanging-white-background-restrictions-limits-d-illustration-loss-freedom-100318340.jpg 

Justice (an acrostic poem)

Jurisprudence usually didn’t make Michelle laugh

Under normal circumstances, people’s lives hung into balance

Still, something about the state vs. a pair of puppies made her laugh

They did destroy a bunch of stuffed animals

In the photos, you could see the joy the two pups had in their crime spree

Cuteness would only get them and their owner so far

Eventually, the law would prevail, but would it just be a newspaper slap on the nose?

 

Image: puppyleaks.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/dogshaming.jpg

Guilty (an acrostic poem)

Grace without conditions was what was needed

Unless justice was allowed to prevail

I sat there, the proverbial gavel in my hand

Little did Leslie know I held her fate

Try as hard as I could, I could not acquit

Yelling foul I convicted her of traveling

 

Image: upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/7/72/Basketball_Clipart.svg/1035px-Basketball_Clipart.svg.png

Justice and Retribution (A Lost Hope Story)

The Man walked out of the mists, Retribution sheathed on his hip.  Lost Hope materialized from a gas lamp lump of light attempting to fight back the evening fog and never really making much progress.  The buildings here almost waved in the slight breeze that carried the smell of cheap liquor and even cheaper despair.

Tobias had been waiting here for the Man, leaning on his staff for strength.  He was always a bit spooked by the eyes of the Man that were just black and white, exactly how the Man saw the world.  Tobias wished he didn’t have to work with the Man, but he had no choice this time.

“Why did you summon me?” asked the Man.  His voice was a whisper, but carried with the force of a thrown sledgehammer.

“We have a killer here,” Tobias said.

The Man snarled.  “You called me for that?  Bah!”  The Man turned and began to walk back into the mists.

Tobias wanted so badly to just let him go.  He could let the Man walk off into myth and legend.  He would then tell the council he had tried.  But then the thoughts of the families and he couldn’t keep his voice silent.  “Six murders, all women and children,” he said.

The Man stopped in his tracks.  Without turning around he said, “And?”

“All of them blinded before having their left hand chopped off,” Tobias spit out.  Just speaking of the atrocities chilled Tobias to the bone.

The Man turned around and walked back silently to stand in front of Tobias.  Tobias stared the Man in his eyes, but refused to say more, wishing he was anywhere but here.

The Man finally blinked his weird eyes and drew Retribution out of its sheath.  The sword glowed with a blood red light.   The mists seemed to retreat from it, and Tobias wished he could join them, but he stood his ground.

“Retribution has been drawn.  It will not return to its sheath until the killer is dead,” stated the Man.  The Man didn’t wait for a response from Tobias and walked into town, looking at everything through the red glow of Retribution.

Tobias turned to watch the Man, but didn’t move to follow.  He helped bring the Man here, but he wasn’t going to stay and see what happened.  He hobbled into the mists using his staff and whistling, making sure anything from Hell that followed the Man knew he was there.  Maybe heaven would have mercy on his soul, but the deal was made with the devil and he didn’t want to be there when the bill came due.

 

The Man walked into town, Retribution sweeping back and forth.  No other people came out to witness the spectacle.  The Man walked the street alone until he came upon something that even his unseeing eyes widened in horror.  Six people were staked to a crude wooden fence, their left hands scattered on the ground in front of them.  Most were dead, but one boy still cried what little life he had inside out, one tear at a time.  That was when the first shot rang out.  The musket ball hit the Man in the shoulder spinning him around to face the next six shots that were fired from the rooftops of the adjacent buildings.  The Man staggered under the impact of the onslaught and Retribution almost slipped from his hand.  Another volley sounded out and the Man fell back onto the ground.  Retribution’s glow intensified as the Man gasped to breathe through lead riddled lungs.

A man wearing a law badge came out of the building across from the macabre fence.  “How does it feel now?” he asked.  The Man’s reply was swallowed by the blood competing with the air leaving his lungs.  Retribution continued to glow more brightly.  The lawman walked close, but made sure to stay just out of the Man’s reach.  “No one is above the law of man, especially not one of the Fallen,” said the lawman.

The Man lifted Retribution and pointed it at the lawman.  The lawman pulled out his six shooter and in rapid succession fired six more bullets into the Man.  Retribution fell back to the ground, but the Man still held onto the sword and kept on breathing.

“Gary, you need to use the boy before he dies,” a voice called out from behind the fence.  The Man turned his head to see a man wearing a priest’s collar cutting the boy away from the fence.  The boy fell face first to the ground with a sickening thud.

The lawman, Gary, moved around the Man and scooped up the boy.  “My God, Brent, don’t make the pour boy suffer more than he has to,” Gary said.

Brent pulled at his collar.  “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain, Gary.  You don’t want to be damned for eternity.”

“And this hasn’t done it already?” Gary asked as he dropped the boy nearly on top of Retribution.  The Man began to writhe in pain, but he still held Retribution, its glow now driving back not only the mists, but the gaslights as well.  The holes in his chest seemed to be closing in the blood red light.

“Sometimes the innocent must be sacrificed to kill a greater evil,” said Brent.  “And ridding creation of a Fallen is a greater honor.  The sacrificed will dance on his grave in paradise.”

The Man looked at Brent and growled in his whisper voice. “You will never see paradise.”

Brent began to weep blood.  He blinked back those tears and shouted, “Satan, get behind me!”  The Man propped himself up on the hand not holding Retribution.

The Man heard a metallic click and looked back just as Gary let loose with another six shots from his second gun.  That put the Man back on the ground, but Retribution was now almost humming power as it became blinding.

Gary leaned over the boy who was breathing his last few breaths.  “God will wipe away your tears.”  With that he reached over and grabbed the hand of the Man that held Retribution.  The lawman picked up the Man’s hand and raised it over the boy.  The Man screamed as the blade plunged down through the boy’s heart, pinning the boy’s corpse to the ground.  The sound of a thunderclap sounded and Retribution broke in half.  The Man stopped his screaming and closed his black and white eyes forever.

“We are saved!” yelled Brent.  “Praise the Lord!”

 

Tobias listened to the thunderclap as it reverberated off the distant hills. He wondered if Lost Hope was now saved, or damned to yet another hell.  No matter what, he wasn’t going to stay around to figure it out.  These were not his sheep anymore.  It was time to find a new shepherd.  He hobbled on, his staff Justice in his hand to help him on his way.