Soul Census - War of Shadows - Book 1

Chapter 1.1 - New Recruit

Earth Date: 8th of April 1933 CE
Location: New York, USA, Earth

Reflections in the puddles of rain painted the same ugly picture he tried to avoid seeing directly. With each step the dilapidated buildings shook, the street lights shimmered and the sky retreated away as if distancing itself from the scum on the ground. A dark figure in the water stared back at him, an observer lurking above the reflected world around.

Maddock tried to avoid the figure, trying instead to imagine that man-- himself, in better surroundings. Perhaps the green fields of the western front; even if it did mean dodging the black plumes of death from the exploding air around him.

But there was no avoiding the place he was in now-- gradually pushed into this rat maze of a city by the decisions he made; the eager mouse he was chasing that elusive cheese. His stomach growled angrily, reminded of its barren emptiness. Why did he have to think about cheese?

Willem Maddock tore his vision from the wet ground as his ears picked up a familiar sound... a scream for help. Without hesitating, he followed the sound to a nearby alleyway where he was presented with an all-too-familiar scene. His senses dissected the caper into the particulars: two men beating a third into the ground surrounded by the sounds of fists whipping into wet fabric and flesh.

A woman stood beside a lamp post, stretching her arms out, crying and yelling for help-- maybe the victim's dame. The hoods ignored her, as did the cowards that crossed past the alleyway, pretending to hear nothing.

These were tough times and Maddock had his own problems, but he was no match for his own conscious... and sleep is hard to come by as it is.

Reaching into his pocket, he slipped his fingers into a pair of brass knuckles-- one of the few possessions he had not pawned. Taking in a breath, he left the safety of the shadows and entered into the fray.

The two men continued their deed, unaware of his approach. Maddock sized them up briefly before targeting them. They both looked like typical hoods. The one dealing the beating was average build and wore a white fedora that somehow stayed on his head despite the wild swings he made as he landed his blows.

The other was tall and lanky with kinky dark hair that seemed to drip a mixture of rain and dirt. He held the victim by one arm, bullying him into the wall with his shoulder-- as if the poor lug needed to be secured at this point.

As for the victim... the blood splatter on his face and clothing was all he advertised.

Maddock dove at the one administering the beating, grabbing him by the shirt collar and landing a solid blow to his jaw. He felt and heard the chin music of a loud crack signaling a broken jaw. The follow-up kick to the mid-section was more for pleasure than necessity.

The lanky one threw a weak punch at Maddock; he saw it coming, but rather than dodge it he grabbed the wrist with his left hand and pulled him off balance, causing the hood to fall on his face.

Not satisfied with gravity having all the fun, Maddock kicked him over, then grabbed him by the chest-- fabric and some skin in hand, he pulled him up to his feet screaming like a dame. Three solid brass knuckle shots later, he threw the slime ball to the ground and let the rain wash him into the sewers.

Turning his attention to the victim, he bent down and checked his face. Some bad bruises a couple gashes, but nothing too serious. The blows seemed to be concentrated on his stomach; they weren’t trying to kill him, they were just trying to make him feel real bad. The man lurched over and upchucked on the ground; they apparently succeeded on that front.

“Relax,” Maddock said, pulling him onto his feet. “Breath.”

At that moment, the girl came over and assaulted him with thank you’s and urged him to join them so that they could fix him a nice meal in appreciation. Did he look that much like a bum?

“Just beat it,” Maddock said. “Before these bimbos recover.”

They continued to insist on the meal, until Maddock yelled and threatened to continue what the other two started. They stopped being nice and ran off, disappearing into the streets under the cover of rain.

Maddock looked up. The rim of his boater traversed the sky, exposing his face to the elements. Cold drops of rain poured down his neck and he suppressed a shiver.

A flash of lightning cracked the sky, painting a distant world hidden in the clouds. He closed his eyes just as the thunder rumbled in his ears.

The vibration traveled up his legs and his hand trembled. He reflexively clenched the joystick of a SPAD XIII that was not there. The sound of his twin Vickers machine guns echoed in his mind. When he released the trigger, he saw the wing of his unintended target-- the round, blue and white emblems of another SPAD XIII spewing black smoke on its way to a fiery death.

Maddock forced his eyes open and glanced around. He was not in the air over Europe, this was New York City and the Great War was over.

He walked over to a nearby building overhang and leaned against the wall to shield himself from the rain. In the alley ahead of him, the two hoods were groaning and coming to their feet. Maddock should have probably scrammed already, but instead he casually lit up a Lucky Strike and took a drag.

The taller hood stood up and immediately went over to the other to help him up. The shorter one pushed him off, ordering him instead to retrieve his hat.

Maddock looked down at the ground, noticing the fedora was only a few steps away. The sap stomped over and noticed Maddock for the first time. At first, just a minor scowl, then the sudden recognition hit him and his eyes got wide. He scrambled back to his partner, leaving the fedora behind. They whispered for a moment before turning to him.

“You’re dead,” the leader said as he stepped toward Maddock. Halfway to him, he turned around and realized his taller partner was gone.

Maddock flicked the cigarette at him. The hood froze, looking around for a getaway.

“So what was your beef with that couple?” Maddock said.

The hood did not give an answer and took off running.

Maddock could have stopped him, but a scared cat is not a fight.

Disappointed, he slipped his brass knuckles into his jacket and continued his original trek back onto the main street.

As he traversed the sidewalk, he felt something-- a pair of unseen eyes staring at him. He glanced at the reflection of a shop window he passed-- a suited figure about twenty paces behind him.

Undeterred, Maddock kept walking. Slipping his hand back into his jacket for the safety of his brass knuckles again. He missed having Jessie with him-- the pet name for his revolver. But it was between having enough money for a decent outfit that might help him land a job, or a gun that would only get him into trouble-- he chose the former, yet the latter always seemed to follow him.

Maddock ducked into the next alley-- a dead end, but that was fine with him. His life had reached a dead end anyway. He'd finished the war an ace-- a knight of the sky. The same people who treated him like a war hero when he returned, year later treated him like an outcast when the jobs dried up. Battling the great depression became his next war.

He stopped halfway into the alley and started to turn around-- ready to dare whatever was coming for him.

“Come on, pal. I haven’t got all day,” Maddock said as he turned around, but the stranger was not there.

Maddock chuckled. He had not had a good meal in him for days, maybe he was seeing things.

“Captain Willem Maddock,” a voice said behind him.

He whirled around, jumping a few feet back-- he slipped and fell onto the wet ground.

Maddock looked up, his face flushed with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

“Relax, Maddy,” the stranger said. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

Maddock scrambled to his feet, and despite the intro, launched himself at the stranger. Before he could reach him, he felt a sudden shock-- electric maybe.

His body fell limp to the ground, but he was still fully conscious. His muscles tightened up uncontrollably-- he tried to fight it, to regain control, but found himself just curling into a fetal position instead.

“Sorry about that,” the man said. Maddock noticed he held something in his hand, it looked like a gun. “Try not to fight the stun, it only makes it worse. It will wear off soon.”

Maddock saw him kneel down next to him. The stranger wore a full, 4-piece suit with an expensive-looking homburg hat. He had an oval face with green eyes, and round-rim glasses. He had a strange accent too.

“That was a bit unexpected back there with those two. Quick work, that I expected. But you didn’t bother to make any friends with the couple... turned down a good meal even, didn’t ask any questions, no interest in why they were being beat. You just sent them on their way and continued to starve instead, eh?”

Maddock felt his muscles go numb and tingle-- same feeling one gets when your leg falls asleep. Maybe he would regain control soon and bring this bastard down to the ground with him.

“I’m not interested in making new friends,” Maddock said. “Already had my share of them in this life.”

The stranger raised an eyebrow. “An interesting choice of words, Maddy.”

At that moment, he heard footsteps. He managed to turn his head to get a better look. It was a man and a woman walking up to them-- the couple he saved earlier.

“Here’s that chance to make friends,” the stranger said. “Maybe get a good meal in you.”

“So they’re with you?” Maddock said. “You a torpedo or something?”

The stranger laughed. “No, Maddy, I wasn’t hired to kill you. I was hired to do something else though.” He motioned to the couple. “Help me with him.”

The three of them pulled his body from the wet floor and balanced him on his feet.

“I’m sorry to meet you like this,” the stranger said. “My name is Agent Wolfe. And you see, my associates here were supposed to make friends with you, get to know you, profile you to see if you would be a good fit for the Bureau. But all of that is shot to s*** now, so we go with Plan B.”

Maddock studied Wolfe. Something about him seemed off, but he could not place it. He had to be foreign.

“The bureau huh?” Maddock said. “So you’re with Uncle Sam... I’ve had enough working for Uncle Sam.”

Wolfe shook his head. “Much more complicated than that. Uncle Sam doesn’t run things where I’m from.”

“Come on flyboy,” the girl said, realizing for the first time what pretty hazel eyes she had. “You’ve just been drafted by Auntie Sam; and she’s really impatient about these things.”

At that moment, a black Studebaker pulled into the alley, its lights off. Before he could say another word, he felt another shock, and this time, he did lose consciousness.