The Last Hunt
Arthur quickly adapted to the handling of his recently acquired vehicle. After his initial rush of adrenaline had mellowed, he was now a lot calmer and followed his target at a safe distance.
He tailed the black sedan as it left the city center, and drove across the East River towards the neighboring borough. By now, the sun was starting to rise, and several more cars could be seen on the road, which helped Arthur blend in.
He followed his target off the central avenue and down one of the many streets that led towards the docks. After a few more turns, the car eventually came to a stop in front of an old warehouse. Arthur could not slow down or stop to observe, as his target would then certainly figure out they were being followed, if they had not done so already.
He instead followed the garbage truck directly in front of him, which was signalling its intention to turn into a street to his left. Upon entering the street, Arthur brought his car to a stop, turning the engine off before he stepping out and jogging back to the road he had just left.
He peered around the corner to see that the sedan had disappeared from its previous location. Arthur cursed his luck, as he still had not gotten a look at the diver behind the car's tinted windows. He pulled out his revolver once more, confirming it was loaded before pocketing it again.
He pulled up the collar of his jacket and approached the warehouse with his hands in his pocket, the fingers of his right hand wrapped around the handle of his gun.
The warehouse had a red brick exterior and seemed to a remnant from the previous century. The rusted iron shutters along with graffiti adorning its walls informed Arthur of its abandoned status. He looked around and noticed a driveway that led around the building. The width of the path would allow two large trucks to pass side by side, and suggested that it likely led to a loading bay.
Arthur approached the building and hugged the wall as he turned the corner into the driveway. There he saw the black sedan once more; its trunk was popped open, and it was parked with its rear pointed towards a half open garage door.
Arthur felt his heartbeat quicken. Whatever was in the trunk must have been a handful. He gulped as he steeled his resolve, and prepared himself to duck under the half open shutter. It was the moment of truth; once he crossed the threshold, he would come face to face either with his nemesis, or a very confused warehouse owner. After summing up all he had seen so far, Arthur was willing to bet on the former.
He used his thumb to cock back the hammer of his revolver, and tightened his grip around the handle. The inside of the warehouse was dark, so Arthur closed his eyes for a few seconds to let his pupils adjust to darkness before he moved in. He took in a sharp breath before his breach training kicked in and he no longer hesitated.
He ducked and stepped through the low opening before immediately coming up on the other side and establishing stable footing. He took a few quick steps into the open space, his eyes scanning for movement and his hand followed his vision with the gun. Arthur then ducked behind a concrete pillar, taking cover as he scanned his surroundings further. The morning sunlight pouring in through a few holes in the high ceiling was the only source of illumination.
Now that he was indoors and was no longer harassed by the strong winds that frequented the bank of the East River, Arthur could hear a faint noise coming from deeper within the warehouse. He stopped his breathing so that he could hear the sound more clearly, but took in a sharp breath when he figured out what he was listening to.
To him, it sounded like whimpering; a sound he had heard many times before, but only after the victims had been already rescued. Arthur steadied his shaking hand, now almost certain that the man he had followed was Logan Hartman, who was also likely to be the man who had earned the moniker of Ultimate Copycat from the Bureau.
Rage clouded Arthur's face as he remembered his daughter's killer. He grit his teeth for moment, but then took a few deep breaths to regain his calm, his anger now cold fury that burned quietly within.
It would probably be wise of him to back off now, and go to the nearest telephone booth to call any of his old friends. But Arthur knew that if he left now, it would be too late to save the girl whose pained cries he was hearing. He had spend years wishing someone like him was present to save his daughter, and he was unable to abandon this innocent child to the same cruel fate.
He held up his gun once more as he left his cover and moved towards the source of the noise. Although he tried to move gently, the empty warehouse amplified the sound of his steps, making it almost certain that his position had been given away.
He turned a corner and found the source of the disturbance. His eyes shot wide as he processed what he was seeing. In front of was a young woman, the same one he had seen leaving the club with Logan earlier. There was a tight gag on her mouth, and she had her hands tied behind her back. A noose was tightened around her neck and the attached rope which extended into the rafters was pulled taught, forcing the girl on to the tip of her toes.
Below her feet supporting her weight was a shaky stack of books, and she tied her best to maintain her balance, for if she slipped, she would be strangled to death by the rope around her neck. Arthur recognised the books that made up the stack, for he had authored them himself.
The girl spotted Arthur only a moment after he had spotted her, and immediately her quiet cries became louder as she tried to shout for his attention. In her excitement, her foot slipped and she knocked over one of the stacks she was standing on. The increased pressure on her neck made her panic, as she then knocked over the other stack too.
The girl was now fully suspended by the neck, as she writhed like a fish out of water, her loud muffled cried echoing through the empty warehouse. Arthur tried to aim at the rope that was supporting her weight, but her movement made it swing erratically and it was impossible to get a good shot.
"God Fucking Dammit!" he cursed. Arthur was smart enough to realize his target had lured him into a trap, but the man was nowhere in sight. Logan could be in any darkened corner of the warehouse, observing him through a scope. Arthur needed to save the girl, as it was the only to figure out where his nemesis was without eating a few bullets.
Having come to his decision, Arthur no longer hesitated. He sprinted over to the girl and wrapped his arms around her legs, pinning her knees to his chest and pushing her up, taking the suffocating pressure off her neck.
"Hold Still!" he commanded as he reached up and attempted to undo the bindings on her wrists. He hoped the girl would be able to then help herself out of her noose, as he could not reach it himself. He could not see what he was doing as the girls wrists were on the other side of her body to him, and one of his hands was occupied by his revolver.
"Where is he!" Arthur asked despite knowing girl could not answer him at the moment.
As he scrambled to undo the bindings, loud whimpering which had died down flared up again, but before Arthur could pinpoint what was wrong, he received an unexpected response.
"Right Here!" a voice answered his question. Before Arthur could turn around, a metal pipe hit him across the back of head, causing him to fall the ground lapsing in and out of consciousness. His revolver clattered on to the floor next to him, which he then saw get kicked into the distance by a socked foot.
He also saw two bare feet kicking around in the air next to him and he realized that the girl was once more hanging by her neck. He rolled his sluggish body over and positioned himself under her, so that she could find find some perchage by standing on his body and extend her life by a few more moments.
This was not an act born out of altruism, but the best move his battered brain could come up with the moment. He trusted the profile he had created, and he knew his nemesis liked to psychologically torture his victims before killing them.
In this time, Logan had walked a few steps away to secure the handgun he had kicked to the side after realizing that Arthur was dowm for the count.
"Mr. Hayes, what a pleasure it is to finally meet you." Logan said as he picked up the gun and turned to look at Arthur. When he noticed his idol had placed himself under the feet of his latest prey, Logan clicked his tongue in disapproval.
"You finally found me, I thought It would take you a few more clues, but you're not a legend for nothing." He said as he approached Arthur.
He stood in front of two latest victims as he spoke once more. "Here, let take some load off of you." he said politely, before pulling out a pocket knife dragging it straight across the abdomen of the young woman who was now standing on Arthur as her last resort.
She screamed as loudly as she could muster though her gag as her guts spilled out and fell onto Arthur below. She continued to struggle for a few more moments before she went completely limp and Arthur no longer had to support her weight.
"Much better, isn't it?" Logan asked with a teasing look on his face.
Arthur did not respond, and only stared ahead dazedly. Logan chucked at his response before saying something he know would grab his attention. "I suppose you want to know what Cassie's last words were?"
The look on Arthur's face changed as it warped into a blend of fury and sorrow.
"Hahaha!" Logan chortled loudly very pleased with his work. " Fine, fine. Don't look at me like that, I'll tell you.. She said that her daddy would find me.. ha! I suppose she was right after all." Logan mused.
"Tough nut to crack, that one. But all I had to do was convince her that daddy would not be coming to save her. That you had abandoned her. Then she too cried and begged like all the rest." Logan said as he looked at the girl's hanging body with a reminiscent smile on his face.
"You must be curious about why I did it?" he asked as he focused on Arthur once more.
"I already know why you did it!" Arthur spat back.
"Oh? Do enlighten me." Logan asked teasingly.
"A mix of narcissistic personality disorder, attention seeking, and fetishism.. but most importantly, childhood abuse." Arthur said with a fierce glint in his eyes as he sat back up.
Logan was no longer smiling as he now pointed his gun at Arthur. "Shut up! What do you know?"
"I know a lot, Logan. Was it your uncle? While your father was away for the war? Or was it your coach?" Arthur said with a teasing tone in his voice.
"To cope with your trauma, you started hurting the animals you trapped in the woods behind your house. Eventually, you wondered what it would be like to do the same to another person, preferably to your abuser... but you didn't know how.. and that's when you found my book." Arthur continued without bothering to hide his ridicule any longer.
"You were sloppy Logan, the reason it took me so long to find you is because of the vermin who followed your example, muddying the waters. You don't even have half the number of victims as The Werewolf, and you are nowhere near as cunning.. now, that was a hard case to crack." It was now Arthur's turn to reminisce as he sat with his arms resting on his knees, completely ignoring the swaying body dripping blood all around him.
He could see the veins on Logan's forehead bulging in response to his words. For a narcissist like him, dismissing him as mediocre was the worst thing you could do. As such, it was entirely within Arthur's expectations when Logan lunged at him looking to pommel him with the handle of the revolver.
Arthur had been waiting for this exact moment as the hand resting on his knee reached into his boot and pulled out his old paratrooper knife, which he then lashed across Logan's inner thigh.
Logan screamed and reacted to the sudden attack by pulling the trigger of his revolver, hitting Arthur in the middle of his chest. Although he had worn a bulletproof vest, it could not protect him from the high caliber of his very own gun, which he had ironically selected so that he could kill his target even if they wore protection.
Arthur collapsed to the ground, blood seeping out from his wound staining his shirt red, and pooling on the ground in front of him. He saw Logan hobble off into the distance until his vision started to blur. A slight smile hung on his lips.
The Copycat was as good as dead. The man had cleverly led Arthur into a trap and disarmed him of his weapon, but the man's fragile psychological state became his undoing. He would either bleed to death from the cut femoral artery, or end up in a hospital where he would be heavily questioned and found out. Not to mention the gunshot would attract anyone nearby, and they would find two bodies when they came to investigate.
Arthur had accomplished his goal; he had avenged his little girl. The emotional relief brought by his success caused his eyes to warer. Tears rolled out from the corner of his eyes as he thought about his daughter in his last moments. Faith was a difficult thing to maintain in his line of work, and Arthur had never been religious. But in this moment, he found himself wishing the afterlife was real, so that he could see Cassandra once more, so that he could hold her in his arms again, and tell her he was sorry for not being there.
Arthur felt the pain start in his chest start to melt away as his consciousness began to fade.. The world around him darkened as the life of the greatest detective in the world came to an end following his last hunt.
.....
"Hmm?" Arthur asked himself in confusion. He was sure he had died, but now he felt as if he had only woken up from a long nap. Did someone get to him before he kicked the bucket and bring him to a hospital? He willed his heavy eyelids open only to be stunned at the sight that greeted him.
He stood by himself in a grand hall facing twelve large thrones which arranged in a semicircle, all but one of them occupied. He stood facing the center of the formation, and his eyes settled on the being directly in front of him, sitting elegantly on one of the two central seats; a woman more beautiful than anything he knew could be possible.
As Arthur's mind was reeling in an attempt to understand what was happening, the woman spoke to him, her silky voice carrying across the large hall.
"Welcome, Arthur." she said.