Doomblade faced Denar squarely, his eyes piercing the young man’s with an intensity that could melt gold.

“I worked with the police force once,” he began, his voice cold, laced with layers of resentment. “Not as one of them exactly—but as something more… useful.”

Denar tilted his head slightly, curiosity flickering in his expression.

“They called me a ‘special assistant.’ My abilities made me an asset they couldn’t ignore. My ability to scale buildings, see things from afar, move with supreme speed and agility… it’s something I was born with.” He paused, his voice lowering. “I don’t like to think about what my parents must have done to pass this… this double-edged sword down to me. Whether it was some scientific experiment gone wrong, or something they got from a witch doctor or whatever… they never told me about it, and the secret died along with them when I was a teenager. But that’s irrelevant for now.”

Denar’s heart pounded, but he kept his expression neutral, listening intently.

“So yeah, I used my gift to help them. I’d pinpoint who was behind the latest robbery, and which gang was planning what. I even led them to illegal trafficking rings before they struck. They loved me for it. Commended my work, hailed me as a miracle. They said I was making the city safer. Everything was moving pretty well.

“But then, there was Esi.”

Doomblade’s voice surprisingly softened for just a moment, almost in reverence. “She was… everything. A kind, brilliant, beautiful soul. She believed in people doing the right thing, and she… she was my only true friend. Sure, people loved me and all, but she… she was a special one. A lot more intimate. Not in terms of sleeping with her, but, just having someone who knew who Doomblade actually was. She actually knew Dean Beresford. Not Doomblade, the dude with super-sharp vision and the abilities of Spiderman. But Dean Beresford, the weird guy who loved all the applause and stuff, sure, but also… wanted real friendship.

“She was always the first to celebrate me on my birthday, sending me lunch at the most random of times. She believed in me. She was good to me. With her, I knew I had a friend. A real friend, not just the others who loved me for my heroics and all that shit. A real one. She was a real one.”

He paused, his fists clenching at his sides. Denar could feel the rage emanating from him.

“And Isaac Asare… that filthy son of a bitch… took her away.”

He spat the name, his lips curling in disgust.

Denar stiffened, recognizing the name instantly. He kept his expression neutral, listening intently, but inwardly, he could not believe what he heard.

“Isaac was a police officer, but also, a low-key creep, the kind who thought his father’s title as Mayor gave him license to do whatever he pleased. He had this sick… entitlement, especially when it came to girls. They had to say yes to him or he’d throw a fit and hurt them. With Esi, he went too far. She caught his eye, and when she rejected him, he couldn’t handle it. He killed her one night. Stalked her, caught her from behind, strangled her to death, and dumped her in an alley like she was nothing.”

Denar’s throat tightened, but he forced himself to stay calm and keep listening.

Doomblade’s voice grew more dangerous. “I knew it was him. I found the evidence and brought it to the captain myself. I thought… I thought justice would be served. That this fucking idiot who somehow found himself in the police force would be made an example. It was the least Esi deserved, after such a horrid and undeserved end.

“But guess what? The IGP and the mayor had other plans. They couldn’t let their golden boy take the fall—especially not with an election looming. So they found a scapegoat, framed another criminal for the murder, and closed the case.” His voice broke for a moment, then hardened. “They even had the gall to parade it as a victory for justice.”

Denar bit his lips, a genuine surge of anger rising within him. This was disgusting to hear. Doomblade was clearly no angel, far from it. But to hear that justice had been thwarted… this irked him. He despised these sorts of happenings so much.

Doomblade took a step closer, his shadow looming over Denar. “Watching all those officers pat themselves on the back made me sick. All that talk of honour and duty—it’s all a fucking lie. They’re just puppets in a rigged game, pretending to care about justice while serving their own interests. Fucking hypocrites, all of them. And that’s when I snapped. I decided that nobody else understood what justice really meant, and I was going to have to place that load on my shoulders. Everything I do is for justice. Not to make people smile, not to make them happy. I do it for justice.

“Every time I see a police officer making an arrest, it disgusts me. It’s an absolute travesty of justice seeing them carry out those duties in the name of ‘upholding the law’. Really? Are you fucking kidding me? They, master purveyors of injustice, acting all holy and self-righteous? Bullshit! I don’t spare them! I don’t spare them at all! I’ve slain ten of them – Isaac was the first to get smacked – and I’ll make sure more of them fall! Along with all the other criminals haunting this city. That’s what justice is all about: dealing with the wicked and the hypocrites. Ruthlessly. With no fear or favour.

“And really, I don’t give a fuck about the citizens whining and talking about, oh, Doomblade’s too wicked, Doomblade’s gone too far… they can fuck right off! They don’t know shit about justice! They think their beloved policemen and women are the standard, and I’m just some good guy gone bad. A bunch of small-minded fools, that’s what they are! I’m gonna do what’s right for this city, whether they like it or not! And they dare not fight me, coz to fight me is to fight justice, and let me tell you this: justice will always prevail. No matter what.”

Denar swallowed hard, struggling to find the words as he nodded slowly. “I… I guess I understand now. You’ve been through a lot. And you’ve seen a lot.”

Doomblade didn’t respond, simply nodding while staring down at him.

He trembled. On one hand, he was proper traumatized by what he had just heard: this profane show of injustice. Considering how Nadine had already commented on Isaac’s creepy attitude and his attempt to move to her, this did not sound ludicrous. And if the leadership had truly carried this out, it was a true insult to justice. At that moment, he felt sorry for Doomblade.

And for a second or two… even understood why he had gone off the deep end.

But then, the task was still at hand. And once he walked out that door, innocent people he knew were going to die. This man had not allowed tragedy to mould him into seeking justice the right way; it had turned him into the very monster he despised. Pity wouldn’t stop him from continuing this insane rampage; his words made it very obvious.

It was time to fit the codeword in there and bring him to book.

Denar hesitated, thinking fast, then asked. “Umm, but… do you think… do you think Esi would have wanted this, though? For you to carry all this anger under the shadow of her memory?”

The codeword was ‘shadow’. A slightly clunky use of the word, but it didn’t matter: the team would immediately get the memo and close in.

Doomblade froze, his breath stopped.

For a brief moment, Denar thought he might have pushed too far.

He watched Doomblade silently.

His hands slowly clenched into fists, and his eyes narrowed, flames of fury suddenly lighting up within them.

Denar’s pulse instantly quickened with panic.

Oh, crap. I provoked the beast. Please come in quickly, team, please come in…

His anger flared, raw and consuming, as he stepped menacingly toward Denar. “Don’t you dare ask me that question!” he growled, his voice dripping with venom. “You don’t get to ask me that! Nobody does!”

Denar tracked back, terror rising to the top of his throat.

Doomblade looked genuinely pissed by that question, and seemed ready to smack him into eternity.

He grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.

Terror overtook every part of his being.

“No! Please! I’m sorry, please–“

The doors of the shack suddenly went flat with a thunderous crash. As splinters flew everywhere, a squad of heavily armed officers stormed in, their weapons trained on Doomblade. Their voices boomed in unison.

“Doomblade! Drop your weapon and put your hands in the air! Now!”

“Step away from the hostage! Get on your knees!”

“No sudden moves, or we will open fire!”

“Let go of the young man! Now!”

The vigilante spun around, letting go of Denar, his fury erupting like a volcano. If he was annoyed by the question, he was even more livid now. To think that he had been lured into this trap! This was the second time he was slipping up, and he despised it to the uttermost.

“You trapped me?” he roared, his rage directed at the young man before him. “You fucking bastard!”

In a blur of motion, he reached into his belt and pulled out a razor-sharp ninja star. With precision that defied belief, he hurled it straight at Denar.

“DUCK, TEYE!”

In a rush of fright and sharpness, moving before the order was roared at him, Denar dove to the floor quickly, missing the deadly star as it embedded itself in the wall behind him with a metallic thud.

Before it landed on the wall, the room erupted in chaos.

Gunfire filled the air, deafening and relentless.

Doomblade lunged toward the nearest officer, but the sheer onslaught of bullets from every angle was too much to fight. His body jerked violently with each impact, blood spraying across the room as he staggered backward.

Every single armed officer had their trigger fingers working, loading him with every bullet from every angle possible.

“KEEP YOUR AIM ON THE TARGET! WATCH TEYE! DO NOT HURT HIM!”

Denar screamed in fright as he curled up on the floor, trembling violently while he covered his head, praying to God no bullet would hit him.

It was a tense couple of seconds, with every officer ensuring they emptied their magazine on the scourge that had tormented the city.

Finally, Doomblade collapsed to the ground, his lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling.

The room fell silent, save for Denar’s loud and sharp breathing. His face pale as a sheet, he kept his eyes closed despite the silence.

Lifting his free hand, Captain Adjei moved forward slowly, with his gun still trained on Doomblade’s motionless body, his eyes scanning for any sign of life. They might have riddled him with six months’ worth of bullets, but this was a different kind of beast. They had to be sure.

He nudged Doomblade with his boot, checking for any reaction. There was none.

He then knelt, feeling for a pulse at the neck.

Nothing.

Assured that Doomblade was indeed neutralized, Captain Adjei stood up, holstering his weapon.

“He’s down,” he announced. “No movement.”

The team let out a collective breath of relief.

Captain Adjei turned his attention to Denar, who was still curled up on the floor, his body shaking with fear.

“Son, it’s all over. He’s been neutralized now.” He then extended a hand to Denar. “You did good. You did real good.”

Denar opened his eyes slowly, his gaze meeting the captain’s. He took the offered hand and allowed himself to be pulled up to his feet. Fright had virtually stripped him of all energy, as he leaned on the captain for support. “Oh, thank God… I… I thought I was done for,” Denar stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I was gonna die.”

“You didn’t, though, son, and we’re glad about that. You were brave,” Captain Adjei reassured him, patting him on the shoulder. “Tonight, you helped rid this city of a menace. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

As he steadied himself, other members of the task force approached, their expressions a mix of relief and admiration. They all patted him on the back, with congratulatory words.

“You’ve got guts, young man. We’re all proud of you.”

“Thank you for your bravery and cooperation, Constable. This city owes you one.”

“You played your part perfectly, rookie. Well done.”

“Come along, son. Let’s get you outside.”

Behind him, the officers began securing the scene, their voices fading into the background as Denar, led outside the shack, stared at the stars above, the reality of the past hour fully dawning on him.

The mission had gone almost flawlessly—a feat he hadn’t dared hope for. Every move, every plan, every ounce of preparation had come together like perfectly. This was a huge win for the force and the city.

Yet, beneath his relief, there lingered a heavy ache—a gnawing sense of conflict.

That story Doomblade told him. It was a tale of anger against an unfortunate injustice; one that was revolting and heartbreaking. Doomblade’s reprehensible vendetta had claimed lives and brought the city to its knees, but it had also been fueled by a fire too human to ignore.

For a moment, Denar could not help but grieve that side of Doomblade. The Dean Beresford boy, one who was understandably broken over a young lady’s death and was rightfully upset with the system that let her down for its selfish interests.

For now, though, the relief of knowing Doomblade’s reign had ended overshadowed his unease. The monster was gone, and the city could begin to heal. There was a need to address this rot that had created this monster, but for now, he could breathe a sigh of relief. The clouds of fear had officially been lifted off Sima Hills.

The tyrant was gone. Now everybody could breathe again.

Wow, truly heart-stopping stuff. From a tragic backstory to the force finally taking down Doomblade. Intense. The man was a little more layered than we thought, but it’s still a good thing he’s down. Time for the story to end…