Mickey Steele

MICKEY STEELE


The night was cold and wet from the rain on the downtown streets of Dolan City. These particular streets were normally deserted on nights like these but this night had an exception. On the corner of Monroe and First Street laid the body of Mickey Steele. The rain had spread his bright crimson blood down the sidewalk and soaked his body through his trench coat. A broad brimmed hat and a revolver lay next to him amongst thousands of pieces of shattered glass. His body laid face down and his arms and legs were twisted and contorted at random angles. A blank stare was fixed on his face with the exception of a grin. The people who later found his body never understood why he smiled in his last moment before death took him, but then again people never understood him when he was alive either.
Mickey Steele was a dark and mysterious man throughout his career as a private detective. He had few friends and no family to speak of. He always meet his clients in secret locations, never revealing where his office or apartment was. It was probably why he was so good at what he did. You see, Dolan City was a big place with a lot of criminals. The way Mickey saw it; there were two classes of criminals. There were the ‘Average Joes’ or in other words the typical criminal whom broke the law for typical reasons. The Dolan Police Department always had their hands full dealing with them. Then there were the ‘Crazies’. The psychotic, demented, irrational or whatever the case may be, this was where Mickey made his reputation. He was the best when it came to finding and stopping the ‘Crazies’. Even better than the D.P.D. who hired Mickey themselves on many occasions. After twenty-two years of stopping the city’s most insane criminals, Mickey retired.
The date was 1934 February 6, two years into his retirement, when Mickey was forced to take one last case. Ever sense he retired he had horrible nightmares. For the past week or so the nightmares had become worse and his memory of recent events became a blur. He contributed it to a combination of old age and his involvement with the darkest side of the city for so long. He swore to himself that he would never again get involved with Dolan’s criminals. That is until he received some disturbing news.
The afternoon of the sixth of February he read in the newspaper that there was a mad man killing people in their homes. Not just any people though. They were all people he knew. Friends he had made during his career. The police were unable to establish a connection between the murders but Mickey already knew what the connection was.
It was him.
Someone was trying to draw him out of hiding, probably an old adversary bent on revenge. Whoever it was knew Mickey well enough to know who his friends were and where they were at. If they were trying to find him, they were about to get there wish. He quickly threw on his dark trench coat and his favorite black hat. Underneath his coat he carried two revolvers on slings and a pack of cigarettes in his pocket.
The first place he went was his old partner’s apartment. He and Walter Vincent had worked closely together a long time. If there was anyone who would know more about what was going on it was him. When he got to the apartment, however, it was wrecked. Overturned furniture, broken appliances on the floor, and bullet holes all throughout the apartment were all Mickey could find there. What he didn’t find was blood or any trace that someone had been killed. He knew that the killer he was looking for must have made an attempt on Walter’s life but he must have escaped. Mickey knew where his old partner would hide in a time like this, the old abandoned toy factory. They had used the place as a secret headquarters on multiple occasions. He and Walter were the only two that knew about it. He was bound to find him there.
It was dark out when he finally parked near the intersection of Monroe and First Street, darker than usual. The moon and stars were blocked by a thick overcast of storm clouds. The only light came from the street lamps and many of those had died out years ago. Mickey Steele paused in front of the old toy factory door, long enough to light his cigarette.
The creaking sound of the door echoed in the large four story building as he entered. Some of the lights that hung from the ceiling were turned on already, someone was here. The hanging lamps produced only enough dim light to give the room and the few objects in it silhouette shapes. Old desks and chairs in the room still lacked detail and they caste deep shadows throughout the room.
He slowly walked to the metal spiral stairs in the back. Each footstep echoed in the warehouse breaking the stillness of the place each time. Mickey was on edge. There was something about the place that didn’t sit right with him. He remained cautious walking methodically till he reached the stairs. The first floor had been where the main office was when the business was still running. The second and third floors were the production rooms which still had most of the toy making machinery in them.
When he reached the second floor fear swelled in the pit of his stomach making him more nervous. There were many dark shadows all around the room created by the many abandoned machines. His imagination was getting the best of him thinking someone could be hiding around any corner or the nearest shadow. He was halfway across the room when he saw movement in the corner of his eye followed by the sound of a loud metal clash. His revolvers were in his hands instantly and pointed in the direction of the noise.
“Walter?” He asked into the darkness but received no reply. He stepped a little closer to see the perpetrator.
A bird flew out from the shadow and through a hole in a window into the night. Thunder rumbled outside as a light drizzle of rain began to tap against the glass. Mickey relaxed a bit and continued his search in the room. He didn’t understand why he was feeling the way he did, after all the only one he expected to be here was his old partner.
After climbing the second set of stairs he found himself on the third floor which was very similar to the second. A hanging light fixture at the far end of the room was methodically swaying back and forth. Now he was sure of it.
Someone or something was in here with him.
He placed one of his hands in his trench coat and clasped one of his revolvers. He walked slowly and quietly toward the swinging light daring himself to speak into the eerie silence.
“Walter,” he said barely above a whisper, “it’s me, Mickey.”
His only response came in the sound of a metallic ‘click’ about thirty feet behind him. It was an unmistakable sound he was all too familiar with, the sound of a pistol being cocked. He had no time to turn around and see who it was, so he ran to a nearby conveyer belt for cover. Immediately gun shots rang out rapidly, ricocheting bullets off of everything around him. He slid behind the conveyer belt and kicked it over just in time to stop a barrage of bullets from hitting him. He spat his cigarette out and waited for the right moment. When he heard the click of his assailant’s gun dry fire he popped up over his barricade and returned fire. The sound of his two revolvers pounding out lead thundered throughout the factory. The mysterious attacker retreated between several machines into the darkness. Mickey held his fire and peered between the two smoking barrels of his guns. He quickly reloaded and cautiously pursued his attacker.
As Mickey silently slipped from one machine to the other he couldn’t help but ponder his assailant’s identity. Walter must be dead, he was sure of that now but how did the killer know Mickey would come here. None of this was making sense to him. He refocused his efforts on stopping this villain before anyone else fell victim to him.
He heard a noise and slowly peeked around the side of a large cylinder drum. As he did a bullet ricocheted off the metal drum next to his head. He quickly jerked back and pulled out a small mirror from his coat pocket. The mirror had a small rod attached to it and he extended it around the side of the drum. This allowed him to see around the corner without having to expose his body. He saw the killer with a pistol pointed in his direction. Even though the room was dark, Mickey recognized the killer’s face. It was Lucas Cain.
Lucas Cain was a master mind and a psycho that Mickey had put in Dolan’s Insane Asylum early in his career. The problem with seeing him here was that Lucas had died in the Asylum some years ago. Mickey attended the funeral personally and witnessed the corpse himself.
“Impossible!” Mickey gasped unable to fully grasp what he was seeing.
The mirror shattered by another gunshot from Lucas but Mickey had seen enough. He ran out from cover blasting at Lucas with his powerful revolvers. Lucas barely avoided being hit as he ran bent low, wildly returning fire. Parts of machinery were being blown off and destroyed by the two gun fighters. Lucas retreated again barely escaping with his life as he bolted for the stairs. When Lucas reached the stairs Mickey had to reload. Lucas made it to the fourth floor before Mickey could get another shot on him.
Mickey wasn’t overly concerned. He knew that on the fourth floor Lucas would have nowhere left to run. He was, however, more confused than before by his attacker’s identity. It left him with more questions than answers. Something still wasn’t right with the whole situation. He needed to know what was going on. He needed to make Lucas talk.
Mickey quickly pursued Lucas up to the fourth floor, the storage room of the old toy factory. The room was filled with rows of shelves and at the end of the room was a large arched window that overlooked the city. Most of the shelves still had abandoned toys on their racks. The low light combined with the hundreds of old dusty teddy bears and the like with their blank button eyed stare gave him the chills. He started to walk into the room but stopped abruptly. Lucas could be hiding anywhere. He knew that he would need a plan to draw Lucas out in order to have the upper hand.
Lucas Cain waited behind a shelf in the middle of the room for Mickey but he never came. He was becoming impatient wondering if his prey would fall into his trap. Suddenly he heard a loud crash at one of the far walls. Lucas drew near to it hoping to find Mickey unprepared but instead found a large pile of teddy bears next to a very tall fallen shelf. He knew that the fallen shelf had to be a distraction and whipped around trying to find Mickey. Then something dawned on him. Maybe that’s what Mickey wanted him to think. He looked again at the pile of toys and saw a partially buried black hat, Mickey’s hat. He understood the ploy now. Mickey buried himself under the pile of toys waiting for him to investigate it. Then Mickey would have the drop on him. Lucas stepped out from hiding and shot the pile of toys repeatedly. When the smoke cleared from his barrel he noticed that there was nothing in the pile but Mickey’s hat. A shot rang out from elsewhere in the room, and then Lucas collapsed.
Mickey stepped out of the darkness and retrieved his hat. He only shot Lucas in the shoulder. Lucas scrambled for his gun but Mickey kicked it away just before he could reach it. Lucas knew he was defeated. He pushed himself up to a sitting position, leaning against a shelf behind him. He was breathing heavy and clasped his wounded shoulder firmly. Then he looked up.
Mickey was bewildered to see the face of Walter Vincent, his partner and closest friend.
“So why did you do it,” came Walter’s raspy voice before Mickey could mutter a word, “I have to know.”
Mickey was still in shock but he managed to choke out a reply.
“But you attacked me,” he stammered, “I don’t understand.”
Walter winced from the pain in his shoulder and gritted his teeth.
“You think this is some sort of game Mickey. You tried to kill me in my apartment two days ago.”
“Impossible!” Mickey snapped angrily, “I was in my own apartment that morning and the afternoon I…” Mickey’s voice trailed off trying to recall what had happened that day. He remembered nothing. “It’s just age,” he told himself trying to rationalize his memory loss, “it has to be.”
Mickey turned his frustration on Walter and grabbed him by his shirt collar. “I know you know something about the recent murders Walter. Stop this nonsense and tell me what you know!”
“You’ve lost it Mickey.” Walter said disappointed.
Mickey turned around exasperated and more confused than he had ever been. His head was beginning to hurt worse and worse the more he struggled to remember. He leaned up against a shelf with a mirror attached to it trying to gather his thoughts.
“You want to know who’s behind the recent murders?” Walter asked bitterly. “Take a look in a mirror.”
Mickey raised his head and saw his reflection, he was horrified. His face was altered and different to look like the face of Lucas Cain. His face in reality was the same as it had always been but his many years of seeing the worst side of mankind drove his sanity to the brink of failure. What he saw was the darkness inside of him personalized in the face of one of the worst people he ever dealt with, Lucas Cain.
Mickey clenched the mirror in disbelief, slowly leaning closer as a bead of cold sweat ran down his face. Then the image started to laugh at him with the same low scowl as Lucas.
He quickly pulled out his revolver and shot the reflection. The glass shattered into hundreds of pieces but the laughing continued. He couldn’t stop himself from laughing nor did he fully realize he was pointing his gun at Walter.
“You killed them. You killed them and you tried to kill me.” Walter said reaching for a second gun hidden in his coat. “I lured you here to stop you for good.”
Mickey tried to fight the alternate personality within himself for control but he was losing. His headache turned into a migraine as he slipped into the mind of something else, something evil. The revolver shook in his hand trying not to squeeze the trigger.
Walter drew his gun and they both fired.
Walter got off only one shot. Mickey shot several times before he threw his other hand between the hammer and the firing pin to stop it from shooting. The hammer bit deep into his hand causing it to bleed over his gun and drip on the floor. The pain was only matched by the fresh bullet wound in his left thigh. He tossed the gun to the ground but he was too late to save Walter. His old partner lay dead on the floor as a pool of blood spread beneath him.
Mickey took a step back only to collapse under the sudden pain in his leg. He turned over facing a broken piece of glass on the floor with Lucas’ face staring at him.
“You belong to me now.” It said with an evil grin.
“Not if I can help it.” Mickey replied swatting the piece of glass away. He forced himself to his feet through the searing pain in his leg. He stumbled through the room toward the far wall. He understood now. A multiple personality was robbing his mind of who he was. It was turning him into the very thing he spent his whole life fighting. He had to stop it from fully taking control of him.
Mickey stumbled toward the far side of the room fighting the swelling pain in his head. He heard the voices of different ‘Crazies’ he had faced in his career screaming for control, drowning out the reality around him. He continued on, however, until he was face to face with his reflection in the large arched window that overlooked the city. Outside the rain began to fall harder pelting the glass in a dreary rhythm.
“You can’t win this time.” Lucas Cain told him through his reflection. Mickey drew his last revolver and pointed it at him. The image laughed at him and said, “You and I both know that won’t work.”
Mickey tightened his grip and stood proudly before his reflection then replied, “Like hell it won’t.”
He shot his reflection in the window six times and charged. Lucas realized then what Mickey was doing and screamed for him to stop until Mickey’s body broke through the window, shattering the image. Mickey fell the four stories to the street below on the corner of Monroe and First Street.
The rain soaked his cloths and helped spread his crimson blood down the sidewalk. His arms and legs were twisted and his hat and gun lay next to him. He reveled in his last victory of that moment when his life was escaping him. Mickey Steele had solved his last case and overcame his greatest enemy, the evil within himself. He managed to smile as he breathed his last breath. Then there was nothing.
The people of Dolan City were safer because of the tireless dedication and sacrifice of one man. One by one he struggled against the city’s worst until he had to stop himself. He finally found peace for the first time in his life face down on a lonely street corner. Nobody knew they owed that man everything. The man who gave it all, Mickey Steele.