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Chapter 10
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As to that, I have a long tale as to why I was held up. My story begins around eleven a.m., about five minutes after I got off the phone with Wyatt. I was in the downtown Steel Canyon area on other business that had been concluded for the day when I placed the call, and I was walking to where I usually catch a taxi.

Walter strolled across the round walkway where countless other people walked. He stopped, and some people screamed, when a van pulled up behind him with a screech.

Two men in ski masks hopped out while the third stayed behind the wheel. Walter saw what was happening, and he let his cane turn from a simple walking stick to a single baton for warding off his attackers. He hadn’t brought his firearm, and still didn’t think he would have needed it.

He swung and twirled the cane about, and dodged around the two men whenever they tried to attack him. All he needed was another hit or two, and just one of them was going down. But then, something stung him in the back of the neck. Walter reached for the tiny projectile that hit him while his consciousness started to slip away.

Both men tackled him, and the world went dark.

When it came to tying people to chairs, there were two classes of people. One that actually learned the ropes, so to speak, and knew how to face their victim toward the back of the chair with both the arms and legs secured.

Then there were Hollywood types, blind followers, and morons who only tied one pair of limbs while seating the victim forward. Walter decided to count this one a blessing when he awoke, because that meant less work in escaping when he was ready.

“Hey, man, he’s waking up,” said one of the three captors.

Coming to, I decided at first that the best course of action would be to fish my captors for information. Little did I know that this wouldn’t take long if I wanted it to.

“For a banker, you sure can put up a fight,” said the first man.

Walter said, “I’m not a banker.”

“We’re not stupid, you know,” said the second man.

“Yeah, man,” started the third, “why else would anyone walk through Steel Canyon’s central plaza wearing a suit and standing tall like you do?”

Resisting a grimace, Walter said, “Plenty of people do that.”

“Besides, we were told that the banker we’re looking for would be crossing the plaza when you did.”

“Told by whom, exactly?”

The first man said, “Whoa, this guy says ‘whom!’ He has to be some kind of genius.”

“He’s a banker,” said the second man, “Of course he’s going to use words we don’t understand.”

“Dear, oh dear. I’m afraid this isn’t getting us anywhere. What would you need to abduct a banker for anyhow?”

“Because, man, you can help us out. We got this crazy parking ticket and we want to turn it in for something better. Like, you know, the next big game at Reynolds Stadium.”

“The next big game, you say?” Walter’s voice and demeanor leaned on the incredulous.

One of the gentlemen—at this point, it no longer mattered who to Walter—responded, “Yeah, an upgrade. For the price of parking in this city, the three of us can score great seats. You can hook us up, right, or was it that we were going to ransom him for the cash?”

“Do you want to know something?” asked Walter. He budged his bound arms up against the backside of the chair, and lifted his legs. “No. I sat here trying to be accommodating, but I’m out. Here I was; curious as to what you were up to, and yet I would rather interrogate a lawn while I’ve gone without sleep for a few days. No, thank you! You boys will need to carry on this farce without me.”

Walter managed to climb out of the chair, and continued to storm toward a work table with some tools on it. He ignored the stunned faces staring at him while Walter patted the table with his hands behind his back. He grabbed a tool that looked sharp enough to undo the rope around his wrists, and walked toward the door.

“Hey, wait, what about our tickets?” asked one man.

“Frankly, boys,” said Walter, “you should count yourselves lucky that you haven’t been shot. Do the world a favor and join the damn workforce. Also, don’t reproduce. Ever.”

Once on the other side, Walter closed the door and spotted the keys hanging from the knob. He gave the knob a jiggle without turning the key too hard. Something told him that actually locking the door wouldn't be necessary.

He said, “I’ll be back in a few hours to unlock the door. Until then, I suggest you gentlemen think long and hard about where you went wrong. It might do you some good.”

Walter turned toward the exit. It was a short stairway of concrete steps leading up into a day-lit world. He barely made a few steps outside when Walter ran into a young woman, and it took him a moment to realize that she had been running toward the building that he had come out of.

“Oh, it’s you,” said the young woman, regaining the balance and composure she lost during their collision. “How did you break loose? No, that’s not important. I’m glad you’re safe. My father and I need your help.”

“And who might you be?” asked Walter.

“My name’s Gemma. My father owns a local security company, and he needs help with the loan on our business. It’s come under fire by neighboring mafia families, and we’re hoping we can at least reason with you so that we can keep working.”

“Who do you think I am?”

“You’re the banker, aren’t you? You’re wearing a suit, and you walked out of that same bank branch. Who else could you be?”

“Not a banker at all, actually. In fact, I don’t normally do business with that bank. Today’s just been full of surprises, hasn’t it?”

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry. If you’re not the banker in charge of that place, then I guess I should find him now.”

Gemma curtsied and turned away from Walter, allowing him a better look at the large sniper rifle strapped to her back. She was walking away when Walter’s conscience kicked itself and forced him to call out to her.

“Wait. You said something about neighboring mafia families?”

“It’s nothing. Really. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“Mafia families are hardly ever nothing, Miss Gemma. If it’s anything I can handle, I’d be happy to help.”

“What are you? Some kind of hero?”

“Something like that. The name’s Walter Dallevan. Maybe you’ve heard of me, or the supergroup I run.”

“I can’t say I have.”

Her answer stunned him. It took him a moment to find his next words. “That’s unfortunate, because we’ve done so much good over the years. No matter, no matter. If you need help, then I’d be happy to oblige far more than any banker you’ll meet. I just have one question before I do. What’s with the rifle?”

Gemma twisted her shoulder forward to get a better look at the gun on her back. “What, this? It’s how I tranquilize targets from a distance.”

“And no one’s tried to stop you from carrying it around town?”

“Strangely no. I’ve been toting this rifle around for a couple months now, and no one has even asked me about it until now. I’m a pretty good shot with it, too.”

“So were you aiming for me earlier?”

“What? Oh no. I was aiming for the other men you were fighting, but you were moving around so much. I thought I had a good shot, but you jumped in the path of that dart at the last possible second.”

“You could have gone for the driver.”

Walter noted the deer-in-the-headlights look on Gemma’s face. The thought apparently hadn’t crossed her mind, however obvious, until he pointed it out. Her lip twitched. Walter walked to her, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s OK,” he said. “We all make mistakes. Consider yourself lucky that no one was harmed, and learn from it. Now, shall we get going?”

“Yes, let’s go. We can start by meeting my father, or anyone else if you like.”

“Let’s first go back to where I was abducted. I’m going to need something from there. Then, we can meet with your father. Come along.”

I took note of the brick building I’d come out of, and its address, as the two of us departed. I was lucky to find my walking stick in one piece where I had left it, and doubly so to find an officer nearby. I told the officer where to find those three men. Then Gemma and I were off to meet her father. Fine fellow, trusting, and let us in with hardly any wait.

“Ah, Gemma, my principessa,” he said as they entered his office that was located in a laundromat basement. “I see you have brought a banker. Where’s the other one?”

“Not a banker, I’m afraid,” said Walter. “The name is Walter Dallevan. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Dallevan, Dallevan. Circus ringmaster, wasn’t it?”

“Close, actually. I run a supergroup full of heroes, and am in the business of helping anyone I can. I understand you are having trouble involving your own business?”

“It’s true. I have been receiving notices from mob families, many of which I’ve never seen or heard of before in my life. They’ve been telling me this neighborhood is taken. Half of them claim to be the ones protecting it.”

Walter said, “I see. I take it this neighborhood doesn’t receive much attention from actual law authorities these days, then?”

“Not unless you count the heroes who show up just to beat up villains or random gang members to a bloody pulp. Then, to top it all off, the bank we were trusting with our business has been making it progressively more difficult to get the loan and proper paperwork needed for a headquarters in our own building. It’s hard running a security company from a basement of any kind, let alone somewhere as hot and noisy as the shop upstairs.”

“That could mean a number of things. I can check it out and solve most of those things in a day, of course.”

“For how much?” the gentleman asked.

“How much?!”

“Mr. Dallevan, my family isn’t so well-off since my father came here from Italy. The most valuable thing we have is a family heirloom we can never lose like we did its sister some years ago. I was lucky to rent this room from one of his close friends. But, if you can help me, I can pay you anything if it’s within reason.”

“A fine notion, I can assure you, but that won’t be necessary. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to see about the bank trouble. It was a pleasure, Gemma, and to you as well . . . I’m sorry. I forgot to ask your name.”

“It’s Emilio Batticelli. Wait, Gemma?”

Gemma, who had set down her rifle during the short conversation, was strapping it back over her shoulder and walking to Walter.

“What?” she asked. “You said you can help us, and I’m going to join you.”

Walter said, “They will probably confiscate your weapon when we get there.”

“I’ll let you know then if I care. Let’s go.”

Being as unable to turn down help as I am whenever it’s offered, I led my traveling companion to the Damascus National Bank in Steel Canyon. Gemma pouted when the security asked her to leave her sniper rifle with them, but she relented and walked with me to the elevator.

He used the bottom of his cane to press the elevator button after one guard turned the key on the same panel. Walter walked in, and Gemma followed.

“You only brought the cane to press buttons, didn’t you?” Gemma asked.

Walter said, “Just the one.”

“I hate you.”

The door closed.

Moments later, they entered the top floor of the bank’s main offices and walked toward the back. The security flagged them down to stop them, but Walter opened the doors anyway and let himself in.

“What is the meaning of this?” asked the man behind the desk. He was not alone, between two larger gentleman and a skinny one. “It’s you!”

“Hello, Mr. Fierro,” Walter said without skipping a beat, “I’ve come to have an urgent word with you. Yes, yes, I know I was here earlier to settle a nasty sort of business downstairs, but this is new business.” He pressed the tip of his cane against one larger man’s nose before the man could get up from his rather comfortable seat. “And you will find that I do not take new business lightly, especially when it involves visiting the same place twice in one day.”

Mr. Fierro looked over at his secretary and nodded. “You can leave us. Now, Dallevan, wasn’t it? What do I owe the honor?”

“I’m here because there appears to be a misunderstanding regarding a man and his new business – a security company.”

“A security company? What does that have to do with me?”

“I’m talking about the legitimate business that moved in on these gentlemen’s turf, and how I overheard a reference to their boss sending his associates to pay you a visit at this hour when I was tending to the matter downstairs. You can thank one of the men guarding the door.”

Gemma said, “Wait, seriously?”

“Normally I’m not one to deal directly with mafia affairs here in the main of Paragon City. Much too droll for my tastes, you see, but when it steps in the way of my own business, you can be sure of the consequences.”

“Is that a threat?” asked one of the men around the room.

“It’s a statement, one that needs to be made clear. Competition is good for business, you know. If your game is one of protection, then let the Batticelli family operate under your radar, or I will loose every legal loophole to take you down. If that’s not enough, I know plenty of heroes and villains alike who would be happy to give another mob family the boot. Do I make myself clear?”

The two mobsters not pinned down by Walter’s cane were now standing and pointing their guns at him. The third one reached for his, but Walter pressed his cane harder into the man’s nose.

He sighed. Why did the muscle of any organization always choose to do things the hard way?

With a quick jab of his cane into the first man’s face, Walter dove below waist level and swung his cane up at the hand of the second. He followed it up by bringing the cane down on the man’s shoulder and swinging down to sweep it behind the man’s knees.

Walter readied himself for the third man, becoming increasingly aware that the first was getting up already. He danced a fencer’s dance with his cane while trying to avoid being shot by anyone’s gun. Therefore, disarming all three men took precedent over trying to knock out all three at the same time.

However, a piercing bang sounded and something bit him in the neck. Walter looked back at Gemma before blacking out and hearing a second bang.

Light returned, paired with an aftertaste of burnt sugar and hops beer. Next came the headache, followed by a few spinning shapes that refused to settle down for a moment. His hearing was too impaired to hear a woman’s voice clearly. Strangely, the lights flashed all over and around.

Most of the effects passed after a minute, and Walter was finally able to see Gemma crouching beside him. They were outside, and it was night.

“What happened?” Walter asked.

Gemma said, “You may or may not have gotten in the way of another of my darts.” She looked sheepish and pulled up one of her sleeves to reveal a long wristband made from plastic and ceramics.

“Gemma, do me a favor if you’re going to keep carrying weapons around of any kind. Work on your timing.” He struggled with himself to sit up, and won. “Better yet, try aiming for the bad guys not standing next to me.”

“I got one of them at least. If this thing could shoot more rounds, I would have gotten more of them, but they didn’t know that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I held them at gunpoint, basically, and had them tie themselves up inside that office before I left and called the police. You missed the three mobsters being taken away, as well as one of the security guards.”

“Probably recognized by the officers who came. Good job. What about Mr. Fierro?”

“I tied him up separately, but still somewhere the police could find or question him. I didn’t want any of them getting bright ideas about escaping before the police arrived. When I came back down to claim my rifle, the other security guard was patrolling the building. It’s a good thing you talk in your sleep, because the guard who was there thought you were just out of your mind.”

“It sounds like Fierro and the second guard got away,” Walter said, considering the habits he knew of the bank manager. “That’s sure to raise suspicion at least, but this has become a mess. I think it might be safer to go with another bank, or a credit union, for your father’s business.”

“The process takes so long, though,” Gemma said

“Oh, I think I can pull a few strings. You and your father will be able to watch over your clientele in just a few days.”

“Yes!”

“But! I want you to promise me you’ll do something about your habit of carrying weapons. More than that I want you to promise me that you won’t become like the mob families out there.”

“I promise.”

“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to grab some food and drink to wash this bad taste out of my mouth. Until we meet again, Gemma.”

***

“And that’s what took me so long to get here,” said Walter to his audience. “Why, what have you all been up to while I was away?”

He was certain that the young woman cloaked entirely with a single bed sheet, and sitting closest to Mary, was Jackie. But the makeshift hood came down as the mystery woman leaned even closer Maryann, revealing a more Asian look to her features. Her familiarity struck Walter like a train.

“He hasn’t exactly changed much, has he?” asked Judy.

Walter just let his open jaw hang like it was while he stared in disbelief.

***

Somewhere in Paragon...

A pair of officers sat, watching a closed, unlocked door while three men behind it argued about the same thing for the fourth time in the last couple of hours.

One officer tipped over the bag of potato chips in his hand, and his partner grabbed a few of the crisps.