And that was where I spent another four years of my life, doing small jobs for civilians, helping to expose secret organizations, and drinking whiskey with my pals at the McIntyre. At least, until that one day, two years ago. I was up in my office, informing the bank manager, Mr. Green, that the janitor was the perp that had stolen 200 thousand dollars from the bank. It was just after I had hung up that He walked in. I had only met him once or twice, when the CIA was at their wits end on a case. He never told anyone his name, but he went by Agent Zero, he was pretty arrogant in my opinion.
“What is it now?” I inquired.
“Have you seen the news?” he asked
“No, why?”
“Twenty deaths, all at the same time, 3:45 PM, once a day, for the past twenty days.”
“A cult?”
“No, no connections, they all died at the same building, and they were all mentally sound. Their families and coworkers report nothing abnormal about their behavior.”
“Any signs of foul play?”
“No signs of anything!”
“Not a coincidence.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Two suicides in two days at the same time, and at the same building is a big coincidence. Now twenty suicides with the same criteria. That is not a coincidence.”
He placed the folder with the details on my desk, along with my CIA badge, giving me access to the crime scene. “Give us a call,” was all he said before he left.
I looked through the reports, all died of epidural hematoma, so they all landed head first but still survived the impact long enough to die of brain damage. They all jumped off the Mark Building downtown and all landed in the same spot, on a manhole cover. No connections, and no certain history of mental depression. This case would prove to be interesting.


I called the families of the witnesses and about the deceased.


“They seemed so happy,” was the only answer I received, I would need to visit their houses later. I needed a beer, it helped me think.


When I got my beer, a new punk walked in. I knew his type, arrogant youth, who considered himself such a big shot that he felt entitled to treat everyone like dirt. He talked big game about how he could be anyone in this bar at pool.


“Care to make a bet?” I challenged.


“Sure you old geezer how’s two hundred if you aren’t chicken.”


“Deal.”


I grabbed my usual cue with the lion head engraving.


“Challenger’s go,” I stated.


He put on a swagger and broke, sinking a single solid.


“Solids for me, old man.”


He shot again, but he hit the cue ball incorrectly and sank it.


“#%$@!”


I remembered my year of physics and made some simple calculations.


“Well, old man?”


I shot with just the right amount of force, at just the right angle, allowing my cue to go around the table, sinking each and every one of my stripes into the pockets, and finally sinking the eight ball.


“You lose, punk.”


“Oh, I don’t think so,” he responded pulling out a butterfly knife.


“Really?” I asked, and before he could register what was happening, I had stole the knife from his hand, and broke his arm in thirty-six places. His scream was extremely loud, but I silenced him with a sudden kick to the head.


“Call the cops, have them pick him up at my office,” I told Mr. McIntyre before carrying the little crap back to my agency; this had been easier than last time.
Chapter Two
Visiting Hours


I was awoken by my alarm clock at six in the morning. I made some breakfast consisting of toast, and black coffee. I went through the victim reports and looked over their insurance payments, seeing if there were any correlations. Car accidents, cavity fillings, nothing to really go off. I looked for the victim who had lived closest, Ivan Romanov lived two blocks down, poor bloke, I probably saw him on my way to the pub every day or so.


I got the landlord to unlock his apartment for me; he lived alone after he filed for divorce. I searched through the house, nothing seemed out of place, no signs of struggle, nothing.


“Sir, there seems to be some blood in the sink,” the landlord pointed out.


I looked in the sink, and at the bloody toothbrush next to it.


“Looks like someone was brushing his teeth too hard. Must have gotten in trouble with his dentist.”


I had seen this plenty of times before; it was a pretty common occurrence. Someone would go to their dentist and get chewed out for not brushing enough, or flossing regularly, typically after several cavities. The toothbrush supported my theory further, along with the handful of bloody floss strands in the trash bin, and a bill on the counter proved it further.


I couldn’t find anything out of the normal, so I went on to the next victim, John Reed’s home. Nothing abnormal there, but I did notice something of a coincidence. On the calendar, it appeared that John had gone to the dentist only a day before he jumped. Humoring myself, I remembered the bill on the table in Ivan’s flat. He also jumped a day after his appointment, definitely not a coincidence, unconnected suicides both a day they went to the same dentist were not typically coincidental.


I checked the victims’ bank records and payments; sure enough they had all gone to one, Dr. Hassel, the day before they jumped. They all got fillings for cavities, which explained the bloody floss at Ivan’s apartment, and so, with the possible lead, I went home for the night, I had an appointment in the morning.


As I crawled into my bed, the phone rang, it was Zero.
“There’s been another death.”
“Who was it?”
“Amelia Rivera, know her?”


My heart stopped, Amelia was dead. She was my best friend, and she was dead. We had met in high school, during a darker time of my life. I picked fights, and got bullied because they were intimidated by me. One day, my biggest enemy, Geoffrey, came up to me as I was unlocking my bike for the ride home. He was armed with a wooden plank, and though I could have beaten him easily, he used a cowardly tactic of trying to sneak up on me. Amelia saw him walking up to with the plank and yelled for me to turn around. I saw him in the reflection on my bike frame. With the speed of a bullet, I snapped to the side, just as he swung. I made a spinning high kick to his chest, knocking him a good three feet back. Though it probably hurt like a wasp stinging the inside of his lung, it only made him angrier. He got back up, and time seemed to turn to a trickle as he pulled out a jack-knife. I thought to myself, “Time to stop this. Permanently.”


He ran at me, knife raised life a barbarian about to commit murder. He swung, and he nearly got me, if he had, the blade would have gone straight through my windpipe. He was intent on killing me, a bloodlust filled his mind. It made him much stronger, but it also made him much stronger, empowered by his rage… But it wasn’t enough. He swung again, but this time I ducked and struck upwards with a powerful blow, which broke his wrist, and disarmed him at the same time. I then rolled under him, and brought my knee directly into his lower back. It was a vulnerable part of the body and I created a strike all my own to temporarily paralyze my opponent using this Achilles heel.


“And don’t you ever pick a fight with me again, I could kill you, in much less time than this took, so just you remember that.”


Those were the words I whispered in his ear, before getting up and walking over to Amelia.


“Thanks for the warning.”


“No problem, nice moves, I’ve never seen anyone move, and strike so quickly.”


“By the way, what’s your name?”


“Amelia, and you?”


“Jasper.”


“See you around.”


“You too.”


We spent the rest of our high school years as best friends, I helped her with her homework, and she watched my back. We were challenged each other, but most of all, she appreciated me for who I was, not for my gift. We both went to the same college, and there, things began to change. Maybe we had grown up or something, but we began to get even closer. We dated every year of college, she often joked about getting hitched, and I would sometimes agree. We were happy together, at least until I graduated, and the CIA made me drop off the map. I was never allowed to interact with anyone from my previous life, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t check on her. Last time I saw her, she was married to another student who graduated with us, Ruby. They were happy together, living in their little house on Park Avenue, with their adopted daughter, Rachel.


But now Zero had just told me that some psychotic murderer had gotten her to jump to her death.


“She was the only one I had left to care about,” I answered, before hanging up. I rescheduled my appointment with Dr. Hassel, to about one hour after Zero called me.

“See you later Holly,” Hassel yelled before leaving his office. It had been a long day, but it was about to get even longer.


As he left, I walked up from behind and knocked him out with a well place pistol whip to the temple. Sure this wasn’t entirely legal, but what would you have expected I would have done? Ask him to come with me so I could interrogate him? Either way, what was done was done; I brought his unconscious body to a warehouse that hadn’t been used in twenty years. I strapped him to a chair, and then sat across from him.


It took about another twenty minutes for him to wake up, but when he did, the look on his face was priceless.


“Look, whatever you want, just tell me, I can get it for you.”


“I don’t want anything, I just want to know how you got all those people killed.”


“Wh-what are you talking about?”


“Come on, Hassel, I know you did something to those people, to get them to jump. You would have gotten away with it, but then you went, and killed the last person I cared about. I’m not the kind of guy who you want to make angry, I’m the guy who will not hesitate to kill you or anyone you love in order to avenge her. I just want to know. What. You. Did.”


“I-I didn’t do anything,” This was followed by me smashing his head into the table.


“That was just a warm up, Mr. Hassel. Have you ever heard of the Eastern Asian Bamboo Torture? No? Well, I take sharpened bamboo, and hammer it under your fingernails. It’s only happened to me once before, but the pain was overwhelming. If you don’t tell me the truth, I will do this to each finger, and every toe that you have. If that doesn’t work, well, I have access to a waterboarding facility. So cough it up, scumbag!”


“Maybe it was just a coincidence!”
-Gore here, avoid if you have a weak stomach-


“There are no coincidences, Mr. Hassel! And that qualifies as a lie!”


I pulled forty sharpened pieces of bamboo out of my briefcase along with tongs, and a hammer. I lined the first piece of bamboo up with his ring finger.


“Hope your wife doesn’t mind a bloody ring.”


I swung the hammer back, and with a sickening *THWACK* the bamboo shard was driven into his finger. Hassel hollered in pain, like an animal trapped in a pit.


“Enough! Enough! I’ll tell you what you want to know!”


At hearing this, I pulled the shard out, “Well?”
-Gore Ends-


“I was told by this man, he called himself Ian Moone, he offered me this cheaper metal, said it was just as good as the stuff I was already using. I bought it from him, and I started using it the day before the first suicide. I didn’t know cause people to jump off buildings like lemmings!”


“Mr. Hassel, while I believe you are not guilty of murder, that you are a pawn in a larger game, I believe that you are guilty of criminally negligent manslaughter. This would commonly result in a very harsh criminal record, along with, about, eight years in prison. However, I may be able to reduce the sentence, if you are able to assist in the arrest of this, Ian Moone.”


“H-he gave me his card, for when I ran out of that stuff he gave me.”


“Can I see it?”


“O-of course.”


The plain, manila card, was decorated very simply, with the name Ian Moone, and an address for Sw 59th Street. As I touched the card, something concerning happened. As I looked into the card’s history, I saw someone write something, the words, “I’m waiting, Jasper,” before the words were erased. Whoever this Ian Moone was, he knew me, and he knew about my gift.


I released Dr. Hassel back to his home, and warned him that he should leave. If Ian was going to kill me, he would probably want to clean up any loose ends. I also warned him not to use those caps he had bought, as they somehow caused suicidal activities. I also had one sent to the labs to be analyzed, and then I left, off to face an unknown enemy.

I arrived at another large warehouse. The front door was open, and there was a light on inside. I was expected. I entered to find a desk, with a shadowed figure sitting at it.


“Hello, Jasper.”


“Hello… Zero.” I had come to this conclusion while I was driving. Zero had always bothered me, something about him. He always seemed somehow involved in any major case of mine, and he always seemed to disappear with ease. It wasn’t a far leap from the name Ian Moone, to Zero. Ian Moone, was after all, an acronym for, I am no one.


“So you figured it out, well done, sir!”


“Look you insignificant little scumbag! You killed the last person I truly cared about, and you of all people should know what happens when I get angry! Here’s what I’m going to do! I’m going to slowly remove each of your fingernails, and then I will remove your eyes, one at a time! Then I am going to slow roast you over the hottest flames, ‘cause, if you’re going to burn in the deepest pits of hell, you may as well burn on earth!”


“You know, Jasper, I never liked you. You were always the one that got recognized for your work. You were always so smart, but you were never able to figure it out, were you?”


“Figure what out?”


“That I was always one step ahead. All those assassins were mine. I knew they would fail, but it would certainly throw you off my tail. After all, I didn’t even have to lift a finger. You see, you aren’t the only one with special abilities. Once there were many of us, but we were discovered, and tested on. They used us to win wars, and now it’s only the two of us. Yes Jasper, I have powers too. I’m what you might call, Metallo Kinetic. I can control various elements with my mind. So far I can only manipulate tin, copper, and anything with at least a five percent metallum presence. That is how I got all those people to kill themselves. The caps slowly infected the blood stream with the elements, and then I gained complete control.


“You son of a $#%@! I’ll kill you!”


“Tut, tut, tut. After all these years, you still can’t control your anger. Such a waste of talent. Anyway, it doesn’t matter; you’re still going to die. You see, this entire building is made entirely of metallum, so, by coming here, you have entered my domain. Now die!”


The entirety of the building began to shake. The walls seemed to liquidate, before stretching to fine points that were shot directly at me. I may have been a black belt in every martial art known to mankind, but these tendrils were faster than I could have ever anticipated, but then again, death by living metal was pretty low on my list of expected deaths. I ducked and weaved, slowly inching my way to the exit.


“Leaving so soon?” Zero inquired.


The door melted and the hole sealed itself. If I was going to survive, I had to get him to fight me one-on-one. That meant I had to make him angry, really, really angry.


“Zero, or whatever your name is, come out and fight me you unruly swine!”


“But I am fighting you, Jasper, with my own abilities.”


I remembered that he always had an overpowering urge to exceed. “The boss always l thought that I was the best. I showed you up. I was better because I didn’t fear death.”


“I-I don’t fear anything. I-I am the better agent.” I had got him line and sinker.


“If you don’t fear anything, then come on out, and fight me, mano y mano.”


He stepped out from behind his pillar, “So be it.”


He never remembered that I play dirty. As soon as he let down his cover, I emptied my entire clip of ten millimeters into his upper torso. Just because we had powers didn’t make us immortal.


“You… Clever… Weasel.”


“I’m also the better agent because I know all your weaknesses… I read your diary.”


“You… may have… beat me… but I am not… alon-” that was all he managed to whisper before he bled out. This phrase troubled me. If he wasn’t alone, then that meant that there were more people like me, but that also meant that there were more people like him. If he had only been a pawn, then that meant that there were more enemies, individuals with more power. I had to be ready.


I turned in a report on the case to the CIA, along with feasible proof, proving Zero was guilty of twenty-one cases of homicide.


“Thanks again, mate,” that was about all you ever got out of my boss.
After that I left. My mind was in pieces, inner turmoil ripping it apart. I was afraid, for once I was actually afraid. I was the best detective the world had ever seen, and I was scared to my very soul. A war was coming, and if I was to survive, I had to perfect my skills, and hone my abilities. I had no clue what to expect, so I expected everything because that was just the beginning.
THE END