A Bit On Judge

Judge took one last drag off of his hydro, and then flicked the Chesterfield onto the damp bricks.

She tried to lose him on the other side of the fountain, but the murderer was smarter than that. Sorry, Doll Face. He smelled blood. Nothing was going to stop this madman — or so he thought.

The assassin jogged after the mysterious figure in the fog over the paved bay trail, and into the Fisherman’s Wharf. The crosshatched strings of white bulbs still burned overhead in the fog. All of the shops and restaurants had been long since closed up. Judge peered around frantically.

“Now, where did that numbskull get off to?”

Just then a dark formed passed under the halo of a lamppost at the end of the main wharf.

Not tonight, clown. I jogged down to the corner of Isabella’s restaurant, and set my case down in front of me. Yeah, I had something really special planned for just such a jackass.

His long coat draped over either side of his instrument case as Judge made quick work of putting together his newest toy.

I had spent the last eight months doing all of the research and rounding up all of the replica parts for it.

He pulled out a small black metal ammo drum, and snapped it in place at the front of the barrel. He then slid the front pistol grip into place just behind the drum.

Artwork by and courtesy of Christopher Stroud.

Judge tugged the action slide back toward him, and let it go with a click. Muffled cries pierced the dense cloud from the shadows of the docks. The assassin stood up, and let his M1921 Thompson Annihilator hang at his right side.

“No! No, stop it!” the young girl shrieked through the struggle. “Someone!”

The towering man felt her frail hands trying to pry his off of her mouth and throat. There was something primal deep within the recesses of his being that got a cheap thrill out of watching people die. He loved the power. He yearned for the control over who got to live, and who was taken.

He clenched his massive hands around her fragile throat choking her screams at his knees. The young beauty’s eyes bulged, and her body went tight. It wouldn’t be much longer…

“Hey, jackass,” a mellow voice said from behind him. “Why don’t you try picking on someone at least your own age.”

The massive brute turned to see a man of average stature standing at the other end of the pier. His black fedora hid his face. A thin line of white smoke trailed up from the corner of his mouth. The murderer tightened his grasp on the teenager’s larynx. She gasped in desperation.

“I said,” the stranger proclaimed with force, “let the girl go. Now!”

The man in the charcoal suit swept his long brown coat aside, and tilted a Tommy gun up beside his black hat. His left hand took the hydro out of his mouth.

“You will pay with your life for interfering with other’s affairs,” the strangler said tossing the child to the wet dock.

The lean stranger placed the cig back in his mouth, and dropped the machine gun to his right hip.

“This is for all of those kids,” the man said through his smoke. “Do unto others, you smug son of a bitch!”

The massive monster tried to whip out his Sig Sauer pistol, but he knew it wouldn’t matter. The Bogart look-alike unloaded his 100-round drum of .45 caliber bullets. Revenge tore red holes in the murderer’s torso at 1200 bullets per minute.

“One round for every school kid you murdered!” Judge shouted as he advanced on the staggering mass of blood and gore.

The young girl cried and raced behind her strange savior as he marched on her killer. The towering nightmare tumbled backward with every strike. The rounds’ momentum pushed the beast back into the sea. Rounds thwipped off of the planks and wooden posts on the pier. Empty casings rained down leaving a trail to their relentless source.

“How does it feel now, tough guy?” the assassin exclaimed as the killer stumbled over the end of the pier.

Judge walked up to its edge and peered over at the floating corpse in the bay.

“Tell it to the judge, pal,” he said coolly. “Court’s adjourned.”

He strode back over to where the young girl lay whimpering.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded without making eye contact.

“You wanna ride to the local police station?”

Again, she only nodded.

Judge held out his left hand, and the girl’s quivering grip tightened around his. “It’s gonna be alright, sweetheart.” he said as he led her back to his midnight blue ‘38 Chevy Hornet Coupe.

Hunter Cell is coming soon.