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#Post#: 3508--------------------------------------------------
[TSF Story 1] The Avenger [Spotlight Story]
By: teamsatisfaction Date: January 15, 2013, 3:04 pm
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I opened my eyes suddenly, my head full of pain and
regrets. That one man in Reno, who had tortured our family for
years; was taken down. Shot. By a man with vengeance as his only
friend. That man; sleeping in his cell in the Folsom Prison,
living the rest of his life like a caged animal. All because of
that heartless murderer who ruined his life and crushed his
dreams. And that one person who took hold of his hate and ended
his life. That person; Is me.
Day after day, I could not contain my anger. After
murdering my eldest son, there was a dark hole in the center of
my heart. I pleaded with the police to find who was responsible.
The man who committed this crime was very good at covering his
tracks. The police has given up after a week. I was the only
person who knew the face of the murderer. I searched his
records, tracked him, and did everything in my power to find
him.
This manhunt went on for about four years. There were a
countless number of times where I had begun to lose hope. My
wife pleaded with me, day in and day out, to stop what I was
doing and move on with the rest of our lives. I did not listen
to her, and that is what I regret the most. After she gave up on
me and settled a divorce, I had only one thing left in my life;
and that was my vengeance. My only purpose of living in this
horrible world. And it took four long, dreadful years to finally
jump onto that train in Reno and shoot that man. After all of
that time, my life was finally complete. My last drive in life
was gone; and I was ready to leave this world, as well. But
before I could do anything, the police found me and hauled me
away in chains.
So here I lay, in the Folsom Prison in Reno, Nevada. It
is much harder to escape the world with your hands chained
behind your back. This is a maximum security prison, you are
cuffed at all times. I am nothing, but a puppet; and these
people can do anything they want with me.
It has been a long three years since that day my
vengeance came true. Since that time, I have been locked away in
here. I lay in my bed every night, and have brutal nightmares.
Each day, the nightmares get worse. I lay in my hard bed every
day and stare out that small, barred window. I watch the train
roll down the tracks, and hear the whistle fade out along with
my dreams as it passes by. My greatest wish is to be like that
train; riding freely, far away from this prison. I would give
anything to go back and fix my wrong actions; to go back to when
it all started. Seven years ago, today...
It was a week after the murderer, John Steadman, broke
into our home and shot my son. I arrived at my blue and white
house after a long day of work. I park my white van in the
narrow driveway. I step out of the van and slam the door shut
behind me. As I take a sip of my coffee, I walk into my house in
misery, taking one slow step after another. I ignore the calls
of my wife and walk right past her. I slump into our soft, brown
leather couch. I stare into the blank television screen, glaring
at my reflection. How could I let this happen? I snap out of my
lifeless trance as I see the figure of my short, brown-haired
wife tower over me. I look away, in shame.
“Eleven,” I mutter quietly.
“What do you mean?” my wife questioned.
“Robert was eleven years old. What kind of sick,
heartless person would kill an innocent child?”
“Honey...” she started.
“Sarah, our son was murdered. I will never forgive the
man who did this.” My eyes began to water. I took the back of my
hand and wiped my eyes.
“Alex... I hate to see you like this. But there is
nothing we can do but pray,” she assured me. Her green eyes were
staring into my soul. I looked away.
“No. I have made a decision. I am not going to rest
until I have found that man.” My wife looked at me with hopeless
eyes. She sighed, and I knew she felt pity for me.
“Please, don’t do this, Alex,” she pleaded. I looked up
at her, feeling shameful. “I love you...” But I just got up and
walked right by her. I did not know what to say. I could feel
her eyes at the back of my head as I walked outside and into my
van. I looked ahead and saw her beautiful face staring out to me
from the window. I took a quick sip of my coffee, looked at her,
then turned the old, rusty key in the ignition.
I rolled into the station and parked my car. I stepped
out and slammed my empty coffee cup on the ground as I walked
into the station and through the gray double doors at the front.
I walked up to the lady at the front desk. She was African
American with short, black hair. She wore a formal blue outfit
and looked like she had put on the entire stick of cherry
lipstick. I faintly smiled at her.
“Hello, Alex,” she addressed. She gave me a friendly
smile.
“Hi, um. I’m looking for Chief Morris, is he around?”
“Yes, he should be coming out of a meeting right about
now. He’s in his office.”
“Thank you.” I nodded at her and walked up a couple of
flights of stairs and into a long, narrow hallway. The hallway
was crawling with people. I knocked on Chief Morris’ office door
and let myself in quietly. I stepped inside the giant office.
Morris was sitting at his desk, looking through some files. He
looked up at me and put the files down. He has dark brown, messy
hair with a shaved beard, accompanied by an unshaved mustache.
He had a very tab body and his chief badge shined proudly on his
blue uniform. By his look, you could estimate that he is around
the age of 45.
“I am very busy at the moment, but please sit down if
you would like to talk,” he instructed. I sat down in the wooden
chair across from him. He swung his leather wheeled chair around
and grabbed a stapler, then swung back around. He continued to
work.
“I actually have a request, sir,” I started. I waited for a
response, but he just looked up at me, then looked back down. I
knew he was waiting for me, so I continued. “As you know, my son
was murdered one week ago. I feel we need to look into this.”
“You know we have done everything in our power, Alex. The man
has been thought to have fled the United States by now, out of
our jurisdiction.”
“Well, if you won’t do anything, then I will,” I warned.
“You know you can’t make any actions without the board’s
permission. Do I need to explain the rules to you?” He filed
through some papers on his desk and pulled out a big, blue book
that had the words “California Officers’ Manual” printed on it
and passed it to me. I snatched it out of his hands and threw it
out of the giant glass window behind him. A cool breeze filled
the large room, as if trying to cool off the tensity in the room
from us glaring at each other angrily. A loud car alarm from
outside broke the silence a few seconds later.
“Whether you like it or not, I’m avenging his death,” I
declared. I had no regrets. I stood up from the uncomfortable,
wooden chair and started walking across the room to the door
leading out of his giant office.
“Turn in your badge on the way out, please.” I ignored him and
stepped out of the room, slamming the door shut behind me. I
descended the stairs pass the narrow hallway and stormed out of
the building. I walked over to my car, and the sound of the car
alarm grew louder. I take a turn and finally spot my car, the
front window smashed. I start cursing loudly as I run over to
the front of my car. People glare at me from across the parking
lot. I study my windshield, and I see something square and blue
in the middle of the impact. I reach my hand in, feeling glass
scathe my skin. I pull out of big, blue book. I throw it as far
as I can across the parking lot and sit down on the curb, my
hands against my forehead. I stand up quickly and open my car
door. I brush the glass off of my leather seat and sit down. I
try to glance pass the cracks in the windshield and see the road
ahead of me, but I find it very difficult.
Minutes later, I arrive back at my beautiful home in Los
Angeles, California. I storm into my house and see my wife. She
is sitting down on the couch, watching the news. In her arms is
our four-month-old son, Anthony. I look at her, feeling
disgusted with myself. This time, she gives me the silent
treatment and pays no attention to me. I walk into the living
room and sit on the couch on the other side of the room. I stare
at the light-blue wallpaper on the wall, then look at the clock.
6:43, it read. I then took the laptop off of the small, round
table next to me, click on the switch on the lamp, and open my
laptop. I am about to open Internet Explorer, but I stop in my
tracks when I see my desktop background, a picture of me, my
wife, and our two sons. This picture was taken two days before
the shooting of my son. I cannot take my eyes off of it. I yearn
for the past, and the past only; for everything to be normal
again, like it used to be. I set the laptop back down on the
table and stand up. I decide that it is time to take action.
I kick open the door leading to the outside world and run to my
police vehicle. I pop open the trunk and take out some powder
and a duster. I then start dusting my house for fingerprints;
the walkway, the floors, everywhere that was part of the crime
scene. Sadly, I could find no evidence. That is; until I dropped
all of my supplies on the floor. The powder spilled all over my
gun. I dusted it, then noticed prints that were not mine. Then I
studied the gun very closely... This was my gun! But that could
not be right. I had my gun with me all day and left it at the
station!
I was puzzled, set into a trance. I broke out of my long trance
when I heard a knock at our front door. I ran over to our big,
white door and I turned the silver knob. Some faces I recognized
were standing in front of me. There were three men in police
uniforms, carrying guns and shackles in their hands. They barge
into the kitchen.
“Alex, we have looked into your case further, per your
request. It would seem that new evidence has come to life, and
we now know exactly who the murderer was,” Chief Morris told me.
My face lit up, with excitement and happiness.
“Really? That’s great news!” I exclaimed. Finally; at
long last, there was a bright light at the end of this long,
dark tunnel called life.
“On the contrary, it’s not-so-great news.” Morris stared
at me with cold, hard eyes. I knew something was amiss. I backed
up a couple of steps, closer to the living room.
“What do you mean?” I shivered at the thought of what he
could mean by that statement.
“You dropped your gun on the floor when you left my
office earlier. We examined the fun and found your prints on
it.” He paused and waited for my response, so I followed along.
“Yes, it’s my gun. Of course it has my prints on it,” I
snapped.
“Thanks for being honest, Alex. You were a good
officer.” He looked at the two officers behind him. “Take him
into custody.” The two policemen started stepping toward me. I
backed away slowly into the living room. I was in utter shock.
My wife went to the supermarket about ten minutes ago, so I was
all alone with men pointing guns at me.
“Wait, what?”
“Your gun matches the murder weapon used to kill your
son. This is a rare type of gun, only officers can possess,”
Morris explained. I looked back and forth between Morris and the
two men stepping toward me. I hastily turned my head back and
forth as I continued to back away into the living room.
“Resist and we won’t hesitate to shoot,” Morris warned.
But I ignored his warning and started running. Toward the
window.
I jumped out of the closed window in the living room, shattered
glass falling all over me. I ignored the pain of the glass
scraping my skin. I heard gunshots nearby, which made me panic
even more. One of the shots ricocheted off of the trash can next
to me as I was running. I was right near my small, white fence
across the yard when a shot whooshed right past my right ear. I
then jumped over the fence. I had no clue where I was going, but
I just followed my feet as they kept running without my consent.
I hear sirens about a mile away. I ducked behind a large hedge
in someone’s yard, about a block away from my house. I made the
holy cross on my chest, then grasped my hands together and
prayed. I did not kill my own son; but now I know who did.
Nine days ago, two days before the murder of my son, I
was in a secret warehouse in San Diego. A man was there who was
a former agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He had
some special guns that I was sent to test and retrieve for the
force. I tested every gun he had in his inventory. One of them
must had been the murder weapon. That gun must had been planted
in Morris’ office after I left, with my fingerprints on it! That
was about forty-five minutes ago, meaning that he must still be
in the area! John Steadman; the man I must kill. An eye for an
eye, a life for a life. I am going to write a new chapter in
this story; and the story shall be written in blood. Whether it
is my blood or Steadman’s, it makes no difference to me.
A siren suddenly whooshed right pass me. I heard the
vicious barking of hounds passing by along with the siren. I
knew they were about to release the tracking dogs, so I came to
the conclusion that I had to keep moving. I ran to a nearby
telephone booth. There was a short, skinny man in there. I
opened the door and pushed him out, to the ground. I took the
phonebook and stumbled out of the booth. The man gave me the
finger as I ran down the street. Suddenly, my wife pulled up
next to me in my white van. I jumped into the passenger seat and
slammed the door shut behind me. I stared at my wife, horrified.
“What’s going on?!” she questioned, possibly more in
shock than I was.
“Drive! Go anywhere that’s safe! Make sure no one can
find us!” I exclaimed. I was losing my mind.
“Okay, okay! Calm down!” my wife scolded me. She panicked
even more than me, then drove down the street very fast. Anthony
cried in the backseat.
“Slow down! If the cops pull us over, it’s all over!” She
listened to me and slowed down. But only to a few miles-per-hour
above the speed limit.
“Honey, I’m a fugitive. I was framed for Robert’s
murder!”
“What?!” she exclaimed. “You’re a good, long-serving
officer! They should know it’s not you! Especially since it’s
your son!” She pulled over into the parking lot of an old
warehouse. Our van was parked behind a giant bush, hidden. We
jumped out of the car and my wife took Anthony and our laptop
into the warehouse with us. The door is always unlocked, so we
stepping right in.
“Search John Steadman on the laptop. I’ll look for his
name in this phonebook,” I instructed.
“Dammit, I have no internet service!” she exclaimed. I
kept flipping through the yellow pages of the Yellow Pages. I
found nothing, whatsoever.
“Nothing at all,” I declared, feeling more hopeless than
I ever had before. I suddenly heard dogs barking in the
distance. I stood up and hit the laptop with all of the force in
the ball of my right foot. The laptop screen shattered into tiny
pieces and the laptop body became slightly disfigured.
“What are you doing?!” she scolded me.
“All of my important files are on there. We can’t let
anyone know anything,” I explained.
As I was about to pick up the broken laptop and dispose of it,
the giant warehouse door cracked open. An officer with a dog on
a leash stepped in.
“Hey, what are you doing in here? This is a restricted
area,” he asked me suspiciously. I was about to grab my gun and
my badge, but I realized that I left everything back at my
house. I had to play it like a normal civilian.
“Oh, sorry. We didn’t know,” I started. “We just like to
come here because this is where we-”
“Err, I don’t want to know. Names, please?”
“John Steadman,” I answered quickly. I realized he was
just a security guard.
“One moment, please,” the guard told us. He eyed me,
then walked away with his dog. Me, my wife, and Anthony stayed
quiet until he returned a minute later, without his dog.
“Are you John and Sally Steadman from Reno, Nevada?” he
asked. I then thought for a moment. I remember John saying
something about Reno back in the warehouse, so I thought I had
the right person. I reached for the officer’s gun and shot him
in the chest. He screamed in agony. I knew someone would hear
the scream and call for the police, so we quickly ran to our
van. We quickly drove off, onto the highway. I felt a sharp pain
in my head. I was not the type to murder innocent people.
Possibly, saying my name was that of a murderer may have given
me his personality, as well. I jumped into the driver’s seat.
“Looks like we’re headin’ to Reno,” I said as I turned
the key in the ignition and grabbed onto the steering wheel.
And that is how the story began. I tracked John in Reno,
searched his records, and did everything I could to find him.
The entire time, my wife was always at my side. I knew she was
tired of being on the run, but she was always with me, every
step of the way. I just feel ashamed that I did not do the same
for her. I neglected her, yelled at her, and used her. It took
her two years for her to finally leave me. She said that I cared
more about our long-gone son than her and the beautiful child we
had at the time being, so she settled a divorce. To this day, I
am completely unaware of what happened to her. She could be in
prison, or even dead; because they know she was on the run with
me. I was fighting this war alone. I lost all sense of hope, and
nearly killed myself many times.
I blindly played Steadman’s game of Hide and Seek for
four long years; until I finally came across some help. I found
Steadman’s wife, Sally Steadman, alone in their house one day. I
asked her about the whereabouts of John, but she would not talk.
She cared a lot about John, even though they were divorced. She
reminded me of my wife in so many ways. I explained to her what
John did to my son, and she finally decided to talk. She told me
about how John was boarding a train, heading across the border
to Mexico. I had to make haste; before he made it over the
border.
I jumped into my old, white van and drove as fast as I
could, on route to the train station. I stumbled across a
roadblock right in front of the train station. Sally must had
warned the police of my plans. I had to make a very quick
decision; and I decided to run the roadblock. Without thinking,
I stamped my foot on the gas pedal and let go of the wheel,
forming the holy cross on my chest. My giant van smashed through
the roadblock, but damaged the van beyond drivability. I pushed
on the door without opening it, as the door easily lost its
attachments and fell to the ground. I raced to the train
station; I was running faster than I had ever ran before.
Steadman’s train started to leave, and I jumped right onto the
back of it, holding onto a single small rail. I hopped over the
rail and entered through the back door. I witnessed Steadman
sitting at a seat in the middle-right wall of the train. He
looked exactly the same as he did four years ago, only with more
hair on his face. He stood up, staring at me in shock.
I stared into those cold, heartless eyes. I remembered that
horrible face. I held him at gunpoint, as a lady ran to the back
of the train with a cell phone. I knew she was calling the
police, but it mattered little to me.
“You murdered my son! You heartless monster!” I yelled
at the top of my lungs. I let out all of my inner fury and
hatred that had been stirring around in my body for four long
years, each day the intensity of my rage growing stronger.
“You don’t understand! They were going to kill my family
if I didn’t kill your son! I had to choose my family over yours!
Please, forgive me!”
“You’re actually begging for my forgiveness?! What did
the F.B.I. want with my son?! Tell me or I’ll shoot you right
now!” I demanded.
“It was not your son we wanted. It was you. You were the
longest-serving officer of your state’s police force, and you
had all of the information we needed. We needed to gain your
trust to obtain that information. Our goal was to make you think
that your own comrades were the ones who killed your son, so
that you would come crawling to us. But unfortunately, not all
plans work out.” He grinned at me, evilly.
“Why would you want to take down the California State
Police?” I questioned, suspiciously.
“The California State Troopers were thought to be doing
some wrong things, and we were just there to clean up the mess.
Is that not what you’re trying to do right now? Because I can
assure you; killing me will get you nowhere.”
“You know nothing about me! Your death is all that I
care about!” I exclaimed. He looked at me with cold, hard eyes.
I then aimed my shotgun at his head; and pulled the trigger. He
fell to the floor, blood pouring out from his head. Gasps arose
from the people around me.
At long last; my life was finally complete. I held the
gun at the side of my head. I smiled, then pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened. My smile faded when I realized that I was out
of bullets. The train stopped suddenly, and police climbed
aboard. They punched me to the ground and dragged me outside
onto the cold, hard ground. I looked up at the beautiful, blue
sky, and a glare of sunlight shined down on my face. I then saw
the image of my son.
“I love you, dad,” he said to me. He had wings and a
bright smile. He looked at me with beautiful blue eyes, then
faded away back into the sky.
I hope you like the story :) I'm sorry if there's any mistakes
with paragraph spacing, it was copied onto this page weird.
#Post#: 3510--------------------------------------------------
Re: [TSF Story 1] The Avenger [Unfinished]
By: bob123f Date: January 15, 2013, 3:24 pm
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Absolutely brilliant. You should be a recruiter.
#Post#: 3513--------------------------------------------------
Re: [TSF Story 1] The Avenger [Unfinished]
By: supercool08 Date: January 15, 2013, 5:39 pm
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Awesome writing man. ;) 8)
#Post#: 3514--------------------------------------------------
Re: [TSF Story 1] The Avenger [Unfinished]
By: teamsatisfaction Date: January 15, 2013, 5:54 pm
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Thanks, guys! :) Hopefully, the rest will be out soon.
#Post#: 3523--------------------------------------------------
Re: [TSF Story 1] The Avenger [Unfinished]
By: blackmustangs075 Date: January 15, 2013, 10:03 pm
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This is very good! ;D
#Post#: 4179--------------------------------------------------
Re: [TSF Story 1] The Avenger [Unfinished]
By: teamsatisfaction Date: January 19, 2013, 12:04 am
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Thanks, guys ;) It means a lot! I finished writing the 19 long
pages in my notebook, and now I'm ready to type the rest of it!
The full story should be out soon, so stay tuned! ;D
#Post#: 4180--------------------------------------------------
Re: [TSF Story 1] The Avenger [Unfinished]
By: nijkolime Date: January 19, 2013, 3:53 am
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Wow!You are VERY good
#Post#: 4430--------------------------------------------------
Re: [TSF Story 1] The Avenger [Unfinished]
By: teamsatisfaction Date: January 24, 2013, 1:24 pm
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Thanks you! :) ;) The story is due tomorrow, so I'm typing the
rest right now. Most likely, the full story will be released
today!
#Post#: 4457--------------------------------------------------
Re: [TSF Story 1] The Avenger [Finished]
By: blackmustangs075 Date: January 25, 2013, 2:22 pm
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Wow, I love it! :)
#Post#: 4586--------------------------------------------------
Re: [TSF Story 1] The Avenger [Finished]
By: teamsatisfaction Date: January 27, 2013, 5:53 pm
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Can anyone please read this? I'm kinda disappointed nobody is
paying attention to it :/
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