Sensible Heroism (part III)

He was intriguing, that was probably the reason he’d come here. Larry was someone that the spirit had met before in many faces, someone that was out to do the best job he could, to help others, no matter that he was torturing himself at the same time. Another cycle had come and gone, day had turned into night, and then back into day before succumbing to the dark once again. The spirit had decided to pay a visit to the detective after claiming three more victims, all lawbreakers and all scum as far as he was concerned. But the state of Larry’s humble, one-bedroom apartment left the man’s state of mind fairly clear as pizza boxes stacked on the stove, neatly no less, and empty beer and liquor bottles settled nicely in the recycling bin near the door left him no doubt that despite being a bit of a slob, Larry was still practical enough to keep the mess out of the way.

He heard the footsteps before he saw Larry round the corner that led into the short hallway to his bedroom and the bathroom at the end. The spirit felt certain that Larry paid too much for this place, but it was the city, that part couldn’t be avoided. At the moment though, the detective had obviously been awakened by some sixth sense he might not fully understand, a gut feeling so to speak. Some might call that indigestion, but the spirit enjoyed the previous explanation better, since many good law enforcement agents knew better than to ignore a gut feeling, he was certain of it.

“There are three more bodies to be found,” he said, watching Larry point the snub-nosed pistol in the general vicinity of his voice, “That won’t do anything you know.”

“Who are you? How are you doing this?” Larry sounded tired, worn out. Was part of this his doing? He’d feel guilty later, but the detective needed to know this now.

“Your partner is kind of an asshole.”

Larry narrowed his eyes, “I agree. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“Do you not have a wife or kids?”

“No,” Larry said, anger tingeing his voice now, “Now answer my question. Are you a ghost, or am I going crazy?”

“Well, I can’t answer the second one, but yes to the first. And before you ask why I’m doing this, everyone I’ve killed deserves it. They’re scum Larry, just leave it at that.”

“What? What are you, a fucking ghost Punisher or something?”

He heard Larry through the door, but he’d decided that the detective had enough on his plate, and would have even more soon enough. There was no need to keep complicating things.

(to be continued)