“Once I saw the truth, I couldn’t hide from it. I had to stop them.” He coughed out the words with a mouth full of blood.
“We have to get you to a hospital now. You've got to continue your fight. What you’re doing is too important to stop.”
"No. My part is done. It’s cost me more than I imagined getting this far. I'm tired. I’ve lost so much. If I live, I will never have peace again.”
He looked deeply into her eyes for a moment. Then said. “If you really want to help. Don’t let them have their car back.”
He took another strained breath and held it to trap a massive sob in his chest. “Please don’t let me die here in Citadel.”
Tears swelled in Betty McDougal’s sober eyes. She understood the sentiment exactly. The stranger was so weak and vulnerable. He had a rugged face like her father. He saw the black and white things in life, like her dad. The spy knew the difference between right and wrong. The Citadel wouldn’t stand for it, so they punished him for challenging them. She had to help him.
“I promise I will grant your wish. I know a better place where we both can go.”
She drove the big, black car out of the city. As they traveled he slipped in and out of consciousness. "I hope that you’re a good person. I hope you are a moral creature."
She cried privately at his words.
"Don’t let the car fall back into the wrong hands. It doesn't have to be used for evil. It’s amoral. It’s just a tool. It could be used for good.”
In less than an hour she was back at the McDougal farm. Somewhere along the route the spy’s heart stopped. She made a real connection in the last moments of the stranger’s life. As suddenly as he came to her, he was gone. She was alone again.
She pulled up the dirt driveway. She saw that brush had grown high and wild but everything else was just like they left it so long ago. She stepped from the car. The night air was fresh. The forgotten sound of crickets played a familiar tune. She was home… She was really home.
To her this was sacred ground. So she buried the mysterious hero in it.
As the young nurse dug his grave by the light of the full moon, a calm washed over her. She thought about the day she had. All the events coalesced to create this unique moment. It couldn’t have been a coincidence. Maybe it was a sign. It felt like a higher purpose was bestowed upon her that night. It felt like a reward for all her hard work. It felt like destiny.
The villains in Citadel had too much power. It was unfair. Their wealth gave them an advantage they used to abuse others. They destroyed people for sport and got away with it.
Someone needed to fight back. Someone had to balance the scales of justice. Her eyes were wide open. The spy proved that one person could make a difference. Maybe she couldn’t change the world but she could change the city. She had a way to strike back. The car was the missing piece. It could be the vehicle of her revenge. She began to devise a plan for her future.
Before morning she hid the mysterious vehicle in the barn.
It was the car of tomorrow forged by super science. In the back seat she found an operators manual in a pile of stolen, crumpled, papers. She discovered that the wonder car was full of gadgets and accessories. They would allow her to adopt a new role in life, one in a position of real power.
In the papers was a list of the villains. All the problems in the city could be traced back to these men. She recognized all the names. She could get close to them, but how far would she be willing to go to topple the Citadel?
There really was a war looming, but it was going to take place in Citadel City. Betty picked her side. She had her weapon. Now she needed to learn how to fight.
PART 02
SURVIVAL METHOD
It was a fall afternoon. The sky was overcast and Citadel City looked pale as Betty McDougal walked through a battered part of town. She looked at the address scribbled on her notepad. It led her to an old, broken-down gym on a dead-end street. It was a private place where gladiators were born, then returned to die. It was a place where aging champions gathered to recount their adventures in the ring. In their prime, they were professional boxers. They made a lot of rich people richer battling one another for the public praise. They were titans breaking bones and spraying blood into the crowd as they screamed for more. For most, it was a long time ago, but it was all they had left. For some, recounting tales of glory kept their legends alive. Others, not wanting to let their years of experience go to waste, trained a new generation of young boxers. It was a way to stay relevant, near to the ring, and share a piece of the action.
Betty needed to know how to fight. After a little research she discovered Murdock's Gym. It wasn't difficult to appreciate the concentration of the knowledge it housed. It seemed like a sensible place to start.
When she arrived she saw that one of the large storefront windows had been broken some time ago. It was replaced with a sheet of plywood. In the other window, hand written signs littered the glass. They were clumsy approximations of real boxing posters, hung by sticky-tape. They hyped gym bouts, between unknowns. Instead of photographs of the contenders they displayed crude drawings, and hyperbolic slogans with creative spelling solutions.
She opened the door and stepped in. The smell of sweating men washed around her. The floorboards creaked under her tiny feet. The room was bigger then she expected. A regulation sized boxing ring with fatigued ropes sat in the center. It was surrounded on two sides by folding chairs and wooden benches. The area was strewn with people. Some were in conversation. Some were seated and some were napping. No one was fighting, though a few wore boxing gloves and trunks. Betty's eyes lingered on a young man hanging on the rope at ringside. He was listening to instructions from an older man and nodding sharply. His muscular chest and arms looked like they were carved from granite. She wondered what they felt like.
Her spell was broken by a gravely voice. “Whose girlfriend are you?”
A hunchbacked black man with a broom and a flattened nose appeared from the shadows.
She replied with a startled, “What?”
“Who you lookin’ for, doll?” He asked.
“Ah, no one, I’m here for myself. I'd like to learn how to box.” She said.
“Can you say that again? Sometimes I don't hear too good.” He replied.
“I want to learn how to fight? I can pay.” She patted her purse as if it were proof of payment.
He looked Betty up and down, and shook his head. “If you say so.”
The hunchback turned and scanned the room for minute. He knew everyone in the gym. He knew their stats, their histories and their temperaments. After a few minutes of silent calculations, he nodded with a solution. “Come with me.”
The men in the gym were beginning to notice Betty. She felt self-conscious and looked at the floor as she followed her guide. He led Betty over to a man who slouched in a metal chair. As they approached she heard a soft snore coming from him. The man had the biggest head and shoulders she'd ever seen. He wore a newsboy cap and plaid shirt with a big white gut bulging from it. He was unshaven and graying. His shoes were untied. The hunchback struck the man. “Hey Anvil.”
“Huh what?” The sleeping giant awoke.
“Anvil, I've got a student for you.”
The Anvil turned to the voice as Betty was presented to him.
“What, the dame?” Asked Anvil in a heavy booming voice.
“She wants to learn about boxing.” Responded the hunchback.
“Oh ok, I get it now.” A smile lit the Anvil's face.