Adrian could think of no other response, “You do not represent the law, you are an outlaw and are responsible for the deaths of enough people to fill our courts for the next decade.”
“Thank you,” Cliffhanger said behind a mask which concealed his face. He wore the standard outback style hat and a poncho that blew in the wind like a cape as had previously been reported to his reputation. Sunglasses covered his eyes so there was no face to give away intentions to Adrian and his men. Only his words were as solidified as granite in an ancient quarry. “You have made my point for me. With the amount of crime that you alone are guilty of, courts have no time, or ability to process them all leaving the villains of the world to shower evil upon the lives of the many innocent. That is why I am here—no trial, no reports to file. And of all those villains, you are but a toe which helps it walk. Now, it is time to slow that walk down to a crawl.”
That is a small segment of the first chapter from my new project The Curse of Fort Seven Mile which revisits the world of the vigilante Cliffhanger first introduced in my 2004 novel The Symposium of Justice. For my readers here I am happy to provide a teaser which is seen below—a very small section of the opening chapter first draft which is going very well. As I’ve jumped back into the world of Cliffhanger much of the work I’ve done over the last decade are filling the pages easily leading to a number of very interesting chapters. The below segment is essentially the president of the local F.O.P. of Fort Seven Mile Adrian Fellini demanding more money from the mayor and city council due to the rise in violence due to the roaming vigilante behavior of Cliffhanger. The mayor in this case is a young woman who stepped into the role as the former mayor had desired an affair with her and made her vice-mayor to maintain a proximity to her. After his death in the events from The Symposium of Justice, she is now in charge and she lets the F.O.P president know her thoughts about his demands.
This is just the first step of a project that will prove to be a massive ongoing endeavor. The plan is to release these chapters one by one over the coming months, but eventually they will fill rather large books inspired by pulp fiction. As a writer I am concerned about a great number of topics and the character Cliffhanger provides for a very rich canvas to paint all those issues into a coherent storyline that is suitable to the old pulp serials of the distant past—when literature and entertainment was at a peak that I greatly respect. The following section from The Curse of Fort Seven Mile doesn’t give away any spoilers as to plot points of any destruction to the integrity of the drama, but will provide some insight into what can be expected. So please do enjoy the following selection and stay tuned for much more to come.
Excerpt from The Curse of Fort Seven Mile
Chapter One
Misty Finnegan maintained her calm and her two allies on council sat stoically amidst the animal-like chatter of the rabid police officers smelling blood in the water due to Fellini’s comments. Without anger to fuel their antics, the clapping officers subsided into murmurs then quickly lost their enthusiasm as Fellini squared his shoulders confidently toward the council members. His posture indicated that he felt his previous statement had been a check-mate against Finnegan and her council. But then Misty pushed her dainty hair behind her shoulder blades and let her tongue lose as if a knight combating a vile dragon had cast forth a lance intended for decapitation. “As you all know—those of you clapping and drumming up banter like vile baboons thumping their chests at a zoo, I am up for election next year. Of course there is a risk that the people of Fort Seven Mile may not vote for me during the next election. It is possible that they may witness my actions here before you today and remove me from office. If that were to happen it may be possible that I’ll lose the many offers of free lunches, the attempted bribes, the lecherous conduct of those looking for an advantage in their businesses with campaign donations to the candidate they put their money on, as if we were all as politicians a number on a gambling table. It is possible that these are the last months that I will be mayor of this city, or hold an office in its historic building.” Misty paused for effect. “It is possible that I may be forced to return back to my home to focus on my children and husband without a care for the outside world—that I may not feel the pressure to attend every charity event in town, every ribbon cutting, every attempt to have someone desire to have their picture taken with me only to be propped up and displayed as if I were a trophy in obtaining power. It is possible that I may be free of this burden for the rest of my life knowing that I did what was right and can sleep well at night cognoscente that I stood up for proper management and conduct of the Fort Seven Mile tax payers based on my own opinions and judgment. It is possible—all of it. And because all things are possible, here is what I have to say to you. Your police officers garner too high of a wage. There are too many of them and they pass their time too often harassing the good tax payers of Fort Seven Mile with traffic citations and cat-calling harassment—much of which I have had to suffer through myself. They are always late to a crime, and only show up to gather evidence. Their ability to stop crime is negligible at best
Fellini had heard enough, “negligible at best! How dare you make such an assertion!” The other police officer members rumbled angrily toward Misty Finnegan with red-faced utterances. “It is the thin blue line they walk, these officers of Fort Seven Mile who sacrifice their lives for the safety of our citizens.”
“The only sacrifice at play are those from the tax payers to pay their high salaries.” Misty said cutting off Fellini before he had a chance to continue. “You referred to the bandit Cliffhanger, Mr. Fellini. You spoke of him as a menace but who else has been present to stop crime before it happens, instead of after? Who else has risked their life in such an audacious manner than the masked outlaw known as Cliffhanger? Certainly nobody in this room—if so let them come forth now and make the pronouncements of valor which can eclipse the heroics of Cliffhanger.
Fellini was about to erupt with anger. “So you are a sympathizer to a known outlaw, a criminal, and a murderer? You speak highly of a menace to the fabric of society and an open violator of the law!”
“I speak as a member of the legislative body of our community to define law as our times dictate—not to carry on the mistakes of our past as they were manipulated by the likes of yourself, Mr. Fellini. Misty Finnegan sat forward and placed both of her elbows on her elevated desk. “You must remember your place, we were elected to legislate, and if that effort proves to be a failure, then the voters will remove us. We were not elected to dance from the fingertips of union presidents and allow open extortion of our tax payer dollars. If you want to see Cliffhanger off the streets of Fort Seven Mile, then be where crimes are committed before they happen and beat him to the effort. If you did such a thing, your officers may just catch him in the act. Then and only then will you be qualified to decide who is the criminal, the one who is trying to restore justice to Fort Seven Mile, or those offering to stop crime if only their pay checks would become more bolstered.”
A desperate silence filled the room as the spirits of intelligence had fled the minds of police union members upon hearing Misty’s dialogue. Adrian Fellini after many years of serving as a police officer and over a decade as the president of their labor union for the first time in his life was lost for words. He struggled to find them, but none were present causing him to stare blankly at the seat of Misty Finnegan. He wasn’t alone, not a word or murmur so much as a cough emerged from the mouths of the other officers who had gathered in solidarity believing that tonight’s ceremony would bring them wealth, not a grim reality of such audacious disrespect and contempt from an elected official. Worse yet, the rest of the council members made no show of chastising Misty Finnegan which was the worst of it. Two members of the five on council Fellini knew supported his cause, but because they were now outnumbered by the election of LaRue, they kept their mouths shut. Their finger to the wind told them that political change was coming to Fort Seven Mile and two primary figures were the cause of the sudden insurrection. Cliffhanger had embolden the population to question their authority figures disrupting the election cycle, and Misty Finnegan’s sudden acquisition of power in the wake of Mayor Goodman’s death was obviously going to her head. For three years she had hardly made a peep during public hearings and now she was giving anti-police speeches and openly supporting insurrection.
Misty Finnegan continued to speak for quite some time but Adrian Fellini had phased out her words. All he could feel now were the stares of his union members bearing holes in the back of his head looking for action. This insult could not be allowed to stand. The new mayor would have to be taught a lesson and be brought in line. Fellini didn’t like the public relation trouble that came with enforcing such punishment, but if there was ever a time for it—now was it. The F.O.P. labor unions across the nation over time had managed to maintain quite a lot of fear just through the threat of a reduced workplace presence. Always in the back of people’s minds were the early days of the union when dissidents on both sides were sometimes beaten into compliance. Without the threat of force the union was toothless, and it was obvious that Misty Finnegan did not fear that possibility. As leader of the Fort Seven Mile Fraternal Order of Police, it was up to Adrian Fellini to remind Finnegan of the implication of her actions and to fall into compliance.
He reasoned that with the recent upsurge of violence in Fort Seven Mile by the hands of Cliffhanger, that the media would be much more forgiving than they might otherwise be. A beaten mayor hospitalized for standing against the police dedicated to serving the public was a bet Fellini was willing to make in coming out on top during the court of public opinion debates that would inevitably come after.
For a brief moment he considered that a humiliating gang rape of the pretentious Misty Finnegan would be pleasurable—as she was an extremely handsome woman. Such a disgrace would mark her for life and shut her mouth forever. But, after what Cliffhanger did to “Scarface the Rapist,” the child molester Tanner who had just recently recovered from his wounds in that showdown organized by Mayor Goodman to rally support for an upcoming police levy, paving the way for the same raises that Fellini was now seeking support for—Fellini had second thoughts about the effectiveness of that strategy. A rape might make Finnegan a more sympathetic figure to the female voters of Fort Seven Mile whereas a good old-fashioned beating would be more appropriate in this case.
Of course everyone in town would know who was at fault, but would they care? Probably not, in all his years of police work, he knew the best way to make a compliant public was to bring fear to their minds. Nobody wanted to be on the wrong side of the law—and his police officers were the law. They were that thin blue line and nobody wanted to be on the wrong side of it. So Fellini rationed before Misty stopped lacerating him with her speech that tonight after the public hearing on her way to her car, she would be beaten to within inches of her life and hospitalized for insurrection. Fear would return to the minds of Fort Seven Mile which would lead to respect. Social order would then return. It was weak policy toward this type of rebellious conduct that had created Cliffhanger in the first place and now public officials were being emboldened by his antics. It was time to put a stop to it otherwise there would be no raises for his officers. Instead by the talk of Misty Finnegan, there may actually be lay-offs, and that was not going to happen on Adrian Fellini’s watch. The more he thought about it, the viler his evil deeds against Finnegan became filling his mind with excitement. As a benefit, it might even occur during this beating her cloths would be torn away in such a way to fill his nights with the sight of her innocent beauty robbed by him and his selected men. Upon such a visual saturation he would sleep soundly that night with dreams of passion released from prisons of pent-up aggression
Fellini quickly found three other rabid officers from his members willing to hide in the shadows with him dressed in black with their faces concealed waiting for Misty Finnegan to leave the council chambers for the night. As usual, she was the last to leave—all the other members had scurried to their cars and left for the day shortly after the late evening meeting had ended. When Finnegan had finally stopped talking most of the officers had left including Adrian showing their public displeasure with her words. In the end only a few curious citizens remained—none of them members of the police force. There are always pleasantries exchanged at the end of those types of meetings, but soon thereafter the other council members headed for their cars. Misty had remained in the mayor’s office for at least a half an hour after Mary Lawson had rolled out of the parking lot. A lone white GMC Yukon SUV remained parked under a lone parking lot light waiting for the mayor to occupy it.
The Finnegan’s were very wealthy—by far the wealthiest family in Fort Seven Mile. Rumors were that Misty’s husband Fletcher had won the lottery, but it had recently been revealed during a newspaper expose about Misty’s rise to power that neither of them had ever purchased a single lottery ticket in their lives. Their vast wealth had been created by her husband and his business dealings from a previous life—which was astonishing given his reputation as a simple grill cook at the popular hamburger restaurant, Republics. The couple owned a vast castle built on the outskirts of town which was the talk of every member of this rural Ohio farm community. Fort Seven Mile was considered a small town pretending to be a big city and was the battle ground between many modern controversies. But the most audacious of which was Misty’s strange husband—a supposed genius who chose to waste his time as a grill cook while his wife climbed the halls of power through politics.
There was much speculation that Misty’s flare for politics and rumored affair with Mayor Goodman was in her disapproval of her husband’s low social ambitions. For a beauty like her wanted to be seen and relished in the public light. Her wedding ring was a small little thing that showed poor taste in social delight—yet their home was certainly not part of any fashion trend ongoing anywhere in the country, let alone the world. The castle they lived in had now stood for over ten years and resembled a medieval structure that looked like a miniature version of a Crusader fortress. They held over two hundred acres yet performed almost no farming. The lifestyle within those fortress walls that Fletcher and his wife Misty conducted was the constant obsession of Adrian’s police officers. As public as Misty was, Fletcher was quite aloof and despondent toward social causes. Fellini could never remember a time that Misty was on the arm of her husband during a charity event or other political gathering deepening the mystery.
Perhaps her words in favor of Cliffhanger were that she fancied the bandit’s power. She obviously had an eye for strength and in the wake of Mayor Goodman’s life, who else could fill such an unquenchable appetite? Even the hired assassin personally brought in by police Chief Clyde and Mayor Goodman had found himself dead the night the water tower exploded. Mayor Goodman’s strange obsession with that water tower was quite another topic of speculation as strange electronic devices were found in the wreckage. But the big news story had been the hit man R.L Justice who had terrified Fellini during his brief visit. The giant hit-man ended up in the middle of the highway dead crushed by a tractor-trailer. Misty Finnegan just happened to be at the scene with her husband and their two young children. Another powerful man dead conveniently close to Misty Finnegan—there was a lot more to the young idealistic mayor than what she showed the public.
Chief Clyde had not been the same since the fight at the flooded river where most of the police officers of Fort Seven Mile had set a trap for Cliffhanger with the assassin and his personal assailants in command. Many body bags were filled that day including Mayor Goodman. Chief Clyde had been uncooperative and fearful since. Even when asked to be a part of this effort against the new mayor he refused—terrified that Cliffhanger might hunt him down in some way.
However there were three strong men—good long serving officers who were more than willing to take their batons to the skull of the dainty Mayor Finnegan. Four strong men against her would be too much as the back door opened into the parking lot and she emerged into the darkness. Adrian’s men remained concealed—they had done this type of thing before and knew how to behave. There would be no words of greeting to Finnegan, or warning. They would just overtake her and beat her into unconsciousness as quickly as possible making the whole thing look like a robbery. They wouldn’t try to kill her, but sometimes accidents happened. If she did die, there would be one less politician to deal with. On the upside there would be little future resistance from the public in providing pay increases to police officers when it wasn’t even safe for the mayor to walk to her car
Misty felt eyes bearing down upon her as she hastened her pace toward her SUV. She pulled out her keys and unlocked the doors even with a distance of thirty feet yet to travel. Evil was lurking somewhere in the shadows and the night was filled with warning—especially after all the police officers unceremoniously left the meeting without a word. Trouble was brewing and she suspected that many eyes watched from behind every window, every car, and every shadow. But she had been trained for this kind of thing and now was the time for it to reveal itself. Her role had changed and it was time to take the next step
Much to her fear, a rustle could be heard behind so she stopped and turned to face four assailants each with the police batons extended ready for action. She had just entered the light cast upon her vehicle from above by the lone light. She had almost made it, but there was no way to get to safety now. The heels she wore would not allow such swift action. She desired to run, to flee as fast as she could, but she remembered her training, and held strong. “I know that the face behind that mask is you Mr. Fellini. Your movement brings disrespect to your desire to conceal yourself.”
The body in the lead stopped and hovered with uncertainty.
“You don’t have to do this,” Misty warned as though a concerned mother. “You have not yet committed a crime.”
Three of the faces looked at the leader who stopped in their tracks with paralysis. “You know now that I cannot let you live,” Adrian muttered without even considering the words. “You have crossed the line and now there isn’t even deniability to mask these brutal necessities.”
“Mr. Fellini, if you do not put those weapons down, you may not live through the next two minutes,” Misty uttered with a frightening self-assurance.
For those who know my fiction writing, you can guess what happens next. For everyone else, you’ll be in for a treat. The action scenes such as what was in my Tail of the Dragon novel provides a good reference. Stay tuned for the rest of the story and the follow-up chapter titled, “Latte Sipping Prostitutes,” coming soon.
Rich Hoffman
The Overmanwarrior 