The Mystery

The Mystery

It had been less than a year since Scott Sullivan had become The Mystery, one of Drake City’s  newest masked crime fighters.  In the short time he had been active, The Mystery had already amassed quite a rogues gallery who tended to get in the way of all of the crime fighting.  After the first time she was arrested, Scott had found out that Trixie Selhorst was a failed accountant and a former champion with the bow and arrow.  She had taken to robbing her employers after making some bad personal investments.  Now she was known as Trixshot and the pun was actually as painful as the arrow wound.  She was a bad accountant but a talented thief and Scott could feel how accurate she was with every painful throb of her shoulder.  He just hoped he wasn’t hurt too bad to track her down.  As soon as he was patched up he would be back on her trail.

He pulled his motorcycle behind the vet’s office and rolled to a stop behind some cardboard boxes.  He climbed down and had to grit his teeth to keep from screaming at the sudden jolt of pain.  He picked the lock and slipped through the back door and into the darkened back room.  Unfortunately, breaking into places was a side effect of being a vigilante.  Besides, it was hardly breaking in if somebody would have let you inside anyway.  He fumbled around for some medical supplies and instead knocked over a trashcan.  He cursed in the darkness.

“You know,” A familiar voice came from the darkness, “you could just flip the lights on.  That usually helps me.”

With that, the overhead florescent lights switched on and Scott was left blinking in the suddenly bright storage room.  Heather Reed was leaning near the switch with a smug smile on her lips.  She looked like she had come from a date and Scott instantly felt both jealous and guilty.

“Haven’t you ever heard of stealth, Heather?” Scott said as he reached down and put the trashcan right again.

“Real stealthy, Mystery Man.  So what’s the problem?”

“You didn’t have to come down here, Heather.  Were you in a date or something?”

“Please, Scott, I’m practically your sidekick.  Let’s get you patched up. Ok?”

“It’s really nothing.  Some more gauze, some anti septic…”

Heather stepped closer and gasped.  “Scott, I can see the blood from here.  Strip to the waist or I’m calling an ambulance.”

“Ok ok. Relax.” Scott said as he slipped one arm and then gingerly slipped the injured arm out of his sleeves and pulled down his costume.  He thought he saw a little blush on Heather’s face when he had gotten his shirt off.

“So what happened?  There was nothing on the news.”  She said as she washed her hands.

“Trixshot put an arrow through my shoulder.  It hurts like crazy but I think it was just a normal arrow.”

“You hope it was just a normal arrow.  That woman is not in the least bit stable and I wouldn’t put it past her to dope her arrows with something.”

“I just don’t think so, shooting me seemed almost like flirting with me.”

Heather frowned. “This is going to hurt.”

“What’s going to – AAAAH!” Scott screamed out as Heather swabbed the wound with a cotton swab.

“I’ll see if I can get this tested.  Better safe than sorry.  It will take a while, it’s not like we have a crime lab here.”

“Thanks.” Scott said without any warmth, still tense from the sudden pain but he shook it off. “Since you’re here, can you help patch me up?”

Heather frowned, that familiar concerned look on her face.  “Yes.  I said I would.  You never get the stitches anywhere near straight anyway.”  She said with a smirk, side-stepping the difficult conversation and pulling out everything for stitches.  “And I do it quicker and I know you have to get back out there to bring her down.  It’s not like the police have ever been able to deal with her.”  She set to work cleaning and sewing his wound shut.

“Well, like you said, she’s a special kind of crazy.”  Scott said, trying not to show the pain on his face or in his voice.  He was already trying to think where Trixie could have gone and how to get the drop on her.  He was pissed at the shoulder wound which would be hard to hide and hell to deal with for weeks.

“All done.” Heather said, popping everything left over into a bag. “I’ll incinerate the evidence as usual.”

“You’re the best, Heather.  Watch the news to see that whacko locked up, huh?”

“I always do.  Be safe out there.”

“I always am.  Thanks.”

Heather turned around and he was gone again.  She remembered a time early on when he hadn’t been so stealthy.   She was proud of him but at the same time she missed him saying goodbye.  She turned off the lights and headed out the back door.  She tossed the evidence in an old coffee can and dutifully lit it on fire.  She hoped he would be safe out there.  She said a little prayer and sent it out into the world before heading home.

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