A lone figure stands in front of an appliance store, watching a TV in the window.

“Welcome to the Larsen Channel Seven News. I’m your anchor, Phillip Thyme...”

“...I’m your co-anchor, Paige Webb...”

“...I’m Rudy Day, with the weather...”

“...And I’m Duncan Shot, with sports.”

“Our top story, today: The Gaslight City has been in a state of war for the last six weeks,” began the anchor. “The death of Larsen’s reputed top mobster, Lowell Mohne, also known as ‘Big Wheel,’ has created a power vaccuum that has underlings and rivals vying and dying, in an insane attempt to grab the reigns of power in this gang infested city.

“The list of known mobsters fighting it out for control of the city are: the Blowfish, Paleface, Poker Face, Rubberhead, and even the Recluse – a mob boss who some claim is only an unsubstantiated myth. Several public figures, believed by many to have ties to Larsen’s organized crime families, have also been rumored to be involved in attempts to gain control of the The Gaslight underworld. Chief among them are noted philanthropist Benny Factor, and labor union boss Fortunato Amontillado.

“Adding to the confusion and the violence, a number of vigilantes are apparently waging their own private wars against the gangland forces that are vying for control of the city’s vices. When asked if police were sanctioning these vigilantes, or at least turning a blind eye to their activities, we had this comment, from Chief of Police, Carlin Brown:”

A video clip of the Police Chief plays. He’s at the head of a pack of reporters who are following him right up to the station doors. “Sanctioning? Don’t be ridiculous! As far as I’m concerned, we don’t know any more about these ‘heroes,’ than we do the thugs and gang bosses that are tearing this city apart. For all we know, these vigilantes are after the reins of criminal power for themselves! I’d just as soon take them down, as any gang boss in this city!”

The scene shifts back to Phillip Thyme in the studio. “Strong words, from Police Chief Brown, but are they enough? Already, public opinion seems to be shifting, from support of the police to support of the city’s vigilantes. Our Man In the Street has more.”

“That’s right, Phillip,” chimed Paige as the camera shifted to her. “Mike Rofon is standing by at the sight of what appears to be yet another vigilante action. Mike?”

The scene shifted to a tall brown man in a black wool overcoat, facing the camera with mic in hand. People milled around in the background, some trying to wave at the camera from several feet behind the reporter. “Thank you, Paige. I’m here live, in front of local nightspot, Songbirds, on the scene of what appears to be yet another gruesome slaying, perpetrated by one of the city’s mysterious vigilantes. With me is Rusty Etticut - eyewitness to the horrific events of just a half hour ago. Mister Etticut, can you tell us what happened here?”

A man hyper on the night’s adrenaline started, “Can I? Oh man! It was incredible! BLAM! That was it! The guy didn’t say nothin’, he didn’t take nothin’! One minute, he’s standin’ on the corner, next minute, he gives the chalk outline there a new ‘do, and my car’s got a new paint job! Y’know what he did then? He just strolled on through the crosswalk, like nothing happened, and helps some blind woman across the street! It was crazy, man! The guy was just crazy!”

“Another grim eyewitness account of the vigilante activity on our city streets. With the Larsen Channel Seven News, I’m Mike Rofon. Back to…”

The lone figure turns away from the window, pulling his tattered trenchcoat a little closer, and starts down the street, thoughts livid. Moron. "Crazy," he calls me. What if that parasite had decided to prey on you, next? You ought to thank me. After all, it’s your town too, and I just saved you, as a taxpayer, the cost of a trial, not to mention the daily expense of keeping the scum in jail. I just shot him in the head, like I’d do any sick animal. You just might make it home tonight, because some little hood hears what happened here, and gets scared I’ll do him next. They know if I come down on ‘em, there ain’t no talkin’ their way out of it, because I don’t listen. Anybody who thinks you gotta listen to the badguys talk, while they figure out how to escape, has been readin’ too many comic books. I shoot first, and don’t ask questions. I’m doing you a favor, you little shmuck, because the street punks fear me. They’ve even given me a name… They call me "Scatterbrain."

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Story and characters owned by Chris Bishop, copyright 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022.