Man of the People Chapter 1

Templar watched in silence from the dark shadows of the crumbling window ledge. Three floors below, the gang were loading up their truck. He stepped forward and dropped.

Vince blew a cloud of smoke into the cold night air, hoping the others could see how relaxed he looked. The gun, cradled lovingly in his arms, made him feel invulnerable. Glancing upwards, that feeling was lost to alarm.

The figure dropping from the third floor was a surreal sight. The man looked like a crusading night, complete with bucket helmet and red crossed tabard. All he was missing was a sword.

Templar landed silently, knees bending to absorb the impact, then he was moving.

Vince was bringing his weapon up and trying to shout a warning at the same time. He failed on both counts. The gun was ripped from his grasp, his trigger finger snapping agonisingly on the guard. The pain caused him to catch a breath and then there was darkness as his head slammed back into the wall.

Two more gunmen were keeping watch as their three associates loaded the stolen pharmaceuticals into the back of a truck; more raw materials for Britain’s ever expanding drug trade. Another man stood next to a car a few meters away, speaking quietly into his telephone.

Templar checked his helm display to make sure the call and number were being recorded; he wouldn’t strike until he was sure he hadn’t missed out on some valuable information.

Adam Pearson smiled as he ended the call; the boss was pleased and that meant life was good for him. “Come on lads, we haven’t got all night. He wants it all put to bed as soon as poss.”

Pearson looked for Vince but he’d disappeared; typical of the prat. Whistling into the shadows, Pearson received no reply. Where were Roberts and Wez? His stomach tightened. Instinctively, he lifted his rifle as he scanned the shadows. Nothing. Then the rattle of a tin can caused him to turn suddenly. A rat scuttled into view. That was when he saw the small silver disk spinning through the air towards him and the three men loading the truck.

The training kicked in; Pearson turned and dived, just as the flash-bang hit. Quick reactions and a passing rat had saved him, but for how long? He rolled over in time to see a man looking like a medieval knight attacking the stunned men. The armoured attacker moved with surprising speed and grace, sending two of the gang to the floor in simultaneous back handed strikes. The third man drunkenly went for his gun but fell, screaming when a gauntleted hand grabbed his arm and a there was an audible crack.

Templar was irritated, the rat had given the leader time to react; the flash-bang should have put him out of the game. His irritation cost the stumbling robber a broken arm; Templar didn’t have the time or inclination to be gentle now.

Pearson wasn’t a man to be easily shaken; the Parachute Regiment and a few years in prison had seen to that. Fight until you drop, and then bite the bastard’s ankle, that was his view on life. He’d reached for the grenade even as he dived, pulling the pin as he landed and sending it spinning along the ground.

The last man hit the floor screaming just as the vigilante’s proximity alarm went off. “Shit!” Templar moved fast. If the grenade hadn’t been so close to detonation when it was thrown he would have been clear.

Vicious shrapnel filled the air, ripping into the bodies of the unconscious and incapacitated robbers and hammering into the vigilante’s armoured form.

The force of the explosion sent Templar reeling into the back of the half filled truck although it did little more than disorient him. The shrapnel was a different matter: the jagged metal fragments bounced off rigid alloy plates but dug into the softer areas in between. For Mark Stoner, this was where Templar ended and he began. Inside the soft electronic glow of the helmet, he gasped.

Pearson couldn’t believe his luck; kill this prick and he would surely be a rising star. He’d had time to gather his thoughts and he remembered seeing something about a new vigilante who’d been causing problems for some of their operations. This bloke certainly matched the descriptions and right now he was trying to scramble out of the back of the truck. Judging by the way he moved he was hurting.

Looking up, and fighting the screaming pain in his ribs, Templar saw the last gunman smile as he took aim with what his helmet identified as an SA80 assault rifle. With inhuman speed he flung his arm out, launching another flash-bang just as the muzzle of the gun flared brightly.

Pearson just had time to flick the rifle onto full auto before opening fire; on instinct, he aimed for the head.

A volley of bullets hit Templar milliseconds before the flash-bang blinded and stunned the gunman. The impacts were audible and scrambled his displays, although he still maintained normal vision. Thank God the man could shoot. Had a bullet hit his body there was a real chance one could have found a gap and got through--the helmet was a hard point. Just as Templar was counting himself lucky, a spray of bullets raked his upper torso. The robber’s finger was still on the trigger as he fell.

Templar hit the floor and rolled under the truck, very aware of the stabbing pain in his abdomen. Things hadn’t exactly gone to plan but it was time to leave anyway.

The sirens and helicopter were still far off as Pearson rubbed his eyes. The vigilante…Templar, was gone. The job had gone to bollocks but this was one to tell the boys. He might not have made any money tonight but he’d certainly made an impression. The boss should be pleased.

A few miles away, Janet Porter sat in an underground workshop, staring down a long corridor, willing the door at the end to open. Normally she would try to keep busy but tonight she was worried. Why hadn’t he checked in yet? A coded signal was all she needed. Is this what she had worked so hard for?

Janet jumped at the sudden chunk as the heavy door opened and the bedraggled figure of Templar appeared. She leapt from her seat and ran to meet him as he walked towards her, holding his stomach as he moved.

“It’s okay, it’s not as bad as it looks.” The harsh voice was Templar’s, strong and commanding.

“Here, get on the table and take that helmet off.” She spoke into a microphone clipped to her collar, “Kenny, we need you in the lab.”

“I think…no, I know I’ve been shot. I don’t think it’s too bad though; my vitals sign are steady.

Templar removed his helmet to reveal the rugged face of a man accustomed to violence. Mark lay down on the examination table while Janet expertly removed his armoured exoskeleton. There was little of the knight's tabard to remove, other than some ragged strips. “You’re covered in gouges, there’s even some metal fragments stuck in your plating. What happened? No forget that, we’ll talk about that later. Let’s have a look at this wound.” She sighed, “Or should I say wounds. Christ Mark, you’re not a tank. What the hell have you been doing?”

“Ah, I was unlucky, things went a bit…”

“Bloody hell! What happened to you, you silly bastard?” A bear of a man dressed in a suit entered the room, removing his jacket as he walked.

“He’s been forgetting to dodge by the looks of things. If it hadn’t been for the under-suit he’d have been badly hurt. Idiot!”

“I don’t know what’s worse, the people who are trying to kill me or the support of my friends I….” Mark Stoner gritted his teeth as pain blossomed in his abdomen.

“Stay still. Kenny, pass me that tray please. The bullet didn’t get through the lining; it skidded off one of the abdominal plates and then hit the fabric. What you have inside you is the material itself and not the bullet; it didn't get very deep at all. Actually, the bodysuit’s worked really well, look Kenny.”

“Oh yeah, that’s a nice clean wound that is.”

“I got the idea from the Mongols, they used to wear silk undershirts so that if an arrow pierced their armour, the head itself could be pulled out by the silk without risk of infection from the head. The silk wouldn’t usually split you…”

“When you two have finished being impressed I’d appreciate a bit of attention. I’ve still got a hole in me you know.” He gritted his teeth again at a fresh stab of pain.

Kenny’s large hand rested on his chest as he smiled down at him, “That’s it lad, control it.”

“If you two didn’t have this macho, no anaesthetic attitude this’d be a lot easier.” Janet spoke as she reached for a needle to stitch the wound.

Mark inhaled and put his hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, “I never needed pain killers before the suit and I’m not starting now. The day I do is the day I retire.”

“Why? You’d heal quicker. Surely that appeals, even to a masochist like you.”

“Back when I was just a bloke in a mask I used to get some really bad beatings but I never gave in, that’s how I survived. There’s no difference now; just because I’m wearing that lot,” He pointed to the armoured exoskeleton on the table next to him, “it doesn’t mean that I can afford to give in to anything. One day it’ll let me down and I’ll have nothing to rely on but me. When that happens I need to be ready.”

“Well, it’s your choice but I still say you’ve watched too many movies.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll let all of the pain out the next time I see the prick who did this, Pearson wasn’t it?”

“That’s him, an ambitious lad too. But don't be vindictive Marky, he was supposed to get away remember; you just helped him feel as though he'd scored some real points.” Kenny smiled down, a familiar sarcastic grin on his face.

“Yeah, well I deserve an Oscar for my efforts tonight, he certainly was convinced he won. I did manage to tag his car with a homing beacon though once he thought I’d gone. Tell me you’re getting a signal.”

“Oh, we’re getting a signal alright but that’s not important now. That phone call you managed to get hold of was priceless. I’m just glad you transmitted it before you started getting yourself shot in the head, it plays havoc with the comm system you know. Poor Janny’s been worried sick about you.”

“About the suit actually, I’ve spent too much time and money for him to let it get wrecked.” Janet made her point by tugging the last stitch she was busy with a bit harder than was necessary.

Mark made a point of ignoring the gesture, “So what did you get? Are we any closer to finding Romeo?”

Kenny grinned, “Time, place and event mate. You did good, regardless of your little mistakes tonight. The question is: Can you take the big man out? I have to say I’m not feeling too confident at the moment.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been after that evil shit for too long to mess up a chance to stop him. Just give me the details.”