Captain Metropolis
All the two bodies had in common was they were both homeless and beaten to death. It was a big city. These things happened. Then, a third was found. This one had military tattoos, and research showed that the first two had also been veterans.
It could be coincidence. If the forensics team had struggled to find out who the men were, it was unlikely that they had been targeted for their military background. Still, someone was killing homeless men and there wasn't a lot the police could do. They put the word out to shelters, to get inside, to not go out alone if possible. They didn't know what exactly to warn against, and if they had seen the carload of college students cruising the streets, they wouldn't have suspected.
The kids were home for a holiday weekend and strutting around in one of their big brother's car. They had cleats and ball bats and were out late looking for fun. They all had rich parents, doctors and lawyers and minor politicians. All five of them were self-assured and laughing as they drove into darker parts of town.
They loved this. They had to behave their whole lives, smiling for parents they wanted money from, apologizing to girlfriends they would rather rape, sucking up to teachers they would've punched. They didn't have to do any of that when they were out together. Young, strong, and untouchable, they didn't have to answer to anyone. They were free.
So when they found the old man under the overpass, they pulled over. His eyes were wary. He didn't speak as they got out, but he shifted like a cat about to pounce or bolt. They fanned out to block him. He was cornered. They laughed, swinging the bats loosely in their fists.
"Look at what we have here," they said, smacking the bats into their palms. "We could smell you from the interstate." They were in perfect sync, like a hunting pack.
"Still got your tags," they said, boyish grins going feral. "Shoulda died over there if this is all you were going to do with your life."
Behind them, the big brother's car squealed as the roof folded inwards. The boys spun to see what had hit them, but the street was still empty. The windshield spiderwebbed, then shattered. While the boys gaped, the tires exploded one after the other. The engine burst into flames, sending fire to the underside of the overpass.
The homeless man was gone and the street was black as midnight in each direction. No streetlights, no neon, no distant windows. The only light left in the whole world was the burning car.
"What?!" screamed one."WHAT?!" He grabbed at his closest friend and was shoved away and sworn at. He lashed back in his fear and a third screamed at them both to stop it, damn it, it wasn't happening. They weren't a pack anymore. They were scared and scrambling.
"Where is that guy?" One was holding onto anger.
"My brother is going to kill me!" wailed the driver.
"Shut up!" screamed the third again. "SHUTUPSHUTUP!" The driver tried to grab his arm and he swung the bat. It smashed the driver's temple and he collapsed to the pavement. The others all stared, silent and bug-eyed. The killer looked around at all of them.
In that terrible hush, they all heard it. Somewhere out in the darkness, foot steps were approaching. It sounded like boots, slow, steady, and inevitable as guilt. It sounded like authority.
"You can't- you can't-" sputtered one.
"STOP IT!" the third roared. "IT WAS YOU TOO! YOU DID IT TOO!"
"Not that!" He pointed at their dead friend. "You did that!"
"SHUT UP!"
"OR WHAT?" There was a shove and a stagger and the bat swung again. This time it hit the boy's jaw and sent him sprawling. The first pounded him with the bat, swinging it with both hands. The others tried to stop him and he turned on them. He broke one of his friend's arms and smashed in another one's nose. The last one had managed to hit him back and only drove him crazier. He beat them all in turn until he was exhausted and sobbing and covered in their blood.
The steps were still coming and he whirled to face it. He smoothed a hand over his hair to look presentable. The figure was a man who struck a sharp military salute towards the street. He had no head. The boy screamed and the dark cleared. A police car was there and the homeless man was pointing at him from a phone booth.