Aguilar
Aguilar by Thomas Drakes
Punctuated by the noisy pattering of pearly rain that made the pattern of the black sky into that of a broken television, the city, to one who closed their eyes and allowed themselves to feel it, was breathing- and every breath was huge, a lion’s, and every movement made the rain flow like it was spilling off the back of the sturdy beast. The rain was endless, and so was the city. Every taxi horn blared like a light in a starry sky and every shimmering streetlamp was a muted voice in a crowd. The energy that drove one to go and do connected everyone like a web. New York was a glowing patch in a field, and they were fireflies. To most, it was charming.
Not to Janet Aguilar. She’d seen the undercurrents, and now she knew that the glowing patch was a burning cigarette, and day by day it collected embers in the trash heap. Over the past few weeks, she’d been shaped by the seedy bars and alleyways she spent her nights in. The shell of the bright city girl had given way to her true nature as a nameless vigilante. It was these rainy nights when she unleashed her violent instincts on the dirt under New York’s nails. Everywhere she went, her batons were caked with blood, all to be swept away in the current and replaced by more. When it spilled into the storm drains, she saw her parents’ disgust when she told them why she had bruises, she heard the police yelling “stop,” and it fueled her to go on.
Now, in one of these back alleys, she stood over someone else who was begging her to stop. Her pitch purple mask was pulled so tightly over her face that he could make out her bony features. Gripping the man’s collars, she pulled him up closer to herself and glared into his panicked eyes. She’d beaten them in, so they were purple- most of his face was- it was like a mirror. She never spoke, because if someone recognized her it was all over, so she just exhaled through gritted teeth like she was spitting, making the man yelp and lose his footing. Good. She took the opportunity to kick his knee in. He crumpled, and there was a dull crack as his head hit the pavement.
Then, before she felt the impact, she was on the ground with him. Pain shot up her back and she let out a groan. She’d been hit by cars that hurt her less than the boot print in her back. As she coughed into the mask and struggled to prop herself up on her elbows and knees, a gravelly voice came from behind her.
“Don’t get up.”
It was Kane, another like her. Older. She hadn’t ever made the news, but he was New York’s most notorious vigilante. She’d heard his voice over police radio calls she’d tapped into- after all, she’d been the one to expose his double life. And now he’d found her. She collected herself enough to whip around and brace herself, but he was already standing a few feet away from her. He started moving.
“Do you know what you’ve done?” he said while he paced around her and the crook. His black outfit was torn and dirty- he’d had a longer night than her. The iconic mask was missing- it was probably more comfortable to fight crime without it, and the world knew his face now anyway. “Don’t look at me. Look at him.”
Janet looked down from his face, keeping her fists up, and glared at the man on the ground. He was still and the asphalt shined. She realized why when she pulled her foot out of the blood pooling from his head, recoiling and nearly dropping her batons.
“I know what it looks like,” Kane growled, stepping closer to her. He had an 8-ball on a long and thin rope that he was carefully twirling around his wrist, a practiced motion. Every one of his movements was like that. “When you go too far. When you aren’t cut out for it.”
She glanced around to check that they were alone before she spoke, and when she did, she realized how scared she sounded. “You don’t know me.”
“I do, better than you think,” he said, his head cocked downwards. He was staring at the dead man with a grim expression. “You couldn’t keep it in your pants. You think this is the only person you’ve killed, Aguilar?”
“How do you know my name?”
“You think we’re on a playground?” he spat back at her. “You bash people’s heads in with those batons and run.”
“Maybe he deserved it.” As the words left her gritted teeth, she realized, no, he didn’t.
“That isn’t your call.” Instantly after he said that, Kane’s arm shot out to point at Janet and his pool ball flew into the center of her chest, knocking her off her feet into the brick wall behind her. She slid down onto her rear, flinching as rainwater was kicked up everywhere. When she looked back up, Kane already had the ball back in his grip. His gray beard and scarred features were highlighted by the light coming from the window above them.
He braced his arm back and gave her a deadly look. “You stay there and I leave, because then I know you know you’re done.” He scowled before repeating himself. “You’re done.”
“No!” She feinted him by throwing her feet out towards him, causing him to take a lumbering step backwards, and kicked herself upwards instead, landing on both feet and gripping her batons as tight as ever. Adrenaline surged through her bones. As soon as she landed, she knew he would do something, so she lurched back into the wall. His foot whipped past her face, spraying water across her brow, followed immediately by his other foot. Fancy move- it would have given her a concussion, and so would anything else he threw at her. She stayed on her toes.
“I save lives!” Janet’s eye caught his arm just in time to see it become a pendulum as the rope twisted towards her, and she threw her baton upwards without thinking, knocking the ball out of the air. Pure luck, but she didn’t have time to dwell as his knee went up into her side. She sucked in a breath and moved with it, keeping her guard up as he threw punches at her and drove her back into the wall. She was fistfighting a freight train, but she wouldn’t be run down. She gritted her teeth and pushed off of the wall to shove her forehead into his nose.
Kane yelled and stumbled backwards, blood dripping down his cleft. Janet took the opportunity to lean back on one leg and snap kick him in the chest. Distance, finally. She wouldn’t be waiting for any more second chances. Before she knew it, she was rushing towards an elevated fire escape and doing some fancy gymnastics to get the hell away from him, the one thing she knew he was too old for. Now that she was out of his grasp, she felt in control. In the breadth of the lion’s mane, she blended in with the rainfall again. Her eyebrows clenched in the tight mask again as she shifted her gaze back towards him, and she kept her mouth shut as Kane got up and looked up at her with a grave expression. Remorseful, almost.
She waited for him to speak, but he didn’t. His hand came out from behind his waist holding a gun.