Mina Utivich

The diner is almost empty, like it always is. You sometimes wonder how it doesn’t close down. You don’t want it to close cause you love it here, but you still wonder. You scan the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary. There’s a business man in the front booth, another guy alone and an elder couple in a booth, there’s only one waitress and also a guy at the bar. There’s nothing for the AVTF here.

You throw your hands up, as they demand, you don’t want any trouble. You hate them but you don’t want to get in a fight with them, they’re armed and you’re not. Maybe you’d get into a fight with them if you were equally armed. Having a gun would at least level the playing field. You do sometimes think about going on a rampage. Who would stop you? Certainly not those AVTF assholes. Anyways, as of right now, in this exact moment, you’re here for lunch, not for a confrontation.

One of the so-called police officer passes by your table, shouting at everyone, “Where is Frank Castle, huh?”

You don’t reply; The Punisher isn’t here. These fucking dumbasses. They probably got a call and sent all their arsenal here. How stupid are they? Really stupid you figure. Good for them, losing their time is all they deserve.

“Yo! Milkshake! Put your goddamn hands up. Turn around now. Let’s go”

You hear a scream, your head snapping in the direction of the sound to identify the source. There’s a guy bleeding from his eye. Is that a toothpick in his eyeball? What the fuck? Is Punisher here and you just didn’t see him? That guy would be dead already if it was Frank Castle.

Gunshots fill the room, every customers covering their ears because of the sound. AVTF agents have the door guarded, so no one goes for the door.

One of the guy screams, “It’s fucking Bullseye”.

He’s right. There is he. In all his splendour. Bullseye, in his costume, fighting against 10 guys from the AVTF. Well, they’re not fighting, they’re getting their asses handed to them. He’s putting them down one by one. They’re armed to the teeth and they still don’t stand a chance. They’re pathetic.

You never thought that’s how your usual lunch would turn out but you weirdly don’t mind. This is sick, you’ve got a front row seat to vigilante activity. And not just any vigilante, Bullseye. That guy is a maniac. He’s crazy. In the best way.

He’s taking anything he gets his hands on and uses it as a weapon. You look as he bounces a fork and knife on the counter top, before throwing them at a wall so they ricochet and hit two agents in the head. He’s full of tricks.

So far in this massacre, he’s used a toothpick, all ustensiles, a food thermometer, and even a lobster as weapons. This guy is unstoppable. And hot. He’s unstoppably hot, if that’s even something you can say. He stops in front of the booth where the guy is sitting alone. Well, he’s not alone, he’s with his dog, he always is. Bullseye takes his mask off. Oh shit, he’s like truly hot. You see him speaking to the guy for a second. You notice there’s no AVTF agent still standing. Maybe crawling, but not standing. You can’t see them all, but by the absence of noise, you figure they’re all dead or almost- silently and slowly bleeding out.

You eat a few of the fries that are left on your plate and take a napkin from the disposer on your table. You scribble your phone number on it and slide out of your booth. You walk to the door, where Bullseye is standing, a bottle of ketchup in hand.

“Wait!”, you say and he turns to look at you. You hand him the napkin with your number on it. He raises an eyebrow your way.

“Call me, handsome”, you wink.

For the first time, Bullseye is actually speechless. He thinks you can maybe match his crazy. Match his freak.

You walk out the door as if nothing happened. As if your usual Wednesday lunch at the diner didn’t just turn into a bloody massacre. As if you didn’t just hand your number to a manic, a psychopath, a stalker, a killer.

He looks at you go before securing the napkin in his pocket. He draws his logo on the door using the ketchup, drops the bottle to the floor and walks out.

He jogs to meet you in the parking. “Are you for real?”

“Yeah, call me. That was hot as fuck.”

He nods to himself, satisfied with your answer. He’d lie if he said he wasn’t happy with the praise. A gorgeous girl like you completing one of his good deeds? Yeah, you probably aren’t completely sain, but to hell with it- a win is a win.

Your answer confirms his theory: you totally match his freak.

You walk to your car and unlock it. You nod his way, “You need a ride somewhere?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” If you’re offering, he won’t refuse.

You get in the driver’s seat and he opens your passenger door. He gets in. You’ve got a hot vigilante sitting next to you, in your car. Like, a really hot vigilante. You shake your head and start your car. This is a crime scene, you need to leave. Now.

You put it on Drive and get out of the parking, avoiding the best you can the AVTF trucks that are still there. Once you get out of the parking, you look his way, “Where to?”

He directs you to a not-so-sketchy neighbourhood. This is not where you imagined Bullseye living, but you keep your comments to yourself. He points to an alley between two buildings.

“You can go in that alley. I’ll get in the building from the back.”

“Sure.” You follow his instructions, stopping the car in the alley behind the building he points.

He looks at you. You look at him. He’s got a small cut on his left eyebrow, the blood just starting to dry. There’s a scar on his right cheek, there’s probably a good story behind it. You want to ask him but this clearly isn’t the time.

You look into his eyes, unable to tell the colour. He’s looking into yours intensely in return. It’s stronger than you, you want to kiss him. Kiss him? You’re thinking about kissing the guy you just witnessed murdering about 10 guys. This is crazy. Are you crazy? Yes, yes you are. Kissing him is the only thing on your mind right now. Not the fact that you’re now technically his accomplice for driving him away from the crime scene. Not the fact that you’re sitting next to a cold-blooded murderer, that could literally kill you in an instant if he decided to. No. You’re thinking about kissing him. You wonder how his chapped lips would feel on yours. How he would taste like.

He must be thinking the same thing as you cause he grabs your face and smashes his mouth on yours.

It’s rough and it tastes like blood but you don’t care. This is so hot. You’re like his partner in crime now. That excites you. You’ve never felt more alive then now. In this moment. You’re kissing a vigilante after helping him run away from his crime scene. You left several bodies behind when you drove away. This is absolutely crazy but don’t care. You love it.

He pulls back, “I would really stay and continue this, but I need to go. I’ll see you around.”

You’re speechless for a moment, still absorbing what just happened. You just kissed Bullseye, your favourite vigilante. You wouldn’t tell him, but it’s true. You’ve been following vigilante activity and there’s just no one like Bullseye.

He gets out the car, you shout at him before the door closes.

“You better call me!”

He pokes his head down to meet your eyes.

“You bet I will. Take care, gorgeous”

He closes the passenger door and you see him going up the fire escape. What just happened? Your weekly lunch at the diner just turned into a feisty make-out session with Bullseye in your car, in a back alley. You even gave him your number but would he use it? That, you aren’t so sure. When you regain control of your body, you put your car in Drive and slowly drive out of the alley.

Your phone buzzes in the cupboard. A text from an unknown number. You break before you reach the street and pick up your phone to read it.

Dinner Friday. My place. 7pm. Text me if you’re in trouble in the meantime.

You’ve got your answer now. He didn’t lose a moment before using your number and now you have a date. A date with the devil.

——