crayon on the walls

 These parts of the city were often left to disarray. Nobody wanted to take accountability or acknowledge that the people here, struggling silently in poverty, were continuously pushed down by the system. In fact it was easier for the media to contribute the sudden surge in deaths around this neighborhood to drug overdoses then to a sickness seeping through the city. Your nose turned up at the sudden scent that caught in the wind. It was sickly sweet. Rotting. Another one. Even as your stomach tied and untied itself in unnatural knots you steadied yourself, eyes surveying for anything out of the ordinary. The nip that once bit at your skin through the thin suit seemed to still. 

 Unfortunate innocents were popping up throughout the city dead, yet police seemed to ignore them. There wasn’t any immediate sign of foul play and to ring alarm bells for people higher ups would rather ignore seemed like a sure way to lose funding. A stray reporter brought it up at a press conference just last April. Officials stated that to waste resources on a non-existence issue would be useless and the subject was dropped soon after. Sharp and keen eyes and nose continued to survey, attempting to narrow in on the distinct smell. There. Garbage bags piled up oddly. They were stacked higher than most. A hand limply hanging out amongst a few broken wood boards. Your heart found itself lodged somewhere deep in your throat as you stepped closer. You reached out for those calloused and cold fingers, bile threatening to burn and bubble up through your throat.

Whoever had done this hadn’t even given them the dignity of fully hiding them. Even with the blatant signs of death your fingers made their way to the cold wrist, a ridiculous hope for a pulse. You weren’t entirely sure what you expected but it stung none the less finding nothing but cold skin. 

You gently pulled them by the wrist, freeing them from everything piled on top. An older man, wrinkles prominent on the pale blueish skin. You had to keep your breathing steady as you searched through the pockets of the man for any form of identification. Your day to day usually consisted of preventing deaths and robberies. You were well over your head and the new abundance of deaths you’d witnessed in the week alone left tears welling at the corners of your eyes, quickly getting absorbed into the fabric covering your face.

 In his inner coat pocket there was a state ID with the label veteran proudly displayed as well as a few crumpled single bills. This caught your attention. Most of the prior bodies were left with no form of identification. Your alternative to putting a name to the face was crudely photographing the body and surroundings. You’d opted to ultimately stop using the damned device unless necessary as a result. Those faces. They were haunting.  The hair on the back of your neck prickled. Something or somebody was watching. Spinning around on your heel you locked eyes with a looming figure, high up on fire escapes, peering. They pivoted to run but you were quick to pursue. Thick webs propelled yourself forward. A small doubt gnawed away at the inner most corners of your mind. Chasing after strangers was useless, especially strangers you had no real proof of being related to.

Maybe it had been weeks without any real lead. Just people disappearing and reappearing dead. The stress and lack of sleep. The nights you had to search through every corner of the internet for even a hint of who these people were. Spend days outside of work and college lectures begging people off the street if they knew those faces. A larger part of you seemed to scream the obvious answer. Maybe it was the fact that masked figures don’t watch crime scenes quietly. They most certainly don't hide or run when caught either.

The sheer force whipped cold air at you. A loud clang rattled out in the night as you gribbed onto the fire escape, swinging yourself up and over onto the roof. The figure, already atop, backed away, boots crunching against the gravel as they assessed your behavior. 

The proximity allowed you to fully take in who you were dealing with. The most striking feature was the intricate white mask. It was elongated, almost bird-like if it weren’t for the flatness of it. Deep eye sockets, meshed out, concealed the stranger hiding beneath. Aside from the mask there wasn’t anything out of place about them. Just an androgynous sweatshirt and joggers. The mask was no less unsettling however.

“I’m not trying to fight tonight. I just need you to help me understand what’s going on.” Your hands raised into the air, a useless attempt at peace. The wind whipped loose fabric around harshly, interrupting the otherwise fruitless silence. Suddenly without warning they moved towards the edge of the building. 

You were quick to follow, hot on their tail. Within a moment the stranger was flinging themselves off the 20 story building. Your stomach sank like it had leapt with them. Your hands stretched out before your mind could catch up, sticky webbing just barely coating the side of their wrist as you peered down at the expanse below you. A deep and relieved exhale released through your nose, puffing smoke into the chilly air.

“Normally it’s advised not to revisit the scene of your crime.” Your voice seemed to cut through the still night air with an unexpected bite. It took even yourself by surprise. You sounded bitter and tired. “I want to know why. What’s so important you’d risk your life to protect.” You pulled the figure over, your hand finding their wrist only to flip them onto their back. A soft wheeze escaped them as the air from their lungs pushed its way out. 

They lied there, regaining their composure before trying to get back up. Just as quickly as they attempted to get up, was their hand now stuck to the gravel with sticky mesh. Even in the clear disadvantage there was silence. No move for explanation. This charade was tiring and the night was stretching on with nothing to show for it.

You straightened up to further interrogate them when they’re posture went rigid. With sudden labored breaths this stranger was now attempting to scramble backwards. They were no longer looking at you but instead past you. Your eyes narrowed before following their line of sight. Off in the opposite direction, the neighboring apartment building, a white shape peered back.

How many more visitors were you gonna get tonight? As you glanced back towards your oddly silent companion you were met with a now slumped body. The light casted down from the moon reflected on the small metallic item embedded into the skull of your would be suspect. Now they’re lifeless and offer no more than what you’d started the night off with. 

The sound of footsteps on gravel behind made you spin on your heel. Basked in starlight, the brooding and lean man seemed on edge. He wasn’t a stranger but he was far from an acquaintance either. Distant sirens and nightlife filled the silence. He watched you tense and untense, trying to figure out just what to say.

Even through the mask his jaw ticked, frustration laced in his voice. 

“Stay out of my way. You’re meddling in things above your understanding.” There wasn’t room for discussion in his comment. 

Your brows furrowed in response. “I’m not trying to step on your toes. I want the same as you do.” Your voice was softer than it was a few moments ago. You could feel his gaze burn into your back as you turned to search the limp body. Anything would help really. Your fingers slipped below the mask, pulling upwards on the heavy ceramic craft to reveal a young woman, at worst in her early 30’s. A further investigation through her belongings would bring nothing of value however. 

“Wasted enough of our time yet? They don’t carry identification if that’s what you're looking for. Wiped clean from media.” His voice cut through, gruff and startling. You were about to grumble when your head whipped towards the man. What a peculiar thing to state.

“They? Are we talking about multiple?” Your legs screamed as you stood from the previous squatting position. He took a deep breath in, as if steadying himself before he decided to ultimately toss you off the building. 

“We aren’t talking about anything.” He moved past you abruptly, shoulder bouncing off of your own. With a swift movement the small metallic item was now returned to his hand, revealing a crescent shape. It would be pretty if it weren't for the unsightly substance on it. With that he began to walk away

“Y’know you're not any better. You aren’t some godly hero. You kill people that happen to be criminals. I don’t know you, I'm not asking to have a sleepover after school, I'm asking for a little help so I can do the one thing I know how too.” Your voice was firm as you began to trail behind. His methods were far from agreeable. Where was the line drawn between what did and didn’t deserve brutality. How could you tell one man not to kill in the name of moral, ethics, or goals, and condone another. 

Even so, through all the bitterness you didn’t hate the man. Didn’t even dislike him. At the end of the day, he did what the justice system couldn’t. He kept rapists and killers off the streets for good. You’d seen the good he’s done and provided to the city. Your methods were just drastically different. 

His movement paused, as if contemplating something. You almost walked straight into his back at the abruptness. “Shut up.” His voice wasn’t hard, more annoyed, as if swatting at a fly.

Your eyes narrowed. “Are you ser-” You were quickly cut off from your would be ramble.

“I’m not talking to you.” His response was short with no explanation offered. He only grumbled shortly after, as if having a one sided conversation with the air. You were left dumbfounded. How could someone blatantly lie to your face? It was childish. He was supposed to be this put together savior. Sure you couldn't even begin to recall his name but this was far from what you expected from someone so confident in their talents. “Fine.”

“Oh is that one for me this time? Or were you talking to the moon?” Your voice was light despite the sarcastic comment. He peered over his broad shoulder, and you could feel the sudden uncomfortable gaze as he stared daggers at you. He clearly didn’t find your comment amusing. 

“I have to finish patrolling. Come back early tomorrow night. Eleven.” His response was met with a resume in his walk. 

“So you’re gonna help me?” Electricity shot through your body with excitement. Doing this alone was getting you nowhere but maybe more than one set of eyes and ears around the city could finally allow a peek into just how deep this sickness had run. 

“I’m considering it.” With that he left no room for conversation as he was already leaping off the roof top. There was now nothing but the body on the roof and distant sirens to keep you company.