Closer Than Your Shadow

Red-Handed in Alcatraz

November 25th 1:04 a.m.
Gotham
147 SE Boulevard

Tattered posters covered the dirty bricks and the few remaining windowpanes of 417 SE Boulevard.

I stepped towards a fractured window and peered inside. The dusty toys were laying on the floor and most of them were smashed or broken. They freaked me out, so I went to go through to the pitch-black alleyway instead.

I scaled up the first flight of stairs of the rusted fire escape and the street grew darker. Just like the jewelry store, the streetlights turned off one by one, leaving me with nothing to see. The whole street went black.

The metal creaked under my weight as I climbed up to the star riddled roof. The moon was only a crescent tonight so practically no light. Just the stars. But stars in Gotham were a rare sight. The pollution and smoke made it almost impossible to see through the smog.

They twinkled and danced as I climbed over the ledge.

The rocks crunched under my sneakers as I crossed the roof.

At first, I couldn't even see him. But then a gust of wind blew his black cape up.

He was standing next to the ledge. His cape whipped behind him and his short hair tussled in the wind. I struggled to see his face. The mask was throwing me off and the stars didn't help.

He was too good at blending into the dark.

He finally looked over but he stayed silent.

"You would pick a creepy old toyshop to meet above. I shouldn't have expected less from you," I whispered as I sat down. There was about 10 feet of distance between us and that's  usually what I preferred when talking to handsy 'vigilantes'.

"Did you bring your phone?" He asked.

"No. You said not too. You never said why though. What was it? Didn't want me to call for help?"

"They could trace you," he said casually.

"Who?"

"The Maroni's. The people you're so scared of."

"I'm not scared of them."

"It's pretty obvious since you lied to them that you are scared."

"You can't be serious. I lied because you made me. I'm more scared of you than some thieves," I said, and I could hear the disbelief in my own fucking voice.

"I didn't make you do anything. You chose to lie. You chose to run home and not tell anyone I was there," he finally turned towards me. "And they're not just thieves. But you know that, don't you,".

"Remember that guy you stabbed at the jewelry store? He has three kids and guess who's taking care of them now? The Maroni's. Didn't you think about them? Do you think of any of that when you put these guys in jail?"

"Don't make them out to be victims. They kill people and you turn your nose up like it doesn't affect you but it puts money in your pocket. That makes you worse. Every single person I've put away from that family has a murder under their belt. Every Maroni does." The voice changer didn't do a good job of concealing his anger.

"How many people have you killed? How many families have you broken up?" I stuttered out not really sure what to say next.

"I don't kill. And as far as I can tell you haven't either." His hard gaze left mine and he walked away. My throat was sore suddenly and all I could think about was his hands around my neck.

"I don't have to explain anything to the guy who gets off on stabbing people. You're a vigilante in Gotham, nothing you do or the people you save matter, because it's just going to happen again the next night. And the next."