Fascinating Villains

{1} - Paramedicine

I stare at a ray of sun, gleaming against the black countertop, suddenly startled out of my thoughts by the detonation of my toaster. I spin around and pull out the slices of bread from the small chrome machine, dropping them onto the cutting board before the heat singes my fingerprints off. I twist the peanut butter jar's lid open, distractedly humming along with the music on the radio. I scoop out an appropriate amount of the spread with a knife and begin covering my two pieces of bread. I glance at the television, midway through my task, catching only a few words.

"Last night... Another victim... Assault... Non-binary... Gender-based violence..."

Not again... I put my knife down, quickly travelling over to the other side of the room to reach the monitor and turn the screen off. Despite my efforts, a knot has formed in my stomach already and I sigh. The world is a terrible place, I should not be surprised, but sometimes I can not bear those gruesome news reports, regardless of my usual interest for them. I pack my lunch in record time, eventually shutting my radio down. In the silence of my apartment, lit up solely by the rising sun beyond my living room's two windows, I pick my coat up. I slip it over my button-down dark turquoise green shirt, adjusting my cargo pants of the same shade. My autumnal coat is a loose, black tweed paletot, so the colors aren't too jarring when they are matched together. Once I'm done putting on my work boots, I stand in front of the mirror which hangs from the end of the wall that separates my kitchen from the small lobby. There is a small hallway type table underneath it, where I keep my keys and other useful items. I set my eyes into my reflection's determined gaze.

I can do this. You can do this. Today is going to go well. You'll be fine, just do your best. I will do my best. I try to motivate myself every day before my shift, even though I feel slightly stupid when I am doing it. Still, who have I got besides myself? If I don't take myself seriously, no one ever will.

I run my hand through my short dark brown hair, ruffling the wavy strands so they do not fall flat on my forehead and instead gain a little volume. The greatest thing about an undercut is that I never have to worry about the sides of my head, since I get them shaved every four months or so. I swing my backpack upon my shoulders, straightening my back furthermore. I look at the time thanks to my digital watch: 7h51 AM. Fiddling with my dark silver key-chain, I unlock my front door and step out into the morning air, greeted by the cacophonous melody of Gotham City.

As I descend the outdoor metallic staircase that leads from the fifth floor of the apartment building to the fourth, then the third, and so on until it stops at ground level where we the residents - such as myself - can access a medium-sized parking lot, I hear the blaring sirens of a police car in the distance. Within a few seconds, it is speeding down the street and towards whatever criminal activity they will attempt to put an end to at this fine hour. I cannot help but scoff under my breath at the sight of the flashing blue and red lights. Needless to say, cops are not my favorite people in the world.

Most ordinary citizens would probably not understand this at first. I mean, I am a paramedic, am I not? I save lives and rush the injured or dying to the hospital, alongside the heroic law enforcement workers who protect the innocent and fight unlawful individuals. Health and lawfulness go hand in hand, they are established organisations, crucial to preserve safety. Medical clinics and police stations should be considered the safest of places in any city. Protectors and healers. Saviors. So, why is it that I generally dislike the forces of order? The majority of police officers I have met in my 22 years of life belonged to either of two categories: trigger-happy maniacs who make the hastiest conclusions I have ever witnessed or lazy opportunists who sit behind a desk and hide beyond the walls of administration to pull the strings of their greedy empire. Perhaps I'm exaggerating, but even those who follow every rule in the book contribute to the problem... If I am trying to help an injured person, the last thing I need is a bunch of zealous or aggressive officers to stress out my patient. How am I supposed to tend to someone's well-being if they are driven to distrust me?