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?

I wave at my upstairs neighbors, who are speaking together, leaning against the side of their classic collector car. Joseph apparently started smoking again and has a cigarette pinched between his lips, which he is busy lighting up with an old-school lighter. His husband gestures back at me with a friendly smile, which I gladly return. The two men may be in their forties, but they are the nicest people I have encountered ever since I moved here. Sometimes, the couple invites me over to their apartment to watch hurling games with them, which always turns out to be a lovely way of spending my evening.

I settle into my electric car, fasten my seat belt and insert my keys into the ignition. Okay, Gotham General Hospital, here I come.

Anyone who has ever watched the news in their life would probably argue that Gotham City is the worst city on Earth. Objectively, it is. There are few places on our planet that can rival its profoundly corrupt government and increasingly criminally-inclined population. Yet, I willingly moved here. The thing about Gotham is that if you're running away from something, rare are those who will dare to come looking for you here. Freedom is so coveted that many people would rather live in a lawless city infested with darkness than remain chained to their past. If you escape to Gotham City, no one in their right mind will risk their life to follow and harass you. What's truly wonderful about this hypothesis is its exactitude. I would know... After all, it worked like a charm for me. For once in my lifetime, appearances did not harm me.

Speaking of... I enter the hospital using one of many backdoors that are meant for staff members such as myself. Unfortunately, I instantly cross paths with Dr. Russell.

"Constanza. How are you?" I think he's trying to seem polite, but his tone clearly expresses that he dislikes me.

"Good, what about you?"

"Oh, well, the life of a doctor is not easy, but I manage. Hopefully, I will not be seeing you around."

Super funny.

"Right." I force a smirk and walk faster towards the EMTs' common room.

He is one of the snobbiest doctors I have ever worked with, and I usually would not let someone pretend to tolerate me, however he is my superior and this job is much too important for me to risk everything. So, confronting him will have to wait. Meanwhile, I can nod whenever I catch a few nurses speaking behind his back. Surprisingly, that's good enough. I turn a corner and tug on the straps of my bag, bracing myself for my day. 12 hours surely is not that long... I should be able to convince myself that it will go by faster than I can anticipate.

~

I scribble the last letter of the word 'era' into a square, slightly distracted by the smooth distribution of the navy ink across the newsprint. My pupils drift up from the New York Times Crossword puzzle to hover above the date, printed in the top right corner of the page. 'October 19th', which signifies there is only one week left before my birthday. I glimpse at the time on my watch, relieved that it is not too late after noon yet, but rather an acceptable 12h09 PM.

The breeze blows a few orange and yellow leaves, which somersault against the gray concrete sidewalk. They divert my attention and I find myself watching the bustling coffee shop that stands proudly on the other side of the street, three blocks away. I actually never went inside Dark Crumbs Coffee, despite taking my breaks near it during all my shifts. I bet it is a lovely establishment, if only judging by its popularity, but I am not a huge fan of coffee. I never drink the widely loved beverage, no matter how tired I get or how enthusiastically and routinely my father drank it. Medically, the infused liquid is terrible for a person's health and, undoubtedly, health is one of my main priorities. I mean, I am a paramedic, for crying out loud..! That is aimed at my downstairs neighbor Joanne, who always tries to get me to buy her 'life-altering' self-made coffee when I see her. To be fair, I am pretty certain she is a drug dealer, but my argument still stands.