As Darkness Falls

Chapter 1

         The moon hung large in the sky awaiting her next move.

          Her routine was the same. It would continue for many nights with little time for rest. She didn't mind. It helps her stay in control, muscle memories moving her throughout the night. Her long black sleeves and dark pants kept her among the shadows as she traversed the city. Her city. Not large enough to cause much attention but not small enough to be peaceful, she took it upon herself to do what she could to lessen the burden of the underfunded and understaffed police department. There was no big city charm to this place, just dark alleys and dimly lit corner stores. It was a place where the only decent paying jobs were in the shipyards on the outskirts of town, so whoever didn't choose that life chose a less legal means of paying the bills. But no one cared. Your money was your own until it was someone else's, and if you didn't accept that then you couldn't survive here. It's just that simple.

       She moved with a rhythm that echoed elegance, like a ballet dancer gracefully performing a well-practiced routine. In one alley, out the next. Check for onlookers. Clear the area. Rinse and repeat. She gave off an aura of confidence, never carelessness. Her routine worked because it was just that: a routine. Any break in her movements could not be controlled, so she would stay on this well worn path until she digs herself so far into the ground she cannot see the sun. In one alley, out the next. Rinse and repeat. She felt her consciousness drift away as her body moved without any command. Rinse and repeat.

       The familiar apartment complex welcomed her as she approached its front steps. Not to say that it was welcoming, it turned most away at first glance. Constructed decades before her time, its decaying bricks were more brown than they were red, stained with years of neglect. She glanced at the names written next to the buzzer. Robin Emse, 503. Her apartment. She walked up the stairs taking two steps at a time, counting the floors as she passed them. One, two, three, four, five. As she entered she began peeling off her layers of clothes. Not too dirty this time, she congratulated herself. First to leave her was her mask. It was an old leather crow-shaped mask that mimicked what plague doctors would wear to protect themselves from the tainted, disease riddled air. The mask covered her entire face, its long beak stretching out in front of her so far it almost obscured her vision. A little dramatic yes, but she would permit herself this one sense of identity to cling to as she covered everything else about her. Plus it was free, "borrowed" from the theatre department of her former high school. She tried to convince herself that she would give it back, but after a while Robin realized she honestly didn't care enough. They wouldn't need it anyway; their so-called productions were never worth watching and that wouldn't change whether they had the mask or not.

        Once the mask was off, Robin retrieved the shoebox she kept in the top of her coat closet and carefully placed it inside, rising to the tips of her toes to reach the highest shelf. She entered her mangy bedroom and threw her tight turtleneck and pants in the general direction of her laundry hamper. Another late night with soon-to-be sore muscles, she thought as she rolled her head from shoulder to shoulder. Robin sighed, exasperated at the thought of doing laundry at this time of night. Tomorrow, she told herself. That can wait until tomorrow.

       Robin fell back onto her bed and stared at the ceiling, admiring the cracks and crevices that made it unique. Glancing at the alarm clock to her right, she realized just how late it actually was. 02:03 a.m. Could be later, she thought. Tonight was one of the few peaceful nights she encountered. Robin had patrolled her alleyways, streets, and dead ends just like she always does, but was met with little to no malfeasance. Although she loved her city, she had little confidence that this downturn in crime had anything to do with the police stopping crime or the people finding morality. If anything, it could be that word has spread of her presence and criminals were avoiding where she was known to strike. But she wouldn't flatter herself; if she was so infamous there would be more talk about a crow masked vigilante terrorizing the streets. More likely she just needed to expand her territory, move to busier streets and darker alleys. It could just be chance. Maybe as colder weather approaches even the thieves are staying off the streets.

       Whatever the reason, she couldn't care less at the moment. Robin heaved herself off her bed and went to start a shower. She appraised herself as she walked by the mirror in her small bathroom. She pulled her hair out of the tight bun it was tied into, and shook out her short black curls, massaging her scalp. Her brown skin contrasted with the harsh white tiles behind her, and her dark eyes seemed more devoid of color in this blinding light. With a huff, she blew a stray curl out of her face, and turned to start the shower with the knowledge that no matter how far she turned the nob, it wouldn't get quite hot enough. Robin stepped into the lukewarm water and closed her eyes, letting the drops coming from the water pressure that wasn't quite high enough roll down her face. She washed herself with soap that wasn't quite clean enough. In her apartment that wasn't quite big enough. With a job that didn't quite pay enough.

      Robin laid in a bed that wasn't quite soft enough, under a blanket that wasn't quite warm enough. Some nights ended like this. With thoughts about her mediocre life, her mediocre purpose. Some nights weren't quite like this. Sometimes she felt like the city needed her; when she fought for those who probably didn't deserve it, or when she took a life that definitely deserved it, she felt important. She could see the impact she made with her own two hands in front of her. But some nights ended like this. After hours of perusing the streets, only to come home empty handed with an empty wallet. But of course, who can trust their own mind at 2:32 in the morning. Robin set her alarm for 9 a.m. and shooed away the thoughts that were nagging her, as she fell into what would hopefully be a restful sleep.