Nightmares

12:25

Cole looked at the alarm clock next to his bed. The horrid red display read "11:58." He slipped from underneath the covers, knowing that by this time his family would be asleep.

He slipped on the gloves— black with neon green reflectors. They fit tightly, like surgical gloves, which, in a sense they were. He was embarking on a journey to cut the cancer from his city. He reached into the closet, a few feet from his shabby twin bed, and pulled out a battered duffel bag. He withdrew more apparel. He slipped on a bathrobe, black, and with the sleeves cut off, as it had become too small. It was scarcely more than a shirt, but with the belt wrapped around, it fit snugly, but allowed for movement. Next he donned a pair of basketball shoes, also black, the high-tops of which were covered by black, form fitting athletic pants. There was a bit of neon green reflectors here and there on the pants as well.

He looked into the mirror. His hair was messy, uncontrollable even. The brown waves reached his shoulders in the back. His green eyes were framed by a tanned face, which was forming a scowl at the moment. He could see a flashing light above the door to his room— the smoke detector. He grabbed the air soft mask from his dresser, along with the goggles. He remembered playing the game with his older brother, Dustin.

Dustin. As he situated the face protection, he remembered his brother. He had been several years older than him, with the same unruly hair and constant smirk. But not anymore. He had died "trying" a new drug. He had been seeking a higher high since trying crack a few years before, and there was nothing Cole could have done. Or so everyone told him. But they were wrong. He knew that his brother was in trouble, and did nothing And though it was too late now, he would at least avenge Dustin's death. Starting with his supplier.

The boy had spent a lot of time around them, being Dustin's "friend." Cole knew better, should have stopped him from corrupting his brother, but he hadn't. Joseph was going to be the first to pay for the blood that was spilt.

Cole flexed his hands, feeling as if there was blood dripping from his fingertips. His brother's blood. It was his fault. And this was his penance. Joseph would be first. But he would not stop there. He was going to remove every last one of those responsible. He would cleanse his city. In the end, he may be a hero, but he didn't care, so long as their blood paid for Dustin's.

He clipped the first four knives to his belt. They were four inch, serrated, stainless steel pocket knives that he had a talent for throwing. Not perfectly, but well enough to be dangerous. Very dangerous. The next knife was clipped to a belt loop. It was eight inches, smooth, and shaped very much like a paring knife. Next were two six inch filleting knives that he tied about his thighs. They would be his close range weapons, and his most threatening blades. He pulled a compression sleeve onto his left arm last, before slipping a three inch pocket knife into it. He doubted he'd have to use it but it was there just in case.

He looked back at the clock— 12:23. He turned again to the mirror. He knew at that moment, that someone new was born. A new shadow had fallen across the city. He would be the worst nightmare of the criminal underworld. For too long the law had sat by as the drug cartel ran the city. In that moment Cole Adder died, and was replaced by someone new.

"Tonight, the Viper will first strike."

With one last glance in the mirror, Viper turned, unlatched the window, and disappeared into the black void of night.

12:25