The Redeemer

  “Breathe.” A cool, husky voice said into my ear. My eyes are already closed, my breath shallow. I can feel him walk around me, I can smell his cologne as he moves brusquely by me. Vaughn, my oldest friend now and mentor, walked around me, testing me again. I must admit that he liked to push me to my limits. He is one of the best burglars I’ve ever met. He was gorgeous, too, which seemed to escape me most days. He was older than me, a little scruffy and had short, orangish-red hair. He was classically handsome from the bridge of his nose to the dimples. His eyes were penetrating and deep, soulful even. He had this who Kevin Mckidd thing going on. I sighed, annoyed by the thought of him, “To see with only your eyes is to be blind to everything else that’s there.”

  “We’ve been at this for hours, Confucius. I thought they’re be some cat burlaring.” I frowned.

  “Great thief, lousy with patience though.” Vaughn said with a sideways smirk, “I’ve been at this for years…You’d do well to learn to listen.”

  I smirked as I opened my eyes, “That would me like ignoring everything I am.” I shrugged, “Besides, I’m your sense of entertainment.”

  He sighed, “Entertainment? Why couldn’t you be a hero?” he asked.

  I paused, turning to him. I guess my face conveyed my confusion, “Nobody wants to be the hero. That’s boring and, on the whole, too much work.” I smirked.

  “Perhaps its deeper than that.” He smiled.

  “What, oh what, do you mean?” I asked. I looked around at the apartment and notice how run-down it is. Of course he doesn’t live here, but it’s one of the places where he stores his weapons in case he has to make a quick escape. I learned that from him, to always be ready to go. He’d told me that he’d once lived here, back when it wasn’t such a dump and when the place wasn’t damn near condemned. He remembered the docile greens and the vibrant blues that decorated the then ornate apartment. But like everything and everyone else in the neighborhood, it had rotted and decayed under the filth of this part of the metropolis, “I should get home.” I frowned, standing.

  Vaughn nodded, “Do you want me to walk you?” he asked.

  I shook my head, “No, it’s fine.” I smiled walking to the door.

  “It’s a dangerous city.” He said, causing me to stop, “You’re walking into the heart of it.”

  “As romantic as that is, I can handle myself.” I smiled. He chortled, “Besides, I’ll just pull out the villain card and show them.” I turned and walked out of the door, into the hallway and descending the stairs. As I entered the cold air of the city, I felt as if his words were beginning to have some sort of effect on me. I could never be a hero though, it wasn’t part of my nature and I just wouldn’t be any good at it. Now stealing, that was the thing I was good at. It was what I’d come to know. Before the existence of heroes was known, I would have never thought of becoming a thief. Now it felt as in my nature as anything I’d ever done. My thoughts, as I walked, swirled with questions of if I was doing the right thing. My questions quickly turned to resolve. As I passed house after house, my resolve continued to build. Thinking about all this poverty while the less noble men lived in Penthouses rubbed me the wrong way. To see such injustice…I found myself looking around at the crack dealers and prostitutes and all the crime going on; taxis rarely stopped here, knowing what could happen if they did. I paused as I passed an alley. Through the darkness, I could make out three shadows. People walked past, as if they couldn’t or wouldn’t see what was happening. Looking back, I could have never left the scene with helping. As I walked closer into the alley, I noticed that a young teen was standing in front of two men, two typically suped-up thugs. Wifebeaters, tattoos all over, snapback hats…flashbacks to the guys I had dated. One was Caucasian and the other was Puerto Rican. I frowned to myself and they turned to me, eyeing me.

  “What do you want, pendejo?!” The Puerto Rican thug said quickly, staring at me.

  “Please, help me!” A teenage boy said. The boy was barefoot. I had seen him around and his name was Maurice. He was known as “Whedontown Homo” and brutally picked on for his flamboyant nature. I could easily decipher what this was about. They wanted his shoes, but also something else.

  “This don’t concern you!” The Caucasian thug drawled.

  I smirked, “No, It doesn’t.” I frowned, “Take a hike, kid.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, you’re not running things.” The Puerto Rican thug frowned. He withdrew a large knife, “Guess we’re just going to have to settle for two. Pick the one you want, amigo.”

  “I wouldn’t get too comfy with that knife.” I said.

  The Caucasian thug chuckled, “Walk away and we won’t treat you the same way we’re about to treat this faggot.” He said with a serious tone.

  “I like it when thugs talk dirty…makes me all warm.” I smirked, “But don’t talk that way in front of the kid…he’s very impressionable.”

  Their eyes snapped to me. The realization hit them and I smiled to myself. It crossed my mind to ask myself why I was doing this…I wasn’t a hero. I’m a thief and what’s more, I was starting to think that maybe this was a mistake. Not that I couldn’t take these guys, but it wasn’t my job or my calling to save anybody.

  “So, you’re a fag too? This should be fun.” The Caucasian thug purred, “Never had me a black boy. I think I’ll fuck the gay out of you.”

  “Your dick will never be big enough, but I do agree about fun.” I said quickly.

  His face contorted into anger and humiliation. He pulled out his own knife and advance towards me. Both thugs did. With more grace than one cat burglar should have, I whipped around him as he lunged forward, kicking him into the wall as I flipped over the Puerto Rican’s knife. In his surprise, I backhanded the knife from his hand and pushed my palm forward, most likely breaking his nose. As he stumbled back, the Caucasian thug’s fist came at me again. I leaned back, grabbing the fist and sending it into the opposite wall! I heard his whole hand crack against the wall and turned to the Puerto Rican in time to grab his fist and sweep him off his feet, punching him as he hit the ground. I walked over to the kid, who seemed to be shivering and watched the thugs running away from the alley like scolded dogs. Maurice’s breathing slowed to a normal pace and I rolled my eyes.

  “This the point where I say thank you?” Maurice asked snidely. I smirked, there was hope for this kid yet, “Look thanks but getting gangbanged by two very attractive thugs is…”

  “Rape. Statutory if I’m not mistaken.” I smirked. In this light he seemed so young, “Besides, you should have more respect for yourself…they didn’t even have guns.”

  “They will now.”

  I made a mock pouty face, “Not my issue. Next time you’re looking to get gang-raped, wear different shoes.” I said, walking away.