[Dark Defender]

 




The night was dark. He stared out over the rooftops, glaring through the rain, looking over the city that was crumbling beneath him. He reached his hand out with his palm facing upward and let the raindrops bounce off of his dirty hand. He closed his fist, catching the rain, as if it were the first time in years he had felt the dampness of a good rain shower. His hair was both wet and greasy. His long, knotted, dark hair clung to the top of his face as he let out a long sigh. He took a step closer, trying not to step on anything that could pierce his bare feet, to get a glimpse of the town he once knew as home. His torn, tattered, and stained orange jumpsuit was getting soaked. He could feel his body start to tremble as the rain began to harden and smack off his course skin. He reached up to his lips, rubbing his callous fingertips over the thick scars that covered the lower portion of his face. He remembered why he was on that rooftop. He took another step closer to the edge and then jumped.


It was seven years ago. He was a young, charismatic, man in love with an equally lovely woman. She was a natural beauty, with shoulder length strawberry hair and bright green eyes. She was a receptionist at a local law office during the day and a law student at night. Her daughter, just five years old, was a miniature version of her. Her personality would light up any room she walked into. She wasn’t his daughter, but he loved her just the same. He took care of her, walked her to school, and gave her a kiss goodnight every night. Every night except that night. He worked a double shift because his wife, her mother, was having trouble paying her tuition. He did everything for them. They were his life.

It was seven years ago today that he came home and found them. At first he couldn’t believe it. At first he didn’t want to. He cried out in fear and anger but no one heard him. He picked them both up and held them as he wailed. When the police came it didn’t matter that he was one of them. It didn’t matter that he swore up and down that he wasn’t home. No one believed him. His recent issues with substance abuse didn’t help his case. Someone knew he would be home shortly afterward. Someone had framed him. The jury took less than two hours to convict him and it seemed like the judge took even less time to sentence him to life in prison.


The first year was the hardest. He still held on to hope that they would see he was innocent. He still cried at night, hoping someone would believe him. No one ever did. The worst part came in his eight month. They came after him on his way from the laundry to the cafeteria. Four men, one with a make shift blade, all converged on him. He managed to fight back, remembering his training from the academy, but not before the blade slashed his face. He fell down, and the man slashed him over twenty times. The blade was half dull and short so none of the wounds were deep or life threatening. The worst of it came on his face. He spent three weeks in the infirmary. Two months later three of the men tried to finish the job…only one walked again.


In year three he began to give up his hope. His life became routine and he started to settle in. Long gone were the visits from friends and family. He was forgotten and excommunicated from his once perfect life. His mother disowned him and his lawyer stopped returning his calls. This was it. This was his life. He took up in the library and read everything he could get his hands on. All the while, fantasizing about her, about them. Living the life in his head he thought he was meant to have. He became a model citizen, keeping to himself. He grew his hair long and his beard thick in an attempt to hide his face. He settled and gave up hope.


In year five things changed. His hope and sadness were gone. Rushed in to replace them were anger and hatred and a burning question…why? Why them? What happened? Why him? He began to channel his frustration into his workout, gaining mass and speed as he carried around an intensity that burned a whole in his chest. He began to plot and to plan. He knew what he had to do. He knew what had to be done. He had to leave that place and he need to find the answers to those questions. He wanted vengeance for the woman and daughter that he loved. He needed to punish those responsible, although he was stuck behind a concrete wall and steel bars. But not for long…


Year six flew by, as his hair grew longer. He mapped out his every move. His plan was meticulous. It was perfect. He just needed to build up the nerve to execute it. He studied everyone around him, watching intently for months as he perfected it. Now all he had to do was wait. He had picked the date; the seventh anniversary. That was the day. She would’ve twelve he thought to himself. Maybe she would’ve had a brother right now. Maybe they could’ve moved out of this damned city and made a life for themselves. He imagined how wonderful it could’ve been before being brought back down to reality when he heard the steel doors close. It was just a waiting game now, just a bit longer.


When the day came he couldn’t eat. Midway through the afternoon it began to rain, something he had been hoping for. He froze in his tracks when he first wanted to begin so he took a deep breath and tried again, slipping his shoes off to remain quiet. Fourteen steps while hugging the left wall and when got to the corner he switched to the right wall as planned. Sixty-three more steps before he came to the custodial closet. He snuck in. He picked up the loose tiles that he had spent months carving out with his fingernails and began to lift up the sub floor, which he broke through last month. He jumped down to the concrete crawl space and began to lunge himself forward. For three hundred yards he inched forward like a slug before getting to the outside wall. He turned left and then entered the airshaft. As planned, there was a guard just outside of the shaft. He incapacitated him quickly, taking his keys in the process.

Now he was in the yard. He made his way to the tool shed where grabbed the axe. Just as he expected a guard came around the corner when he exited the shed. A quick blow to the head the guard was out. Now the only thing that was left was the chained and padlock side exit, where they got deliveries on Tuesdays. He knew he would have a few minutes until the guard came around the corner so he acted quickly. He used the axe to break open the padlock. He hit the chain so hard that the head of the axe fell off of the handle. Just as he was about to push the door open he heard the guard behind him. Without thinking he spun around, connecting with the axe handle on the guards cheek. He pushed open the door and ran through. As planned, he ran to the building directly across the street. He dug his hands into the brick façade and climbed. The heavy rain provided cover as the guards ran down the street; not seeing him clung to the side of the building right in front of them. As he heard the sirens and alarms sound he reached the roof. He knew he only had a few seconds for the garbage trailer to drive by so he stepped closer to the edge of the building that over looked the dying city.


To be continued...