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***
In the shivering light of neon signs, New York City at night becomes a kaleidoscope of shimmering reflections and shadows.
I tower over it, feeling its vile stench seep under my new mask.
The interweaving of streetlights and city lights creates a breathtaking landscape filled with mystery and drama. The dark alleys and lanes hide secrets and dangers that seep through the crevices of the buildings like their own stream of consciousness.
Standing beside me today are the people I care about. Simple, ordinary, and extremely fortunate to have been given the power to change the balance of power in this rotten heap called New York City.
The glass towers of skyscrapers and the steel structures of bridges are reflected in the puddles like distorted images from a nightmare world. The glimmering figures of passers-by staring ahead as if falling into the abyss of the city's noise. The sounds of cars and the humming of trains merge into a strange symphonic chord, calling for self-discovery and the unravelling of the mysteries of the night metropolis.
-This is the city that never sleeps, but it is in its stillness and darkness that the real truths and revelations are hidden. In every corner, in every curve of architecture hides a deep meaning that only those who dare to look into the darkest corners of their souls will be able to unravel. New York at night is not just a city, it is a mysterious picture on which everyone can see the reflection of their own fears and desires ...
-Sean?
-Dude, knock it off. It was fun the first few times, but now it just seems too... Just "boo."
My mind clears, and my imagination dissolves in the night wind and sarcastic comments. It seems as if the shadows themselves are retreating into corners, hiding and dreading the moment when they will be discovered...
Shaking my head, I nod conciliatory to my friends, feeling something inside resisting it. But the fleeting doubt fades, and there I am again, standing next to them, full of anticipation and a fighting spirit.
-You know, we'll have to find a common theme for the costumes," Gwen pulls back her colourful over-sized sweatshirt and takes a couple of steps back, looking at us in a new way, "We're too different.
My favourite white scarf constricts my neck for the first time. The suffocating feeling of resentment returns with renewed vigour, but just one look at my girlfriend's satisfied face calms me down, making me shove all negativity aside.
-I can find you some nice cloaks or coats. I got a mate in the Bronx who gets me new stuff. Nice guy, ex-husband of my neighbour. He's into that style himself.
-No, absolutely not. I meant something a little more friendly and colourful," Stacey gave me an unhappy look as she tugged the edges of my coat down, "It's too gloomy. And we are heroes, after all...
-Well, I like it. Oh! Oh! Why don't we do a mixed style?! Just imagine. Coloured masks with the attributes of each of us, hidden in the shadows of hats and cloaks, - Pete really got into the idea, almost jumping on the spot, - basically the same thing! Just combine the best. I'll be called Noir Spider, and Gwen will be Lady Spider! And Sean.
-Don't shout our names, dummy.
-The guy's got a point. When you're on a case, it's best not to blurt out your real name.
-Thank you, Mr Martinez.
-You're welcome, kid. Just don't let your mum find out.
After another sip of beer, my neighbour went back to his flat, scratching his arse and adjusting his pants.
-Erm... Is this normal?
-It's becoming a tradition," I put out my cigarette, as I couldn't smoke normally under Stacy's gaze, and got up from the little chair, standing up to my full height, "Anyway, we should get out, or if we're too late, we'll be back at dawn. And that, I'll tell you, is a below-average pleasure.
-What difference does it make? We'll still get there on a spider's web, won't we?
-So, you've learnt how to shoot your moolah sparingly?
-Ew, Shawn! Don't call her that.
-Heh-heh.
-Why are you laughing, mate? -What are you laughing about? I said I'd come up with a solution to your problem.
-Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, take it easy. - With his arms out in front of him, Pete did a somersault, jumping down from the ventilating annex, -I'm about to take apart this Mr Tube's toys...
-Mr Sticky Tube.
-Yeah. Never mind. Anyway, the train is ready, all that's left is to design the catapult that will fire the IPP.
-PPP?
-A simulated spider's web.
-That's a good name, old chap.
-Fuck you.
As we argued, we kept our eyes on the goal, so we rushed off the roof, each of us taking our own way to our destination. With George's help we managed to find a small gang hiding in the Brooklyn neighbourhood. Just a couple of days of tracking suspicious elements and here is a new trio of city supers flying to bring justice.
-Ha-ha-ha-ha," the sudden thought caused a fit of uncontrollable laughter, drawing the attention of my friends. Stopping on a nearby rooftop, they waited unhappily for me to burst into laughter, -Ha-ha-ha.... I just realised. We're the Golden Trio now, aren't we! Oh, come on, don't you get it?
-Um.
The guys looked at each other and grinned with embarrassment, and in their eyes I could read their opinion of my mental health.
-Don't be daft! I'm a redhead, Pete's a nerd, and Gwen's-
-Skinny glasses? That's what you mean, Sullivan.
Stomping her foot, the girl projected her displeasure.
-Yeah! -It's cool! We have unusual powers too and we fight evil!
-Why am I Hermione?
-You're the smartest.
-And I'm the dumb one?
-Well, of course not, sweetheart," I put my arm around Gwen and under her sceptical gaze and Parker's laughter, I began to reassure her, "Harry was smart too. At times, just like you... And he's also the chosen one. And a true hero. You two are so much alike and... Oh, I can physically feel how much you hate me.
Without continuing the conversation, the only lady in our team rushed forwards with a fiery grudge.
-Handsome, what can I say? -Handsome.
-Don't be clever, Hermione.
-Fuck you.
***
-Don't underestimate them," my slightly husky voice echoed down the corridor of the top floor. There was a small gang of eight people right below us right now. They were loud and rowdy, clearly looking for a police raid, but they were out of luck today," I said, "Don't feel sorry for them. It's better to disarm them and help them than to stick your back out....
-that's a bit harsh.
Gwen was nervous, but I couldn't quite figure out why. Whether she was anticipating a fight with criminals or afraid. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to look into it. We had to hurry before the police got here.
-I'll go first, you guys right behind me. -I'll go first. Use the ceiling and walls to get to your opponents faster," I was getting back into my usual frame of mind, as if a switch had been flicked and I was getting into Rorschach's character, helping myself and fending off the excitement, "If in doubt, use the web and back off.
Down the stairs. Turn and straight to the end, to where the most stink and the loudest music is.
-I see. Good.
My friends answered me in unison, but I didn't listen to them. The world imperceptibly lost its colours, leaving only black and white colours. Before me was the target and its last gasps, noise and rumbling only made my legs move faster.
My hands automatically adjusted my gloves, glancing through my coat, closing the pockets and making sure everything was in its place.
Daredevil's baton opens in my hands, sending a nasty snapping sound across the floor, sending shivers down Pete and Gwen's spine. They're excited, but apparently something else scares them.
The foot is being infused with Qi. The stupid tune of the doorbell causes the occupants of the flat we need to go to to be outraged.
I hear footsteps approaching and a couple of seconds later a small, thin ray of light from the peephole obscures someone's body.
The rumble of impact is ear-splitting. The door is ripped off its hinges, sending the first member of the gang into a knockout. I walk right through him, ignoring pity and fear. I need to act now, and I'll worry about the jerk's fate after I've disarmed the others.
They're yelling at me. Swearing and bragging about their connections in the neighbourhood, I must remember to interrogate them about this little nuance.
The baton crashes into the elbow of the next one, breaking his arm and wrenching a new stream of painful screams from the little bastard. He falls to the floor, clutching the damaged limb, howling something about his mother and the police...
But the others are waiting for me. The first swinging man flies away from the blow with a bundle of cobwebs, pinned to the wall. He groans and grunts with his bound mouth, and from his weakened hands falls the semblance of a baseball bat, old and shabby, clearly having seen better days.
The hands act on their own. I knock the can of beer out of the surprised guy's hands, then smash it into his nose with all my might, leaving a bloody stain in the very centre of his face. Some of his teeth fall to the floor, and he kneels down in a pathetic attempt to hold back the blood.
Someone and the bandits had tried to outmanoeuvre me..... And now his body, braided on all sides by cobwebs, was dangling from the ceiling where Gwen had dragged him.
It's chaos in the flat. Like a hurricane, we sweep through the rooms, knocking out the little shits, leaving moaning bodies behind.
My hands itch. I want to use them, but it's too dangerous because of the chi. I feel nervous, disgruntled, and strangely apathetic about the whole thing. It's as if I don't care about their lives and only out of habit am hitting them with my handy tools.
"I'll have to thank Rand for not teaching me how to infuse items with Qi."
The fight ends quickly. As it usually does, especially when one side outnumbers the other by many times.
The mask fits tighter around my face. I can feel the wind from the ajar window through it. It's strange, perhaps my imagination is running wild, or am I just wishful thinking?
Scarlet blood droplets are the only new colour that breaks through the fog of my mind. Long, twisting shadows steal away, sprawling from my feet. They cover everything in their path, leaving only rare but bright corners of light behind which reality lurks.
-Rorschach?
A woman's voice breaks through the veil, turning me inside out. It's Gwen, I'm pretty sure of it, there's no way the person speaking could be anyone else, but... She's so different from her usual self. In the voice added depth, and a light erotic hoarseness excitably caresses the ear.
-Mate, time to get out of here," Peter's voice breaks through the self-inflicted image. I'm once again standing in the middle of a shitty flat to the moans and curses of small-time street thugs, and my friends are frozen beside me, -The police are coming! It's time to get out of here.
The police sirens hit my ears. They're still far enough away, I'm pretty sure of it.
"But, how did I hear them? I don't care."
-Yes, you're right," Ignoring the worried looks from my friends, I'm the first to set the example by jumping out of the window. I forgot to look for clues, forgot to take pictures and even do a simple survey, putting all that out of my mind, -shit....
Climbing onto the roof, I habitually turn round to unhook the cat hook from the parapet, but there's nothing there. Surprise and shock stabbed through my body, making me run the last couple of minutes over and over again in my head
There I am, standing by the window, listening to Gwen and Pete whispering behind me, and the next moment my body fills with energy and I take a leap, climbing easily over window mouldings, pipes and cracks in the walls. Where there are no ledges of any kind, however, I simply push my way through.
I glanced down and noted the characteristic finger-shaped pits. It was nighttime, and there was no light.
It was all very strange, and I had to get to the bottom of it.
-Dude, was that too much? Just too much?
-What are you talking about?
Without turning round, I could see what was going on behind me. I knew Parker and Stacey all too well, picturing every last detail of how their faces had changed.
My dear friend. He's excited and scared. It's all still a game and fun for him now, even though he's trying to be serious.
That's probably Pete's biggest problem. Even with my influence, his character is still kind and believes in the best. Uncle Ben and Aunt May have done a magnificent job of keeping this guy from getting bitter at....
"Why is that a problem? Isn't that a plus? I remember I always thought it was his best trait on the contrary.... Forgiveness and mercy."
-...You've crippled a few of them. I doubt that guy will even be able to use his arm now.
Images of the battle flashed through my mind again, only now I was looking at it from a different angle and my elbow was hit with a metal club. The nasty crunch made me grudgingly wrinkle my nose. It was too messy to work. Aggressive and violent. We rounded up a bunch of skanks who barely fought back, and I treated them like they were Mafiosi or Mafia operatives.
-Yeah, you're right. I don't know what came over me. I don't usually work like this.
-Are you sure?
Gwen couldn't help but interject. The girl was in a belligerent mood. There was defiance in her movements, and right now she was burning my face with her gaze, waiting to see what I would say to justify it.
-Yes, that's right," but I had nothing to justify, "they're criminals, even if they're not particularly dangerous. But only for now, but now, after what happened, they'll think three times before they commit a crime.
-I thought we were supposed to stop villains, not punish them. That's not the same thing!
-Stopping... We should be putting them in jail. Give them a lesson they'll always remember.
I felt angry. Gwen's words were, surprisingly, really annoying me. What could that little twat possibly understand. Went to one run-down flat in a relatively decent neighbourhood....
"That's an idea."
-Okay," I interrupted Stacey's new tirade, who was about to go into another round of recriminations and arguments, and simply beckoned them to follow me, "let's keep moving. The night is too short, and we have a lot to catch up on.
***
I knew where to go next. A nasty place, where every few weeks a new gang of hustlers, marginalised people and bastards would gather.
Abandoned social programme houses. Five-storey shacks, unfinished because of the stolen budget.
Bare shabby walls, dirty and smelly floors covered with rubbish and shit. Graffiti everywhere you look. And people.
Or rather, what used to be people. They sat along the walls, heads leaning back, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Desperate and abandoned, eternal customers who would sell their own souls for a dose. All emotion has long since disappeared from their faces, leaving only empty, dirty shells.
And none of them want to change. They've accepted themselves.
-God, I'm going to throw up-.
Holding her mouth, Gwen struggled to look away from the shitting and puking homeless man who was masturbating in the middle of a pile of rubbish. His clothes were scattered around him, with blood stains here and there. The entire body of the homeless man was covered with wounds, dirt and other nasty things that easily distinguished him from a healthy citizen.
-Let's go.
But that wasn't our target. The people we were after always hung out in the deepest part of the house, where there was only one corridor. Twisted and narrow, like a cloaca.
It's an ugly comparison, but it's reality.
-Guys, why don't we get out of here?
I understood Parker's anxiety. I understood why he didn't want to stay here. The whole place was saturated with hopelessness, fear and apathy. It was a terrible mix, spiced with the stench of the locals.
-We're here," I froze in front of the doorway. The door that used to protect each new owner of this "palace" had been torn down a long time ago, it seemed, in my past life. Now in its place from the ceiling there were scraps of some tablecloth hanging down - let's finish quickly, let's get out of here.
Inside, the highlight of the place was waiting for us. Dopey guys lying on the floor. Naked and with traces of their own excretions. Among them there were some newcomers who could boast of clean skin and fresh traces of bruises on their bodies.
Several young girls were lying huddled together on the couch, one of them apparently dead. Vomit was coming out of her mouth, and her swollen red eyes said she had choked in her sleep.
-Oh, my God...
-That's the real face of New York, the shadows and the colours, they're playing their game with me again. All the unnecessary things are gone from my mind, leaving only the vague, murky silhouettes of the local inhabitants, - no matter how much you clean up this dirt, it still comes back.
-"Clean it up"?
-I've raided this place three times now. I've taken people out, I've beaten up vendors, I've tried to help. But to no avail. They always come back. They always want to go back to that state and exalt the people who put them there.
-It's terrible.
-We've got to do something.
Unlike Gwen, Pete kept his cool. The guy was serious and clearly struggling to keep himself from getting violent.
-Let's go. I'll wait here," I pointed my finger at the next passageway and defiantly stepped aside, "I'll wait here. I want to see how you guys handle this problem.
My friends were clearly confused. Until now I had been telling them what to do, but now they were frozen, looking around, not knowing where to start. The anger in their eyes at my decision was replaced by panic, until Stacy finally pulled out her phone.
-I'll call the fire service and the police. They'll come here and help-
-and they'll be here again tomorrow night, waiting for the new death dealers to take over the last room.
-Can't we just get everyone out of here first?
-They don't want to leave, Pete. Look at them," I pointed my finger at the many junkies lining the walls, "as long as this place exists, they'll always come back.
-Instead of criticising, you'd better suggest something! This is not a joke or playing the cool mentor. People need help!
-You're right," I stepped closer to my friends and gazed into the dark hollows where their faces were. Hidden by hoods, they looked like cartoon ghosts, -we just need to tear down the houses. Tear down this abode built on filth and misery....
***
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