Chapter 2 - Old Wounds, Different Time

📌 Tags: Action, Urban, Superhero, Antihero Protagonist, Vigilante, Crime Investigation, Dark, Mature, Thriller

⚠️Authors Note - Mature Content

"This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, nations, corporations and events are products of the author's imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real events or persons is coincidental."

Date - 04th December 

Character Name - Near

Location - Promise City, Ct

District - Christmas Market, Bay District

Time - 1950 (07:50 PM) 

The report played across Promise City's reeling billboards. Fear rippled through the residents, suffocating the holiday spirit. The public believed the seventh victim, Everlyn Silva, was dead. 

But Near and Detective Brady knew better. She wasn't dead-yet. 

The most crucial window for finding a kidnapped person was 72 hours. 

Near kneeled on one of the sharpened ledges of a tall building, gazing down at the bustling Christmas Market. 

The temperature remained subzero. Snow drifted endlessly, smothering the giant Santa inflatable across the Bay. The vigilante leapt from the ledge, catching another below without effort. Through a window, a family prepared their Christmas tree. Near passed by like a phantom. His boots crunched softly against the snow-lined ledge. His blue cape brushed the surface as he leapt to the opposite building, where criminals huddled at the apartment entrance. 

The Thugs 

"Got the gun?"

"First thing - got the money?"

"Fineee. Thought you'd have a little more Christmas spirit."

"It's Christmas in what - twenty-one days? Stop that crap already."

"Let's just close this deal." 

The four men stood with their hands shoved deep in their pockets, hoods low, the cold slicing through them. 

"What if HE appears?"

"We kill 'im."

"Yeah sure. Let's just get inside."

They piled into the foyer, tracking snow through the doorway. They rushed up the metal stairs, past each wooden apartment door. The building reeked of damp - pungent and stomach-churning. Some men coughed, spitting thick saliva. Many windows were boarded or broken, useless in the freezing weather. 

"You can't kill the shadow, Mike."

"He ain't a shadow, Brent. He's flesh and blood. If he bleeds, he can die. I ain't scared. He's nothing."

Unlucky for him, the shadow was already above them - Near crawling silently through a vent. 

The vent creaked under each movement, metal slick with condensation. 

Near slipped from the vent and dropped behind them without a sound. 

"Remember the deal - kill the family, get paid. Easy." 

"Trick or Treat…"

"That's Halloween, dummy!"

"Oh yeah, my bad…"

Breaking In

The thugs hammered the door, each kick leaving dents in the wood. 

"HEY B*TCH! Rico sends his regards! Get your b*tch ass out here!" 

Screams erupted from inside - women and children. 

Rico? OH GOD NO! PLEASE! I HAD NO CHOICE! THEY MADE ME SNITCH!"

"OPEN UP, B*TCH!"

"Hey Brent, go find a back entrance."

"Sure."

Brent marched to the window. With brute force he lifted the broken frame and climbed out onto the icy emergency staircase. The winter air stabbed his exposed skin. The comforting scent of turkey drifted from a nearby apartment. 

"God damn it's cold out here!" 

He nearly slipped as he descended towards the back door - then - 

WHAM. 

Blood sprayed inside his balaclava. The brute stumbled dazed. 

WHAM. WHAM. 

Invisible fists hit him again and again. Dizzy, vision blurring-

A final blow sent him collapsing into the metal rail. 

Near tied the unconscious thug to the, now bent, handrail with a tore-off sleeve. 

"Hey Brent, did you find a way in?" another goon called. 

He peeked out the window-

Near yanked him through it and slammed him onto the metal floor. With a soft wheeze the air left his thin body. 

"No. He didn't," Near said calmly. 

Near slipped inside through the same window, slammed it shut spitefully, then grabbed his gel gun. It resembled a toy water pistol, with a small sphere cartridge on top. He sprayed the door frame-sizzle, pop-the compound solidified instantly. 

The acidic smell forced Near to keep moving. 

The Fight Inside

The last two thugs stood at the apartment door, knives in hand. 

"We'll let the boss kill the b*tch, then we'll go. Brent and Mac should be back so-" 

WHAMMM. 

A kick sent him flying into the plaster wall, cracking it. 

"What the hell?!"

His partner froze-

"W-what the HELL-?!"

WHAM WHAM WHAM SMACK

Near crushed his chest, neck, and jaw in a flurry of strikes. 

SCREAMMM

A woman's scream shook the apartment. 

Cape snapping behind him, Near stormed through the door-kicking one thug who had begun to rise. 

"Get back down," Near growled, knocking him out again. 

He crossed the decrepit room, climbed onto the unstable wooden beams, then slipped into an open vent where frost had formed a thin crystalline sheet. 

The Family

Y'know, b*tch… Rico is pissed. He hurt Diana… REALLY hurt… So hurt he said we kill you and the kids and he'd give us anything we wanted. Killing kids ain't our thing, but he won't know if we let 'em run. 

But you? You're fair game."

He, the would-be assassin slid his green balaclava down. His chin was prickled red from the cold. 

"Please, Gus… we're family," the woman begged, shielding her kids inside a wooden closet. 

"No, Diana-we were. Not anymore. Anyway, we need that Christmas bonus. Micky, go tell the rest of the boys. Time to leave.

"Sure, boss." 

As Micky left, Near lowered himself silently from the beams. 

"Y'know, I've always wondered what you girls look like naked. Why don't ya strip? Might as well make this interesting…" Gus Smiled, slightly. 

They obeyed-slowly, fearfully. 

SMACK

Near struck him behind the head, dropping him like a sack of potatoes. 

"There's another!" a woman warned. 

Nears eyes snapped to her. Then swiftly darted to the hallway. 

"I know." 

Near pulled a metallic rope taut-

A scream echoed-

And a thug was dragged across the floor. 

WHAM

A boot to the face ended him. 

"Cover yourself, ladies," Near said softly, tossing their clothing back. 

They dressed quickly, thanking him through trembling breaths. 

"Thank you, God, for sending us one of your angels…" One whispered, making the sign of the cross. 

The closet creaked open-five kids, ages 6 to 15, spilled out. Their mother pulled them close. 

"It's okay. God saved us. One of his angels heard our pleas."

The oldest boy stared in awe. Near's blue cape fluttered in the icy breeze. 

A wounded thug rose behind Near, pistol shaking in his hands. 

"YOU FREAK! NOT SO POWERFUL NOW, ARE WE!?" 

"HE'S GOT A GUN!" 

The kids screamed. 

"Clearly he can't use it properly," Near muttered. 

He jerked the metallic cable-tripping the thug. Near stomped toward him, tore the pistol free, snapped the man's arm and disassembled the weapon effortlessly. The women gasped, the kids winced. Then one girl approached. 

"Angel…can I ask you something?" the girl asked softly. 

"Go on."

"Do you…really serve God?" 

"Not anymore, kid." 

He started toward the exit. 

With the wail of a police siren and flash of a blue light. Near reached into his utility belt. 

The Police were coming, Brady was his only ally in the Precinct, most of the police hated Near, he was an outlaw, a vigilante and criminal. 

The girl hesitated to speak but she did. 

"Well…I think you're cool. Stay safe, hero…" 

Near tied the thugs into a single pile with the metallic cable. Sirens echoed downstairs. 

"Hey kids-protect your mamas. They're special." 

He left as the police arrived. 

"Gotta go." 

Later That Night 

Near checked his phone. Almost five in the morning. 

He scoffed, exhausted. 

"Guess I can go to bed…ready for work."