3. The Question

Part 3 of my current writing project, working title Vigilante. Written as part of NaNoWriMo. Any suggestions, criticisms or pointing of of errors is welcomed.



“That was incredible!” exclaimed Wilkins. “How did you learn to fight like that?”

The vigilante looked at the four bodies on the ground and shook his head. “I didn’t,” he answered.

“What do you mean?” Wilkins pressed, left hand dipping into his pocket to turn on his recorder. “You must have learnt those skills somewhere.”

“No.” His eyes remained on the bodies, watching as though waiting for some sign of life. It was highly unlikely to come however, given the damage inflicted upon them.

“Are you going to tell me then that you were born with that ability?”

“No.” Still staring at the only recently animate assailants, the vigilante raised his hood back over his head.

“So, what?” The journalist continued to probe. “Created in a lab? Struck by lightning? Bitten by a spider?”

“I mean ‘no, I’m not telling you shit if you don’t turn off that fucking tape recorder.'”

“Alright, easy there, I’m just doing my job. The readers would love to know at least a little about you guys.”

The vigilante finally turned to Wilkins, giving him his first opportunity to see his face. “The red mist. It comes down and all the rage inside boils over and spills out. That’s all it is.”

Wilkins shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t believe that it’s just anger that makes you able to fight like that. There has to be more to it than that.”

“Look at this face, William.” The vigilante moved closer to Wilkins, allowing him to see every detail of the distinctive facial tattoo – a hawk surrounded by flames – and the scars that adorned him. “Every cut, scratch, bruise, gouge; they feed the fire within. And that fire is contained until the moment comes to release it. And when that happens, it consumes everything.” With that he returned to the bodies, watching them once more. “You should probably run along now. Northlyn’s not safe for the likes of you.”

“I just have a few questions first,” Wilkins said, taking his tape recorder from his pocket and tossing down near the vigilante’s feet. “Off the record, off course.”

“How many times has somebody come for you, William? How long before they come after your family? Look here, even. Four more bodies because of you. And how many were there after you got those guys put away?”

 

“Are you trying to scare me? We’re on the same side, god damn it! We’re both trying to bring justice.”

“I’m not trying to scare you, William. But your questions have consequences. Your thirst for answers will only make the target on your back grow bigger, and the fallout spread further.”

“One question then, that’s all I want.” Wilkins was not the sort of person to leave anywhere without at least one answer.

“You’re playing with fire, Willy. Sooner or later, you’re gonna get burned.”

“Why do you fight? Are you not worried of the target on your back, or the far-reaching fallout from your actions?”

No response.

Wilkins asked again, “Why do you this? Answer me that, off the record, and I’ll go.”

At that moment, a mobile phone began ringing. The vigilante stooped down and fumbled around with the bodies until he located the device.

“Why do I fight, unafraid of somebody coming after those I love?” he asked Wilkins.

“Yes. That’s all I want to know.”

“Two words,” said the vigilante, answering the call. “Hello daddy.”

 


Did you know I have a book out?

You can check it out >>here<< for the Kindle version

Or >>here<< for the paperback

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