Some important considerations:
1 - The songs are in Portuguese and the translation of the mentioned verses goes at the end of each chapter;
2 - Also at the end of the chapter will be posted comments on artists and video suggestions on Youtube.
3 – Review!
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Rachel took the stage, as was every Saturday's routine, and smiled at the band's musicians. She positioned herself in the center of the stage and looked at the pianist. A nod and the song started to sing a little pop nonsense.
"Não estou disposto a esquecer seu rosto de vez, e acho que é tão normal/ Dizem que sou louco, por eu ter um gosto assim: gostar de quem não gosta de mim/ Jogue suas mãos para o céus e agradeça se acaso tiver alguém que gostaria que estivesse sempre com você/ Na rua, na chuva, na fazenda, ou numa casinha de sapê." (1)
Rachel looked at the audience as she sang and then at the bar. Finn wasn't in the usual place. Her boyfriend didn't say whether or not he would pick her up, and Rachel also didn't voice on her wishes. On the other hand, after the couple returned to their usual sexual life, Finn became more disconnected about his girlfriend's safety.
But Rachel was in the most comfortable place in the universe, singing something silly in an arrangement too sophisticated for the song's foolishness. Still, those few verses made her feel good. "Gostar de quem não gosta de mim". Who never had a platonic love? She wasn't even sure what she felt. Platonic love? Maybe not love, but definitely platonic was in the order of the day.
Finn wasn't there, but Rachel did saw the person who populated the thoughts right in the restaurant's bar. As soon as she finished the performance, instead of returning to the tables, she went quickly to the bar.
"A girl said me that the food that served in this restaurant's bar were great. You didn't even have to book a table at this expensive restaurant."
"I heard that too." Rachel smiled. "Still, the price of the snacks here can be too much college for a tiny student's pocket, but I think it's a treat that's worth a try."
"My stomach agrees with you."
"What subtlety."
"Never argue with my stomach."
Rachel didn't quite understand what her friend meant. What Santana hadn't explained to Rachel was that above-normal strength, speed, and endurance meant a peculiar metabolism. In other words, the vigilante needs more food than a normal person.
"You... are you going to stay around?"
"I can give you a ride, if you want."
"In that filthy old car of yours?"
"My filthy old car works. But we can walk, if you want."
Rachel smiled and nodded. She was the last one to sing that night, the restaurant was already empty, and it wouldn't be long before she closed the day's file. The band was on the small stage finishing the last set list. Within an hour, Rachel was in the locker room putting her uniform in the closet in the way to be used again for the next day.
She found Santana outside the restaurant in different outfits than the one she was in. They were the "vigilante suits" and that intrigued Rachel. Santana was wearing loose-fitting jeans, a heavy black jacket, and heavy sneakers. This made Santana look more masculine and completely different from the elegant dress she wore in the restaurant. All that was left was to wear the black ninja-like mask.
"Did you get a phone booth to change clothes?" Rachel teased as they started walking toward the park.
"I climbed on the roof."
"Quit kidding."
There was no joke.
"So... why did you decide to take my invitation now?"
"I was curious. Everyone talks about your famous Saturday night performances. I just thought you were going to sing something more sophisticated."
"Don't you like pop songs?"
"Of course."
"So… shouldn't you keep your secret and keep me away from you?"
"I'm not getting you involved. This is called companionship here. I'll take you to your place and then I'll take care of my own business."
"Is there a lot of business to be solved?"
"That's none of your business, Berry."
"I read the newspaper yesterday. The vigilante has arrested a car thief and saved some gay guys to be beaten, but the police are still furious."
"I avoid accessing the news."
"Why?"
"I'm not a narcissist and I don't want to bother myself."
Rachel rolled her eyes. She knew Santana well enough to know that the girl could be arrogant and narcissistic. At least it was this posture she adored within the theatrical group: full of herself and willing to attack colleagues in the smallest gaps. The original members were the favourite victims, especially Finn and Rachel herself. Not even Tina escaped from the peculiar insults.
"How can you be so strong?" Rachel's question sounded random. "Can you lift things heavier than I do?"
"Not that lifting heavier things than you can is a big deal."
"Come on, Santana. You said you're Buffy like strong. So, do you can lift a car or drop a tree?
"Do you want me to drop a tree or raise a rock just to make a stupid demonstration?"
"Can you?"
"It depends on the tree and the rock." Santana picked up a pebble from the asphalt and threw it up. "See? It's a rock."
"No, it's not a rock and that's not a demonstration."
"Wrong, I said it depends on the rock, and a rock is a rock, even a fragment."
"Now you want to give me geology lessons?"
"Far from it, although I enjoy the subject. We have these notions in architecture and civil engineering."
"Are you one of those kids that made a stone collection?"
"More or less. I had a collection of house designs and liked to use glitter to make outlines and details."
"Houses? Is that why you do architecture?"
"My mother is a real estate broker, and sometimes, when my abuela couldn't take care of me for some reason, mami would take me to work. I loved to go to the houses for sale, running around the empty rooms. Then, when I got home, I tried to remember how they were inside and out. That's how my collection started. My first drawings looked like crazy pipes." Santana smiled and Rachel felt a strange comfort in hearing such a story. The singer appreciated even more the moment because she knew that Santana wasn't to tell such memories for nothing. "Have you always wanted to be a singer?"
"Since I was very little. My dad Leroy compose jingles. As he spent more time at home than my other dad, he taught me things about music: the basics of piano, how to read a score, how to sing in the right tone. The desire to pursue an artistic leisure career has become a life goal. I asked my parents to put me in singing, dancing, theater classes, anything that could help me to be an excellent performer."
"If you've invested so much, why didn't you go into one of these art schools?"
"Because I only wanted the best school. And the best one didn't accept me."
"And no other could fit?"
"Tell me why you choose Free State University."
"Because it's a great institution and because it gave me a scholarship."
"What if you weren't accepted?"
"Berry, when I signed up for colleges, I had options in mind. Free State University was one of them. It wasn't the best university on my list, but it was the one that offered the best value for money. The architecture course is well-regarded, I have a scholarship, and I'm only three hours from home. I can visit my parents and my abuela for a weekend whenever I miss them."
"So, it was a safe choice."
"Still, it was a choice. I could have gone to Metropolis, but I couldn't afford to live in that city. So what's the point?"
Rachel paused to think. She didn't want to lose the argument, but it was difficult against someone who had put forward reasonable arguments.
"Is that school of arts you're looking for one of those that you need to audition for?"
"Yes, it is."
"How many auditions."
"Three phases. First they checked the SATs, the second is a regional audition and the best would make the last selection in Metropolis. I failed the last one."
"What did they claim?"
"There were candidates who were stronger or more interesting than I was. That's all."
"So you didn't fail in anything specific. Was it a matter of preference of the one who evaluated?"
"Kinda. My dance sucks."
"True!"
"Thank you so much for the support."
"It's true. You have decent moves, but nothing extraordinary. It's not like Brittany's and Mike's. Your acting is quite normal. You can do comedy scenes well, but you're always a tone up in the most dramatic scenes. Quinn never received formal training and does better. That girl can't sing, but she's a natural actor."
"Says you want to get somewhere..."
"You're special when you are singing. God damn it for daring to say it, Rachel Berry, but when you're up on the stage singing, you have the power to make people forget. Hearing you is a privilege because that is where you truly put your soul. These highly regarded schools like to choose people who are practically ready. This is very easy for them. But there are so many other places that not only form but give you a chance to help improve other people. They are not the best in name, but they are best in practice. You deserved one of these: a school for those who have their feet on the ground and who seek not perfection, but in overcoming. And overcoming is always more attractive than perfection."
Rachel smiled flattered. A good shiver ran down her spine and her heart warmed. The feeling was great and she felt strange happiness. She held Santana's hand, slowing her down, and risked a kiss on the vigilante's cheek. Santana was surprised and grateful for the gesture. The comfort and warmth of the body was a mutual sensation. They exchanged glances, and both began to lean closer to each other's faces. But as cliché as it sounded, Santana's cell phone rang. She reached into the bottom pocket of her pants and answered. Rachel watched her exchange a few words with apprehension.
The next moment, she felt herself being pulled by the arm.
"Calm down!" Rachel complained and tried to free herself to slow down. "What happened?"
"I promised I would take you safely to your house, and I will comply. But we're going to make the rest of the way faster." They were a few meters from the end of the park and getting to Rachel's building was a hop.
"But Santana..." Rachel slammed once more. "Maybe I can help."
"Of course you can't!"
Santana removed the mask from her jacket pocket, pulled it on, and pulled Rachel into her lap and run. If Rachel wanted a show of the vigilante strength, well, there was a fifty-pound girl carrying Rachel in her arms and running so fast as if Rachel didn't weigh anything. Pretty much Rachel was thrown in front of the building she lived. Rachel had to lean against the wall to keep from falling. She looked out into the street, and saw the vigilante run toward one of the dark exits.
Santana continued to run towards the destination called. When she found a large vehicle, such as a bus, a truck, or a van, she would hang herself in the back and hitchhiker, then jump and get another one in the desired direction. In this movement, between races and rides, it took seven minutes to reach the destination: an area on the outskirts of the city. She circled the area to identify the situation. Apparently, there was tension in front of Angelina's house, one of the city's most prominent community leaders. Santana tried not to be seen, turned on her cell phone in need to find the black van she knew very well. It was the point of reference.
Santana found the vehicle two streets away, higher due to the formation of the neighbourhood on a hillside. Her companions were watching the problem with a binoculars.
"There are three guys in Angelina's house." Santana heard Gen's explanation. "Mercedes is in there as a hostage. The house is surrounded by some guys from the neighbourhood gang and there is a police car with two officers doing the negotiations."
"Is Mercedes in there? What the hell was she doing at Angelina's house at this hour?" Santana was worried.
"I don't know. Maybe she was interviewing Angelina for some article. That's beside the point."
"What about the others?"
"They are coming, but there is a loophole now. Are you with me?"
"You're the genius here." Santana nodded.
"You and Stud clean the area so that me and Flying can get in. If I whistle, Stud comes in."
"Why?"
"Because you're like an elephant in a jewelry store."
"Okay," Stud signaled. "Come on... "
They fired between the backyards. In a mess day like that, families would gather, close their windows, and go to places they considered safer. That kind of situation was an advantage for the two on the front line. Stud signalled to Santana for her to enter through the other side. She positioned herself in a shadow and walked cautiously to the perimeter at risk. The problem: Angelina, the community leader, was indoors with Mercedes and Bruce, Mercedes' fellow journalist who made such a special report about that community. Angelina still had a nine-year-old foster child who was also in there.
The peripheral area of the city is the subject of disputes between different gangs, but the social work developed by Angelina was a kind of neutral field. Someone had the idea of sending three people infiltrated to end the life of the activist. But these three didn't count to be seen or even she had in the company of journalists. A clean murder would attract news, but it could be circumvented. A massacre was another story.
Santana saw the first approach. She waited for the right moment to advance and knock. She was successful. Stud, saw that Santana's position was interesting and that the first of the five guarding fell. He used the power he had, telekinesis, to sulk another in the direction of his colleague. The gang member didn't know what invisible force pushed him and could not even think about it because the next second was unconscious. Santana signalled. She would get the other two and Stud the last. One, two, three. They advanced silently. Santana took care of one as fast as she could and needed to be even faster to take down the second. First she took a trick and then a punch. Stud made life easier. First, he disarmed the gang member using telekinesis, and then once again used the power to dislodge the man and be able to hit him in full.
They didn't have to signal. Santana looked up and there was Flying carrying Gen to enter the house on the second floor window. Gen was given such a nickname because he was one of the developers within the technology company at age 14 and was constantly inventing machines and applications, such as that used on watch cell phones that prevented the tracing of calls. Gen invented the voice changer that was docked in Santana's mask. In addition to being naturally a nerd, Gen had the ability to make accurate movement reading, power that made him a martial arts champion until he discovered that he was unconsciously cheating.
Flying left Gen in one of the windows in the second store, according Gen's calculations. He stepped into the window while his companions waited for a signal, and stood ready to knock down anyone who decided to circle the house. Gen walked silently. Instead of the heavy sneakers that Santana or Stud wore, he wore taekwondo sneakers: they were light and silent. Two of the bandits were in the room with the hostages. The other was guarded in the kitchen, certainly intrigued by the sudden silence. Gen came down the stairs hopping in the vain not to be seen. He calculated the right time to run into the kitchen and hide behind the counter as opposed to the armed man. This was a very beautiful and somewhat luxurious home for that kind of neighbourhood, he thought. He picked up a little mirror and the blowpipe with tranquilizers he carried with him. One, two, three, in one swift motion, stepped out of position and blew the gun. The gang member felt the sting in his neck. The substance acted fast. He became sleepy and it was the opportunity for Gen to strike him without making a sound. One less. Two were missing. He would need Stud.
Gen opened the kitchen door and whistled. Stud answered almost immediately. Ah, the sneakers. Santana wore them because she thought it was part of her vigilante persona style. Stud were them because they were useful in civil construction. In one way or another, they didn't serve the subtlety that the situation demanded. Gen worked out a plan in seconds. The action would have to be simultaneous. He made gestures and whispered as low as he could, then positioned himself. One, two, three, Stud made a noise in the kitchen. He attracted one of the bandits and this made it possible for Gen to enter the room. A shot was fired. The people in front of the house shook. Luckily caught no one. The next minute the hostages, including Mercedes Jones, walked out the front door while the guards ran through the back door. Mission accomplished.
The vigilantes returned to the van and found flying waiting. Or almost. Words didn't have to be said at that moment. They simply got into the vehicle and got out of there. Stud removed his mask as he took the wheel. He was euphoric.
"That was awesome. It was great!" He repeated.
"We got them!" Santana celebrated.
"A perfect group work." Flying celebrated.
"Let's just see what the boss is going to say." Gen removed his mask. He always tried to control the euphoria.
Stud was Matt Rutherford, a member of the amateur theater, along with Santana and Artie, who was known as "flying." Ironically, the man in a wheelchair was able to fly and float, though he did so with his body in a vertical. Still, it was wonderful to be able to get out of the jail whenever no one was around. Gen listened by the name of Grant Fish, son of a great lawyer of the city. Santana's battle name was Hammer, because of her strength.
Matt drove the van into a small building near the industrial sector. He parked in the internal garage and the members got out of the vehicle into the building. A sedan car stopped just behind. People headed downstairs to a lounge that looked more like a boxing gym with a ring, sandbags, and some weight machines.
"That was insane," the boss said as soon as he found himself in the security of the walls with the commanded.
"It all worked out." Santana smiled.
"But it could have gone wrong. I know that Grant is the leader on the field, but not in such a situation. Not when Angelina was involved" The boss continued to bronch.
"And Mercedes," Artie said.
"We acted inside the open window." Grant was justified. "The plan was perfect, though impromptu. Even the beast here did everything right." He referred to Santana, who didn't like the nickname.
"Still, it was unnecessary exposure. I put this group together, I train this group to do really important jobs. Not for you play vigilante in this city. You are getting out of hand these days and if that action is wrong, it could put us all at risk. Or didn't you stop to think about it?"
"Out of hand because of Santana," Matt defended himself. "She's the one who's looking for publicity."
"What's the use of being willing to be a group of superheroes if it's not to fight the scum and protect innocent people?" Santana justified himself. "This city is collapsing, part of the police is conniving to the mafia and you want me to keep training in this place without doing anything else? Besides, my best friend was in danger in that house. Grant was right to act. I'm glad he did and that he called me."
"We have our trenches and you have to respect that once and for all," the boss rumbled and fell silent.
The boss stared at the team. Grant Fish, the nerd prodigy who was able to take readings of movements and anticipate them. He was his first student followed and Matt Rutherford, the gifted telekinesis boy who came to town specially to meet him and be trained. The sweet Brittany Pierce, the third student who had the gift to heal, but can't resuscitate as she tried to do once with a cat. And the most recent students: Santana Lopez, endowed with strength, stamina and speed above normal, and Artie Abrams, the boy who can fly... vertically because of his paralysed legs. There was also Mercedes Jones, who had no superpower, but learned of the group's existence because of her best friends. In addition, she promised to keep it secret and still help with investigations.
So many personalities, so many impulses and a delicate harmony that prevented everything from getting out by hand. And it was almost out of hand according to the Boss.
"Today's episode can have an undesirable repercussion, so everyone is in a state of silence, which means not going to the streets, do you understand, Lopez?"
"Yes, sir," She said without really feeling the need to comply with the order.
"But what about the investigations?" Grant took the floor. "An attempt on Angelina's life may be related to something serious, like file burning, perhaps."
"It's not what it seems to me," the Boss thought. "Anyway, I'll direct Mercedes to find out information," he saw everyone nod. "Today was a long night. Go home and we'll meet another time."
The news of the release of the community leader by the action of at least one vigilante had repercussions in the press the following day. Mercedes Jones, for example, stayed late into the night by giving testimony to police and answering requests from fellow journalists. She collected some information for herself. But what everyone was upset about was not for the threat to Angelina's life or the alleged gang clash. The vigilante and the possible motivations were the main mystery that shared opinions. Some people looked upon the figure as the righteous man the city needed. Others speculated that he acted according to an obscure agenda, probably political. One way or another, the figure came to be sought by the police. Many common thieves who committed crimes using black fabric masks were captured and interrogated. The Falastars were said to be the vigilantes, but they were easily denied. Nothing more frustrating for the police chief.
…
"I can't handle this guy" Finn grunted as he and his girlfriend heard the news on the car radio in the morning, when he and Rachel were on their way to a social meet with Carole Hudson-Hummel.
"You used to like the vigilante's idea. Now, you hate him. I don't understand you." Rachel commented.
"He's an arrogant one."
"How can you be so sure?"
"I just know," Finn snapped, "I hope the cops get the crest off this guy."
"This guy saved me," Rachel snorted.
"Did he really save?" Finn snorted. "This guy let Battes touch you and rape you before he did something."
"Who said he kept looking and waited the second accurate to avoid? You weren't there, Finn. Who are you to draw such conclusions?"
"You shouldn't be so vehement, Rachel. He's not a real vigilante."
"You speak like you know him."
"Maybe I've traded a word or two with him."
"When?" Rachel was surprised.
"One day he approached me." Finn clasped his hands against the wheel. "And he threatened me."
Rachel was silent. Santana despise Finn and this was too well known. But she would act like this as the vigilante? Why? Santana was with Rachel the night before. Rachel saw the moment of such a call that made Santana shake and put on the mask. The news revealed the reason: it was to save the life of a girl working on the outskirts of the city (that was Rachel's vision) and that Mercedes Jones was involved. Did Santana and Mercedes have a relationship other than being roommates?
When they arrived at the botanical fair, especially orchid farming, Rachel hugged Carole and walked side by side with her supposed future mother-in-law for a good chunk of the ride. The subject bored Rachel and at the first opportunity, she slipped away and said she would buy some water with the salesman who installed a carriage forward. Rachel did buy a bottle, but didn't return to the exhibition immediately. She looked at the cell phone. She didn't want to call, but the urge to know was stronger. She pulled away from the people and dialed the number.
"What's up Berry?"
"When did you meet Finn?" The question surprised Santana at first. But the vigilante should know that sooner or later Finn would tell Rachel about their meeting.
"Last time I met him was in the rehearsal. You were there too. Don't you remember?" Santana tried to be smart and cynical.
"I mean, with a mask."
There was silence on the phone, but Rachel could hear the breath on the other end of the line.
"Santana," Rachel insisted.
"Are you alone? I hear a noise."
"I'm on the street, in front of the exhibition shed. There is nobody close to me, stay calm. I wouldn't betray you."
"I had to do it. There wasn't another option." Santana said hesitantly.
"But haw this happened? I need an explanation."
"I'll summarize the story, Berry. your boyfriend went to Howard Battes' house armed with a racket and a baseball bat in order to finish what I started. I found out and anticipated myself. I wait, I almost miss my day to prevented your boyfriend to make a big mess. So, I stopped him and hit him a little bit for personal pleasure."
"Finn would never do that" Rachel was furious. "He wouldn't hit a man that was just out of a hospital. Which, incidentally, ended there because of you. Finn wouldn't hit a man who couldn't defend himself, as bad as this man was. "
"I know what I did, Berry, and I have my conscience to judge me. The question is: do you know your boyfriend so well to put your hand on the fire for him? What I told you is true. Now whether you believe it or not is your problem."
Santana turned off the phone. Rachel was furious. She tried to call again, but Santana didn't answer. Rachel drank the water, faked a smile, and returned to her boyfriend and mother-in-law. They were also already outgoing: they fulfilled the social commitment after posing for some photos that would be published in the local social column.
In the truck, on the way to the movies, Rachel briefly broke the silence.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"If you were there, that day... if you had seen that man on top of me. What would he have done?"
Finn glanced quickly at his girlfriend, and a scrap of paper rested on his face as he turned his attention back to the traffic.
"I would have killed him. No doubt."
...
...
(1) Na rua, na chuva na fazenda, by Hyldon
"I'm not willing to forget your face for once, and I think it's so normal / They say I'm crazy, because I have a taste like this: liking who doesn't like me / Throw your hands to the heavens and thank if there's anyone else that you wish it were always with you / on the street, in the rain, on the farm, or in a little house with thatched roof."
'Na rua, na chuva, na fazenda' was a song of the Brazilian funk movement of the 1970s. Hylton was a minor artist of that generation, who had the exuberant Tim Maia as main representative. In the 1990s, the trio Kid Abelha, led by Paula Toller, made a cover of this song and it became a hit. Kid Abelha was formed in 1981 and was part of the 'BRock' fever (abbreviation for Brazilian Rock) in the 1980s, when, for the first and only time, rock was the most popular musical style in the country. The most incredible thing about Kid Abelha was that critics said the band wouldn't last five years, partly because of sexism for it being the only one of that generation led by a woman. But the trio only split in 2016, after 35 years of uninterrupted activity.
Search: Kid Abelha Na rua
