"Cash!..."
The twitchy gunman swept his arm around in a broad arc, "Now... all of it." He gestured frantically to the boy behind the counter who cringed back from the loaded weapon.
The cashier fumbled at the till, slapping it open, scrambling to pull the battered notes free. He pushed them across the counter nervously in a crumpled bundle, unable to take his eyes from the tremor running through the junkies arm. Jesus.. I'm gonna die alone in this lousy dime store. His world condensed entirely down to the single dirty finger resting over the trigger, knuckle flexing with excitement, jittery with adrenaline or maybe the latest fix.
It was only a small corner shop, a few rows of high shelves stacked with basic necessities, a bin full of ignored ice-creams, a wall dedicated to magazines and maps. Behind the till a rack of liquor bottles glinted on display, well dusted and neat, locked securely away.
Crouching, the boy swore under his breath, "alright man, calm down... please... take what you want!" He kept his hands held high as he screwed his eyes shut, breath stalling in his chest, waiting for the deafening moment the gun would fire. It would be any moment... oh god, oh god...
A chime over the door sounded, a tinkling jolly bell at odds with the tense scene. The junkie wrenched around toward the noise, pointing the gun around wildly...
Too terrified to look, the cashier heard a thud, a sickening crunching sound and a pained exhale. The counter shook as something slammed hard onto the surface, followed by the skittering hiss of a weapon sliding away in pieces across the floor.
His heart almost lurched to a stop when a low reassuring voice murmured "Call 911."
Opening his eyes slowly he just caught the profile of a darkly dressed man striding from the shop, snug mask covering half his face, a pair of slightly curved horns at his brow.
The money was still crumpled on the counter, the junkie knocked out cold on the ground. Gasping for air, the cashier slumped backwards, leaning against the clinking liquor cabinet, drawing a gasp of utter relief.
Matt pulled himself up easily onto the flat roof, pausing as he concentrated, head tilted to focus his senses.
The young cashier would be okay, already he could hear him speaking over the phone to the cops. There was a growing tremor in his voice, emotion already chasing hard on the heels of the stress that had just flooded through his body. His heart still drummed wildly in his chest, his hands were shaking, but he would be alright...
He nodded to himself a little, satisfied, shifting his attention back to the sounds rising up from the world below. Mingled in with the multitude, almost lost amongst the arguments and conversations, faint beside the rumble and static of traffic and televisions, something beautiful soared. He hesitated, captured by the sound, craning his neck around. Stalking slowly across the roof he focused in the direction of his own church, only a couple of streets away. The sound of many voices joined in unison, the midnight mass in full sway.
O Holy Night... the stars are brightly shining...
Crouching alone at the edge of the roof he tried to block everything else out, just for this stolen moment. He lifted the mask free, running a gloved hand distractedly through his hair, following the harmony of voices as they weaved subtly around each other.
Dipping his head in reverence he counted possibly twenty people, some nervous, some tired, one wheezing a little with a chest cold. All must have been on some kind of high step or stage, performing proudly before the congregation. Their heart rates were raised just slightly with either anxiety or excitement.
Long lay the world... in sin and error pining...
His thoughts turned to Foggy and the Nelson clan. How they might be spending Christmas together. Probably bursting into song right now in their own raucous way. He remembered the first time he'd been dragged along, years ago now, back at college. Foggy had insisted, riding straight over any excuses Matt could think of not to intrude.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices...
"C'mon man" he'd grinned "either I'm staying here or you're coming with me. Trust me, there'll be plenty of food and booze, you'll enjoy it!"
And he really had...
They'd been so loud, brash and completely welcoming, Mrs Nelson taking particular delight in whatever second helpings she could encourage Foggy's pale young room-mate to take. She'd impressed upon him a sincere standing welcome to come visit, especially at Christmas, she couldn't abide the idea of him celebrating alone. No-one should be alone over the season.
Fall on your knees...
Matt's chest constricted as the voices lifted together in heartfelt crescendo, the harmony splitting apart and slowly resolving. He wondered how Foggy would field any questions about him this year? Would anyone ask?
Oh, hear the angel voices...
Crashing through the song, loud and crude suddenly, a police siren sounded close by. It broke the spell of his reverie, bringing him harshly back to the cold rooftop patrol. Matt tilted his head aside, following the direction of the action as it raced past. Unseen around him brilliant red and blue flashes lit up the walls of the buildings below.
"Shots fired, I repeat shots fired..."
O night divine...
Clenching his jaw he slipped the mask down into place, turning his back on the beautiful harmony, letting the hymn subside into the background noise of the city. He switched his focus instead to the rapid speech of the responding officer at the wheel, hearing a phrase that made no sense whatsoever "civilian down... devil worshipper."
Running full-tilt across the rooftop, he snapped the billy-club apart, casting one end out to snag around the leg of a nearby water tower. Swinging out onto the next building he landed lightly, keeping his momentum going with a roll before lurching up and sprinting onwards. Matt grimaced, wondering what the hell kind of new cult had taken root in the Kitchen.
The sirens died, tyres screeching to a halt as two cars converged at the mouth of an alleyway. Already the officers were warily investigating the scene. Matt crouched at the edge of the rooftop just above them, a silent spectator.
A copper tang of fresh blood saturated the air, pooling around a body that lay alone, already cooling in the chill night atmosphere. Breath and pulse had long faded to silence, he was too late to save anyone here.
He shook his head with frustration, studying the alleyway for clues. There was a lingering odour of cologne, notes of amber and white musk. A ribbon of fumes trailed through the air from a cheap gas cigarette lighter. There had been only one gun fired, peppering the air with acrid smoke, fired more than once. Several men had been at the scene, footsteps dancing around each other, fighting hard before the gun had ended the confrontation. Specks of their sweat and blood were splashed across the walls and floor. The trail away from here was muddied, whoever had been here hadn't left on foot.
"Poor bastard, look at the state of him." Someone below gestured to the body, voice a low growl.
"Yeah well, only a matter of time wasn't it?" one of the other officers moved to stand beside him, peering down, hands on hips "All these vigilante Daredevil wannabes... sports gear ain't gonna stop a bullet... Jesus... one was bound to eventually bite off more than he could chew eh? "
Matt rocked back on his heels, shaking his head infinitely slowly in growing horror.
"Where'd he even get those horns?" The officer sighed, turning on his heel, heading back to his car to tape off the area.
High above, Matt's heart-rate leapt as he mouthed a silent "No!" He reeled with shock. Someone had copied him, and it had cost them their life... He wanted to jump down, to act, to avenge and apologise. He gripped the roof ledge tight to steady himself. To resist the urge to leap. He wanted to scream, to tear the street apart for clues. Something. Anything. Any way to find out who did this.
Breathing fast he replayed the description he had heard earlier... devil worshipper. He winced at the unwelcome idea, that was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to inspire, sure, but not that. Not ever that.
He fought to calm his heartbeat, rising to pace silently along the edge of the roof, all attention fixed on scouring the street below.
There... back out on the main street, beyond the few pedestrians that were beginning to loiter, drawn by the free drama of a major crime scene, Matt could hear a female officer asking quiet questions to an inconsolable woman. There was a soft drape of fabric, a blanket being thrown around shivering shoulders. Safe in the back of the patrol car the officer was asking calmly what she saw, what happened, was she hurt in any way?
He clambered around the edge of a water tower, past the low hum of a lift engine control room, moving as close as possible to focus on the conversation. Willing the woman to have something... Some scrap of information he could chase mercilessly through the night.
The victim was young, her voice breathless and wet, hot tears tracking steadily down each cheek. "Someone grabbed for my bag, no...I didn't see them clearly, I screamed and before I knew it, that guy ran across the road. Scared me half to death in that outfit. He... He wrestled my bag back, chased off the thief... But then..."
She seemed to falter, the officer murmuring words of comfort, there was the rough sigh of her shoulder being squeezed encouragingly through the woollen blanket.
"Then some other guys started a fight with him, pushed him into the alley." Her voice fell to a hush, just a whisper "a car pulled up... Two guys got out... That's when I... I heard the shots... He's... He's dead isn't he?"
Her heartbeat although stressed, had the steadiness of truth about it. Matt grimaced, listening to the officer gently push for a description.
"I didn't get a good look, I'm sorry... They were tall, dark hair, one skinny, curly hair, down to about here?... The other... broad, big type... you know?. The car was dark... Silver maybe... I'm so... so sorry..."
He could hear the breath catch in her throat, tears rolling freely, her hands pressing hard over her eyes. "I heard one them laugh... he laughed... as they got back into the car..."
Matt paced back to the edge of the roof as the patrol car eventually pulled away, dipping his head as a cold fury coursed through him.
There was hardly anything to go on... Nothing decent... Not yet...
Just on the edge of his senses, something else scratched for attention. He snapped his head around angrily, testing the air, searching the other rooftops... something or someone?...
No... nothing... all was quiet.
Whatever it was... had gone.