Chapter 6: Resolve

A/N: It's been a while, sorry. Sorry if this isn't the best chapter, I was under a lot of stress when I wrote it. Next chapter will be much more entertaining and won't take months for me to write.

Following the less than fruitful visit to the police station you returned home even angrier than you'd left it. You went in fully expecting that criminal charges would be filed against your perpetrator and his men.

At the beginning, they seemed willing to provide you with the proper assistance for your situation. You were heavily considering filing a complaint on the department as a whole but you doubted that it would actually get anywhere. It would only end up being a massive waste of your time. And even if the complaint did get pushed through, there was still the issue of it being dealt with in a timely manner.

You remember how the men's eyes widened in fear at the mere mention of his name - how quickly their whole demeanor changed.

You easily recalled the man's rattled words. "Who doesn't know who he is?"

Just that one statement spoke volumes about his influence even in a whole other state.

Their behavior transmitted a clear message that conveyed a fair amount to you. They deliberately chose not to act in accordance with your rights. And you had a constitutional right to receive help after being violently assaulted. Truthfully, you had no say in whether the case will be prosecuted or not.

How could they just outright refuse to investigate the crime you reported? A crime that took place in their own city, the city they were charged with protecting. That automatically made it within their jurisdiction. It wasn't a part of any policy you'd ever heard of. It wasn't like you just voiced your grievances with a random officer who was limited in his capabilities. You spoke with actual detectives.

You couldn't simply blame it on their lack of evidence concerning the crime committed against you. There's literal video evidence of the man arriving and leaving your apartment complex. Frankly, you don't think they took an actual record of it. Through it all, you're just having a hard time understanding how they can decline to help you like that. You're sure that their actions were a form of police misconduct.

But the fact of the matter remains that you can't trust the police with the safety of your well-being. Hell, at this point you're not sure if you can trust anyone but yourself with that crucial duty. Honestly, you should've known. Even in the gravest of situations, the cops are never on your side and you've just been reminded of that fact.

You're pissed, enraged that The Joker and his gang can literally break into your house and assault you with no consequences. But what can you do against a vicious crime lord that runs an empire?

Based on their words and conduct, they had no true desire to pursue your case because of who it involved. If you can't get the support of the policy in your own city how could you expect to receive it in another place?

As of now, you've exhausted all of your personal choices and options. If the matter was going to be settled, then you'd just have to take it into your own hands. The second you made it home, you opened your laptop and went to work. For hours, you scrolled through webpage after webpage to no avail. You sought out everything, most of which was legal advice. With your search, you hadn't really come up with anything useful. This didn't deter you, in fact, the lack of real solutions fueled you to continue searching.

So far all you've learned was that you can't sue the department for not protecting or aiding you.

Are you disappointed about it? Yes. Are you stressed about it? Absolutely. But the anger still outweighed everything else. The corners of your mouth still ached vexingly and you seethed inwardly every time you recalled the reason why. Even in the mere hours after he left, the weight of his chaotic aura still lingered heavily within your apartment.

There had to be a way to rid you of a dangerous madman and you weren't going to stop until you found it. Of all the things he's gotten away with, you refused to let your situation be among the rest.

According to what you read, it would mean nothing for him to hurt someone and he didn't need much of a valid reason to. Being a complete monster seems to be ingrained into his very being. In his own twisted words, he may very well be stalking your every move and it's not exactly something you could put past him. Not only that but the man had indicated that he had no intention of leaving you alone anytime soon.

Evidently, Gotham City was notoriously known for its corruption, therefore you don't have to seek out the authorities there to know that you won't be receiving any assistance on that end. Apparently, the city doesn't even have a qualified police force and it's worse than you thought. That meant the man had been allowed to run rampant for years without the threat of someone stopping him. He did whatever he wanted - went wherever he pleased.

From what information you managed to gather on him, you've discovered that he's had a major hand in nearly all the kinds of criminal activities throughout Gotham city and even some other places. He's the very embodiment of a sick man and sick men tend to operate like such. He had not no regard for human life and remains a ruthless sadist down to his core.

However, you did discover that there existed one individual that seemed to want his head on a stick even more than you did. They called him, "Batman." Apparently, he was some kind of nighttime vigilante and he and your attacker had a long-standing feud. Sadly, you had no way of getting in touch with the mysterious, caped crusader that stalked Gotham and inform him of your plight. A criminal clown and elusive character that dressed like a bat, compared to other places Gotham city was certainly weird in more ways than one.

It was hours before you finally closed the laptop and allowed yourself to take a moment to truly think. Reluctantly, you picked up the floor from the floor, mildly surprised to find it still intact and not shattered to pieces from your throw.

At this juncture, you're just going to have to do what the detective implied - seek out your own means of protection. The mere idea seemed like a desperate one but it required a steadfast resolve. And at the present, your resolve had never been more firm.

You hardly slept through the night, you might've gotten maybe five hours of sleep but it felt like you only slept for about thirty minutes.

Most devastating of all, you didn't like the effect the man was having on your psyche. Never in your life had anyone had you scared to leave your home or look over your shoulder perpetually. Every time you hear a random noise, it puts you on edge. It wasn't you - this paranoid, fearful person. Worse still, you don't know if there's a way to shut off the unpleasant feelings, at least not to your knowledge. You were having a hard time concentrating on certain tasks and you always found your mind wandering at the worst of times.

You watched your phone anxiously despite initially calling yourself ignoring its existence. Every time it dinged or rung, you're placed further on the edge. You had no desire to have that mocking voice or that shrill laugh in your ear once more.

Though you refused to admit it, with the thought of possibly being watched in mind, you had essentially shut yourself in your apartment. You didn't even entertain the thought of going out. For days, you stewed in your wrath, holding unto that anger for long extended amounts of time. It's extremely unhealthy, detrimental and terribly exhausting but you couldn't seem to let go. The mere thought of him was enough to have you burning hotter than the fires of hell. Even your boss had expressed concern for you using all your vacation days for the year in one setting.

He was the main source of your emotional stress. It was as if he was controlling you even though he wasn't present. As far as you were concerned, no one had any right to exercise control over any aspect of your life besides you. He couldn't turn you into a victim, you refused to give him the satisfaction.

You kept at it until sudden accumulation of trash building in your apartment because too much of a nuisance to ignore. Since when did taking out the trash and discarding it into the huge dumpster outside the building become such a chore? You think the anxiety mostly stemmed from you not wanting to go outside.

Once you dumped the trash, you took the elevator and rode up in silence. The usual elevator music didn't play for some reason. The doors opened and you started the normal trek down the corridor. In the stride, you notice your neighbor talking with a man, who upon seeing you coming decides to take his leave. You get a feeling a 'transaction' had just taken place between the men. You'd figured out what the guy did a longtime ago. After thinking about it for days, you found out that you can't legally obtain a gun license for a number of months. What difference would it make for you to buy one from your shady neighbors?

In hindsight, you never do anything without weighing the consequences of your actions beforehand. You have no clue if what you're doing was within the bounds of the law and truthfully you don't care all that much. The law itself wouldn't protect you.

As far as you know, it was impossible to legally obtain a gun permit in a timely manner that benefited you. That made it a huge issue since you considered yourself to be in a timed critical situation. You didn't know when the man would return especially after there was no indication of his first unexpected visit to your place of residence. He knew where you lived and he knew where your friends lived. What else did he know about you?

The man briefly made eye contact with you before offering a smile and beginning to retreat back into his apartment.

Summoning up all your courage, you inhaled a deep breath before approaching.

"Excuse me…I'd like to make a…purchase with you." You nervously uttered.

Well that didn't sound suspicious at all.

With one hand still on the door frame, he appeared startled by the admission, eyebrows nearly rising to his hairline.

Straight away, he was scrutinizing you. "You with the cops?"

"No."

"Sounds like something a cop would say. How do I know you're legit?" He questioned.

"I know that you've been selling things out of your apartment since you've lived here, which is coming up on a about a year now. If I wanted to snitch you out, I could've done it a long time ago." You reasoned.

He silently contemplated your bold words, presumably taking them with a grain of salt. If he was a good dealer then it made sense. As it turns out, he just might be a good judge of character seeing how his eyes softened and that smile returned.

He leaned against the door frame, taking out a cigarette with the intention of lighting it. Smoke bellowed along the space between the two of you. "You know…I didn't take you for someone that does drugs."

"I don't!"

Despite never actually meeting him, you would've never thought his personality was so eccentric. Although you suppose that all drug and weapons dealers can't all be serious.

Even seeing him in passing, you never entertained the thought of stopping to chat with him as you doubted that there was any kind of small talk to be made with him. What could you two possibly have in common?

He's tall and leaner than you remember him being. With a mop of messy blonde hair atop his head that looked as if he didn't comb it when he left the bed. There were heavy bags under his eyes and he wore a thin bathrobe that exposed a portion of his chest. Also his stubble looked like it hadn't been shaved or groomed in weeks.

He pushed off the frame and allowed you space to enter the apartment. You hesitated for only a second before obliging him. He closed the door behind you.

Once inside, you drew in a sharp breath. The guy's place gave the word 'unkempt' a new meaning. The place was almost bare except for a few pieces of furniture that indicated that someone was definitely living in the space. And it smelled like stale sweat and something else.

Not only that but the place just had a scrubby appearance, much like it's occupant. Every surface looked like it contained a thick layer of dust mixed with grime. The guy probably never even used a broom in his life. Honestly, this place should be quarantined off from the rest of the apartments. In retrospect, you probably should've worn a mask just to enter, lest you catch some airborne disease or inhale an unknown substance.

As a person who valued cleanliness and order, you were appalled at the man's living conditions. Then again, what would you expect from a sleazy drugs and arms dealer?

He rolled his shoulders. "Sorry, I didn't have time to clean up the place. I didn't know I would have an unexpected guest over."

"Do you run a meth lab here?" You questioned, side eyeing him.

"Hold on. I don't deal in meth." He corrected what you assume was a strong sense of morality.

"Oh yeah? What about cocaine?"

"Don't you think you're asking too many questions?" He challenged. "I'm just a simple businessman. I'm not a bad guy, I just do these things." He started massaging the back of his neck. "Now here's the thing, I don't just sell drugs. I run a small operation servicing a few loyal clients. It keeps the business flowing smoothly."

You honestly couldn't care less but you didn't tell him that.

"I just have one question. If you knew why didn't you say anything?" He questioned.

Your brows lowered. "Because I like to mind my own business."

Apparently, he approved of your answer because he subtly nodded. "I guess I can help out a friendly neighbor that needs it."

"Uh huh. Listen…I want to buy a gun. That's it." You ensued.

In defiance of your confident words, it really pained you to have to say it especially since you've never been a fan of guns in the first place. In fact, you practically condemned all organizations that openly advocated their support of gun carrying. But if no one else could help you then you had to help yourself.

His eyebrows rose and he titled his head at you suspiciously. "Might I inquire as to why you want to buy a gun from me?"

"Why do you want to know?" You snapped defensively.

"Well…if the neighbor that goes out of her way to avoid looking my way suddenly wants to do business with me. I think I'm owed some explanation don't you think?" He replies while he folds his arms.

"I want to shoot somebody."

"Yeah no shit." He looked at you more seriously, obviously expecting a more detailed explanation than the one you provided.

Admittedly, you have to keep in mind that you were asking for one of his guns - guns that he can choose to refuse to give you if he wanted. You can't afford to bite the hand that feeds you at this point. Currently, it's in your best interests to answer any questions he might have.

You sighed, visibly deflating. "They did…some really bad things to me."

"Bad things?"

You bit the inside of your lips, eyes starting to water despite your pained effort to keep them at bay. "Yeah." You mumbled.

With your utterance, his gaze seemed to sharpen and you could see that he was making assumptions in his head. Putting things together out of nothing. The guy was peculiar but he seemed to resonate with your vague reasoning on why you wanted to purchase a firearm.

"And you plan to shoot them for revenge?"

"Only if they come back." You assured him.

"Sounds logical." He nodded. "The guy sounds like a piece of work."

You balled your fist inside your jacket. Oh he had no idea.

Considering that the man was engaged in criminal activities and you were now a witness to that fact, you were not the slightest bit bothered about admitting your true intentions to him. With the little 'operation' he's happily running out of his apartment, you doubt he's going to rat you out.

Walking over to a wall, he removed a funny looking painting that concealed a square lining. He keyed in a passcode that allowed that square lining to open, revealing the type of safe. Within that safe, you easily spotted all kinds of items, some of which you couldn't even make out.

Slightly aghast, you inspected his arsenal of weapons. How the hell did he even get all of these into the building without being noticed? Likely the same way, crime lords and their minions can come and go in your apartment building as they pleased without getting noticed. God, the place needed better security.

He nonchalantly hands you a small compact pistol; it's black and much heavier than you expect it to be. Immediately, you make the distinction of how weird it felt in your hand, almost like it didn't belong there. Probably because it didn't.

"That beauty is a semi-automatic pistol, it has one of the most precise shots. It's definitely one of those weapons that'll get the job you want done."

"I'm not a hitman."

"You don't have to be."

You inspected the gun a little more before asking another important question. "Do you legally own this?"

"What do you think?"

That's good at least. That means it can't be traced and you don't have to worry about getting caught. That way he can't be held liable for any crime that you might commit. That is, if you're not thwarted in your efforts. In your eyes, your actions could very well be treated as a self-defense circumstance.

"How much?"

He seemed to think on it for a moment, rubbing his chin as he stared down at you. You prayed that he wasn't about to make you a strange proposition in exchange because that would really mess up the transaction.

"No charge."

"What?" You asked dumbfounded.

"I decided not to charge you for it so long as you bring it back."

"But why?"

"Do I really need to say…" Something flashed in his eye too quickly for you to decipher. If you had to guess, you would say it was solidarity but you had no true way of knowing unless he outright confirmed it.

In the end, you suppose he doesn't need to voice his reasoning behind it but you understood anyway.

The handgun lay placidly in the box left open on the coffee table in front of you. You've scanned it's inanimate characteristics ever since you begrudgingly brought it inside of your apartment. It looks so out of place on the table. Hell, it didn't even belong in your immediate vicinity.

At first, your resolve was rock solid and practically unshakeable. But now, it feels irreversibly torn under the pressure of your latest decision you've just begun to implement.

You lowered your head unto your hands.

The whole reason you even obtained the gun was to protect yourself from a man that had wronged you and would continue to try and do so in the near future. It wasn't like he didn't have it coming. You could never be understanding of that type of behavior he was fond of displaying.

You put a substantial amount of thought into it and you would rather make the necessary moves to end his streak of violence against you than to continue to unwillingly accommodate it. You're desperate and there's no denying that.

In your mind, this was the only way. You don't do this solely out of concern for yourself but also for your loved ones. It wasn't hard to conceptualize that if he and his goons returned then there would be nothing and no one that could protect you. And that distressed you way more than a customized steel gun in your mouth.

Regardless of how insane the man might appear to be, he's proven himself to be a strategic planner with a pension of staying five steps ahead of everyone else. From what you know, he often had situations planned out well in advance and could anticipate what the next person might do and act accordingly. Well, perhaps it's time for you to be ahead of him. You know what you're up against and there's a certain way you have to go about your retaliation.

The jarring clap of thunder instantly woke you from a deep slumber. You blinked against the darkness of the room. Small snippets of lightning illuminated the bedroom and you could tell though the closed binds that the sky was still dark. Shortly after, you're sitting up and begin glancing around the darkened room.

The outside winds whistled loudly and you sighed. It wouldn't be the first time a storm woke you up in the middle of the night. You only hope that the resulting storm doesn't knock out the power in the midst of it raging. In some aspects, a storm would actually help you sleep better but for some reason, it leaves you remarkably restless. Even though you didn't bother to check the weather app on your phone, you know the storm probably won't let up for a while.

Pushing the sheets away, you pivot and place your feet on the floor. You leave the bed with the intention of heading to the bathroom. Instantly, you notice that there's a chill in the air that you briefly think of knocking out with a single bottom from the thermometer but you decide against it knowing you'll regret it once you settle comfortably back in bed.

When you reach the bathroom, you stop in front of the sink. In the mirror, your face looks every bit as tired as your body feels. You specifically take note of the growing bags under your eyes that expressly calls attention to that weariness. Turning both taps, you wait a second for the water flow before bending at the waist. You splash water along your face a few times to get rid of the thin layer of sweat. Afterward you use the nearby towel to dry your face of any moisture.

Through all of this you can't help but notice that the surrounding atmosphere feels strange, eerie.

When you move to close the cabinet, a figure is standing close behind you and you barely have time to part your lips to scream before both hands come up to clasp around your neck.

You jolt awake.

Your breath was coming in and out in a hurry.

As you shoot up in bed, both of your hands immediately fly to your neck. It takes a moment for it to sink in that there's no man with his hands wrapped around your throat. It was all a dream. It's all so bizarre because it certainly didn't feel like a dream.

It had been a while since you had a nightmare as disturbing as that and you associate it with stress right away. Truthfully, it's not hard to make the distinction. You can't act like you haven't been under a mountain of mental duress for a while now and now you're dreaming of home invasions and men trying to do you harm.

Despite not falling back asleep like you wanted, you lay in bed until the clock hit around ten before forcing yourself to finally get up.

When the light sound of your front door slowly creeping open reached your ears you froze. It takes only a millisecond to realize that someone was trying to quietly enter your apartment. For a brief moment, you entertained the thought of running to get the gun stored in the top drawer of your nightstand but there was a slight guarantee that you wouldn't make it in time.

Your mind is running a mile a minute with all sorts of possibilities and scenarios when a familiar face appears around the corner. The defensive stance you unknowingly took up suddenly dropped in what you recognize as sheer relief.

In truth, you just relieved that it wasn't what you believed it to be. Otherwise you would've made a grave mistake.

"Josh what I told you about just bursting in my house?!" You called after your brother.

"You knew it was me." He answered, fully rounding the corner that goofy smile you'd grown used to seeing over the years. Unfortunately, the smile wasn't enough to dismiss his latest actions.

"And if I didn't? You know people usually call before they just show up at somebody's house."

"And people usually keep their door locked so others can't just walk in too." He countered as he walked leisurely into the kitchen and snatched up a piece of bacon from the folded paper towel.

At the small discomfort shooting up your arm, you glanced down at your hand gripping the handle of the butter knife. You hadn't even realized that you never let go of it. You were fully prepared to stab someone in the eye with a knife you were just using to cut your pancakes. It's an amusing thought.

"Yeah you're just lucky you didn't get sliced and diced." You say as you resettled on the stool at your kitchen island. "What you doing here anyway?"

"I need a reason to come visit my big sister?" He explains placing his hand over his chest, feigning hurt.

"Mmmhhh. What you want?"

"Actually I came to see if you had any aspirin. These work headaches aren't a joke. I didn't have any at the house and I didn't want to spend any money at the store so…"

You turned your attention back to the plate of breakfast. "Look in the bathroom cabinet." You directed as you shoved a pancake into your mouth.

He had disappeared all for about five minutes before he stomped back to the doorway of the kitchen.

"Um…what the fuck is this?!" He shouted, his eyes widened to a comical degree.

In his raised hand was the case holding the firearm case that you had hidden deep in your nightstand. Inwardly, you sighed but you tried not to giggle when you saw how he was holding the box.

"Didn't I tell you to look in the bathroom, why were you going through my nightstand?"

"Fuck that. What is this?"

"A gun." You said, still chewing the food in your mouth nonchalantly.

"Why the hell do you need a gun?"

"For protection."

"Protection from what exactly?"

"People."

"Did something happen?"

Despite the knowledge that your brother loved you and would do anything for you, you can't tell him. You could not tell your brother that you'd been attacked by a crime lord who was set on making your life a living hell. There's no aspect about your situation that would go over well with him.

You know what his reaction would be - he'd go on a crusade and try to take matters into his own hands. Regardless of how ardent your brother was, you know that there's nothing he can do against the man in question and you would not see your brother hurt or dead because of it.

Like any younger brother, he's protective over you, his only sibling and sister. When you both were younger, it used to annoy you a lot but now you're realizing more than ever that you actually appreciate the conscientiousness over your well-being. As siblings, you grew up closer than ever, always looking out for each other even in the craziest of circumstances. Helping one another had become second nature. Only this time - he couldn't help you. As a matter of fact, there wasn't a single thing he could do for you even if he might not see it that way.

You saw how he looked over the pictures of your family in the front room. There's never been any doubt in your mind that the man was above harming innocent people to get his way. That included your family.

"No. Why do you-" You started.

He says your name in that firm, more severe tone of voice than he usually does when he's worried. "Don't lie to me."

"I said no okay."

"Don't you have to have a permit or something to carry this?" He asked.

"Yeah."

"Do you have one?"

You shrugged nonchalantly. "Nope."

"What the shit!"

"Just drop it, I don't want to talk about it. Just get the aspirin from the cabinet and stop going through my shit." You demanded, snatching the case out of his hands and moving around him. You drowned out his continued rambling as you headed back to your bedroom to put the gun back in the nightstand.

In the midst of you placing the gun back, your phone vibrated along the surface of the nightstand.

You swiped the screen before placing it to your ear. "Candace for the last time, I don't know that guy's Instagram."

"I would surely hope not."

All the blood in your veins chilled instantly and your grip on the phone almost slipped. The male voice on the other end of the phone was certainly not your friend's. Your heart started beating that much harder in your chest.

"Have you been a good girl since I've been gone?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" You sneered

"Of course! I do like to check up on my things…make sure they're secure." His tone was snide and gloating as if he were purposely trying to get under your skin. Knowing him, in all likelihood, he was.

Per his own words, he expected you to pick up when he called, when or wherever that may be. Of course, the man anticipated that you'd be at his beck and call - it's exactly the kind of thing you expected from a mentally deranged man.

"You never did answer my question gorgeous."

"I wasn't going to asshole."

"Oh there's that fire! It makes me miss you all the more…I can't wait to see you burn that bright in person." He excitedly confessed.

Before you could stop yourself, the scathing words shot out of your mouth.

"You'll never get the chance again." You hissed into the phone venomously.

"Is that what you think?"

A boisterous laugh rang out on the other end of the phone and without thinking you subsequently hung up, not wanting to listen to it any further.

The phone dropped and hung at your side for a long moment, you stared at the edge of the stand for long moments afterwards.

That bastard. That fucking bastard. How dare he call you gloat!

You squeezed your phone tighter in your hand to the point where the muscles there started to get numb from the pain. He could terrorize anyone he wanted in the world, why did it have to be you of all people? He couldn't be allowed to continue victimizing you.

That one phone call stomped out all the doubt clinging to you and gave you all the resolve you needed. No, you were ready to end this. For good.

You're coming for that bastard's head.

Tumblr: teejaywyatt.1