"After three similar cases, police are investigating the possibility of a new serial killer operating in the city. The most recent case took place on Wednesday afternoon, when a 25-year-old woman was found dead in the alley of 47th Street in the Greenville neighborhood after being brutally beaten and sexually assalted. Unlike the previous victims, this was the first time the suspect's actions were recorded by a surveillance camera. The images show a masked person approaching the victim, before immobilizing her and dragging her out of view.
Continuing our news round-up, the masked vigilantes were credited with dismantling a gang that was breaking into apartments and evicting residents from a housing estate..."
Santana turned off the news channel that was broadcast live on the social video network. She hated the news, but she watched that channel specifically because Mercedes was an intern at that company, which gave her the impression that that news group had the potential to be less untruthful.
"Babe, come to bed. Tomorrow's Saturday and we should make love late into the night."
Santana looked at the woman and sighed in admiration. She was with Jennifer May, or Jenny to her close friends. The two had met in Santana's freshman year, while Jenny was in her third year of psychology. The older girl was a wealthy student, and Santana was simply an 18-year-old engineering freshman who lived in a dormitory in the building known for housing scholarship and poor students. Jenny, who was a very influential young lesbian on campus, was known for being highly selective in her sexual partners, even if it was only for one night. The night they bumped into each other, everything indicated that Jenny and Santana would be a one-night stand. History said otherwise, and there were many nights. But the two were never on the same page.
Jenny, as has been said, was born into a family that was rich and traditional, with oil investors, lawyers and politicians in the family tree. Santana came from a humble family in which she was the first one to get into university. Santana's father was a nurse and her mother was a real estate agent. Santana grew up in a lower middle class neighborhood, went to public school where she met her lifelong best friend, Mercedes Jones, and her first love, Brittany Pierce. For Santana, there was nothing wrong with having a few nights with a beautiful woman who came from one of the most influential families in the city. There were times when being with Jenny was fun, especially when Santana was introduced to people from high society, and was seen as an exotic animal in the middle of a two-way zoo.
Santana and Jenny seemed incompatible in personality and life goals, but they had chemistry under the sheets. It was for this reason that the two met up again more often than Santana would have liked, to the point where Jenny considered Santana to be her girlfriend, even though the engineering student vehemently denied it.
"Santana!" Jenny went into the living room of the small apartment where she lived, and found her girlfriend in front of the computer. "I'm ready for you."
"Cool." Santana continued to stare at the computer screen. "Jenny... what do you know about these serial criminals?"
"Why are you asking me this now? This subject isn't exactly sexy."
"Because you're a psychologist and because I'm curious."
"Well..." Jenny closed her robe and sat down on the rug in the small living room, next to Santana. "What do you want to know?"
"Is there a pattern to these serial abusers?"
"Yes, there are some patterns. They're usually psychopaths. Some develop this disorder as a result of a childhood and adolescence of abuse, but this is not a rule, because other psychopaths come from a perfectly normal family with a good socio-economic situation. They are also intelligent and very articulate."
"What about the relationship with the victim? Is there a pattern?"
"A psychopath is not necessarily a murderer. Psychopathy is a disorder in which the person doesn't express any empathy for others. And when they kill, they don't do it gratuitously. There is a motivation, a tare, a trigger that varies from case to case. In a way, there has to be a connection. In college, I read about a case of a serial killer who was motivated by his victims' feet. The trigger was always women wearing red nail polish... this guy killed seven women! He would approach them in a social place, like a bar, seduce them, have apparently consensual sex, then strangle them and take their big toes as a prize."
"Really?" Santana made an expression of disgust.
"Most of them always take some kind of prize, like an object from the victim or a curl of hair... or body parts. That's usually their mistake. It's how the police manage to frame them. Why do you ask?"
"It's because I saw on the news that a guy has been beating and raping young women... I know one victim who survived."
"Is that one of your conquests?" Jenny was jealous, but curious.
"No... her name is Rachel Berry. I must have mentioned her once. She's the annoying amateur theater diva who tries to sabotage Mercedes." Santana frowned for a moment. "Is she still at risk for having survived?"
"There's no way of knowing." Jenny closed Santana's computer and pulled her face into a kiss. "You didn't come here to discuss psychopathy or serial killers with me, did you?"
Santana stared at Jenny and brought her face close to kiss her. Without wasting time, her hand went down her lower abdomen and Santana's fingers began to rotate the small sexual organ, to stimulate her partner's pleasure. Jenny opened her robe and lay down on the living room floor, inviting Santana to place his head between her legs.
...
Marley thanked Artie for the dessert. Ever since she mentioned that she liked strawberry Jell-O, her co-worker assumed that it was her favorite dessert, and bought it from the same place at least once a week. Jelly and strawberries was not Marley's favorite dessert, and she was a little sick of eating it every week. But she didn't tell Artie the truth so as not to hurt his feelings.
"The casino staff are in trouble." George broke the news.
"What happened?"
"They stole 100 thousand dollars from the tables, and they lost the guys' pictures."
"Heads are going to roll." Marley said as she swallowed the strawberry jelly.
"Josh's head will roll." Artie argued. "He's the head of security. If you ask me? Well done."
"Still hurt because he called you an amateur?" Marley laughed.
"Karma is a bitch." Artie sentenced. "By the way, what are you singing tonight?" He turned to Marley.
"Tonight? Nothing."
"Why?"
"Because tonight I'll be in the audience. A friend of mine, who is also a songwriter, is going to perform the songs she wrote. They're beautiful."
"Who is she?"
"Marissa Blando. You have to see her. She's absolutely fabulous."
The working day went without a hitch. Gossip about the cheating in the casino spread among the employees, despite the instructions that the subject was strictly forbidden to be discussed. There were even threats that if the subject reached the press, heads would roll within the company. For Marley, none of this interested her. She would gain absolutely nothing by leaking the information to journalists. The IT trio's work concerned the hotel, but not the casino, which was managed by its own system, with its own staff. That's why the investigation into the cheating didn't knock on Marley, Artie and George's door.
Marley walked to her usual bar at the end of the day. Not even Artie accompanied her that day, as he argued that he had another commitment. The crowd she would meet at the bar was much closer to the friends she had in common with Unique, than the geeks with a passion for electronics and computers. When Marley arrived, she greeted Roderick Meeks, who organized the schedule of shows and events at the bar, as well as being one of the partners in the enterprise. Roderick also had a recording studio that he used to rent out to independent artists who were looking for sound and mixing quality that was a little better than in the studios set up in their garages at home.
"Is Melissa here?" Marley asked Roderick.
"She's over there warming up her voice."
By warming up her voice, she meant having a few shots of cognac. Marley went over to her friend. The two hugged and kissed on the cheek. Smiles were plentiful. Roderick introduced the evening's attraction. Melissa took to the small stage and took over the keyboard, accompanied by Raphael on the guitar. The evening was a success. Marley was thrilled with her friend, who performed a beautiful setlist of six original songs. Melissa was an indie folk artist with a deep, husky voice. She put so much energy into her performances that she was compared to an erupting volcano.
One celebratory drink later, Marley decided to return to the hotel. This time in the direction of the nightclub where Unique used to shine. Marley arrived, coincidentally, in the middle of Unique's powerful belting, in which she held the note for 15 seconds. Of course, the audience loved seeing this huge trans woman in her sparkly dress dominate the stage and the audience as if she owned the world. Marley applauded her friend, and even had the chance to see her sing the last song of the night, when the nightclub closed its stage and became a regular bar where people listened and danced to music coming from a jukebox, played pool and drank until they got too drunk.
"Marley, darling!" Unique greeted her best friend as soon as she saw her in the dressing room. "To what do I owe the honor? It's been weeks since you've seen me on stage."
"I was at the bar watching Melissa and decided to spend the night with you."
"How was she?"
"Divine. She got over her stage fright with a few shots of cognac, but it was fine."
Marley helped her friend take off her wig and then unzipped her dress. Unique had breast implants, but didn't take hormones for fear of the drugs altering her voice. She wasn't thinking of having genital adjustment surgery either, because Unique had never been bothered by her own penis, let alone the men she had sex with.
Marley and Unique had a friendship that went back to high school. Marley was an 11-year-old child in the midst of a bunch of hormonal teenagers and boys who saw her as prey. Unique, three years older, was the one who protected her throughout high school. At the time, Unique was still an alter ego of Wade Adams, whose mother was a pastry chef and father was head of the security team at a local company. Wade Adams was a gay boy who liked to wear women's clothes at home, but didn't risk doing so at school. Wade became Unique in his last year of high school, in an act of self-affirmation supported especially by his mother and Marley.
The relationship between Unique and Marley was briefly interrupted when the younger girl went to another city to study at one of the best universities in the country. Unique continued her project of being the best singer and performer possible. When Marley lost her scholarship, it was Unique who proposed that they share an apartment, and the friendship was re-established.
"Do you have plans for the evening?" Marley asked.
"I don't, and if you must know, I'm not even in the mood to ask the girls if they want to spend the night somewhere else. What do you say we go home and watch a movie?" Unique proposed.
"You're very homely these days. Are you sure you're fine?"
"I'm a bit fed up with the nightlife. I think I need a vacation."
"I think so too. You know what? We should use our savings to spend a week on a beach in the Caribbean."
"That would be perfect."
"Then I think you should get back to your project of joining Shelby Corcoran's company."
"Is that so? I make more money here."
"But you'd be more noticed and your talent would be better recognized on an important musical theater stage."
Unique finished changing and finally hugged her friend from the side.
"I'll consider your proposal, but first, I want to lie in my warm bed, watch a movie with you, only to fall asleep ten minutes later. What do you think?"
"It's a perfect plan for tonight."
The drive home was quiet. The neighborhood was going about its business as usual, and the only passionate discussion between Marley and Unique was about which movie to watch, even though they would both fall asleep during the screening. The next day, Marley was the first to wake up, as usual. She had her coffee, went to exercise, and was grateful that it was the weekend. Unique was the one who had a work commitment that Saturday, when she had to perform at the nightclub in the evening. Marley didn't want to leave the house that weekend. She spent the day watching movies. Even the food came by delivery that day. When Unique left for work in the late afternoon, Marley wished her good luck and apologized for not being willing to see Unique's performance that Saturday.
Then her phone alerted her that a message had arrived.
"Everyone, it's very sad to inform you this way, but it's better this way than on the news tomorrow. Our dear Melissa was found dead this morning." - Rodrick
Marley was shocked!
...
Rachel was apprehensive about returning to work. The psychologist encouraged her to continue living her life, because if she succumbed to fear and isolation, she would also be allowing her abuser to exercise complete dominance. To help Rachel Berry return to the world she had spent almost a month hiding from, Finn promised to help her with whatever she needed, especially transportation. He dropped her off at work, promising to return at the end of the day.
"Rachel!" The diva sighed as she recognized her enemy's voice.
"Jane..."
"I just wanted to say I'm glad you're back." Jane expressed rare sympathy.
What Rachel had suffered caused a certain commotion and sympathy in those who knew her. It was at these moments that Rachel couldn't decide whether such reactions were desirable or not. Deep down, all she wanted was normality. She preferred the unsympathetic Jane, she preferred her detractors to remain open about their feelings. Because Rachel knew that sympathy was temporary, and she feared getting used to it and getting hurt when the truce period was over. Nevertheless, she smiled at Jane.
"Thank you, Jane. That means a lot to me."
Rachel put on her full uniform and went to the front of the line. The restaurant would open in five minutes. On normal days, without attractions, it took at least half an hour for the first customer to show up to consume what amounted to an afternoon snack or happy hour. On days with popular cultural attractions, there was a queue as soon as it opened. But that was just a normal day, with no musical or cultural attractions. Nothing more than the usual services: good meals, good drinks, all at a price that was out of touch with the real value of things.
The first customers appeared. Then others came along and Rachel began to reacquaint herself with the work after a month's hiatus. No client knew her story, no client knew what she had suffered. For the first time, Rachel realized that anonymity could be a very good thing, that hers, Burt's and Leroy's decision to block any attempt to divulge the details of the supposed first victim of an apparent serial killer was extremely wise. Rachel, in fact, didn't want the same attention that Tina got the month before, when she was a near-victim of a vigilante action.
"What a crap night." Carl complained.
"Not many quality tips." Rachel agreed as she counted out her share. "But it's better than having nothing. I spent a month depending on my dad, and I'm going to spend a month depending on my best friend until I can pay my own bills again. It's a horrible feeling to have to depend on other people."
Carl agreed as he took off his uniform. What was so trivial made Rachel feel uncomfortable. She smiled at her friend, picked up her cell phone and left the changing room with the excuse that she needed to make a call. In fact, she really needed to find out about Finn. There were no messages from him, so she called. Finn didn't pick up. Rachel started to worry and called Kurt.
"Hey Rach." His friend answered.
"Kurt, do you know where Finn is? He's supposed to pick me up."
"Oh... that's right."
"What happened?"
"Finn was very vocal about wanting to face the vigilante because of what happened to you."
"What?"
"He texted me like he'd gotten a date with an informer. I don't know if he fell for it."
"Kurt, we're talking about Finn." Rachel said distressed.
"Yes... he probably fell for it. It's probably just some idiot who wants easy money. I tried to put some sense in his head, but Finn don't listen me. He never did!"
"I'll call the police now."
"Don't worry. Wait a while, maybe ten minutes. If he doesn't get there in time, get a cab and come home."
Rachel hung up the phone and panicked. She grabbed her belongings from the restaurant's locker room and left still dressed in her uniform. The agony made her not even wait for her usual companions. Rachel walked towards the subway at a fast pace. However, before she could get down to the station, she was approached by a masked person. She looked around and found it ironic that the streets were always empty at a time like that.
"I'm the vigilante. Be quiet." The masked man ordered.
Rachel tried to disobey and scream at the top of her lungs. But she clearly felt herself being hit by something, some kind of forceful pressure that seemed to strangle her throat. Even so, she tried, but no sound came out. The masked man pulled her into an area between streets that gave access to a small park that existed there, one of those busy during the day and avoided at night.
"You shouldn't have escaped the first time." The masked man dragged her into the park, and Rachel tried to scream, but no voice came out. "It won't happen again."
Panic took over Rachel's body when the masked man threw her to the ground as if in a judo move. Rachel hit the grass with her back and lost her breath. That was it. She knew there was no way out. She couldn't scream and she would be no match in a fight against this man who was willing to do to her everything he had done the first time, except he would be careful not to leave her alive. That's when the unexpected happened. Rachel's vision was blurry, but she saw a second masked person grab her attacker and literally throw him away with a strength that a human being could not possess. Rachel could watch a seemingly unfair fight in which one of the masked men was breaking the other's face until one of them fell and was immobilized at the wrists with a plastic strap that police officers used to handcuff a large number of people.
Finally, his mask was removed. Rachel reluctantly approached. She could simply run, but curiosity got the better of her. The vigilante seemed to be trying to say something, but his voice wouldn't come out either. He pointed to his own throat and then signaled as if to ask if Rachel was listening. Rachel ignored the guard for a moment and saw the man without the mask. Her heart leapt again when she realized that she knew this guy as a repeat customer of the restaurant.
The guard touched her on the shoulder and this ignited another wave of panic in Rachel. Her body began to shake uncontrollably, she felt short of breath, and her stomach felt like it was on fire. This wave of shock, burning and panic moved to her arms, and Rachel pushed the guard. She didn't push him: she literally threw him against a tree, and then fainted.
Rachel thought she had fainted for a second, because when she raised her head again, she saw the man with his wrists tied still on the ground, and the second masked man sitting against the tree, apparently passed out. For the second time, Rachel could have run away, but for the second time, curiosity took over. She went over to the masked man slumped against the tree. Without hesitation, she removed his mask and was even more shocked that she also knew that person.
"S.. ." It was all the voice she could produce at that moment.
The vigilante woke up and his eyes widened in panic when he saw himself without his mask. The vigilante stood up on impulse and his expression was literally one of shock and awe at having had his identity compromised. The vigilante kept trying to speak, but during the clash with the serial killer, he was hit by some kind of wave that compressed his throat and left him voiceless. But that wasn't the worst of it. The vigilante was also very surprised to realize that he had been felled by a very strong wave of energy that came from Rachel Berry.
There was a movement in the distance. The vigilante took the mask from Rachel's hands, put it back on and pulled her out of the way. The serial killer was still tied up and without his mask. In the distance, they saw a guard from the small park approaching and already radioing for backup. The vigilante pulled Rachel along, holding her by the collar of her uniform all the way from the restaurant to the edge of the park, and from there pointed to the subway station, as if telling her to go home. Rachel wanted to obey, but at some point during the serial killer's approach, her bag fell out.
"Ah... ah... ss... sss." Her voice still wouldn't come out and finally she gestured with her finger that she was out of money and another gesture that she was out of her cell phone.
The vigilante sighed and removed his mask, tucking it inside his large black jacket. Finally, he pointed to the subway entrance, as if inviting Rachel to follow. Rachel and the guard sat side by side in the carriage. It was an unusual and extremely uncomfortable situation. Rachel signaled that she should get off at that station, and the guard got up to accompany her. They walked side by side in a completely uncomfortable situation until Rachel arrived at the entrance to the building where she shared an apartment with Kurt.
Rachel wanted to say something, but the vigilante put his index finger to his lips as a sign of silence, as if begging for Rachel's discretion. Finally, he left. Rachel went upstairs to her apartment, unable to cope with her own emotions.
"Rachel!" She heard Kurt shout. "I've been trying to call you for hours. What's happened to you? You're dirty, in your work uniform... disheveled... where's your stuff?"
Rachel stared at her friend and struggled to speak.
"F... F... Finn?" The voice that came out didn't sound like it belonged to her. It was hoarse, strange, and she felt a terrible pain in her throat.
"Finn fell for a hoax because of the nonsense he posted on social media. He called in desperation because when he arrived at the restaurant, you had already left. He's probably still looking for you. Where's your stuff?"
Rachel pointed to her own room and headed for the safety of her own space. She let Kurt sort out the mess with Finn. Because she couldn't do it herself. Rachel lay on her bed, hugged one of the pillows and couldn't sleep. She remained still, in a fetal position, pressing the pillow against her chest for the rest of the night.