Chapter 3 | Lyla
1 0 0
X
Reading Options
Font Size
A- 15px A+
Width
Reset
X
Table of Contents
Loading... please wait.

“These tables aren’t going to clean themselves, Lyla,” Cindy shouted from the front of the store. I stared off into space, lost in my thoughts.

“Coming,” I said. I made my way out and cleaned some tables. After finishing that, I threw the towel into a bucket of sanitizer. “You mind closing up without me?”

“Just means more money for me, go on and head home,” She said, still wiping down the front window. I untied my apron and grabbed a leather jacket and put it on. I left without a word, locking the door behind me and continuing into the world. The streets were quiet, making it a very uneventful walk. I had to walk about a block before I could make it to my car. I had just gotten my license the week before, and just got the job three days ago. I wasn’t about to pay for parking close to the coffee shop, the meters were murder, so I just parked in a garage down the street. My shoes clicked against the concrete as I made my way forward.

I heard rustling to my left, inside of an alley. I kept walking, ignoring it. I assumed it was rats. This city was a dump sometimes. The rustling continued as I made it to the other side of the alley. I peered over and thought I saw an outline of a person standing there, so I quickened my pace. I reached into my purse and grabbed my pepper spray, preparing for the footsteps to approach. My fingers clenched around it with anxiety, shaking. Small steps tapped from the sidewalk behind me, but they weren’t headed towards me. They stopped and I turned around, nothing.

I continued, now at a light jog to get away from the alley. I couldn’t hear behind me from the rush of wind in my ears. I looked back again and somebody was chasing me. A man in a black outfit and a mask sprinted towards me from the alley. I moved faster, making it to the parking garage and beginning towards the stairs at the same speed. They were in the middle of the concrete structure. I barged through the door, and made my way up the stairs skipping two steps at a time and nearly tripping the whole way. Once I had made it to the second floor of the place, I ran to my car and fumbled for my keys. A hand grabbed the back of my head, taking a handful of hair and clutching it into a fist. My scalp screamed in pain, and I whimpered audibly. I tried to reach for the pepper spray on the other hand, but he had already grabbed that hand and stiffened it out.

“Hey, pretty,” His voice was cold and close to my ear. “How about we drop the mace, huh?”

I grunted and tried to take my hand back, but he was stronger than me. I tried to kick at his shins, but he pushed me down to my knees. I dropped the bottle to the ground, and let my arm relax. He did the same, so I swung my purse at his face. It didn’t do much but make him sputter for a second before drawing a gun. He pointed a small pistol to my face and I froze. 

“Not so fun now, is it?” He flicked the barrel towards the purse and back at my nose. “Toss it over, nice and easy,”

I did as he asked, and held as still as possible. He knelt, rummaging through the bag and pointing the gun at me at the same time. A small whoosh of wind sounded behind me and he looked up. He didn’t see anything and ventured deeper into my purse for my wallet. A small knock was made at the front of my car, like the hood had been slapped with a flat palm. The both of us looked over, startled, but nothing was there. He aimed the gun at the front of the car and slowly made his way towards it. I peered over the roof and saw a small black figure moving around to the back of the car. It disappeared after a second. The man had made it to the front of the car and found nothing. He pointed the gun back at me, angered.

“Quit struggling, mess with me again and you’re dead,”

“You talk to all ladies like that?” A deep, slightly familiar voice said. The words echoed across the garage, coming from no particular direction. The robber moved his gun around at the voice echoing.

“Where the hell?”

“Have you checked the front of the car, I heard it’s a nice place to hide,” The voice teased.

The man peered at the hood again, but then growled angrily.

“Quit hiding in the dark!” He pointed the gun around the garage. “If you want to go, we can go, buddy!”

“I actually quite like the dark,” A whisper. The voice was close now. I peered across the garage at a figure in black. He seemed tall, strong. A light flashed highlighting him for a second, then flicking back off. His figure was gone. 

“It’s my home,” This time his voice was right next to me, behind the man. He appeared there out of nowhere. 

He jerked his head back towards the voice, but a gloved fist met it before he could see anything. The man stumbled back, feeling his face. He pointed the gun back at him, but he was gone. He began to run, my purse around his shoulder. He tried the door of the stairs, but it was locked now. I ran behind the car, and peered over to spectate. The man jerked at the handle as a black figure walked slowly towards him, appearing out of the shadows. The figure tapped him on the shoulder, then kicked his leg, punched his face, and then continued to kick the man while he was down. I hid further behind the car and tried to get the image out of my head. I hated fighting, and seeing that was enough to make me nauseous. I wrapped my arms around my knees and buried my head in my jeans. I tried to think happy thoughts as each blow landed and echoed across the walls.

A final thud against the robber landed, and everything went silent. I waited a second before a small shuffle in front of me. My purse landed on the ground at my feet, but the figure was already on the move. I stood and peered to my left, at the opening between pillars that overlooked the city and saw him. It was just a young man, dawning black cargo pants, boots, a thin black hoodie, and a ski mask. He crouched on the edge, preparing to jump. 

“Wait!” I reached out towards him and he froze. “Who are you?”

He hesitated and continued to stare out at the city. Suddenly my mind raced full of thoughts, staring at the back of his head. I saw images, flashes of memories that I had never seen before. I saw scars, so many scars lining the back and chest of a very muscular man. I saw a boy sitting on a ledge, feet hanging down off of a large skyscraper. The back of his head showed brown hair, and he seemed to stare at all of the city, just as this man did now. 

I touched the side of my head, questioning all what I just saw. The man turned and looked at me, a straight face and icy blue eyes through the wool mask. They stared through me for a second, then he dropped off the ledge and into darkness. 

 

I drove home carefully. I didn’t call the police, I hadn’t been hurt. I tried not to feel bad about the man, but he was really messed up when I drove out of there. He was limp, but I believe he was breathing. My hands shook at the wheel as I turned into my neighborhood. I parked in the driveway and made my way up the sidewalk to the front door. I heard nothing inside, my parents were already asleep. I trudged up the stairs and shut my door tight behind me. I sat on my bed and recounted the last hour, moment by moment. Who was the man that had saved me? I had to find out.

I whipped out a laptop and started to search. I thought Google might be a good start, so I searched for vigilante sightings in Lyndontown. I got a few things, just small shakedowns being stopped by an unknown person in black. A few muggers were arrested after being attacked by a fifteen year old kid today, but that sounded like somebody else. I found a news article tying everything he had done so far together. According to it, he was on foot, never fought with weapons, and used his wit to get in and out of scenes without being caught by the authorities. I took a mental note of this. He had been at this for about a year now, and they still had no evidence of who he was. Multiple eyewitnesses say that the only thing they remember were his cold eyes. That checked out. I remembered those eyes vividly. Once I had reached the end of the article, I had found that the journalist writing it had coined him “The Darkest”. It suited him, he hid in the shadows a lot when I saw him.

I shut the laptop, my brain fried by information. I reached into my pocket and found a napkin, left on a table by a certain someone. It had scribbled pen ink on it, a number that I was very excited to call. I smiled at it, and decided to go to bed for the night, but I had an idea for the next day.

 

It was a nice Sunday morning. The birds chirped, fog enveloped my neighborhood and dew rested on the grass in front of my house. I pulled my hoodie sleeves further down over my hands to warm them, but no luck. I hopped into my car and drove to the Lodge.

The Lodge was a small “club” for people to hang out. There was a bar, arcade, pool tables, ping pong, dining, crappy bathrooms. I found the place to be quite refreshing. It was a fun place to hang out, and sometimes meet new people. It was an unmentioned and obvious rule that you don’t go in there after dark if you’re under 21. The place could get nasty. I walked in and got a few greetings from some familiar faces. The janitor, Raj, nodded his head at me as he swept the floor. Jane, a senior at my school, waved from a table full of guys. I smiled and continued towards the bar. I stopped and sat down at a stool, slapping a one onto the surface.

“What’ll it be today, miss Hark?”

Tom, the owner of the place, appeared from the back with a mug in hand. He cleaned it out with a towel and looked at me eagerly.

“Cream soda,” I answered. “And some information,”

“Information costs extra,” He reached underneath the counter into a small fridge and pulled out what looked like a beer bottle, but was really just an A&W soda. I ravaged through my purse in search of another bill, but only found a gum wrapper and a used battery.

“I’m kidding,” Tom said. “Seeing you is payment enough, what do you wanna know?”

He smiled, a very charming one. I had always seen him as a bit of a father figure, always giving out free advice.

“Last night I nearly got mugged-”

“Jesus, are you okay?” He asked, genuinely concerned.

“I’m fine, just a bit shaken,” I admitted. “Some guy dressed in all black stopped the guy,”

“You saw the Darkest?” He whispered.

“You know about him?”

“I know everything about this city, including him. He stopped a few things from escalating outside of this club,” Tom explained.

“I want to talk to him,” I said.

“Nuh-uh, you came to the wrong guy,” He shook his head. “I don’t deal with crazy,”

“You have to know something,”

“Nobody knows anything. This guy is highly skilled, dodging cops left and right with no evidence left behind at any of the crime scenes,”

“He leaves a lot of camera evidence,” A small voice said from my right. I peered over at somebody that I hadn’t noticed a second before. He had black fuzzy hair and a dark caramel skin. He had a goatee and glasses pushed up against his dark auburn eyes. He wore a black long sleeve shirt that had the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows and a pair of worn jeans.

“What are you having?” Tom asked him, glancing nervously at me. I shrugged my shoulders.

“Some info of my own, but not from you. From her,” He said, leaning forward on the bar and looking at me.

“Info about what?” I asked, intrigued.

“The Darkest, I haven’t seen him and I would like to as well,” He didn’t bother looking at Tom, just me. I took a sip of my cream soda and looked back at him. He tried for a smile but it came out condescending so he quickly went back to straight faced. 

“Well I don’t know anything about him,” I stated. “Unless you think the fact that his eyes are blue is interesting,”

“Two minds are better than one,” He offered. I turned back to Tom. He shrugged as well.

“You got a name?” I asked.

“Raymond Johnson,” He said, extending his hand for a shake. I obliged.

“What do you know about him?” I asked.

“Only what I’ve seen over surveillance footage,” He confessed. “He is good, I wouldn’t go too far as to say he’s ameteur but he is sloppy sometimes. Yesterday he stopped an armed robbery at the Plaza Hotel,”

“I heard the cops nearly caught him,” I said. 

“They nearly did, but he was smart enough to get away,”

“You said the Plaza?” Tom asked, putting the glass he was cleaning underneath the bar.

“Yeah, you know the place?” Raymond asked him.

“Heard of it,” Tom said, suddenly lost in thought.

“He came out of nowhere last night, I wonder how he knew it was happening,”

“My hunch is that he has powers, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to do what he does so effectively. The power went out at the Plaza and he seemed to see perfectly fine,” Raymond explained.

“So he’s got night vision?” I asked.

“Possibly, but I was thinking heightened senses,”

“Is that even possible?” I divulged. 

“You’d be surprised,” Raymond said. 

My phone dinged, interrupting the conversation. It was a text from James, which immediately made me smile. Raymond smirked to the side of his face and waited patiently for me to answer it.

Want to hang out today? I’m free whenever.

I tried not to smile wider at the text. James always seemed busy every time I saw him, he left the coffee shop pretty yesterday. I always wondered what made him tick. I thought of a response and sent him a reply.

Got a place in mind? I am mobile

I looked back up at Raymond and a splash of images danced across my vision. I saw computer screens mashed together, with surveillance footage on each one. One of the camera feeds showed the Darkest fighting off multiple armed assailants. The image quickly changed to Raymond throwing a dart at a fly and somehow hitting it perfectly. The next image was of scrambled eggs, which really confused me. The final image I saw was of Raymond doing a front flip from one rooftop to another in the Slabs, the part of town nobody visited if you lived outside of it. I rubbed the images away from my eyes and felt my head. I looked back up at Raymond who seemed concerned.

“You alright?” He asked.

“Fine, just had a headache for a second,” I lied.

“I’ll let you know if I find anything,” He said, though I had no idea how he would if he didn’t have a way of contacting me. I left the bar and hopped into the car.

Doesn’t matter to me

I clutched the phone in my hands and tried not to giggle. The car started and I pulled away from the Lodge with a smile on my face.

0