"Let me go!"
Her voice barely carried over the buzz of a flickering streetlamp, the only light in this piss-stained alley.
The men surrounding her did not care.
One of them, a lanky guy in a ratty hoodie, yanked her purse open. Pulled out some crumpled bills, a lipstick. Smirked as he twisted it open.
"Mum, do I look good?" he mocked, smearing the red over his lips like a drunk clown. The others chuckled.
But not all of them were here for jokes.
The bigger guy, the one with a shaved head and nicotine-stained fingers, grabbed for her hair.
Then collapsed with a scream.
A blade was sticking out of his leg. Deep. Blood welled up around the handle, spilling onto the concrete. He clutched at it, gasping, cursing.
The others snapped to attention, heads jerking toward the shadows. But they were not dumb. They did not let her go. One of them, a wiry bastard with a scar across his cheek, grabbed her hard, yanking her against his chest.
"Come out, asshole. Unless you want her dead."
The moment the words left his mouth, a knife flashed.
It slammed into his grabbing hand. Sank in deep.
"AAAHH!" he howled, stumbling back, blood dripping between his fingers.
The girl staggered away, breath ragged, eyes darting to the darkness.
Screams filled the alley.
"F—! My leg!"
"Shit!"
"What the hell!"
One after another, sharp and jagged.
Blades had found them all.
Steel glinted under the streetlamp, buried in flesh, slicing through muscle. Every single one of them was hit. Arms, legs, shoulders. No one got away clean.
Some screams cut off too soon, strangled by shock. Others dragged on, cracking under the weight of pain.
The lanky one knelt, shoulders shaking, a knife buried in his arm. The lipstick was still smeared across his lips, a cruel joke now.
Another lay on his side, fingers twitching near the blade impaling his leg.
The one with the scar had gone silent. Eyes unfocused. Hand limp and useless where it bled into the concrete.
The girl stood in the centre of it all, breath shallow, heart thudding against her ribs.
Shadows stretched long, swallowing the wreckage whole.
A feeling curled inside her. Slow. Creeping. Warm.
She should feel scared.
She should feel disgusted.
All she felt was satisfaction.
Happiness.
She was happy to see them suffer.
"Thanks," she muttered, hoping it would be heard.
"You're welcome."
The voice came from above.
She turned, eyes searching, and found him. A boy in a hood, perched on the streetlamp like it was the most natural place to sit.
Not much older than me, she thought.
He dropped down effortlessly, stepping into the dim light. A mask covered his face, smooth and expressionless.
"Can you do me a favour?"
The question cut through her thoughts. Before she could even think, her mouth answered for her.
"Yes."
"Call the police."
He crouched, reaching for the blades.
One by one, he pulled them free. The men howled as it slid from flesh, their pain reigniting like fire in raw wounds. One of them tried to lunge.
The boy barely looked up. His foot shot out, fast and brutal.
The man hit the ground, choking on a groan.
The girl did what she was told, phone already ringing. Still, she couldn't help but ask, "You're not gonna kill them?"
The hooded boy stilled for a second, then went back to picking up his blades.
"Can't. Not yet."
She frowned. "How old are you?"
"Old enough to know how shit works."
"You got parents?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he looked at her, head tilting slightly.
"You trying to figure out who I am?"
"Maybe." She smirked, barely paying attention as she pulled up the call screen.
"Oh hey, yeah, some guys jumped me. No, I'm fine. How? Uh… some dude wrecked them. Yeah, lotta blood. No, no idea who he is, just kinda showed up. Uh-huh. Yep. Sure."
She hung up, shoving the phone back into her pocket.
Turned around.
Gone.
She sighed, stretching her arms behind her head. "Figures."
Her eyes drifted to the guy who, just minutes ago, thought he was the hunter.
She crouched next to him, tapping his cheek lightly. "Let's see if you got some balls."
A pathetic whimper. A weak twitch.
A powerful kick.
"Aooooooo."
She looked down at the man, who was now questioning his future as a father.
From above, Stephan muttered to himself, "Gotta always protect that area."
Wee-woo! Wee-woo!
Flashing lights in the distance. Sirens getting closer.
"Welp, time to bounce."
He backed off, slipping into the shadows.
This wasn't his first night. He had already started his vigilante work, taking down scum piece by piece. No killing. Not yet.
Not because they didn't deserve it. Not because he couldn't.
Just… he hadn't gathered the will.
He knew he would, eventually.
It was only a matter of time.
**********
Author's pov
Suit / costume ideas for Stephen
Summons
Worlds