Chapter Four.
*******
There was once a tortoise who wanted to cross a river. The lion, thinking himself generous, told the tortoise he would carry him across on his back. But the tortoise was clever. He knew the lion was arrogant and impatient and so he refused by saying, "I will find my own way." The lion laughed and swam across easily. He mocked the tortoise from the other side. But the river was strong and the lion grew tired. When he reached the far shore he collapsed from exhaustion. The tortoise who was slow and steady had already found a fallen tree and floated across unharmed. The lion was humiliated and never mocked the tortoise again.
Demon let the story drift in his mind as the cold press of a gun stayed firm against his ribs.
The two men in front of him were impatient. Stupid even. They thought they were in control. He was always in control.
"Quit stalling," the taller one snapped. "Just give us the damn money."
"Let's teach him a lesson. He looks like a wise ass." The short one said, trying to look mean by scrunching his face. He looked like a mad weasel.
Demon kept his expression neutral as his mind worked faster than they could comprehend. The gunman was young and twitchy. He looked like a child about to sing his first hymn in front of the entire church. He was a rookie. His hands trembled as he pressed the gun harder against Demon's side. He was trying too hard to assert dominance.
Demon smiled. "You made a mistake."
The tall one blinked. "What?"
"You gave the gun to the rookie."
Demon moved before the words could settle in their brains.
His hand shot out and he twisted the rookie's wrist as hard as he could. The gun slipped from his grip and in the same motion, Demon slammed his elbow into the rookie's throat. The man fell back choking.
The other two attacked but they were sloppy and predictable.
Demon sidestepped the first man catching his arm and flipping him over onto the concrete. The second one swung wildly but Demon ducked under it and drove a hard fist into the man's ribs with a satisfying crack. The man gasped and went down just as hard.
Demon stood over them, "You're lucky," he murmured. "I'm in a good mood."
The two men scrambled to their feet as they grabbed the rookie and dragged him away.
Demon didn't watch them go. He had better things to do. He knew they wouldn't bother him again.
His apartment was silent when he returned. The hole was covered and the whispers were muffled beneath layers of wood and fabric. He showered to let the water wash away the filth of the city. He could smell it on his skin. Then he got dressed for work.
Mondays and Thursdays. That was his schedule. Just enough to maintain the illusion. Every superhero had a day job—a normal ordinary life to cover the vigilante crime-fighting life. Why should he be an exception?
******
The movie studio was quiet at night and he had the night shift. His job was simple. Sit, observe, and exist. He liked it that way.
He knew Carl from the previous shift messed around watching porn, playing with his dick while he fantasized about fucking women who normally wouldn't look at him twice and it wouldn't have been a problem to Demon if Carl didn't leave the chair handle sticky every time. He made a mental note to lay a complaint to management.
He sat at his post with a book in his hand letting the words pull him into another world. The night was uneventful and it stretched on just the way he preferred. Everything was going just the way he wanted.
Until she stopped in front of him.
"Mind Games: The Psychology of Murder." A woman's voice read out the title of his book. The voice had a playful tone.
Demon looked up.
Veronica Adams. She was a rising star and was famous for being in most recent movies. She was beautiful and had dark eyes that held mischief. She was dangerous and he knew it.
"I like psychological thrillers too," she said as she tilted her head. "Didn't peg you as the reading type."
Demon turned the page without looking at her. "Then you're not very observant."
He wasn't surprised. He didn't exist to people like her. People like her lived in their own perfect world and people like him were meant to be the cog that made this perfect world operate smoothly.
She laughed. "Or maybe you're just hard to figure out."
He didn't answer.
She leaned in slightly. "You're different from the others here. There's something about you but I can't quite place my finger on it yet. Aside from the fact you're a cutie…"
Demon resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "That's nice."
"So what do you do with your free time?" She asked, rolling a loose strand of hair between her fingers.
"I exist." He shrugged.
She laughed so hard as if he had told the funniest joke in the world. Demon wondered what she found funny. Jackson stood behind her making faces he didn't like.
"You're hilarious." She said finally, wiping a tear from the corner of her eyes. "I always thought you were plain old boring."
Before she could say anything else Demon caught a movement behind her.
Brad Landis.
He was a big-time star. He was big enough to make Veronica look like a child in showbiz. He could sneeze and directors would throw a fit.
Demon had seen men like him before. Men who took what they wanted because they could. He was a piece of shit if there was ever a man who fit the description.
Brad's hand lashed out as he smacked Veronica's ass. She tensed and her body stiffened but she didn't react. Not really.
Demon knew why.
Brad grinned. "Hey, beautiful. I've been looking for you." His voice was loud. "Now be a good girl and wait for me in my car."
Veronica's jaw tightened but she didn't say anything. Instead, she turned and walked off without a word.
Brad turned to Demon. He was still smirking and gave Demon a small tap on his shoulder. "Man, I'm gonna have fun making her suck my cock. I heard she's a pro, bruh. You know."
Demon closed his book.
He's got a new target.