The streets are quiet as usual. It is a silence made of screams,
desperation. A silence that fills the whole city. Nobody notices it.
Nobody cares. But things are starting to change. The same screams, now
silent, will produce little sounds, barely perceptible. Every knife
stabbing a stomach, every gun shot in a corner, will be turned into a
melody people will be able to hear, one day. A name is coming. It is a name that
represents fear and hope, depending on which side of the coin are you
on. That name is La Cruz.
People, when living in fear, are
static, empty, like receptacles of whatever light comes to them. No
matter how dark this light really is. No matter whether it hurts or
sins. In a blackened world, any light is a bless. Enfer City welcomes
it.
“No! And no, again, Marilyn!”, Peter Gordon screamed to his
employee, tired of listening to the same story one more time. “Get out
of my office and write about Legion!”
“Every paper in town is
writing about that! Every paper in the country, and even in the whole
world. Make someone else write about those terrorists of Legion. What’s
hot news here is the new superhuman vigilante, La Cruz. We’d never had
someone so brutal, so violent, and moreover, so… just.” Journalist
Marilyn Beegot stopped at the end of that phrase. Her eyes, lost, like
staring at his editor’s desk, but actually reliving the very first
moment she saw the corpse of one of La Cruz’ victims. It was a multiple
rapist who tried to claim another victim in a solitary alley downtown.
His body, burned; blazed by a flamethrower according to the 13-year-old
boy who witnessed everything, saved by this “beast”, as he described
him. The corpse had a mark. A mark of a cross, made by a razor blade in
accordance to the forensic analysis. Also a note:
If you had been strong enough to carry your cross, I wouldn’t have to forge one for you.
No innocent has fallen here. I’m not looking for the innocent.
“Marilyn? Marilyn?” Gordon grew impatient as his writer was daydreaming. “Beegot!”
Marilyn came back to her senses and apologized to him.
“Look, Marilyn. I don’t care if you think he came out of nowhere to
save us. We don’t know anything about him besides people’s testimonies.
And those fellows were frightened as hell. How can you trust any word
they say? Until I don’t see anything more substantial about it, I don’t
want my best reporter losing her time writing about him in this newspaper.”
In this newspaper, you said?
Ok. I’ll take your word. Marilyn grinned, nodded, and left the office.
When
she got home her eyes passed over a beautifully arranged set of meals on
the table in the dining room of her apartment. She approached the hall
and turned to her bedroom’s door, which she opened in no
time. The food was not the only thing she missed, but her husband too.
Even though he knew how passionate she could be about her work, he
couldn’t help but feel hurt for the unconcern his wife displayed towards
his effort.
“Ahem!”, his voice echoed in the room, but it was
left unnoticed. He moved towards the computer in which she was typing
very swiftly but harmoniously.
“Sweetheart?” The tone of his
voice was unsettling; however, Marilyn barely perceived it, turning her
head slowly to him but having her eyes glued to the screen.
“Marilyn!” she jumped out of the chair.
“What’s wrong with you? Are you blind? Can't you see I’m working here?”
“I'm blind, huh? Question is, are you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You just passed over the meals I prepared this whole afternoon to
welcome you. I took my day off for our anniversary, you know?”
“I’m sorry, OK? But this is huge. I mean real huge. Last night there was another case. La Cruz.”
“The guy who burned the rapist, right?”
“Yes. Only this time it was not a rapist but a convicted who recently
escaped from prison. He tried to rob a store. When he was hitting the
cashier with his gun, La Cruz appeared, threw the guy outside, and
burned him right there.”
“Kind of excessive. Won’t you say?”
“Excessive? The guy was convicted for killing a convenient store
manager when trying to make another robbery. This poor guy would have
been the next if La Cruz hadn’t appeared.”
“I’m not saying he
shouldn’t have been stopped. I’m just saying that burning a person alive
is plain wrong. Who is he? Who gave him the right to go burning people
around?”
“Us. We did it when we let the authorities turn a blind eye to crimes every day.”
“I still think he’s just as dangerous as the criminals. If not more.
But that’s not my point anyways. Thing is, we are not supposed to be
arguing about an overpowered flamethrower-wielding vigilante. This is
our anniversary for God’s sake!”
“This is even bigger than you and I.”
He remained silent for a few seconds, staring at her, infuriated but
smooth. When leaving the room, he felt the soft touch of his wife’s
fingers on his arm, trying to keep him there for a while.
“So you can touch me.”
“What do you mean by that?”
She was left alone right after she finished the question. She forgot everything about dinner, her
husband, his apathy or even hers the moment she sat again.
The following day she was received by only screams and complaints from his editor.
“I happened to read your blog this morning! What do you have to say about that?”
“You were clear you didn’t want my notes about La Cruz on your paper. Well then, I did it in my personal blog.”
“A personal blog that is read by one hell of a lot of people!”
“What? Aren’t I free to write whatever the hell I want in my blog?”
“Your name is in it. You represent us. You’re our best journalist. You
writing in your blog is like us supporting those ideas. And we don’t!”
“You don’t.”
“What do you say?”
“Have you asked the people hee their stand about La Cruz? Not only
that. Ask people on the streets. It’s everywhere. People feel safer
with La Cruz out there. Enfer City was dragged to hell, and he is
bringing us back to the surface.”
“You don’t know what he is up
to. He might have a personal vendetta. What if the guy wants to burn
this place for any reason unknown?”
“And why would he do that? Is there any criminal behavior around here? If not, there is nothing to be afraid of.”
“I’m getting tired of this. I want you to write about Legion!”
“Don’t worry, Pete. Here’s your Legion.” She left a folder with the phrase Waste of
Time written on it on Gordon’s desk and approached the door.
“You’re walking through a minefield, Beegot. Not all people support that
criminal. And if he falls, and he will, you and your reputation will
fall along.”
“So be it, Pete. So be it. I know I’m right.”
Peter Gordon stayed alone in his office, staring at the door as his reporter left. Then he turned to his window, grabbed his mug and took a sip, but the coffee tasted more bitter than usual.
Marilyn arrived home at night, went to her room
and lay down. There she closed her eyes. Suddenly she was somewhere
else, flying, black wings arising from her back. She saw the scenery
below. A forest, all green and lively. Hundreds and thousands of trees
covered everything. She looked at the sun, so beautiful and so shiny,
however, perfectly visible for her eyes that didn’t get hurt. She saw
something on the sun, a silhouette. Never saw it before. It was a man, a
big man. The blaze of the sun couldn’t burn him. She knew who it was.
It was La Cruz. She smiled. A tear dropped off her face. She started
falling as she was approaching the sun. She finally saw the ground but
didn’t touch it. She was in her room again.
“Honey?
Honey? Are you alright?” It was her husband besides her, who
listened to her screaming, all agitated.
“Oh, it’s you.”
The bitter disappointment of hers was obvious.
Sighing, he told her he was sorry for not being
understanding enough the other night and told her he prepared a
delicious meal for the two of them. She smiled and went to the dining
room with him.
This time the dinner was not as elegant as the previous one but there was an evident display of effort.
“When I got home I saw you there, in bed, so beautiful. I couldn’t be
angry anymore. So I decided to prepare this. I hope you like salmon.”
He unveiled the main dish which delighted Marilyn. They sat and he took her hand.
“I’m sorry this is not as fancy as before. I ate it all out of rage.” He laughed. “I understand it’s your job, and you’re
passionate about it. I only couldn’t take it because it was our
anniversary and I feel you so dragged towards this guy that…”
“Don’t worry. Let’s eat. OK?”
Dinner was going peaceful though not quiet. Laughter impregnated the
room like nothing happened the previous night, like it was actually this
one their celebration day.
“I was worried earlier. You were dreaming,
right? What was it about? You remember? You were so tense.” He said, while still chumming.
Her eyes stared at nothing. She almost felt flying again towards the
blazing knight who waited for her inside the very sun.
“Your eyes are sparkling, honey.” His voice shaked.
“Uh? Yeah. Sorry. Yeah. I was dreaming.”
“And what was it about?”
“Nothing. Let’s eat. There’s a dessert, right?” She smiled awkwardly.
“Yes, there is. But tell me, come on.”
Some seconds of Marilyn looking at the food later, she answered.
“It was La Cruz, OK?”
The sound of the cutlery striking the table painfully echoed the room,
changing the whole scenario. He stared at her for a while until he finally broke
the silence hitting the knife against the food violently.
“So, what was it like? Because now I remembered you felt disappointed when you saw me.”
“It felt quite good actually.”
“Really? How can you be so blatant about it?”
“What? Do you want me to lie? I actually feel better dreaming of him than sitting here with you right now.”
“OK.”
Right after that, he got up. As he was moving toward to the door, she sighed and tried to stop him.
“Come on. It’s just that... I’m a little tense and excited. Tense because
my editor don’t want me to write about La Cruz and excited because of La
Cruz itself.”
He held the doorknob, turned around, and, still holding the doorknob, said:
“You should listen to your editor. But it seems you prefer to write
nice things about a murderer and dream and daydream about him than being
with your husband. Someone you’re supposed to love.”
He gave a
final gaze around the house and finally crossed the door. Since she lost
her appetite, she got up and went to the living room, thinking of her
husband who couldn’t even grasp the surface of how important this was
for her. What she saw on television made her forget everything. Another
criminal was just found murdered, allegedly by the vigilante La Cruz.
It only took minutes for her to get to the car, that was still in the building’s garage, and drive to the crime scene.
“Damn you, Pete! You knew this happened and you didn’t call me! Damn
you!” She screamed to herself, enraged, but also excited for her hero.
When she arrived she saw the yellow tape blocking access to the alley, but the corpse was still visible.
“I’m from Daily Enfer. What happened here, officer?”
“None of your business.” The officer didn’t even look at her eyes.
“Please, people need to know.”
“Wait for the official press conference then and let us work, Ma'am.”
But she couldn’t wait. She evaded the officer and ran, heading for
the corpse. The mark… that was the only thing she needed to see. A
cross-shaped mark made over the burned body, like a gift coming directly
from heaven. Falling on her knees, she didn’t feel a thing until
moments after the officer took her arms and pulled her away from the
victim’s remains. Fascinating, she thought. When she got home she got
the same exact dream she did before, although this time she didn’t fall
at all.
The next morning she went to work without realizing if
her husband was or was not at home. Even though she was still amazed by
the sight of the cross on that body, she was also furious with her
editor who didn’t tell her anything about what happened and if it hadn't been for the news, she wouldn’t have even known a thing.
“Can you explain to me why I had to know about yesterday’s case on the news? I was lucky I arrived there on time.”
“Yeah, I know. I knew about your little problem with the cop. You like
breaking the law too, huh?”
“Stop that. That’s another criminal out of the streets. Thank God he was there.”
“I don’t think God had anything to do with the murder of a pickpocket.”
“What?”
“Yeah, that’s right, young lady. It was a mere young fellow who pickpocketed
an old lady a couple of blocks away. Your criminal friend got there and
fried him. What a way to serve to justice and heroism!”
She remained silent for an instant, but immediately replied:
“There’s no crime worthy of mercy. No innocent fell there, only filth.”
Hearing this, Pete could hardly breathe. He didn’t want to believe his ears
while her most important reporter blindly defended the brutal murder of a
minor thief.
“Would you sit down for a second and hear
yourself?” She sat reluctantly. “Listen, I know I’ve been harsh and
haven’t let you do your job as you want, but I care about you, Marilyn. I
really do. And this needs to stop. You’re making me nervous about your
situation. You don’t seem to see things clear. Why don’t you take a
break? Take a couple of days just for yourself, and when you come back, we'll talk about this better.”
“You don’t seem to see things clear, Pete.”
“Stop calling me Pete.” He was losing his patience. “I am your boss,
and you better watch out your mouth. Who do you think you are,
Beegot? You believe yourself better than the rest of us, just like that lunatic with
God complex, is that it?”
“He’s just undoing what’s wrong in this once hellish place.”
“Once? Do you think making people feel fear is not hellish, as you say?”
“You’ll never understand.”
“No, I won’t. That’s why I’ll have to force you to take some vacations, Beegot.”
“You can’t do that!”
“Oh, I can and…”
The discussion was interrupted when someone barged in the office desperately.
“Sir. Something huge. It’s La Cruz. It’s a threatening letter.”
“Give it to me, García.”
So
far I’ve been cleaning the streets of small rats. Now it’s time I do
something important. Something really significant. The real evil is out
there, laughing at us.
The powerful. Politicians, businessmen, people
who look down to us like nothing. Pest that love to have their feet on
our throats while crimes go rampant here, in Enfer City.
They should
be carrying the biggest of all crosses and they are not. We carry them
like slaves. But that will be no more. I will forge a worthy cross for
them.
I’ve sent this letter to you, the police and the press, so everybody can see it.
The pest will hold a party to enjoy the dirty beauty of their fortune.
I will be there.
“Let me in, please, Pete... Peter.” Her tone shifted from the previous one. She was begging, her eyes pleading for it.
“No. I think I made myself clear, Beegot.” He looked at María García.
“You, this is yours; but be careful. If they still decide to hold the
party, I want you there.”
“But Pete!” Marilyn screamed.
“No more words for you. If you don’t want me to call Security…”
“Ok. I’ll go.”
Her anger consumed her, making her curse all the way back home. She
needed to be there. La Cruz represented everything the city required for
survival. It was their hero.
“What was he thinking, huh? Asshole! But he will see.” She was shouting at herself when her husband came back home.
“What will he see, huh? He’s right.
This is getting out of hand. Not only that crazy, but even yourself. I’m
back home and I find you all mad... and you haven’t even asked me where the hell I was.”
“Can you please see the whole picture here? This is not about you. It’s
not even about me. This is about the greatest thing ever. No other
vigilante in history has threatened the filthy powerful.”
“Of
course they haven’t. Those who do that are not called vigilantes.
They’re called terrorists. And that’s what La Cruz is.”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Since I’ve known you, you’ve been really passionate about everything
you do and I’ll be as supportive as I could, but there are limits.
You’re not being passionate about this. You’re just being fanatical.”
“If you’re unable to understand what’s going on here, you’d rather
leave.” Which he did without saying a word. Not that she cared about
that. Her mind, only focused on the next day’s party, was trying to
figure out a way to sneak into the place and get a look to her hero.
She didn’t sleep at all that night. No answer came to her head as a
solution for her predicament. No answer but only one. One idea that scared
her a little. One idea that became the only possibility to accomplish
what she wanted: access to a high-society party. The access only one
person in her office had.
Next day, having slept not one bit, she
prepared for the night. She smiled at the mere thought of seeing La
Cruz. She understood him like nobody had before and that was her pride.
Afternoon came. She got inside the car, started the engine, and began
to drive. Not to the party yet, but to someone’s house. There, she
waited for an hour when she saw María arriving home. Marilyn knocked at irregular intervals.
“Oh, Marilyn! What’s the matter? I was going to get ready to go to the party.”
“I know. This will only take a moment.”
Beegot entered the house, making María feel completely out of place.
“Hey, wait, Marilyn. I don’t have time to chat. Sorry. If you want, we can talk tomorrow. I’m a little hurried.”
Beegot took a taser out of her purse and electrocuted María. Then she tied her up and locked her inside a closet.
“I’m sorry, Marilyn, but you won’t appreciate what’s going to happen as much as I will.”
After a quick search throughout the house, Beegot easily found María’s
ID access to the party. Just an easy work to forge, she thought.
The skies looked crimson some would say. Streets were quieter than usual and the air
grew thicker. The only ones who didn’t notice it were the people
enjoying the fine wine in the Wolfman Manor. Everybody was laughing,
unaware of what was to come. Even though there were plenty of special
agents outside and secret service inside, uneasiness was not a feeling
shared among the invited. Marilyn Beegot was
savoring the moment while seeing all the future victims of La Cruz.
You all filthy garbage enjoy while you can. La Cruz will put your
criminal ways to a deserved end. A thought repeated over and over again
in Beegot’s mind.
After hours it seemed nothing was going to happen and Beegot grew anxious.
“Where are you? Where are you? Where are you?” As she repeated the
question, her voice was getting louder. “Where are you? Where are you?
Where are you?”
People noticed the repetitive
sound coming from the journalist and started moving away from her , when suddenly a thunderous noise came from
the outside. Like a demon arriving after hearing his summoning, La Cruz
appeared before the special agents from the sewers, breaking the ground
from below with his fists. Terrified people inside could only see the
blazes finishing all the agents and were helpless when they saw La Cruz
breaking inside so fast they couldn’t react.
He was enormous,
muscular. He wore a gas mask, a white tank top, green camo pants and
boots. A shiny silver cross-shaped necklace was also visible. "It’s him.
It’s more than a hero. It’s a god! It’s a god!" Beegot was mesmerized by
his imposing image.
The attendants were hopeless, seeing people
getting burned by his flamethrower without mercy. The secret service
agents were the first to fall, giving time to some of the partiers to hide in
different rooms on other floors.
“No one will escape from carrying their cross, sinners!” La Cruz screamed with a growling, ear-splitting voice.
He increased the power of his weapon to a level so high that could melt anything that got in the middle.
“Try to hide, pest! No matter. I’ll bring this whole place down!”
He set the manor on fire so it started to crumble. He didn’t notice the
almost fainted young woman getting close to him, wanting to only touch
him and know he was real, a god.
No hay comentarios.:
Publicar un comentario