Difference between revisions of "Nightshift"

"The only way for evil to prevail is for good men to do nothing"

I couldn't tell you what great man said this, but they are words that go through my head every single day. Many people call me a killer, a psycho, a murderer. I may be crazy and I've taken lives, but I am no murderer. Murderers take the lives of innocent people. I am what murderers are afraid of.

I know what you are thinking, "what personal tragedy made this guy like this?". Well my parents are still alive and well, nobody close to me was murdered and I was never stranded in some desolate place for years on end. My tragedy was the death of a complete stranger, somebody I've never met or spoken to. It started in Philadelphia.

I was born there, raised there and I figured I would die there. I had a mediocre job, nothing to be remembered by. I didn't have a wife or a girlfriend. I just lived my life and stayed out of the way others' affairs. I didn't like to make waves. So when I was walking down the street on a cold autumn night and heard cries from an alley, I didn't meddle. As I walked by, the girl may have seen me when she yelled for help. And I kept walking. I had a gun, as I always did for protection, but I didn't reach for it. I had a cell phone but I didn't call 911 on it. "So they will steal her purse, worse things could happen" I thought to myself.

I didn't think much of it afterwards until the following morning when I was watching the news. "Local woman sexually assaulted and killed in alley last night...". I turned off the TV and stared at the black screen for what seemed like hours. The only way for evil to prevail is for good men to do nothing. I had heard the saying before but never thought much of it until now. I could have done something, anything, but instead I CHOSE to do nothing. I allowed evil to prevail...my life changed that day.

I called out of work the next day and went to sign myself up for self defense courses. The next few weeks I learned how to fight. I honed my shooting skills and I trained to get myself into shape. It was time to start gathering gear. It's funny how easy it is to get a hold of body armor these days. The guns would be the hard part, guns that can't be traced anyway. I knew where some local gangs would hang out, found somebody selling guns and set up a meeting at an abandoned warehouse. I showed up alone, the dealer came with a friend. They even let me try some out. I pretended not to be a good shot when trying them, imagine their surprise when I turned and put two bullets in the chest of the gun dealer. The friend was frozen for a moment before he reached for his own weapon but it was too late. I stood there for a minute, in shock myself of what I had just done. Then calm. These guns would have just been sold to gang bangers, probably be used in a shooting where some innocent bystander would have been killed. I took what I could fit into a duffle bag and left. Somebody will discover the bodies and call the police, guns will be confiscated and the deaths chalked up to gang violence. I don't think I've ever slept so well as I did that night.

The first time I put on my mask, an odd calm washed over me. Everything I was, gone. I felt invincible...that was my first mistake. The first couple nights were rough, I got the job done but not without my own injuries. I never had to stitch myself up before. But I learned from my mistakes. It wasn't long before I was in the news, what with dead criminals piling up and all. The Nightshift Vigilante they were calling me on account of me working at night. I know, journalists aren't the most clever with these things but it could've been worse. Besides, I didn't care all that much. I only cared that there were bad men off the streets.

So how did I end up here in Millennium City? Philly got clean. Well, cleaner. Citizens began to stand up and fight back against the criminals. I was no longer needed. So I packed up my gear and headed to a city that had even bigger problems. What problems could a city, filled with super heroes, have? It's the "super" that's the problem. All these big time heroes with immense power have become so focused on the powerful threats that the murders, rapists and drug dealers have become forgotten...almost. Somebody has to take care of them...

I'm not an invincible man from another planet, nor a super genius and I wasn't born a millionaire. So how do I fight crime? The old fashioned way. Training, experience and lots of bullets. I wear my mask to keep my identity a secret, I'm not out there for the praise or prestige. I wear body armor under my jacket and pants and keep my two Glock 19s holstered at my side along with my grapple gun for gettin' around. I hadn't trained in some fancy martial arts for years and I was never in the military. All I have is some self defense training, and a will to fight. Everything else I picked up through experience on the streets as a vigilante. You know what they say, "It's not the size of dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog". That's what keeps me alive.