Chapter 50: Chapter 50

Chapter 50 The life of the unknown

The night is his disguise.

Under the darkness, he will rise.

Why will he rise?

He will rise because he wears the darkness well.

The velvety shadows loom over his speeding figure as he pushes his motorcycle to drive faster. The city flies past him and the ground becomes a mere blur as he does so, and the sharp wind tugs at his hair and nips at his skin clothed in black leather.

Black leather that matches the shadows that lurk around him.

Black leather that matches his heart and soul.

The shadows seem to grip him and tug against him, pulling him back and dragging him down. He struggles to break free from the darkness, but it is much too strong. It is easier to just give up than fight the demons that torment him.

The sound of his motorcycle rumbles through his ears and the smell of exhaust invades his nose. Smoke billows out from the pipe of his motorcycle, mixing with the other toxins the city produces.

He leaves behind a trail of smoke that lingers in the air for a few moments before dissipating completely.

Everything is silent and dead. Everyone fears the night and what it brings because they can't see the monsters in the dark. They can't see the creatures that take but never give.

Take.

Take.

Take.

That's all humanity does, correct?

Humanity takes lives.

Humanity takes innocence.

Humanity takes the weak and vulnerable and crushes them beneath their cruel feet.

The unknown man knows this all too well. He knows this painfully well.

So, the inhabitants have abandoned the streets and they nestle lovingly in their houses, gathering their children in their beds and promising them that there are no monsters under their beds or in their closets.

But that's where they're wrong.

Only, these monsters may not be actual monsters, like the boogie-man or some hairy creature. These monsters are something much more sinister.

These monsters are known as mankind.

Mankind that takes lives. Mankind that takes innocence. Mankind that takes the weak and vulnerable and crushes them beneath their feet.

So they continue to sleep tucked away in the safety of their homes.

He smirks.

For him, safety is a mere illusion people create for themselves in order to ignore the real danger that constantly lurks in the shadows, waiting to devour their lives and destroy the innocence of the young.

He knows this by experience.

They say ignorance is bliss, but everyone knows what happens to the foolish gazelle who strays too far from its herd.

So, the streets are his tonight, just as they are every night. He is like a predator that only stalks the night and its inhabitants.

He is like the devil who only makes deals with the vulnerable. He is everything that parents tell their children to stay away from.

He is what society steps on.

He is what society calls a disgrace.

He is what society fears.

He doesn't blame them, either. Sometimes he's even afraid of myself. But he doesn't care. He doesn't care of the man he is or will become. He doesn't care about the evil he creates or the pain he gives to others. He doesn't care about the lives he gives or the lives he takes.

He cares about himself and his needs, because in this life, it's all about survival. One man for himself.

Who is he?

He is nothing.

He is simply a wave tossed in the ocean. A vapor in the wind. A shriveling flower in the field. He has no identity to belong to, no place to call home.

He's here today.

And gone tomorrow.

He wanders around the city like a starved lion, preying on the innocent. He's trying to survive just like all seven billion of the world's human population. The way he's trying to survive, though, is where things get dark, evil, twisted.....

At some point in his life, he took the wrong path and strayed too far from the life he was supposed to live. From the life he should have lived. But now he is here.

Here's here and he's paying the price of his sins.

He pulls his motorcycle over on the side of the street in a forgotten alley in the bad parts of the city. Nobody roams here, especially not this late at night.

His boots scuffle on the cold sidewalk and he shoves his hands in the fronts of his jean pockets. He turns into the dank alley, and settles himself comfortably against the crumbling brick wall. He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest.

A tendril of wind swept, soft brown hair hangs in his eyes as he waits.

He waits like the predator he is.

His patience pays off, because sure enough, his next victim comes staggering down the cracked sidewalk towards his impending doom.

The unknown man hunkers down into the shadows, watching with cold blue eyes as his prey steps closer and closer until....

He strikes.

He jumps out from the shadows and in a split second, he has captured his prey and drags him kicking and screaming into the darkness with him.

He throws the man against the stone cold brick walls and presses his pistol against the man's abdomen.

The man that he has captured looks to be around forty-five or so. His skin is tan and his hair is brown and peppered in grey. The man looks a lot older than he actually is.

Drug abuse has aged him.

The victim's eyes are a dull brown and the whites of his eyes are bloodshot and yellowish. He is unhealthy and struggles to pry the unknown man's strong grip from his neck.

But it's no use.

The silence is deafening when the older man slumps weakly in his captor's grasp, and for a moment, the only sound that is audible is their ragged breathing.

The unknown man carefully calculates his prey's next actions, and his prey gives up. It's evident in the way he now carries himself. His shoulders are slumped and his head hangs low. He doesn't dare look his captor in the eyes.

He has excepted his fate.

Because when someone it attacked in an alley as dark as this and on streets as dangerous as these, there's no walking away alive.

And both the predator and prey know this all too well.

Then, the unknown man speaks.

His voice splinters the silence. His voice is so cold that it could even put the most frigid winter nights to shame.

"Shame such a poor sap like you will meet his end in the forgotten part of the land."

His victim says nothing. He knows the punishment of his crimes, because he is getting what he deserves.

The unknown man jabs his elbow into the rickety ribs of his prey who groans in pain.

"Weak people like you needs to die. Every single one of you. I will take great pleasure in robbing your corpse of all your money and burying those in your family six feet under because you didn't comply with the deal." His voice holds promise and is so cruel that it has the power to bring fear to the hearts of even the most toughest of men.

"I-I....please I just need more time," The man wails, "N-not my f-family! My w-wife, she's pregnant!" His face grows gaunt and his dark eyes grow wide with fear.

The unknown man tuts. "You should have thought about that when you decided to make a deal with someone like me."

He unloads his pistol into the man's abdomen, the shots ringing through the air.

He falls to the ground.

Dead.

Lifeless eyes bulging and staring up at the sky with shock etched into the deep wrinkles of his face. Gaunt face pale and glowing in the bitter darkness. Crimson leaking from the wounds that ended him.

The unknown man casually tucks his pistol back in his waistband and shakes his head as he looks down at yet another victim of his.

"I hunt and kill with no mercy." He says, his voice rough and low. He stoops down and picks the pockets of the man. He laughs bitterly when he finds no more than forty-five dollars in the jeans of his victim.

His victim owed him a lot more than that tonight and he dare to walk the streets with only forty-five dollars on hand?

"Pity," The man mutters, "And I was actually thinking of sparing his wife and family of my terror."

The man made a deal with the devil.

And nobody lives long when they make that mistake.

He tucks his earnings in the pocket of his black jacket and strolls to his motorcycle, not even bothering to hide the body that lies in both his own blood and the unknown man's past victim's blood.

No cops come down here any way, as this part of the broken down city is nothing more than the forgotten slums and the skeleton of what it used to be.

He hops on his motorcycle and once more, roams quickly through the city. The temperature had dropped and little puffs of cloudy mist accumulates around his mouth and nose with each steady breath he takes.

He flees into the night to reign down terror once more.

He knows where his victim's family lives.

He knows everything about the people that wander into his life begging for the drugs and weapons he produces.

He has to know everything, or how else could he blackmail his victims? Only, the blackmail weren't measly, empty threats.

They were promises.

And so he pulls his motorcycle over to an old trailer-house and kicks the kick stand in place to prop the motorcycle up. He takes one last drag of his cigarette before crushing it underneath his boot.

The moonlight carves his features and lights a path for his destruction.

Nobody saw the scene that followed.

The stars and moon being the only witness as the victim's family was ripped from the safety of their beds in sheer panic at the sound of the walls of protection they built up getting torn down by the beast that craves destruction.

See? Safety was an illusion that can be torn down at any minute. Safety was an illusion that can be slaughtered like a lamb, never to rise again. Safety was an illusion that gives fake comfort for the feeble.

Nobody heard the screams and sobs as he took what was left from the already struggling family that lay vulnerable on the floor that threatens to cave in on them.

Nobody heard the weeping and begging as the unknown man takes.

Take.

Take.

Take.

Because that's what humans do.

They take.

Others just give into their primal desire more than others, such as the unknown man who raids the homes of the powerless.

The pregnant wife curses him and threatens him. The man grows angry at her disrespect and irritated by her voice that cuts through his ears. Fiesty one she is, and he did not like that at all.

So he clicks the safety off of his gun and aims it at her head.

She freezes and tenses in fear.

His finger is on the trigger, just one little movement of his finger and she will be dead....

But he stops when he hears whimpering. His eyes dart around, trying to find the source of the sound.

And then he sees it.

He sees a little boy, no older than six years old clinging to her leg with crystal blue eyes filled with fear. Confusion is etched into his features and tears roll down his cheeks. His mop of unkempt brown hair tickles his ears.

In of the little boy's hands, he clutches a blue blanket.

The man stills and blinks.

He blinks away the painful memories that hit him like a train.

For the first time in his life, he lowers his gun and spares lives that night.

For the first time in his life, he chose not to take, something he had grown accustomed to mot doing.

When the man was done taking what was his, he leaves.

He leaves the family to their shamble of a home. He leaves the poor, struggling family to mourn the loss of not only the little belongings they had left, but also the main provider of the house who became a victim of violence that night.

Surely they will suffer greatly.

And the unknown man knows this.

He achieved his goal that night.

But despite the money he had taken from his victim's family, he still felt empty. His heart weeps for the pains and aches it feels.

He looks up to the only source of light that night - the stars and the moon and curses them under his breath. Bitter jealousy eats him alive because they are the exact opposite of what he is.

Light.

The moon and stars are light.

And he is not.

He is not because he wears the darkness all too well.

Deep down in what used to be his heart, he knows what he does is wrong. But he turns off his feelings and gives himself over to the beast because it is easier to give up than fight for what's right.

It was then at twenty-five years old on the dark, dead streets that promised death, he finally understood his purpose.

To take and survive.

So, who is he?

He is the unknown man who carries no identity.

And this is his life.

This is the life of the unknown man who's been crushed too many times.