A Vigilante

001

When the door slams, it takes the music of the club with it, muffling it as I am dragged out. An older man's hand is gripping around my elbow so much that I suppress a wince of pain. He tugs me so hard I stumbled over my own feet. I am drugged after all.

I groan and he snaps at me. In a threatening voice, he silences me. I wonder, if I scream here -in the deserted back parking lot of a club- would anyone hear?

Doubtful.

In the cover of night, he pushes me forward, keeping his caged grip on both my arms. I move with him, so that he doesn't hurt me. I have no other choice.

There is no one around when we turn a corner down into a darkened alleyway, a white van parked at the end. There is no one to help me when he slams my body against the van, his hands still pinching against my skin. No one is also around when he slides the back door open and orders me in.

And no one is around to see me stand straighter, steadier than I was. To see my eyes open wider, less droopy.

And the older man is the only person to see my sly grin before I bring the hilt of my knife down on his temple.

And I'm the one who watches as he crumbles to the ground.

♤

Two hours earlier, I had arrived here at Star Nightclub with a fake ID. The wig on my head matched the red hair of the girl on the card, as well as the grey contacts covering my auburn eyes.

It was a loud and hypnotic atmosphere. A Saturday night at a well known club. I saw many people my age, maybe older, dancing on the main floor. The crowd was thick, and I had grimaced at the amount of blurred faces. I expected the surplus of people to make my mission immensely harder.

I had made my way to the bar, situated away from the sweaty dancing bodies. I ordered myself a drink, a cheap one since I knew I wasn't drinking it anyway. And I sat there, alone for an hour and a half. It was exhausting, really, the pounding noise of the DJ and the flashing coloured LEDs made it hard to focus. People approached me at several different times and I entertained brief conversations only to dismiss them.

I scanned the entire room at that time. Noting every single person that seemed out of place. I kept my drink in my hand but I didn't hold it close to my body.

The voice had spoken in my ear, as it did ever so often. A check in.

"The security cameras aren't showing anyone interesting leaving or entering the club. Maybe this isn't our place."

I didn't bother replying. It wouldn't have looked right since I was sitting alone. There was also no chance of my earpiece picking up anything over the loud music.

I thought she was right. It was becoming quite tasking to sit there alone and stare at other people without looking too conspicuous. However, the drunkenness of most persons around me made it easier to survey them without their knowledge.

I kept scanning the room for anybody out of the ordinary. Anyone that seemed suspicious. Anyone that seemed predatory.

At 11:34 P.M, my eyes had stopped at a man in the corner of the room. He didn't seem drunk. He wasn't dancing or with anyone in particular. He just stood, leaning up against the wall.

He definitely looked older than the average club goer. With the thinning of his hair and the light wrinkles on his forehead, I'd say he was in his 40s. He was white, and even in the dim party light, I could tell he was pale. But none of those things made him stick out. It was his gaze. The way his eyes swept the room again and again, analyzing every person there - for different reasons than I was, of course.