When Darkness Dawns

Closer To a Better Tomorrow

Perched in the second floor windowsill, drowned in the shadows, I watch the scene before me with narrowed eyes and a heart ticking with barely contained rage, as the sun continues to set and night falls upon me like a dark cloud hiding my true identity.

Some people must really have some nerve to think that they can just get away with shit like this. It's truly infuriating.

Before me is none other than a few men of one of the city's most renowned gangs, the North Side Kings, performing yet another act of illegal means. I just continue to watch them in their "secret hideout," an abandoned warehouse, just as they continue to speak of their plans on how they're going to transport their precious "cargo." But they all, including myself, know exactly what that shipment is: women. They intend on selling them like misused, cheap property.

Not on my watch.

Shifting in my spot, my all black outfit--black jeans, black shirt, black leather jacket and boots--clings to me like a second skin, though not uncomfortably so. My hair is tucked under an expensive brown wig, which is pulled back into a ponytail. A black eye mask covers my face partially, as my blue-colored contacts cover the green in my eyes.

I look like a completely different person. All the more to hide my identity, as I've never really understood why fictional superheroes always got away with only wearing a mask to hide their true identity. It has never made sense to me.

"No, Rodriguez, they can't do the fucking dropoff if the police are patrolling the streets. I swear, you can be so fucking dense sometimes," a big, muscled man with a balding head practically growls. Darius King, the leader of the North Side Kings--a man I'm all too familiar with, sadly. I've had one too many run-ins with him. "We need to change the location since the cops are onto us. We can't have them taking our shipment and finding out about our involvement."

"Geez, man. I get it, but--"

I drown out their voices at this point, already fed up with this whole plan. Clearing my head and giving myself a silent pep talk, I brace myself for what I'm about to do, though I've trained myself to do so for years. Leaning forward in my position, I prepare to jump from about ten feet in the air. Remembering my technique on how to land safely and effectively--landing on the balls of my feet, tucking in my legs, and rolling sideways--I allow myself to let go of the windowsill and do just that, startling all the men in the room that weren't aware of my presence.

But before anyone really has the chance to comment anything, I sprout back up and mockingly say in a fake accented voice, "Well, well, well. Look at what we have here." My false Irish accent sounds just too believable to be considered fake, as I've also perfected that over the years--my favorite person on the planet is from Dublin, so I kinda just copied her since I was young. My arms are crossed with a smirk, knowing I've caught them all off guard--knowing they all know who I am. The whole city does.

Darius sends me a glare almost immediately, only furthering my enjoyment of ruining their little get-together, causing my smirk to turn into a full-on grin. "Ah, Ghost Bird, how great it is to see you again." If I'm not mistaken, I'd say he's being a little sarcastic.

I'm the only one who deserves to be sarcastic here, not the other way around.

My grin disappears altogether when I give a fake pout, jutting out my hip a little when I retaliate, "Awe, Dary, do ya really mean that, or are you just saying it to please me?"

I hear the almost-silent snickering of one of Darius's men as another rando sneers, "What's this bitch doing here?"

My head shoots to the culprit instantly and I give him a glare. This man, who I'm assuming has to be in, like, his thirties, can't stop himself from freezing up under my heated look, even though he can't see the entirety of my face. Oh, he's definitely heard of me. Good.