Chapter 15: A Vigilante

There stood an impressive building. It was a sublime cinema. The place was jam-packed with movie lovers from all over the city, trooping through the doors.

A well-known series was getting its movie premiere today—that resulted in a fierce contest between the fans; a battle reserved for only the strongest of the strong. The ones who triumphed would claim themselves to be the most devoted.

This was no different from a battle of honor!

But all that didn’t matter to two, specific, college students. Hisashi and Kuro were already seated inside one of the many grand auditoriums. Hisashi had had them waiting in line before the line even had a chance to exist.

Achieving that took no small effort. They both had to head out at an absurd hour in the morning, before camping around the premises. For Kuro, it wasn’t such an unusual thing—he always got up early.

And for Hisashi, an outstandingly small price to pay to see one of his favorite series on the big screen….

One was practically shivering with excitement as the lights dimmed, and the other reclined fully into his seat.

It was plain as day to figure out who did what in the dimly lit room. To be more exact, the room—once the movie started—was bathed in a crazy splash of colorful lights…

Two Hours and Forty-Five Minutes Later…

“Dude that was so peak! Did you see how fluid the action choreography was?!”

“Yes, I did.”

“That had to be some of the best—I dare say, the best animation I’ve ever seen in my entire life!!!”

“Same here.”

“It truly was, ‘Immaculate Sakuga.’”

“Indeed. The most ‘Immaculate Sakuga.’”

“Could you stop mirroring everything I say, Kuro?”

“Whatever do you mean, Hisashi?”

They laughed while almost butting heads as they exited the cinema.

Their walking slowed as they arrived at a busy intersection. People had bunched up, waiting for the traffic lights to give the go ahead to cross.

Kuro and Hisashi joined up with a small gathering containing individuals from all walks of life. A handful of them were juvenile, most of them overtasked middle-aged office workers, and a small number of elderly folks.

A particular old woman stood out. She was wearing a simple gown that draped a little over her knees. It had flowery patterns on some spots. A summer hat graced her head with a light tilt. And her wrinkled face still radiated with warmth and wisdom.

She was splendid—an aesthetically pleasing granny.

She held her coin purse leisurely in front of her.

Kuro appreciated elderly humans. He always respected the years they’d manage to rack up in this unfair and unpredictable world.

Kuro felt a tense ripple through the air—someone was agitated.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a figure with a hood drawn rushed at the defenseless granny. Her purse was snatched from her wrinkled fingers, and was escaping her quickly.

An irritating sensation washed over Kuro. His very first thought was:

Obliterate that guy.

He promptly quelled that strange urge, blaming his Demonic Heart for birthing such a cruel judgement. He began to look for a much more humane way to handle the culprit.

Just then, in the distance, a motorcycle engine…roared.

● ● ●

The abrupt sound seemed to rattle the fleeing perpetrator, causing them to stumble a couple of times during their getaway. Lifting up her aged hand, she tried to call out to the person who had taken her purse. She pleaded, saying a priceless pendant of her son and his family were in it.

From her pleas, she wasn’t concerned about the money—they could have it. The one thing she wanted back was that pendant, more than anything, and nothing else.

Her cries were drowned out by the growing engine roar, presumably from a high-end brand. Kuro watched the impressive machine zooming toward them—a strangely dressed person mounting it.

The physical build of the person suggested a man—a very sturdy looking one, with the body of a trained soldier.

He whipped out a gun from a harness strapped to his waist, not losing an ounce of speed on his motorcycle as he did. He took aim—he fired.

A sudden bang rang out, alerting everyone there of the gunshot. It is common for people to disband in a commotion on hearing such sounds. Unexpectedly some remained calm. Rather, they looked excited even.

Kuro was about to interrupt the shot mid-flight, stopping short upon noticing a crucial detail.

The shot was on target, and the assailant began falling toward the ground. But before his body could kiss the asphalt, the motorcycle zipped by him—the purse vanishing out of their hands. The purse was now in the hand of the unusual rider.

Performing a U-turn, the tires screeched, and the smell of burnt rubber drifted through the air. He rode back to the elderly woman who was shedding tears of relief.

Tears… Kuro watched them roll effortlessly down her face.

The masked rider gradually decelerated until he was close enough to the owner of the purse. He agilely got off his motorcycle, which on Kuro’s closer inspection was figured to be a Kamasaki S2R painted in light and dark shades of green.

He stood tall—just like Talmarius, and had a similar broad physique. He wore trousers resembling the lower half of an Army Combat Uniform over tightly laced solid boots.

A jacket in the same style as his trousers hung openly on his frame, showing his inner shirt colored black. Sections of the shirt had a vivid sheen, like they were plates of armor. Kuro presumed there was carbon fiber embedded around the chest and abdomen parts.

The black gloves on his hands exposed his fingers, but the area that covered the knuckles had a hard, rigid texture.

Several pockets lined his exterior, all having angular objects peeking out a bit. A sniper riffle was slung across his back, swaying gently with every intentional step forward.

And his face was obscured by a jet-black helmet, having a stylized visor that looked like two opposite facing firearms.

An awe-filled whisper came from Hisashi. “Sergeant Gunner…”

That was the name of the heavily armed person standing in front of an elderly lady, courteously holding out her coin purse…

● ● ●

By common definition, a vigilante is a person who takes the law into their own hands. Anyone who wasn’t granted the right to enact justice, but did so anyway, could be branded as one.

But when the term was used by the citizens—the people who see the unfiltered happenings in the city—it meant something a lot more.

These “vigilantes” were, more often than not, humans like them. Flesh and bone. Every one of them brave enough to stand up to the most dangerous of tasks, with their own might.

They started popping up sometime after the sensational Magi-Twins came into the light three years ago.

Many believed that the appearance of the magic wielding humans spurred a desire in the other non-magical humans—a desire to be able to protect and defend others and themselves by their own means.

Some were more known than others.

And Sergeant Gunner was one of the better known names in the space. But it wasn’t until the disappearance of another prominent figure that he amassed recognition…

Vigilantes, in the eyes of law, were no better than criminals. The government ordered for their immediate arrest on sight, and even went as far as offering rewards for anyone who turned them in. One could only imagine the kind of sum resting on the current top-dog—Sergeant Gunner.

The downed purse snatcher showed no signs of bleeding, but was rendered completely immobile on the side of the road. Kuro earlier hadn’t attempted to stop the flying bullet, not because he wasn’t aware it was bade of rubber, but because of its trajectory at the time.

It would had struck him dead center in the neck.

Contrary to its marketing, rubber bullets could do major damage to the body when fired at close range. This vigilante had accurately predicted the fleeing culprit’s movements, and the shot aligned with his strides, striking one of his much firmer back muscles.

He now laid motionless—face down—on the side of the road

“Thank you… Thank you so much! What could I ever do to repay you…?” the old lady asked, dabbing her tears. “I’ll do anything!”

Frantically waving his arms, Sergeant Gunner motioned for her to remain where she stood. The old lady persisted, trying to step closer—he stepped back.

People slowly gathered round the two of them, finally snapping out of their collective daze. Hisashi was shoved aside by someone who wanted to get a better view. Another person wanted to do likewise to Kuro, but after a brief glance, circled around him instead.

As the crowd’s numbers increased, Sergeant Gunner made a jerk-like motion backwards to his motorcycle. He hopped atop it, and after a brief wave directed to no one in particular, wheelied away.

Only tire marks and the faint sound of a powerful engine roar in the distance remained from the sudden visitation.

Kuro had, once again, come in close contact with a popular figure. And this time, he was unsure whether to be excited by the reoccurring opportunities to meet remarkable persons, or be troubled by the rate at which it kept happening…

Either way, the day was enjoyable. Kuro, along with an ecstatic Hisashi, returned to their respective homes.