Red X Unmasked
10-31-2004, 06:59 AM
This a story of mine that I posted up at another Messageboard (Pojo). It's about a clown dressed vigilante who protects D.C. I was inspired to this after seeing the movie Scaramouche, the tale of a frenchman who was on the run for murder I think, though he was innocent and hid out at a fair and disquised himelf as a clown. He hid out here and began to enjoy his new life, but he had to get back at the man who tried to frame him, and so he goes to the best swordsmen around so he get private lessons as a swordsman and take his revenge.
This story is inspired by that character and I hope you like it. It's already on part 3 at Pojo, so here are all parts of it:
Washington, D.C. Also known as the District of Columbia. I was raised here until I was 7. My name’s John Arthur III by the way. I'm an actor. I loved D.C. The culture, the art, the excitement, and the art. I grew up with a passion for art. But then I had to leave that all behind when I discovered that the people I grew up with for 7 years were not my birth parents, but my adopted parents, and my birth parents lived in Paris. I was apart of one of the wealthiest families around Paris. I was sent to live in D.C. with my adopted parents, whom happened to be relatives of ours, to protect me from the bad people. The people who wanted us dead to take our wealth away. When they wanted me to return, I did, but stayed for only a few years. I wanted to return to D.C., my home. My parents weren’t too pleased by the thought, but they agreed and sent me home, but not alone. By my side, I had the family’s new hired bodyguard, only known as Scaramouch. When he and I relocated back to D.C., I wanted to be just like him, and he trained me. He trained me to be just like him in the art of sword fighting and, if necessary, assassination. I grew up to be his shadow, his echo. And then, one day, he just disappeared. I knew why this happened. It was a test. To see if I was powerful enough to protect myself, and be like him, protecting others as well. I look at D.C., the way I left it, and then I look at it now, the way it has become. It had lost its culture, its art. Lost it all to crime and corruption. D.C., my home, needed a rebirth. A rebirth. A renaissance. I would be the one to lead D.C. into its renaissance. I would BE the Renaissance…
Red X Unmasked presents: KARMA part 1
I don’t know how I get myself into these things…
A tall handsome young black male walked down the sidewalk of 13th street NW of D.C. He had neatly cut hair and a sharp goatee. He wore a NorthFace jacket with jeans and boots. Under is he wore a golden brown turtle neck. Next to him walked, what appeared to be another male, but was a girl a bit younger than him; 2 years he thinks. She purposely wanted to look like a male tonight. She wore a red hooded jacket with a cap over her eyes. She wore large jeans boots like John was wearing. She tried hard to conceal her breast so people won’t notice them; Maybe no one will notice, she thinks.
How do I get myself into these things?
They turned a corner and continued walking down the dark cold streets of D.C.
This place has grown to be—well not hell, but on the tip. 21 deaths this year thus far due to gun violence. Sad, really. What’s even sadder is how girls can’t even leave the house anymore without getting hassled by some dude with a knife and a perverted mind.
They crossed the street and walked farther on to the gas station.
But in a way, it’s the girls fault. I mean really, who leaves the house dead at night in D.C.?
They walked over to the store and stepped inside.
No, wait. I shouldn’t be saying that. I really shouldn’t. If I really felt that ay, then I wouldn’t be helping her, now would I?
“Want anything, Page?” asked John to the girl, holding out money from his pocket.
“Nah,” she said, looking around nervously. “I’m good. Let’s just hurry up and get outta here.”
“Oh, alright then.” John laid some money on the counter, and pointed to a pack of M&M’s and Gummy Worms.
The two walked out of the store and continued walking away, until she saw them. Him especially.
John stared out in her direction and saw a dark green Sedan parked out in front. The car was surrounded by about 6 males, all looking like they’ve been to jail and back more than once.
Page stared over at one of the men in particular. He wore a NorthFace jacket as well with the hood over his head. He wore gloves and black jeans. Though his face was concealed by the hood and the darkness, she still could sense it was him.
Jamal Dean. That’s his name. He’s the cause of this. If it wasn’t for him, I’d be out with a girl or something, or at home with a girl, or somewhere else with a girl.
John began walking in the opposite direction, signaling “Peter” to come along. Page knew what this meant, and she began walking behind John.
Well, when you think about it, I am with a girl. And he’s the cause of it.
As they walked, Page snuck a glance back at the group of people and noticed that they went inside the car and drove off in the opposite direction of where they were going. She let out a sigh of relief, and continued walking with John.
“This is why little girls shouldn’t leave the house at night, Page,” said John.
“Little? I ain’t little. Just ‘cause you 2 years older than me don’t mean nothing.”
John sighed.
If it wasn’t for him, then I wouldn’t be here with her.
They then made a turn down an alleyway. John opened up his pack of M&M’s and opened them and popped three in his mouth. Page held out her hand.
“Nope. You said you didn’t want any.”
“So? That was before and this is now. Let me get some, please?”
Just then, John froze. Page did as well. He heard tires screeching. She heard tires screeching. He backed up. She backed up. And they saw it. Large bright lights at the end of the tunnel. There were two of them.
Screeching tires? A car maybe? A CAR!?
“OH, $@#! PAGE MOVE!” John shouted as he pushed Page out of the way and stood in the way of the car.
“NO!” screamed the fallen girl as she the saw the lights and John grow closer and closer.
The body of the black male fell onto the hood of the car and rolled on top of it and crashed on the ground. His body lay there, motionless.
The car stopped and out walked Jamal and his crew. They all smiled at Page as they got closer.
“You think you gonna lock me up and git away wit it?” asked Jamal. He turned to his ‘boys’ and signaled for them to go take care of the body. They didn’t hit him too hard, so he shouldn’t be dead.
Page lay there in the pile of garbage and broken glass, frightened for her life.
Jamal leaned closer and closer and closer. He was ready to finish what he’d started.
And, with God speed, she grabbed a piece of glass and slapped it across his face, giving him a long gash across his cheek. She dropped the glass and ran off.
“Ya’ll stay here! I’ma git her!” And Jamal followed Page down the street.
John struggled to get on his feet. He shook his head and spit.
8astards made me drop my M&M's.
“Look like he still up,” said one of the thugs.
“Don’t worry,” said another one as he pulled out a knife from his pocket, followed by the others. “He ain’t gonna be up no more.”
Slowly as John rose to his knees, he held his hands out and, unseen to the thugs, two sharp steel objects fell into his hands.
Quickly, one of the thugs lunged for the seemingly helpless John with the knife high in the air, gleaming in the moonlight. And as quickly as he lunged, he fell to the ground with a large gash on his chest; blood seeping out of his skin.
“What the @#$!?” exclaimed the thugs as they looked over at John who stood up tall with, what appeared to be, 5 inch long daggers in his hands. On the blade were the words “Scaramouch”.
“Take this!” shouted the second thug as he swung his knife for John. Quickly, he moved out of the way of the knife, and swiped his dagger at his wrist, nearly cutting it off. Oh, but John did not stop there. He continued going.
He spun around and elbowed one of them in the stomach and punched him with an uppercut, breaking his jaw; he bent down and punched another one’s leg, snapping it; he shot up in the air and made four swipes at his chest, and when put together, the swipes left a disfigured ‘R’ on his chest.
The five thugs lay there, motionless. They lay there motionless in a pool of their own blood. John then looked up at the moon as the light beamed down upon his flesh. He looked down at his bloody blades and wiped them off.
“This is going to be a long night…”
****
She came to me about a week ago. I was at the theatre, where I work. I’m an actor, and a damn good one at that. It was late at night and I had just finished acting in a play called “Bang Bang You’re Dead”. I was that troubled kid.
As John walked down the sidewalk towards his home, he passed by a squad car with two police officers. They sat in the car looking around. John knew who they were looking for. They were on patrol for the vigilante known as Renaissance. Renaissance was, in most people’s eyes, a menace to society who only brought more trouble to D.C. To others, he was a criminal, and to few, he was a hero; standing up for those who cannot speak for themselves, protecting the neighborhood from crooks and thugs.
What really gave people an uneasy feeling about this character was his appearance. He appeared to be dressed like a clown, from what eye witnesses say. Only a psychopath would dress in a clown costume and go around defending D.C.
John continued walking, when he was stopped by the call of one of the officers.
“Hey you, Arthur, is it? Come here for a sec,” called the officer. “We have to talk.”
John was worried about what he was confronting him about, but he decided to go talk anyway, for he didn’t want to make a scene by running off.
“Yes, officer,” said John. “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to congratulate you on your performance tonight,” said the officer as he stuck his hand out. “It was very nice. You could very well be on your way.”
“T-thank you, Officer…”
“Stroman. Officer Stroman. This is my partner Jacobs.”
John leaned over and looked in the other seat as the officer waved at him. He nodded back.
“Well we also wanted to let you know about a wanted criminal on the loose, named Jamal Dean.”
John remembered that name.
I read about him in the papers. He had been accused of raping a 15 year old girl named Page Michaels last year. He was sent to jail, but I don’t know for how long.
“He’s on the loose?” asked John, confused.
“Yeah,” said Jacobs. “He was sent to jail for 10 years on account of rape charges on a 15 year old girl. She’s 16 now. Well anyways, he was released from jail early due to good behavior; said he was a ‘model inmate’.”
“Well he’s back in the neighborhood and he could be dangerous,” said Stroman. “A reward is out for any information on him or his whereabouts. If you see anything, let us know, okay?”
“Of course, officers,” said John, stunned at the information. He then watched as the police car drove off.
Some rapist is free on the streets and is probably out for revenge. He’s gonna try and finish the job. I’m sure of it. That girl could be in serious trouble.
“Hello?” called a voice from the shadows of the alley behind him. John turned around, and saw a young girl walk out of the shadows. Her body trembled and her heart raced as if it was a horse.
“Ummm, can I hel—wait. You—you’re that Page girl, aren’t you?” John walked over to her.
Page backed up some.
“Don’t worry. I’m—I’m not gonna hurt you.”
“That’s what Jamal said,” she replied. “He’s out there somewhere.”
“So I’ve heard. Where is your home? Why aren’t you there?”
“’Cause he knows what neighborhood I live in. He probably knows what house. I can’t go back.”
“What about your folks?”
“They don’t know where I am. I ran away, ‘cause Jamal was coming. I jus know it. He’s out there lookin for me ‘cause I got him locked up. He wants me.”
Page ran over to John and cried, resting her head on his shoulders. John was stunned, not knowing what to do.
“Please can you help me?”
“You’d trust a total stranger with your life?” asked John.
“You’re not that much of a stranger. I know who you are. John Arthur something. That actor at the theatre. You're pretty good.”
“Nice to know I have your recognition.”
“Please,” she said once more. “I need your help.”
She ran into his arms, crying in sheer fear.
“You can count on me. I’ll help you…”
****
From that night on, I was kind of like her bodyguard. I picked her up from school, watched over her. I was her guardian angel…
A figure in what appeared to be a purple and blue jumpsuit rode down the streets of the night on a red and black motorcycle. He wore a purple and blue mask and wore a jester’s hat over his head. He wore black gloves and boots, and had a custom made sword strapped to his back. It wasn’t fancy, nor plain. It was just right for him. Around his waist was a black utility belt of some sort, with all sorts of concealed blades held within.
And I let her get away…
The figure then stopped in front of an apartment building on Clifton street. The figure stared at the building long and hard. This figure was the Renaissance.
****
“Where IS he!?” shouted Renaissance, standing in one of the hangouts of the lowlifes in town. He was surrounded by fallen bodies, all nearly motionless. He had beaten and battered them all. All he needed was a simple “Oh, I’ll tell you where Jamal lives, Mr. Renaissance. I bet you’ll find the girl with him as well. Here’s the address, I hope was of some service”.
But no. It could’ve gone that way.
But no.
He could’ve been on his merry way by now.
But no.
Everyone could’ve continued gambling and playing pool without gaining any broken bones and severe cuts.
But no.
Renaissance was tired of this. He then looked over to his side and grabbed a random lowlife.
“You’re gonna tell me what I need now,” he said as he pulled out one of his daggers. “Or else you will suddenly become left handed.”
He didn’t talk. He just looked at the clown and clenched his mouth shut.
“Look ma’, no hands…” Renaissance raised the dagger in the air, ready to bring it down.
“OKAY! Okay! I’ll—gulp—I’ll talk…”
****
The information lead me here. For that guy’s sake, he’d better been right…
Renaissance stepped of his motorcycle and headed for the front door. He then paused.
No. Not a good idea to go through the front. Better take the window. I just gotta find the right one.
He looked up and saw a window with the lights out. Though all the windows of the building had their lights out, he could see movement from inside. He didn’t wait a minute more to be sure. Renaissance began climbing up the fire escape.
“Please, J-Jamal,” pleaded Page, as she backed up into a corner. Her red jacket and shirt were ripped off of her, leaving her only in her bra. “P-please, Jamal.”
Jamal removed his jacket and pulled out a knife.
“You ain’t gonna lock me up an git away wit it,” said Jamal. “Time to finish what I started and I’ma like this.”
“Please, Jamal. No,” she said as her tears drenched her face. “No.”
“This is gonna hurt you more den it’s gonna hurt me…”
“I beg to differ,” said a voice. Jamal froze as he looked at his window, and there stood a cloaked figure of darkness. Renaissance.
Jamal dropped his knife, and quickly pulled out a gun from his pocket, ready to fire it.
Don’t think so…
Renaissance broke through the glass and threw his fist out at Jamal’s chin.
This isn’t something he’d want to go home and talk about…
Jamal got back up on his feet and swung at Renaissance, but missed.
Hey ya’ll, I just got my ass handed to me by a clown…
Jamal then threw his body at Renaissance and the two fell on the mattress. Page curled up in the corner.
No it wasn’t the Joker.
Unknowingly to the Heroic Jester, Jamal grabbed his dropped gun and broke free from Renaissance.
“DIE, YOU F@#% CLOWN!” Jamal fired a bullet and it grazed his shoulder.
Nothing serious. I should be alright.
Renaissance then leaped at Jamal and the two crashed through the door as they continued fighting. Many of the tenants rushed out of their door to see what was going on. One of them rushed back into the room to call the police.
****
“Officers, the Renaissance has just been reported to be on Clifton street,” said someone over the walkie talkies.
Jacobs sat in his car as he heard this and looked outside to his partner Stroman. He signaled for him to forget the Big Mac order and lets go.
And with God speed, they took off.
****
They wonder why I dress up the way I do, like a clown.
Jamal dropped his weapon and threw a punch at Renaissance’s face, throwing his balance off.
They wonder why not a bat, or red and blue tights, or green and black tights.
Jamal threw another one to his stomach, and Renaissance retaliated with a blow to his knee cap. Nearly snapped it.
I wear this in honor of Scaramouch, my teacher. If it wasn’t for him, I probably wouldn’t be here. Besides, I want to give my enemies something to smile about right before they go down…
Jamal fell back in pain. He leaned over the railing of the large flight of stairs. He came closer and closer to the edge, until…
****
Jacobs and Stroman stepped out their squad car as they saw an ambulance carrying a body into the truck.
All of the tenants were already being questioned by authorities. Stroman and Jacobs were too late.
“Damnit,” said Stroman, clenching his fists. “We’re too late.”
“Wait, Stroman,” said Jacobs as he tapped his partner on his shoulder. “Look who.”
The two stared as they saw a Page Michaels walk over to them. She had refused to talk to the other officers, only them. She was told to talk to only them.
“Officer Jacobs and Officer Stroman?” asked Page, wiping her eyes.
“Yes. Page Michaels?” asked Jacobs.
“Yeah.”
“What happened here?” Stroman looked at the body in the stretcher that was being carried away. “Is he…?”
“Nah,” she answered. “He hurt himself when he fell over the rail and landed on the ground.”
“Lemme guess, Renaissance?”
Page nodded slowly.
“Come on,” said Jacobs as he walked over to her and put her arm around her. “Let’s get you home.”
“Thanks,” she said as she followed them to the car. As she walked, she saw out of the corner of her eye, the Heroic Jester standing atop the roof of the building. She smiled and continued walking. “Oh, and I heard there was a reward for that 8astard over there…”
****
Renaissance rode his motorcycle down large alleyway.
Action and consequence. For every action there is a consequence. Tonight I saved a girl from being harmed, maybe even killed. Action. Consequence? Dunno.
Renaissance rode out of the alleyway and speeded past a black Mercedes Benz parked on the sidewalk occupied by two Asian people, one a male and the other a female.
That’s how karma works. Whatever one does, it comes right back at them. They do good, they get good. The universal boomerang they call it.
Inside the vehicle, the two eyes Renaissance as he speeded down the road.
But for some reason whenever I do good and toss that boomerang, karma takes that boomerang, and switches it with something bad and hurls it my way.
The Asian male pulled out a phone and dialed a number. He heard it ring, and then it was answered.
“Yeah, boss. The clown just headed down past W street. Shall we proceed?”
“Yeah,” said another male’s voice over the phone. “Make sure you follow him. You know what to do from there…”
The man hung up the phone and looked at his companion. Then, two drove off, quietly pursuing the Heroic Jester…
This story is inspired by that character and I hope you like it. It's already on part 3 at Pojo, so here are all parts of it:
Washington, D.C. Also known as the District of Columbia. I was raised here until I was 7. My name’s John Arthur III by the way. I'm an actor. I loved D.C. The culture, the art, the excitement, and the art. I grew up with a passion for art. But then I had to leave that all behind when I discovered that the people I grew up with for 7 years were not my birth parents, but my adopted parents, and my birth parents lived in Paris. I was apart of one of the wealthiest families around Paris. I was sent to live in D.C. with my adopted parents, whom happened to be relatives of ours, to protect me from the bad people. The people who wanted us dead to take our wealth away. When they wanted me to return, I did, but stayed for only a few years. I wanted to return to D.C., my home. My parents weren’t too pleased by the thought, but they agreed and sent me home, but not alone. By my side, I had the family’s new hired bodyguard, only known as Scaramouch. When he and I relocated back to D.C., I wanted to be just like him, and he trained me. He trained me to be just like him in the art of sword fighting and, if necessary, assassination. I grew up to be his shadow, his echo. And then, one day, he just disappeared. I knew why this happened. It was a test. To see if I was powerful enough to protect myself, and be like him, protecting others as well. I look at D.C., the way I left it, and then I look at it now, the way it has become. It had lost its culture, its art. Lost it all to crime and corruption. D.C., my home, needed a rebirth. A rebirth. A renaissance. I would be the one to lead D.C. into its renaissance. I would BE the Renaissance…
Red X Unmasked presents: KARMA part 1
I don’t know how I get myself into these things…
A tall handsome young black male walked down the sidewalk of 13th street NW of D.C. He had neatly cut hair and a sharp goatee. He wore a NorthFace jacket with jeans and boots. Under is he wore a golden brown turtle neck. Next to him walked, what appeared to be another male, but was a girl a bit younger than him; 2 years he thinks. She purposely wanted to look like a male tonight. She wore a red hooded jacket with a cap over her eyes. She wore large jeans boots like John was wearing. She tried hard to conceal her breast so people won’t notice them; Maybe no one will notice, she thinks.
How do I get myself into these things?
They turned a corner and continued walking down the dark cold streets of D.C.
This place has grown to be—well not hell, but on the tip. 21 deaths this year thus far due to gun violence. Sad, really. What’s even sadder is how girls can’t even leave the house anymore without getting hassled by some dude with a knife and a perverted mind.
They crossed the street and walked farther on to the gas station.
But in a way, it’s the girls fault. I mean really, who leaves the house dead at night in D.C.?
They walked over to the store and stepped inside.
No, wait. I shouldn’t be saying that. I really shouldn’t. If I really felt that ay, then I wouldn’t be helping her, now would I?
“Want anything, Page?” asked John to the girl, holding out money from his pocket.
“Nah,” she said, looking around nervously. “I’m good. Let’s just hurry up and get outta here.”
“Oh, alright then.” John laid some money on the counter, and pointed to a pack of M&M’s and Gummy Worms.
The two walked out of the store and continued walking away, until she saw them. Him especially.
John stared out in her direction and saw a dark green Sedan parked out in front. The car was surrounded by about 6 males, all looking like they’ve been to jail and back more than once.
Page stared over at one of the men in particular. He wore a NorthFace jacket as well with the hood over his head. He wore gloves and black jeans. Though his face was concealed by the hood and the darkness, she still could sense it was him.
Jamal Dean. That’s his name. He’s the cause of this. If it wasn’t for him, I’d be out with a girl or something, or at home with a girl, or somewhere else with a girl.
John began walking in the opposite direction, signaling “Peter” to come along. Page knew what this meant, and she began walking behind John.
Well, when you think about it, I am with a girl. And he’s the cause of it.
As they walked, Page snuck a glance back at the group of people and noticed that they went inside the car and drove off in the opposite direction of where they were going. She let out a sigh of relief, and continued walking with John.
“This is why little girls shouldn’t leave the house at night, Page,” said John.
“Little? I ain’t little. Just ‘cause you 2 years older than me don’t mean nothing.”
John sighed.
If it wasn’t for him, then I wouldn’t be here with her.
They then made a turn down an alleyway. John opened up his pack of M&M’s and opened them and popped three in his mouth. Page held out her hand.
“Nope. You said you didn’t want any.”
“So? That was before and this is now. Let me get some, please?”
Just then, John froze. Page did as well. He heard tires screeching. She heard tires screeching. He backed up. She backed up. And they saw it. Large bright lights at the end of the tunnel. There were two of them.
Screeching tires? A car maybe? A CAR!?
“OH, $@#! PAGE MOVE!” John shouted as he pushed Page out of the way and stood in the way of the car.
“NO!” screamed the fallen girl as she the saw the lights and John grow closer and closer.
The body of the black male fell onto the hood of the car and rolled on top of it and crashed on the ground. His body lay there, motionless.
The car stopped and out walked Jamal and his crew. They all smiled at Page as they got closer.
“You think you gonna lock me up and git away wit it?” asked Jamal. He turned to his ‘boys’ and signaled for them to go take care of the body. They didn’t hit him too hard, so he shouldn’t be dead.
Page lay there in the pile of garbage and broken glass, frightened for her life.
Jamal leaned closer and closer and closer. He was ready to finish what he’d started.
And, with God speed, she grabbed a piece of glass and slapped it across his face, giving him a long gash across his cheek. She dropped the glass and ran off.
“Ya’ll stay here! I’ma git her!” And Jamal followed Page down the street.
John struggled to get on his feet. He shook his head and spit.
8astards made me drop my M&M's.
“Look like he still up,” said one of the thugs.
“Don’t worry,” said another one as he pulled out a knife from his pocket, followed by the others. “He ain’t gonna be up no more.”
Slowly as John rose to his knees, he held his hands out and, unseen to the thugs, two sharp steel objects fell into his hands.
Quickly, one of the thugs lunged for the seemingly helpless John with the knife high in the air, gleaming in the moonlight. And as quickly as he lunged, he fell to the ground with a large gash on his chest; blood seeping out of his skin.
“What the @#$!?” exclaimed the thugs as they looked over at John who stood up tall with, what appeared to be, 5 inch long daggers in his hands. On the blade were the words “Scaramouch”.
“Take this!” shouted the second thug as he swung his knife for John. Quickly, he moved out of the way of the knife, and swiped his dagger at his wrist, nearly cutting it off. Oh, but John did not stop there. He continued going.
He spun around and elbowed one of them in the stomach and punched him with an uppercut, breaking his jaw; he bent down and punched another one’s leg, snapping it; he shot up in the air and made four swipes at his chest, and when put together, the swipes left a disfigured ‘R’ on his chest.
The five thugs lay there, motionless. They lay there motionless in a pool of their own blood. John then looked up at the moon as the light beamed down upon his flesh. He looked down at his bloody blades and wiped them off.
“This is going to be a long night…”
****
She came to me about a week ago. I was at the theatre, where I work. I’m an actor, and a damn good one at that. It was late at night and I had just finished acting in a play called “Bang Bang You’re Dead”. I was that troubled kid.
As John walked down the sidewalk towards his home, he passed by a squad car with two police officers. They sat in the car looking around. John knew who they were looking for. They were on patrol for the vigilante known as Renaissance. Renaissance was, in most people’s eyes, a menace to society who only brought more trouble to D.C. To others, he was a criminal, and to few, he was a hero; standing up for those who cannot speak for themselves, protecting the neighborhood from crooks and thugs.
What really gave people an uneasy feeling about this character was his appearance. He appeared to be dressed like a clown, from what eye witnesses say. Only a psychopath would dress in a clown costume and go around defending D.C.
John continued walking, when he was stopped by the call of one of the officers.
“Hey you, Arthur, is it? Come here for a sec,” called the officer. “We have to talk.”
John was worried about what he was confronting him about, but he decided to go talk anyway, for he didn’t want to make a scene by running off.
“Yes, officer,” said John. “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to congratulate you on your performance tonight,” said the officer as he stuck his hand out. “It was very nice. You could very well be on your way.”
“T-thank you, Officer…”
“Stroman. Officer Stroman. This is my partner Jacobs.”
John leaned over and looked in the other seat as the officer waved at him. He nodded back.
“Well we also wanted to let you know about a wanted criminal on the loose, named Jamal Dean.”
John remembered that name.
I read about him in the papers. He had been accused of raping a 15 year old girl named Page Michaels last year. He was sent to jail, but I don’t know for how long.
“He’s on the loose?” asked John, confused.
“Yeah,” said Jacobs. “He was sent to jail for 10 years on account of rape charges on a 15 year old girl. She’s 16 now. Well anyways, he was released from jail early due to good behavior; said he was a ‘model inmate’.”
“Well he’s back in the neighborhood and he could be dangerous,” said Stroman. “A reward is out for any information on him or his whereabouts. If you see anything, let us know, okay?”
“Of course, officers,” said John, stunned at the information. He then watched as the police car drove off.
Some rapist is free on the streets and is probably out for revenge. He’s gonna try and finish the job. I’m sure of it. That girl could be in serious trouble.
“Hello?” called a voice from the shadows of the alley behind him. John turned around, and saw a young girl walk out of the shadows. Her body trembled and her heart raced as if it was a horse.
“Ummm, can I hel—wait. You—you’re that Page girl, aren’t you?” John walked over to her.
Page backed up some.
“Don’t worry. I’m—I’m not gonna hurt you.”
“That’s what Jamal said,” she replied. “He’s out there somewhere.”
“So I’ve heard. Where is your home? Why aren’t you there?”
“’Cause he knows what neighborhood I live in. He probably knows what house. I can’t go back.”
“What about your folks?”
“They don’t know where I am. I ran away, ‘cause Jamal was coming. I jus know it. He’s out there lookin for me ‘cause I got him locked up. He wants me.”
Page ran over to John and cried, resting her head on his shoulders. John was stunned, not knowing what to do.
“Please can you help me?”
“You’d trust a total stranger with your life?” asked John.
“You’re not that much of a stranger. I know who you are. John Arthur something. That actor at the theatre. You're pretty good.”
“Nice to know I have your recognition.”
“Please,” she said once more. “I need your help.”
She ran into his arms, crying in sheer fear.
“You can count on me. I’ll help you…”
****
From that night on, I was kind of like her bodyguard. I picked her up from school, watched over her. I was her guardian angel…
A figure in what appeared to be a purple and blue jumpsuit rode down the streets of the night on a red and black motorcycle. He wore a purple and blue mask and wore a jester’s hat over his head. He wore black gloves and boots, and had a custom made sword strapped to his back. It wasn’t fancy, nor plain. It was just right for him. Around his waist was a black utility belt of some sort, with all sorts of concealed blades held within.
And I let her get away…
The figure then stopped in front of an apartment building on Clifton street. The figure stared at the building long and hard. This figure was the Renaissance.
****
“Where IS he!?” shouted Renaissance, standing in one of the hangouts of the lowlifes in town. He was surrounded by fallen bodies, all nearly motionless. He had beaten and battered them all. All he needed was a simple “Oh, I’ll tell you where Jamal lives, Mr. Renaissance. I bet you’ll find the girl with him as well. Here’s the address, I hope was of some service”.
But no. It could’ve gone that way.
But no.
He could’ve been on his merry way by now.
But no.
Everyone could’ve continued gambling and playing pool without gaining any broken bones and severe cuts.
But no.
Renaissance was tired of this. He then looked over to his side and grabbed a random lowlife.
“You’re gonna tell me what I need now,” he said as he pulled out one of his daggers. “Or else you will suddenly become left handed.”
He didn’t talk. He just looked at the clown and clenched his mouth shut.
“Look ma’, no hands…” Renaissance raised the dagger in the air, ready to bring it down.
“OKAY! Okay! I’ll—gulp—I’ll talk…”
****
The information lead me here. For that guy’s sake, he’d better been right…
Renaissance stepped of his motorcycle and headed for the front door. He then paused.
No. Not a good idea to go through the front. Better take the window. I just gotta find the right one.
He looked up and saw a window with the lights out. Though all the windows of the building had their lights out, he could see movement from inside. He didn’t wait a minute more to be sure. Renaissance began climbing up the fire escape.
“Please, J-Jamal,” pleaded Page, as she backed up into a corner. Her red jacket and shirt were ripped off of her, leaving her only in her bra. “P-please, Jamal.”
Jamal removed his jacket and pulled out a knife.
“You ain’t gonna lock me up an git away wit it,” said Jamal. “Time to finish what I started and I’ma like this.”
“Please, Jamal. No,” she said as her tears drenched her face. “No.”
“This is gonna hurt you more den it’s gonna hurt me…”
“I beg to differ,” said a voice. Jamal froze as he looked at his window, and there stood a cloaked figure of darkness. Renaissance.
Jamal dropped his knife, and quickly pulled out a gun from his pocket, ready to fire it.
Don’t think so…
Renaissance broke through the glass and threw his fist out at Jamal’s chin.
This isn’t something he’d want to go home and talk about…
Jamal got back up on his feet and swung at Renaissance, but missed.
Hey ya’ll, I just got my ass handed to me by a clown…
Jamal then threw his body at Renaissance and the two fell on the mattress. Page curled up in the corner.
No it wasn’t the Joker.
Unknowingly to the Heroic Jester, Jamal grabbed his dropped gun and broke free from Renaissance.
“DIE, YOU F@#% CLOWN!” Jamal fired a bullet and it grazed his shoulder.
Nothing serious. I should be alright.
Renaissance then leaped at Jamal and the two crashed through the door as they continued fighting. Many of the tenants rushed out of their door to see what was going on. One of them rushed back into the room to call the police.
****
“Officers, the Renaissance has just been reported to be on Clifton street,” said someone over the walkie talkies.
Jacobs sat in his car as he heard this and looked outside to his partner Stroman. He signaled for him to forget the Big Mac order and lets go.
And with God speed, they took off.
****
They wonder why I dress up the way I do, like a clown.
Jamal dropped his weapon and threw a punch at Renaissance’s face, throwing his balance off.
They wonder why not a bat, or red and blue tights, or green and black tights.
Jamal threw another one to his stomach, and Renaissance retaliated with a blow to his knee cap. Nearly snapped it.
I wear this in honor of Scaramouch, my teacher. If it wasn’t for him, I probably wouldn’t be here. Besides, I want to give my enemies something to smile about right before they go down…
Jamal fell back in pain. He leaned over the railing of the large flight of stairs. He came closer and closer to the edge, until…
****
Jacobs and Stroman stepped out their squad car as they saw an ambulance carrying a body into the truck.
All of the tenants were already being questioned by authorities. Stroman and Jacobs were too late.
“Damnit,” said Stroman, clenching his fists. “We’re too late.”
“Wait, Stroman,” said Jacobs as he tapped his partner on his shoulder. “Look who.”
The two stared as they saw a Page Michaels walk over to them. She had refused to talk to the other officers, only them. She was told to talk to only them.
“Officer Jacobs and Officer Stroman?” asked Page, wiping her eyes.
“Yes. Page Michaels?” asked Jacobs.
“Yeah.”
“What happened here?” Stroman looked at the body in the stretcher that was being carried away. “Is he…?”
“Nah,” she answered. “He hurt himself when he fell over the rail and landed on the ground.”
“Lemme guess, Renaissance?”
Page nodded slowly.
“Come on,” said Jacobs as he walked over to her and put her arm around her. “Let’s get you home.”
“Thanks,” she said as she followed them to the car. As she walked, she saw out of the corner of her eye, the Heroic Jester standing atop the roof of the building. She smiled and continued walking. “Oh, and I heard there was a reward for that 8astard over there…”
****
Renaissance rode his motorcycle down large alleyway.
Action and consequence. For every action there is a consequence. Tonight I saved a girl from being harmed, maybe even killed. Action. Consequence? Dunno.
Renaissance rode out of the alleyway and speeded past a black Mercedes Benz parked on the sidewalk occupied by two Asian people, one a male and the other a female.
That’s how karma works. Whatever one does, it comes right back at them. They do good, they get good. The universal boomerang they call it.
Inside the vehicle, the two eyes Renaissance as he speeded down the road.
But for some reason whenever I do good and toss that boomerang, karma takes that boomerang, and switches it with something bad and hurls it my way.
The Asian male pulled out a phone and dialed a number. He heard it ring, and then it was answered.
“Yeah, boss. The clown just headed down past W street. Shall we proceed?”
“Yeah,” said another male’s voice over the phone. “Make sure you follow him. You know what to do from there…”
The man hung up the phone and looked at his companion. Then, two drove off, quietly pursuing the Heroic Jester…