Caverns

The hollow is vast and yawning. I walk through the darkness into stripes of pale light cast on the floor by the moon, full and craggy. The windows stretch tall and rectangular, observing the twinkling lights of the city below. Incandescent jewels in a dirty maze of concrete. I do not see them, only my transparent reflection. A glass of liquor is in my hand. It is some ungodly hour. A reasonable man would be asleep by now, but I am restless. What am I doing? I am hiding. Hiding from the city and its lights and its people. 


I walk to my mantelpiece, adorned with priceless trophies that I own but did not earn. I see their picture and pick it up once more. Father. Mother. You wrestle inside me. The familiar rage trembles just beneath my skin. It settles in my stomach and gives way to a gush of adolescent insecurity. If you were here, would I still be doing what I'm doing? Would I still be who I am? No. Now is not the time for questions. It is the time to act. 


I go deeper into the cave, where the thick carpet and arched ceiling dissolve into a canopy of stalagmites and a smoothed, moist ground. I dress myself and arm my weapons. In the gloves and the mask I feel dangerous, I feel the blood coursing through my veins. When I dive into the colossal city I spot my scurrying opponents, depraved as they are. I hurt them. Among blackened eyes and broken bones my purpose returns to me. All of my passion fills the dank recesses of my cloaked being and spills over into the streets. I taste their fear, and it is sweet.

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