Reno, NV, USA

[cine]

The night was cool, brisk and enlivening on the cheeks as Mona marched in the alleys and gutters of her city. She felt she had tasted heaven and she was on the hunt for another bite. Vivid images of her first bust played in her head and with the memory of each land of her fist her gait became stronger, more confident and ready for another fight. At first, walking the streets with the word ‘vigilante’ running through her head made her feel foolish but when she saw the poor young girl in her torn fishnets kicked out of the jerk’s car, clutching her bruised face, Mona knew she was finally in the right place at the right time.

She felt alive, emboldened and ready to exact justice again. The slap of her Docs were heavy on the slick pavement and her last cigarette was beginning to burn the filter but before the scum of Reno could beg her for their ass whooping, Mona needed to make a quick stop. She had a hunch she’d find a perfect companion for her new hobby in the pawn shop on 5th. Raul had a way of always having what she needed, or at least being able to offer a cup of coffee and a quick laugh in those times he did not. Her nerves were mounting but her hand was steady as she pulled the shop door and cracked a smirk at her favorite salesman.

[Shubit]

Raul's pawn shop was a tired looking place stuck between a pharmacy and a closed down Chinese takeaway. The walls were ragged: graffiti crawled up the smashed windows and the drain pipes were leaking like broken lungs; breathing in polluted air and dust from the noisy road. The scent of the place was more delightful than outside: Raul enjoyed the smell of incense over tobacco and marijuana.

As Mona came through the door, he was leaning back with his feet on the counter. There was a football game on the television. The crowd roared in the stands and the commentators went crazy when someone scored, but Raul paid no attention.

The young lady walking through the door was far more appealing and attractive than any football game. She was his favourite customer, and this was a good thing as business wasn't good. He gave her a cheeky grin, pulled a tooth pick from his lips and put a set of keys on the counter.

''Mo-nay-nay!" he said. 'I was thinkin' that you'd show. What can I do for ya?'

[cine]

Mona’s nose crinkled at the sound of his awful pet name for her and she laughed before explaining her visit. “I could use a friend, a lil larger than my palm, real sleek.” She approached the glass case of weaponry and began taking in the new knives Raul had acquired since her last visit. “I think I’ve found a new calling and I’ve missed having something other than my fists to protect me out there.” She hadn’t owned a knife of her own since her days on the street with the gang of girls who’d raised her. It was often the only thing between her and some of the worst fates Reno had to offer homeless young girls.

Her eye caught a few candidates for ownership but Mona couldn’t be sure of her choice until she felt them out. “Think I could try some of these out?” she asked. She was sure something would click the first time she held ‘the one’.

[Shubit]

Raul grinned wide and true when Mona started laughing.
'A friend eh?' he said, rising to his feet to have a better look at the knife cabinet.
The woman had an authority complex for sure: buying knives from a pawn shop was one thing but calling them friends was something else entirely. It was a twisted thing but he enjoyed it; it was a mighty good change from women obsessing over shoes.

'Yeah, of course you can,' he approached the cabinet and unlocked it with a small bronze key. The knives were on a tray in some plastic foam for protection. Beside her Raul pointed at a few of them while chewing on another tooth pick.

'Give it a try,' he said. 'That one has a nice design on the handle, you see it? Fits in the palm well too.'

With his free hand he pulled out a smaller knife and held it up to the light. 'Hah, and this one's a keeper. Real silver.'

He looked back at her patiently.

[cine]

"A little fancy, no?" she let Raul drop the knife into her palm and ran her fingers over the etched swirls in the handle. It was beautiful to her, no doubt, but it didn't quite feel related to her. Despite her doubts she gripped the handle and held her arm straight out, feeling how it extended the length of her reach. One last weighing of the piece in her palm and she knew it wouldn't be the one.

"It's lovely but it's not really me, ya know?" she politely remarked, gently handing the knife back into Raul's possession.

Her eyes scanned the inventory and caught sight of a thicker blade with some noticeable wear. She didn't mind the wear, a knife with history was appealing to her. Just before she asked to hold it she noticed the butt of the knife subtly formed the head of a crow.

"The black one there, please." she pointed with her hopes rising.

[Shubit]

'Fancy? Yeah,' agreed Raul who looked quite pleased with his collection. The silver baby she held was an African design that was donated to him by an old woman in the late 90's. She had been a sweet thing but he had always wondered why she had obtained such a dangerous object. For full circle moments like these he thought. The elderly give back to the young, what the young give back to the elderly.

'You're choosin,' said Raul. 'I know how you ladies want it just right.'

The crow handled knife was something he tried to keep hidden. In all honesty this was something he preferred not to show to customers as he believed it to be a genuine relic. For a fragment of a second, a faint look of disappointment fell over his face but this was quickly replaced with a chuckle.

'That one is called "The Old One"' said Raul. 'The man who sold that to me made up some whacky story up about some ancient Mayan sacrificial ritual, or somethin'. If you ask me it feels grave just lookin' at it.'

He pulled his hand and retrieved the The Old One from its case. There was a thin lining of preserving material over the blade which he slowly removed, before he placed it Mona's palm.

[cine]

Mona sensed a dread in the exchange of the knife from Raul’s hand to her own. It amused her, she wasn’t a particularly superstitious woman. The knife had a heavy story and whether it was true or not the knife still had a certain ominous quality that Mona could adore.

“Grave indeed” Mona sighed as she turned the knife in the air, working the angle of her wrist in all directions. It was the most comfortable knife she’d ever felt. The Old One eh?, she mused. It was perfect on all counts but most of all it felt familiar. Mona was overcome with a sense of déjà vu between her palm and the curve of the crows head.

"Raul... I think we have a winner" her eyes betrayed her emotions. In all honesty, she was intoxicated with the power of the knife. Her hand quickly darted in her pocket for the last of the wad of singles she’d earned in her short stint as a ‘professional’ dancer. She placed both the knife and the money on the glass top case and gave Raul her best Fuck the haggling, take it or leave it... please face.

The excitement of her next bust had just rushed over her in one overwhelming wave. She couldn't help feel something like fate hanging in the air.

[Shubit]

Perhaps it was fate hanging in the air for Raul stopped. He too experienced a couple of seconds of deja vu. The knife and the money on the table, her very words; he could have sworn that this had all happened before. Enough, he thought. She was just a pretty woman, and those kind always messed with his body clock.

He looked into the face long and hard and found that he was smiling at her. She was good, you know. It was more than the usual female charm, no, this girl had something else entirely. She was charismatic and she knew what she wanted. As he walked over to the counter to collect it, he realized something very deep and profound in his system. It was something that he wasn't comfortable enough to share as to be honest, he was never really open about his emotions like this. Yet deep down he had a very strong feeling that this was the last time he would see her. Maybe it was true he thought. Perhaps she was going away, leaving the States behind.

Not asking her, he nodded. 'Do I have a choice?' and laughed with his head shaking like a little boy in trouble with his mother.

Once it was packed in its case, he wrapped it up in a bag and put it into the counter taking another look right at her between the eyes.

'You'd better be careful Mo'Nay Nay,' 'I don't know what you plan to do with that knife, but you'd keep yourself safe, won't ya? There's enough young pretty girls getting beaten up, and I don't wanna see you on there,'

[cine]

Mona didn’t lie often but she didn’t have anyone she cared about enough to lie to either. So it did take her by surprise when she instinctively responded “Of course” with a laugh and a “Safe is my middle name”. A part of her deep within melted at the thought of having someone care about her well-being. His emotional gaze made her fidget a bit though and she found it difficult to maintain eye contact, her cheeks getting hot and her palms getting clammy as if she didn’t walk in nervous enough. The sound of the streets behind her were suddenly deafening, a mixture of dread and apprehension almost surfaced in her mind before Mona quieted the emotions to a whisper. She found only the strength to return Raul’s gaze once again and bid him farewell for the evening.

“Have a good night, Raul. I’ll be seeing ya.” With a bag now in hand, she backed out the shop, stopping only at the doorway to shout “ And keep an eye out for a solid toaster. Mine’s been a bit wonky lately”. Mona winked and breathed the night air once again, grimy and thick by comparison with the smell of Raul’s burning incense.

She ditched the bag in the nearest dumpster behind an overcrowded apartment building down the block. She needed the moment to gather her thoughts as she turned the Old One in her hands and took a couple deep breaths. It made her arm feel longer, even stronger. She wasn’t sure where her night was headed but she was sure an opportunity would present itself.

[Shubit]

Away from Raul's shop and further downtown there stood a circle of motorcyclists who from a distance, appeared to be praying. On closer inspection it would be clear that they were smoking, and by the intoxicating fumes and heavy scents that were bellowing from the group, it was the most vile thing on the black market.

The face of their leader lit up in the darkness as his comrade lit another for him. His face was ragged, sallow skinned and bony as if the flesh barely pulled over his skull. His eyes while red from the strain of the smoke in his mouth had an uncanny depth about them with deep sockets and alluring blackness that might have been eyeliner or a poor attempt at it. From his curled lips there were a number of piercings which stopped at the top of his beard which was a small unkept stubbly display. Beneath this was a leather biker jacket that had an oiley effect to it, such that his body was a walking oil spill, slick and almost invisible in the darkness. He commanded enough power to make anyone feel that he could blaze with anger at any given moment.

The stillness of the circle was dead in the night. Even passers by noticed the unnatural phenomenon of this group; their silence, their perfect stance and the sixth sense hanging over the scene, the elephant in the room that would make any bystander scared to the bone at the very thought of what they were going to do that night.

Then a shrill cry let out into the open, not far from the group. Beneath an array of street lamps, another biker jacket emerged clutching a young girl, no more than the age of twenty. As she drew close to the group the unnatural silence was lifted when they applauded her arrival with great joy, some of the group spitting at her or finishing off their cigarettes by plunging them into her bare skin. She cried out again to the sound of the leader hushing her by kissing her neck and pulling her hair back until she cried out again and more laughter echoed out into the space.

Then the leader spoke and with his words came a rapt audience.

'Tonight,' he said, his voice cold. 'You will be our little sacrifice.'

[cine]

Something about the air shifted, signaling to Mona that the time had come. Rather than give herself the moment to hesitate, she set out, emerging on the street, alert and present but only hearing the slap of her own boots on the concrete. As she marched downtown, the breeding ground for the city’s sleaziest of characters, she listened. The streets were quiet, at least for now, and without thought she let the street lead her where it may. The few pedestrians and bums she passed saw only a gothic goddess, a beauty in black leather staring intently in the distance as though her path had purpose. She was intimidating and silent. Her only focus being the impact of her fist and the twist of her knife that someone somewhere already deserved.

Reaching the heart of downtown, Mona observed the usual scenes of drunks stumbling onto sidewalks and desperate woman waiting nervously on corners. Sad sights but common, no evils being committed just yet. She resolved to observe the hookers from a distance and purchased a fresh pack of cigarettes from the news stand across the street to keep her busy while she waited.

Mona stepped from the sidewalk into the shadow of an alley and began her watch. An occasional puff of smoke was all that gave her position in the darkness away. Only a few puffs later she swore she heard a distant sound come from the depths of the alley behind her. Her brow furrowed and she listened intently. A moment later she heard the unmistakable sound of a distressed cry, followed by what she swore was male laughter, a lot of it. Rather than fear, Mona felt rage. She was well acquainted with her rage and a smile broke across her face as the familiar feeling returned. It was accompanied by the feeling of purpose she’d experienced in her first bust just the night before.

She turned, facing the darkness of the alley, and flicked her cigarette away. The sounds could be coming from one street away, she had her opportunity and the shadows were on her side. Her boots no longer slapped but crept, indiscernible even as the alley created a perfect chamber for echoes. Eventually, Mona saw the glow of street lights in the distance and, as she neared, the silhouette of a group of men became clear. She couldn’t make out much even as she closed the distance between the gang and herself so she eyed a fire escape a few meters ahead.

Once perched, having stealthfully navigated her way atop the escape without much more than the squeak of a rusty hinge, Mona was able to observe a sinister sight. The men, all rough and mean in demeanor, were huddled around a young weeping girl. Right place, right time, she applauded herself as she uncovered The Old One. The touch of it was electrifying and she got the ridiculous impression that her dear knife was excited for this too. While she felt lethal, she also felt smart and knew she’d need to take a moment to observe and find a proper weakness to form the basis of her plan of attack. That there were many of them and only one of her was the first thing on her mind.

[Shubit]

Across the main road, the sound of sirens felt lost and forgotten. Club music turned to distant reverb, silencing the screams that played in the darkness.

The biker jackets grabbed her body, pinching, tugging and snatching. There was no way out. Mona would see that the circle was almost impenetrable. Their bodies were all over her. They laughed, cheered and chanted and the sound was frightening, beyond anything you would ordinarily hear. They wrenched her high heels from her and scattered her necklace to the floor. The second screams were muffled; she shook violently in their hold like she was stuck in boiling water. Their leader kneeled down by her face with a twisted look of fatherly love.

'Hush,' he said. 'Save your energy. It is time. We have been waiting for this moment.'

He pressed his lips firmly on her head and suddenly a great shine omitted from his pocket. It was a knife. The girls eyes widened and her face grew a shade of pale. The violent tremors gradually lost their energy as looking up at him, she finally accepted her fate.

[cine]

Gotcha, Mona sneered as she recognized the leader of the bastards. She’d recognize that dead looking motherfucker anywhere. She’d seen how uncomfortable the girls at the club were whenever he walked in, demanding and condescending. This will be a pleasure my dear, Mona weighed her options quickly and decisively. This girl needed to get away no matter what happened and Mona would need to distract epically in order to give her the opportunity. If Bruce Willis was right, Mangalores don’t fight without the leader, Mona chuckled at her own joke and let that optimism inform her plan.

Lets hope I still remember how to do this. One deep breath as Mona accepted whatever would unfold and then a flash of black and silver piercing the air.

She threw The Old One, pointed aimfully, at the boss’s neck and followed it, lunging from her perch to right before the throng of assholes. The second she’d caught their attention she would turn on her heels and run into the darkness of the alley once again.

[Shubit]

The leader meant to carve the blade through the victims chest but stopped abruptly when something stirred in the alley way a little way off. In an unnatural reflex he ducked down.There was the sound of something whirling through the air and the leader looked up to see a knife in the head of one of his associates, who groaned briefly and buckled to the floor.

There was a burst of outrage and the group scattered like ants. They caught sight of Mona's fleeing footsteps and then pursued her. The leader snarled, pulling the Old One from the man's head and squeezed it in his hand so it was whiter than everything else. He looked at his men with madness in his eyes.

'Get her!' he called after them.

The rest of the group tore down the alley way after Mona, withdrawing knives and other sharp objects from their biker jackets. A few who were ahead aimed to grab her shoulders, while the ones behind tried to flank her further on.

The would-be victim made startled shudders by the appearance of her rescuer and she looked up at him with wide startled eyes. For the first time that night the leader had lost his smile, withdrawing his knife from her face and maintaining a new and menacing glare.