Chapter Text
Before she moved there with her mom, Christine Domingo had a particular image in mind. The beautiful shoreline by the turquoise water, where the breeze helped dissipate the heat. The relaxed people driving lazily around the well paved road, visiting spas and hotels. It was where Christine belonged. Unfortunately, it wasn’t where a place she could afford.
The Miami she imagined only applied to Miami by the shore. But the city they actually moved to, what Christine called simply The Rest of Miami, was anything but that. Dirty streets, broken roads above and below, suffocating heat, and an endless sprawl of run-down houses. That was the Miami Christine knew. And she hated it here.
The Rest of Miami wasn’t the home of tourists and chill people. The Rest of Miami was the home of the crazies. Characters out of a bad joke or an absurdist caricature. Like the guy in Little Haiti who wore an 18th century general’s uniform and paraded down the streets demanding people call him Louverture. Or the wannabe gangsters wearing animal head masks and harassing people in public establishments. Or the actual gangsters. The criminal gangs each with their own gimmick, representing every nationality under the sun. In only a few months in the city Christine already had a few near-encounters with some of these types. And she dreaded an actual encounter.
It was 11 PM already on another hot Thursday night when Christine stepped out into the city, ready to go home. She needn’t wear a coat. The heat of the day wouldn’t dissipate for many more hours, the humidity keeping it in place to annoy her. Instead, she wore a purple buttoned-up jacket over a pale pink top, with a knee-length purple skirt and a pair of sneakers. Hardly a formal outfit, but it suited her and her needs. The breeze from the sea brought no relief to her suffocating situation, only making her curly hair to get in her face. She swatted it aside and started walking. Her home wasn’t far, but she needed to see where she was going. It could literally be the difference between life and death.
Out of all of the shitty and dangerous neighborhoods of The Rest of Miami, Overtown was definitely one of the worst, and definitely the most inappropriately named. It was like a parody of a crime ridden small town. Except it was a walking distance from Downtown, with the shiny skyscrapers dominating the horizons. The traffic of downtown skipped it on top of the overpasses that cast their shadow on Overtown’s faded asphalt.
This time of night the creepy and dangerous types loitered around the street corners of the neighborhood. Christine did the best to avoid them. It was particularly dangerous for a woman in her early-20s to be out by herself.
She walked like she knew where she was going. Which she was, but it was important to show it, lest she be confused for a wanderer or worse, drunk. Head down, quick pace, arms in her pockets, ready to take out a pepper spray she didn’t have. But sometimes determination isn’t enough.
She was still 10 minutes out from home when she noticed somebody shadowing her. Her heart pounded hard. She focused on the various groups of loud drunkards. She must’ve missed this guy. A loner. Those types could be even more dangerous.
Christine took a sharp turn towards Henry Reeves Park, a small detour. This time at night there’s sometimes teenagers hanging out the basketball court or in the playground. He wouldn’t dare do anything to her with people watching. Of course, the teens could be dangerous too. But she’d rather risk the possible danger over the sure one.
Unfortunately, she miscalculated. There was nobody in the park. She realized it too late and walked herself into a trap. She turned around to look for a place to hide. But there was none. The trees of the park were few and skinny, a fair representation of the neighborhood as a whole. She turned back to run, but the shadowy figure was already next to her.
“Why bother, sweetheart?” he spoke with a drawling southern accent. Christine paused, her hearting skipping a beat as she was taken aback. The man was a brick wall. Wide shoulders, pale skinned and sunburnt around his face and ears.
In the light of the streetlights she could barely see his facial features, but she could read the words on his skin-tight t-shirt. “US Coast Guard”.
“I have nothing. I’m poor.” Was the first thing Christine thought to say. Her legs were shaking.
“You could always be poorer.” he smiled, one of his teeth was metal.
It was only then that Christine noticed he held an army knife, a scary thing with a jagged shiny blade and a black hilt. He twirled the thing in his hand with skillful flicks of his wrist. Christine gulped, struck silent. At least he didn’t plan to beat her to death.
“I don’t want nothing special.” He broke the silence. “Just give me your money.” He took a step and with a trained stable hand brought the tip of the knife to her throat. Christine yelped and froze.
She held onto her wallet in her jacket pocket, her knuckles turning white. She considered just giving it to him. But then what? Once he had what he came from, would he be satisfied? Would he risk letting her go after she’s seen him? Should she risk running away? She was frozen with indecision. She felt useless.
But she didn’t need to contemplate her dilemma any further. For a voice bellowed from behind her attacker.
“No, criminal!” it announced. Christine couldn’t think of a better word for how the mysterious interloper spoke. “You bring me your money!”
This made both Christine and the attacker stumble and pause. The sight of the man behind the booming voice did nothing to ease either of their confusion.
The man was pretty tall, though still a head shorter than the giant of a mugger. His build was similarly muscular though still no match. But most peculiar of all was his getup. No two words about it, he was dressed like a criminal from an old cartoon. Black and white striped cotton shirt with long sleeves, black pants, a grey beanie, and a domino mask over his eyes. Only his strong hooked nose and wide mouth and chin were clearly visible. Even more odd, across his chest he had a sash, like that of a beauty queen. It took a second for Christine to realize it was styled after yellow police ‘DO NOT CROSS’ tape.
This getup was distracting enough to draw her attention from the main thing. Because the next thing she saw was the man’s weapon. A large knife, if you could call it that, with a smooth curved blade, a few inches from her attacker’s face.
“What the fuck?!“ the mugger cried out, taking a step back.
“Did your mother raise you to speak like that, you hefty hoodlum?” the mysterious man stepped forward to close the distance, the knife held high. As he stepped under the light of the streetlights Christine could see he was smirking.
Great. She thought. Another sneaky freak. Maybe she could use this opportunity to escape.
“Don’t you talk ‘bout my mother like this!” her attacker went on the offensive. He swatted at the oddly dressed man’s wrist, smacking his large knife onto the floor.
Something told Christine she should stay.
The interloper stepped back, looking up at the mugger, whose knife was still in his hand. The two men started circling each other.
“I’ll denigrate your mother however I please, brute. If she’s even half as callous as her son.” The smirk didn’t leave the mysterious stranger’s face. “Clearly she failed in her maternal duties, or else you’d not be here.”
Christine chuckled, which made her attacker glance and her and growl. The interloper turned as well, smiling at her.
“Are you unharmed, miss?” he asked with a dashing tone that went against his chosen outfit. “Enjoying the show?”
Christine wasn’t sure what to answer. Luckily for her, and unluckily for her conversation partner, their conservation was cut short when he got smacked across the shoulder.
“Do you need help?” she reached out, but he raised his hand to stop her.
“Nonsense!” he dismissed. “It is but the swat of a toy soldier playing at the real thing.”
“You think you’re some hero, huh?” the brute was about to follow with another well-placed punch, clearly he was trained in combat. However, the mysterious stranger appeared to be trained as well.
Despite his injury, the man in the beanie dodged the second punch, and then a third. When the attacker went to slash with the knife, the man dodged by crouching to half his height. When he straightened back up, he punched up at the mugger’s chest. Despite his strong build, he couldn’t do much more than make the mountain of a man wince. But he did manage to knock the man’s weapon to the ground.
Christine watched in horror and fascination as the two men continued their dance. The mugger was on the attack for most of it, swiping and kicking, but usually hitting the empty space the stranger was just in. The man in the mask on the other hand managed to hit all of his punches, but the mugger took them in stride. To Christine’s surprise, the mysterious man took his opponent’s hits in stride as well. It was hard to tell in the dark, but the damage was starting to show.
If there was any time for Christine to escape, this was it. Both men were unarmed and occupied with each other. And with this pace they could keep going for an hour or more before they tired each other out. They’d probably still be at it when Christine’s comfortable in her own bed.
But the mysterious stranger was losing. His considerable agility and skill were no match to the mugger’s raw physical force. He was slowing down. Christine grabbed onto her coat.
She definitely knew what it was like to feel weak compared to what’s facing you. But unlike her, this crazy person took it head on. He didn’t even need to be here. Whatever his reasons were, he decided to fight for her. The least she could do was stay for him.
The fight was winding down a lot quicker than she thought. The mystery man managed to draw his attacker away from the open towards the empty playground. The two were weaving and chasing around the swings and slides. The mugger surprised the mystery man with a high kick that nearly hit his face, so he jumped up onto the slide to gain height.
It wasn’t a big slide. And it was definitely not a high quality one. Not nearly sturdy enough to hold the weight of two largely built men. It was barely enough to hold the mystery man alone. Despite his considerable balancing skills, he was finding it hard to stay up on the child-size slide. Especially when the attacker, a crazed and injured grin on his face, started shaking it violently.
“What’s wrong, Zorro, scared to come down?” the mugger taunted.
“Scared? No. I’m surprised you even know who Zorro is.” the man in the mask taunted back. “I was expecting you’d confuse me for the Hamburgler.”
The mugger grunted, and his shaking became more vigorous.
Despite the fraught situation, the mysterious man seemed to remain calm. But Christine began to panic. There had to be something she could do to help. She didn’t want to be useless. After frantically looking around she found something that might work. The swingset on the other side of the playground. One of the swings had its chain disconnected from the frame. The other one was still intact, though.
She called out to the man. “Swing!” she cried out, using both hands on her cheeks to increase her volume.
Both burly men turned to look at her. The attacker just seemed annoyed, but the mysterious interloper seemed to be on the same page. He looked at the swings, a smile creeping on his face.
The attacker cried out in force as he wound up a punch. “Die!” he screamed.
“I think I’ll pass.” The interloper said and slid down the slide. The attacker punched downward onto the slide, barely missing the mysterious man’s head as he slid pass. The cheap plastic of the slide broke on contact with his fist. He cried out as its jagged edges tore into his skin.
The man in the domino mask took that opportunity to run towards the swings. Christine was already there. She had wound up the swing as far as she could. The mugger wasn’t as delayed as they thought he’d be. In no time he started sprinting towards the fleeing mystery man, dripping blood onto the ground as he did.
“Now!” the mystery man cried out, and Christine released the swing with all of her strength. The mugger was seconds from catching up to him before he dashed aside, falling onto the ground. The attacker was left with only the swing in front of him, which hit him right in the groin.
It would’ve been hilarious if the mugger’s cry of pain wasn’t so terrifying. He stumbled forward, his thick frame getting caught in the chains. The mysterious interloper then took him out of his misery with a smack to the head using the other swing. Silence returned to the park.
Christine and the man stood there over the unconscious body of the mugger, tangled up in the rusty chains and cheap plastic. Both were quite winded. Christine even more so, despite the fact she barely did anything. The mystery man didn’t waste any time. He took the loose chain from the other swing and wrapped it around the mugger’s thick wrists.
“Thank you for the assist, dear maiden. Your environmental thinking is quite developed.” The man said as he finished tying the knot around the mugger.
“Thank you?” Christine replied to the odd compliment. “And thank you for saving me.” She looked at the mugger, not nearly as scary now, though still quite a grizzly sight with bruises on his arms and head, and a bleeding hand. “Do we call the police?”
“Why bother? The police are useless.” The man chuckled to himself. “Especially in these sorts of neighborhoods.”
“Yeah… I can attest to that.” Christine sighed. She looked up at her savior. The first time she got a good look at him.
He was quite handsome. His wide and chiseled features could easily be found on a model. The color of his eyes was hard to determine in the low light, but she thought the bits of hair poking from under the beanie were crimson in color.
“I’m Christine.” She blurted out. A mistake, she realized before she even finished the sentence. But this crazy isn’t as bad as the other ones, she thought. And they kinda work well together.
“I’m the Law Man of Crime.” He replied casually, as though that was the sanest thing in the world.
Christine sighed, smiling a little as she did. Of course it’d be something like this. “What does that even mean- WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” she cried out as she saw the Law Man of Crime starting to unzip the unconscious mugger’s pants.
“Worry not, I’m not into that kind of crime. I’m merely robbing him.” He continued to speak very casually.
“B-but why? What-” she was left speechless.
“Did you you hear me before? When I extorted the scum for his money? Which reminds me, I ought to grab both knives before I go.” he looked up as he took off the mugger’s pants. The unconscious man had a pair of boxers with a hearts print on it, like in cartoons.
“But I thought you were a hero! Like, a vigilante.” Christine looked in shock as the man started rifling through the attacker’s pockets.
“Criminals are unfazed by heroism. They don’t learn from being defeated by the law.” He exclaimed. It sounded as though he had it prepared. “Let’s see… Brandon Clay. Ex-Coast Guard. That explains the shirt.” He looked at an ID card of sorts he took out of the mugger’s wallet.
“So you think they’ll respond to being robbed better?!” Christine asked. The sane thing to do was run away. But she was actually curious.
“As a matter of fact I do. At the very least it’s a likelier outcome” He turned to look at her, and there was something in his covered eyes that instantly captivated her.
“Think of it like this: When he stepped out of his shady abode tonight to seek hapless victims to rob, did he not know the consequences should he be caught?” he emptied the man’s pockets and then folded the pants over his shoulder. “Police arrest. Prison time. Meeting other convicts in prison. Making yet more criminal connections. Learning from them how to be a superior criminal.” He sported an exaggerated smile, clearly showing his disapproval. “If he was sent to prison at all. Chances are, he’d be back on the streets the next day, free to continue down his dark path.”
The Law Man of Crime smiled again, his serious face going soft. “But this.” He gestured at the pathetic figure tied up in the swings. “Robbed of his possessions and in his underwear. I bet you he did not foresee that outcome. And if he knew it was a possibility, he wouldn’t have risked it.”
Christine looked closer at the figure of her attacker. She imagined what he’d think waking up in his underwear like this. Then she remembered seeing other criminal types on the streets. Their heads held high even as they’re arrested. They didn’t care about being arrested. The crazy person in the mask was right. But this… maybe they’ll care about that.
“I guess you’re right… in a fucked up sort of way.” Christine said.
“Language!” the Law Man of Crime commented.
“Oops yeah, sorry.” Christine chuckled. He looked at him, and was startled to see his hand reaching forward, several bills folded neatly between his fingers. “W-wha I can’t take this! It’s ill gotten gains!”
“Fair enough. More for me. I figured since you were the main victim of this dastardly crime, that you were owed some compensation.” He kicked the downed criminal. The mugger reacted, started to shift. He was waking up.
“Oh shit.” The Law Man of Crime whispered, which drew an irate look from Chirstine. “Time to bounce.” He walked away, soon starting to sprint.
“Wait!” Christine ran with him.
“Do no follow me. We’re harder to catch when we’re split up.”
“No, I mean. Your name…”
“If you’re referring to my legal name, I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to share it, for I am right now parking in illegalities.” He looked down and picked up the knives from the ground, one after another.
“I figured that…” Christine herself looked back, the mugger was starting to come to, but was still disoriented. “I mean… Law Man of Crime is kinda long. How about just ‘Crime Man’?”
The mysterious non-hero paused. He scratched his chin. “I’ll consider it.” He turned to her and smiled. “Thank you, Christine.”
“You’re welcome. What for?”
“For making my first night on the job a memorable one.” He smirked and then turned behind a thin wispy tree.
“You mean this is the first time-“ she turned to look at him. But he was gone. “What the fuck…” she whispered, mostly to herself.
~
The rest of her walk home was blissfully uneventful. It felt weird. Like the world should acknowledge what just happened to her. But Overtown stayed its regular dirty self. And her house was just as run down and overprice.
The light inside nearly blinded her, and the noise blaring from the TV didn’t help. It was nearly midnight. Her mother, a greying woman in her early sixties who didn’t look much like her, didn’t even raise her head to look at her. “Hi mom.” She said, her voice a little hoarse.
Her mother still didn’t look at her. Her head was in her papers, which were spread haphazardly over the living room table in a manner that only she could understand. “How is your brother?” she asked, her voice almost as hoarse as Christine’s.
This took Christine out for a moment. She almost forgot the reason she was out to begin with. “Paul’s doing well. The doctors say that-“
“Is he still a lazy lying bastard?” her mother interrupted her, still without looking up. Her tone was full of venom without raising her voice much at all.
Christine frowned, a crease forming in her brow. “Goodnight, mom.” She replied with equal venom.
She didn’t wait for her mom’s response, if one was even forthcoming. She walked upstairs to her room and took off her jacket, getting ready for bed. Taking out her keys and wallet, she noticed something extra. It was a small stack of neatly folded bills. The same bills that Crime Man offered her earlier.
She chuckled, gently sliding them into her wallet. As she crawled into bed, she looked at the ceiling and wondered if she’ll ever see him again.