Billy Crimson

Any American City, Tomorrow…

Cassandra should never have gone out alone at night, not on the streets of the downtown district known to locals as the ‘Hood’. She was only 15, and there were always thugs and muggers prowling the streets after dark.

All she had in this world though was her grandmother, who desperately needed more pills for her heart condition.

After leaving the drug store, Cassandra felt like she was being watched. She heard footsteps from behind, but when she turned to look, there was no one. She only had a few blocks to go, so she started running.

Just before turning the corner onto her own street, two men jumped out from behind a dumpster and blocked her way. She glanced back and two more men seemed to have appeared from nowhere.

“Please, just take it,” she held out the five dollar bill that was her change from buying the medicine. “It’s all I have.”

The four men laughed as they closed in on her.

“Please,” she repeated, “I don’t want any trouble.”

“Oh, we don’t want any trouble,” one of the men snickered.

“We don’t want your money either,” another said, and with that the four men rushed in and grabbed her. They picked up Cassandra, and carried her back the way she had come.

They hissed at her to stay quiet, but one of them had his hand firmly over her mouth anyway. Soon after turning down a dark alleyway, they entered an abandoned garage.

Tears were already streaking her face as they threw her down onto a large piece of cardboard on the cement floor.

“Please,” she whispered, “please, my grandma needs medicine. Please let me go.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” the apparent leader said as he stood over her. “We’ll go and take care of your grandma. But first, we’re just gonna have a little party.”

They all laughed again.

“A party?” a voice said from just outside the garage. “Now, why was I not invited?”

The four thugs and Cassandra all looked as a young man entered from the alley. He was oddly dressed in green denim jeans and a green long-sleeved shirt.

“Who the f*ck are you?” the leader barked.

“Billy Crimson’s the name,” he said.

“Well, get the f*ck outta here!” the leader said as he pulled a .38 special from the back of his pants. “This here’s our neighborhood!”

“I have discovered that neighbors are wherever you find them,” Billy replied.

Before any of the thugs could mentally process his statement, Billy burst forward, instantly closing his fingers around the barrel of the gun and redirecting it back toward the leader’s gut. The gun went off and the leader’s eyes went wide with surprise.

With very little effort, Billy pried the gun from the bleeding leader’s hand, dumped the remaining bullets out, and tossed the gun through a broken window pane and into a shrubbery. The leader collapsed onto the cement.

Meanwhile, two of the remaining thugs drew switchblades, while the third restrained Cassandra.

One of the knife attackers raised his blade over his head and swung it downward. Billy blocked the swing with his left arm and delivered a lightning fast strike of his palm against the attacker’s nose, completely crushing it. The attacker flew backward into a wall and then slumped to the floor.

The other knife-man was already charging toward Billy while making a straight thrust with his blade. Billy seized the man’s wrist and used his momentum to swing him forward, while twisting his arm so that his elbow became hyper-extended and locked. A swift chop against the man’s elbow broke it with a loud crunch, causing him to immediately fall to the floor where he vomited and blacked out from the pain.

The last thug had abandoned Cassandra and bolted for the door.

Billy stepped out into the alleyway and called after him, “What about the party?”

Billy then picked up a broken piece of brick and threw it after the fleeing brute. The brick hit him squarely in the back of the head, and the man fell face-first into the gravelly asphalt where he lay still.

Cassandra had already appeared in the doorway by the time Billy turned around.

“Why did you save me?” she asked.

“I hope someone would stand up for me if I was under attack,” he answered.

“Thank you,” she smiled.

“Will you let me walk you home?” Billy asked.

She nodded, and after checking that she still had her grandmother’s pills, followed Billy back onto the street.

They walked silently for awhile, but soon Cassandra could no longer contain her curiosity.

“I’m Cassandra,” she began, “Cassandra Jackson.”

He smiled.

“Are you from around here?” she asked.

“No.”

“What did you mean when you said neighbors are where you find them?” she asked.

“We are to love and protect anyone we find along our path,” he answered, “and so where we were born, or where we lay our heads to rest, matters not.”

She marveled at his words and wondered aloud, “Are you a Christian?”

After a moment he answered, “I am.”

‘Me too,” she said.

They reached her doorstep and she drew out a key from her pocket. They looked at each other in silence for a few moments more.

“Go to your grandmother,” he said as he took a step backward and motioned toward the door with his hand.

“Thank you again,” she said after a deep breath. “I wish there were more people like you in this world, Billy Crimson.”

“There are,” he answered, “yet most of them still slumber.”

Cassandra turned and looked in the direction of a rustling noise down the street. When she turned back toward Billy, he was gone.