Archive-name: Violent/darkness.txt
Archive-title: Darkness of Knight


(This isn't my usual fare, but I had to put this somewhere...)
This is something I just wanted to write.  It's based loosely on the town 
I'm going to college in.  As such, anybody who has attended it will get the 
drift.  This isn't really a sex story, it's more on the lines of a graphic 
thriller.  You've been warned.
Disclaimer : This is a fictional story.  Any similarity with the characters,
places or events with real people or occurrences is purely coincidental.  
Trust me.

			   Darkness of Knight

Nighttime, I've always liked it.  It sounds so fucking cliche but it's true.
I mean, it's not bright, nobody's around to bug 'ya.  It's just out 
there.  I'm not a darksider, ya know.  It's just that I like the night.
But I never knew how powerful the night was.  Yeah, there's the myths about 
vampires and werewolves.  But who believes it?  I think I know now.

This whole thing is too much to explain.  But it's worth a shot.  The drama 
department got this brilliant idea to put on a live-action fantasy game, 
and put it on stage as a show.  Sell tickets, make it a production.  The 
kicker was that the audience would make up the cast.

I got involved when they had the idea to get the local gamers to fill 
everything from bit parts to some of the major bad-guy roles.  Rachel, my 
part-time GM and full time girlfriend, dragged me into this thing.  I 
didn't put up a fight, mind you.

They asked my experience with melee weapons, and I told them I had a little.
I think I impressed 'em when I knocked the stunt-fighting coordinator 
off his feet with a pugel stick.  They cast me for two parts, one was a bit 
'guard' part, and the other was a 'feral' part.  I was to play a cat-like 
thing.

This all suited me fine, but my knowledge of mock-combat was limited to 
some vicious games of 'tag' and the time Rachel threatened to bind my 
wrists and lash me with her belt.  (That's another story, though.)  So they 
gave us all a lesson in 'stage combat' and a crash course in 'how to die 
well' in a performance.

We had a week left to learn our parts.  This whole play was supposed to be 
improvised totally.  The production was starting to take up more of my free 
time, so I moved all my practice sessions to the night.  "The park has some 
quiet spots." I rationalized.  "No problems."

A few days left until opening performance.  We spent a majority of the 
evening going over the production, and performing a 'dry run'.  It all 
turned out well.  I had gotten home around 1 AM.  Nothing on the answering 
machine, nothing in the mail, nothing for homework, for a change.  And I 
was wired.

It was too late to get any beer, and the bars closed in an hour.  I could 
probably get full ass drunk, but it wasn't worth it.  So I figured a little 
more practice couldn't hurt.

I changed clothing slowly, deliberately.  I wanted to relax before bruising 
my kneecaps again.  A weird assortment of clothing, really.  Black spandex 
pants, with spandex shorts over it, black Reeboks, black t-shirt, and my 
black ninja-gi.  Rachel got it for me as a joke, because all my characters 
wore black clothing.

I completed the look with a black bandanna that I wrapped.  It was one of 
those nights that I wanted to submerge myself into a motif.  The props 
department let me take the cat-like mask before I left, 'told them I needed 
to get used to it.  They loaned it to me for the weekend.  I strapped a 
knife on my back, grabbed my bo-staff and slipped out the door holding the 
mask.

The mask was fashioned like a cat's face, to an extent.  It's made of soft 
latex rubber, had a short muzzle, and had whiskers from it.  It left my 
mouth open to talk and the like.  It was black, with a light gray around 
the eyes.  I kinda liked it, it was neat.

On my way out, I heard a car pull next to the house.  It sounded like 
Pete's Chevy, but I didn't want to deal with his drunk friends.  I slipped 
out the back door.

The wind howled down the corridors of streets, which seemed to collect in 
the folds of my cloak.  The ends whipped up at a furious pace, making the 
effect more startling.  Bells went off ahead from the rail-road crossing.  
"No." I said aloud, answering my subconscious urge to dash across before 
the train got here.  "It'll catch the cloak."

I snickered at the thought of talking to myself.  The train rolled on, 
making the 'clikitty-clack' sound from the rails.  The caboose flew by, and 
I was across the tracks before the guard rail was up.  I passed by a house 
with the lights on, there were two people watching TV, cuddling.  I didn't 
want to make a scene, so I kept walking.

Another mile walk and I was in a small lot that bordered the lake.  Nobody 
usually drove out this far, and I could see them coming if they did.  The 
wind died down, but it still threw my cloak outwards.  I put the mask on, 
under the bandanna.  The eye holes restricted my vision a bit, but I could 
see most everything around me.

Mist came out of the nose holes, and I could feel the water from my own 
breath dripping from the inside of the mask.  I didn't let it bother me too 
much.  I started swinging the staff.  All of time became a blur, I was 
concentrating on not getting caught up in the cloak.  The night became 
endless.

I started to walk back when I saw headlights swing towards where I was.  I 
dove into a small area filled with trees.  Thoughts raced through my mind.  
Pete looking for me?  Cops on the prowl?  That scared me.  I'd always been 
paranoid of cops since a Chicago cop beat the crap outta me for no reason 
at a free concert.  I raised the hood on the cloak and waited.  Part in 
fear, part in curiosity.

The car screeched to a halt thirty feet in front of me.  No rack on top, so 
it wasn't a cop.  The car looked more streamlined than a Chevy, so I waited.
The passenger door opened, and a woman stepped out.  Not the most 
flattering of women, but what she was wearing... or rather what she wasn't.
Pants that looked painted on, a loose sweatshirt with sorority letters on 
it.  She looked very pretty, and she looked very drunk.

The driver door opened.  A man, kinda on the tall side, stepped out.  He 
looked like a weight lifter, and he flaunted it.  Tank top, sweat pants, 
sneakers.  It was all he seemed to need.  His walk had power, dominance.  I 
couldn't see his face too well, but what I could see was a smile.  No, a 
sadistic grin.

He rounded to her side.  "Ok, baby.  It's time."  His voice was cool, deep, 
and dominating.

"Time for what?"  She was still a bit drunk.

He placed a hand on her breast.  "You know." He said.  "I didn't buy you 
those drinks for nothing."

She pushed his hand away.  "No..." Her voice a bit steadier.  "Can't you 
just take me home?"

He grabbed her hand, and she let out a yelp of pain.  "No, I can't." He 
said through clenched teeth.  "Are you gonna put out or do I have to get 
nasty with you?"  She started to struggle, and he backhanded her hard.  "I 
told you once."  He started to undo her pants.

Aww shit.  I thought.  My mind began to race.  What can I do?  I could 
leave her here, but I would never forgive myself.  Shit.  I looked at the 
weapon in my hand, my staff.  Cherrywood.  Wouldn't stand up to one hit 
against him.  Then I remembered the knife.  I got down low and crawled 
around the edge of the circle.

"Stop that!" she was yelling.  "HELP!  Somebody help!"

He smacked her again, this time hard enough to knock her onto the car hood.
He pinned her neck down, bending her at the stomach.  "Naughty girl." He 
said, mocking her.  "Now I have to do it the hard way."  He pulled her 
pants down to her knees.  He reached into his sweats, and grabbed his cock.
It was partially erect, and getting stiffer.  He draped his balls over the 
waistband, and stroked himself with his left hand.  "Relax, you'll probably 
like this."

By this time, I had quietly crawled around behind him.  I looked across, 
and saw her pussy.  His fingers has spread it apart, and he had his penis 
just on the lips.  The entire shaft seemed to look purple in the night.  I 
pulled my knife out slowly.

She screamed as he rammed his cock into her.  "God!  Help!  Please!" She 
was crying.

"Shut up bitch!" He yelled.  "Nobody can hear you, you cunt!"  He pulled 
back and rammed her again, shaking the entire car with his thrust.  I stood 
up, holding the knife near my chest.  He was slamming hard against her, and 
her cries were those of pain.  It seemed an eternity to cross the open area,
but he didn't seem to hear me.  He was building to a fast orgasm when I 
was ten feet away.

"Here it comes, baby!" He said.  His thrusting was increasing.  "Oh yes!"

I jumped at him, burying the knife into his lungs.  Both of his arms 
convulsed in shock, releasing her.  Blood sprayed from the open wound, 
covering my pants and the sleeves of the jacket.  I slashed down, catching 
him in the kidneys.  The air smelled thick with blood.  Adrenaline was 
controlling my actions more than rational thought.  The knife cut again, 
slicing the back of his leg.  He let loose a howl of pain, and spun wildly.
We made eye contact.  His eyes opened wide, looking at me.

"What the fuck are you?" he shouted, his voice quivered.

"Vengeance."  I smacked him across the face with the pommel of the knife.  
He crumpled to the ground, dazed.  He was losing blood fast.  I looked at 
her, and she was pulling her jeans up quickly.   I hit the window with the 
staff, shattering it.  I grabbed her purse, then I grabbed her arm.

"Come on!"  Her eyes opened wide, but she didn't hesitate.  We ran down the 
road, and I dragged her into a cluster of trees.  Behind us we heard the 
other man screaming at us, but I didn't stop.  I pulled her under a tree 
with me.  I undid the clasp, and put my cloak around her.

"Shhh..." I whispered.  "Please!  Don't say a word!" I put my hand over her 
mouth.  "He'll be gone soon... Shhh..."  She grabbed me tightly, hugging me 
around the stomach.  I heard his car start up, and he stopped in front of 
the trees we were in.  I felt her body tighten when the door opened, but 
she didn't move.  The door closed and the car drove off.

After a minute, she put her head on my shoulder and began to cry.  I felt 
kinda strange, but happy.  I'm not used to being a hero.  She must have 
cried for close to thirty minutes.  I held her head, and consoled her.
Her tears stopped flowing, and she looked at me.  Her eyes grew wide when 
she saw my face.  The mask isn't even that good, but it's good enough.

"Feeling better?" I asked.  She nodded.  "I'd better see you home."  She 
nodded again, almost expecting me to maul her or something.  I stood up, 
and helped her to her feet.  I wiped off the blade on the ground.

"Where did you learn to do that?" She asked nervously.

I looked at the edge.  "My dad.  He'd take me deer hunting.  Sometimes the 
first shot doesn't really kill the deer, so you have to cut it's throat so 
it dies kinda humanely."  I sheathed it.  "Let's you save the head to mount 
it."

She nodded.  I held out my hand, and she took it.  We walked quietly for a 
while.  "My name's Jen." she said suddenly.  "The least you can do is tell 
me yours."

I opened my mouth to speak, but it dawned on me that I was guilty of 
attempted manslaughter.  "Umm... that's not a good idea luv." I said.

"You saved my life, and you won't tell me anything about yourself?" Jen 
said.  She reached for the mask, but I gently pushed her hand away.

"Jen, I don't know if your sober enough to comprehend how much trouble I'm 
in right now." I said.  "I just attacked a man..."

"...who was raping me." She said.  "I'm sober enough to know that."

I nodded.  "That may be.  But I put a few slices in him and broke the 
window to his car.  That's about thirty to forty years right there."  We 
kept walking.  Eventually I quietly spoke up.  "If you need a name to call 
me use 'Vincent.'"  I smiled at my own joke.

"Ok, Vincent." She said.  "What can I do for you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You saved me, and your in a lot of trouble.  What can I do?"

I thought a moment.  "I don't know."  We kept walking.  The trip was quiet 
until we reached her house.  We were outside her house in a darker alleyway 
when I stopped her.  "You can do me a favor."

"What?" Jen's smile was false, probably the alcohol.

"If anybody asks, you never saw me.  You don't know who, or what, I am.  
Can you do that?"

She smiled.  With one hand, she reached behind my head and pulled me close 
to her.  Our kiss was filled with passion, but it was tainted.  She put her 
tongue into my mouth, and we explored each other.

She let the kiss go.  Her hand traveled down my body, and stroked my groin 
through the spandex.  "Yeah.  I can."  She kissed me again, using her hands 
to massage my penis.

I broke off the kissing.  "Are you sure you want to do this Jen?"  He nod 
was the only answer she would give.  One hand reached inside my pants and 
she stroked me gently.  I kissed her again, and she kept her motion.

She lowered my pants just enough to let my penis free.  She got onto her 
knees, and looked up at me.  "If I can't see your face, then I'm going to 
see your head."  She smiled as she lowered her mouth level to my crotch.  
Her t pulled me closer to her.  Her tongue swirling around my cockhead, and 
her mouth sucking away.  I was moaning softly when she reached one hand 
around and ran her fingers down my ass.

I couldn't hold out.  She felt my body tense, and pulled away.  Her hands 
kept pumping me.  I came in spurts, on the sidewalk.  She got off her knees
, and kissed me again.  "Consider that my thank you, Vincent." She 
whispered.  She kissed me once more, a final, deep kiss.

We gently pulled away from each other.  "Take care of yourself, Jen.  I 
might not be around next time."  She turned to go back into the house as I 
jumped quickly into cover.  She turned around, but I was already gone.  She 
shrugged and went inside.

I made my way home quickly, dodging any open roads.  When I got back, it 
dawned on me that I was still wearing the cat mask.  I laughed to myself as 
I removed it.  It was the only thing not covered with blood, which made me 
think about the rest of my clothing.  I unlocked the back door and walked 
in.

Pete was crapped out on the couch.  That was good, 'causeI didn't want to 
answer questions.  Like why my hands were covered in blood.  Or why I was 
doing laundry at four in the morning.  Or why I was cleaning my hunting 
knife.

That was two weeks ago.  The newspaper played up the "cat vigilante", and 
is still running the story and it's offshoots.  The show didn't go over too 
well, the audience couldn't get into it.  I've seen Jen around campus, and 
I can't help but wonder if she'd like me if she knew who I was.  But I'm 
better off this way, at least Rachel would think so.
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