April 13th, 11:49 pm
Three nights ago, Matt's world was turned inside out. There were no more lights or colors for him. Instead, life was edges, vibrations, sounds, and smells. The combination produced a world of sensory input beyond normal, but it had a few obvious drawbacks. After all, what good was super sensitive hearing if it meant you heard every argument in the apartment complex, or every slammed door, or every moment of physical abuse?
Some things could keep any man up at night; worrying about the future, worrying about money or status, worrying about a career. Matt was now kept up worrying about Mrs. Dawson. Her husband had a new habit of coming home drunk and beating her before bed. It was exhausting and soul searing to listen to a woman sob herself to sleep every night. It was time to put an end to her suffering.
Matt's perch in the roof of the apartment complex gave him a good aerial view with his radar sense. Likewise, it enables him to stalk his target without being seen. The SBS advocated for unexpected lines of attack and for decisive endings to all skirmishes. If his plan went well, there wouldn't be any more decisive ending than tonight.
Larry Dawson pulled himself out of his old rattle trap rust bucket. He grunted in anger. His job was hell, his car was shite, and his wife was an incompetent shrew. He'd crawled into the bottle to escape, only to find out that the bottle just magnified his problems. If he could just have one thing go right, it would be enough.
Larry hauled himself up the stairs to apartment number sixteen. Before he even got to the door, he was barking orders at the idiot he married.
"Margie! Dinner better be on the table and it had better be hot or you know what's for dessert!"
He reached into his pants for the house key, then gasped in surprise as a masked man in black dropped from the roof and planted a kick in his sternum. Larry overbalanced and fell backwards down the stairs, yelling as he tumbled. A sick crack made his vision go grey.
Aww shit my arm's broke!
He was a big man, but the guy who hit him made Larry feel like a small, weak kid again. Before he could push himself up, the man in black was on him, slamming a fist into his face.
"You listen and you listen well. I don't allow men to beat their wives. If you hit her again, I'll know, and you'll have a worse day than just falling down the stairs, do you understand?"
Larry could only nod. Once he confirmed that he understood, the man was gone as if he'd never been there. Who the hell was that?
Matt couldn't repress his smile as he slipped back into his bedroom. The open window was the perfect way in and out to do some clandestine vigilante work. He changed and hid his black tactical outfit, oblivious to his bruised knuckles with the skin split. Instead, he drifted off into one of the best night's sleep he'd ever had.