The air was crisp and a chilled wind wound its way through the spires that emerged from the depths that were the city. Way up here, it is quiet and peaceful; an almost convincing facade. He liked to come here, to the top of one of the many sky-scrappers in a vain attempt to escape the cesspool that inevitably drew him back into its clutches. Even late on a cold winter's night, he could hear the cacophonous horns of the multitudes who vainly fought each other to race to their respective destinations.
Cutting through the symphony of the streets like the shrill wail of speaker feedback, a scream brought his thoughts back from their philosophical ponderings. Time to get back to work, he thought, there is no rest for the weary.
Cat-like, he sprung from his lofty perch and rapidly made his way to the source of the cries. Years of practice and the gymnastic lessons that were well worth every penny of the $50 made it easy for him to travel along the many window sills, power wires, and fire escapes, so that he quickly found himself out of sight, but still able to survey the scene.
A couple of young punks mugging an old lady for her social security check; a lot of risk for such little gain. These kids are getting dumber and dumber. At least I won't have to do anything special, they will probably get scared and take off when I show up. See how they are nervously looking around? What are you looking for guys? Nothing in this alley but you and the old lady. Right?
Dropping two stories is just like riding a bike, if you fall off, you just have to get up and try again, and he had no trouble silently landing right behind the tall lanky one. When he was finally noticed, the mugger let out a scream in utter terror.
His pasty white face that stood out in stark contrast to his black beret and black costume was well known in the city that was his home, and the criminals cower when his name is mentioned.
He was known simply as...The Mime.
The tall mugger took off running, but the one with the cheesy mustache decided to be stupid. The mugger flicked out a switch blade that glittered in the dim glow of the few bug zappers that were still running, and waved it around like a conductor.
He mirrored the mugger's dance perfectly, and he knew that the mugger wouldn't be able to last very long. He had chosen (or had he had been chosen, he didn't know anymore) his alter ego well. There was not a person on the planet in whom the sight of a mime didn't strike a primeval chord of fear.
As he predicted, a few minutes of The Mirror was enough to cause the mugger to crack and run off into the night.
The woman appeared hurt, so he didn't chase the muggers, hopefully scaring them would keep them out of trouble. At least for a little while. He quickly examined her and found that she was just a bit shaken. Without saying a word, he helped her to the relative safety of the lighted street, and turned her over to a passing cop. Then he disappeared into the night.
He returned to his lofty perch and contemplated what kept him here, why did he dress up in a spandex costume and fight crime? Was it because his parents were murdered in an alley like that one? Was it out of a need to fight evil? Or was it an excuse to dress up in spandex without being ridiculed?
A gunshot brought him back to reality this time (although he wasn't sure what was real anymore). Oh well, he thought, no rest for the weary.