username: SilhouetteStation
kalon name: Alistair McKinnon
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prompt [700 word limit]:The town was asleep. Outside, a crescent moon hung in the sky. Streetlights blocked out any of the stars with their artificial orange glow. Inside the car, he was warm. Dressed in all black, leather gloves already snug around his hands. A bellaclava sat on his lap, waiting.
His phone buzzed, and he answered it.
"Coming your way now," a voice rasped. "Red shoes. Yellow beanie. Tragic combination, really. Can't miss him."
He grunted.
"Stole a woman's handbag while she was tending to her baby. Snatched it right off the stroller."
A soft growl escaped his throat.
"There aren't any cameras in the foyer," the voice continued. "It's a shabby apartment block, they never do."
Just as they finished speaking, a figure walked around the street corner matching the description. He watched as they headed towards one of the buildings, and took that cue to put the bellaclava on and pull up the hood on his jacket.
"I'm going in."
He exited the car, and stuck to the shadows as he prowled down the sidewalk. Across the road, up the steps, to the double doors. Silently he opened one, and slipped inside. It didn't look much better in here. Dull carpet, chipped paint, faint wet dog smell. But it was no excuse.
The target, oblivious, had ignored the elevator in favor of the stairs, thankfully. They'd only made it one step before he snuck up, grabbing the back of their sweatshirt. They made a choking sound as they stumbled backwards, and just as quick he had them in a headlock with a hand pressed tightly over their mouth. They struggled as he dragged them to a darker corner, away from anyone who might see.
"You've stolen something, haven't you?" He growled close to their ear; a soft, threatening sound that made them shake and let out a fearful whine. "A woman's handbag, yes?"
They couldn't answer, but they didn't need to. He could feel their pulse beating frantically against his body.
"Have you got it with you?"
They gestured as best they could to the backpack they were wearing. "Don't scream," he said before releasing one hand from them, shoving their head into the wall with the other. His free hand ripped the backpack from their shoulders so fiercely that one of the straps broke. He used his teeth to unzip it; nestled inside, the handbag. He removed it, tucking it inside of his jacket.
Their captive suddenly tried to wriggle free, but a swift jab to the ribs had them crumpling to the floor. "People like you make me sick," he spat as they let out a low groan. Crouching down, his fingers snaked around their throat. He leaned in closer. "Don't ever let me have to deal with you again," he whispered, "or I won't be so kind." His grip tightened, and they nodded frantically. Standing up, he gave them a hard kick for good measure, and left them curled up on the floor, whimpering.
Out the doors. Down the steps. Across the road. Back to the car. The call was still going. "Done," he said, which earned a low chuckle. "Fantastic. Drop it off, I'll deal with the return. After that, go home. That's your third one tonight. Get some rest."
He did as told, dropping the handbag in a letterbox, and driving home. He only had enough energy to get undressed, crawl into bed, and fall asleep.
Roughly six hours later, his alarm went off. Up he got, and began the weekday morning routine; breakfast, shower, tidy hair, get dressed into the usual formal wear. Take the other car to work. Hum along to the radio station.
He pulled into the car park just as one of the buses did the same. He couldn't help but smile at the kids making their way off, chatting and laughing to each other.
"Good morning, Mr. McKinnon!" one of them called, which was followed by more greetings.
"Good morning, my dears!" He replied, falling into step beside them. "Are we ready to do a lot of learning today?"
"Yes!" They all chorused together and he chuckled, following them past the garden and handprint mural into the primary school.
(699/700)
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extra [optional]:The school was quiet A few birds chirped near the outdoor lunch area. Teacher only day; just what he'd needed after a long night. Five 'disputes' settled. Five stolen items would be returned in the coming days.
He drained the last of his black coffee, letting out a heavy sigh before placing the empty cup by the sink. It was hard sometimes, juggling being a primary school principal by day and…whatever he was by night. A vigilante? A hero? He didn't know. He just knew that he was teaching people lessons in an 'alternative' way. Stifling a yawn, he was about to move when a voice rang out.
"Freeze, McKinnon!"He jumped and spun around, gripping the edge of the sink without thinking. He winced, quickly remembering his injured hand.
One of the teachers, Briar-Rose, stood there giggling with a mug in her hands. "You didn't think you'd get away with not washing your cup, did you?"
He let out a chuckle, running a hand through his hair in embarrassment. A few stray butterflies began stirring in his stomach. "Should have known you'd catch me."
"Would you expect anything less?" She asked, smiling as she brushed past him to get to the sink. He shifted to give her more room, and she rinsed out both of their dishes. "I
suppose I could let you off this time," she teased, standing back to look up at him. Her eyes studied his face, and his cheeks seemed to warm under her gaze.
"See anything interesting?"
"You're tired," she said, softly now. "I could tell in the staff meeting. You're usually a lot more upbeat about the Easter egg hunt."
"I am a little tired," he admitted. "But don't worry, I'm fine."
She studied him a moment longer. "You hurt your hand, too," she said. "I saw, when I scared you."
"You didn't
scare me," he protested, earning another giggle. "Just…startled me. And I, um…" he chuckled, trying to sound casual. "Accidentally shut my hand in the car door."
"Alistair!" She scolded. "You've got to be more careful."
"What can I say? I'm clumsy."
She laughed, and he let out a silent sigh of relief. She believed him. Good. Out of everyone he wanted to like him, it was her.
Maybe it was ironic, someone like him developing feelings for someone like her. She was a gentle soul; she could never hurt anybody. And here he was, going out after dark to do just that. He believed his intentions were good, but hated to think how she'd react if she knew. She'd called him a big softie once, saying she'd never met a nicer principal who loved the kids as much as he did. This was true - he did love them. Maybe deep down, he was trying to make the world safer for those he cared about most. And looking into her eyes, he knew she was one of them.
He couldn't give up what he did.
At least, not yet.
(499/500)
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the other kalon used in this story was my girl Briar-Rose!