Keruv: Midnight Angel by MJ Muñoz
Alana Morales was tired.
Times were hard, and she counted herself lucky to have a job, but it had been a long week
and a longer day.
Thankfully, it was almost over.
She wasn't skittish by nature, but a customer from earlier had made her feel uncomfortable.
Besides, people talked.
As a waitress, she only picked up snatches of conversations, but people seemed to be
talking about distinct incidents of attacks, muggings, and disappearances.
She just wanted to be home.
She completed her tasks efficiently and said goodnight to her boss.
He paid her, and she left.
As she walked her usual route, Alana did the math in her head.
She was still just over-broke.
She had to get herself in a better.
The street was gated off.
In the dark, she hadn't seen the signs warning about the construction ahead.
She had taken the street this morning.
Someone laughed behind her.
It was restrained, but she heard it.
She didn't want to look lost.
If you look like a target, you are a target.
Fine.
Alana turned to the right and did her best not to run, as she picked her way across unfamiliar
side streets to get back on route home.
She stole a backward glance and barely spotted two men through the shadows.
She got sloppy and made a bad turn.
It was an alley.
She picked up the pace, hoping for an open door or a kind stranger.
Nothing but a dead end.
Alana Morales turned and saw the two men blocking her way.
The shorter man with the knife was Mexican.
He could have been her cousin.
The taller white man leered down at her.
Her gut twisted, and she said a silent prayer.
Solo dame eso.
The Mexican pointed to her purse with his knife.
Alana shrank back.
Dice lo que haces.
We just want the money, honey.
The white man grinned.
Te pagan esta noche.
Now you pay us.
Alana stepped forward and swung her bag wildly.
Kansas lunged forward and slapped Alana.
She went down hard.
Cachille, grab the cash.
I'll see if Miss Feisty has any other goods I'll like.
Kansas dragged Alana off.
Cash in his pockets, Cachille lit up a cigarette while he waited for Kansas.
This was shaping up to be a good night after all.
Walk away while you still can.
The two men turned, and in a blinding flash, the black-clad angel of vengeance known as
Kirov stood before them.
Knife her!
Kirov dashed forward, dodging a blind slash and grabbing the knife hand.
She bellowed as she drove the returned man back.
He struggled to keep his feet.
Gunshots rang out.
By the time Kansas was spent, Kirov was in perfect position.
With a blazing flash and two slashes, the gunman slumped against the dumpster.
Kirov touched the tip of her flaming sword to the pistol and it burned red hot, searing
to his hand.
Keruvv saw Alana home and vanished into the night.