Note: I am not the author of this fic. I am just posting it as a favor to my 
friend. Please send any feedback to tuxedokamen@thekeyboard.com . Thank you. 
^_^

Worth
by John T. Davis

Chapter 1

     It was night, and it was dark.  The alleys and streets of the city 
seemed dead, the dull light of the street lamps spread an erie glow through 
the Tokyo night.  They gave the illusion of activity--and safety.  This 
illusion kept the mind of the woman calm as she carried her small child 
towards the residential district.  She couldn’t think of any reason to be 
nervous, and probably wouldn’t have shown it if she was for the benifit of 
the youth in her ams.  As she arrived at the alley that comprised the rest of 
their journey to their apartment building, the youth stirred.  She smiled 
down at him and lowed him to the ground, allowing him to walk the rest of the 
way home.  Best to keep him sleepy, she thought.. They entered the still 
darkness of the passage hand in hand, jovial thoughts of home and sleep on 
their minds.  They continued to walk through the corridor, unaware of the 
eyes upon them.

     “Hold up, lady,” a gruff voice called from the darkness.  The child 
glanced in its direction curiously, and remained perfectly still.  His 
mother, finally sensing danger, moved herself between her son and the source 
of the sound, aprehension and fear slowly claiming her thoughts.  A short, 
burly figure moved forward just enough for his outline to be visible.  He 
deftly kept his face hidden from sight.  The woman felt her blood go cold as 
she noticed the object in his outstretched hand -- a silenced, massive 
handgun.  “Put that nice pearl necklace of yours in your purse and drop it on 
the ground.”

     The woman, upon realizing that her life was now in the hands of the man 
in the shadows, realized her best course of action was to comply.  As the 
shakily undid the clasp on her necklace and slipped into her purse, she 
called pleadingly, “Please don’t hurt my son.  Please.”

     “If you do as I ask, you have nothing to worry about.”   He audibly 
snickered as the bag hit the floor.  “Good.  Now, kick it over here.  Make 
sure to hit it hard enough.  I don’t want to have to move to get it,” he 
pulled the hammer back on his gun, and the two clicks denoting a 
double-action could be heard echoing through the alley, “and neithe do you.” 
 With this edict in mind, the now visibly tembling woman kicked the purse 
toward her attacker with all her might, and it stopped right in front of him. 
 Her son had by now deduced what was happening, and remaind silent.  This was 
not because he had realized it would be safter, but as his eyes gave away, he 
was paralyzed with pure and unyielding terror.  The man bent at the knees and 
grasped the handle.  “Thanks, lady, its been a real pleasure.”  The woman 
sensed that he was about to make his escape, and began to cautously feel joy 
as she realized she and her son were going to survive.  At that instant, with 
the man still facing them his weapon only partially lowered, one of the dull 
lights that stood at the entrance to the alley died, but not before flashing 
at its highest intensity, giving the woman and her son two seconds to 
unwillingly burn the monster’s face into their memories.  It would be one 
they would never forget, not just for what its wearer had done to them but 
also for the distinct and deep scar that ran from his left temple to his 
jawline.  Combinded with his short, jagged hair, burning black eyes, and full 
lips, it created an unforgettable portrait.  As the two seconds ended and he 
light faded, the man quickly raised his weapon back up, level with his 
victims.  “Well, now this isn’t going to be good for you.  See, now you know 
what I look like and might want to turn me in later.  I just can’t have 
that.”  The mother made a desperate attempt to plead with him but he ignored 
her and tightened his thumb around the trigger.  He began to squeeze. 

     Suddenly, the robber let out a gruff scream and fell into the light.  
His hand no longer held a weapon, but was instead soaked in blood oozing from 
a deep, narrow cut on his palm.  Mother and son were both too confused and 
frightened to attempt an escape, and could do nothing but tightly cling to 
each other’s hand.  A lamp showed the man’s weapon to be speared to the wall 
of the narrow alley by something that was a dark green or black, with 
something red on the end not in the wall.  The man recovered his composure 
and started to reach for his gun -- and stopped dead.  His eyes caught a 
partially hidden figure facing him from the other end of the alley.  The 
lamplight gave very little detail away to the nervous oberver, until the 
mystery man stepped forward.  He was tall, probably around six feet.  His 
clothing looked black, though it was not possible to see much of what he was 
wearing, for he held a cape around his entire body, allowng nothing to show 
but a small v-shapped portion of his upper chest.  What was visible seemed to 
be a shirt from a tuxedo, complete with bowtie.  As absurd as this seemed, 
the robber was not amused.  he continued to move his eyes up and hit the 
man’s face.  His hair was black and sat neatly on his head.  This was his 
most benign feature.  His eyes were hidden by a white, sharply angled mask, 
which in the dark seemed quite forboding and uninviting.  His face was for 
the most part calm and would have looked to the passing observer emotionless. 
 But the robber, studying the one who chose to stand against him, recognized 
supressed anger and rage.  Then his deep, nearly monotone, threating voice 
rang out.  “Drop the purse and run. Now.”  Momentarily taken by fear of this 
man with such a threatening voice, the attacker did as instructed.  Then, he 
thought about the situation.  What am I doing?  I’m letting myself be pushed 
around by some fool in a tuxedo, cape, and top hat.  Mr. Hero is about to 
wish he wasn’t so brave.  With all the speed he could muster, the man pulled 
the gun from the wall with his good arm and started to raise it to the 
newcomer.  Instantly, the caped man’s facial composure disolved, and was 
repaced by a true expression of pure rage.  He bent his knees and lunged 
forward.  His movement was like that of a crazed olympic sprinter.  He pined 
the robber to the wall.and tooked the weapon in a white gloved hand.  He 
clutched its handle and closed his fist around the long barrel.  With what 
seemed like very little effort, he bent it up and pointed back towards the 
hammer.  After this feat was over, he dropped it to the ground.  “ I said go.”

     Completely terrified, the man took off down the alley and was gone.  The 
masked man turned to the mother and son, who had remained stationary during 
the whole event.  The woman knelt to embrace her child, simultaniously filled 
with the joy not having been killed and the aprehension associated with the 
strength and character of her apparent savior.  The man stepped into the full 
light, and seeing the woman’s concern, underwent a change.  He seemed to 
relax, the anger like look completely disapeared from his face, and he took 
on an inviting and benign disposition. he advanced toward the woman and knelt 
in front of her so that their faces were level.  “Are you alright?”  His 
voice was completely different now.  Gone was the sternness and the rage.  It 
was replaced by a soft, soothing sound that seemed to exude benign 
intentions.  She meekly said that they were.  He continued, “Are you far from 
home?”  She said no and pointed towards the apartment building at the end of 
the alley.  “I’ll walk with you.”  Having said that, he took both their 
hands and gently pulled them up, walking between them towards their 
residence.  As they neared the door to the lobby of the mid-rise, he spoke 
once more, “Its not safe to be out at night.  Especially alone,” he handed 
her the purse the robber had dropped, “Next time, promise me you’ll have 
sone escort you.”  She nodded a yes as she and her son neared the door.  Her 
mind was just starting to clear and she realized she hadn’t thanked him.  She 
turned to do so, but there was no one there.  Before she could think abuot 
what had happened, her son spoke softly.

     “Who was that man, mommy?”

     “I don’t know, dear, but he saved or lives, so we must always remember 
him.  He is someone very special--a hero--our hero.”

     Above them, the masked figure watched them enter  the lobby and saw them 
approach the desk.  The man working there’s face immediately filled with 
shock and concern, and he moved for the phone.  He let a satisfied smile 
cross his youthful, yet thoughtful face.  They’ll be safe now.  He receeded 
into the darkness, and was gone.


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