What You See…
I ran up the stairs as fast as my slippers allowed. I heard them following me, their booted feet making them sound like a herd of elephants. So far so good.
When I reached the metal door I pushed through it, onto the roof and glanced around before jumping on the ledge and assuming my position. On pointe and with my hands on my waist, I hoped I managed to pull off a convincing combination of attitude and vulnerability.
Less than a minute later they burst through the door too—the six skinheads who’d tried to corner me downstairs. The two men in front stopped running so abruptly the other four crashed into their backs, making them stumble and for a moment I thought they’d crash into me and end this stand-off in quite a different manner than the one I had in mind.
“What the fuck is that fairy doing?”
I almost smiled. I’d no idea why they thought calling me a fairy would hurt me. But I kept the expression on my face stern as I stared down at them.
These men had been tormenting the LGBTQ community for several months now. They’d beaten people up, even killed some. Their reign of terror was so severe and so effective nobody had the nerve to stand up to them or report them to the authorities. That’s where I came in.
“He must be tired of living,” one of the scumbags muttered, before laughing out loud. “He’s making this easy for us. I’m almost sorry it will only take a small push. It’s so much more fun when they put up a fight.”
“Let’s get this done and over with,” the man I’d identified as their leader said. They lined up and formed a half circle before slowly moving towards me.
I allowed the grin to spread across my face then; they couldn’t have made this easier for me if they’d tried. I waited until they were about two metres away from me before jumping down, landing on my toes again.
Not paying their collective gasp any heed, I pushed off with one foot into a pirouette, spinning fast on my toes. I lifted my other leg and aimed and kicked as I passed each of those bastards. The first two had no idea what hit them when my foot punched their noses and they fell back, their heads bouncing against the concrete. The sixth man had more time and tried to prepare for the onslaught he expected, lifting his hands to catch my foot and protect his face, so I kicked lower, straight into his crotch.
As soon as that last man was down, I jumped over their bodies, grabbed the camera I had hidden earlier, and walked through the metal door, making sure to lock it behind me. I retrieved my holdall and changed out of the tutu and slippers into my uniform. Cowards that they were, they would never have attacked me if they’d seen me in my usual gear. Turning on the camera I checked the recording before pulling my phone from the bag and making a call.
“It’s done. I have what we need. They’re all yours now.” A few floors below me a door opened.
Life as an undercover policeman sure had its interesting moments.
This week’s picture was suggested by Lila Leigh Hunter. For stories by her and others please check out the Monday Flash Fics Group on Facebook.