Vigilante is co-written by two separate authors: Alexis and Alice (ChemistryOfLife)
Throughout the story, Alexis and I will occasionally leave authors notes at the end of chapters. This will be our only time to ask you to consider following and reviewing as you read or following ChemistryOfLife if you are eager for more updates. There are a total of 71 chapters for Vigilante already prewritten on a separate document, and I anticipate posting every other day. If I forget, just shoot me a message!
Thank you to those who voted on our Twitter, AliceAndAlexis, to decide what story of ours would be published next.
The two authors went back and forth in writing a new chapter in their designated character's perspective. Alice wrote in the point of view of Pandora Grant and Alexis from the point of view of Kamau Kenyatta. Special thanks to Myst Marshall for being an extra pair of eyes, editing all the stupid mistakes she caught that Alexis and I made!
Aside from the basic facts about the characters and plot determined by the coauthors at the beginning of the story, nothing was planned, mapped, or laid out in explicit detail ahead of time.
This is the story that the characters gave us to tell.
"Good morning, Officer Kenyatta~."
The man smiled towards the secretary that had greeted him and responded in kind, "Good morning, Miss Grant." It wasn't often, especially in a place as dense as San Francisco with an equally dense police department, that anyone knew anybody in passing. Everyone was always pretty busy, too busy for water-cooler chatter certainly.
But, Miss Grant was the first face anybody generally saw in the morning. It made sense for most of the officers, at least during her hours, to know who she was.
It was more surprising that she managed to keep everyone else straight.
The other officers insisted that it was just him, because he was supposedly attractive, but Kenyatta would rather think the secretary just cared about everyone as individuals.
After clocking in, the man headed for the locker room to get ready for patrol, where a few of his colleagues were doing the same. Upon his arrival, one of them greeted him with an amicable grin. "'Eyy, look who's here!"
"Sup, Mau," another said, reaching out a fist for a bro-handshake, which Mau happily reciprocated. It wasn't often you had coworkers you could tolerate, especially in a profession like policing, he considered himself lucky in that regard, that at least there were a few people he could call his friends.
"Good morning, Officer Kenyatta~," came a mocking falsetto as another officer entered the room, drawing the guys' attentions. Mau rolled his eyes while the others snickered.
"Hi, Scottie," he said, unamused.
"Hi, Kamau," Scottie responded, mocking Mau's tone this time as he turned to open his own locker. "Or should I say, Officer Chick-Magnet?"
"Go for it, Officer Wormtail."
The other cops ooh'ed at that, in the way guys tended to do when somebody was trying to start shit.
The reason that was a good comeback was because Scott's last name happened to be Pettigrew. Day one all the Harry Potter fans in the entire department started calling him Wormtail, and he hated it.
It was good burn fuel.
"Alright, asshole," Scott said, shaking his head and backing off. "You win this round."
"I believe it's pronounced every round," one of the others teased, earning himself an upright middle finger from Scottie.
"I hate all of you," Scott declared.
"You love us."
Mau couldn't help but smile and shake his head, shutting his locker and turning away from the others. "I'm going to go do my job," he said pointedly. "Goodbye."
The boys started to snicker again, and they all joined in to mock him with, "Bye, Officer Kenyatta~!"
His sigh only made them laugh harder.
It was always a gamble heading out onto the beat every day, especially in a place like San Francisco. With one of the highest crime rates in the entire US here, the SFPD had its work cut out for it. It tended to be more property crime than anything, but that didn't give it any less propensity to be dangerous.
Kamau was a shameless advocate for there being more two-man units around, but as ever the constant excuse was cost.
He didn't think anything was worth more than a person's life, especially if it was given in the line of duty and could've been saved if another officer was around, but he was just a beat cop, what did he know.
There were a few good things about going it alone, sure; he could do what he wanted, when he wanted, as long as he was still out on patrol. He didn't have to leave the radio or lunch to a vote.
But those luxuries seemed like things he was willing to give up if it meant having someone to watch his back.
But for now, he supposed, he just had to keep his head on a swivel and watch his own back. It wasn't ideal, but a cop was rarely in a situation that could be defined as ideal. It was just something he'd gotten used to over the years.
And he wasn't dead yet.
Because it was definitely yet. Like hell doing a job like this wasn't going to be the death of him. Especially these days when it seemed like people vilified the police more than criminals themselves.
….His mother didn't like that he believed that, but he'd stopped saying it in front of her so it was fine.
Something else he said a lot was that people had way too little to do with themselves in the morning. Who commits a crime before the sun is even all the way up?
Apparently, the person Mau's radio was chattering about.
Since it was close by, Officer Kenyatta picked up the radio and took the call, steering his cruiser in the direction of the crime in progress. He didn't think people really did the whole steal-a-purse-from-an-old-lady thing anymore, but alas, this was San Francisco.
Theft and vandalism were king.
So much so that it had its own Robin Hood, literally robbing from the rich and presumably giving to the poor. Truth be told there were plenty of cops that secretly supported the vigilante, Kamau included, but it wasn't their job to pick and choose which crimes to condemn.
Theft was theft, as this older woman found out the hard way, mugged randomly on the street. If Kamau had to chase down this thief, then he was going to have to chase down all of them.
That was the law, and it his duty to uphold it; whether he agreed with it or not.