Bull-Headed

The setting sun shone brightly through the windows of the fifth-floor apartment, bathing the interior in golden light. A chubby bulldog dozed on the couch, exhausted from a busy day of dozing on the couch. Around him, a young woman moved steadily, preparing for her night out. Ariadne hummed to herself, the smile on her lips evidence of the excitement she felt. She knew tonight was going to be a wonderful night. She took one long last look in the mirror, breathed deeply, and headed for the door.

“Keep the place safe, Taurus!” she called. It was her customary farewell. He was a great guard dog, as long as he didn’t have to wake up or get off the couch.

The building’s elevators were halfway down the hall from her apartment, but Ariadne took the stairs instead. Six flights later, she opened the door to the basement, kicking it where it always stuck. She passed the laundry room and the storage room before unlocking the furnace room door and slipping inside. Making her way to the back, she slid aside a stack of boxes and pulled up on the handle of an ancient access hatch in the floor. This access hatch was the only reason she lived in this building, and why she’d gone to the trouble of getting a copy of the key to the furnace room. The hatch led to a maze of tunnels, connecting both to the sewers and the subway system.

Ariadne ran through her mental checklist of supplies as she checked her bag once more. Flashlight? Check. Mask? Double check. (She always made sure she had a spare.) She also had binoculars, duct tape, rope, a set of lock picks, and some rags. She nodded to herself—prepared for anything she might run into—and dropped into the darkness below.

Over the past month, Ariadne had been tracking down the gang behind a string of violent muggings and attacks around the city. Police had noticed the uptick in crimes but hadn’t yet put the pieces together to realize a single group was responsible. Neither had Ariadne, at first, and it was doubtful that she would have if she had been constrained by the same rules as the police. She’d been working her way up the chain and was confident that she would finally locate the entire leadership of the gang tonight and put an end to the whole operation.

The twists and turns through the dark tunnels were no issue. She didn’t even need the flashlight anymore. She’d explored these tunnels enough that they were as familiar to her as the walk to the coffee shop. Ariadne finally stopped at the base of a ladder and checked her watch. The sun had been down long enough now that it would be properly dark outside. She pulled on her mask and climbed to the surface.

This tunnel had originally been used for storm water drainage, but new construction had changed the water run-off enough that it was nearly always dry. Ariadne had helped keep it that way by blocking off the exit, camouflaging it from casual notice, or even a thorough search. She peered out through a small gap in the grate, making sure the alley was clear. She silently slid open the grate and emerged into the night air. Replacing the grate, she climbed up the fire escape on the building opposite her and took her perch on the roof. Ariadne walked to the far corner and looked down at the warehouse below. She pulled out her binoculars and prepared to wait. Within the next 3 hours, everything should be over.

As she waited, Ariadne thought about everything that had led to this point. More than just the hours of stakeouts and the brutal interrogations for this particular gang, she thought back through her past, and through her family’s past. Generation after generation, some had used their gift, their curse, for personal gain or revenge. Some had fought it down and tried to pretend it didn’t exist. Some, like her, had tried to find a way to use it to make the world a better place, to right wrongs, to help people.

Ariadne’s parents had always teased her about being bull-headed, (her drive and tenacity often bordered on foolish stubbornness) but she’d had to grow up a bit before she fully understood their joke. And now her perseverance would pay off again for the side of justice.

The last three figures that she’d been waiting for entered the building, locking the gated entrance behind them. As if that would stop her. She absently rubbed the small bull tattooed out of sight on her upper arm. It was time to get to work. She climbed down to the alley and moved through the shadows toward the warehouse. In the darkness next to a dumpster, Ariadne crouched low. Moments later, a huge shape arose, rising over 8 feet tall. The Minotaur resisted the urge to bellow out a challenge and charged the building. The reinforced door was helpless in the face of such might, and the Minotaur was inside, raring for the fight to follow. Resisting no longer, it let out a mighty roar, and began to stalk its prey.

Two hours later, Ariadne was curled up on her couch rubbing Taurus’ belly while the bulldog panted contentedly. The news showed footage of a police raid in the warehouse district. An anonymous tip had led them to the scene, where they found an entire gang tied up, with stolen goods, security footage, and full confessions waiting for them. She sipped her mug of tea and smiled. It had been a wonderful night.