—Tarde como siempre. Que, ¿venías de rodillas?

El Oficial López apenas podía moverse. La bomba no explotó, pero la radiación le pego de frente. Moriría en un par de horas si no recibía atención. Apenas podía pensar. Y aun así la vio frente a él, en toda su gloria. Casi. Quiso decirle que se alejara de la zona.

Pero algo no cuadraba.

Quizás era el hecho de que estaba sentada en una banca bajo el poste donde el terrorista estaba en lo alto, amarrado con lo que parecían ser cables de alta tensión.

A lo mejor era que estaba reposando cómodamente, cuando en todas direcciones había gente tirada en el suelo, con cara de "voy a conocer al creador".

Podría ser el atuendo tan…llamativo que llevaba, tan diminuto que incluso en su actual situación, le hizo preguntarse cómo podía moverse sin dar show

Tal vez era que se estaba tomando un refresco con toda la calma del mundo, como si nada le preocupara.

O a lo mejor era el hecho de que se estaba rascando las bolas como si tuviera un caso muy severo de ladillas.

Ella no era ella. Era el. Y no, no era cualquier "el", no.

Era *ÉL*.

El justiciero que Torres quería ejecutar, al menos públicamente. Todos en Seguridad Publica sabían que de hecho este sujeto trabajaba para el gobierno. Solo que casi nadie lo había visto. Había unas cuantas fotos y clips de video, pero nada mas. Y ahí estaba, el hombre más buscado del país, después de los jefes de los carteles y de aquel cantante que se hacía llamar El Sol, que un día desapareció y nadie volvió a saber de él. Si podía capturarlo, le darían un ascenso y podría dedicarse a rascarse las bolas por el resto de su vida.

Ajá. Apenas podía respirar. Estaba a punto de desplomarse. ¿Cómo iba a detener a este sujeto, que se decía que podía matar a un comando armado a mano limpia?

—Te vez de la chingada. Vas a tener que darte un buen baño después de esto. ¿Un refresco? ¿Vienes solo?

—aghhh…

—Me imagino. Mira, Héroe…te voy a dejar a este cabrón aquí para que le hagan lo que quieran. Se lo merece. Nomás no lo maten porque todavía nos puede servir. Cuando puedas hablar le dices a Torres que Jr. le manda saludos. ¡Ah! Luego paso a tu casa para que hablemos. Si no voy yo te mando a alguien de la casa. Los recuerdas, ¿verdad? Perfecto. Nos vemos luego Héroe. ¡Cuídate!

El Oficial López perdió el conocimiento.

—Late as always. What, did you come on your knees?

Officer Lopez could barely move. The bomb didn't properly explode, but the radiation hit him head on. He would die within a couple of hours if he didn't receive care. He could barely think. And yet he saw her before him, in all her glory. Almost. He tried to tell her to stay away from the area.

But something didn't add up.

Maybe it was the fact that she was sitting on a bench under the pole where the terrorist was perched on top, tied with what appeared to be power lines.

Maybe it was the fact that she was resting comfortably, when in every direction there were people lying on the ground, with their faces screaming "I'm going to meet the creator."

It could be the… flashy outfit she was wearing, so skimpy that he, even in his current condition, wondered how she could move without giving a show.

Maybe it was that she was having a coke calmly, as if nothing in the world was worrying her.

Or maybe it was the fact that she was scratching her balls as if she had a very bad case of lice.

She wasn't a she. She was a he. And no, she wasn't just any "he", no.

She was *HE*.

The vigilante Torres wanted to execute, at least publicly. Everyone in Public Security knew that in fact this guy worked for the government. But almost no one had seen him. There were a few photos and short videos, but nothing more. And there he was, the most wanted man in the country, after the cartel bosses and that singer who called himself El Sol, who one day disappeared and no one heard from him again. If he could catch him, he'd get a promotion and he could scratch his balls for the rest of his life.

Yeah. Right. He could barely breathe. He was about to collapse. How was he going to stop this guy, who was said to be able to kill an armed commando with his bare hands?

—You look like shit. You're going to have to take a good bath after this. Coke? Are you alone?

—aghhh…

-I guess so. Look, Hero...I'm going to leave this bastard here so they can do whatever they want to him. He deserves it. Just don't kill him because he can still be useful. When you can talk, tell Torres that Jr. sends his best. Ah! I'll go to your house later so we can talk. If I don't go, I'll send you someone from the House. You remember them, right? Perfect. See you later Hero. Take care!

Officer López lost consciousness.