Title: Urban Legend Author: M-A. Rating: General. Genre: Drama. Pairing: None. Notes: Someone is haunting the streets of Chicago; someone who cares, someone who robs from the rich to give to the poor. A hooded figure skulked through the darkened streets of Chicago. It moved furtively, claiming shadows as hiding spots and dodging the odd passerby. Its destination was a nearby grocer. The building sought was brightly lit, an oasis in the inky darkness of this south side neighbourhood. Perhaps there had been street lamps here in better days. But the city had long since given up the fight, leaving the lamps bulbless against vandals. Gazing through barred windows, the hooded figure saw that the grocer was alone, counting his day's earnings. The store was clean and tidy, a stark contrast to the world outside. The hooded figure knew the grocer did not see himself as being part of this sorry world. He had no heart, no compassion. Perhaps he did not feel a part of this world, but he had been hardened by it. The hooded figure opened the glass and steel door, stepping inside as a bell chimed overhead. "Make it quick, we're closing," the grocer said tersely without looking up from his accounting ledger. "I'll make it quick," the hooded figure replied gruffly. The tone alone made the grocer look up. He saw first the gun, then the hooded and masked person before him. He reached under his counter for the panic button, but thought twice when the intruder removed the safety. "I want you to fill up three boxes with groceries. Then, we're going to get in your car and deliver them." The grocer was startled by these words, but quickly recovered. "It's you..." he said. Then, defiantly, "You don't hurt anyone. I'm calling the cops." The hooded person lifted the gun and said quietly "I haven't hurt anyone yet." Beaten, the grocer did his bidding. Hours later, in the chill of dawn, three destitute single parents with cupboards barer than Mother Hubbard's woke to find a month's worth of groceries on their front stoop. Each murmured a thank you to the hooded and masked person who had been haunting Chicago's streets for almost two months. The media had dubbed the person 'Robin Hood'. Benton Fraser glanced at the headlines of the morning's 'Tribune' as he sipped a strong cup of coffee. "Robin Hood struck again, Ray." His friend and partner, Ray Vecchio, grunted over a mouthful of scrambled eggs. It was a moment before he spoke. "Robin Hood," he scoffed. "Just some two bit hood holding up stores in tights and a mask and a hood." "Well, he does rob from the rich to give to the poor. The comparison is apt," Fraser said dryly. "Yeah. Well, I hate the guy. Welsh is under pressure from his commander to catch him and I'm under pressure from do-gooders to let him keep terrorizing law-abiding business people. I can't win!" "Why 'him', Ray? Perhaps this 'Robin Hood' is a woman." Ray shook his head. "Nah, can't be. From the descriptions we got, Hood's built like a man." Fraser nodded thoughtfully. "Professional feelings aside, Ray, what's your opinion of this man's work?" "It's against the law, Benny," Ray said firmly. "You hold someone up at gunpoint and take without paying, that's stealing..." "But..." There was a hint of a smile in Fraser's eyes. Ray sighed. "Yeah, Benny, I'm with you. Been hanging around you too long, you know. I actually care that some people can't feed their kids now." Fraser smiled sadly. "It's good to know." He glanced at his watch. "I have to go to work, now." He pulled some money out of his hat and laid it on the table. Ray pulled some out of his wallet and did the same. "Want to meet for dinner later, Benny?" Fraser shook his head. "Sorry. There's something I need to do." "Okay, I'll talk to you tomorrow, then." Robin hood struck three establishments that night, two all night grocers and a discount store receiving a late night delivery of merchandise. Five families were fed that night and two dozen children were gifted with toys and clothing. Fraser arrived at the precinct around eight the next morning to find a haggard Ray and a Lieutenant Welsh who seemed to just be starting what was amounting to a tirade of epic proportions. Fraser hadn't checked the day's paper yet, but he didn't need to. "How many?" he asked Ray. "Three. We're mounting a massive stake out." "Do we have any leads on where he's going to strike next?" Ray shrugged. "He's always struck in the same general area and it's always been places that are open late and that get late night deliveries. That narrows it down. You working tomorrow?" "Why?" "Want to join us? It'll be a long night." Fraser grinned. "I'd love to, Ray." Robin Hood did not strike that night. Nor the next. He remained inactive through a full week's worth of nightly stakeouts. On the eighth day, a weary Fraser told Ray that he couldn't take another sleepless night. "Me neither, Benny. Welsh is bringing in a relief team. I'm thinking dinner and an early night." "An excellent idea, Ray. Chinese would be just the ticket tonight." They went to Fraser's place and ordered more food than two men could possibly eat in a night, stuffing themselves on chop suey, fried rice, and sweet and sour pork. Ray took his leave of Fraser around nine, promising to pick him up at seven-thirty the next morning. Robin Hood struck four times that night, narrowly avoiding police. "Well," Fraser said as soon as he was settled in the Riv the next morning. "I'd say it's an odd coincidence that Robin Hood chose to strike again soon as the first team was pulled off the stake out." Ray shrugged. "Coincidence, Benny. If Robin Hood was, say, one of the cops on stakeout the last week, he would have avoided police completely." He took Fraser's silence as acquiescence. Fraser rejoined Ray at the precinct later that day, once he'd finished his shift at the consulate. The bullpen was decorated in the details of the hunt for the elusive modern-day Robin Hood. A map was spread across a board, pins showing where Robin Hood had struck out over the course of his two month long career. The only clue that he afforded police was that he seemed to be spiralling out from his first target. Additionally, the establishments were always of better quality than the neighbourhoods around them, the owners a lot better off than their neighbours. Robin Hood had yet to hit an establishment that could not afford to lose what he took. Alongside the map were composite sketches of a tall, hooded figure. The man seemed slight of build in one drawing and bulky in the next. The hood and short cloak he wore did much to hide his true build. The only fact the police had about Robin Hood's appearance was that he had piercing, light coloured eyes. But no one could agree on whether they were grey or green. Fraser helped Ray type up some notes on the case, but there were still no leads. It was a few nights later that the city appealed to Robin Hood by way of the media to tell the city what he wanted. He told a shop keeper he hit that night. "Social justice." "What does that mean, social justice?" Ray asked Fraser over lunch. Fraser ran a thumb over his left eyebrow. "I reckon he meant an equality of sorts. An equitable division of wealth. Perhaps the shopkeepers he holds up take more from their neighbourhood than they give." Ray mulled this over for a long moment. "I can see your point." Fraser grinned. "Ray, you have been 'hanging out' with me too much." Ray gave him a look. "Hey, you live long enough in this city and you start to care." They finished their lunch in companionable silence. Robin Hood's fame spread through the city like the great fire of 1871. As his fame spread, so did his range. It wasn't long before he'd moved up past the Loop into the Gold Coast. "Ray..." Ray looked up from the pizza slice he'd been staring at for five minutes. He blinked, trying to focus on Fraser and his apartment. "What, Benny?" "Haven't you been sleeping?" "No," Ray said tersely. "No one's sleeping till we catch this Hood guy." "You could use some sleep." "Yeah, well so could you!" Ray snapped. "I can't believe you screwed up the Bruno Mangione bust! Do you know how long we've been trying to catch him?" "Ray..." There was hurt in that single word. Ray rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Benny. We haven't been sleeping. But, next time I say 'don't open your mouth', don't." "I won't, Ray." A pause. "Think he'll strike again tonight?" Ray yawned. "I hope not. If he does, the guy probably has no life." Robin Hood struck again. Welsh was pissed off. "How can a grown man wearing tights and a hood and a mask spend almost three months combing the city at night for places to hit and not be seen by anyone?! More importantly, why haven't we caught him yet?" He looked pointedly at Vecchio who did the smart thing and looked apologetic. "The mayor's on my back to solve this one. It don't look good to have some masked crusader going around helping the poor 'cause it makes it look like he isn't doing enough. He wants this guy brought in now." Robin Hood issued yet another statement a few nights from then. The letter was printed in all the newspapers and was handled by too many people before the police got to it for any evidence to be garnered from it. "This is what I want: -Affordable, good quality housing for the poor -State funded day cares and adult education centres -Tax benefits for people who donate to food banks and who hire locally -Funding for businesses so that they can afford to train locally hired employees with little education In short, I want social justice and an equitable division of wealth in this city." "What a waste of this guy's time," Ray said to Fraser over coffee as they shared the newspaper. "Who'll listen to him?" Perturbed by Robin Hood's words, Fraser answered absent-mindedly. "I have." "Yeah, and so have I and you really think anything's going to change? I've lived in this city my whole life. People have tried to change its reality. Even politicians. What makes him think he alone can change something that's existed for as long as man's been around?!" Fraser ate a bite of toast before responding, giving himself time to collect his thoughts. "He's not alone," he said finally. "Everyone wants a piece of this story. Everyone wants Robin Hood to stop. Even his supporters because they know he'll stop only when his cause has been achieved." "He'll never stop," Ray said firmly. "I disagree, Ray. Some reforms are going to come about because of him, I'm sure of this. Then, Robin Hood will hang up his mask until it's time to remind the city that he's still around and that there are still things to do. One thing I've learned since moving to Chicago, Ray, is that Americans need superheros. Metropolis got Superman and Gotham City got Batman and..." "Chicago got Robin Hood," Ray said glumly. "How can you catch a superhero? You can't! Great, Welsh is going to have my butt." Fraser gave him a small smile. It was a few weeks later, after some unusually heavy attacks by Robin Hood, that the mayor of Chicago set in motion the wheels of social justice. It would be a long, arduous, and, ultimately, unattainable goal. Sometimes, however, the journey has its own rewards. 'Besides,' Robin Hood thought as he temporarily hung up his mask and hood, 'I'll still be here as a reminder. I'll care about this city till I die.' He had been hanging around Fraser too long. But, Ray Vecchio decided, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.