Barely Legal Part Three There's a certain sense of satisfaction that fills a hunter who comes upon its prey in a completely unsuspecting state. In the case of the Living Nightmare and I, she was standing in a darkened alleyway, hidden by the shadows and finding comfort and safety in them. She'd sent some of her boys off for the night, probably to take part in the big gathering Chester was preparing to crash... and she was waiting all the while for her best friend, her confidant, the woman who'd been her partner for so very long now... To put it simply, she was waiting for a dead chick, and a dead chick did arrive. "Emma? Hey sis, the fuck took you so lo...ng..." Thud. She'd heard my approaching footsteps. She'd mistaken me for her dead friend, for the only woman she thought would know where she was tonight. She learned from that mistake the moment she saw Emma's body crumple to the ground beside the shadowman standing before her, all life drained from her longtime friend's face. Grinning all the while, I studied her expressions, first of shock and revulsion, then of horror... and then of anger. "You fucking son of a..." She drew out her revolver, pulling it forward and hoping I wouldn't close the distance between the two of us before she could fire. I did. The gun clattered against the pavement and with a solid "oomf" sound, the living nightmare found herself sent staggering back, further into the dark alley. To Kat, that might have been thought to be a blessing. The shadows meant an easy escape, just as they had when we'd busted her and her crew that night long ago... I was certain she was thinking about bolting to save her hide. I knew that, on any other night, the little bitch might do just that. Yet if there's one thing to say about the traitorous rat, it's that she's loyal to her fellow rats, and especially loyal to the dead woman now lying several feet behind me. With a guttural yell of anger and anguish, Kathrine stepped in and swung wildly for my head. For what it was worth, the kid knew how to fight well... training in our Police Force tends to grant you that ability in time. But she was wild. Angry. Unable to control her movements, just acting out on raw emotion alone. Picture a woman who thought she could take the city by the balls and drag it to the depths of his little underworld. Picture a woman who believed she could make us ripe for picking by those punks dominating the city over. Picture a woman who believed she'd join rank with them and reap the prosperity they'd be rewarded for it all. Katherine Stryfe was all of that and more, and because of it all, she had degenerated into a predictable, avoidable, staggering storm of mixed emotions ready to be quieted by the simple housecat who'd exposed the lion for the rat that she was. I allowed her next swing to follow forward over my shoulder, barely missing a strike across my cheek in the process. Reaching up, my arms wrapped over her still extended arm and I braced my shoulder, clasping my hands together tightly and bringing them down upon Kat's elbow with as much of my weight as possible. A satisfying crack resounded through the air. It was followed by an ever-more satisfying guttural scream of pain, as Kathrine ripped her arm back and staggered over herself, nearly falling on her ass as her arm dangled uselessly at her side, her eyes as wide as I'd ever seen them, almost mimicking his fallen friend's eyes from those hours before. she sputtered insanities beneath her breath, realizing quickly how fruitless this fight would be for her, realizing she wouldn't be avenging her fallen friend... ... realizing I wouldn't be letting her get out of here alive. "W-w-what the fuck, Johnny?! What the fuck?!" I stepped closer to her, backing her further into the alley as I reaching to my holster, drawing my own revolver out and kicking her fallen one beneath the dumpster at our side. She was shaking now, staring a hole into the gun in my hand, sweat dripping down her brow. I remained silent, taking the safety off of my gun and watching her squirm before me, finally falling over herself and to the ground below, yet another cry of pain escaping her lips. Her arm looked downright mangled, I knew it was causing him a great deal of pain... it was as I'd intended it to in the first place, after-all. Her breathing was sharp and her eyes darting every way they could, looking for a possible escape route, looking for a last chance at survival from the man before her... looking for any hope that she might cling to, any chance that she might take. Finding nothing in return. Resorting to begging. Resorting to pleading. Resorting to negotiating a means for his hopeful survival. "C'mon man... the f-fuck are you doing?! You've got me, you f-f-finally caught my ass... slap some fucking cuffs on me, you old fuck! You broke my fucking arm, I can't fucking hurt you, man!" Crack. A shout of pain, distorted by the sound of her mouth caving in on its right side, escaped the lips of the roaring living Nightmare. I heard the clatter of teeth just a foot away as the druglord before me clutched at her face with her good arm, blood pumping from the side of her mouth. Her breathing was ragged now, her tongue blanketed by the crimson copper invading her mouth. "Y-y-you fuck! You... you fucking... you work for the Bureau, man! You... you can't kill people...!!" I chuckle darkly and her eyes go wide, searching desperately to see my own, covered by the shadows as I hovered above her. Finally, I speak my first words to the scumbag I used to call a man of justice... and the words echo through the alley, sending a visible chill down the spin of the woman. "I can when they don't know it's me." She's squealing now, turning more into a dying pig than a rat as she pushes herself backwards in a pathetic attempt to escape. The squeals and grunts aren't exactly high-pitched, however... less offensive to the ears, at least, and I'd rather savor her suffering than silence her early to save myself the damaged eardrums. Her back hits a wall at the end of the alley, her journeys stopped in their tracks as she winces at the impact, eyes widdening in terror as she lifts her shaking head to look up at me, sputtering out her plea. "Christ, man... but you... y-you're a fucking hero to t-t-these people... heroes don't murder, man! Heroes don't do the shit you did to Drew! Heroes don't--" "You're right" I interrupt, lifting the gun on-level with her head, making the shakes in her body grow ever-more violent as I stare at her in her final moments of terror, her body trying desperately to fight through the fear coursing her veins, trying desperately to get her legs working again, to get the so-called living nightmare out from the alley and to the safety of the underground "I am a hero to those people... and heroes don't kill." She stops for a moment, eyes still wide but a small glimmer of hope flickering through her eyes. The flicker fades when the revolver begins to click, the shakes returning in force as I chuckle after my words, shaking my head softly. "But more than that, I am this city's savior... and in betraying the code that this hero follows, I'm saving his city from shitbags like you." Kat shakily reaches her good arm up to grasp at the revolver as its cold steel presses against her forehead, her hand trying desperately to pull the weapon away. She's sobbing now, snot and tears disgustingly mixing and falling past her lips and chin, falling to the ground below and leaving strings hanging in gravity, a sickening display from a sickening man. My finger begins to press down upon the trigger. "Let's face it, kid... not even a savior like me would want to save you now." "OH GOD, JOHNNY, PLEASE DON'T KILL ME--" BANG! ... ... ... ... CONTINUE