Empire -- City of vice. (BlackOut & Claire)

[Ana Rain]

Empire City was everything that a 21st century metropolis ought to be; it was a hustling, bustling, chaotic urban jungle. But it was a sprawl of concrete, neon, glass and titanium which had a genuine heart and a soul, a history as irrepressible as any modern western cultural capital, and an attitude to rival any other city. It was simply a place where life oozed through the boulevards and avenues and where character radiated from hotchpotch of art-deco, gothic and neoclassical buildings which lined the streets in the older parts of the city. Jazz singers and romantic eulogizers could wax lyrical about Empire City being a "classy town" and "a hell of a place to party", and it certainly had it's charm. But the old city also had it's fair share of problems as well. For all it's class, it's pomp and parties, well, Empire City had been a city of sin for as long as anyone could remember.

The oldest citizens could always remember the cities "boom years", the times when it was one of the biggest ports on the Eastern seaboard and trade had flowed through it as though it were the center of the universe. Now the trade was mostly digital, or at the very least electronic, and despite the modest port - which still ran 30% of all East-bound shipping - it seemed that the city had eschewed it's seafaring and merchant roots. Some of the old mills and warehouses still stood on the river, and in some cases they'd found reuse as funky apartments, cinemas or shopping malls, but many stood there are a testament to the industrial past. Little more than large historical footnotes to remind the people of where the city had been little more than 60 years previous.

In truth the so called "boom" was hardly really a thing of the past; the money certainly ebbed and it flowed, but the biggest shift had simply been the division of proceeds and profits. In fact, over time the money had actually increased, but so too had it also steadily found itself redirected to run into the pockets of a more select few. If some were to be believed then equity and egalitarianism were slowly made silent victims in the face of the slow march of "progress". Empire's money-men and it's power-brokers may have shifted and changed as the city itself evolved, but as always a fair number of them broke the rules to ensure their hands stayed well and truly in the cookie jar. So the battle between those who wished to clean up the city, and those who had a vested interest in the messy, chaotic - and ultimately financially rewarding - status quo had raged for longer than anyone could actually remember... if there was an end to the crime, corruption and exploitation which blighted some of the vulnerable, well, it had needed to start on the streets.


Empire's founding father had stood in stone proudly above the courthouse for almost a century. The large plinth upon which he stood to peer out at the buildings which dwarfed his place in the city had been refurbished and cleaned more times than the city government cared to admit, but it was one hell of a monument. It was also a perch from which the convergence of streets that were the epicenter of the cities financial heart became most easily observed. Forbes St and Greenwich Ave sat proudly beneath the courthouse, bathed in streetlight, and as silent as might be expected at 2am in the morning. Silent, at least, but for the fluttering of the flags which hung below the statue and the low creaking of the poles which bore them. The lively banners dancing in the breeze above and the surprisingly bright light on the street below made for quite the distraction; all but the most well trained and critical eye could easily have missed the lithe figure crouched in the darkness at the feet of Archibald Valence - the father of Empire City. The stillness of the dark silhouette against the dark marble certainly didn't help, and it was that which Shade was counting on to hide her from any prying eyes which might care to cast their glare towards the heavens above.

To the slim heroine, Forbes avenue at 2am had the eerie silence of an empty amphitheater. She'd been on the street a mere 8 hours previous, enjoying a coffee and looking for the perfect place to observe the goings on below. Now looking down across the road Shade knew she had to be in the right place, it was simply too quiet. The area around her was home to banks, to insurance-brokers and private equity firms, but it had little in the way of anything residential or commercial. She knew it was expected to be deathly silent as the clock passed midnight, yet even in the solitude and the darkness it was a place that reeked of excess. Yet as she glanced down towards Greenwich Avenue she knew it led to all of the excesses that the bankers and the brokers enjoyed, a mere mile from downtown Empire City were the upmarket "gentlemen's clubs" and bars that would now be slowly filling the night. The city was such a strange and dynamic mix.

But then and there it simply felt late, and down from the courthouse itself there didn't seem to be too many signs of life. Yet the young heroine had been tipped off that this was the place and it seemed a more than piece of information... so she watched and waited, a wraith dressed all in black. Her specially made "night suit" absorbing any light that hit her, rendering her practically invisible in the shadows, her half-face mask covering the top of her nose, but leaving her brown eyes exposed to survey the scene, and her hair tied back into a short pony-tail - it was glamourous but it was functional, and the look was something that shade was proud of given that she didn't mind the publicity all that much, albeit her true identity very much veiled behind the anonymity she rather enjoyed.

Finally her patience wore thin and she darted from her position on the ledge, her eyes darting from space to space as she looked for the perfect spot. Then, in a flash, she vanished... appearing a fraction of a second later atop the 4 storey bank opposite, a wry smile growing on her tanned features, glancing across the large gap and 40m drop which she had bridged in the blink of an eye. "This better go to plan. I am not losing sleep for nothing!" she muttered to herself as she froze in place, perched on the ledge which jutted out of the south-east corner of the First Municipal Bank. She knew that there was likely to be an entry point which could easily allow her entry into the large main hall of the bank, but it was not really what she was looking for, in fact, the bank was the very last place she expected her adversaries to undertake their "deal". She knew that the men she happened to be hunting were going to be making some manner of "switch", that they were trading in contraband. But the minor drug pusher she had pressed for information had seemingly known little more than that. "These guys are not amateurs. Why send lieutenants to do grunts work?" she wondered aloud as she pored over the names she had managed to associate with the trade she "knew" was about to take place.

... finally it happened. Shade spotted the dark grey van the moment it appeared, and she watched like a hawk as it pulled into the alleyway a block down on Forbes St. Ah, here we go... show time...

She swiftly climbed to the roof with the apparent ease of an acrobat, her lightly-super-powered body allowing her aerobic feats which others would have found nigh on impossible. The moment she hit the tiled precipice atop the bank she dashed off towards the van, making haste in hurdling across 8-storey drops and practically dancing over walls and up fire-escapes... all of it in remarkable silence, her soft rubber soled shoes leaving little more than the pitter-patter of a cat in the night-time. The noise of the running engine and the muffled radio within the growing sounds as she herself grew nearer her prey. It was time!

 

[Black_Out]

The dingy brown van idled in the narrow darkness of the alleyway that sliced between the First Municipal Bank and the Law Offices of Schmidt and Stein. The parking brake had been engaged, the music rumbled though the boss man had turned the hip hop selection down to a reasonable level that lent the funky jam the aura of a backdrop soundtrack in some movie. His brown polished shoe tapped silently along with the tempo of the song as his hawkish eyes shifted every few seconds. Checking the side mirror, looking down the shadow painted alleyway and at the glimmering flickers of light that shone down from the nighttime sky high above.

Yeah, they were alone, things were going as planned. The cops that worked this beat had been paid off and wouldn't be trolling the nearby streets for several hours yet. Stacks of contraband in the form of green little pills, coated lollipops, candied pacifiers, and pure as fresh rain liquid Euphoria were arranged in the back of the vans cargo hold. Most of it was destined for an upcoming rave on the fringes of the city in the dysfunctional all but abandoned stretch of factories whose rusted out shells hearkened back to Empires early days of unionization. It was a mountainous supply and there was plenty to feed that event and still leave enough to be divvied to the streets where it would be chewed up by the addicted and soon to be addicts of Empire City.

That wasn't all that was in the back of the van though, deals of this magnitude required a certain level of protection. As such, two men of some significant mass and muscle were hunkered down in the bared confines of the back of the van. Shotguns, loaded and at the ready were cradled in their laps. Their rough fingers stroked over the metal tubes of the twin barreled guns, checked over the shells that served as ammunition for the weapons that were stowed in the pockets of their jackets while they listened to the muted tune from the cab of the van. If anyone other then their boss opened those back doors to access the goods stored within, well the muzzle flash of their weapons would surely greet that ill-advised intrusion.

Pistols were the firearm of choice up front, sleek chrome and polished handguns that contained round after round of armor piercing slugs. Dealing in the drugs had afforded these couriers of contraband deep pockets and they spared little of it where it concerned their armaments. In contrast to the blaring bangs that the shotguns would make, their pistols were capped with rotund tubes that would silence the pulls of the trigger and the subsequent pop would make hardly a peep.

Finnegan, the boss of this show had been working for the past five years under the employ of particularly mysterious chemist that called himself Paradox. He met the man once, and that was more then enough for his liking. For fucks sake, that mask he wore and the choking wheezing sputters of his voice were amply unsettling. So just do your job, do it well, collect your pay, keep your nose clean and don't make a point to meet with him ever again were hallmarks of the code Finnegan strived to follow. The luxury of his job and the ample free time it provided him afforded him the pursuit of his own leisurely endeavors. Prostitution and pornography were a pair of such enterprises that Finnegan had his hands personally sunk within. He even worked with the owner of a popular strip club called Pulse just a few short blocks away in the center of the entertainment districts attractive limelight.

That's who he was supplying tonight. That rave, while it would bring its own abundant profit in was a simple lure for the illicit kidnapping and trafficking of young attractive women that were bound to inexplicably disappear from the throng of revelers attending the event. Finnegan was fortunate enough to have unsolicited access to sample some of those feminine treats in the dungeon like secret depths of Pulse. Plenty of the stolen away women would undoubtedly end up starring in underground custom sex tapes that traded across the highway of the internet. Others would be pimped out, sold to various men that would direct their every deed and collect the expected daily funds from those that they whored out. Those left over, were the finest of catches. Model quality beauties whose faces might be recognized, or who hadn't been broken by the powerful call of Euphoria were left to service the private membership in the secretive depths of Pulses hidden away basement level. Eventually they would be sold off at auction, shipped out of state or even far over seas to those wealthy and powerful enough to not be concerned with attaching themselves to such risky endeavors.

Finally the blue sedan arrived, its headlights cutting past the alleyway before the red glow of its brake lights shone as the four door tinted window vehicle slowed to a stop. The white rectangles of the rear backing lights stood out in the darkness as the sedan backed into the alleyway and the unseen driver of the luxury vehicle cut the headlights off. The trunk popped open shortly after Finnegans foot touched the pavement as he stepped out of the passenger side of the brown van while the driver by his side sat tight for the moment. Three others swept out of the opening doors of the sedan and greeted the boss with shifty glances and quick smiles.

Finnegan's dull hazel eyes peered down into the open trunk and sized up the pair of duffel bags full of cash. His fingers unzipped one black bag and ruffled the stacks of taped together bills as if he could count them just by handling. "I get my pick of the litter from the collection your pulling from the rave, right?" His stubble worn face on his shaved down brown clean crew cut head turned to look towards the business representative Pulse had sent to finalize this arrangement.

"No, come on now, you know you get second pick, you know who gets first." The dapper well dressed man in the black suit and slim navy blue tie answered as he tucked his hands under his coat and let his palm rest upon the brown textured handle of his own hidden away pistol. "We're looking to bring in twelve new girls, we'll break em in at the club like usual. You can drop by the morning after and take a look at whats available." Stephen, one devilishly handsome fella with a dark attractively tangled mess of hair that worked for the club as a mercenary slash manager responded as he nodded towards the closed doors of the van. "It's all there, and I assume your end is all here?" His gaze swept around the dark lit alleyway and showed no sign of detecting the presence and approach of the vigilante lurking in the shadows.

As Finnegan answered with a nod and turned to open the van doors after giving them a solid single slap with his palm to alert his crew that the deal was going down as planned Stephen responded "We'll trade vehicles, I'll send someone to pick up the car from ya at the usual spot in the morning. I really wish you guys would get a new van by the way, you can fucking afford one." There was a small chuckle from Stephens two assistants and even a murmured laugh from Finnegan himself at the humorous jab.

 

[Ana Rain]

As she approached the precipice which dropped off into the alleyway below the young superheroine could feel the tension in her stomach rising just a little. She had been working as a "vigilante" - as some law enforcement so unflatteringly termed it - since her senior year of college, and in the 2 years since she had seen more than a few midnight criminal rendezvous. Shade no longer felt the same niggling fear which had filled her earliest nights on the street fight crime, but she also no longer had her mentor and friend - The Raven - for support and backup. He had long since moved to Metropolis, and left her to fly the nest and fight crime on her own; well, occasionally – and *very* fleetingly - in tandem with a couple of the cities other "supers". But in truth Shade knew that she'd exceeded all of her early expectations. She had garnered a reputation, and even something of a following. But importantly, she felt as though now the long winter nights of Empire City belonged to her!

With her eyes fully adjusted to the darkness it took only a fraction of a second to focus as the black was punctuated by the lights below. The muted headlights which filled the darkness could only be those from a older model vehicle, or from bulbs which had been adjusted just for this manner of shadowy work. The van was a darker colour, and looked to be rolling to a stop rather patiently, the lights shutting off as hummed to a halt, it’s engine idling for a moment before dying into silence. A van like that, rolling into a deserted night-time Alleyway, it only meant one thing… vice… or at least something they wished to be hidden from view. Shade had patience too, and her watchful eyes scanned the darkness below, hearing the muffled Hip-Hop music rising up from the cab below. Criminals with good taste in music? the thought brought a smile to her face.

But the sound of a second engine, and the lights which duly followed, brought her right back to the business at hand. The new arrival bathed the alley beneath her feet in hues of amber and red, their dark sedan reversing. The second set of lights fell dead as the vehicles converged, almost as though they thought that the darkness would shield them and protect whatever folly it was they had planned. They couldn’t have been more wrong.

Shade didn’t recognize the man who climbed from the front of the van, perhaps it was impossible from 100ft in such darkness. He was not a "name" as far as she was concerned, but he was most likely to be significant, and given his transport she assumed him not to be without some serious backup; perhaps at *least* one, no, two or perhaps three well armed “enforcers”. She assumed there might be 1 in the front of the car that she couldn't see from her vantage point, and maybe 2 in the back. He was tall, and dressed casually, and he just had a look that could be recognised anywhere; he was pale, shaven-headed, grizzled and dangerous. He could be Irish, or Eastern European, in truth he was the kind of thug who would fit comfortably in just about any lineup. As he strode around the back of the van to greet his conspirators she found her eyes drifting towards the sedan.

The man who emerged from the other vehicle, it was easy to see, was a different beast indeed. A man who was not so foreign and unknown.

Oh, nice suit! She almost muttered the words outloud as her memories came flooding back. The court gallery had been mostly a dull affair, but the suited younger man with his notepad and grimace had stood out a mile away; he was certainly not family, he was not a lawyer nor a reporter, so it had meant he could only be there on "business". Shade, of course, made it her own business to attend the occasional trial, often not even those in which she'd participated in the bust. Her internship with a legal-aid charity and her part-time job writing summaries for a local online paper gave her all the excuse in the world to make the trip to the courthouse; and no-one paid any mind. But Stephen, well, he'd certainly gotten her attention more than the court case itself; so much so that she'd made it her business to find out exactly who he was. As the sleazy and smooth looking “suit” had collected his belongings from the court cloakroom she'd been sure to follow up and read his name right off the register... it had yielded a surprising degree of honesty. It seemed that Stephen Kilbannon had little need to hide his identity, and - after just a little digging - not a pending arrest warrant to his name. But you had to go and do drugs... I'm so disappointed Stephen... honestly, Shade muttered to herself, allowing a wry smile to cross her face. Was he a big fish? or just some middling lieutenant? Shade knew that the answers would be easy enough to come by if she found herself back in the gallery for his trial; well, if *that* was the way things went. With all of the guns in the alley below there was every chance that things could go another way entirely!

She counted all of the different "actors" in the alley, measuring the distance to each one of them. She watched patiently as the men in the rear of the van disembarked, followed by the driver; seemingly their trade would be the vehicles themselves, to go along with whatever cargo they held. The whole thing had the strangest air of calm, and suddenly the dark-haired heroine was aware that she still had no inkling of what was really being “sold”. Drugs? Women? Something else? The money was in the car, of that she was certain… and the merchandise in the van. So she had a dilemma. The man with the shaven head seemed the greater threat - he had 3 men with him, and they were tooled up with a veritable arsenal – but the slick looking amigo with thick brown hair had the merchandise. Who to hit first…

Shade knew that her own "moment" would arrive when all beneath her thought that their troubles had ended. She knew that when she hit deals before they occurred it sowed distrust, confusion, and a hail of bullets; with the criminals on edge they opened fire on anything that moved. It was bad for just about everyone, and it was the way she'd managed to get herself shot way back when she'd very first started. She still had the scars on her shoulder and her wrist to show for it. She'd learned a lesson from the bloodshed! Attacking in the middle of a deal was something she'd never cared to try, for she imagined a similar result. But, as things wound up and the money was closed up in the rear of the Sedan, well, then it seemed that everyone was so very self-satisfied and uncocked. She knew it risked losing at least one of the two parties, but, that was a small price to pay for the surety of avoiding an utter bloodbath and more enmity from the media and police.

Doors were closing below, clicking into their fittings, the cars waking up and bathing the alley once again in dim light. Shade picked up the stray red brick she spotted upon her arrival, weighing it in her hand and measuring the distance to the alley below. Then, with a smile crossing her half-masked face, she tossed it into the air 20 feet or so to her left and dropped silently into the darkness below.

The whir of violence which followed lasted no more than 30 seconds.

Shade descended to the hard tarmac like an Owl dropping stealthily from above, she landed with all the grace and silence that her name wrought on those who knew her. Within moments she darted at the car as it reversed away down the alleyway. In the darkness it's driver didn't stand a chance, especially with his eyes firmly on the mirror. As she vanished into thin air the windshield was decimated by the brick she had so expertly and nonchalantly tossed from above. Shade reappeared milliseconds after it's crashing impact, pulling the driver forward by back of his head and slamming his face into the steering wheel, expertly deploying the air-bag, and - rather by design - stopping the car in its tracks. The driver-side henchman, the shaven-headed one, barely had time to lift the gun from his lap before shade had kicked in the shattered wind-screen and sent a second kick almost through his jaw; the cracking sound leaving no uncertainty that he would not be partaking of the fight any further.

"Sorry guys. The party is over!"Shade snapped as she felt her focus flowing through her as she vanished again, *blinking* - as she could only describe it - 6 feet forward into the backseat of the small mondeo. She knelt forward on the seat between the two men, and both occupants moved almost in slow motion, stunned at the intrusion and the sheer velocity of the assault. The third henchman moved to throw a punch, ultimately catching nothing but air, his hands grasping for little more than a shadow as Shade dropped inside the arc of his swinging left arm. She was simply too fast. And within seconds he too was pacified, his head slammed into the window with three brutal pumps that left cracked and stained with more than a little blood. But suddenly Shade was aware the other occupant, he was reaching to raise his shotgun. Her reactions were automatic, a reflex trained and sharped from an already razor sharp natural point. She spun her entire body on the seat, cracking her elbow into his windpipe and then reaching across in one motion with her other hand and grabbing the wrist with which he had reached for the weapon and slamming it against the door. Two further swift cracks of her elbow left him unconscious. But suddenly the alleyway was alive with noise!

"It's her. It's her!!! That bitch!" the voices were impossible not to hear, and Shade knew they were the guys who had been straggling behind The Suit as he'd headed to his “new” van. She shot her gaze sideways into the darkness beyond the right-side window, then, focusing all of her energy she vanishing into it, emerging from the car without using a door or window, simply moving through the short space between as though she were a wraith. *That* was her power, and although it drained her, and she could only "jump" to places she could see, it was enough to give her the edge over criminals who simply didn't ever see her coming.

She hung in the darkness for little more than a second as the two armed men ran back towards the car. Their voices filled the night air with obscenity as they raised their weapons and prepared to light up just about everything in sight. But moments later they themselves were silenced. Shade dashed through the darkness as the bullets slid around her helplessly. She extinguished the guns with efficiency, dispatched one Stephen’s men with the butt of his own gun - shattering his eye-socket - and the other with a brutal slam into the boot of the car and a swift kick to his head as he crumpled to the floor. 6 down... and the other 1, well, he had to realize exactly whom it was he was facing.

Shade was unnaturally fast, she moved with a hunters grace, and she had the freakish, superhuman ability to move over short distances instantly; disappearing and reappearing in literally the blink of an eye. She was a shadow, and her speed allowed her to finish fights almost before they began. "Put the guns down and surrender!" she yelled down the alleyway, crouched just behind the dumpster, mere feet from the body of the latest prone henchman. She had taken out 6 men in under 30 seconds, she knew it was almost an unfair fight given the advantage that the darkness delivered to her. "You're not going to win this one!"

How they reacted, well, it was anyone's guess. Shade knew that it was always different, every single time! But she wanted to give them a chance... at least before she had to kick their asses. "Come on. You don't really want to get beaten up by a girl, do you?" her own comment actually gave her pause to smile. She had just an inkling of exactly how the police and the criminals felt about being "beaten" by someone of the "fairer" sex. Their attitudes, well, it was all the motivation she needed.

There was no answer. Not a word. Was he trying to sneak up on her? Was he loading up another weapon? She slipped out and across the alley, seeing the van, it’s back doors wide open and half of whatever was packed inside splayed out across the floor. “No… no… that goddamn asshole!” it had been quickly pillaged, boxes strewn open. The Suit had quickly taken what he could and fled… and all the while she had expected a gunfight. “Hm… maybe he’s not so stupid.” she realized, wondering how futile it might be to wander to the end of the alleyway, to try and catch him or cut him off.

One of the henchmen behind her started to stir. “Fucking bitch...” he groaned, making to move.

No. She couldn’t go chasing the runner, she had other fish to fry.

 

[Black_Out]

The face of the man was still washed with the red imprint of his impact with the back of the sedan. Nose twisted and bent, bloodied from the blow. He was barely able to move and the only one of the six that seemed capable enough at the moment to even try. "Who tha fuck do you think you are, you fucking cunt, you don't own this fucking town..." He snarled the words out of his busted up lips as he feebly tried to lunge towards his fallen weapon.

Further down the alley, the only one to escape unscathed was still running. Duffel bag full of drug laced lollipops bounced against his side with every long departing stride he took. Except Stephen wasn't wearing running shoes and the discomfort caused by his deeply polished and tidy black dress shoes were wearing thin on his resolve. He had no idea if the hunter was still on his trail, even if she was he probably wouldn't know it. That's just the way Shade was always talked about. Coming out of nowhere, moving like a deadly blur, most everyone feared that vigilante.

Except for his boss, the Baron, and others like him that held court in Empire City.

The pattering steps of his feet clapping against the dirty cracked asphalt of the alleyway slowed after a solid minute of running. In the back of Stephens mind he figured if she was coming for him, she would of been on him by now. So he spared his aching feet a moments respite as he exited the alleyway and tried to assume a more casual stroll and demeanor. His chest heaved as he caught his breath and he leaned back against the wall to take a look around the opposite side of the block where he had emerged. Fingers fished into the soft silk lined pocket on the inside of his jacket while he looked about for a place that might over some refuge. His fingers were busy working over his contacts until he found what he was looking for, pressed down, and sent the call on its way.

The two tone cruiser of black and blue, the staple color of Empire City's police force was meandering down Greenwhich Ave. The two officers inside, Hall the senior officer who always drove and Brubaker his younger partner were keeping look out for any potential soon to be DUI offenders. It was a nice way to line their pockets. Pull over a rich somewhat tipsy driver. Give em the shake down, make them feel like their night was about to take a really bad turn. Most were eager to open up their wallets in return for their blessing to let it slide.

Plus there was just so much fine ass to look at along this stretch of capital night time real estate. The sudden beeping of Brubakers phone interrupted their interlude of eye candy observations. He immediately recognized the caller and looked to his partner briefly as he flashed the phone his way to let him see the name. "Put him on speaker phone." Hall muttered under his breath as his partner flicked the icon and held the phone up to find out as he started the conversation off with a simple. "Yeah?"

"Whatever your doing, I need you to break it off now. Shade showed up. Shit went south, get to the alleyway on Forbes between the bank and the law firm, like now." Stephens breath had finally calmed enough, though the panic in his chest reflected into his tone. He continued talking as his head pivoted, looking about in a mix of casual paranoia as he turned and started off down the sidewalk. "Make sure that you contain this. You'll get your biggest pay day ever if ends up like nothing ever happened." He took a moment to catch his breath and try to compose himself as he neared the front door of a high end corner pub that seemed inconspicuous enough.

The blue spinning lights flashed on and the car immediately started to spin around as the moderate flow of traffic screeched to a stop around the cruiser. With gas pedal pressed to the floor the tires squealed from under the carriage of the sedan as it shot back down the road in the direction of Forbes Ave with its sirens waliing. "We're on our way. Be there in a couple minutes." Brubaker stated before pausing a moment to listen for anything else Stephen might have to say and when it came with silence he hung up.

"Call Holly, make sure she's taking anything incoming from that quad." Hall was quick to say as he maneuvered the cop car through the parting flow of traffic. Brubaker nodded and got right back to work dialing up one of their partners on the inside. Holly would make sure that any incoming reports from that patch of land would start and end with her.

Stephen wiped his dark sleeve over his forehead, took a moment to pass his hand through his ruffled up hair as he looked himself over in a mirror and then took a moment to look around. Quick steps took him to a solitary booth nearby a side fire exit. Good thing to have handy, he figured as he settled himself down so his back was towards the door and the looming billboard like back of the cushioned booth bench hid him from view of those who entered from the front. His fingers were already swiping through his phone to call into his boss when the waitress, a petite buxom girl with a nice set of hips showed up to check on him.

He smiled her way as he brought the phone up to his ear. "Glass of your best single malt scotch, one ice cube. Make it a double, no a triple pour." He winked and then ushered her away with a flash of his delicate hand. For a moment his eyes lost themselves in the sway of her hips as she turned and made her way off towards the bar. She should could be in porn, should be really his thoughts wandered away before the act of his finger touching the button that made the call to the Baron drew him back to more pressing matters.

Greenwhich Ave was a long street, but it eventually ran out of real estate to explore and handed off its vibrant energy to a street that ran alongside its path. Bell Street. That's where one could find -The Eclectic- a successful and trendy strip club that doubled as a venue for a wide ranged of jazz acts that came through Empire. Wednesday and Thursday nights were always booked with some of the best up and coming talent. The owner, Deshey Tower considered himself something of an expert in that particular genre of music. In this way he figured he was helping to foster its growth, and building the name of his club up in the event that any of the acts that passed through his doors hit it big.

So, yeah, Friday's like tonight were something of a let down for him personally. The place was busy enough, but he wasn't really in the mood for the racy hip hop music that was flooding the club. Instead he simply made due with the upbeat jazz funk of an old master, Herbie Hancock while he whittled away the hours from the comfort and privacy of his overlooking loft office. The windows were deeply tinted, meaning Deshey, or the Baron as he was known in certain circles could see out, but no one could see in.

Currently he was lounged back in his rustic brown leather office chair. Thick and pungent cigar smoke wafted up around his heavy chiseled dark skinned face. He took a leisurely drag from the expensive cellar reserve cigar of some twenty years in age that was perched between his stubby thick fingers. Eyes shifted downward to his phone on the table as it hummed and caught the mammoth of a mans attention. Stephens name blinked on the screen as the one calling himself the Baron swiped the pad of his thumb across the screen to answer.

"Why do you have to interrupt me when I'm getting my dick sucked, Stephen?" His free hand slipped down between his legs and patted the top of a curly blonde haired numbers head that was busy stroking and sucking around his thick black pipe.

 

[Ana Rain]

The grumbling and grunting behind her was enough to put any thoughts of a chase out of her mind. She hadn't seen the slippery suited criminal flee, but she knew he was likely to be out on the street and potentially armed; it was a recipe for stray bullets and collateral damage that she certainly didn't need on her rather sparkling - at least among the public - reputation. The talented young heroine had seen a number of supposed "vigilantes" vilified in the cities press, and by the local PD, when their actions had been deemed "reckless". Any damage to property, injuries to bystanders, or cost to the good taxpayers and citizens of the city seemed to be pounced upon by the media, painted as foolish, dangerous or worse, "criminal". With their ties to some of the shadier organizations and individuals, the supposedly "free" press of Empire City seemed free to ignore the most powerful, corrupt and public figures, instead turning their sights on various scapegoats, including the "dangerous renegades" who tried to bring some justice to the streets. There was money, and a lot of it, tied up in the cities various vices, much of it now entirely legal thanks to changes at the top of the legislature; strip clubs, indentured servitude, weed, pornography... all of it. It was a side of the city that Shade, and her ilk, wanted to see banished. She, for one, knew that the vice fed crime, it led to the corruption of innocents, to ruination for those who stood in the way of the special interests. It meant she had to take down their operation one piece at a time. Henchman by henchman, pill by pill, club by club.

“God damnit! Won’t you guys just stay unconscious?!” Shade muttered, her eyes narrowing in irritation, she hated letting anyone get away. But at least she had the money and at least half of shipment of contraband too, and none of it was guaranteed to stay that way if she went chasing after the lone, cowardly, escapee. Shade turned her back on the old brown van and headed back towards the groans and anger, towards the few conscious prone and injured men who wished her harm. She moved astonishingly and unnaturally quickly, kicking away weapons from the two men who lay on the floor before the sedan, and tying their hands with the bright yellow cable-ties she kept in a tight black pouch at her hip, then turning her attention to the 4 men inside of it. Two of them were reaching for weapons, fumbling in the darkness for guns that had slipped out of their grasp and onto the floor. Each was greeted with a remorseless flurry of violence as they groggily grabbed for their guns, her tightly wrapped and well trained fists finding their mark with alarming skill and accuracy, swiftly rendering each them silent and unmoving.

But the violent and swift moving wraith had little time to admire her own handiwork. She heard the blaring of the intermittent sirens, they were distant but growing ever closer. Easily less than a minute away. Fuck, I didn’t call them... Shade realized, retreating gracefully up a fire-escape as the lights of the cruiser rolled slowly past the front of the alley. The lights atop the vehicle dying, as it’s doors swung open. They’ve gotta be dirty cops... she noted, knowing there was surely no way that they had arrived by pure chance. They couldn’t have arrived on the scene so quickly without a tip, perhaps even without information that could only have come from someone connected to the whole mess. She only had to watch and confirm it.

”This is the police. Put your weapons down!” The two men from the cop car called out into the darkness, their words piercing the silence, echoing off the concrete and red-brick walls. Shade watched them stealthily from up on high, her eyes scanning below as they moved past the van, their pistols drawn. The officers didn’t once touch their radios, instead calling out towards the fallen men in the alley again, and then lighting it up with their powerful torches. ”Keep down! Stay down! Put your hands behind your heads!” the two cops repeated, their aggressive voices booming, the order barked as they descended on the scene that Shade had left behind; the aftermath of her violent deliverance, and the destruction she had wrought upon the criminals and their operation.

Shade watched as the cops checked the two guys on the floor, rolling them over onto their stomachs, seemingly searching them for weapons. Were they “good cops” after all? Was is just a ruse? Shade had little choice to challenge them either way, little option to take them on; dirty cops had protection from above, they were not the types of enemies that anyone made lightly. She had only one play left, only one thing she could do to try and bring down a response which would stop things going south. With that she started to climb, up towards the roof, up towards the ledge from where the violence had begun. She moved quietly, with purpose and a plan, scaling flight after flight of cold metal, no longer caring much for the action beneath her feet on the alley floor. As she reached the top she looked around for anything that might help her, a brick, anything… finding some loose piping beneath an abandoned old heater and pulling it free from it’s concrete standee, the heavy steel pipe about perfect for her needs.

“Here you go boys” Shade called, running towards the front of the building, launching her metal pole through the air towards the upper windows of the large bank across the alley. It was going to make one hell of a noise… and set off an alarm which would bring the cavalry swarming...

 

[Black_Out]

Shades mocking call from high above the alleyway caught the attentions of the pair of crooked cops, stopping them dead in their tracks as they looked upward between the narrow empty space between the two buildings. When the pipe cracked the office window on the upper floors of the bank the duo flinched and their lips curled in dismay as the glass showered down along with the pipe that clanged and clattered loudly against the surface of the street. Brubaker looked near ready to panic as his feet pivoted and he looked about with wild uncertainty as curses spilled out of his mouth. Hall seemed briefly lost in thought as he just gazed skyward towards the area where the female voice had tauntingly pierced the quiet. He was the first to move with any purpose.

His hand reached out and grabbed hold of Brubaker by his bicep. The veteran cop tugged the rookie close to him and whispered directly in his ear. Immediately Brubaker nodded and darted to the back of the van, collecting the last few duffel bags that were stuffed full of drugs. He scampered across the alley, tossed the bags at the back of their cop car and opened the trunk. Duffel bags were soon tossed inside the trunk of the cruiser while Hall brought over the closed brief case from the sedan and added it to the contents.

Another brief word was shared between Hall and his understudy who nodded once then quickly moved back into action. He rushed over to Finnegan, grabbing the badly beaten criminal up beneath his arms and dragged him across the alleyway before tossing him without much care into the back of the cargo van. As the rear doors were slammed shut by Brubaker, Hall was dragging a red gasoline container out of the back of their cruiser. He stomped over to the sleek dark sedan and began to douse it with the flammable fluid. Pouring it over the hood, splashing it inside the open doors, and then tossing the container in the backseat of the car.

The drivers side door of the brown dingy van slammed shut, tires squealed as the engine revved as Brubaker drove the van down the narrow alleyway towards the parallel running street that bled out of the alleyway on the other side of the block. As the van peeled out, Hall was leaning down by one of the barely conscious henchmen. His gloved hand flicked a lighter and the resulting spark of flame lit a cigarette that dangled from his worn lips. As he took a deep drag he leaned over and swept up a discarded pistol while smoke rolled out of his mouth.

Without any hint of hesitation or remorse he put a bullet through his head. Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, five shots in all were fired in quick succession as Hall stepped to each wounded thug and made sure there were no loose ends to speak of left behind. He moved quickly, flicking the barely smoked cigarette into the gasoline soaked interior of the car as he passed by it. The flames erupted, quickly coating the rich sedan in their vibrant orange and yellow glow as the vehicle began to burn. Hall hurried, ran to the drivers side door of the cruiser, hoped inside and slammed the door shut.

The tires spun and then the dark blue and black cruiser sped off down the roadway, turning down a side street and firing off into the night. He had to meet Brubaker, and soon, but just in case that heroine, Shade was thinking of following him he made sure to zig and zag his way across the roads of Empire City, hoping to loose her if she did try to trail him.