Nighttime Hunting [IC]

[Derin]

November 9, 2011

Southside

Helen knocked gently on Annabelle's door. "Sweetie?"

"Wait a minute!" There was a sound of activity, then Anna said, "Come in!" Helen opened the door to see her daughter sitting cross-legged on her bed, sparkly pink diary clutched to her chest with both hands. A plastic pen with a fluffy pink end dangled from her fingers, as she glared suspiciously at her mother. Not for the first time, Helen wondered what had gotten into her recently. Probably a crush. Still, would it be wrong to sneak a look at that diary?

"I'm just here to check the window."

"I know how to lock a window, Mum."

"I know, sweetie." Nevertheless, Helen crossed the room and brushed her fingers over the latch, checking that all three locks and the alarm wire were in place.

"Can Cindy come over tomorrow night?"

"Can't she come over Friday night instead?"

"No, Cathy's party is Friday."

"Right." Helen made a mental note to buy Cathy a present. Was she the one that liked ponies or the one that liked jewellery? "You know the rule about having friends over when I'm not here."

"I can trust my friends, Mum!"

"Do their parents want them here without adult supervision?" When Anna was silent, she continued, "Alright then. I need you in bed by nine, and I'll see you in the morning."

"After you're finished stealing, you mean?"

"We've talked about this, Anna. I'm a cleaner now. Crime is behind me."

"If you were really cleaning all night we'd make a lot more money. I worked it out."

Helen stared at her daughter. Were ten-year-olds supposed to be that wily? "Good night, sweetie," she said bluntly, closing the door behind her. There was no time to have an argument. she needed to get to work.

[Derin]

I should tell her.

It wasn't the first time Helen had debated the issue, and it wouldn't be the last. She leaned into a corner on her motorbike, hoping she wasn't late. Her daughter was ten. That was too young. Too young to keep a secret, and too young to be burdened. The secret was important. Better she remained ignorant until she was sixteen, like Helen had planned. Sixteen was old enough.

But the girl was sharp. She thought, as did Helen's sister, that Helen was a thief. That she'd come right out of her jail sentence for cat burglary and went back to crime. Could she live with her daughter thinking she was betraying her every night for six years? And what if the girl tried to investigate deeper, tried to follow her or something? She might put herself in danger. Helen couldn't live with that.

No, the danger was far greater if her secret got out. What Anna or even Jenny thought right now wasn't important. Anna had to be protected until she was old enough to understand. Until she was sixteen. Helen could hold on until she was sixteen.

Helen went to work. She vaccumed. She made small talk with the other cleaners. She swapped stories with the other mothers and tried to ignore the supervisor who, fully aware of her past, always watched her very closely to make sure she didn't take anything. Helen was vaguely offended by that; she had been a master thief, not some opportunistic snatcher of paperweights. And the whole time, she felt the weight of the small pack that she refused to put down; the pack containing the cape and mask of Whiplash.

[Derin]

After work, Helen bid her workmates goodbye, jumped on her motorcycle and headed for home. About a block away from her house, she turned into an alley and found her normal seculded corner. She wore most of her costume underneath her uniform, and adding the rest of it took very little time. She tightened her belt, adjusted her wig, and stepped out of the shadows.

Whiplash scaled the side of the building next to her with practised ease. It was her alley, her wall -- she could've done it blindfolded. Which was a good thing, considering the darkness. Once on the roof, she marked the direction of home, and began to run.

Finding her way home from the rooftops wasn't a problem for Whiplash. It was a practised route by now, and it was easier to navigate from rooftops than roads. Her feet never slipped as she sailed between rooftops, each landing barely a break in stride. Once above her own apartment, she carefully lowered herself to peek into Anna's window. The girl was sleeping peacefully in her own world of nauseating pink and glitter. Whiplash pulled herself back onto the roof, took a moment to catch her breath, and sighted the next roof. Right. Time to go to work. Time for her second night job.

And she knew exactly where to start.

[Derin]

Whiplash headed to a dilapidated part of town that was depressingly close to her own home. She knew, based on several nights' survaillance, that there was a drug dealer in the area, but she was yet to pinpoint their exact location. They could be holed up in any number of dilapidated, poorly lit houses. If she wanted to wrap the situation up fast, it was time for a direct approach.

She'd been waiting barely an hour before she spotted a young couple stumbling down the road and giggling. She'd seen them in the area before, and last time she'd managed to spy the cocaine as the young man handed it to his date. It wasn't hard to tell that they'd come back for more. At least they didn't look to be high, yet. Whiplash slipped from the roof about a block away from them and quietly crept up behind.

The whip caught the man entirely by surprise as it whipped around his body, entrapping him. The woman screamed, startled, as the man swore and struggled to see what had caught him.

“Where did you buy them?†Whiplash growled in his ear, loud enough for them both to hear her.

“What?â€

“The drugs!†Whiplash tightened the whip around him, eliciting a groan. “I could spend all night out here playing with you, but I’m rather more interested in who sold you the junk burning a hole in your pocket. So if you tell me where they are, I’ll go away.â€

“It’s from that little house with the red door just off Kissinger street!†the woman gasped, glancing from Whiplash to her date. “Now let him go!â€

“I don’t suppose you have a lightly more precise address?â€

“I don’t know! I don’t know what the address is!â€

Whiplash sighed. “Fine. But listen up. I don’t care what you do to your own bodies, but when you go around buying this sh*t off people with home chemistry labs, you’re giving money to people who hurt and kill. You’re supporting violent industries, encouraging future death and danger to innocent bystanders, and I can’t tolerate that. If I catch you funding these crooks in my neighbourhood again, I won’t be lenient. Understand me?†She released the man from her whip with one deft movement, and the pair took off down the street without even stopping to answer. Would they listen? Maybe. More likely they’d just find somewhere else to get their drugs.

A house with a red door just off Kissinger street. It wasn’t an address, but she already knew the general area. She’d worked with worse leads before.

[Derin]

Finding the red-doored house wasn't difficult, even from the rooftops. She lowered herself to street level, crept around the back, and started to look for a way in. Three doors. She noted them but dismissed them as entry points. Windows were sealed shut and hidden behind heavy curtains do disguise the nefarious activities within. That was good, she supposed, but she'd have to break one to get into the building. Unless... there might be roof access.

Whiplash put on her sonic goggles, blocking out her own sight entirely. She switched them on and the world jumped into view once more, a clear image built of ultrasonic echoes the chouldn't hear. The darkness had no effect on her sonic sight. Front door... how could she jam the front door?

There were some old logs used as borders for the overgrown garden. Carefully, she pried one up and carried it over to the door. The door was in a depression, It was a simple matter to wedge it between the door and the wall at right-angles to said door. Would it hold? Against panicking drug dealers, certainly.

Side door. She wedged a big rock from the garden against it. The back door had no gardens immediately around it, but it did have some rusted guttering above. Should she go back round the front for another log, or just rip down the guttering? Would that make too much noise?

She was contemplating the issue when somebody shouted from inside. "Who locked the f--ing door?"

Dammit.

Well, that decided her entry point. Whiplash threw open the back door and tossed in a smoke grenade.

[Derin]

Whiplash crept through the door, offering a silent prayer that it wouldn't squeak. It didn't. Even if it had, it probably wouldn't have been noticeable over the sound of somebody swearing loudly as they frantically rattled the front door.

Whoever was in charge, though, had kept their heads. "Everybody silent, no guns!" he shouted. "We go for the back door, and whatever you do, nobody break anything!"

Whiplash's goggles let her "see" through the smoke as if it wasn't there. It seemed like the front room was a combined kitchen and lounge. She saw a weedy, nervous-looking man at the front door stop rattling the handle and begin edging his way around the room. She saw a muscled, bald man draw a baton from his belt and try to squint through the smoke. She saw a man crouch under the table in the middle of the room, drawing a gun against his boss's orders. The man who had spoken said orders felt for a long knife on the table, found it, and picked it up. He then backed slowly against the wall.

The table itself was piled high with glassware, pans and various chemicals that Whiplash assumed to be vital to making illegal drugs. She didn't know what they were, or particularly care. Her sonic goggles showed the outline of boxes and bottles, but couldn't read the labels.

Dangers. The gunman, he'd panic. The knife... stay away from the knife. The baton. The other idiot was just looking for an exit; he could be ignored. Whiplash crept towards the table, edged to one side of the man crouched underneath it, and jammed her stun gun into the base of his skull.

The man twitched under the jolt, cursed, and shot wildly, missing Whiplash entirely.

"What'd I tell you about guns, Brick?!" the leader roared.

"He's on me! The bastard's on me!"

With that, the knife-wielding leader and baton-wielding goon advanced on the table.

Brilliant.

[Derin]

The knife slashed viciously at the air half a foot from Whiplash. The man with the baton was on the wrong side of the table entirely; his swing knocked several pans to the floor.

"Careful, you moron!" his boss roared. "Everyone out!"

Whiplash looped her whip around the man's knife and tore it from his hand. He punched at the area her attack came from as he ran past; she dodged it easily. The trigger-happy goon, apparently deciding that bullets were not a good idea in complete darkness, crawled out from under the table. The baton-wielding man headed for the door with his boss, but the gun-wielding goon had barely stood up when Whiplash jammed her stun gun into the base of his skull and he fell, unconscious.

The two fleeing men felt for the back door. Within seconds they'd be in the open, free of her smoke. At least she'd taken out the gunman. While they opened the door and ran outside, she paused to strip off the unconscious man's shirt, drag him over to the sink and tie his hands around the drainpipe, behind his back so that he couldn't work the knots with his teeth. It wouldn't hold forever, but it would do.

[Derin]

By the time Whiplash had finished tying up the man, the others had all escaped. She took the man's phone, dialled 911 to call for police and an ambulance, left it on the table just out of his reach and left. Tracking down the others would be next to impossible, but she had to try.

She'd barely snuck out the door when she heard the gunshot, and found herself knocked back inside.

The gunman! How had she forgotten the gunman that had fled so quickly?! Stupid! She was bleeding. Unable to concentrate. And she'd fallen over.

The man she'd knocked unconscious groaned and stirred. Brilliant. Things just kept looking up. She dragged herself under the table and paused to "look" at her injuries. It was a little difficult to see blood with her sonic goggles, but she could feel the stabbing pain in her shoulder. Hopefully it wasn't permanently damaging.

The man started shouting and struggling. She ignored him. Perhaps the others had left. Perhaps she could simply wait for the police.

Then she heard them stumbling around outside. And the crackling of flames. They were setting the building on fire!

[Cube]

Meanwhile...

Southside wasn't Lou's usual haunt, not by any means. But things were slow Downtown that evening, and Lou needed to be somewhere. It was becoming a nightly routine for him, fighting crime. One he relished every moment of.

But today, at least for the moment, everything seemed quiet here as well. No muggings, no robberies...

Lou was just about to turn back when the smell of smoke hit his nostrils. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there. His attention was immediately drawn to a rising plume of acrid smoke rising into the night sky.

"...Just when I thought it was going to be an uneventful evening."

[Derin]

The man that Whiplash had tied up seemed to be on the verge of panic. He still couldn't see, but he could hear the fire and smell the smoke. He shouted for help and tugged at his bonds.

"Shut up!" Whiplash cried. "Stop moving and I'll untie you, but if you even think of fighting me, I'll leave you here for the flames."

The man froze, staring in the direction of her voice. Thankfully, the smoke hid her from him, and if she was very careful, he might not ever find out that she was injured. She crawled over to him, trying not to jar her shoulder.

They could feel the heat of the fire by the time she made it to him. The smoke wasn't strong enough to make her choke, yet, but Whiplash knew that once the chemicals on the table ignited, there was no knowing what would be in the air. She couldn't see the flames through her sonic goggles, but she could tell from the heat and the sounds that they weren't in immediate danger of being engulfed. Probably. The smoke was a bigger problem.

She warned him again to remain still and quickly worked the knots with her ununjured arm. "Don't run out in a panic, you can't see anything," she told him. "Let me get you out of here safely." She couldn't see much either, but she could see a lot more than he could.

As soon as the man was free, her gripped her arm -- her good arm, fortunately -- and hissed, "What now?!"

"Will your buddies," Whiplash asked, "be waiting for us outside?"

He seemed to think about that. Whiplash figured that he was probably more annoyed at them than her. She'd knocked him out and was saving his life; they had tried to burn him to death. "They'll retreat through back gardens, but if any part of the house isn't watched it'd be the front," he said.

"Then that's where we go." If the smoke and fire didn't get them first. The building was an inferno now, or at least it seemed so from the inside. Blistering heat told her that the flames were close. But she didn't know if she could run without passing out.

There is no way we're getting out of here on our own. We need a miracle. And to think, the fire department was the one emergency service she hadn't called.

[Cube]

Pyre wasted no time leaping into action. It only took about three good leaps to get to his target. A house with a red door on Kissinger street that wouldn't be a house for much longer. It was an inferno. Pyre leapt from his rooftop perch, leaving a neat crater in the sidewalk where he landed.

'Alright... flaming building. No problem...'

Without wasting a moment, Pyre marched into the inferno. He was only vaguely aware of the scorching heat, as he ripped the red door off of it's hinges and marched through the wall of smoke and flame.

"Is anyone here?!" he shouted, as he tried to see through the blaze.

[Derin]

Yes, a miracle!

"Help!" Whiplash called, although she needn't have bothered; the man gripping her arm was doing enough shouting for the both of them. The figure in the doorway looked... familiar, but she didn't bother trying to place it; she just headed towards the strange apparition, guiding the man around the table and towards the door. If anything, being able to tell where objects were made the fire harder to see; it was the man on her arm that pushed her around what she assumed must be fire as they stumbled forward thgough the mixture of artificial and fire-created smoke. Whiplash tried no to breathe more than she had to.

"There are two of us in here. I'm injured. This other idiot looks fine though."

[Cube]

People... at least two of them. One of them sounded like he was in a complete panic. The other... well, the smoke wasn't doing her any favors.

'Alright... Can't see a damn thing in here...' Pyre focused his thoughts on the flames, as the raging inferno seemed to slow. Like Moses parting the red sea, Pyre cleared a path through the flames to try and guide the voices to safety.

The smoke, however, posed a problem. Normally, Pyre could clear the smoke away with a wave of his hand, but this was persistent. 'Damn... something else must have made some of this smoke... I can't get rid of it!'

Still... two people were in there, and one was injured. He couldn't just leave them!

"Alright!" he shouted. "I'm coming in after you! Just follow the sound of my voice!"

[Derin]

"I can see you just fine," Whiplash called. "I just can't see the fire and smoke..." although the heat had lessened, now, and she seemed to be able to breathe. "Did you do something to the fire?" She cautiously stepped forward. The man released her arm and ran toward the door, stumbling over some debris in the process. Apparently her vision-obscuring smoke was still around. She didn't run; she wasn't sure that she could. Instead she carefully walked toward the door.

Her rescuer was definitely familiar. She recognised the face quite clearly from the comics her daughter pretended not to read and hid behind her doll collection. She had been rescued by Lord Pyre.

"I think," she said, "that I might be hallucinating. Tell me if you hear an ambulance siren, ok?"

[Cube]

Pyre caught the fleeing man with a spare arm before he faceplanted into a pile of still smoldering debris. "Er... yeah. It's a long story." He said, as he held out a massive red mitt to the approaching woman. She seemed to be dressed in some sort of cowl... probably another cape.

...Of course, the statement about her hallucinating was... not comforting, but panic in the middle of an inferno was the exact opposite of what he wanted right now.

"I'll let you know if I hear anything, but hurry! This thing is an inferno and there's no way I can hold off all of it at once."

[Derin]

Whiplash grabbed the man's giant arm with her good hand, trying not to lean on him too much. She just wanted to sleep. No, to pass out. That was what she wanted to do. "Right. Let's go. There's nobody else inside. There were hostiles outside, but I'm pretty sure they would've run off after starting the fire. And seeing you." She looked at the other man in his grip. "That man is a criminal who tried to kill me. I'd be much obliged if you didn't let him run off anywhere." Remain standing. Try to hold onto at least some of your dignity.

[Cube]

Pyre could feel the fatigue in her grip. "I won't let him go, but we need to get you to a hospital. You're hurt..."

Careful not to take too much of the woman's weight, Pyre carefully retraced his steps to the door, clearing a path through the flames that raged around them. Bits of the roof and ceiling collapsed behind them as he fought his way through the inferno, before finally finding solace in the cool night air. Plumes of vile smoke rose into the night sky as Pyre and Whiplash finally escaped the inferno, finding fresh air once more.

[Derin]

"It's just a gunshot wound," Whiplash said, "I don't... I don't think it's immediately dangerous. I've already called an ambulance and police for this idiot. Once the police get him, I won't be able to get much out of him, but I need to know whether he's part of a larger ring. And where I can find his friends. Although I'm not sure if 'friend' is the correct term for somebody who tries to burn you to death." She glared at the man. "And he's going to be nice and cooperative, isn't he?" Away from the burning building, she sat down on the sidewalk. Stay awake. She could pass out in the ambulance.

[Cube]

Now that they were out of the inferno, the poor, maligned thug could finally get a good look at him. Pyre glared at the man as he set him on the grass. "I'm sure he will." For a brief, fleeting moment, Pyre looked every bit the demonic overlord his comic persona was designed to be. "He'll tell you everything you need to know, and he won't. move."

His demeanor softened almost instantly when he looked back to Whiplash, however.

"It's not just the bullet wound I'm worried about. The smoke was crazy thick in here, and dealing with blood loss and smoke inhalation sounds like a horrible idea to me."

[Derin]

Whiplash waved his concern away and winced at the jolt of pain in her shoulder. "Most of the smoke was just a sight-concealing grenade, it doesn't interfere with breathing enough to worry about. The fire smoke... well, I'm sure if it was going to kill me it already would have." She pulled up her sonic goggles, looking at the Lord-Pyre-style superhero and the goon for the first time. "Alright, who do you work for? Who's in charge?"

"Jerry... Jerry Singer. He was in the building."

"The man giving the orders. Who does he work for?"

"Nobody, I don't think. I don't know!"

"You sure?"

"I don't know anything!"

Whiplash swore under her breath. A random independent group. They'd be back to cooking the stuff in a couple of weeks and she'd have to track the whole lot down again. At least this one might have some jail time.

"Where does Jerry Singer live?"

The man glanced back at the burning house.

"He was cooking this up in his own house?" Whiplash shook her head. "Alright. Fine. But remember this: I did everything I could not to hurt you, and you tried to kill me. If I ever encounter you on the wrong side of a crime again, I'll return the favour." The man nodded desperately, but Whiplash had the feeling that that had more to do with the giant, demonic presence that she herself had the urge to run blindly from, than her own charisma. He was really stealing her thunder. She'd be resentful if she was in any condition to be intimidating on her own.

"I'm Whiplash, by the way," she said to the superhero, "and thanks for the rescue."

[Cube]

"I'm Pyre." he said. "It's really no problem. I was just glad I happened to be around tonight."

He seemed kind of embarrassed by the man's reaction.

"As for your 'friend'..." He glared at the thug. "Do you have any idea where your boss would be hiding out after all of this? No one is stupid enough to burn their base down without a backup plan."

Once again, his expression immediately softened when he looked back toward Whiplash. "I drew a comic about something like this once. The bad guy never abandons his only base. He's got to have a back up somewhere."

[Derin]

The man swallowed, his eyes not leaving Pyre's face. "His cousin's," he said. "43 Harlowe st."

"Do any children live there?"

"I don't know!"

Whiplash sighed. It was a problem for later. And so was explaining a bullet wound to her daughter. She could probably just... wrap it in bandages, say it was a motorcycle accident. Or something.

She could hear sirens in the distance. Ambulance and police. Good. "Alright. We can deal with that... later, I guess." 43 Harlowe st. She didn't know the address, but it shouldn't be hard to find. And she could deal with it in a way that didn't involve getting shot. Maybe the man would even tell the police. That's save her a lot of work.

[Cube]

"Thought so." said Pyre, looking satisfied at the goon's answer.

Pyre looked back toward Whiplash. "...I'm glad you're alright. I always worry when I stumble upon a fire. Especially one like that." He offered her a hand. "Kind of new to this whole superhero business, really..."

He looked up as he heard the sound of approaching sirens. "... I just hope they don't assume that I set this one. I've got kind of a reputation, you know?" he shrugged. "Ever since I got turned into this. ...You'll vouch for me, right?"

[Derin]

Whiplash nodded. "I'm a bit new to this myself. I'm sure they won't freak out, though..." Maybe.

A single police car rounded the corner, followed by an ambulance. "Hold onto the criminal. I'll make sure nobody does anything stupid." She stood up and walked slowly toward the police car, hands spread, making sure she stood between the police getting out and Pyre. "Hi. I'm Whiplash," she said without preamble. "That large and imposing gentleman over there is a hero, he rescued myself and that other man from a housefire. The more normal-looking gentleman is a drug dealer who tried to kill me. He had three associates but I believe they have left. Excuse me, I need medical attention." She headed over to the ambulance, whose crew seemed reluctant to approach Pyre without the police.

[Cube]

Pyre placed a firm hand on the dealers shoulder as he waved at the police officers. "Hey. Wouldn't stand too close to that building. The fumes in there are nasty." The police seemed skeptical, but... well, Pyre was used to skepticism by now. Especially this far from his home turf.

"...Would it be okay if I went with her to the hospital?" he asked, nodding toward Whiplash. "I wanna make sure she's alright. ...Oh, also." Pyre released the dealer from his grasp. The poor man rushed toward the the relative safety of the police, his discomfort with Pyre's presence very apparent.