End of the Sabbath, Beginning of Another Night

[Edward Reed]

Reed didn’t like it, but another part of him that settled into the foreground of the vigilante’s mind respected the intimacy of sharing that moment of masks. What made them dress in separate rooms, other then it being the right thing to do, but save the very last detail that hid their existence from the world? Even after the years, he still couldn’t fight the discomfort. He even had a dream once where the shapeless mask took form and talked to him, begging him to sew it to his face so that they would be apart again. Edward woke up in a cold sweat on Annabel’s couch, a pillow torn in half with its remains scattered about him as if he was a savage beast. He had left the room in shambles, bolting for the safety of the night and the cool air helped dry the sweat and odd tears that clung to his eyelashes. When he returned in the evening, the mess had been cleaned up and there as no mention of the gutted pillow.

"Of course, forgive me."

“Not needed.” The slight inflection of his voice could easily be missed but it was as close to tender as Reed could manage. It was time to be solid and strong, any weakness shown in the face of the enemy would be devoured. Carefully pulling the truck into a secure parking place, he cut the engine and the silence waned under the click of the back window being opened. Reed slid from the truck and closed the door with a brush of his hip, leaning into it to close quietly rather then slamming and tucked his hands into his coat pockets. He stepped into the street and his partner took her rightful place beside him and the evening’s events faded from memory and were replaced with the building revulsion of the lewd music that filtered behind the club’s door and the degraded bodies worn and weathered by alcohol and drugs, sliding against each other. Behind the mask, Reed scowled darkly and didn’t hear the towering men’s voices until Shimrith spoke.

He stepped casually out of the way as a meaty fist sailed at his head and ducked as it was followed with right hook. Reed slid his hands from his pocket and curled away from another punch that glanced off his shoulder and he took the opening needed. The short man delivered one well placed strike to the bouncer’s sternum and brought his fist down on the bent head and kneed the stranger in the chest as he leaned forward. The man slammed against the wall and gasped for air, shock evident in his wide eyes. However, he was a big man and it took more then a pipsqueak to take him down. Towering over Reed, he threw his weight into tackling the masked individual and the vigilante stuck his leg out and kicked at the man’s ankle as his balance was off centered. The bouncer belly flopped and just missed smashing his teeth on the curb with a jolting stop of his arms protecting his face. The man raised his head just as a boot slammed on his back, forcing him to kiss the sidewalk until he tasted blood against shredded lips.

“Looking for Julie,” Reed growled from behind his mask and his boot slid to the back of the man’s neck and applied pressure causing the bouncer to grunt and squirm.

“Don’t know whatcha talkin’ about!”

Reed dropped to a knee and his hand replaced his boot and tangled into the short blond hair of the bouncer. The other caught an arm and twisted it painfully behind his back, holding nothing but a thumb. He ripped the man’s head up arching it painfully, “Julie.” and smashed his head down, grinding it into the pavement. Reed brought it back up and blood coated the man’s brow, nose and mouth as he sucked in air.

“She aint in man!”

Reed repeated the action, shoving just hard enough to grate skin from flesh. He twisted the man’s thumb sharply and heard the satisfying pop of it dislocating and yanked the man’s head up again. “Won’t repeat self.”

“Office,” the bouncer wheezed, his bloodied face screwing up in agony. “Up,” he gasped. “Up the, ughn, stairs. Second… left!” The mask remained impassive to the struggling man beneath him and when it seemed as though he wouldn’t let go, Edward made himself. Reed slammed the man’s head down one last time and released the still form and rose to his feet to look at his partner. At his feet the bigger man moaned and his body seemed to move on it’s own accord, thrashing slowly to drag himself away.

“Locked?”

The bouncer flinched and raised a hand to block any attacks. “No,” he spat out and anger washed over him, drowning out the wave of pain. He followed his answer with a bloodied loogie on Reed’s shoes but he was already moving on, using the man’s back as a stepping stone and stepped on and over before moving to the entrance. He took lead and stepped through and down the few steps into the sunken down basement and entered into the underworld of perversion.

Music swelled from the speakers to the point of crackling, setting the air on fire as strobe lights lit up the movement of bodies in various degrees of an undressed state. Women danced atop a small stage, hands on hip and breasts and more people moved about gyrating against each other on the dance floor. Smoke hazed the air, chocking out the stench of sweat and adulterous affairs. To the left were several booths filled with sinful pleasures and acts, drugs being passed around as candy and to the right a large bar lined the entire wall while a inconspicuous set of stairs even further back lead to the second floor.

[Annabel Caldwell]

If Annabel had been standing and watching Reed grind the man's face against the street like it was a dull knife against a whetstone, she would have at least cringed. Shimrith, on the other hand, watched with crossed arms as the man's face was torn against the pavement. The ruddy color of his blood and some of his skin was smeared macabrely on the ground, to be washed off later maybe by more rain or a hose.

Shimrith followed her partner into the false club, skirting around the still-conscious, though badly beaten, bouncer. Immediately upon going into the basement entrance, Shimrith's nose wrinkled beneath her mask at the stink on sin that saturated the air. Shimirth's blue eyes moved behind the protection of her mask as she gazed at the disgusting recreations that were happening around her. Her stomach churned with distaste. A kind of snarl took place on her lips: it could only be read as revulsion. The world was spiraling downward ever faster, away from God's word, and because of that, dens like this were established where women were not only used, but sometimes beaten and killed. Part of it was their fault, but part of it was the world that sought such employment from women. These women should be home, in school, or even raising families. Shimrith's hands shook slightly, but she caught herself. There would be time later to take her fury out on the sinners who made this all possible.

She fell into step besides her partner and nodded towards the staircase. Just as she took one step towards it, a masculine voice spoke.

"Since when did they get a nun in here?" Wheezing laughter was heard, and then a second male voice.

"Kind of unorthodox, but I'm game. I thought nun's were suppose to wear a habit, not a mask."

"Maybe it's a cross kind of thing. You know, blindfolds and church. Hey Mother Superior, how much -- ?" Shimrith turned just in time to catch the man's hand before it would have gone up her skirt. He was balding, middle age, and the buttons of his shirt were strained from holding back his girth. The man sitting next to him was starved looking and bald. The bigger man smirked, but before he could say something, Shimrith tightened her grip. His eyes widened as she pried his fingers open and then bent them backwards -- Not gently, but sharply, so that a crunching sound was heard.

"Aaagggh!" The man cried. His bald friend's eyes went wide and he fell of the back of his stool. Shimrith grabbed some napkins from the table they sat at and stuffed them in the bigger man's mouth so the sound was muffled. "Don't you ever even think about touching a woman that way again." She hissed. And with that she jerked his fingers forward, causing a muffled gargle to issue from the man, and she punched him in the stomach.

Shimrith turned from the man, her mouth set into a straight line. She calmed herself inside -- She wasn't very skilled at controlling her emotions and being collected as her partner was -- or at least appeared to be. Her arms fell limply at her side as she fell into step next to Reed once more.

[Edward Reed]

In the dark underworld of sin and debauchery, their entrance initially went unnoticed. Empty souls in walking corpses slinked about, stalking the club like wallowing beasts grasping pleasure in filth. Reed himself stared back, the unmovable mask his face to the accumulated immorality. It was exactly as he pictured it and it was revolting. A young girl that couldn’t have been any older then a high schooler waltzed over to the couple from the bar and tottered once on her heels as if she wasn’t used to them. She ran a hand through the strawberry blond wig and tugged on her obscenely short skirt and smiled a hollow smile. “Hey baby,” he young voice cooed. “I’ve been waiting for you all night.” The man turned and in the hazy darkness she swore there wasn’t a face to greet her as she laid a hand on the man’s arm just as his female companion turned towards a busy handed client.

Reed recoiled from the touch on his arm, drawing it back and balled his fist as if he meant to strike whomever touched him and he stopped at the streaked makeup that ran like tears down her cheeks. She stood there like a doll, a dull impassiveness to her features as if she was miles away and swayed again. The man ran a gloved hand across his arm where she had touched him as if to rub off the invisible grime she left behind.

“Public indecency, lewd conduct,” Reed leaned forward and sniffed, though it was unnecessary to miss the vodka on the youngsters breath. “Underage drinking.” He growled. “Very bad.” The man reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a length of twin that had been bundled carefully. He grabbed the girl’s forearm and yanked her forcefully with him towards the bar.

“Hey, what!” The girl struggled against the vice like grip on her arm and she smacked Reed fruitlessly as she was hauled to a bolted down stool and tied to it, the twine wrapped tightly around her wrists. She wrenched herself as soon as the man knotted the last cording and he stepped back. That would hold the girl until they came back, he thought. Just because they were going after the whore that ran the establishment didn’t mean they would ignore the rest.

“Stay!” The command was barked and the girl squeaked and she swiveled as far away from him as she could and looked to the lone bartender that was wiping out a glass. He stood transfixed on the weirdo and the girl and looked up when the masked man faced him. The bartender raised his hands in defense, glass and towel hanging from limp fingers and took a step back when Reed stepped closer to him and reached for a shot glass. Without pausing, he picked it up, turned and hurled it across the room and it collided in a shatter of broken glass against the forehead of the companion of the man that Shimrith had taken down. He had stood and was ready to bolt until the glass smashed into his face and was knocked backwards into another table, flipping it.

A few heads turned, a couple laughed raucously but no one rushed forward to defend the injured men. No one cared. Reed made a vague nod at his partner and he took lead to the stairway. There was no need for words at this time, they took care of the trouble they ran into and soldiered on. Shimrith, his equal, dutifully capable, they could separate and break away and come back together in unison and fit. They however needed to move fast, Reed didn’t trust the bartender to keep his mouth shut and eyed him as they passed him as he set his hands on the bar and fingers itched for the shot gun beneath it, wedged in with glasses and bottles. Reed shook a finger at him and whatever sanity reached him, the bartender returned his hands to the air as they passed and moved up the stairs.

Reed slid up the stairs, leaning close to the wall and made sure he was in front of his partner. At the top of a stairs a figure loomed, haloed by the flickering florescent light above them.

[Annabel Caldwell]

The shattering of glass caused Shimrith to look behind her, and a smile danced on her lips as she saw her assailant's friend wheel backwards from the impact of the blow to the head. One of the wonderful things about Reed's fighting style was that he could be everywhere at once, it seemed, and yet be standing still. He always had her back, and she tried to do the same for him. Shimrith's veiled eyes danced upon the young girl that Reed had apprehended, and the familiar sinking feeling that she felt whenever she looked upon the women in this pit was back once more. Well they were about to confront the wretched woman that was responsible for most, if not all, of this.

Shimrith's hand tightened around the handle of her blackjack as she followed Reed up the stairs, mindful for anyone who may come up the back way, or any conversation that would set off red flags in her head. The leather-wrapped lead weight creaked under the pressure of her grip. She saw the figure looming ahead. Reed was in the lead of course, which would put him into danger's way first. Shimrith admired the possible chivalry of him putting himself first, but this time, she'd try and at least strike the first blow. They needed to move quickly, after all. Reed wasn't the only one who noticed the cogs in the bartender's head turning.

A quick look over her shoulder told her that no one had come up the stairs after them...yet. Shimrith pulled the lanyard from with the blackjack hung from its place and arched her arm backwards as they approached the top of the stairs and the figure turned towards him. She threw her blackjack and watched as it arched forward, spinning past Reed's head and coming into contact with the figure's nose. The figure groaned and lurched forward, blood immediately spotting the floor on which it stood.

[Edward Reed]

Reed stared up at the lone figure blocking their path and it was immediate that he wasn’t going to let them pass. The dull smack of his fist hit his open hand in a display of eagerness to break the two masked weirdoes on the stairs. He smiled a mouthful of crooked and yellowed teeth just as a blur of movement smashed into his face. He instantly crumbled into a groaning mass and the vigilante lurched up the last few steps before he could topple over. Reed grabbed the man’s shirt and hauled him up and another hand rested against the man’s stomach as he twisted slightly to plant himself firmly on the steps.

“Move,” he whispered harshly to Shimrith, though the anger of it was not directed at his partner. In the same instant he grunted as he used the man’s tottering leverage against him and with one quick swoop picked and tossed the man down the stairway, his struggled cry ended when he hit the steps and rolled down the rest of them like a broken slinky. The strain of the man’s weight seemed to have no ill affect towards him, but he would deal with the pains later. They had just begun and there was no room for weakness. Reed took a shallow breath as if he didn’t want to breath the filthy air too deeply and cocked his head at the oddly silent second floor.

The hallway stretched and broke into a simply labyrinth of closed doors. The man growled, a low guttural sound in the back of his throat and he took a step towards them intending to break every one of them down and haul the perversions out of their whore beds. Instead he swiveled on his feet and raised a boot and with one well aimed kick, knocked the second door on the left in. It snapped open and banged against it’s door jam and before them sat a large woman with far too little clothing to cover the swell of her breasts and stomach. She lounged at the singular desk across the room, one stiletto heeled boot perched on the edge of the desk as she leaned back to allow the tall muscular man beside her to light her cigarette held in a skinny holder.

Under the harsh glow of the lights above her overly caked makeup and bleached hair, the duo couldn’t miss her eyes widen and gaudy painted lips tighten around the cigarette holder. She took in the masked man who looked more like a flasher then hero then the masked woman beside him, her clothing strange in a business where skin sold. She tried to play off the recognition of either of them and blew a lazy smoke ring before cautiously crossing her legs as far as she was able to. The faint sound of jazz sighed through raspy speakers and a man keened on about the loss of his woman and dog. The man beside her straightened and narrowed shallow and sunken eyes at the pair but his stance was relaxed and waiting. Reed swallowed against the tightness of his mask and made a casual glance at Shimrith to see where she stood. He was content to stand there in silence, glaring from the faceless mask until Julie leaned forward and took a sip from her scotch, the ice tinkling against itself.

“Brutus?” She asked in lieu of her other security’s whereabouts.

“Downstairs,” Reed grumbled. “Wrong choice of establishment, Julie.”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Hesitantly she took her eyes off the man and glanced at the woman, eyeing her up and down. “Or you? I’d think I’d remember a pretty body like yours, no matter how much clothes you wear. Mama can tell a looker.”

The awful sound escaped Reed before he could reign in it, the unrestrained snarl. “Do not look at her!” He snapped his mouth closed and tasted blood where he bite of he tip of his tongue.

[Annabel Caldwell]

The blackjack made a heavy 'thunk' noise as it hit the landing, and then a 'duh-duh-duh-duh' noise as it tumbled end over end down the stairs. Shimrith smoothly caught the blackjack just as Reed spoke, and she moved past him and the man like a shadow. Her masked face turned back to watch as the man was thrown down the stairs, crumpling at the bottom. Shimrith immediately took a step forward, her grip tightening on her blackjack. Her eyes scanned the hallway ahead for anyone lurking in the shadows. A quick recon told that the man had been the only one, and with Reed once more by her side, Shimrith replaced her blackjack at her side.

The air seemed intent to choke Shimrith. She knew what happened up here: sex, lust, carnality, and all for money. Her chest was growing heavy and her stomach sour with the thought. She intentionally did her best not to hear any disgusting noise issuing from the rooms, and she was aided in her endeavor by Reed suddenly swiveling and kicking open a nearby door. Shimrith turned towards the room and surveyed the inhabitants.

Jackpot. Shimrith's mouth tightened into a thin line that just oozed her distaste for the brothel's madam before her. Disgusting. Loathsome. These were some of the words that came into her mind as she looked at the gaudy makeup, the revealing clothing, and the cigarette in its holder. Shimrith was slightly surprised at the woman's calm reaction to the fact that a masked man with a masked woman in tow just broke down her door -- But Shimrith supposed in her line of work that Julie saw many worse things.

“Do not look at her!”

She said nothing, but Shimrith deftly reached to Reed and grazed his elbow with her gloved hand, a soft and almost undetectable way of her saying, 'It's not ok, but don't worry.' The brief discussion between Julie and Reed made Shimrith stand just a little bit taller. She had no reason to blush or to withdraw, even though Julie's thoughts were made of nothing but evil. Shimrith knew that no one besides her mother in raising her had seen what lay underneath her clothes. Shimrith's gaze drifted to Reed and then back to Julie. And no one else, save it would be the husband that would probably never come, would. Julie was cheap and her only purpose in life was to exploit young women who would later exploit others, continuing a vicious circle. Shimrith's eyes narrowed behind her mask. She wouldn't even acknowledge the insult paid to her body.

"Arson. Fires. Bronx. Do these key words ring any bells, Julie?" She asked, cocking her head to the side. She kicked the door shut behind her and Reed and her hand strayed to her blackjack. "And please, don't spare any details."

[Edward Reed]

There was no doubt in the Reed’s mind when he kicked the door that the bouncer hadn’t lied to him. Pain made a weak man tell truths. The faint metallic taste of his blood was ignored and his focus was momentarily drawn to the delicate touch that he felt his through his coat and even when she moved away discreetly, the touch was still there. Almost casually he placed his hands in his pockets and tipped his head back to look past the brim of his hat. The hyena like laughed burned his ears and he narrowed his gaze on the woman at the shrill laughter that momentarily covered up her fear and the man beside her cracked his neck and remained in a dominate pose, attempting to intimidate them from afar. Reed knew he was going to take him down hard and he ran his tongue across his cracked lips to moisten them.

Julie coughed sharply and wheezed, the smoke she had inhaled rushing from her nose and mouth and she patted her bosom several times to clear her lungs. She quickly placed the cigarette back in her mouth and chewed on the tip before she jumped slightly when the door was shoved closed and Shimrith addressed her. She hide it by reaching for the glass of scotch and brought to her lips, leaving behind pink smudges. “Darling, everyone’s heard of the Bronx fires. They’re on the damn news every damn day. Now what the hell is this really about? I’m awful busy and I don’t –”

“No lies!”

Julie shrieked at the thundering voice that came from the short masked figure and nearly lost her balance in her chair. She glared daggers at the two and in one fell swoop finished off her scotch and slammed the glass down in front of her hard enough to rattle a jar of pens. “Look, I don’t know what the hell’s your kink but I don’t appreciate ya’lls coming into my establishment like this.” She leaned back in her chair angrily and it groaned in protest. It didn’t take a genius to realize that the two weren’t the normal kinky duo and there seemed to be more and more of the mask variety popping up in the news lately.

Reed hands came from his pockets in one fell swoop and instead of balled up fists he brandished a small notebook and a pencil. “Been watching you.” He knew he hadn’t told his partner of his findings but would deal with the reactions at a later date, if at all. “Sixteenth, nineteenth, twenty first, twenty fourth,” he listed last months dates in sequential and paused to gauge the reaction. He tipped his notebook to allow his partner to read he hastily written scribbles of the same group of men that visited her whorehouse when a new fire broke out.

[Annabel Caldwell]

Shimright's lips pursed into a thin line from Julie's poor attempt to conceal that she knew anything. That hacking and puffing of the cigarette smoke, and then her dismissing manner was like a sign written on her face that told that she knew something. Shimrith's gaze focused on the floor as Reed's forced thundered forth.

Julie's screech and the violent sounds from the glass and the chair afterward made Shimrith's pressed lips curve upwards into a small, grim smile. Her gaze looked back up to the madam, who seemed to be seething with self righteous indignation that shat did not belong to her.

"Been watching you."

This wasn't really surprising to Shimrith. She knew that Reed's daytime activities carried him all over the boroughs (his shoes did seem to wear out faster than his other clothing). Her eyes obligingly scanned the notebooks as Reed spoke the dates and the information the notebook held. "Well." She took three quick steps towards the desk, and when the man reacted, she cracked him in the face with the handle of her blackjack. "You already have carnality and adultery on your soul. Do you want this lie on it too?"

Two stories below in the alley, a shadowed figure wheeled what appeared to be a trash can in a metal cart down the alley. As it approached the backdoor, around which the overflowing trash cans were stacked, the figure pulled the lid off of the can and pulled several jugs from inside. The figure unscrewed the caps, and began sloshing what could be smelled to be a mixture of kerosene and gasoline on the trash and the door.

[Edward Reed]

His partner stepped forward and Reed flipped his notebook closed and stuffed it into the inside front pocket of his jacket for later use. The pencil sharpened to a deadly point remained in his hand and he threaded it through fingers before closing his fist around it. He eyed the tall man that now sported a bloody nose as he leaned forward, wincing in an attempt to stop the blood flow. The vigilante settled back into an deceptive easy pose with his weight leaning evenly across and he slowly reached up to pull the edge of his hat down, tightening the band across his brow.

“I…” Julie whipped her head between her now bleeding guard and then the masked couple. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! And,” her high voice cracked as she attempted to regain control and the same slick smile reappeared as she reached for the slim bottle of vodka, her trembling hands betraying her. “And… what would my fellow sisters think of you two barging in here.”

“Another lie.” Reed trained the soulless eyes of his mask back on Julie. The corners of his mouth twitched in discontentment. “Jezebels don’t want fat whores.”

Blowing blood from his nose, the bouncer wiped at what was left across his upper lip and cheek and glared at the woman with the club and sized her up. Stupid bitch. He was going to make sure she paid for that. Though his mistress hadn’t given him the word, he stepped forward and pulled a switchblade from the back of his pants and released the blade. The dull sheen of metal flashed in the low light and the old radio skipped a beat.

[Annabel Caldwell]

A sigh escaped from Shimrith's mouth, but she nodded in agreement with Reed's words. The desperation of this woman to hide what she knew when it was crystal clear that she was lying was grating to say the least. Shimrith looked the woman dead in the eye and quoted Psalms 52:2-4. "Thy tongue deviseth mischiefs; like a sharp razor, working deceitfully. Thou lovest evil more than good; and lying rather than to speak righteousness. Selah. Thou lovest all devouring words, O thou deceitful tongue." Shimrith's mouth once more pressed into a hard line. "It is a wonder that you have made it so far in this business of deceit and yet lie so poorly."

The figure was making progress. Puddles of the gasoline and kerosene made it night impossible for anyone who would step out the back entrance not to step without getting their shoes soaked. The liquid had already found it's way underneath the crack at the bottom of the door, and was leaking in unbeknownst to the patrons inside. The figure grabbed one more jug from the inside of the trash can, a Coke bottle with a rag sticking out of its neck, and finally a wine bottle that was rigged the same way as the Coke bottle. The cork from the bottom of the jug was pulled, and the figure started walking, leaving a trail of liquid behind.

Shimrith was still surveying the madam before her. She was the less observant of the two, but when something glinted in the low light, that caught her attention. She did not move her head, but saw that the switchblade was drawn and he had taken one step towards her. "Julie, I'm certain that you don't want anything -- " At that moment the man was close enough, so Shimrith's right hand shot out, attempting to snatch the man's arm and bring it down to hit against something so that he would drop the knife.

The bouncer that Shimrith had knocked unconscious had come to by the time the figure rounded the corner with the help of the other man. The two men were about to head inside when they spotted the figure approaching. The figure calmly pulled a Zippo from his pocket, lit the rag in the Coke bottle, and threw it at the two men. When it shattered, flames engulfed their feet.

"Jesus Christ, what is it with tonight?" One of them spewed as they both danced dementedly, as though they would stamp out the flames. The figure calmly set the jug down, allowing it's contents to flow over the sidewalk as the Zippo was touched to the liquid. It lit and consumed the jug with a small explosion before the flames began devouring the trail that led to the back doors. By this time the figure had already made it through the basement entrance.

The thundering music masked the shouts of the bouncers outside. But not even the loudest music could mask the explosion that came when the figure lit the rag in the wine bottle and threw it behind the bar. It shattered, the flames caught whatever alcohol was uncorked, and then bottles started exploding, feeding the fire. A mass of people surged towards the back door -- but it was already engulfed in flame.

[Edward Reed]

The scripture quoted verbatim hung heavily in the air as silence followed save for the now skipping stereo that belted out Aretha Franklin’s Until you come back to me. Julie squinted in a attempt to look menacing but the attack of the crazy pair had happened so fast, she had no time to call in more of her bouncers. They were supposed to stop these freaks at the door, not let them waltz in. The night was just starting off right too, a steady stream of clientele and none of her ladies were giving her lip or called in sick. She was getting to old for this. However her momma didn’t raise a idiot, she knew the dates the raspy voiced assailant listed off but feigned not knowing what they meant. In all actuality she wasn’t quite sure what she had to with those dates.

At the name calling she furrowed her painted eyebrows and she gave a shrug of her shoulders, attempting to gain ground. “I’ve been called worse by men much bigger then you.” A single long blood red nail was lifted and cast in Reed’s direction. “I know who you are.” The vigilante drew his head back. “Both of you, you’re those crazy masked heroes that are running around.”

“Not crazy.” Reed drew his hands into fists at his side and the pencil threatened to snap under the building pressure. “Tired of lies.” The man snapped forward and slammed his hands down on the desk and the bottle of scotch and a jar of pens jumped along side Julie. The pencil broke in half in his closed fist and the graphite edge rolled across the desk towards the woman, the sharp point directed towards her.

The bouncer grunted as the woman grasped his hand and slammed it down sharply on the edge of the desk but it wasn’t enough to deter him and he swung his other hand, his thick fingers curled into a fist.

Aretha had just settled into the last chorus when the first of the explosions reached them. The sound was deeper then gunfire and welled up from the very bottom and shook the floor beneath them. Reed turned sharply, his knees bent lowering his center of gravity and he glared at the closed door behind them. A sudden scream and the stampede of feet before it grew eerily quiet before another round of explosions went off. Reed swiveled his head towards his partner and sought for her direct gaze beneath the layer of fabric.

[Annabel Caldwell]

Shimrith said nothing when Reed responded to Julie calling the masks 'crazy.' 'Crazy' wasn't what Shimrith would call them, either. They had put up with society not dealing with the gangs, the prostitutes, the murderers, and the drug dealers. Masks were the ones who were finally taking a stand instead of lying down and putting up with it. No. Shimrith and Reed were not crazy; they were part of the small percentage of people in the world who still had backbones.

Shimrith was watching Reed's gestures towards Julie when the bodyguard's clenched fist caught her unawares. The curled hand smashed against the side of Shimrith's head with brute force, enough to send her wheeling. Her head throbbed, and she could feel that her scalp had been cut, probably from the man's cufflinks or wristwatch. As a bead of scarlet seeped from her hairline, Shimrith took the man's wrist and twisted it into the air before lifting her leg and bringing her knee into the man's back. He tumbled forward, his grip slackened on the knife that he held, and she snatched it. A handful of the material of his jacket was pulled by his shoulder, and Shimrith plunged the knife into it, pinning the bodyguard to the floor as the masked woman positioned the arch of her boot on the back of his neck and pulled her blackjack into the air. Shimrith's chest rose and fall rapidly, her blood surging with adrenaline and the effort from the fight. She could feel the bead of blood slowly etching its way down her face. It had been awhile since a perp had made her bleed.

At that moment, the explosions sounded. Shimrith could feel the vibrations up through the floor, and the rumble could be felt within her chest. Her thoughts raced. Could a propane tank have blown? Was there a car accident? Her boot still positioned on the man's neck, the masked woman looked to her partner as the sounds of doors opening, running feet, and screams filled the hallway. Already the upper part of the building was filling with smoke, making the air hazy. Visibility was getting worse by the second.

"You lied, Julie, and now it looks like you and some of your clients are going to get what you deserve -- a nice sizzle in hell."

[Edward Reed]

The moment her bouncer attacked, Julie surged up in surprising speed and reached for the bottle of booze, knocking it in Reed’s direction as he reached across the desk. It collided with an arm he brought up to block and the smell of cheap vodka washed over him as the improperly sealed cap snapped open and splattered his coat. The bottle rolled across the desk and off it, glass spewing everywhere as it shattered. The drinking glass, paper and lamp followed as the man climbed over the desk after her. The dull thunk of her stiletto heels across the wooden floor were silenced as the vigilante moved swiftly and rounded on her. He grabbed her arm and spun, rolling her in an almost gentle embrace before she struck the wall next to the stereo. The breath went out of her and she would have collapsed if it hadn’t been for the solid hand on her shoulder. The faded wallpaper filled her vision and the old smell of lingering mildew and burning cigarettes swallowed her senses.

"You lied, Julie, and now it looks like you and some of your clients are going to get what you deserve -- a nice sizzle in hell."

“No!” The woman’s voice was desperate and her legs trembled, threatening to buckle under her. “No, it’s not me! I swear!” A stream of curses spilled from her painted lips. Fear made caricatures of the out falsely brave. “I’ll tell you anything you want! Anything!” The hand on her shoulder tightened and she winced sharply, her mouth falling open in a silent exclaim of pain.

“What do you know!” Reed barked, his discomfort obvious in the way he held her and the close proximity of their bodies. He edged as far away from her as he could while still keeping her pinned to the wall. The fire had been quick to spread, the alcohol and gasoline it’s ignition but the building was severely under code and likely hadn’t been checked properly for a under the table bribe. Conspiracies and wild accusations flew through his head, but none were voiced as he waited for his answers. He was perfectly content to stand there as trails of smoke wafted from beneath the closed door of the office. The only form of reassurance he afforded himself was a guess but he suspected the asbestos that lined the walls slowed the fire from hitting the second floor as greedily as it consumed the first.

“I’ll tell you!” Julie repeated as she tried to twist to face the masked man. The smell of previous cigarettes gave way to a deeper, thicker smoke flavor of burning wood and she realized her building was what gave way to the heady smell. Somebody set fire to her life! “Just," the desperation strained her voice, shaking the confident syllables. "Just get me out of here!”

He looked back to his partner, his gaze sweeping around the room once and his attention narrowed on the darker slick trail of blood that oozed from beneath her mask. No, he missed it. Injured, jeopardizing, weak. Couldn’t risk it, she’d stay against his command if he remained behind. Reed growled and released his hold on Julie’s bare shoulder and tangled into the blonde locks.

“Fire escape. Move!”

[Annabel Caldwell]

Julie's reaction to Shimrith's words made the mask's disdain for the woman grow even more. She liked to believe that no matter what she turned out to be in life that she would show more integrity than this when confronted with her possible doom. Shimrith did like the way she finally broke with this threat, and would have heaved a sort of mental sigh -- If the building wasn't filling with smoke so rapidly, and if she was sure that the heat she was feeling on the soles of her feet was just her imagination. Shimrith lifted a gloved hand to her mouth in a weak attempt to filter the smoky air. Already she had a headache from it.

“Fire escape. Move!”

The boot was removed from the back of the bodyguard's neck and Shimrith hefted him upwards by the scruff of his jacket, which was a pretty impressive feat for her, even with her upper body strength. She poked and prodded the man to the curtained window that led out onto the fire escape. The blackjack was held ready, but she only used into to break the window, which had been parted by a wooden jam that would not allow the bodyguard or Julie and her girth out. Shimrith broke the jam and thrust the bodyguard out first. "Don't try anything." She warned once more before shoving him down the ladder. It groaned under his weight and slid to the street below. The flames that consumed the back entrance and the main level of the building were already licking at the brickwork, casting dancing shadows on the walls, reminiscent of heathens dancing to their gods.

Shimrith turned and held a gloved hand out to help Julie. She didn't personally like the rickety feel of the fire escape, and if it did collapse with their combined weight, she'd at least make sure that Julie didn't get away.

[Edward Reed]

Reed hauled the woman across her office to the open window and shoved her through with less then equal gusto and watched her squirm through the opening, catching her knee on the edge. She swore without restraint and slid back, resting a hand on her knee. The black garter belt peeked from beneath the high hem of her skirt as she drew her hand up to wipe at the trickle of blood from the sharps of glass. Julie glanced up at the masked woman then behind her at her creepy companion and swore the man was looking down before the black eyes swiveled away and he lurched back as if suddenly aware of how close they were.

Oh great, freaking crazy ass was checking her out. Had this been any other time, Julie wouldn’t have cared. She tried against and hefted a thick leg over the window and accepted the helpful hand of Shimrith and was pulled the rest of the way out. The bouncer rubbed his neck and glared at the woman before coughing violently. The smoke stung his eyes and he held onto the railing of the rickety stairs and slowly started to climb down.

Through the haze, Reed appeared in the window frame and looked to his partner. One hand rested above the frame as he watched her and contemplated going back. He jerked his head towards the opening, motioning Shimrith to go on ahead. There wasn’t anyone to save, the girl he had tied to a chair… The office door slammed open banging against the doorjamb and previously held back smoke billowed forth, chocking the man momentarily. A woman, the girl, as if she had heard his thoughts came stumbling forth, the twine still wrapped around one wrist.

“Julie! Ju-” She froze at the figure in the empty room and recognition crossed her features. She managed a half stumbled step back and when he turned, the smoke had enveloped her escape.

The heat penetrated his layers of clothing and seized his throat and burned eyes. She had been the one, out of all the sin that remained, to come back for the whore that ruined her life. The innocent didn’t deserve to be punished. The cry for help initially went ignored but the female voice made him turn his attention to the plump backside of Julie as she struggled to yank her stiletto heel from the grating of the fire escape. He frowned deeply, the emotion hidden behind his mask and he gripped the window frame to follow his partner out.