Night hunting

Cold, dark, damp. The storm had already passed once night came around to reveal the moon shining brilliantly. While it wasn't enough for most people to see, I didn't have a problem. I've lost count to how many time's I've been up here, doing this exact same thing day after day. Sure, some days there are different roofs I perch on and on different times of night. But it always ends in one of two ways; either I go to sleep empty-handed or I get some action.

After seeing a car pull into an allyway, it looks like it might be the latter tonight.

This town has really gone to hell ever since the UAA made home next door. While rare, some of the people that do escape that hell end up over here. Not only that, but sometimes the reverse happens where people are taken from here and made to be in the action when they never did anything. What a glorious country this has become. At least I've done a few things about it.

The car turns out to be four men and a woman, with the women worse for wear. It's not just the visuals with the ripped clothing and bruises; I can sense the pain. She's in distress, soon to be panic while the big boys are completely clean of any danger. Well, I can change that in a good amount of time.

It's all about waiting now. Waiting to see what's going on, waiting to see what is a threat, and waiting for the perfect moment to strike.


"About time you paid up, bitch!" One of the men drags the woman out of the car and throws her by the arm.

"You of all people should know the boss doesn't like waiting." Lowest voice goes to the biggest man. All of the men pull their jackets asside, showing guns in each one. 3 pistols for the goons and a revolver for the big man. It's all intimidation; if you want to keep somebody in place, crush the reason to escape with fear.

"But... I made him a deal. Three weeks and..." She's already on the virge of tears. The body was shaking before she even got out of the car.

"No buts. You didn't read the fine print. 'Dates subject to change'. Now wheres the money?" Fucking fine print, the bane of men and women around the world even when they don't know it.

"No... please, I-" She had crawled herself up against a brick wall, holding her hands up in defence but the backside of the gun connected sharply with her cheek. I could feel it from here, the sharp immdiate pain followed by the dulled sense afterwards. It's a damp feeling in my chest, slowly spreading through my veins, empowering me.

"Stop talking nonsense!" The man who hit her yelled, now pointing the trigger at her head. "Give us the money, or we'll take it and your little Tommy boy from you! He'd be a sad little boy then, wouldn't he?" He distanced himself from the others, approaching the woman directly while the other three were by the car, closer to light.

The last mistake he'll ever make.


I've already transformed by the time I'm falling. Their reactions, if they've seen me yet, are to late to save him by now. A hard bludegon of metal makes contact with the back of his head, bulging out his eyes and knocking a few teeth loose. The cranium cracks under the force of metal and gravity as the spine is immediately broken off from the head. I make landing before the body does, and the three by the van see their buddy dead, a woman cowering in fear and a pair of red eyes staring at them from the darkness.

At least he got a quick death.

"What the fuck?!" A common reaction from the goon, a shock feeling of fear that stops them in their tracks. "What the hell are you doing!" The big guy takes command as he should. "Shoot the damn thing!" The two goons quickly draw their guns to take a shot, but by then it's too late.

Even as the bullets fly, the shield is up already. A swirling sphere of black and a strange shade of blue- non-photo blue I think it was called - absorbs the bullets as they hit it. When the pistol rounds are gone, the shield is at it's limit. I let it burst, a flurry of magic colliding with both of the goons. One falls over backwards in pain as the explosion rips at his body while the other still manages to stand. He's next.

A quick dash unsummons the mace, but I don't need it right now. Its a simple combo, a punch to the stomach, grab the head and ram it into the wall then throw him away. Its enough to keep him alive, but enough pain caused for me to follow up. The other goon is up at that time, but I come to him swinging the mace. It makes direct contact with the face, making a bloody mess. The pain forms in my hand, the liquid essence of agony swirls in it asking to be used. I grant it its desire, and fling a bolt at the one still alive. Big bad boy is last.


The revolver has six shots. It takes a while for the big man to point it at me, still in shock at how I downed all of his goons in less then ten seconds. He fires, but a shield is up again. One shot, two, three. I can tell he wants to survive at all costs, I can see it in his eyes. Four, five, the shield breaks, weaker. Six...

That hurts. Straight into the shoulder. Left. Not where he was aiming, it was missfired by the blast. But still... that hurts like a motherfucker.

Im clutching my shoulder by the time I fall to my knees. Something... stirs in me. The pain doesn't stop, but flows differently. I look up to see the man still in fear, holding his empty gun with a shaking hands. He's scared of me.

They all should be.

A second form takes place in me. The power I usually command from around me envelops my entire body in it's light blue glow while a black smoke rises from it, steaming the liquid. I probably could be mistaken for being on fire, and I might as well be right now. I'm really pissed off at him right now.

I remember a video that explained the physics behind a video game character kicking a soccer ball so hard it split in three. If that power of a kick connected with a head, there wouldn't be a head left.

I felt like trying that, with my fist. What I got was a bloody mess.

Mission accomplished, ish. I still need to better focus myself next time.



"Ya sure you just don't wanna grab the other bitches back at base? They'd give ya a better run." My Incubator remarks to me through after I had given the car keys to the woman and gone back up to the rooftops. "Actually, that crazy-ass power is makin' ya crazy as hell for blood huh? My bad."

"It's not really your fault, Eightball" I reply, still feeling my left shoulder even after the bullet and the would vanished. Happens every time I switch to that form. "I just need more time with this. Once the power was given, I became responsible for it.  Soon i'll have this figured out."

"And you're doin that by whackin whatever purps get unlucky?" I stare at the cell-phone for a while, his . "Fuckin whacko, girl, but you do what ya wanna do. I expect all my bitches to  deliver, even if it makes jelly-jam outa peoples heads."

"You really need to get better at making jokes, but that one wasn't bad." Hell, that at least gets a grin from me.

"You think I'd be crackin jokes at ya, bitch? I ain't no fucking comedian." There's a creaking noise coming from his end of the line, along with snickering. "But nah, all I want is all my bitches to always deliver. I'm expectin good shit from you, Gina girl."



I can't help but chuckle darkly at this. Its a small secret about "Eightball" that I figured out when I got in; he's really interested in the wishes girls make when they join. Most have the same-old wishes of "I want to beat up bad guys" or "I want to make the world a better place for everyone".  Hearing those things again and again gets a bit annoying after a while, and I can remember him expecting the same from me.

"I want to take the pain from those who don't deserve it, and give it to those who do." That's the only time I've truely seen him surprised. But he always gives out extra for wishes like that, where the more interesting the wish, the better the result he tries to give out.

"Eighty, I don't even know if I'll even have time for that. I'm working as hard as I can and yet-"

"The fuck you sayin, Gina?" The tone in his voice changes. He seems more interested then confused, probably because we've been talking enough that he manages to understand me a bit.  I probably have more trouble understanding him. "You're becomin a rockstar among the Officio, especially after you wasted two witches at that whacked-up museum. When the other bitches see you fight, they don't even know what the fuck they're lookin at. You've been goin off the charts, so why you gotta get yourself down like that? You're one scary bitch, ya know?"

"I know, its just" I know what I want to say, but a million words a second won't do. "It's because it's not really about power, form or achievments. It's not my peers, co workers, friends of what others think of me. In the end...

I still don't know how deep down the rabbit hole goes."