All Alone Pt 5 (Patreon)

[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

Taylor

I really need to get fit. She tried not to pant too obviously, jogging along between the ill-lit buildings. Ahead and above, a shadowy figure flitted from rooftop to rooftop. God, I hope she doesn't lose me. She could feel the nylon swimming wallet fastened around her right ankle; it contained money for cab fare, but she wasn't looking forward to trying to find a working pay phone in this neighbourhood. And I definitely don't want to try walking home alone.

But she couldn't keep her eyes on the rooftops all the time; there was litter on the sidewalk, and if she hadn't kept an eye on where she was going, she would have tripped over a dozen times by now. Looking upward again, she tried to spot Sophia. There was nobody that she could see. Crap. Well, she was moving in this direction …

Renewing her grip on the baseball bat, she moved forward again, trying to look in all directions at once. When the dark shape stepped out of a nearby alley, she let out a stifled gasp of relief. “Oh, there you are.”

“Here I am,” agreed the indistinct figure, in a voice that was deep and masculine, and not at all like Sophia's. “And there you are. What you doing walking down my street at night, girlie?”

Shit, shit, shit, shit. Gripping the bat in both hands, she backed away a few steps. What do I say? What do they say in those Westerns? “Just passing through. Don't want any trouble.”

His chuckle was not at all reassuring. “I don't want trouble either. But I am gonna get me some sugar.” He stepped forward, and she heard the snik of a blade opening. “So keep quiet and there won't be any trouble at all.”

Oh, yeah. It doesn't work in those Westerns, either.

“Keep away from me!” She hated that her voice quavered on the last word. “I've got a friend -”

“Come here, bitch!” He lunged toward her; instinctively, she raised the bat and swung down as hard as she could. There was a solid thump and a muted crack, and he let out a strangled scream. “Fuckin' bitch! I'll fuckin' kill you for that!”

Remembering Sophia's brief tutorial on the subject, she stepped around to the right, hoping to avoid his knife hand, and swung the bat in a hard arc at knee level. Again, there was a solid thumpthat vibrated all the way up the bat into her hands. He let out another scream, a little more high-pitched this time, and she heard him fall to the ground.

“Maybe next time you'll -” she began, then yelped as she felt a hand close around her ankle. He jerked, trying to throw her off balance, but she brought the bat down hard, swinging blindly in the near-total darkness. On the third impact, his grip relaxed. By the sixth, he had let go. She hit him three more times, more out of reflex than of any desire to make sure. Panting, she stepped back carefully.

When the light cut out of the darkness to blind her, she threw up her arm to protect her eyes, and stepped back again. Oh, fuck, he had friends.

“Well fucking done.” This time, it was Sophia's voice, sounding warm and amused. “You sure as shit put the beatdown on that bastard. I knew the Boardwalk wasn't a fluke.”

Taylor felt her heart rate slowing down from 'ludicrous' to merely 'very fast'. “Are you nuts? The guy would've … fuck, he wanted to …” Even now, she couldn't actually say it. Saying it would make it real, and she didn't want it to be real.

“Yeah, and how many other girls has he done it to?” Sophia's voice was hard, now. She pointed the light at the man, sprawled on the ground in front of Taylor. “He asked for it. You know it.”

“Is … is he alive?” The guy was lying really, really still. Taylor had a bad feeling about this. Blood and hair were smeared on the bat.

“Sure he is.” Sophia came closer and knelt beside the body. With two fingers, looking very professional, she felt the side of his neck. “Yup, there's a pulse. He'll be fine. And maybe he won't try and grab girls in the dark any more.”

“Oh, good.” Taylor felt relief wash through her. I know what he tried to do, but I didn't want to kill him.

Coming to her feet in one lithe move, Sophia slapped Taylor on the shoulder. “Score one for the good guys. Come on, Night Girl. Let's go find some more assholes to show the error of their ways.”

Taylor felt a warm flush of pleasure at Sophia's use of her temporary 'cape' name. It made her feel like a real hero. Like she was actually helping to make a difference.

<><>

Sophia

“Yeah.” Taylor gripped the bat a little more tightly, as if drawing strength from its presence. “Let's go do that.” Then she pointed it at Sophia. “But don't fucking ditch me again. Got it?”

Behind her mask, Sophia smiled. Oh, yeah. She's a fighter. “Got it, parter. Ready to go do some righteous ass-kicking of evil?”

“Ready as I'll ever be.”

“Great.” Turning off the flashlight, Sophia tucked it into the pouch on her belt and waited till their eyes had adjusted before leading the way out of the narrow side-street. She didn't want Taylor looking too closely at the guy on the ground, because she hadn't actually been able to find a pulse.

If she realises that she's killed someone on her first go-around, she might panic. Give her time to get a little more used to the idea first. Of course, Sophia could've applied CPR, maybe even restarted his heart and gotten him breathing again. But why waste it on an oxygen thief like that? Some people are just plain better off dead.

Out on the main thoroughfare, the street-lights were actually working. Sophia strode along, cloak flaring, trying to project the impression that yes, she did actually own the whole damn street. Alongside her, Taylor pulled up the scarf to cover the lower part of her face and tried to copy her mannerisms. She wasn't entirely successful, but Sophia had to give her props for the effort.

After about a minute of this, Taylor turned to her. “So how do you do it?”

Sophia thought she knew where this was going, but the question was begging to be asked. “Do what?”

“Go out, night after night,” Taylor said. “Knowing that they'll still be there after you go home. Knowing that no matter how hard you try, someone's likely to get knifed in an alley, but you didn't stop it because you were half a mile in the wrong direction.” She waved her free hand, probably in an attempt to clarify her meaning. “How do you not lose faith in what you're doing?”

Fortunately, this was a question that Sophia had asked herself more than once. “I go out because someone needs to,” she said bluntly. “The Protectorate does these cutesey little patrols, making enough noise that the bad guys duck into their holes until the heroes have gone past. They might stop a mugging a week, if the mugger's careless.” She tapped herself on the chest. “What colour's my costume?”

“Uh, black.” Taylor's eyes opened a little wider behind her glasses, as if she had just realised what Sophia was getting at.

“Exactly.” Behind her mask, Sophia sneered, although it wasn't at Taylor. “The rest of them wear nice bright colours. Fucking Clockblocker wears white. He doesn't even have a ranged ability. So how the fuck he's going to sneak up on anyone is beyond me. They don't patrol, they display. They show off the fact that yes, wow, there are superheroes in town, and we'll protect you, we promise.” By this time her hand was laid across her chest in a parody of someone swearing an oath, and her voice was as viciously sarcastic as she could make it. “Just so long as the bad guys commit the crimes right in front of us, on the schedule that we stick to on our patrols, and wait while we phone up Legend in New York so that he can personally give us permission to get off our fucking asses and do something.”

“ … wow.” Taylor was staring at her. “It's not that bad, really. Is it?”

Sophia felt almost sorry for the taller girl's cluelessness. “I've watched them. They do the same damn patrols over the same areas, over and over, week after week. Crime goes down in those areas, because the criminals aren't idiots. They go elsewhere. Me, I vary my routine. One week one area, another week another area. And anything I stop, I stop hard. By the time I finish with those assholes, they know not to fuck with Shadow Stalker.”

“Yeah.” Taylor's voice was quiet. “You sure as hell stopped the ones that killed Emma.”

“Damn right I did.” Sophia felt quiet pride that Taylor was listening and understanding. “They aren't ever going to hurt anyone again.”

“But there's more where they came from.” The way Taylor voiced it, it wasn't a question.

“All the way up to Lung,” confirmed Sophia. “And before you ask, no, I'm not fucking stupid enough to try to take him down. Kaiser, I could manage. But Purity would damn well turn me into a crater if I did.”

“What about your shadow form?” asked Taylor.

Behind her mask, Sophia grimaced. “Would you want to be the one to find out that you're not immune to her blasts?”

Taylor looked enlightened. “Well, no, I guess not.” She paused. “So … what you were saying about why you go out.”

Sophia shrugged. “I do it because someone has to. I do it because people need to know that there's someone out here, watching out for them. But mostly, I do it because there are people in the world who desperately need to have their heads kicked in, and I'm just the one to do the kicking.”

“Right.” Taylor nodded. “I think I get it. I really do.”

I knew she was smart. “Good, because -” Sophia broke off at the sound of a scream, up ahead. “Okay, talky time's over. Move it.”

She accelerated into a sprint, feeling the cloak billow out behind her. It hampered her slightly, but not by a huge amount. Taylor's footsteps told her that the taller girl was trying gamely to keep up.

Another scream sounded from an alleyway, just up ahead. Sophia came to a halt, and looked around the corner.

There were five men, wearing Merchant colours, menacing two women and a man. The male victim was on his knees, cradling an arm which had red soaking through the sleeve. Both women seemed to be cowering back, not fighting at all. Sophia frowned at the sight of the blood. Did he try to fight back, or …?

Taylor skidded to a halt behind her, then leaned out to peer past her. “Holy shit!” she whispered. “What are we gonna do?”

“We're gonna kick the shit out of them,” Sophia said automatically. “But -”

“Right!” Taylor darted past her. “Let's get them!”

Sophia's eyes widened as Taylor went straight for the men baseball bat raised. Shit – no -

Turning the corner herself, Sophia followed in Taylor's wake. When we're done here, I'm gonna have a talk with her about assessing the situation first.

The first guy had obviously not expected to see a teenage girl come running at him, screaming some incoherent war-cry, and brandishing a baseball bat over her head. He froze for that all-important half-second, which was all that Taylor needed. There was a solid clunk as bat met head, and he went down and out.

This left Taylor facing four armed and aware opponents. Even if they were Merchants, this still meant that there was a certain amount of danger involved. Not for Sophia, of course; given room to move, she could have taken them apart for light exercise. But Taylor had no training. All she had going for her was enthusiasm and a baseball bat.

“Night Girl! Down!” shouted Sophia. Taylor dropped to the ground. Sophia sighted on two of the Merchant assholes and triggered her crossbows. Razor-tipped arrows whipped across the gap; one impacted the target in the shoulder, while the other skimmed past the other guy and lodged into a wall.

“Fuuck!” screamed the guy she'd hit, stumbling to his knees. Pussy. The other one, wide-eyed, looked down at where the arrowhead had parted his jacket sleeve on the way past, and bolted. Bigger pussy. Sophia never paused, leaping past Taylor to slam her heel into the gut of one of the two still standing.

He folded, but she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye, and went to shadow half a second before a heavy boot swept through her body. Rolling out of the way, she flickered into solidity and drove her elbow into the back of his neck. Where the fuck is Taylor? She's supposed to be backing me up, here.

She spent half a second too long looking around for the taller girl; all of a sudden, brawny arms wrapped around her from behind. The guy she'd elbowed, still shaky, brandished a knife at her face. “Gonna cut you, bitch,” he slurred.

Letting the guy behind her support her, she kicked him solidly in the nuts, then went to shadow form once more. Reforming behind the guy who'd grabbed her, she locked her arm around his neck in a sleeper hold. He clawed at the tough cloth of her costume sleeve, but was unable to get a proper purchase.

Then the guy she'd nutsacked got up again. He was even more wobbly than before, but he was still up and fighting. He must get kicked there a lot. This was getting tedious; she'd tried to keep things less than lethal, but these guys were getting on her nerves, and she still didn't know where Taylor was.

Releasing the bigger guy, she rolled backward out of the way. With quick, practised movements, she reloaded her crossbows; as the guy with the knife came at her, she nailed him through the kneecap. That put him down, screaming like a little baby. His buddy, still groggy from the almost-choking, took one in each thigh before he went down too.

“Night Girl!” she called out, retrieving her arrows. The place online where she bought them supplied a discount for bulk orders, but even with druggie money, they still cost a bit. “Where are you?”

Straightening up, she looked around. No Taylor. Putting the arrows away, she strode over to where the mugging victims were just getting to their feet. “Hey, you.”

The guy with the cut on his arm blinked. “M-me?”

“Yeah, you. You see where Night Girl went?” She waited a second for him to get the idea, then sighed in exasperation. “The other girl. The one with the baseball bat.”

One of the women raised her hand slightly. “Uh, she chased the other guy, the one who ran away.”

Oh, shit. “Which way did she go?”

The woman pointed. Sophia didn't hesitate; she took off running in that direction. Behind her, the man's voice dwindled away. “Aren't you going to wait for …”

The police? Hell, no. And stay out of dark alleys, you idiot.

Reaching the street, she skidded to a halt. There was no sign of Taylor or her quarry to the left or right. Oh, come on. I didn't take that long to kick their asses.

“Night Girl!” she called out, cupping her hands in front of her mask. “Where the fuck are you?”

There was still no answer, but she thought she heard a car trunk slam shut. Unfortunately, from the way the sound echoed, she wasn't sure where it came from. A few seconds later, she heard a car door closing. That sounded like it came from the right. Hoping she was correct, she turned right and started jogging down the street, looking around for any clue that Taylor might have come this way.

Shit, if she gets hurt because of me …

A car engine started, somewhere out of her line of sight. Fuck. Where's that coming from? It had been loud, so it was kind of close, but …

Just as she was crossing in front of yet another alleyway, headlights flared into high beam. Half-blinded, she flung her arm up in front of her eyes, trying to see what was going on. The car engine sounded again, roaring to a crescendo and rapidly getting closer. Instinctively, she went to shadow form and leaped straight up; the vehicle rocketed out of the alleyway below her. Dropping to the ground once more, she tried to get the number of the car, but it was swerving crazily from one side of the street to the other, having almost hit a parked vehicle.

Pulling her flashlight out, she scanned the alleyway. If Taylor cornered him in here, he might've just knocked her out before making his getaway. If she's hurt, I need to find her.

But there was no teenage girl to be seen. Just a familiar-looking baseball bat, and a black scarf that looked awfully like the one that Taylor had been using to conceal her identity. The horrifying reality burst in on her. Fuck. He took her with him. She's in the trunk.

Whirling, she sprinted from the alleyway, just in time to see the car's tail-lights take the corner at the end of the block. Fuck. I have to catch up with that thing.

Never in all her track and field experience had she run quite so fast. On the way, she unfastened the cloak and let it fall behind her. Pelting around the corner, she slowed down, heaving for breath.

The street was empty. As her breathing slowed, she could vaguely hear the engine of the car, but there was no way to pinpoint it.

Fuck. I lost them.

Slumping against the side of the building, she wrapped her arms around herself. I failed. Again. Taylor came out with me. She trusted me to back her up. And now the fucking Merchants have got her. Raising her face to the uncaring night sky, she arched her fingers into claws and screamed, “FUUUUUUCK!”

This time, there was no mistaking the red-hot ball of guilt that sat in her gut. I have fucked up so very, very badly. Taylor was a fighter, and I didn't teach her, I didn't train her. I just assumed she was ready. And now she's dead, or worse. Sophia had seen what the Merchants did in their spare time. She had no illusions about any kind of mercy that Taylor might face.

Gritting her teeth, she bumped the back of her head against the brickwork behind her. How the fuck do I make this right?

And then the answer came to her. Straightening up, she dashed back around the corner. On the way back across the street, she snagged her cloak and refastened it on the run. Retracing her steps, she retrieved the scarf and the baseball bat, tucking the former into her belt. And then she made her way to the alleyway where the mugging had taken place.

The three victims were gone, which was good. Taylor's first target still lay there, unconscious. The guy she'd gotten in the shoulder was lying there in a huge pool of blood, barely moving. Must've hit an artery. Oh, well.

The two she'd gotten with leg injuries were conscious, but in considerable pain. Kneecap guy was actually almost to his feet, or rather, foot. Leaning against the wall, he started in fear as Sophia re-entered the alleyway. “Stay away from me, you crazy bitch,” he babbled. “You fucked my knee.”

Sophia looked dispassionately at him, then at the one with a wound in each thigh; that one was sitting up, but hadn't managed to work out the concept of standing quite yet. She hefted the bat and moved toward the guy with the kneecap. “You're gonna tell me where you guys hang out,” she said quietly. “And you're gonna tell me right the fuck now. You got me?”

“Fuck you, skank,” he blustered. “I ain't gonna tell you fucking shit.”

“Have it your way.” She braced herself and swung the bat as hard as she could. It impacted with the side of his good knee with a sickening crack. Screaming shrilly, he crumpled to the trash-strewn ground.

“Fuuuuuck!” he screamed, writhing in agony. “My fucking knee! You fucking bitch!”

She put one foot on his leg and took aim at the knee she'd shot out. “Tell me where. Right the fuck now.”

“Shit, no, no, no,” he blurted. “I'll tell you, I'll tell you.” Hastily, he rattled off an address. Sophia knew the street, but hadn't thought there was a Merchant hangout there.

She frowned at him. “I think you're fucking with me.” Raising the bat, she smashed it into his knee anyway. He convulsed, shrieking so loudly she thought he might pop a blood vessel, and then passed out.

Sophia turned to the other guy, who had been watching with horror. “One down,” she said as menacingly as she could. “So, you want to tell me where you really hang out, or you want me to see how many ways I can fuck up your legs too?” She slapped the bat into her palm. Already pale, he went sheet-white.

<><>

Merchant Hangout, at the same time

Joe looked over his cards at the other guys in the game. Mitch looked like he might be out of it, though Roach was still in the game despite the huge joint he kept toking on. Ziggy, on the other hand, was tripping hard on something, which puzzled Joe. He hadn't known Ziggy had anything worth tripping with.

He rearranged his cards and peered at them. The smoke from Roach's joint drifted across the table, making it hard to concentrate. Finally, he pushed a couple of tiny pills into the stash in the middle of the table. “I bet two E.”

Mitch blinked awake and licked dry lips, reaching for one of the E's. Joe slapped his hand. “You need to win the pot first.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Mitch put down his cards. “I win.”

Just as Joe was peering at the cards, the door to the hangout opened. Roach took a hit on his joint, then gusted the smoke across the table as he spoke. “Dude. We didn't ask for any party favours.”

Joe looked around. Ray stepped into the hangout and shut the door behind him. He had someone over his shoulder, dressed in black from the waist down. Joe couldn't see if it was a guy or a girl, and what they were wearing from the waist up, but he assumed it was much the same.

“Not a party favour,” Ray said, dropping his burden on to one of the ratty armchairs. Joe had been right. Black clothing from top to toe. Plus, long hair, which probably made it a girl.

“Shit, it's a kid,” Joe said. “What the fuck, Ray? If you're gonna get someone high and bring them back, at least make sure they've got tits.”

“I can't tell,” mumbled Roach. “Is it a boy or a girl? If it's a boy, I'm out.” Joe sniggered; the 'boy in a dress' prank they'd played on him that one time had been fucking hilarious. Some of the photos were still floating around somewhere, too.

“It's a girl,” Ray said. “And she's Shadow Stalker's fucking partner.”

That name got Joe's attention. He looked more closely at the girl's face. It was pretty badly bruised, with split lips and a broken nose; one eye was badly swollen. “You sure?” All of them there had a major hate-on for that shadow bitch. She stole their money, torched their drugs and shot arrows into them at every opportunity. Joe was pretty sure that she had even offed a couple of guys he'd known.

“Dead fucking sure,” Ray stated flatly. “Me and the others ran into them in an alley off Dwight. Remember that one that people cut through all the time?”

Joe nodded. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, that one,” Ray said. “Two of them, five of us, this one had a baseball bat. Hit Donny right over the head. Then Shadow Stalker started shooting, so I legged it. I'm the only one who got away. This bitch chased me, but it turns out she's got no idea how to fight. I got the bat off her, so she tried to pepper-spray me, but I saw it coming. Knocked it out of her hand and kinda tuned her up a bit. Dropped her in the trunk and came here.”

“Duuuude,” breathed Roach. “My fuckin' hero.”

Joe frowned. “Why bring her back here? Why not just fuckin' shank her and leave her?”

“Because she's Shadow Stalker's fuckin' partner, you dick,” Ray said. “We can finally find out where that bitch lives, and put a fuckin' end to her.”

Joe looked at the girl apprehensively. “What about her powers?”

Ray shrugged. “Didn't use any. Unless 'sucky at fighting' is a cape power these days.”

“All-righty, then.” Joe got up, ignoring Mitch grabbing at the stash of pills in the middle of the table. He pushed his chair into the middle of the floor. “Tie her to this and wake her up. We got some questions to ask this little bitch.”

It didn't take long to wrestle her limp form on to the chair. They had no rope, but an extension cord did the job just as easily. It was Roach, as he tied her ankles to the chair legs, who found something interesting. “Hey, what's this?” he asked, pushing up her pants leg.

“What?” asked Joe.

“This.” Roach pointed at a flat wallet of some sort, strapped to her ankle. “Think it's important?”

Joe laughed out loud. “Important? That's fuckin' golden.” Pulling his switchblade and popping it open, he leaned down to slice the straps holding it to the girl's leg. “Okay, let's see.” There was a zipper on one side; opening the wallet, he went through it, pocket by pocket.

“Well, well,” he chuckled. “Well, well, fucking well. Thirty dollars. Must be cab fare. Well, it's mine now.”

“Hey,” slurred Roach. “I found that. That money's mine.”

Joe rolled his eyes. “Next time, you check the fuckin' thing out then, loser.” Tucking the money into his pocket, he kept searching. It didn't feel as though there was anything else in there, but he kept looking on general principles. He was just about to give up when he found something else. “What's this?”

“What's what?” asked Ray.

“A name. This wallet belongs to T. Herbert,” he said, squinting to decipher the faded, fraying label, stitched into the very last pocket. “No, wait. Hebert.”

“Weird fucking name,” Ray said. “You sure that's what it says?”

“Sure as shit,” Joe assured him. “Like 'Herbert', but without the first 'R'.”

Ray grinned. “Good. Let's see if they're in the phone book.” He rummaged through a cupboard until he found a White Pages, then started riffling through it. “Let's see … Hays … Head … Heath … Hebert … well, fuck me. It's a real name after all.” His grimy fingernail came to a halt on the sole listing for Hebert. “Okay, I've got an address for D and A Hebert.”

“Well, it's a good bet that that's where this bitch lives.” Joe shrugged. “Dunno what Shadow Bitch's name is, though. Or even if she lives there.”

“One way to find out.” That was Ray. “I'll get some of the guys together and go over there. Find out what the fuck's going on, and put a fucking end to it.”

“And I'll stay here.” Joe looked down at the unconscious girl. “See what she can tell us about Shadow Stalker. And then we'll teach her not to mess in Merchant business. Ever fucking again.”

“Wait.” It was Roach. He blinked as Joe and Ray both turned to look at him. “Uh … aren't there rules for this sort of thing? Unmasking capes and shit like that?”

Ray grinned unpleasantly. He was really good at it. “We're not capes. They don't apply to us.”

Joe nodded. “Damn straight.” 

Part 6