To sleep, perchance to Dream; Aye, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come.
-Hamlet
The figure shivers in the dark high above the city. It's an uncharacteristically quiet night, the lack of sounds oddly unsettling. Opaque eyes watch the snowflakes flutter in the wind of the alley and fall gently to the street below. In just a few hours, the city has been covered in a bright white sheen. For a minute, one could almost get lost in the beauty and forget the ills of this corrupt place.
Almost.
Paige sighs and wraps her cape tighter around her. She knew it would be futile. Only fools ventured out into weather like this…but sleep was elusive. The few minutes she'd managed to steal were haunted by dreams of fires and fury, of faces long dead and buried coming to life with words of judgment and blame.
She awoke in a sea of sweat and frustration….and probably a little less of her sanity. More slips away every time she closes her eyes. Why else would she be out here in freezing weather patrolling a city that most agreed was too far gone to be saved?
When she was a little girl, she loved the snow, loved the smell of cold, the fresh taste of snow. It seemed to her that everything could be reborn through the cleanse of white, but now she knew better. It was only an illusion. One that would fade when the sun came to expose the buried secrets. Once dirty, some things can never be clean.
But now, it was so damn quiet, unnerving in a city that never sleeps. Sleep. She envied those sleeping warm in their beds, something she'd long since given up on…too much work for something that invited reminders her of the past. She'd had enough of that to last a lifetime.
Instead she hunts.
She hunts until exhaustion takes her….but apparently not tonight. She stomps her feet to ward off cold and in her frustration, her boot sends a spray of liquid shooting in all directions. She crouches and runs her hand though the snow, feeling the cold through the thick red leather of her gloves. It's something tangible and soothing, pulling up memories of snowball fights and hot cocoa….of a time when she felt safe. Her mind drifts to a story she read in middle school about a man who fell asleep in the snow. Fucking Jack London. His death seemed so peaceful; he just went to sleep and never woke up. She feels a pull to lie down, let the snow cover her in its embrace, and allow sleep to take her. It wouldn't be a bad way to go.
The sound of a scuffle draws her thoughts away, a scream cutting through the stillness. Moving to the ledge, her scan of the alley confirms the noise is coming from below. Three men are swiftly advancing on a woman and a young girl. The woman's coat is torn and muddied. The alley is a dead end. There is no escape.
Another scream and adrenaline courses through her body. She feels the fire travel through her veins like a magic hit, making her hair stand on end. Her body begins to hum. Cold is forgotten as she breaks into a run and leaps across the void to the fire escape on the opposite building and lands with an almost silent thud.
One of the men looks up into the darkness to find the source, but seeing nothing, draws a gun on his victims.
"Look at that, boys. Two pretty kittens come into our alley to play with us."
He advances on them and begins to undo the buckle of his belt as he licks his lips. The two others flank him with sickly sweet grins.
A few more silent leaps down the fire escape and Paige is directly above the scum with the gun.
"Maybe you should play with a tiger instead."
Exploding from a crouch, she swings from the railing, her cape swirling behind her. Paige feels a satisfying thump as her boots connect with the chest of the thug closest to the two women, knocking him into the man to his left as the gun slides under a dumpster. The two men let out surprised shouts and tumble to the ground, stunned. Paige lands in a defensive crouch, positioning her body between the women and the remaining man.
She stands to her full height, her cape billowing around her ankles, a shock of red hair blowing back in the wind. Her smile is predatory as a look of panic and confusion washes over his face. "What the fuck are you supposed to be?"
She slowly advances on him, her movements calculated as she backs him into a wall.
"Retribution." she whispers.
In a blink, he pulls a knife and lunges. She sidesteps and twists his wrist, dislodging it from his hand. He recovers and throws an elbow that connects with the armor on her back. It barely registers as she rams her shoulder against his chest, pinning him to the wall behind. She pushes her forearm against his throat until his feet are no longer touching the ground.
"You picked a bad night to venture out into the cold."
She allows herself to revel in the rush of having the thug ready to beg for mercy. However, the sudden shift in focus of his eyes alerts her that something is wrong. Heavy footsteps descend on her and she quickly throws her elbow to her left and feels the satisfaction of a sickening crack. She ducks a punch while taking out the second attacker with a sweep to the legs. She's defused the threat but, in the process, she's left herself open to the man in front. Before she can react, a boot connects with her jaw. The blow knocks her off balance and stars dance behind her eyes. She tastes blood.
He lunges at her, but she catches the knife before it connects with her shoulder. Straining against his arm, she expects the others to come back at her. However, a quick glance around the alley reveals they are alone. "Looks like your friends abandoned you." she growls through gritted teeth. With a swift kick to the knee, his leg gives way beneath him. She rams her elbow into his head, slamming it into the wall behind him. He crumbles, unconscious.
Paige turns to check on the woman and girl, but finds that they too have abandoned her and her unconscious friend. She massages her quickly swelling jaw and spits blood out into alley. The scarlet streak is a stark contrast against the brilliant snow.
"You're welcome," she sighs to no one in particular.
"Freeze! Police!"
Paige is startled and spins in a flourish of red and black fabric. Beyond the barrel of a gun, lays a set of dark eyes scanning her with a familiar intensity….and for a second Paige forgets how to breathe.
"Don't move."
As the figure takes a step forward, the man on the ground groans. The noise is just enough distraction and eye contact is broken. With precision, Paige removes her grappling gun from her belt and in a flash, she is gone, swallowed by the night.
As she moves over the rooftops, the sound of a siren wails close by, but Paige is lost in her mind…haunted by a ghost with dark hair and soft curves. Even exhaustion won't keep her dreams at bay tonight. In her haste, she vaults past an ancient rusted and faded billboard that makes her smirk with the irony.
"Welcome to Rosewood. A Beautiful Place to Live."
