Author's Note: Hello all! Here is the beginning of the third story in the LOTR Champions series. I hadn't planned to introduce the character in the prologue for another few stories, but she insisted. I do need to warn you that while the main story is in the same vein as the previous two, the prologue is much darker, though not graphic. It contains reference to rape, murder, and vigilantism. Think the agency in the series La Femme Nikita, only on a smaller scale. As ever, Boromir of Gondor does not belong to me, nor do the other canon characters of Lord of the Rings; however, the various and sundry reincarnations do belong to me, as do the other individuals in the present time. I don't mind if you borrow my characters, but please ask first and return them to me intact and more or less unscathed.

Champions: An Ounce of Prevention

Prologue: A Pound of Cure

Las Vegas, Nevada. . .April 2006

She told herself from the beginning that even though this was a special case, she couldn't treat it as such. She would stick to the parameters; they were there for a reason. Even so, she felt more than just a vague satisfaction as the additive did its job. Moment by moment, his breathing became harsher, sweat poured down his face in rivulets, and he was quickly losing color. She smiled at him sweetly, asking in an equally sweet voice, "More iced tea?" He didn't answer, but a growing fear was obvious in his expression. Good. She said, opting to set aside the pretense, "You're most likely wondering why you're finding it hard to breathe. . .why your heart is racing. I put poison in your drink."

The man's lips moved as if he was trying to speak, but it wasn't necessary. She knew what he wanted to know. He wanted to know the exact same thing they always wanted to know. With a mocking smile, the woman asked, "Oh, you want to know why? How silly, of course you want to know why you have. . .oh. . .about ten minutes to live. Do you remember a little girl named 'Renata Blackwood,' about twelve years of age? Oh. I see you do. I should hope so. Did you really think that you would get off so easily?"

He was blinking back tears, but she felt no compassion for him. She told him as much, observing, "I won't waste any tears on you. If I had any tears left to cry, they would be for the little girl you raped, who can't quite figure out what she did wrong; or the parents who will never forgive themselves for failing to protect their baby. I can grieve, too, for the cops who tried to put you away. But not for you. You don't deserve my tears, or her tears for that matter. And you know, normally I do my job and then leave, but you? You're a special case. That little girl you raped is the same age as my daughter. And if it had been my daughter whom you raped, I would have had you drawn and quartered!"

Ah, there it was. . .the resignation which came from knowing it was over. There would be no rescue, no second chance. . .only whatever punishment the afterlife held for him. He now understood that she wasn't a cop, wasn't limited by the law. . .or by a conscience. The moment of complete, abject helplessness. . .to mirror the many moments of helplessness which Renata's parents experienced and would continue to experience. He was getting off lightly, really. She almost smiled. But while she was a killer, a murderess, she took no real pleasure in the ending of lives. She took no pleasure in the ending of this life, but she did take satisfaction. She whispered, "You will never rape another little girl. You will never cause her parents to weep and wonder why they failed to protect their child."

The light died from the man's eyes, and the woman never took her own eyes from him. When his chest ceased to rise again, she checked for a pulse. Nothing. Just to be thorough, she removed a pocket mirror from her purse, opened it, and held it close to his mouth. The mirror remained clear, and she snapped it closed. The world was rid of another rapist. . .better yet, a child-rapist. Now for the clean-up. She removed her cell phone, hit speed dial, and said when the other party picked up, "He's dead. Yes, I checked both his pulse and his breathing." There was a long silence while she listened to the other person, and then replied, "Doubtful, but I'll take extra precaution. What about the judge, or will we let the first line of defense take care of that?"

As she talked, she removed her barrette, allowing her hair to spill down her back. A professional woman entered the rapist's hotel room. . .a tourist would leave it. The skirt was removed, revealing the shorts underneath, and then she placed both the skirt and the jacket inside the tote bag folded up inside her purse. She was glad her daughter talked her into buying the bag. For the first time blinking back tears, she replied huskily to the most recent question, "No, I'm fine. I'll finish here, and then leave the hotel. I don't imagine so, but if you think it would be better to find a connection and leave from the other hotel, I certainly won't argue. Two weeks? That would be very welcome. All right. I'll see you then."

She flipped the phone closed, and dialed another number. On the second ring, her daughter's excited voice said, "Mom? You're already done?" For the first time, a true smile crossed her face and she agreed, drawing an excited squeal from the youngster as the girl continued, "Oh, that's awesome! I was afraid your business would take at least a few hours. So you're gonna come pick me up from Aunt Lila's, then we're gonna sightsee, right?" This time, she allowed herself a laugh. It would be so good to spend the rest of the day in her daughter's company.

It was the girl's Spring Break, which she was supposed to be spending with her father, but as usual, he let his daughter down. It was his loss. She told her daughter, "Absolutely. Have you decided where you want to start? Keep in mind, no casinos for at least another six years." Her daughter laughed with delight, which made her smile again, and she continued, "I'll be at Aunt Lila's in about thirty minutes. My business is wrapped up here. . .I have two weeks off, so what would you think about seeing your grandmother after we spend a few days here? Maybe even go to North Carolina and meet your grandfather?" The awed silence on the other end of the line was answer enough. Her little girl had been dying to meet her grandfather for ages, along with her aunts by blood. And it was long past time for her to meet her own sisters.

"OH YEAH! Sorry, Mom, but that would be great! Okay, Aunt Lila says she needs the phone back, so I'll hang up. . .love you, Mommy!" Charlotte Amalie 'Carey' Rafferty quietly hung up the cell phone, looked at her victim one last time, and then left the hotel room. It was mid-afternoon, so everyone was out seeing the city or gambling or doing other things she really didn't want to think about. However, she didn't believe in taking chances. Especially not if she and her daughter were flying out to North Carolina to see her father and his family. The oldest of her younger sisters was a police detective. . .and while she had never met Megan, the last thing she wanted to do was drag her younger sister into her world. Her sister was the prevention. . .and Carey held the cure.