Quis custodiet ipsos custodes

Marisa was still uncertain about her hunting. She had made mistakes the first time on her own, and that had shaken her confidence. She had done everything 'by the book', but still things had gone wrong, and she wanted to understand how. She didn't hunt the next few nights, instead trying to catch up on some sleep and let her wounds sustained in her fight with Foxy heal.

She forced herself to go out in the meantime, though she was sure everyone knew she had killed people, that the cops were just around the corner waiting for her, that somehow what she had done was branded across her forehead for everyone to see. She was so tense that she sat through a movie and didn't even remember which one she went to see 10 minutes after leaving the cinema.

At the same time, she tried to look inside herself, to find the spark of self-hatred she thought she should be feeling, for killing people. It frightened her that she couldn't find it, as much as she hoped it was there. She finally understood the fear that had plagued Cally for so long, holding her back. She realized that there was a large difference between Cally's situation and her own, though. Cally had wanted to train to hunt, so she could be 'worth' being hunted, whereas Marisa ... She wasn't in this for such a noble purpose.

She felt distant from her surroundings. As distracted and lost in her examination of her hunt as she was, she could 'feel' her surroundings, was more aware. More alive. She noticed things that had escaped her for so long - colors were sharper, sounds were louder, the sky was bluer, the night was clearer. For someone who had prided themselves on being relatively uninhibited, open to experiences, her new-found sense of presence in the world came as a delight, and a shock.

That awareness was kicking in this morning, as she went for her now-daily jog. Something felt wrong, her senses were ringing alarm bells in her mind demanding she sit up and pay attention. Without showing it outwardly, she felt a sense of calm confidence, tinged with a level of lethality, come to her as she ran along the sidewalks.

In a few blocks, she realized that she kept seeing the same dark van, as if it was pacing her, following her. Thinking back, she remembered she had seen it before, yesterday, as well. Her first thought was it was the police - they'd finally figured out who she was, what she'd done, and they were waiting for the right time to bring her in - but that didn't make sense to her. If it was the police they'd have moved on her when she slept – or handed her to the people who were paying them far more than they made on the city payroll, the criminals.

She altered her route to see what the van would do, and she wasn't surprised when it changed course to keep following her.

Oh goodie, my first ever stalker!

Technically, that wasn't entirely true – her first stalker had been an alien hunter that had almost killed her, but this was her first time being followed by pyode amedha so the distinction seemed important. As more blocks passed, she started trying to formulate a plan. Where to go? Her instincts told her to head to the park, several blocks away.

Get them out of the van and on foot. That way I can isolate them, take them

As she ran, she checked the blade in her waistband was secure and concealed, grinning to herself as she remembered how she had chided Cally for always going armed. She almost stumbled as she suddenly realized where she had gone wrong with her hunt, the answer being inadvertently provided by her current situation. She had analyzed the situation then, gone through all the things Foxy had been teaching her – but she'd been trying too hard. No two hunts would ever be the same, and she'd been too static, too unresponsive to the actual environment she had been facing.

This time, her distraction had proven a benefit, because it meant she was reacting to the environment, the problem she faced, without trying to over-think it. Her instincts had a better grasp of what needed to be done than her conscious mind could provide.

With this new found realization, her confidence began to rebuild itself, but she remained wary. Things could change in an instant, she couldn't afford to be complacent.

She turned into the gated entrance to the park, and angled over towards one of the more out of the way jogging paths, slowing down so as to give her followers a chance to get out of the van. She didn't want to lose sight of them if she could avoid it. As if on cue, the van pulled up to the curb behind her and several people got out, before the van sped off, presumably towards the other side of the park.

So they want to box me in

As she rounded a curve in the jogging path, she caught sight of a car pull up to the curbside, two men climbing out before it too left the area.

They need backup, even better!

She was trying to make light of the situation to herself, but she was beginning to get worried. There were now at least five people behind her, and an unknown number would arrive, presumably, from ahead. All she had with her was one of the alien long knives, and the unarmed combat skills Foxy had been working with her to develop – a nasty set of skills to be sure, but still ...

The thought of running away didn't even cross her mind, and Foxy's words about that fine line kept coming back to her. The people following her thought they were the predators, but she was becoming more and more the one able to disabuse them of that if the need arose.

To throw her followers off, she stopped at a bench a third of the way around the path she had taken, stretching a few times before simply sitting at one end of it.

Take control of the situation, force others to react to you. It takes time for them to adjust their thinking, and gives you an advantage

Another lesson from Foxy, and one she grinned to herself at remembering. She sighed inwardly, oddly missing the brusque alien female, her trainer. She wondered what the hunter was doing at that moment, and if she'd be proud of her student's application of the lessons so far.

She watched as the people from the van slowed on the path, then stopped, but was disappointed that they didn't seem fazed by her abrupt change in plans. She reappraised them as they casually spread out, keeping their distance without looking as if they were doing so, or even interested in her. Whoever they were, they were disciplined and professional, and she filed that away to keep in mind.

More surprising was the reactions of the second group to have entered the park behind her, they seemed to be spending more time looking at the first group than they were watching her. They seemed less practiced at the whole thing, as the two of them moved up a slight incline to sit, keeping Marisa and the first group in sight.

They're not together, she thought, but who are they watching - me or the others?

She wondered if there would be a way she could exploit this new information, as she subtly examined both groups. The ones from the van made her uneasy, they had the looks of people who were very accustomed to being predators. Cold dead eyes was her first impression, and she understood these were people who would have no hesitation in using violence, or death.

The two men on the side of the hill also seemed to radiate danger, a willingness to do violence, but something was different about them, and she spent a few minutes trying to understand it, before a voice from beside her broke her out of her analysis.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the powderpuff girl." Marisa blinked at the scorn dripping from the familiar voice, and turned to look at the speaker with surprise obvious in her widened eyes.

"Well hello there. I thought you were still in the nut house?" Kylie's eyes flashed in anger, and she poked Marisa in the arm with one long manicured fingernail.

"You know as well as I do that I'm sane. Now where is she?" Marisa was sure that any claims of sanity were themselves a delusion on the ex-reporter's part – she could feel the energy the woman was giving off, waves of deranged hatred barely suppressed and she shivered despite herself. She collected herself and tried to put on an innocent expression.

"Where's who?"

"Your friend, the bitch in black." Marisa rolled her eyes, not needing to act her exasperation.

"Oh for Christ's sakes, don't you ever give it a rest? Your mystery 'bitch in black' was what got you locked up in a padded room to begin with, remember?"

"She's no mystery, you know who she is, and you know where she is. Tell me, and I'll maybe let you leave here alive."

"I don't know what you're ..."

"Don't give me that." Kylie interrupted her. "You're living in the bitch's apartment, and I remember seeing you with her. Now where is she?" Marisa tried to figure out how the woman had found out that the apartment had been Cally's to begin with. Marisa had assumed that she'd been found because Kylie had recognized her in passing, but it looked more like the apartment had been under surveillance.

For how long?

"All I remember is you interrupting us at lunch one day with your crazy bullshit." Kylie grabbed Marisa's upper arm, fingers digging into the muscle painfully as the ex-reporter drew in closer. Marisa tried to shift further away, only partially feigning nervousness – the woman was truly insane! Anxious to head off any explosion, to give herself more time to think, Marisa quickly came up with an answer of sorts.

"The apartment's mine, now let go." The look of disbelief on the woman's face was patent, and her next question showed her skepticism.

"Yours?"

"Yes. It was left to me."

Marisa sensed two of the three who had followed her into the park move closer, the leader looking around to make sure no-one was paying attention to the altercation on the bench. Marisa wondered if the watchers on the hill had been noticed, were seeing what was going on, but she didn't dare take her attentions too far off the unbalanced Kylie.

"Left? How?"

"In her will."

"Her what?" It was Kylie's turn to be confused.

"She died, before you were locked up. They never found the body, she was declared legally dead a year later, and the apartment had been left for me in her will. That's why I live there. Satisfied?" She bit out the words in a staccato, not caring if the pain they evoked showed or not. She was beginning to get angry at being questioned by this relic of the past.

"She's not dead, she's back killing people with her alien fuck buddies."

"You really are crazy. They're the ones that killed her!" Marisa's voice rose and she had to fight to control herself. The pain and anger in it was so blatant even Kylie felt it, as far gone as she was, but the ex-reporter shook her head.

"I don't believe it!"

Marisa snorted, and took the opportunity to pull herself free of Kylie's grasp of her arm. She could see the woman had come from the other direction with a man, her mind started putting all of them together into two groups – Kylie's, the four from the van and the ex-reporter, and the two that had come from the car, the 'others'.

"Yeah, well I don't care what you believe or not."

They sat there looking at each other for a few minutes, both of them trying to digest the information they were getting – Kylie about Cally being dead, and Marisa that the woman was still around, still fixated on Cally, and seemed to have very competent looking backup. Kylie broke the silence first, sounding almost ... plaintive?

"Someone's killing people the same way she did." Marisa shrugged.

"Seems to me like you'd be the prime suspect for it, since you know so much about it. You figured you'd try to get people believing your crazy shit and take her place?" A malicious streak in Marisa took over for a moment, and she needled the woman.

"You show up in town, and suddenly bodies start showing up again? Yeah, I'll bet there's someone might want to look into that. Think you've got enough fingers left to cover being asked?" As she finished, she pointed to Kylie's maimed hand, the legacy of her dalliance with the Yakuza. She was rewarded with the woman going red, covering the back of her hand to conceal the stump of her missing finger with her other hand.

A cheap hit, but a good one all the same. Marisa wanted to keep needling the woman, to get her angry and see what she might blurt out in response. The warnings about hunting in anger also applied to debating in anger. Lose perspective, lose focus, and you lose.

"We're going to be watching you." Kylie warned, spitting the words out.

"Feel free bitch. Just remember something. You might want to be careful about pissing me off. Don't forget, you were a part of her being murdered, I might just decide to remember that and do something about it."

"Ohh, the powderpuff girl is getting moody! Look at me, I'm so scared!" Kylie tried to be sarcastic, to dismiss the threat with bluster, but she was feeling nervous all the same. She remembered a similar warning Cally had given her, and how she had almost ended up dead if Cally hadn't decided she 'wasn't worth the effort'. Marisa smiled sweetly.

"You think you're the only one who knows people who can do their dirty work for them?"

Kylie glanced at the four men that had come with her, and stood angrily. As a group, the men converged on the ex-reporter, who poked a finger towards Marisa.

"I'll find her, and then her ass is mine. Get in my way, and yours will be mine too."

The woman turned and stalked away, surrounded by the others, Marisa's reply burning in her ears.

"Sorry dearie, deranged psycho hose beasts from the armpit of hell aren't my type."

-

Marisa waited, expectantly, and wasn't disappointed. One of the two men on the hill moved off towards the entrance to the park, while the other came down to the path, before stopping by the bench. Marisa eyed him curiously as he gestured to the bench.

"Do you might if I sit?" His accent was faint, and she couldn't place it, but he was certainly a foreigner..

"Feel free." They sat there in silence until the man's companion returned from the park entrance, nodding once to the man on the bench before moving off to the side at a distance enough from the bench to provide some privacy. Marisa waited, unsure of the situation and unwilling to make the first opening.

"You seem to have some strange friends." Marisa laughed wryly as she turned to get a better look at the stranger.

"I have many strange friends." He smiles gently, showing teeth. For an instant, Marisa wondered how they'd look in her trophy collection and stifled a giggle.

"Yes, I'm sure you do. I'm curious about the ones who just left however."

"They qualify as strange, but not as friends." He raised an eyebrow towards her.

"How curious. They certainly seemed to know you." She shrugged helplessly.

"I just have one of those faces I guess." They both waited as a jogger came trotting down the path before continuing.

"It's very striking yes, but somehow I doubt that was the reason for their interest."

Marisa laughed. This was definitely a polite interrogation.

"Flattery will get you nowhere. What's the reason for yours?"

"Anything they have an interest in, I have an interest in finding out why."

"That's not even close to an answer." She chided him gently. It was his turn to shrug.

"It's the only one I'm prepared to offer."

"That does tend to cut down on the conversational potential." They both laughed, and fell to silence again. Marisa felt a chill and looked around but couldn't see anything except the stranger's colleague and the empty jogging trail. She kicked herself for having been stationary for so long, the sweat she'd worked up jogging to this point had evaporated.

She stood and stretched, the man rising with her, and they began to walk back towards the entrance to the park, the other man leading out of earshot ahead.

"You say they are not friends. Are they instead enemies?" She looked over to him and a slight smile played across her lips.

"Only if they decide to be stupid." He nodded.

"There is a saying, the enemy of my enemy is my friend."

What's he after? Does that mean McCullough's his enemy? Who are these people?

"I prefer 'The enemy of my enemy has an awful lot of enemies'." He smiled again. They paused by a water fountain, and once she had taken a few mouthfuls and straightened up they continued towards the entrance.

"I would very much like to know what their interest is in you." He asked as they came to the end of the pathway.

"You could always just ask them instead." He shook his head, almost sadly.

"The thought had occurred to me, but I would prefer they not know I'm asking about them."

"Why?" He said nothing, and she sighed. "I'm sorry I can't tell you anything you seem to be interested in."

"As am I." He pulled a notebook and pen out of his jacket, and scribbled something. He finished and tore the sheet of paper away from the notebook and handed it to her. There was no mane on it, simply a local area phone number. "If you think of something I might like to hear, you can reach me there."

The strange man walked a little faster to catch up with his colleague, and as the two of them reached the kerb the car they had arrived in pulled up. Once they were inside, it pulled away, leaving Marisa standing there looking very bemused.

Now what the hell was any of that about?

She shrugged and started jogging again. She'd have to work hard to loosen up again after all of this talking today.

There was no-one left to notice the faint shimmer in the air that betrayed the departure of the final witness to events.

-

"Do you believe her?" The voice on the telephone was distorted, a combination of the long distance call and the nature of the encryption being used to scramble it. Far beyond the capabilities of anyone to decipher, it means their conversation was absolutely secure – if hard to understand at times.

"I don't know. The aliens are psychos, it wouldn't surprise me for them to kill her. But we know someone's out here killing people the same way the bitch did, so until we know who that is, I don't think we should just take the woman's word for it."

The news that "the Bitch in Black' was dead had shaken Kylie. Throughout her time in the psych wards, she had held onto the possibility of one day getting her revenge on Cally. In her mind, she now hated the aliens for having cheated her of that revenge.

If the bimbo friend was to be believed of course.

"If they killed the woman's friend, she might be more useful as an asset." the voice on the other end of the line mused. Kylie's eyes went wide, even though she knew he couldn't see them.

"You're joking right?"

"I never joke, Ms McCullough. I am not saying we should trust her, but she might be as interested in getting revenge as you are. Keep it in mind." The coldness of the response made Kylie catch her breath for a moment, belatedly remembering who she was talking to.

"It'd be a huge mistake."

"We shall see. Place the woman under observation and continue your search in the rest of the city to see if you can identify the killer. I want answers."

"Yes sir."

Today downright sucked.