Erik strode through the grey afternoon as its colour slowly leached away to black. His breaths escaped his mouth in clouds, the cold threatening to freeze his lips. His jaw was clenched, his hands gripped tightly; one around the handle of the bag he carried and one a fist by his side.

His eyes darted around as he walked, scanning for any signs of movement. He was on the very outskirts of the town, where it petered out into fields and scattered farmhouses. The river fork was a little in front of him, a forest beyond it, and long shadows were beginning to play across the hillside above. No doubt the location had been chosen for its long view of the road into town, which was in plain sight for quite some distance, and the forest which provided cover for those orchestrating the handover.

The kidnappers were clearly more arrogant than intelligent, however, or at least hadn't surveyed the area properly, because there was a second path to the river. It disappeared into a small copse of trees before dropping sharply downhill and out of sight, then winding its way back into town. Erik had already been hiding among those trees for an hour and had watched other men appear from the treeline opposite, scouting around the area before slinking back under the cover of the forest.

He could still see plenty of movement through the shadows and the leaves, however; sifts of discomfort, jigs of anticipation, trembles of nerves - these men were clearly amateurs. It was only bad luck that they had succeeded in taking Celeste, and the complacency Erik had settled into over the years, thinking he was at last safe from evil and violence. He would be complacent no longer. All his life he had to fight to keep what was his, and he would have to again now, whatever the cost.

Checking his watch, he emerged from the trees, a frightened expression plastered over his face that wasn't entirely faked - he truly was afraid for Celeste, afraid for the children he had left alone in the house, and afraid of what he could lose in the process of taking back what was his. He allowed the fear to show, to give his opponents the same complacency that had fooled him, but inside he remained calm. He could not fear, could not rage, not when he needed his mind to be completely focused.

Erik eventually reached the fork in the river, and found a tree stump with a piece of paper pinned to it by a knife. Forcing himself not to scan the forest again, he picked up the note. It read: Leave the money and your wife will be returned to you.

He almost scoffed aloud - he doubted that was true. And even if they did intend to give Celeste back, he wasn't going to wait helplessly around. He would get her back himself.

He set the bag down on the ground, taking care to place it safely on the stump, well away from the mud that the bank descended into - it was still his bag, after all, and he fully intended to retrieve it and the money it contained when this was over. Straightening up, he risked another glance around, making it a fearful scan of his entire surroundings. He didn't recognise any of the men he could see, which was good: he would rather face petty criminals than someone with a grudge, especially given the number of highly skilled and unsavoury characters he had met and probably offended over the years.

With that last look, Erik turned away and stalked downhill again. He walked back into the cover of the trees, never looking back, never slowing his pace. When he was out of sight and sure no one had bothered following him, he stopped again.

He removed his mask, stowing it in one of his many pockets. It would only get in the way, and his face was a weapon of its own - he knew from experience that a few seconds of shock and horror before recognition could save his life. Exposing it again like this, not at home with his family but in front of strangers, enemies, took him back years to when he had been another man - little more than a boy, really. Violence had been his only escape then, and it seemed he was trapped in it again.

Erik shook his head as he locked his eyes back on the money: now was not the time to get distracted. He couldn't afford to fear morality or repercussions until he had his little angel again. Tonight, he was not a respectable citizen or a loving husband; he was a Phantom reclaiming what had been stolen from him.

Only a few seconds after he disappeared from sight, the men began to emerge from the forest. Another amateur move, along with the fact they all swarmed out as one with no structure or caution. They gleefully scooped up the money without a second thought, congratulating themselves before heading back the way they had come. Perhaps he should have stuffed the bag with enough paper to feel like real money, or just left a booby trap inside. But no, it was safer not to risk Celeste's safety with tricks. Besides, he fully intended to get every cent back.

Once every man had disappeared again, Erik followed. He initially kept his distance in case he could be spotted despite his practised stealth, but soon caught up with the group. They were celebrating so loudly that he barely had to try to be discrete, and the forest concealed him so well without much effort.

After only a few minutes they arrived at a barn, where the six men he followed greeted another two standing outside the door. He guessed there would be at least another one or two inside, hopefully with Celeste. He had faced far worse odds, and against far more formidable opponents.

Erik could have involved the police, but why take the risk when he was perfectly capable himself, probably more so than they would be? He would contact them later, when the kidnappers were all caught and wrapped up for them to arrest - he was determined they would face justice from the law, no matter how much he wished to deliver his own irreversible punishment for what they were doing. Besides, he wasn't going to risk Celeste's wellbeing by delaying or putting his faith in anyone else. No, it was better he did this himself, and quickly. He needed his wife back.

One of the men peeled off from the group, declaring loudly to the world his need to go to the toilet. Good start.

The man stepped back inside the trees, not knowing he was trapping himself with his doom. Erik waited a few moments as the man relieved himself - it was only polite, and it reduced the chances of the man wetting himself in fear, which was messy and unpleasant for both of them. He just wished he didn't have to listen.

With that in mind, Erik approached silently, drawing the Punjab lasso from a pocket as the man finished. Once his trousers were firmly back in place, Erik pounced, easily looping the rope over his head and drawing it tighter. The struggle was short, the man being surprised and overpowered, and he was soon limp on the forest floor.

Erik swiftly produced small sections of rope from another pocket, something else he had picked up in town along with the money. He tied the man's hands and feet, his fingers dancing with practiced ease as though violence was its own music.

One down.

He stood and turned towards the bar. The two men still stood guard outside, but the others had all disappeared through the doors. They really were making this easier for him by the moment.

He remembered the names the kidnappers had used to greet the guards and called one, mimicking the closest approximation of the now-unconscious man's voice he could. It seemed to work, despite his limited sample of the sound, as one of the guards perked up at the shout. He detached himself from the barn, visibly rolling his eyes as he strolled towards Erik in the woods. Another loop of the lasso, another brief scuffle, and the man joined his fellow kidnapper on the floor.

Two.

Erik made sure the second man was definitely unconscious and tied up before repeating the process with the other guard. He soon joined his fallen comrades, and Erik bound each to a tree for good measure. He couldn't risk being interrupted when facing the other men, so he gagged each of them as well.

Three.

Erik paused for a moment within the treeline to ensure his activities hadn't drawn any attention from within the barn. His calls seemed not to have reached inside, and soon he was stalking towards his next victim.