Chapter 1

Hi all. Chapter 2 was revised, like Chapter 1, to fit the story changes. And, also like Chapter 1, the changes aren't much, but they help.

She stood in front of the large tombstone, covered in black. The ground on the right was sealed with dirt, grass sprouting from the soil. The ground on the left was freshly torn open, and a coffin lay deep inside. Her black veil obscured her face as she bent to lay a single rose between them.

"They cancelled the investigation, Mother, just like they did with Father's. They say they can't find anything useful to convict anyone. Ever since Father died the world has become so fraudulent, I can't believe it. Looks like it's all up to me now. I won't let you down. Neither of you."

"Ms. Douglas?" A voice asked from behind her. Helena turned around slowly.

"Yes? Can I help you?" She replied. A loud click filled her ears and Helena stared down into the barrel of a gun. She barely had time to gasp before the gun went off. Blood sprayed everywhere.

Helena's eyes snapped open with a short scream. The phone was ringing shrilly near by. A wave of relief washed over her as she answered the phone. "Helena Douglas speaking."

"Ms. Douglas? John Kelly from the Tribune. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions."

"Speak to my lawyer," Helena said in monotone, hanging up before he could reply, then groaned at the large headache that pounded her head. Helena sat in front of the large desk in her father's study. Paperwork was spread across every inch of it, and dust had begun to gather on the books her father was once so proud of. When she first walked in the room was cold from being unoccupied for so long. But now, for the first time, she realized how long she had been there. The study was slightly warmer and had grown dark as the sun set and storm clouds began to fill the sky. Helena reached into her pocket for the locket containing the picture of her mother inside, looking at it with a smile before placing it back. She sat back in the large black leather chair, rubbing her aching temples with a sigh. She reached for the liquor bottle beside her, only to discover it was empty.

"Having a pre-dinner meal, I see." A voice said from the doorway, slicing through the silence of the room like a knife. Helena looked up briefly, but turned her eyes back to her papers when she saw whom it was. One of the gold digging partners that worked at her father's company. "What, no hello?"

"I have better things to do."

"Ouch. Someone's cranky." Michael Bryant said, stepping into the dark room completely. He switched on the overhead light, causing Helena to flinch. "And living the life of a bat."

This time Helena looked at him as she spoke. "As much as I would love to continue this battle of wits with you, I have a lot of work." She gestured to the papers on the desk. "All of Father's business was given to my mother after his death. And now that she's gone, it's my responsibility."

"It's been months since Marie's passing, Helena. Why is there still so much work?" Michael asked, taking a paper in his hand to read it. "If you're going to procrastinate you should leave this work to professionals, like me."

"Oh, yes. A professional, brown-nosing, jack ass." Helena said coolly, the corners of her mouth twitching into a small smile at his flustered reaction. "Believe me, for as long as I've known you and people of your kind, I think I'm doing better on my own. Besides, this is not procrastination. I just got these a few days ago."

"And to think I came all the way here to help you," Michael said. He tossed a manila envelope onto the desk, which Helena took in her hands tentatively. "That arrived at Douglas Industries this morning. They want to know what to do with it."

Helena opened the envelope and scanned through the contents inside. "The Dead or Alive World Combat Championship? I thought they cancelled this long ago, when my mother…"

"Your mother never cancelled it, she just tossed it aside. I assume she didn't want anything to do with such a thing. They continued it on their own it seems."

"By 'they', you mean the contestants."

"I suppose," Michael answered. Helena shuffled through the file as he continued. "But since your father's death the contest has gone corrupt. There are almost no rules at all, and the rules they do have are always broken without any punishment. You should get it rid of it before…" Michael was cut off but the shrill sound of the phone ringing. He looked at Helena questioningly. "Are you going to answer it?'

Helena sighed. "The damn thing's been ringing off the hook for months. They'll give up soon." Michael opened his mouth to speak but closed it again at the sound of silence. Helena smiled and leaned back in her chair. There was a small knock at the door and one of the maids came in timidly.

"Miss. Helena, telephone for you." The woman said, looking at Michael with a fearful glance. Michael smirked at Helena boldly.

"They'll give up soon, huh?" He said tauntingly. Helena rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Thank you," Michael said brusquely to the maid, waving his hand to shoo her away. The woman looked to the floor and left the room quickly.

"Leave my help alone, Michael," Helena said agitatedly as she picked up the phone. "Helena Douglas speaking."

"Ms. Douglas?" A voice asked. Helena raised an eyebrow. The voice sounded inhuman; obviously the caller was using some scrambling device to disguise their voice. Helena looked at Michael with a confused glance and cleared her throat.

"Yes, who is this?"  

"Who I am is inconsequential. I understand that you're looking for some justice."

Helena chuckled briefly. "Justice is an understatement."

"I have some information that might prove to be quite useful to you." The mechanical voice said.

"I'm listening."

"The killer's at the Dead or Alive World Combat Championship. I suggest entering before time runs out."

Helena's eyes narrowed. "Are you saying…?"

"Yes, either enter the tournament or live in regret forever. I leave the choice to you."

"Wait, you haven't told me anything! Who is the…"

"I've told you all you need to know." The voice interrupted, hanging up before Helena could reply.

"Helena?" Michael asked as Helena hung up the phone.

"I'm going." Helena said after a pause.

"Going where?" Michael asked. Helena threw the envelope at him, which he caught in disbelief. "You're joking." His eyes went wide at the stern look on her face. "The person on the phone…"

"They gave me the first bit of information on my parents' cases. Maybe if I follow this lead I can learn more."

"Don't be ridiculous! We'll call the authorities. Send them to this tournament to investigate." Michael stated.

"I made a promise that I intend to keep." Helena answered as she rose from her chair.

"S-surely you're not thinking of entering this, this, homicidal blood fest!" Michael sputtered.

"Since when have you been so concerned about me?" Helena asked as she turned to walk out the door. Michael grabbed her arm, violently turning her around to face him.

"You're crazy! You can't win at a thing like this!" He yelled, shaking her. "You're just a," He screamed in pain as Helena raised her fist and punched him in the face. He stumbled back; holding his bloody nose with both hands and glared at her.

"Both my parents had their cases dismissed because of lack of evidence. I am not going to sit here and let whoever's responsible get away with it. They destroyed my life, and now I'm going to destroy theirs! In their own game!"

"Stubborn bitch." Michael said angrily. Helena lunged forward, striking him on the back of the neck with a chop and then jumping up. With a forceful kick, she sent him flying back into the wall. He slid down the wall and landed on the floor with a thud, unconscious.

The maid pulled open the door and came in swiftly. "Miss. Helena! I heard a lot of hullabaloo," She looked at the crumpled form of Michael on the floor and then at Helena. Helena tossed her hair back and grabbed her coat from the rack by the door.

"Just an argument, Claire. Nothing to worry about," Helena said evenly. She started opened the door and started to walk out, pausing briefly to look over her shoulder. "Would you mind cleaning up this mess? Thanks."

To be continued