Disclaimer: Danny Phantom and all related characters are the product of Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon studios. Ebony Angel, Sweetheart, and Kat/Electra are the product Silent Elegy.
It was supposed to have been a charity event; that's what it was billed as, at least. Everyone who was anyone was there, and quite a few people who were simply trying to be someone. It was the ritziest black-tie affair since the first Oscar award ceremony.
It was also being run by the head of the local mafia.
Everyone knew who he was, but no one could convict him of anything. And in this town, you were innocent until proven impoverished. Considering what he actually had planned for tonight, that wasn't going to happen any time in the near future.
The liquor had been freely flowing for just long enough to put everyone off guard, but not quite long enough to give anyone a hero complex. At an invisible signal from their boss, they struck. Thirty armed men smashed through windows and doors, guns drawn and demanding money, jewelry, everything of value. The people were rich and drunk, but they weren't stupid. They happily gave everything of value if it meant saving their own skin.
Fifteen minutes into the collection, a rumbling noise intruded on the frightened din. Several of the thieves paled visibly and began nudging one another. There was the squeal of tires on asphalt followed by the screams of terrified women as something black and fast crashed through one of the few still-intact windows. Everyone scrambled to get out of the way as the solid black motorcycle slammed into the middle of the floor and skidded to a stop.
The rider, like the bike, was dressed in solid black, a bulletproof material that mimicked the look of leather. No one could see the person's face under the black helmet, but they didn't need to know who it was.
"Don't just stand there, you idiots!" yelled one of the thugs. "Get her!"
"She" raised a black gloved hand to make a mocking come-hither gesture. Eight of the thugs obliged. Guns held before them, they advanced on her in a loose circle. Beneath her helmet, she smiled; that was just the way she liked it. She revved the motor and shot forward slightly, then slammed on the brakes just in time to send the first thug flying without leaving any permanent damage.
She shot forward again, just missing a few civilians, and whipped the bike around to charge forward. In a move that would have made most professional stunt riders green with envy, she skidded in a tight circle that knocked the remaining seven armed men to the floor.
Some of these men had faced her before. The intelligent ones ran at that point. Those that stayed quickly wished they hadn't as the biker made quick work of them and squealed to a final halt before their boss. The entire procedure was done in complete silence from the rider; she let her bike speak for her. Now, as she stared at the man who ordered the theft, she revved the engine menacingly and pointed at the very large ruby ring he wore.
He looked down slightly, realized what she was demanding, and clapped his hand over it. "I'm not giving you this!" he snapped.
She revved the engine again and curled her finger toward herself, then opened her palm. The man took a step back, then turned and ran. He made it about three steps before he was knocked to the floor. For the first time in the last thirty minutes, the rider got off the idling bike to walk around and remove the ring herself. Then she mounted again and, with an ironic salute, drove back the way she came.
Away from the lights and people at last, she laughed loud and long at the fools who thought they could beat her. She was the unstoppable force scientists were always debating about. No one could touch her. She slowed to turn into a small alley and shut off the bike.
"Ebony Angel, I presume?"
Angel whirled to face the speaker; all she could see was a vague human outline in the shadows. "Who are you?" she demanded.
"I am simply a gentleman with a lucrative offer for you." He displayed a single hundred dollar bill, which Angel snatched.
"I'm listening." He handed her a photograph of a large, middle-aged man in orange spandex.
"This is your target. His name is Jack Fenton. I want him killed, but not his wife. I trust you won't have any problems with this request."
"Why would I?" she scoffed. The mysterious shadow handed over a second photograph, this one of a white-haired boy in a black costume with white gloves, boots, and belt and some kind of symbol over the chest. She raised an eyebrow and grinned beneath her helmet. "Well, I like his fashion sense."
"His name is Danny Phantom, and he will try to stop you. There will be a bonus if you manage to kill him as well."
Angel pocketed the photo and regarded her would-be employer for a few seconds. "Phantom, huh? He thinks he's a superhero or something?"
The man laughed. "Something like that, yes. You'll need special weapons to deal with him. I have already arranged everything you'll need." He gestured at a nearby crate; when Angel looked back, he was holding an open wallet. "Name your price." She named an outrageous figure on impulse, but the man merely nodded acceptingly and handing her half of it. "The other half when you deliver," he explained needlessly.
"Of course," she responded. "Just tell me where."
A/N: Gee, I wonder who that could be? A little background on Angel. I created her a few years ago to be the main character in a game I intend to make one day. She was created to be a super...eh...person. Not really a hero, as you can see. Her archnemisis, who won't be named in this, is El Diablo Roho, the mafia guy she just robbed. I was going to do a different story next, but I need a little more time to make it work. Consequently, you get this one, when it was originally not going to be for a few more stories. Hence Vlad's presence. My apologies.