Author's Note: All properties are the rights of their respective owners, Marvel, Respawn Entertainment, etc.
Howdy y'all.
This is a spin off story based on 'Power Without Question' but reading that story is NOT required for this, at least if I did this properly, but it will certainly help. Like that story, this one is set in the world of Insomniac's 2018 Spider Man video game, specifically a few months following the games DLC story, 'The City That Never Sleeps.' If you're not familiar with those, then you should still be able to follow, though some mentioned background events are shown in both those places.
For this story, I wanted to focus on a supporting cast member I like, but never could find a way to get her to forefront of Power Without Question or the sequel I will eventually do, so the idea I had turned into this standalone tale. It is going to be based on one of my favorite films, but to say which would spoil the story. Unlike PWQ, which is very long, and quite bloated in a certain way, this will be a shorter, sharper story that I've already got planned out. Updates will come every other Wednesday.
A special thank you to both TheCarlosInferno and V-rcengetorix for their help getting this story to this point, and putting up with my crazy ideas.
As for the chapter title, it's the first in what will soon become a theme for this story. It's Megadeth, specifically the title track off their 2016 effort, one that won the Grammy for best metal performance. I've been listening to a lot of Megadeth lately, and while this album is something of a departure from their usual, it is a good one, and I think this song sets the scene pretty well.
Justice Without Compromise – Chapter 1: Dystopia
"What you don't know" the legend goes "can't hurt you"
If you only want to live and die in fear
They tell us to believe just half of what we see
And absolutely nothing that we hear
Resist the twisted truth, no matter what the cost
Supplant the rights with wrongs inside our heads
Outlawing all the questions to the answers
That no one likes when someone ends up dead
The setting sun bathed Manhattan in a mix of reds and oranges that discolored the low hanging clouds overhead, but that didn't put a stop to all the activity taking place in the aptly named 'City that Never Sleeps.' Sitting on a bench in the midst of the West Side Docks, a long figure watched some of that activity unfold around her. To those who passed her, not much seemed remarkable about the Asian woman, her head of black hair was down, blocking her face from most passersby, and her plaid button down and black jeans didn't attract attention, nor did the handbag she had on the bench next to her. Because she was facing west, towards the docks, the sunglasses that concealed her eyes were expected, and of all the pedestrians who walked by, none spared her a second glance.
Some did do a double take at the print edition of the Daily Bugle newspaper she held open, seeing the headline on the front about the Mayors comments on criminal justice reform, with an emphasis on curtailing the activities of the vigilantes known to operate in the metropolis. The woman reading the paper let out a low chuckle as she read the story, shaking her head and sipping from the coffee she had bought. The Mayor of New York City had been making such claims for the last three months, ever since a gang war between the families of the Maggia had terrorized the city. What the politician seemed to forget, as most politicians were prone to do, was that the actions of vigilantes had brought the open conflict to a decisive end when Don Hammerhead was killed by a group of them.
Just because there was no more violence in the streets did not mean that the Maggia was no more, far from it in fact. A dozen young Mafiosos had all risen up to try and claim the mantle Hammerhead had craved, 'Don of Dons,' each trying to consolidate their power behind the scenes. Yuri had seen this all play out before, and knew the New York Police Department, hamstrung by the Mayor's reforms, had been able to do little to quell the power struggle, but it was a precarious balance for the city, and sooner or later something would have to give.
The article in the Bugle speculated that this was the case, but the journalist clearly did not understand the full gravity of the situation. New Maggia families were forming in place of the those shattered in the spring, and it was only a matter of time before organized crime would begin to spread through the city once more, and the NYPD was doing precious little. Case in point, noted the woman with the paper, that there was nobody else here watching as a recently arrived cargo ship was unloaded. The Ramshackle Globetrotter, an independently operated tramp steamer bearing the flag of Kuwait, had arrived that afternoon after making a long voyage, picking up lumber in the pacific northwest before transitioning the Panama Canal and picking up a small shipment of Colombian coffee and making its way to New York, or so the manifest had said.
After spending the better part of two decades as a cop, Yuriko 'Yuri' Watanabe knew better. And so when she got a tip that something else was aboard, she had figured it best to come down and get a look herself. Her instincts proved true as a cargo truck and pair of sleek luxury sedans turned into the gates of the shipping yard. The unusual convoy enough to draw Yuri's eyes from the page, and she watched the three vehicles pass through her sunglasses, memorizing the license plates of each.
As soon as they were through the gate, Watanabe pulled her cellphone from her purse and sent a text to an old friend containing the three vehicle IDs. Through the chain link fence, Yuriko could see the truck get loaded up with several crates inside the shipping yard, keeping a mental tally going as she watched. A chime from her phone got her attention, and the former police captain saw the reply regarding the license plates. Scanning through it, Yuri put the phone back in her purse and looked back to see that the trio of vehicles starting to head out the way they came in.
Taking care to appear relaxed and not rushing, Yuri folded up the newspaper and gathered her belongings before pulling out a small gadget from her pocket, the clockface of a child's GPS watch that she had wrapped in tape. Ensuring there was still plenty of stick on her improvised device, Watanabe stood and began walking towards the intersection outside the shipping yard just as the convoy came up to the red light there. To pedestrians and, most importantly, those inside the sedans, it looked like she lost her footing and slipped off the curb and into the street, only prevented from falling to the pavement by grabbing onto the box truck at the last second.
With her hands empty, Yuri didn't have to pretend to scuttle her way away from the cars as the light turned green and they sped off. Pulling her phone out, Yuri saw that the homemade GPS tracker was functioning perfectly and smiled to herself before crossing the street and heading north. Passing the USS Intrepid, Yuri made her way inside a small deli, deciding she had time to get some food before she would have to do something about that truck. Placing her order and paying in cash, the former cop waited as her order was filled, eyes drawn to the TV behind the counter. "Hey, could you turn that up for me?"
Shrugging, the man behind the counter hit the button on the remote and made it so the special news report could be heard. "Thanks Jill," began the onsite reporter, a pretty blonde holding the microphone of a local station, "I'm here at the New York County Supreme Court where we have just learned that Carmine Ricca, who was charged with racketeering, distribution and selling narcotics, and murder, has been released from police custody. The judge has declared that nearly all of the evidence provided by the NYPD was inadmissible due to 'mishandling' by police. Experts I've spoken to have commented on how vague this decision is."
"Damn clowns," grumbled the shocked sandwich maker, "Can they do anything right? Or is Spider-Man the only one actually making a difference anymore?" Gritting her teeth, Yuri held her tongue, resisting the urge to speak up in defense of the good people she knew still wore a badge, even if she wasn't one of them. She couldn't, not in good conscious, not when she had turned in her badge because of the same frustrations the shop owner was experiencing now.
She just handled them differently.
"He can't do it all," observed Yuri flatly, her arms crossed.
The deli owner turned to look at her, "Yeah, I suppose you're right lady," he answered before going back to making her meal. "Still, it'd be nice if someone else helped take up the slack, yeah?"
"… another possibility is that of an inside job. Rumors have persisted of the Maggia having had men on the inside of the NYPD since this past spring, but the NYPD has denied all such accusations." The screen then showed the doors of the courthouse open as a half dozen uniformed police officers emerged to keep the gathered crowds away from the stairs of the courthouse. "Here comes Ricca now, who might be one of the last remaining members of the old Maggia, now walking free once again." Panning up, the camera came to a stop on a middle-aged man, dressed in a fine pinstriped suit and who's features were distinctly Italian. As if he owned the courthouse, Ricca made his way down the steps at his own pace, casually looking about as if the assembled people were his adoring fans despite the jeers that could be heard through the broadcast. When Ricca reached the street, he settled into the backseat of a Mercedes S Class before the big black sedan pulled away. "And there he goes, marking another high-profile failure for the NYPD. From the New York County Supreme Court, I'm…."
The TV shut off as soon as the lone man in the apartment hit the remote, unable to watch for a second longer since he had seen what he needed to see. Pulling on a leather jacket and gloves, the man opened a drawer and retrieved the Taurus Model 444 Raging Bull revolver inside. Flicking the cylinder out and ensuring that the six .44 Magnum cartridges were in their chambers, the figure then holstered the stainless-steel finished weapon into the holster on his hip and strapped it into place. Following that, the man picked up the white helmet that had been sitting atop the dresser before heading out the door.
After taking the subways through the city, Yuri finally returned to where she lived. What had once been a small warehouse on the lower east side now made for a massive loft, at least for a single occupant. It hadn't been meant for her, but it had been entrusted to her by a friend and she had promised to put it to use.
The security system was top of the line, and had been something Yuri had added to since moving in, meaning she needed a key, number code, and finger print to enter her abode. Inside, Watanabe activated some of the lights in the loft, illuminating the first floor. The first thing she passed was her home gym, complete with bags, training dummies, weights, and other equipment she used to stay in the kind of shape her current activities demanded. Then came where she kept most of her gear, located at the base of the stairs that led to the second floor. Ascending those stairs to the living space of the loft, Yuri made for a coat closet and retrieved a duffel bag tucked away in the corner.
Yuri then laid out the contents of the bag on her bed, checking that each item was in satisfactory condition before setting it down on the neatly made sheets. She then stripped down to her underwear and began donning the assorted gear in a set of well-practiced motions, starting with a shirt and set of form-fitting leggings with sweat absorbent and temperature-regulating properties. Next was an outer suit comprised of shirt and trousers made of multiple layers. One was a Nomex like, fire resistant material, another resembled Kevlar, offering some ballistic protection, and sandwiched between all of that was a layer of electronics and sensors connected to everything that would be attached to this outer layer.
The suit was like nothing made on this Earth, because it hadn't been, but that was the farthest thing from the ex-cop's mind as she zipped up the garments. The only alteration she had made was the color, dying them to an off grey with a hint of purple, just enough so that the suit would be recognized, feared. Next came the boots, similarly sourced to the other bits but more conventional in appearance. After that were the pads that went on her knees, shins, elbows, and shoulders, made of a rigid ceramic material to offer protection more from impacts than projectiles. Following that was a type of small gauntlet for her left wrist that contained a pair of retractable eight-inch 'Ripper Blades' as an effective CQC weapon.
Then came the parts that made the whole suit truly special, the first item of note was a large 'kit belt' that Yuri wrapped around her waist, the weight from the various pouches, each loaded with gadgets and equipment, sat on her hips as the belt was buckled into place and the connecting wires plugged into her suit. On the rear of the belt, nestled in the small of her back, was a small box with a pair of rotating nozzles affixed to the bottom corners, what was called a 'Jump Kit' and provided not only power, but the ability for Yuri to launch herself into the air or run along walls. Following that was a second 'gun belt' that connected to this main one, but which Yuri had set up to ensure the holster was slung down low, on her right thigh. It was a style more than one person had compared to an old western gunslinger, and not without reason. Next came what looked like a plate carrier, but it was sleeker, form fitting, and only had protection on her stomach in front, though there was a full back plate. The reason for this odd lack of protection was what was contained in the back plate, which was a lot of computer hardware. This hardware allowed for a level of processing power Yuri couldn't wrap her head around, but she could process the results, the thousands of small synthetic crystals woven into her suit and embedded in her ceramic plates and pads would work together to reflect light in such a way as to make her seem nearly invisible to the naked eye, and neigh undetectable to any sort of camera system. The system worked best with form hugging gear, and so a solid plate on her upper torso was out of the question.
Next came the gloves, but integrated with them were a set of odd metallic struts bisected by a swiveling joint. Putting each on in turn, Yuri strapped her arms between the struts before connecting them to her shoulder pads, which themselves were connected to her suit. Then came the lower part of the exoskeleton system, which Watanabe stepped into, these struts going up the outer side of both legs before connecting to the suit directly at her hips. The hydraulics in the 'exo' as it was called could absorb impacts that might otherwise cause injury or death, they also enhanced her strength, allowing Watanabe to punch as hard as a man who had fifty pounds on her.
Brushing her hair behind her ears and out of the way, Yuri then donned a full head mask, similarly snug fitting, and zipped it to her shirt, sealing it to protect her from chemical agents. The rebreather and filtration system were designed as a gas mask or to operate with a separate oxygen tank, and her eyes peered through a set of six goggles, two setts of three arranged in a trinocular fashion. The advanced sensors offered her different vision modes including night vision and infra-red, wide-angle fields of view, and magnifying capabilities on the integrated heads up display she saw on the inside of the mask.
The equipment wasn't one of a kind, another vigilante, the Marauder, had a similar but more capable set. He had entrusted this kit to her nearly a year prior, during desperate times. It had been necessary then, just as it had been in the spring, when Hammerhead had caused her to seek justice in the only way she was sure would end the bloodshed. Reflecting on that, Yuri saw, somewhat bitterly, that she had only been half right, killing Hammerhead had stopped the gang war, but hadn't totally ended the violence. So Yuri turned in her badge and kept wearing the kit, seeking to correct that mistake, and a few others.
Last was a version of the shemagh that had found favor with soldiers, wrapping the cloth around her neck and draping it over her shoulders before plugging it into her shoulder pads. Watanabe pulled up the hood at the back of it, letting it cover the sides of her head to protect the sensitive electronics in the mask from the elements. Only then did Watanabe turn into the mirror as she activated the suit, the jump kit coming to life with a thrum-hiss as it shot out hot exhaust down her legs, the HUD lighting up in her eyes to show her that the suit was running diagnostics. A green indicator popped up, and as a final check, Yuri activated her cloak with a mere thought and watched as her reflection seemingly vanished from the mirror before her very eyes, the kit living up to its name, one she had taken on as her own moniker.
Wraith.
Toggling the tactical gadget off, the tactical cloak faded and Yuris reflection returned. Satisfied her gear was working, the vigilante moved with renewed haste, tossing her street clothes in a hamper before heading back out of the living space. Instead of taking the stairs, Watanabe merely jumped up, the sensors in her skull cap able to pick up the signals transmitted by her brain and passing them through her suit to the jump kit on her back. With a lick of blue flame, the pack launched Yuri up over the railing before she plummeted down to the floor, the exoskeleton absorbing the impact.
The first things she grabbed were utility items, a titanium bladed BJ-2 Combat Knife kept in a leg sheath that Yuri strapped to the lower part of her right leg, the small, handy blade had served her well when she needed it. Then came a set of box like gadgets that Yuri had repainted purple and featured a set of straps, allowing Watanabe to fix them to both wrists. Each device had a plug in for her suit, connected to be controlled by a pair of buttons sewn into the insides of her first knuckle on either hand, enabling a thumb press to toggle the gadgets. Pressing the right one, a two-inch wide stream of elastic yellow material, coated in adhesive, began to spool out. With a double tap, the elastic retracted back into its housing. These had been designed to serve as quick cargo tie downs, and were able to resist tons of force before failing, the mounts were similarly strong, and Yuri found she could use them to haul herself up walls if needed, but they had other applications.
Now amidst the shelves that held her weapons, Watanabe selected a Galil ACE 31, chambered in 7.62x39 mm and featuring a side folding stock and 8.5 inch barrel with attached suppressor, the compact weapon was ideal for tight quarters with stopping power to spare. Stuffing a trio of spare magazines into the pouches on her belt, Yuri slung the gun over her shoulder before picking up a leather-bound case, opening it to check that it held the custom engraved GOL Sniper Magnum, a powerful and finely made bolt action sniper rifle, and its many accessories. The German weapon was far more capable than Yuri was, even with her police sharpshooter training. Still, she made sure to take full advantage of the handcrafted rifle, going so far as to bring the cartridges she had hand loaded herself, because she was most confident in how the 300 grain very-low-drag projectiles would fly when she knew exactly how much propellant was pushing each one along. Last was another weapon stored in a felt lined wooden case, this one bearing the bucking stallion of Colt on its lid. Inside was a pristine blued six shot revolver with wood grips, six-inch barrel, and a distinctive rib along the top of the barrel with three rectangular cutouts. Famed for its accuracy and impeccable quality, the Colt Python, chambered in .357 Magnum, had a serious bite.
Flicking open the cylinder and inserting six of the powerful magnum cartridges, Yuri slid the gun into the holster on her right thigh, the six shooter only adding to the old west parallels. Spare speed loaders were placed in pouches, both on her gun belt and kit belt, to enable her to resupply the whole cylinder in a single motion rather than having to coax six individual bullets into their chambers in the heat of the moment. Even after the entire NYPD had converted to more modern semi-automatic pistols, Yuri had found herself favoring old fashioned revolvers like the one her grandfather had carried, and father too, before he was convicted of taking bribes.
Shoving such thoughts aside, Watanabe picked up the GOL case and carried it to her similarly old school car. While the 1971 Plymouth Barracuda had been rebuilt from the ground up, with almost none of its original parts remaining, the In Violet Hemi 'Cuda still retained all of its old school charm. What was not old school in any way was the performance, with new suspension, shocks, brakes, tires, wheels, and steering, the car was surprisingly agile. All that, combined with the supercharged 426 cubic inch Hemi 'Hellephant' V8 under the massive hood scoop and four speed manual transmission with short early gears and a very tall fourth, meant that there wasn't much around that could keep up with the 'Cuda when Yuri put her foot down.
With her long guns in the back seat and covered with a blanket, just to protect them from any prying eyes, Watanabe settled into the driver's seat. The interior had been given a similar makeover, the dash now was an electronic display set to resemble the old fashioned circular dials, and the steering wheel had been replaced by a more modern, smaller design. Part of Yuri found the modernization distasteful, but that didn't deter her from putting the key into the ignition and bringing the Hellephant to life. The beast of a motor snarled, thrumming like the beating heart it was as Yuri depressed the throttle, hearing the engine growled and supercharger shriek each time.
Satisfied, the Wraith opened the garage door of her abode and slid the stick shift into first gear before uncaging just a few of the 1,000 horses under her right foot to coax the 4,000 pound slab of American Muscle Car out into the Manhattan night.
The man with the Raging Bull on his hip sat striding the Harley Davidson Road King motorbike, coasting to a stop as a light ahead of him turned yellow. Bringing the bike to a halt, he allowed himself to relax as he slowly looked around the reduced traffic at the late hour, noting that few spared him a second glance and smiling faintly. To those around the figure, he was effectively faceless, a useful trait for him.
Reaching into the leather jacket he wore, the man extracted a small PDA linked to the NYPDs crime monitoring system, a holdover from the previous mayoral administration some wanted removed, but it was cheaper to keep, so it was kept. On it showed the location of a vehicle that the man had input earlier that night as the system tracked it across the city.
A rumbling engine caused the man to look up, slipping the PDA back into his jacket just as a purple muscle car pulled up alongside the Harley. The man on the motorcycle let out a low whistle as the gave the car an appreciative look, he mightn't have known much, but he could tell that the car had been well kept, and judging by the growling exhaust note coming out the back, it was as fast as it looked. He tried to peer inside the windows, but they were blacked out enough to where he only saw his own reflection staring back at them.
Clicking his tongue, the figure decided to twist the throttle in his bike in an idle taunt, one that the muscle car returned with a thunderous bellow, accented by the shrill high-pitched whine of a supercharger. Smiling now, the man hit another control on his handlebars, and a blue light flashed for a split second on his bike, prompting the purple car to fall silent.
At that moment, the stoplight turned green, and with a casual wave, the man on the motorcycle hung a left, speeding away form the intersection as he heard the muscle car head off in another direction, each on their own separate mission.
Peering through the Schmitt and Bender 5-25x56 scope atop the GOL Sniper Magnum, Yuri saw the world through the green hues of the night vision mode of her goggles. From her vantage point on a water tower set on a neighboring building, Watanabe looked down upon the seemingly abandoned factory where the truck she had tracked was apparently located. It was in disrepair, covered in graffiti, and the rusted chain link fence around it was strewn with 'keep out' signs. However, Yuri had lived in New York her whole life, and knew that abandoned buildings didn't often have blackout curtains hanging in the windows, running generators outside, or what looked like sentries walking around the premises under external lighting.
While formulating a plan, Watanabe saw another car approaching, a long wheelbase black Mercedes come to a stop outside. Panning the scope over, Yuri watched as the passenger door opened and a man emerged, turning back to she could get a good look at his face. It was James 'Gino' Cantina, a known associate of Carmine Ricca, the up and coming Maggia boss who had just been released that evening. Immediately, Yuri trained her rifle on the car, preparing to line up a shot, but then thought better of it. There was no guarantee that Ricca was still in the car, or who might be inside in the first place. While Watanabe wanted the Maggia man dead, it was a risk she was not comfortable taking.
Instead, the Wraith contented herself with watching Cantina stride past the sentries, greeting them with a wave as they opened a gate for him and let him inside. That all but confirmed that this was a Maggia operation, so when Cantina disappeared inside the factory and the Mercedes pulled away, Yuri got ready to make her presence known. Settling behind the weapon and readjusting her cheek weld, Yuri double checked her range readings, as well as atmospheric conditions and took aim, tweaking the knobs on the scope to account for these variables. With the weapon dialed in, Watanabe settled the crosshairs on a sentry, watching him walk along the same path he had been taking for the last half hour, a path Yuri knew would take him around the corner and out of sight of his comrades in just a few seconds. Regulating her breathing, the Wraith cycled the bolt of her rifle, chambering the first .338 Lapua Magnum cartridge into the weapon. As the man neared the corner, Yuri began to apply the lightest hint of pressure to the trigger, pulling it back as it neared the 'wall' or breaking point before it sent the striker forwards to fire the gun.
Only a sudden flicker of movement in her peripheral vision brought Yuri up short, and she looked over the scope to see the distinct shape of a police motorcycle pass by on the street below, going in the same direction as the car that had dropped off Cantina. Waiting a few beats to ensure the bike was well out of earshot, Yuri lined the shot back up, watching through the scope as the guard leaned against the wall and stuck a cigarette in his mouth. As he went for his lighter, the Wraith released her breath and eased back on the trigger, pulling it with the pad of her finger so it went straight back. The break of the trigger was sudden and crisp, sending the firing pin forwards into the primer, igniting the propellant and sending the round downrange. As the slug exited the barrel, it hit the sound suppressor that had been screwed on the end. The suppressor did not affect the bullet, but the expanding gasses behind it, allowing them to expand in a controlled fashion, preventing a bright muzzle flash and subduing the sound produced by the shot.
The bullet flew through the air at more than 2,500 feet per second so that when the Maggia guard raised the lighter and lit his cigarette, the 300 grain projectile struck home and carved a channel through the man's head. Even as the body fell to the concrete, Yuri was tilting her head to the side, giving her hand the clearance to lift and pull the bolt back, cycling the next cartridge into the chamber before pressing her eye back to the scope. Shifting her body, she acquired the guard standing on the roof, who seemed to be looking around for the source of the noise that was the bullet punching through the sound barrier. He didn't find it before Yuri rested the crosshairs on him and fired a second time. This bullet struck the man just below his nose, slicing through skin and bone before severing his spinal cord as it exited the back of his head, killing him instantly. Cycling the action once more, Yuri methodically picked up the last sentry, the one manning the gate as he called out and made his way to the first guard Yuri had shot. Taking a breath and telling herself to be patient, the Wraith bided her time, waiting until the man had rounded the corner before pulling the trigger, the rifle slamming back into Yuri's shoulder as it sent the round through the Maggia man's heart.
Once more, Yuriko panned her scope over the factory, ensuring there weren't any more sentries outside and that no alarms had been raised despite the earlier shout. When nothing about the building changed, the Wraith stirred, unloading her rifle before unscrewing the suppressor and folding up the bipod, replacing the whole ensemble back into its carrying case. Tucking the leather case behind an HVAC unit and out of sight, Watanabe retrieved the ACE 31 and slipped her left arm and head through the single point sling before she pulled the charging handle back, chambering the first 7.62mm round into the gun.
Activating her cloak, the Wraith dropped off the edge of the building and into the alleyway below, the jump kit she wore igniting to slow her fall just before her boots kissed the asphalt. With time being of the essence, the vigilante sprinted across the street under the cover of her cloak, one foot hitting the curb before she launched herself up, using the jump kit to propel her over the top of the chain link fence. When she came down on the other side, the Wraith rolled back onto her feet, sprinting the last dozen yards to the wall of the factory just as her cloak expired.
Pressing herself against the wall, Yuri caught her breath, keeping the ACE tucked close to her as she moved down the wall, away from the street. She moved towards the sizable diesel generator that had produced enough noise to cover the shots from the suppressed GOL. Casting a quick glance over the machine, Yuri extended the Ripper blades from her left gauntlet and slashed through the cables coming out of the machine. Sparking uselessly as they flopped to the ground, the lights outside went out, a sure sign that no power was going inside the factory either, a sure way to get someone's attention.
Letting the ACE fall against her torso and activating her mask's night vision function, goggles rotating to align the correct lenses, the vigilante unspooled a length of the yellow strap from her right wrist before throwing the adhesive coated elastic up the length of the wall and stuck the end near the top. Engaging the motor on the device, Yuri merely planted one foot ahead of the other as she walked up the vertical surface, the gadget pulling her up the wall. Ten feet up, Yuri ceased her ascent, and not a moment too soon. Hearing heavy footfalls approach, the Wraith activated her cloak once again, rendering her invisible in the darkness as the footsteps got closer.
"Now what's wrong with this fuckin' thing," grumbled the man as he ambled towards the sabotaged generator, only Yuri never gave him a chance to assess the damage. With a press of the button on her glove, an electric current was sent out that temporarily deactivated the adhesive, and the vigilante fell from her elevated position. Gritting her teeth as she fell, Watanabe thrust the twin blades out and plunged them into the man's back, her momentum dragging them down as she descended, ripping through flesh and bone until the pair of gashes down the man's back were long, bloody, and fatal. Retracting the blood covered blades, Yuri went back the way the Maggia man had come, ACE at the ready in case he hadn't been alone.
Coming around the backside of the building, the Wraith found a door that had been left partly open and gave it a push the rest of the way, seeing that the inside was just even darker than the exterior. "What the hell Tony? Why aren't the goddamn lights fixed?" shouted someone as Yuri got her bearings. Sidestepping and staying with her back to the wall, the Wraith went to work, peering into the pitch blackness to see who was trapped in here with her.
Spying the man calling out to his dead compatriot and see that he was alone, the Wraith crept towards him, carefully circling the Maggia thug to stay out of sight. Foolishly, the man approached the door, running his hand along one of the many tables filling the open area to guide himself, but this only served to separate him from the other three men in the room. With light steps, Yuri rounded a table and snuck up behind the unsuspecting goon as she unspooled a strap yet again. Biding her time, Yuri closed the distance, tucking her carbine under her left arm as she grabbed the strap and wrapped it around her off hand until she was just a step behind the Maggia thug. "Tony? C'mon this ain't funny. Answer me! Answ… urgh!"
His calls were cut off as the Wraith slipped the strap around his throat and reeled it in, pulling back with all her strength as the servos in the exoskeleton arms worked in concert to bring the thug to the ground. He made a futile attempt to fight against the strap crushing his airway, but Yuri pressed a knee to his back and yanked back on the strap clutched in her grasp with singular purpose. After a few moments of useless struggle, the Maggia man collapsed to the cold concrete floor, Yuri wrapping the strap and reeling it in before activating her cloak and darting back to the edge of the room.
"Marco? What the hell?" shouted another before he was promptly shushed and soon the men had flashlights out, a trio of beams sweeping the otherwise darkened room. "Come the fuck out whoever you are!"
"Yeah, we ain't afraid o' you!" shouted a second before a burst of automatic gunfire was sprayed wildly across the room. "Who do you think you are? We're…." His taunt was cut off by a trio of 7.62 mm slugs punching holes in his lungs, causing him to choke on the blood that began to fill them. Before the other two could react, Yuri set her sights on the other henchman and pulled the trigger again, this time firing four bullets, two going into the man's chest, one his neck, and the fourth blowing off his jaw as he too fell to the floor in a bloody heap.
The last man standing, Cantina, looked down at the bodies of his cohorts and visibly flinched as he clutched his own handgun, waving it about frantically. "Holy shit… holy shit… holy shit!" he cursed, punctuating each exclamation with a gunshot into the darkness. His shots only found empty air, the Wraith having relocated as soon as she had finished shooting. Through the googles, she could see the man's mouth hanging open as he breathed in loud enough for the vigilante to hear it despite the distance that separated them. While he looked around in horror, holding up his gun and flashlight, the man tensed visibly before turning and making a break for the door Yuri had entered.
Unfortunately for Cantina, the Wraith was lying in wait, a length of adhesive strap already unspooled as she slung the end out towards his furiously pumping legs. Yuri's aim was true, and the end wrapped around his shoe, sticking fast and tripping the man out as he fell forwards and skidded across the concrete, his gun clattering away. Having ensnared the Maggia boss, the Wraith severed the strap and grabbed hold of the end before leaping up, jump kit spitting out licks of flame to propel the vigilante up into the rafters. Shoving her hand forward, Yuri stuck the other end of the strap ensnaring Cantina to the metal beam before dropping back down to the floor, knees and exo taking the impact.
Turning back around, Yuri was temporarily blinded by the flashlight being directed at her and quickly flipped off her night vision googles. Looking at the inverted form of Cantina, Watanabe saw recognition slam into the mobster like a sledgehammer, "Yo… you… you're…." After another round of fruitless struggles as Yuri stared at the Maggia boss with the blank expression of her mask, Cantina composed himself and spoke to the Wraith again. "You need me!" he blurted out.
When Yuri tilted her head, she saw the small grin begin to grow on the Maggia man's features, "Yeah, yeah you do. The Maggia ain't through yet," he declared with a surprising degree of smugness considering the circumstances.
"Yet," hissed Watanabe, silencing Cantina as he swung idly from the ceiling. Reaching for her leg, the Wraith produced the Python from its holster and made sure the Maggia boss got a good look at the Magnum Revolver. "Do you want to live to see it?" she asked lowly, thumb idly caressing the hammer of the Colt. Taken aback by her words, Cantina didn't answer, and so Yuri emphasized the situation by reaching out and snatching the flashlight from his hand. "That," began the vigilante, shining the light on the bags of white powder sitting beside the truck, "Is cocaine. Colombian cocaine," she emphasized. "Since when does the Maggia work with the cartels?"
Silence was her only answer.
"Can't have been very long," mused Watanabe, "In fact, this is a small shipment, maybe even the first, a trial run," deduced the former NYPD Captain. The flashlight was then shined back in Cantina's face, causing him to screw his eye shut. "And nobody is going to be happy that you let it go to shit. So I can leave you here to take your chances with them," began Yuri before turning the light back to point at herself, reminding Cantina exactly who he was dealing with, "Or you can tell me what I need to know."
"And what… what is that?" replied the Maggia boss.
"Your mole in the NYPD, who is it?" asked Yuri. When she didn't get an answer right away, the vigilante thumbed the hammer back on the Python, letting out an audible 'click' to emphasize her question.
"You mean Hammerhead's guy? I dunno, he was talking to all the new bosses for a while, went quiet a few weeks ago, got waxed was the story I heard. I never talked to him; he would only speak to Ricca. That's all I know, nobody never told me his name or nuthin," replied the Maggia boss, "Whaddaya' asking about him for?"
Yuri nodded once, simply stating "Thank you for your cooperation."
"Hey, now so…. Wait, what are you do…" cried Cantina as the Wraith leveled the Python with his head and pulled the trigger, the thunderous report of the revolver echoing through the factory. Now missing a piece of his head, the Maggi boss swung from the ceiling, bits of brain matter dripping out of his skull and onto the floor beneath him. Eying the body without a shred of pity or remorse, Watanabe holstered the smoking gun and set to work.
The Wraith policed her brass, collecting the spent casings to leave behind as little evidence as possible. Confident she had done all she could, Yuri set about sanitizing the scene, finding a jerry can of gasoline and pouring it over the bags of cocaine stacked on the tables before pouring the rest out to make a trail on the floor. After grabbing the impromptu tracker off the truck, Yuri pulled a lighter from her pocket, emblazoned with the shield of the NYPD, and flicked it on.
Casting one last glance at the scene, the Wraith then crouched down and introduced the flame to the gasoline, watching the liquid ignite and the flames quickly spread to the illicit narcotics. The fire quickly took hold of the drugs and began to immolate them in short order. Satisfied, Watanabe turned and made good her escape, returning to collect her rifle and the .338 brass from her earlier position. Less than ten minutes later, the purple Plymouth was heading back across Manhattan.
Wearing a form fitting latex dress that barely covered her rear and showing a substantial amount of augmented cleavage, a woman known to many as 'Tootsie' strutted down the sidewalk, the heels of her knee high boots clicking with each step. The beach blonde woman was in a good mood, having just finished a session with one of her regular customers, a Wall Street broker stepping out on his wife who paid well and didn't take up much of her time. That alone had made her enough money for her to comfortably call it a night, but Tootsie looked at the time and, seeing it was still early enough for her, decided to prowl the streets to see if she could pick up a little extra.
While there weren't many other pedestrians out at the late hour, many of them cast looks at the hooker as she strode past, eying them in return to see if any of them might've been able to afford her. After three blocks, none had caught the woman's eye, and she considered heading back to her apartment when she heard the screech of car breaks on the road next to her and turned to see a large black Mercedes sedan along the curb next to her. The back door was open, and a middle aged man in an expensive suit was in the back seat, beckoning her to get in.
Smiling at this opportunity, Tootsie turned to the open door and leaned down, bracing her hand on the roof of the car, looking inside and ensuring she gave the man in the back a clear view of her augmented assets. "Hey there Mister," she husked, fluttering her eye lashes, "See something you like?"
"Sure do sweetheart," replied the suited man in a heavy accent, not hiding his gaze as it drifted south of Tootise's eyes. "It's been a while, but I'd recognize those legs of yours anywhere Tootsie," he said, and the bleach blonde scrutinized him for a moment. A memory did come back, she remembered this man, Carmine, from the several times he had shelled out for her services. She heard he'd gotten into some trouble with the law some months ago, and part of her was wary about that, but not enough to step away from a proven customer, and a generous tipper at that. "And I'm a free man now, a free man who's looking to celebrate tonight. What'll it cost to have you celebrate with me for a few hours Tootsie?"
"Two big ones," replied the hooker in her sultriest tone, "You look like you're good for it big guy, and I assure you that I'm more than worth it." To emphasize her offer, Tootsie brought her hand up to cup one of her breasts, pressing it against her dress until it was nearly spilling out. "What do you say Mister?"
Carmine turned to the man in the passenger seat and made a gesture before he was handed a wad of bills from the man up there. The suited Maggia boss counted the money, with Tootsie doing the same. "Here," offered Carmine, extending his hand with the money in it, "Here's a thousand, you'll get the rest after we're done."
Smiling, Tootsie slid into the car, right up next to her customer and took his money, stuffing down her cleavage while making sure to give him an eyeful. Satisfied, the hooker closed the door, which the driver took as his signal to get moving, the big car smoothly pulling away from the curb and back onto the street. Already, the man's hand was starting to run along her leg, only for the prostitute to slap it away, "Your time hasn't started yet Mister," she reminded him.
But before he could answer, alternating red and blue light began to flash behind the Mercedes, prompting a wave of dread to wash over Tootsie as she spun in the seat to see a motorcycle behind them was the source. "Aw fuck," cursed Carmine, "Pull over Enrico, play it cool fellas, you too doll."
Nodding, Tootsie separated from her client and straightened in the seat as the driver steered the big sedan off the street and into an alley before coming to a halt. In the corner of her eye, the hooker saw the figure of the cop approach the driver's window before rapping his knuckles on the glass. Just like his boss said, the driver played it cool, rolling down the window, "Good evening officer," he greeted.
"Do you know why I pulled you over tonight sir?" asked the officer, stiff as a post. Enrico just shook his head. "I pulled you over because you ran past that stop sign back there," informed the lawman. "I need to see your driver's license."
"Aw, come on man, what ya' talkin' about? There isn't no stop sign back there you…" retorted the driver, called only by his boss placing a hand on his shoulder.
Rolling down his own window, Carmine then spoke directly to the cop. "We don't want any trouble officer," began the Maggia boss, faux sincerity dripping off the words like butter, "We were eager to return home is all."
Tootsie never even saw the cop's face, her eyes fixed on the badge on his breast, the car blocking her view of anything above that. Biting her lip, the hooker hoped the situation could be resolved without her being dragged into it; because her night had been going well and she didn't want it to end with being dragged to jail. Thankfully, it seemed that the Maggia men were of the same mind, and Enrico produced his license and handed it over to the cop, who took it and returned to his bike.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Carmine leaned forwards to the man in the passenger seat and spoke in hushed tones. "Bruno, I want you to find out who this guy is, and then I want him off the streets by Monday. See if our guy on the inside can do it, if he won't, then do it yourself."
"Got it boss," grunted the slab of a man up front, and Tootsie didn't have to guess who he was, not when his neck was as big around as her thigh. Humming in content, Carmine leaned back in his seat and flashed her a reassuring smile, though his teeth were still set on edge.
A minute later, the cop returned, Enrico's license in one hand and the other low, out of sight of the cars occupants. "Here's your license sir, I'm going to let you off on a warning for this tonight. Be more careful in the future."
The driver chuckle as he took his ID back, "I will officer."
"Before I let you go, there's one more thing," said the cop in the same menacing tone. And that was when Tootsie saw it, the officer's other hand came up, holding the biggest gun the prostitute had ever seen, and the bright silver weapon was pressed to the driver's skull before it fired. When the ear shattering report faded, Tootsie found that she was screaming as blood splattered on her dress and was totally helpless as Enrico slumped against the steering wheel. The big gun then turned to point at Bruno, the hitman reaching for his own gun, but failed to get it out before the silver hand cannon fired again. With the muzzle flash lighting up the interior of the car, Tootsie saw that the barrel had the words 'Raging Bull' engraved into it.
Carmine tried to grab the weapon, but it was turned to him next, and the cop fired two more times, the massive slugs tearing through the gangster and burying themselves into the seat behind him before a third round went into Carmine's head, causing it to pop like a melon. Frantically, Tootsie's hand searched for the door handle, desperate for some means to escape, only when she tugged she found that the door was still locked. Her screaming became desperate as she turned back to the cop, only to see that top and saw the muzzle of that big 'Raging Bull' pointed right at her before it flashed one more time and then her whole world went black.
Closing Notes: That'll do it for this opening chapter, hopefully it was good enough to convince you to check out the next one. If you have comments or critiques, then there should be a review button down there for you to leave those, and I'll respond to them in the next chapter, which should be out on May 18. The only thing I ask is that you don't spoil plot points in your review if you think you know what the movie I'm taking inspiration from is.
That next chapter will be The Unforgiven.
Stay Frosty, Misfit Delta out.