A.N. General disclaimer for all things copyright. I do not own the characters, setting, or lore utilized in the creation of this piece. My work is inspired by the creative thought of the original authors
Stopping on a street corner she check her pocket watch, a small golden thing that came with the outfit. Flipping open the case she scrunched her face at the time, before closing it and moving on.
Four hours of patrolling and not a single crime.
Oh, sure, people were jaywalking whenever and she saw more than a few cars just run the light because they could, but she didn't really care about that stuff.
No, she was after more worthy prey.
That said, how was she she supposed to help the city if nothing happened!? She even changed her route, heading deeper into the Docks instead of going Downtown, hoping to find someone, anyone, doing something gang related or otherwise nefarious.
She sighed as she walked, her footsteps clicking against the sidewalk. She had, at first, tried to stick to the darkened areas, ally ways and behind buildings, before realizing how silly she looked. After the first hour of finding nothing, and the disappointing let down that it had triggered, she decided to just give up pretense and walk out in the open.
Sure, some people took some pictures, interested in an unfamiliar cape walking around, but that was to be expected. She had given a few nods to some people headed home, those interested in greeting her rather than worried that she was some new villain. While not many villains were so bold to just walk around in public like she was, those that were usually shouldn't be trifled with, their confidence backed up by a serious amount of power.
Ultimately it didn't stop her from being disappointed. She was a hero! She was trying to make the city better! How was she going to do that without any crime to stop!?
Maybe she should get a radio, but she wouldn't even know where to begin with that. She didn't even have a cell phone, thanks in large part to the stigma that hung over her family due to how her mother had died. There had to be a better way to get the ball rolling than just going out for a night and stumbling on a crime.
The sound of gunshot rang out, a loud burst that echoed down the street.
Taylor started running, her blood rushing as her body awoke.
It took nearly a minute to reach the source of the shot, an ally way located just a couple of streets from the main road. She stopped at the mouth of the ally, her boots skidding slightly, her heart stopping at the sight.
Three young men, their clothes disheveled and slightly torn, had two people hostage. The man, someone slightly older by the gray sprinkling his hair, lay next to a dumpster, hand on a bloody shoulder, while a woman of similar age in nice clothes was knelt next to him, pleading for their lives. The young men were laughing, some kind of cacophony of malice, and were speaking in some kind of language.
It wasn't hard to peg them as ABB. They had attacked a older, seemingly well to do couple, for power and gain, for status and pride. They were monsters, attacking civilians who were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Good thing she was a hunter.
She started toward them, breaking into a run, her body alright with power and energy. She made it six feet before they even realized she was there. Another five as they panicked in the presence of a cape. She rushed four feet before a response was ordered.
She got to within five feet of the man with the gun before he pulled the trigger.
Time shifted, moving slower than she had ever seen. She could see the bullet, a small thing that came rushing out of the barrel, a trail of fire slowly expanding into a bloom behind it. The people were moving so slow that she could barely see them breathing, one taking seconds to shut his eyes in a blink. She focused on the bullet and her situation. She wasn't going to let it hit her, that was for sure. Her regeneration didn't work outside of the workshop. She had to be careful.
Still, which way to dodge was her biggest concern. She was in a tight ally way, some trash bags and various discarded boxes lining the sides. It would be a pain to have to move through that stuff, and filth wasn't something she wanted on her any time soon. So, really, that left only one choice.
She threw herself forward into a roll, her body tumbling just under the bullet as it continued, her feet gaining traction and propelling her into a run, her speed never breaking.
Time snapped back and she caught the widened eyes of the asian thug as she reached him, disbelief flooding his features.
Taylor timed her footwork, her left foot coming forward as the corresponding hand backhanded the pistol from his hand, a sharp cracking sound echoing across the ally. With her foot planted she swung her right fist forward, throwing her momentum into the punch, driving her knuckles into his chest.
She felt more than she saw his sternum cave in, the bones virtually disintegrating under the strength of her punch. There was less a cracking sound and more the sound of slapping meat, something you would hear in a butcher shop. An instant later the man dropped, his a shout arrested by heavy breathing and moaning.
She caught herself just in time to not trip, catching her weight on her right foot. As she watched the man drop she scanned for the others, weary of an ambush.
They were already running away.
She started forward but stopped after a few steps, restraining herself from moving forward. She shook from the effort it took to not chase them down, to finish what she started, to purge the monsters. Would if she could, but she had civilians to take care of.
Taylor took a deep breath, willing her body to calm down, and took several more as her blood cooled. She turned, minding a knife that had been dropped, and made her way back to the couple.
The woman, who had been previously petrified with fear, was busying worrying over the man, her husband, and his wound. He seemed to be in decent spirits about the situation, smiling at her efforts as he kept a hand on it to apply pressure.
The gun man, however, was not in good spirits. He wasn't in any spirit, really. Instead, he was on the ground, body pulled into a fetal position, his right hand, a twisted mass of fingers and exposed bone that made Taylor somewhat queasy, cradled to his belly. He was coughing up some blood, which made her mildly concerned, but he didn't look like he'd die anytime soon.
She walked up to the couple, interrupting their antics, and spoke as she knelt down to the man, "Sir, are you alright?"
He was looking her over, so was the wife, her outfit so different from anything in the city. She could see the hesitation they had, the wariness, something that everyone had with a new cape. They didn't know her, couldn't trust her motives. Maybe she was in a gang just fighting off some rivals? Maybe she wanted their belongings for herself?
She had to nip that in the bud.
"I have some bandages. We can wrap up the wound while waiting for an ambulance."
The man seemed to look into her eyes, a pair of green that held nothing but a desire to help, before nodding, motioning for his wife to help.
It took a few minutes, and most of her gauze, but they had him wrapped up somewhat decently. The wife, apparently, was someone with some kind of medical experience and did most of the work while Taylor helped steady him.
As they finished she turned to look at the gun man.
Yep, still alive and still moaning. A bit more blood so that was probably bad. Better get help.
"Do either of you have a cell phone?"
The wife responded as she reached into her bag, "Yes, I do! Oh, we should've called the very first thing. They could've been here by now."
Taylor wasn't going to argue that. It was true, after all.
The woman fished out her phone, one of those fancy touch phones, and promptly called the only number that mattered in a situation like this. It was barely seconds before she got an answer.
"Hello? Yes, my husband and I need help, we were attacked by some thugs and he's been shot! What? No, it was in the shoulder, but he's been bleeding a lot, he's got a problem with that. Yes, we've been applying pressure. I work at the hospital and he's fine, but we need help! Where are we?"
It was about that time that Taylor tuned her out, not really caring to follow a pretty conventional 911 call. She busied herself with checking on the gunman, who had graduated from moaning to whimpering, and trying to wipe the blood of her gloves.
She hated having blood on her. The locker had seen to that.
After a minute the woman called out to her, "They want to know who you are!"
Taylor looked over, the wife and husband looking at her with not so hidden anticipation. A new cape was always an exciting thing, no matter who you are. Sure, being in this situation was probably sobering, but really anyone would be a little excited about meeting a new hero that saved their life.
She cursed that she hadn't taken the time to work out a good name. It was hard! All the good names were taken! She wanted to be unique, something that really differentiated herself from everyone else. She wasn't like normal capes. She fought for the people, the civilians, not for a winning side, not for popularity or respect.
She was hunting because someone had too.
"Uhh, I don't really have a name, yet. I'm just someone trying to fix things. A hunter for the beasts, you know?"
By the looks on their faces she assessed that, no, they didn't know. Smooth Taylor, real smooth. Still, woman nodded and relayed the information.
Taylor wilted somewhat. Great, now the PRT was gong to give her some stupid, generic name like Hunter Girl or something. Damn it, why didn't she think that through!? She was so caught up in going out and saving people that she forgot one of the most important parts to a cape identity.
She checked up on the gun man, trying to distract herself from the ball of worry building up. He seemed to be having an issue with coughing up blood so she dragged a trash bag over and propped his head up. She had read somewhere that keeping it elevated helped or something.
Really she was just trying not to think about how creepy she sounded or how dumb a name someone would give her.
"Miss?"
She stopped, turning back to the man as he straightened up against the dumpster, wincing from the action. He looked up at her, a smile gracing his slightly wrinkled face, "I just wanted to think you for helping us. I don't know what would've happened otherwise."
She nodded, a smile hidden behind her mask. She wasn't looking for thank yous and grateful acts, but it sure made her feel good. She was doing something that mattered, even if she only caught one bad guy. Sure, he could get out, but with the damage that he sustained he'll probably think twice about going out and doing something that bad again.
The woman pulled her phone away, announcing the end of the call, "They said they'll be here in a few minutes. Apparently we weren't the only people attacked around here. They've been having an issue keeping up."
Taylor frowned. Why were the ABB gathering here? Their reckless behavior was just drawing attention to themselves. What was the point?
Her eyes narrowed in thought. Could it be a distraction? Were they drawing attention for something else?
She needed to investigate, find out what was going on before the hunt was over.
"I'm going to leave you here then. This guy isn't going anywhere so don't worry about him. If your worried the gun wound up over there and there is a knife just a few feet to my left. The other two are long gone now and I doubt they'll be back."
With her words said and a couple of 'thank yous' received, she turned and continued down the ally way, making her way deeper into the Docks and to whatever was being plotted.