Author's Note: This chapter follows on from Chapter 10: Part I – Predator Endgame of my other story A Predator Forgotten.

Monday, May 16th, 2016

For Rachel Clarkson, the previous two years had been actual hell on earth.

For the Yorkshire Ambulance Service paramedic, she had had no idea that the extra shift and an emergency trip out had saved her life. She had had no idea that she had come within an inch of going the same way as her husband had it not been for an urgent message calling her into work. For over two years, Rachel had had no idea what had happened to her husband and only daughter – they had simply vanished. Then, out of nowhere, a man had knocked on the door and dropped off her daughter. A daughter who was just three days short of her eleventh birthday and very different to the young almost nine-year-old whom she had kissed goodbye on that fateful morning back in March 2014.

The youngster was cold, dismissive, resentful.

Valley Drive
Ilkley, West Yorkshire
United Kingdom

It had been an afternoon, just like any other.

Rachel had returned home after her shift and she had eagerly kicked off her boots, tired after rampaging around Leeds, saving lives and extracting bodies. There had been a particularly nasty murder and the body had ultimately come out in two pieces – gruesome! After making herself a steaming mug of Yorkshire Tea – her favourite blend – Rachel sat down on the sofa and she took a brief sip before leaning back and relishing the moment.

Then had come the knock on the door.

Rachel grimaced as she put down her mug on the small table beside where she sat at one end of the sofa and she got to her feet. A few short steps, and she was in the hallway, peering through the spyhole set into her front door. There was a man standing there – he wore a dark suit and looked very like a police detective. She was fairly certain of her identification as she worked daily with the police – uniformed and otherwise. Cautiously, Rachel Clarkson unlocked the door and she eased it open.

"Yes?"

"Special Branch, ma'am."

The man proffered his identity folder – Rachel had seen them before and she recognised it for what it was . . . trouble.

"Okay – what's going on?" Rachel asked suspiciously.

"May we come in?"

"We?"

The man turned to look to his right. "Come here, girl!"

Rachel was very surprised to see a young girl appear to stand beside the man. It took a little more than a moment before Rachel's hands shot to her mouth.

"Oh . . . my . . . God! Rylee!"

Ten minutes later, the man was gone, and Rachel was sitting on the sofa next to her daughter. Rachel had dreamed of finding Rylee on so many occasions and she had expected it to be a happy occasion full of love. Instead, it was like Rylee was a total stranger. It was definitely Rylee, of that, Rachel was certain. The girl appeared uneasy, distant. It was like she had no idea where she was. They had hugged, but only briefly and it had been very one-sided. The man had mentioned something about Rylee being a . . . what was it? A Predator . . . what the hell did that even mean? However, after about forty minutes of almost total silence, Rylee stood up.

"Can I get something to eat, please, Mum?"

Rachel suddenly felt very strange – it was the very first time, in a long time, that anybody had used that very special word . . . Mum.

"Of course, honey."

Rachel watched Rylee's every move as the girl, who was a good six inches taller than before, made herself a peanut butter sandwich – her favourite, Rachel remembered. Rylee also helped herself to a large glass of cold milk from the fridge before making for the dining table and sitting down like no time had passed. Rachel was struggling to prevent the tears from falling as her only child sat eating a sandwich and drinking her milk. As far as Rachel could tell, Rylee was healthy and all in one piece. However, Rachel's extensive medical background allowed her to gauge Rylee's health much deeper. The young girl had pronounced muscles on her upper arms and thighs, not to mention a thousand-yard stare which indicated psychological issues of some kind. A part of Rachel compared Rylee to the teenage thugs she often treated for knife wounds – but her little girl was no thug . . . was she? Rylee did not want anything else to eat, instead she simply sat on the sofa to stare at the TV. As nine o'clock rolled around, Rylee asked if she could go to bed.

"You don't need to ask, honey."

Rachel followed her daughter up the stairs and into Rylee's old bedroom. The room was almost exactly as it had been left, right down to the décor which had matched the departing eight-year-old rather than the arriving almost eleven-year-old. Naturally, Rachel was totally unprepared for her daughter's return and there were no pyjamas for Rylee. The bed was also unsuitable as it was not even made.

"I need a shower."

"You know where the bathroom is."

Rylee vanished, and Rachel soon heard the shower running. About twenty minutes later, during which time Rachel had remade Rylee's bed with fresh bedding, Rylee returned from her shower. Rather surprisingly, she was completely naked. Rachel was surprised by how physically fit her daughter was but a little unnerved by various scars on the ten-year-old's body.

"Towel's are in the airing cupboard," Rachel pointed out.

"Thanks, Mum."

Rylee soon returned with a towel wrapped around herself and her hair mostly dry.

"I'm sorry, Rylee, but I have no pyjamas that will fit you – you've grown quite a bit."

Rachel was over the moon to see the first grin appear since Rylee had arrived just a few hours before.

"I s'pose I have. I'll sleep as I am."

With that, Rylee dropped the towel and she slipped under the duvet and laydown.

"Night, honey . . . I'm really happy that you're back."

"I'm happy to be back too, Mum."

"Love you," Rachel said as she bent down to kiss her daughter.

"I love you too, Mum."

"Sleep tight . . ."

". . . and don't let the bed bugs bite," Rylee finished off.

Rylee had no idea where that had come from.

Her mother saying the first two words had been enough for her memory to bring forth the rest. The past few days had been a maelstrom of activity. First had come the attack, followed by the rescue. Next, there had been so many questions asked of her before she had been spirited out of France and back to the United Kingdom. It had all been a blur to the youngster whose life had suddenly changed in a second, just like before. It had surprised her that she had not been happier about being rescued and brought home. She could not remember what her mother had even looked like – and that had scared her. However, the moment she had laid eyes on her Mum, her brain had told her that she was home and that she was safe. It had taken Rylee time to come to terms with being back in the house she had left over two years before, to go shoplifting. That had surprised Rylee, too – she had actually remembered that fateful trip to Tesco. Maybe it was the familiar surroundings, but things were starting to come back to the youngster, bit by bit.

There was one problem, though, she missed her companions. For the very first time in two years, she felt very lonely. Would she ever see Simon and Tanya again? They had been separated while in France and she had felt alone from that moment on. She had always had Simon and Tanya – her two closest companions. They had always been there for her. Where were they? Were they safe? She had been lucky to have a home to return to. She knew that her mother loved her, but Rylee had been away for so long, that Rylee was struggling to feel love for anybody. Yes, she had told her Mum that she loved her, but there was no meaning in the statement, Rylee had realised.

Only time would heal the mental wounds, she thought as she fell asleep.

Three days later
Wednesday, May 18th, 2016

Valley Drive

Money was tight – very tight – but Rachel did everything within her power to make her daughter's birthday a happy occasion.

She had bought her daughter all new clothing – as the girl appeared to have nothing more than those clothes which she was standing up in. A big chocolate birthday cake, Rylee's favourite, was adorned with eleven candles and had pride of place on the kitchen table. As was the norm, Rylee was up early, and she immediately noticed that something was amiss as soon as she entered the kitchen. Her mother was grinning like a Cheshire cat and there was a big balloon hovering near the kitchen ceiling, restrained by a string tied to a kitchen chair. The balloon simply stated: 'Happy Eleventh Birthday!'. Then there was the ginormous card, in an equally ginormous envelope, which Rylee was handed by her mother. The card was almost as tall as Rylee and was the very biggest that Rylee had ever seen.

As the brand new eleven-year-old ripped open the envelope, Rachel was all nerves as she waited for her daughter's response. The card was a photo of a small girl, maybe five-years-old. Rylee grinned – it was herself, some six years before, looking very sweet and innocent. Inside the card, her mother had written a simple greeting.

To my lovely little girl

Welcome Home, Rylee!

Happy Birthday

Love Mum
xxxx

Rylee did not know what to say, but she felt an overwhelming urge to cry and to hug her mother. Rylee did both, sobbing into her mother's shoulder for several minutes. That feeling which had been missing, it had returned. She felt intense love for her mother and she never wanted to let go of her. Finally, though, Rylee released her mother and she was shocked to see her mother with tears of her own.

"How about some presents, honey?" Rachel said as she pointed at the small pile of wrapped items.

Rylee wiped away her tears before delving into the presents. Rylee knew that her mother did not have a lot of money to spare and she was very grateful for the ever-increasing mountain of clothing – jeans, boots, trainers, T-shirts, jackets, skirts, knickers.

"I hope they're suitable, honey. I noticed you don't need a bra yet."

"Nah, not started any of that shit yet," Rylee replied, pausing as her mother frowned deeply at the profanity.

"Sorry – picked up some new words," Rylee grinned, to which her mother raised an eyebrow. "Can we do the cake?"

Rachel saw the eager expression on her daughter's face and she laughed. Once the candles were lit, Rylee hesitated before she took a deep breath and she blew the lot out in a single blow.

"That was a lot of hot air," Rachel commented as she passed her daughter a large kitchen knife to cut the cake.

Rachel frowned again as Rylee nonchalantly flipped the knife over in her fingers in a demonstration of extreme dexterity before expertly cutting the cake and removing two large slices. The Clarkson family sat down at the kitchen table and they dug into their plates of chocolate cake. Before long, Rachel grinned as her daughter eagerly downed the cake, ignoring the chocolate gathering around her mouth.

Chocolate cake was not the normal fare for breakfast in the Clarkson household and never had been, but it was a very special day for Rachel Clarkson . . . it was also turning into a very special day for the young Rylee Clarkson.

..._...

That afternoon as Rylee sat on the sofa in a selection of her new clothing, her mother broke the bad news.

"We need to get you back to school, honey."

"Why?"

"Because the law says you need to attend school until you are eighteen, honey."

Rylee had already considered that fact and she was worried. She assumed, quite rightly, that the same children she had known previously would still be there – only older like she was.

"Okay."

"I'll arrange for you to visit on Friday . . . just to get used to things. Then you can start properly on Monday."

"Okay."

Rachel Clarkson sat back on the sofa, leaving her daughter to watch TV. Monosyllabic responses had been the norm, and Rachel was still learning when her daughter was not in a very talkative mood. Rachel had so many questions for her daughter but gauging when to ask was proving difficult.

"Can you tell me what happened to you, honey?"

"Not right now, Mum."

It was an expected response, but Rachel had to know what her daughter had endured during the years she had been missing. Rylee looked very much the same, albeit she was taller. But the smiling, laughing eight-year-old was gone, replaced by a sullen, monosyllabic, eleven-year-old. Her brown eyes were the same, but there was something different, a hardened darkness which stared out. What could the youngster have been through in her over two years of absence? The man who had deposited her daughter back home had not said much, apart from the brief mention that somebody would be along to explain everything. However, nobody had come. Rachel had changed her life, once again. It had taken months to get used to coming home to a permanently empty house. It had taken months to get used to sleeping in a bed alone. It had taken months to get used to the fact that her only child was gone, never to return. It had taken months for Rachel to build up the strength to slowly pack up her missing daughter's belongings. It had been heart-breaking, and the trauma had almost cost Rachel her job – almost.

Her job had been all that had ultimately kept her sane for two whole years of being alone.

Two days later
Friday, May 20th, 2016

Tesco, Ilkley

Rylee decided to brave the place where things had gone so very wrong over two years previously.

At ten o'clock, that morning, Rylee set foot into the Tesco store. Much had changed, including the layout. For some reason, Rylee found herself noticing things which she had never noticed before. She picked up on the security cameras, her mind cataloguing each and identifying the blind spots for each darkened dome. She clocked every exit and every choke point. She found her mind operating on autopilot and she had no control over the tactical information which flooded into her brain to be catalogued and filed. As she strolled up and down the aisles, Rylee sensed movement, but she restrained herself from any overt action.

"Rylee?"

Rylee looked up into the face of the same manager from when she had been taken, so long ago.

"Hello," Rylee replied.

"It's been a while – you been away?" Tamsin Holloway asked.

"Something like that – just got back."

"You weren't in some sort of secure home were you . . . because of the er, police?"

"Not really."

"You going to be stealing anything?"

"Nah – that's in the past . . . however, you are being robbed; that man over there, he's shoved two sirloin steaks under his shirt and that girl; she's just stolen two DVDs."

"You're kidding."

"Your store," Rylee replied, shrugging her shoulders.

The manager spoke into her radio and within minutes, both shoplifters had been apprehended. After calling the police, the manager sought out Rylee, finding the girl perusing the magazines.

"Thank you, Rylee. How did you know?"

"Just a feeling," Rylee grinned.

Later that day

Ilkley Grammar School

It was a different school, but the faces were the same.

As Rylee walked into the school with her mother, she recognised both friends and antagonists. From the expressions and chatter, Rylee could tell that they recognised her, too. Rylee figured that she might be in for a rough time on the Monday. She also knew that she could not fightback in the way she felt most comfortable with. She was no longer at an Urban Predator training facility where a few punches or kicks never hurt anybody. However, Rylee could hurt people psychologically without them even knowing they were being hurt.

The headteacher did not appear the type to put up with any nonsense, Rylee noticed, but again, Rylee had ways of making people come around to her way of thinking. There were quite a few difficult questions, including those concerning the large gap in Rylee's educational timeline. Yes, she had attended a school, her mother had tried to explain without knowing anything more. Rylee had felt like blurting out the fact that she was an eleven-year-old assassin trained to kill in over a hundred different ways as part of a freak program called Urban Predator.

Finally, after an otherwise agonising interview, Rylee was welcomed to join Year 7 on the Monday.

..._...

If Rylee thought that that was the end of the day's humiliation, she was very much mistaken as, once they were home, her mother produced the uniform which Rylee was to wear come Monday.

"A skirt? Tights?" Rylee protested. "What do you think I am?"

"You're a girl," Rachel replied. "You were born a girl, and from what I saw of you the other week, you're still a girl."

Rylee scowled.

"I've not worn a skirt, or tights for that matter, in years, Mum."

"Well, it's time for you to get back into the habit, young lady."

Rylee scowled, knowing that the argument was over before it was even started. She was quickly remembering her mother's tones as well as her verbal and facial expressions. Rylee had no desire to upset her mother – at least not intentionally. The last thing she wanted was her mother to decide that Rylee was too much trouble and then put her up for adoption or whatever. It was the ultimate concern for Rylee, and it guided her conscience for the most part. Nevertheless, Rylee was soon standing before her mother wearing her new school uniform, right down to the partly pleated wraparound grey skirt which ended at her knees. Underneath the skirt, as well as her knickers, she wore black tights (which she hated). For her top half, she wore a white blouse with a silver tie which bore the school crest and a contrasting silver stripe. Atop that, she wore a black blazer bearing the school crest on the left breast. Her shoes (another point of contention) were black leather and 'girly' . . . too girly, in Rylee's view as they were flat and not all that functional.

"You are a girl!" Rachel persisted. "Okay – I'll find you some more functional shoes, okay?"

"Thanks, Mum . . . er, can I go change, please?"

Rachel laughed.

"Go on."

Rachel watched as her daughter bolted for the stairs – it was good to see her in a skirt again; just like she was before.

Monday, May 23rd, 2016

Ilkley Grammar School

The weekend had passed all too fast for Rylee and she soon found herself back in the damn skirt and tights, albeit in more functional footwear.

Rylee stood out like a sore thumb she knew. Whilst the school uniform had been expensive, it had also been the cheapest available. It was also brand new and looked like it to any interested party. Rylee knew straight away that she would stand out, knowing that most of the other kids were much better off, financially. That was one thing that concerned Rylee greatly. Her mother was making great sacrifices for her little girl, and Rylee felt bad about it. She had noticed that her mother was struggling to pay the bills and she figured that having to feed and cloth a growing eleven-year-old was not exactly helping. Rylee had considered acquiring money in a more underhanded manner, but she also knew full well that her mother would never have accepted it.

"Well, well, well, Rylee Clarkson returns," a voice preened.

Rylee groaned, vaguely recognising the voice of one Tricia Hartley, who, Rylee kind of remembered was not her biggest fan.

"They let you out of whatever children's home they locked you up in?" Hartley continued. "I heard you'd been caught shoplifting . . . again. Watch your mobiles, guys; Clarkson might pinch 'em."

Rylee rolled her eyes as Tricia's 'posse' giggled either side of their master.

"Good to see that the script hasn't changed in over two years," Rylee said sardonically. "Hi, girls . . . still haven't discovered a will of your own? Still Tricia's tramps."

"Don't call us that!" Evie Drake exclaimed.

"You think you're so clever!" Violet Russell added.

"Rylee?" a voice said from behind the three bitches. "Is that really you?"

Rylee span around at the sound of another vaguely familiar voice.

"Geor . . . Georgia?"

"Yes," Georgia Watson replied, an enormous grin spreading across her bespectacled face. "Let's get you away from these harlots."

With that, Georgia led her former best friend away from the three girls.

"Did she just insult us?" Violet Russell asked.

"Dunno," Evie Drake replied. "I like the sound of being a harlot."

"Give me strength!" Tricia growled as she stalked off to class.

Rylee felt intense relief that she was not going to be alone.

Lunchtime

Her first four periods at a real school had been different to say the least.

No pistols. No assault rifles. No knives. No punching high. No cryptography. No learning to kill a person in a more creative way to the previous week. Just standard Maths – a double period which Rylee had sailed through – then a period of English, followed by a period of Science. Nothing had even remotely stressed Rylee and she had spent some of each lesson figuring out creative ways to kill Tricia – without leaving any trace of the body. Rylee was up to fifteen ways already.

"Where have you been, Ry?" Georgia asked, for the umpteenth time that morning.

"Around," Rylee replied, for the umpteenth time that morning.

"Okay, I'll stop asking."

"Thanks."

"How's your Mum?"

"Good."

"You used to be chatty." Georgia pointed out.

She used to be a normal girl, to boot, Rylee thought to herself, somewhat dryly.

"Maybe I'll tell you some day."

"Was it bad – just tell me that."

"Yes, it was bad," Rylee conceded.

"Okay, not one more word about it," Georgia grinned. "You been keeping up with Equestria – I know you used to love the ponies and the girls?"

"I watched Rainbow Rocks, the other night, but I need to catch up on season 4 of FIM before I move onto season 5. Only then can I get onto season 6."

"You better move, girl, season 7 is out, and you must see Friendship Games and Everfree – they're awesome. I have them both on Blu-ray, you want to come over on Friday?"

Rylee grinned. She still loved the Mane Five, but Urban Predator had changed her tastes, so she tended to prefer a good Arnie movie, or maybe a Rambo. However, getting back in with her former friends couldn't do any harm, could it?

"I'll have to ask my Mum, but it sounds good."

Three days later
Thursday, May 26th, 2016

Ilkley Grammar School

Rylee was getting annoyed.

She had promised herself not to go off on one, but the bitch was so fucking annoying!

"What are you drawing?" Tricia demanded first thing that morning, just as Rylee had sat down and pulled out her journal.

The annoying girl had seen the pencil sketches and she had seized the journal. The image was of a girl being cut apart with a knife.

"Is that me?" Tricia demanded.

It was, Rylee considered, and it was labelled as such.

"You want to kill me?" Tricia went on. "That's illegal!"

"It's only a drawing – that's not illegal," Rylee countered.

"It is, actually," Georgia commented, and Rylee rolled her eyes.

"Nobody was asking you!" Tricia exclaimed, looking down on Georgia like the girl was a piece of shit.

"Leave her. . ." Rylee began just as the teacher stepped into the classroom.

"Okay, class, settle down, please!"

Tricia scowled at Rylee as she sat down.

..._...

During the short break, that morning, Rylee found Tricia in the girl's toilet, brushing her hair in the mirror.

Rylee sidled up and she began to speak in an even, but conversational tone.

"There are about a thousand ways to make a human-being suffer pain while still keeping them alive. Of those, there about a hundred ways to hurt a human-being without leaving the slightest hint of trauma behind."

"You threatening me?" Tricia demanded in a slightly shaky voice.

"No," Rylee replied evenly, "just imparting some general knowledge."

"There's something wrong with you, Clarkson!" Tricia shouted as she bolted out of the toilets.

"Yeah, I'd agree," Rylee grinned.

"What did you say to her?" Georgia asked as Rylee left the toilets.

"Nothing."

"She looked really scared."

"Maybe she looked at what she just shit out and thought she was looking in a mirror," Rylee stated as she walked off down the corridor.

Georgia was left standing open-mouthed in the corridor as her friend walked away.

A few weeks later
Saturday, July 23rd, 2016

The Cow and Calf
Ilkley

It was supposed to have been a pleasant meal out – mother and daughter together, enjoying a summer's day.

Normally, there were no issues, and families were welcome, however, over the past few weeks, a group of youths had selected the pub as a place to hang out. Being obnoxious teenagers, they also chose to cause trouble whether they meant to or not. Rylee had no issues with cussing and bad language, and was fluent in both, however, she drew the line when normal children were around, unless, of course, she was really pissed. That lunchtime, Rylee and her mother were happily digging into their Ploughman's – Rylee had a real liking for the pork pies and the cheese – when a group of youths entered the bar, talking loudly amongst themselves. At first, Rylee simply ignored them, applying a thick covering of Branston pickle to the chunk of cheddar cheese balanced on the thick slab of rustic brown bread sitting on her plate. Then, a dad from two tables over found himself jostled as he tried to return to his table with three glasses of Coke. The dad refused to be drawn by the rowdy behaviour which just got him jeered at.

"Hey!" the barman called out. "Get out!"

"Fuck you!" the apparent leader responded, grinning at his mates.

Rachel Clarkson jumped up and she made for the bar, annoyed by the youth's behaviour. Rylee knew that her mum was brave and that nothing much phased her – except, of course, for the antics of her wayward daughter who had appeared out of the blue just two months, or so, earlier. Rylee figured that she got her strong personality and her desire to win from her mother who demonstrated the very same resolve to overcome anything which threatened to drag her down. Protecting people was a key part of her mother's job, and Rylee loved that about her mother, even if it did appear to leave her mother in unknown situations. Rachel squared off against the group of youths.

"This is a place for families, not for crude language and cruder attempts at bravado – now get out!" Rachel declared to rapturous applause from the other diners and occupants of the bar.

The leader, a six-foot youth, glared down at Rachel with derision obvious in his expression.

"Look, bitch! Keep your sodding nose outta other people's business!"

That was when the stupid fucker made the biggest mistake of his short life; he shoved Rachel Clarkson hard enough that the woman fell back against a table before landing on the floor in a heap.

..._...

Rylee was not going to stand for it; her mother had only been trying to help.

But then, as the youth who was obviously the leader took a step towards Rylee's mother, the young girl saw red and she turned to the sixteen-year-old, glaring up into his face.

"You get one warning – just one: leave and stay the hell away from this place," she growled.

The youth glared down at what he saw to be just an annoying, insignificant little girl – the second biggest mistake of his short life.

"Go play with your dolls, you little bitch! Take your mummy and you fuck off!"

Rylee bristled.

"Look, you manky great turd, you leave my mother alone."

Rylee grabbed her mother's hand, helping her up from the floor, and she made for the door.

"Run away, lass!" the youth laughed.

Rylee stopped dead.

"Mum – sit down."

Rachel did so, unsure of what was about to go down. As Rachel watched, the expression on her daughter's face darkened to the point that Rachel felt a chill run down her spine. Rylee turned and she kicked the door shut with her left foot, before turning to drop the catch, locking the door.

"What you doing?" a voice called out.

"Just making sure that you pussies don't escape," Rylee responded darkly.

"What?"

"Did you know," Rylee commented calmly as she faced the youth and his four mates, "that your mannerisms and general behavioural characteristics make you who you are?"

"You what?" the youth demanded as he grinned at his mates.

Rylee sighed.

"Let me dumb this down . . . way down . . . a smart man once told me that 'manners maketh man' – you know what that means?"

"Wot - you trying to be clever?"

"Trying, no; it just comes naturally. Obviously, you're just a fucked-up ape who was born totally braindead."

"You fucking little whelp; I'm gonna bray you!"

"Well?" Rylee asked, holding her hands out to her sides.

"Well, what?" the leader asked, very confused.

"Are we going to fight, you dumb ape?"

"Fight you? You're just a . . ."

"A little girl?" Rylee asked, sounding slightly offended. "Fucking twonk!"

Rylee brought her right arm around, catching an empty bottle of Guinness which stood on the bar, and she swept it through the air at speed. The bottle flew, base first, striking the leader dead centre in the forehead. The oaf fell backwards onto the floor with a loud crashing sound.

"Hell fire!" the barman exclaimed as he witnessed the beginning of the strangest bar brawl ever.

The downed youth's mates looked on in shock for just a moment before all four of them descended on Rylee. A short youth, obviously the muscles of the group pushed forwards, his expression furious as he brought back his right arm, the hand formed into a fist. As the arm came forward, Rylee bent over backwards, allowing the powerful fist to miss her entirely, but connect with another youth.

"Fuck!" the youth exclaimed as he fell to the ground, a hand on his injured jaw.

Rylee gave nobody a moment to grasp the situation as she went on the offensive, kicking hard into the stomach of the closest youth, doubling him over before bringing her right knee up into his groin. The youth went down, hands between his legs, grasping his unmentionables. Another punch was thrown at Rylee which she dodged, driving her own fist into the face of the surprised youth, busting his nose. The young Predator swept up a cudgel which one of the youths had dropped and she reigned down pain which the youths had never felt before. She thrust and kicked, striking with each and every calculated blow. She moved far too fast for the youths to catch and she dodged every attempt to grab her or strike her.

There was a small scream from the diners as a knife appeared, but Rylee was not phased one bit as she expertly disarmed the novice knife-carrier, striking him on the forehead with the pommel of the knife, putting the idiot out cold. The next youth found his face meeting the bar, hard enough to break his nose in an explosion of red gore. The leader of the youths regained his feet and went for Rylee who deftly sidestepped the attack, allowing the youth to smash into a table and knock himself senseless. After a brief look around, she looked up at the amazed barman.

"Sorry about the mess," Rylee offered before she turned to her shocked mother. "Come on, Mum – I fancy a walk, how about you?"

It was like nothing had happened. It was as if the five youths laid out on the pub floor were not even there.

"I got nowt else brewin'," Rachel commented.

Rylee ignored the applauding audience as she headed out the door.

..._...

As they strolled across Ilkley Moor in the blazing sunshine, Rachel reflected on what had just occurred.

Her little girl . . . she was what? She had taken down a group of youths each of whom had been almost twice her height and three or four times her weight. Rylee had made it look so easy, so natural. Then there had been the anger. Rachel had never known so much anger in any one person, let alone a young girl. But what was really scary was how Rylee could control that anger and how she could defuse herself over about ten minutes or so. However, in that bar, the anger had been switched on and then switched off with the same ease you might operate a light switch. One minute, they had been enjoying lunch with Rylee laughing, then she was hurting people. Just as quickly, Rylee had switched off the anger and they had left the bar. Rachel watched her daughter as she strolled a few yards away.

To anyone watching, Rylee looked just like any other eleven-year-old girl. She was smiling, enjoying the summer sunshine. Her light brown hair was hanging loosely and blowing in the warm breeze. Rachel was continually amazed by how much her daughter had grown in the years she had been away. Her long legs were showing below her shorts, with several bruises from her fight – mind you, Rylee always seemed to have bruises on her body. Even when she wasn't at school, where she had taken up Karate and Taekwondo, she was abusing a punch bang which she had asked for and which hung at the back of the garage on a steel hook. Rylee kicked the bag into submission, most nights – in fact, it was the second bag as Rylee had destroyed the first one within two weeks. There was a lot of pent up anger in the girl, but Rachel had not been able to get any answers out of her daughter. More than once, Rachel had awoken in the darkness to find a body squirming into bed beside her. It was nice, but Rachel then had to put up with her daughter's nightmares first-hand.

Various names were mentioned – Simon, Tanya, Lin, and others – although Rylee appeared to despise some girls called Walker and Abbott more than most.

A week or so later
Tuesday, August 9th, 2016

Valley Drive

However, there was one of her daughter's more dubious skills which Rachel was very thankful for as she found out one cold Wednesday morning.

"Damn it!"

"What's up, Mum?"

"I've lost the garage key and I need it to get the car out – help me find it."

Rylee grinned and she vanished from sight.

"Well, don't help me then!"

Rylee breezed back into the kitchen a few moments later, and she pulled open the 'junk' drawer which was full of broken tat and generally useless items. The youngster pulled out a few of those items before she began to work on them with a pair of pliers and a file, both of which she had retrieved from the toolbox kept in the cupboard under the stairs.

"What are you doing?" Rachel asked as she watched Rylee destroy what was left of a broken pair of sunglasses.

There was no response from the eleven-year-old. After half a minute of furious filing and bending with the pliers, Rylee bolted out of the kitchen and then the front door and by the time Rachel had caught up to her daughter outside beside the garage door, Rylee was just turning the lock and swinging the door upwards.

"Picked the lock," Rylee grinned as she held up her improvised tension wrench and pick. "Child's play."

"You're a life saver, honey!" Rachel said as she kissed her daughter on the forehead.

Rylee grinned happily, pleased to be able to help her Mum with her dubious skills.

Life moved on for Rylee.

She was in a routine which she craved. Rachel had quickly figured out that Rylee needed routine – anything outside a routine caused Rylee to get upset. Rachel had learnt, very quickly, that an upset Rylee was not a good person to be in the same room with. Even worse, should said daughter have a knife in her hand . . . well, the numerous indentations in doorframes and plasterboard demonstrated Rylee's frightening ability to send a blade unerringly across a room. Another stabilising force appeared to be Georgia Watson, Rylee's best friend from before she had been taken.

Georgia would often come to stay at weekends; however, she too had met an impenetrable wall of silence when it came to where Rylee had been for the previous two years. At least Rylee would come out of her shell and laugh, although Georgia was not overly keen on Rylee's choices of movies to watch. Rylee was perfectly happy to sit and watch a My Little Pony Equestria Girls movie, however, she did prefer something with a little more violence. The two girls did enjoy watching Star Wars: The Force Awakens together as well as Terminator Genisys which satisfied Rylee's lust for screen violence.

Time passed and before they knew it, they had slipped into the New Year.

Monday, February 6th, 2017

Tesco, Ilkley

"You know you're about to be robbed, don't you?"

"What? Oh, it's you, Rylee."

The store manager was steadily getting used to the youngster popping up, seemingly out of nowhere – the youngster usually popped into the store on the way to school, each morning, with her friend, Georgia.

"There's three men about to ambush the G4 armoured van out front. They've got two 4x4s ready to block the van and there's a cunt . . . sorry . . . a man loitering at customer services ready to follow the guard back out to his van. They all have shooters. Mind if I get a few things from Kitchenware and Household Goods?"

"Knock yourself out," Tamsin suggested as the young girl vanished like she was never there.

Tamsin considered that it was like having a damn ninja running about. What, Tamsin asked herself, did Rylee have up her sleeve? What could an eleven-year-old girl accomplish? After a minute, Tamsin caught sight of Rylee reappearing with an armful of goodies which she then proceeded to dump on the floor beside the manager. Tamsin shook her head as one of her in-house security appeared.

The man chuckled when he saw it was Rylee – the girl was generally allowed to do what she wanted in the store, mainly due to her uncanny knack for identifying people up to no good.

..._...

Rylee was in action mode.

The very moment she had clocked something about to go down, she had grabbed Georgia and shoved her eleven-year-old friend to the floor behind a refrigerator unit and ordered her to stay put – Georgia had complied, a little scared by her friend's rapid change in demeanour. Then, after checking in with the store manager, Tamsin, Rylee went to work. Her hands worked without conscious thought, concocting ad-hoc weaponry out of the mundane supplies commonly available in a Tesco Superstore. The youngster fervently hoped that the weapons would not be needed, but despite not being a Girl Scout, she was always prepared – for anything. Her training rapidly came to the fore and she watched the action unfolding.

The robber covering the kiosk was not suited for the task ahead and he blew it, reaching for his pistol even as the security guard was about to deliver the cash. The security guard was spooked, and he went for the personal alarm on his belt, but not before the robber shot the security guard in the left thigh. Screams echoed around the store along with the echo of the gunshot and people dove to the floor. Rylee had only intended on using minimal force, but the moment a bullet had been fired, the gloves were off, and a switch flicked in Rylee's brain.

The robbers had just unleashed a lethal weapon upon themselves.

..._...

With rapid decisive movements, Rylee, a blade held in her right hand and a coil of rope in her left, ran out from a nearby aisle and she sent the blade flying.

With devastating accuracy, the knife, rope trailing behind, flew into the gunman's neck, ripping open his carotid artery and dropping the man to the tiled floor where he lay, hands trying to staunch the steady flow of blood. Rylee yanked back on the rope, coiling it up. One of the robbers outside had heard the pistol shot and he had come running. Rylee turned at the sound of the running feet and she dove at the shocked robber, jumping onto his shoulder and stabbing the man in the neck with her blade as she grasped his gun hand which held an automatic pistol with her other hand. She rolled forward, pulling the man down with her, before she threw her knife at the next robber to come through the doors. The blade pierced the man's right wrist, as he brought up the pistol which he held in his right hand, just like his partner in crime. Rylee skidded along the floor, past the impaled man and with a few deft flicks of the rope, she managed to make the man shoot himself in the bottom of his jaw.

With three robbers down, Rylee swept up a discarded automatic pistol and she made for the door coming face-to-face with the final robber who had come in search of his compatriots. The man took one look at the carnage and he fired a bullet in Rylee's direction. Rylee dodged the very moment the pistol came up and she dived to the ground before coming up onto one knee and without a moment's conscious thought, she put two bullets into the chest of the robber. Her chest heaving, Rylee cleared the weapon, dumping the magazine and ejected round onto the floor followed by the pistol itself.

Rylee grinned as Georgia appeared from an aisle, her face an expression of shock.

"What are you?" she demanded of her friend as she ran her horrified eyes across the four bodies on the floor.

Rylee grimaced, knowing that she had no real way to explain any of what had just happened.