Eyes on a Hero (closed for wraith232)

[danilicious]

Stephanie Green glanced up at the clock and wondered whether it could possibly be right. She had been lost in the files Spiro left her, and despite her energy and intrigue, so was not closer to an answer than she had been twelve hours earlier. There were no leads, motives and barely a description in any of the reports or eye witness accounts, just a ghostly figure with blue eyes that seemed to glow, an obvious exaggeration.

To Stephanie, it felt like she had worked for Cooper Spiro, Private Detective, for most of her lifetime, but in actuality, it had only been about four years. Spiro had a reputation for drawing certain kinds of clients; drug dealers, dirty cops, political operatives that specialized in creative campaigning. Despite Spiro's fervent desire to work independently to maintain the anonymity of his clients, the 21 year old had succeeded in earning his trust, and with time a greater share of the work, particularly analyzing files. She had seen cases involving just about any indiscretion you could think of. Sometimes they brought heinous acts to the public eye, other times, hid them so deep in the shadows that they would never see the light of day. They were neither good, nor evil, but available to the highest bidder.

It was obvious that the police in the city were either inept or corrupt, and she wondered whether it would just be easier to revert back to a life of crime. As a teenager she had developed a skill at separating a man for his money. She was a pick pocket, con artist and thief, that was until Spiro caught up with her, and for whatever reason developed a soft spot for her.

Her eyes drooped and her mind seemed to be drifting. She closed the file and dropped on the stack of other files in frustration. "I can't believe it is already 4am. Maybe this will make more sense in the morning." She knew it wouldn't. She had been working on this nonstop for a week and everything seemed to lead to a dead end. She walked over to a couch Spiro kept in his office, and pulled her jacket over her. Her petite, slender body curled up in a ball, and long blonde hair falling in front of her eyes, blocking out some of the residual light. Outside, police sirens whined, rushing to yet another scene where they were too late. As she dozed to sleep she wondered if her mystery man man might be involved.

 

[wraith232]

The leap into a free fall was always a measure of faith, he had done it many times over but there was always a margin of error. The warm air of the city's night blew by his face as he plunged head first towards the asphalt, it carried the pungent odor car exhaust and fast food and a thousand other smells many too foreign to identify. But there was two smells that stood out to him and call him to action. Cordite and blood. Someone had been shot.

Barely twenty feet above the alleyway floor, he flipped feet down and projected a wave of energy to counter his fall. He was still learning the extent of his powers but his ability to project bio-force energy was finding many uses. From boosting his jumps, to blasting back armed foes, to acting as a counter force on a fall. It also offered a great intimidation to the weak willed thugs of the city. The ghostly blue flame that came with the power is what lead people to call him the 'Night Wraith'.

Couching were he landed silently, Wraith listened to the night air. Raised voices, a woman and at least two men. A fourth voice, low and seemingly out of breath, likely the gunshot victim. Moving in the shadows, black on black, Wraith approached the group at the far end of the alley. The woman held the gun, awkward and unbalanced, her movements screamed 'junkie' to Wraith while the two men standing behind her were clearly enforcers. Thick and muscled, Wraith figured them for washed out marines, boot-cut hair style, position of the feet, angle of the shoulders. Was it a drug deal gone bad or more likely a frame-job. The thugs force a strung out junkie to off a rival in exchange for a fix. They wash their hands of murder and walk away clean. Just not tonight.

Wraith did not announce his presence, he was not a cop, he was not arresting these people. He knew they did not respect the code of laws but they did fear the vengeance he brought. Wraith booted foot dropped on the the side of the first thug's knee before anyone even noticed he was there. With a sickening crack, the joint buckled and failed causing the normally intimidating man to scream out like a little girl. The other thug, taller with a messy goatee turned in surprise to see his partner collapse and what could only be described as a living shadow hovering over him. Even the girl turned, swinging the out stretched gun high and wide firing three shots harmless up into the air.

Having made his point with the crippled thug, Wraith back-fisted him across the jaw, likely fracturing it and sending a shower of spit, blood and teeth down the alley. The taller thug hesitated to his credit only a moment before charging at Wraith. So very typical of the brutish, muscle bound type to behave like a bull but Wraith was not going to give him what he wanted. Rather than meet the charge, Wraith weaved to the side and as the threat passed he delivered an open palm strike to the man's neck. Not enough to break the vertebrae, the blow did send a jolt through his body causing numbness in the limbs and making him fall the ground.

Not giving the man a chance to recover, Wraith pounced on him, grabbing a hand full over hair to pull him up. He was dazed and partly concussed but he still managed to meet Wraith's eyes, which burned with an iridescent blue.

"No fair, man," he slurred as his eyes gazed, "You are using your powers."

"I do not need powers to break filth like you," Wraith's voice, muffled by the cowl that covered the lower half of his face, still dripped with malice that made blood run cold.

Drawing back his fist, Wraith drove his knuckles into the man's neck with enough force to interrupt the blood flow to the brain, which nicely caused him to black out. Dropping the dead weight, Wraith turned to the woman that was huddled against the furthest wall. She was guilty of attempted murder at least, the shot man who lay bleeding out near her would live mostly due to the poor aim, but Wraith did not have to punish her. She was in a prison of her own making. Sirens in the distance announced that the police would be there soon, they would attend to the wounded and guilty. Wraith would be long gone by then, disappeared into the night like a vengeful spirit.