Foolish Hope

[Armphid]

There was a rebuke in her gentle words. Mild but there nonetheless, or so he thought. Daniel. He didn't want to hear that name. His name. But it was sweet on her lips. "I'll get in touch with him. Rest well."

He watched her go and sighed after the door to the second bedroom closed. Compiler had been, was, a good friend. But he didn't want friends. He didn't deserve them. He leaned on the countertop of the island, his arms spread wide. He hung his head and gritted his teeth. He'd seen, the whole rotten world and seen, what happened to his friends.

His head whipped up and he glared at the spare bedroom door. Kick it down. Throw her out. Tell her to stop being a hero. His fingers gripped the countertop hard, knuckles whitening. He shook his head slowly, pushing it away. No. No, she'd do it anyway. And die without his help.

Was that any different than her dying with it?

He pushed off the counter with a soft growl. She wouldn't die. Remember what he'd told her; what Gwen had told him all those years ago.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

Hours later, Aimee had left in her laundered and temporarily patched costume. He had showered and now sat in the library in a bathrobe that had hung unused for three years. He felt physically better but the penthouse...it was cold. Empty. Dark. He'd made it that way. It should be that way. Why didn't he like it now?

He shook his head and pulled up the comm system on computer. He activated it, "Compiler."

There were a few moments of silence and then the line picked up, "Compiler here. CC?"

He almost smiled, "Sorry to disappoint you."

"Danny! It's good to hear you. And you, not talking through that distortion gadget. How're you feeling?"

"Restless. But better than I was. I'll be back to 100% before nightfall. I don't remember a lot after I got dosed...I may never."

The hacker grunted and then added, "That sounds right for what Killian hit you with. You're going after him?"

"Tonight. Concerned Citizen used the information you provided. We're pretty sure we know where he is." He made a frustrated noise, "There's someone she's looking for; Killian appears to be targeting single mothers, taking them and the children if he can."

"Scumbag. He deserved whatever you'll do to him," Compiler said. "CC filled you in on what happened?"

"Yes." For a brief moment, not even half a second, he smiled. "She beat Thunderstorm."

"She kicked his ass. Nothing permanent, assuming he does his rehab, but he's sidelined for at least 4 months." He laughed, "Wish I could see the look on his face right now." His tone got serious, "You better step up her training; he won't mistake her for easy prey if they meet again."

"We've talked about it already," he assured the other man. "I...she said you were worried about me." He closed his eyes and leaned forward, bowing his head. "When you told me you were leaving...I was...I acted like an ass. I'm sorry." The words came haltingly. "You deserve to leave this behind and find happiness, if any of us do."

Compiler was quiet for a moment. "Thanks Danny. And I will. Once we kill Him. I've already told Blue I'm postponing my Atlantean immigration."

"Hn. How'd she take it?"

The technopath laughed again, "She said she's going to smack my ass so hard it sends me to Lemuria. She's sure you talked me into it so she's got a butt kick for you if she ever sees you again."

Not likely. "You two...?"

"Yeah." He could see the other man flushing in his mind's eye. "As much as we can be a thousand miles and fifty odd fathoms away. What with her not being able to come back to the surface because of-"

"Him. It all comes back to Him," he growled. After a moment, "Any progress on what I asked for?"

"Pretty sure I know where the Canadian government's data is. Breaking in could be tricky, even for me. I'm going to try tomorrow. In better news, I have the schmatics you wanted; Hurricane's."

"Good." He stood up. "I'm going to get ready for tonight. Thank you."

"Yeah, no problem. Call if you need me." When the call disconnected, Compiler leaned back in his wheelchair. "Almost sounding like a human being again, Danny. What's gotten into you?" As if he did know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~​

Nightwatch found her but it wasn't easy. She had gotten even better since they started the parkour training; moving fluidly and smoothly while using the best environmental cover available.

After descending from his approached the same way, from the opposite direction. He reached the house nearest to Killian's and stopped, peering around the corner. Cameras watching the entrance points and at the corner of each fence. Floodlights probably on motion sensor. Hn. Not bad. But not good enough. He tapped his earbud and hoped he wouldn't startle her. "Concerned Citizen."

 

[Ambrosia_64]

It did, but then again-she had always been a little jumpy, and especially out in a mask.

“Hello Nightwatch. I hope your headache is gone?” Aimee was always so sociable, genuinely...nice. “I’m next door, eastern house from the address.” CC added.

She was perched on one of the lower branches in a tree, surveying the darkened house behind her before her eyes returned to Killain’s expensive looking home, just high enough up to see over the six foot privacy fence. She could probably drop down into the grounds if she edged along the branch. Not something she relished, but she was getting better and better with shorter heights, the more she practiced at diminishing her phobia. Wasn't going to feel good on her leg-just crouching here hurt. She'd be glad when it healed up.

There were hedges alongside Killian's house-places to hide behind and test windows, maybe, if she could make it without being seen. She wasn’t very familiar with range and scope of security cameras, something she would have to be sure and research later. She wondered which side Nightwatch was on. “You think he's home?” Either way, couldn't risk tipping him off to them being there.

She waited for instructions before doing anything-frowning at the size of his place and grounds. So this was how he spent the money gained from causing so much suffering? At least, part of it. Awful.

 

[Armphid]

He was silent a moment. Her little social courtesies continuing to startle him. "Yes. It's better. ...Thank you?" Nightwatch shook his head. "I'm same but on the west. Someone's home. I saw a shape moving behind the curtains in the southwest room."

The experienced vigilante pulled one of his little throwing knives out. "First, we kill the motion sensors. Watch the motion of the cameras; they're positioned to overlap but there are gaps. We'll need to use those to get directly under them, it's the one place they can't see. We lock them in position and then we move in. Probably too much to hope for an open window but we can find one to break into."

He stepped around the corner, sighted and threw. The knife flew through the air and thunked into the motion sensor, being too small to set it off on its own. "Sensor and lights are down. I'm going for the southwest corner camera on it's next pass."

 

[Ambrosia_64]

She smiled a little at the unsure response she got, but then he got to business, the blonde listening carefully to what he told her, eyes lighting on the camera nearest to her in the southeast corner. That’d clear that entire side of the house for them to move unobserved. She watched the cameras move, but the gap seemed too small for her to risk it-she’d be dropping nearly eight feet and then would have to high tail it to the corner AND figure out how to lock the camera in place.

Maybe she could do that in time, maybe. Another option was to drop and get to the hedges during that brief moment when each camera was slightly pointed away from each other-but Nightwatch had told her to go for the camera, so she was going to go for the camera. Maybe just a little different than expected.

Another glance to the darkened house behind her, and then she carefully climbed down out of the tree. The fence was sturdy, had a supporting pole ever five or so planks. Tight, dark wood to keep the curious out.

And maybe the desperate in.

Concerned Citizen frowned, moving along the exterior towards that camera. The fence was a good deal taller than she was, but not impossible. Still, climbing over near the camera would almost certainly be seen before she made it. It’d be better to lock it in place before she even hopped the fence. Hrm.

She snapped open her belt and loosened it, holding it by the both ends in her left hand, the braided nylon strap material smooth under her fingers. Coming to a stop at the corner of the fence and waiting for the camera to be facing the opposite edge of the fence, she extended her arm and caught two planks of the fence on the first try.

Perfect!

Holding tight to that and sort of ‘walking’ up the side of the fence, she was able to pop up just barely over the fence and reach the camera, twist the little toggle that set it to sweep or stationary positions. There.

“Southeast camera is locked looking east.” She said with a cheerful bit of triumph, waiting for the confirmation of the southwest one before she climbed up and dropped over neatly, a wince and a shake of her head. She was only there a moment, a red and yellow ghost she moved out of the open so quickly. You weren’t supposed to have hedges under your windows, it was a good place for thieves to hide. And, apparently, vigilantes. Pressed along that side of the house, Concerned Citizen put her belt back on around her curved hips and tightened it. She was hoping for an unlocked window, but Nightwatch was probably right-might have to break in, and then he’d certainly know they were there. Maybe bust in wherever Killian was? She had no idea.

“The West house? I had to crawl in through the dog door.” Aimee told him quietly, half just to settle her own nerves, half because, now at least-that was a little amusing, if embarrassing.

 

[Armphid]

"Good." This talking felt uncomfortable. Because it was also familiar. He and Gwen, when patrolling together or alone, had coordinated the same way until they didn't need to anymore. There came a time where they knew what the other would do but they still talked, just of other things. It was like that with the team too.

Nightwatch reached up and hit the toggle on the southwest camera. He had waited to pick his moment and then done a run into a tumbling leap that brought him under the camera. "Southwest camera looking west." He reached up a second time to grab the inside of the fence and kicked up while heaving with his arms, launching himself up and over in a controlled flip. He landed in a deep crouch and dove for the nearest cover. He rolled across his shoulders and to his feet, again crouched low.

He started to move slowly and cautiously, eyes scanning for a good entry point. Her voice chimed in then, talking about how she'd gotten into the West house. His lips quirked but did not near an actual smile. "If only Killian liked dogs," he murmured back to her. "There are worse ways to get inside; I've swum up storm drains and sewers." As he spoke, he continued moving then froze. There was movement in the room the window to his right looked in on. Nightwatch pulled a camera on a thin, flexible rigid cable from one of his hidden compartments, "Movement here; checking it out."

The crime fighter bent the camera end to a 30 degree angle and then slipped it around to look in the window from the bottom right left corner. A familiar man stood in a large half bath. "I have Killian; using the john. He's moving stiffly, with a limp. Come around to the due west side if possible; I'll go in when he leaves and the way will be open."

The scientist turned super villain turned flesh peddler looked rough. Not as tough as he was going to. Nightwatch was going to castrate him and cut it off for good measure; take away his weapons. He wanted to just smash in now but they needed to know if there were any bodyguards in the house first. Otherwise, they'd be dealing with hostages. He watched the wicked bastard finish, wash his hands, and then limp away. Once the bathroom door closed, he pulled the camera back.

Concerned Citizen may well come upon him while he was breaking in. He produced a few different pieces from his compartments and with a few insertions, snaps, and clicks, he was slowly burning through the glass with a hand held laser. Nightwatch traced around to cut the top, then the sides. He angled the bottom cut so that the cut section would lean that way and fall outward. It came free suddenly and he dropped the laser, on a deadman's switch, and caught the falling pane. He hissed as the hot edges tried to burn and cut him through his gloves buy carefully set it down. All done quietly if not silently. Someone inside might smell the heated glass though...but still the most subtle way in.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Aimee was checking carefully in through windows as she edged along, glad to be small enough to easily slip behind the hedges and move beneath the ledges. Blech. Poor Nightwatch. “And I thought the gasoline had been bad.”

She had said that almost as a joke, but then her mind flashed on the two little boys in the tub, on Frank West producing a lighter just before he had backhanded her. West would have killed his own children. Abhorrent waste of space. Killian was no better. Worse even. Monsters she could have never imagined existing, before. Monsters hiding in the weeds and willows, deep in the dark.

Her eyes narrowed a fraction, another glance through a window. “Nothing in the southern rooms.” Nightwatch had found him, beckoned her to the west side of the house-mentioned a limp. “Not surprised. I wasn’t very kind to him.” Concerned Citizen said matter-of-factly. The words themselves were harmless enough alone- but her tone had that slight controlled edge to it. Not anger, exactly...but definitely not her usual demeanor.

CC ducked under another window and turned the corner to find Nightwatch some fifteen feet ahead. “Here.” She said barely above a whisper, not wanting to surprise him-then again, as quiet as she was, she still doubted she could. Even if he was just a man under there.

He'd be able to see Concerned Citizen's costume pieces were different. It looked a little less silly than that puffy vest, but the close fitting athletic jacket was just a jacket, no stab proof material underneath. So this had been her original costume design? Just as homemade, but she looked good in it. As the petite, curvy blonde did in most things.

He was cutting into the glass, a world away from anything she had ever really seen. She would have been more giddy about the spy tech if she wasn’t so tense. Tense about entering the house, tense with disgust for Killian, tense about finding Miss Johnson. Was she here? It had only been a few days, how quick did Killian move people? And what had the poor woman already been put through?

Her eyes flashed concern when he caught the hot edge and hissed-but he was able to set it down and it hadn’t cut through his gloves as far as she could tell. He was in and she followed suit. She was stealthy by nature, but Nightwatch was ridiculous. She had no idea how someone so big and heavy could move as agile and as silent as he did. They were inside now, no dog door required.

Okay. Was it just Killian here? No more Thunderstorms, hopefully? It had been stupid of the man to come back here-but thank God he had, so they could stop him.

 

[Armphid]

Nightwatch was aware of Concerned Citizen moving behind him as they crept in through the now cut open window. He had to minimize her activity; she was favoring the injured leg. Having trained with her, he could tell, though he doubted anyone else could. There was the sound of a television playing in the near distance to the north. Relaxing and watching television while he recovered? Did he really think they wouldn't come? Or he thought thus house wasn't connected directly enough that they'd find it.

There was a voice speaking; a man's low and deep, "I'll take a look around and circle back, but we're locked in tight, boss. Nothing on cameras." There was a pause, then a chuckle, "Yeah, I'll look in on the girls." Another pause and a laugh, "Nah, not on the clock, trust me. Maybe when Leroy gets here in the morning."

"One," he murmured. There was no one elsewhere to check on "the girls," so that meant just one bodyguard. All too easy.

Nightwatch gestured for the red and yellow clad heroine to get behind the bathroom door. He stepped up to the vanity, quickly unscrewing the light bulbs and setting them in the sink. The sound of the henchman moving came from the hallway, the sound of a door opening, a light switch clicking. Nightwatch then pulled out one of his throwing knives and stabbed into the ceiling light; breaking the glass and the bulb within. "Hell was that?" The brawny vigilante slid the shower door open and stepped into the tub. There was the sound of footsteps and then the door opened slowly. A dark hand reached in to switch on the lights a muttered "Shit" when they didn't activate. The snub nosed barrel of a bull pup submachine gun came in first, followed by a slowly moving man about Nightwatch's height.

They let him reach the middle of the bathroom, right in front of the vanity. His feet crunched on the glass and he looked down to see the light bulbs in the sink. "The hell?" It was as if they'd practiced it. Concerned Citizen came up from his left to grab his wrist in one hand, the other striking hard at the joint of the shoulder, Nightwatch did the same to his right, twisting his wrist to make him drop the firearm. They wrenched his arms behind his back, shoving his shoulders down to smack his head on the vanity, stunning him. They both pushed forward and stepped back, drawing his arms around him; a pair of plastic, one red and one black, slid around his wrists and locked in. They stepped back towards the wall the vanity tested against, shoving the thug backward towards the bathtub. His calves hit the tub surround and he fell backward into the tub. Nightwatch grabbed his legs and held them together, another red plastic tie tightened around his ankles.

It had taken all of six seconds.

Nightwatch felt a sense of nostalgia as he bent down to pick up the gun. That felt like a takedown he and Gwen would have done back then. The magazine went into the toilet bowl, as did the round in the chamber the the gun went out the window. "Killian next."

They moved into the hallway. The television still played. The pair of heroes stalked ahead with careful haste. On pain meds and watching tv, it was very possible the injured villain hadn't heard the noise from the bathroom but better not to assume.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Aimee's eyes widened a little and she looked very bothered, very disturbed by what they heard, lowering her head and making a small adjustment to her hat. The casual disregard and what she thought was maybe a mention of...awful-accompanied by laughter.

Monsters in the dark.

Concerned Citizen took a deep breath and gave a curt nod to Nightwatch, straightening her shoulders and recentering herself as she looked up at the door again. This was what they were here for. Getting the women out, stopping Killian, and then toppling his empire once and for all-and anyone complicit in it.

They took him down decisively and hard, CC tightening the red zip tie and stepping back to briefly blink at their handywork while Nightwatch disassmbled the weapon. "Wow." Aimee breathed to herself absently. That had been...that had been very cool. Good teamwork. Almost like she was a legitimate hero-a feeling she only really got working alongside the experienced vigilante.

She was quick to refocus, try to regain her professionalism-a little embarrassed by the utterance. The important thing was that the guard wouldn't be hurting anyone when his shift ended.

Yes, Killian next, and then they'd find whatever victims were in the house, get help on the way to start them on the path to recovery and, hopefully, mental healing. The guard had been big-she was glad she wasn't here alone.

They came to the widened doorway to what looked like a comfortable, if extravagant den, the television flickering light across the darkened room. Infomercials. Aimee had never once missed television, not in all the years she'd gone without it-ever since her father had it removed from the house when she was a teen, back when things started to get...bad.

Maybe he just hadn't wanted her to know about people like Killian. Maybe he just couldn't bear to watch coverage about the world and the Mask Killer anymore, was trying to hide that from her too. Probably both.

She slipped in on the left, and Nightwatch slipped in on the right, the oversized chair facing the television in front of them and the obvious target. Something didn't seem quite right about the remote though. It was on the back of chair and sideways. Almost as if absently set there while moving around it-

Movement to her left as the injured, wild eyed Killian stepped out from behind the bookshelf-the villain must have pressed and concealed himself against it as soon as he heard breaking glass. He had a pistol that he was bringing it up to bear and Aimee's heart just about stopped, a short surprised squeak.

But the rest of her didn't stop. Her right hand moved on its own volition as she stepped in- snapping up and shoving the weapon up and to the side as her fingers closed tightly around the barrel, the left coming up underneath to shove further upwards and grab tightly at the butt of it-just like she'd practiced a hundred times in class. It fired into the ceiling before she had twisted it fully back and out of his hands, stepping away with it in both of hers, sideways and close to her chest with a hand on the butt and another on the barrel, the muzzle pointed into the wall and her fingers clear of the trigger.

Her automatic deflection was safe on bystanders-but the heroine seemed just as shocked as Killian was, a skittered step backwards with widened eyes as the man also scrambled back, the villain looking positively terrified in the stark flashing lights of the television.

He'd almost shot her in the head. And holy shit, she had disarmed him without even thinking about it. Her heart was pounding so hard she felt dizzy-the entire sequence over in a blink, a ringing in her ears from the gunshot.

 

[Armphid]

A dark shape rushed past the momentarily dazed heroine with a roar of fury that sounded like it came from a wounded beast rather than from a man. Nightwatch was a thing of rage and retribution as he fell on the terrified Killian.

He'd nearly killed her. And he'd almost let it happen. Again! Damn him! Damn them both!

The vigilante grabbed both of his arms as he reached with quaking fingers for something on the entertainment center under the wall mounted television. "No more, you monster." He lifted the scientist bodily off his feet and threw him against the tv. The screen cracked, the wall mount bucking and twisting, digging back into the wall. "No more guns." He seized him again and threw him once more to impact the nearest wall, cracking the drywall and then tumbling onto a sofa. "No more gasses. No more hurting women."

He grabbed the man by the hair, dragging him to the center of the room. Nightwatch flipped him onto the coffee table, "We're taking you down and I'm taking your weapons." He flipped his right hand and a pair of throwing knives appeared in his fist as if from nowhere. "All of them. You'll never ravage another woman or girl."

His arm rose to start the downward slashing punch that would geld the immoral flesh merchant, "Don't struggle too much. I might hit an artery and wouldn't it be tragic if you bled out here?"

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Aimee used to be afraid of guns. Especially handguns. All they did was hurt people, made it easy to do undoable things. All she saw when she looked at a pistol were the brass accents to a coffin and the sad, murmuring faces of strangers. She’d even begged her father to get rid of his service weapon, after....well, after. He had locked it in his cruiser, she remembered, hadn’t brought it into the house at her insistence. She had eventually outgrown the fear, but never the distaste.

She understood why Charlotte carried, but she didn’t understand how she could. Just holding this one...and Killian had almost killed her with it! Just like tha-she jumped as a large dark blur rushed past, snapping her out of her tumbled, stunned thought process and bringing her sharply back to reality. Oh no.

“N-nightwatch-” She started, a wince and sharp intake of breath as Killian was thrown into the television, cracking the display, causing it to flicker but remain lit, the image distorted and then gone, just the sound of announcers explaining away questionably useful products. She fumbled to eject the magazine of the gun and accidentally dropped the clip-barely noticing as she left the weapon on a shelf in the book case, a step forward as Killian was then picked up and thrown into the wall, bouncing onto the sofa.

No, no, no, no-they couldn’t do this, not even to a monster like Killian. Had to do it right. No more awful on top of awful. It wasn’t about the man’s comfort-she couldn’t quite feel compassion for a man who sold children-it was the principle of it. Nightwatch was saying all good things, but the violence wasn’t...it wasn’t necessary. Overkill. Misplaced. Wrong. Not how things were done. Concerned Citizen certainly couldn’t be party to it, and Aimee herself couldn’t stomach it.

He had flipped the monster up on the table and said something about weapons, was now holding knives-did he mean to carve him up? Mark him somehow? Aimee found herself suddenly there on the opposite side of the coffee table, an arm out over Killian, the heroine putting herself in the way without touching the man, without being down on his level. She was short enough that it was enough just to stand there with the arm out, given Nightwatch’s much greater height and the low level of the coffee table.

“Nightwatch, please. He’s down, he’s done. He’s just...he’s just not worth it.” Those Caribbean blue eyes were widened and more than a little frightened, but anxiously resolute. Resolute, but her heart was beating so fast against the inner wall of her chest it almost hurt. She hadn’t meant to say that. Worth what? That wasn’t a conversation she wanted to try and have right now with the vigilante. Maybe not ever. “They’ll put him away for a long, long time, he's going to die in prison. Federal prison, not...not here, not out in a month. Please.”

There was no way for her to physically stop him-he was too big, too scary, and too much someone she cared about to try and fight. She just had to hope, hope he would listen.

God. Please let him listen, because cutting Killian up would be awful. That wasn’t the kind of hero Concerned Citizen was. That could never be the kind of hero Concerned Citizen was. Necessary force to end dangerous situations. No maiming, no punishment. For a purpose only.

Had to be good. Had to stand for right.

 

[Armphid]

He could almost smell the blood in the air. The monster he was had that dark glee in it's chest; that blood would be shed, another monster punished, prevented from doing any more harm. It would stain him, stain the city, but both were already soiled beyond recovering. This violence would mean something. This would save someone, somewhere from being a victim. And even if it didn't, he deserved it. Better this than the revolving door of the local lock ups.

And it made him feel good to hurt them. Hatefully, viciously good. All the good a monster like him had left to enjoy.

The blow was set to fall when she was suddenly there, her arm stretched over the prone doctor. He froze in place, a sharply inhaled breath and a growl deep in his stomach. His head snapped up.and he made the mistake of looking into her eyes.

Oh.

Oh, it hurt.

Her light pierced him through that gaze; her rightness burning the wrongness that made up his being. He didn't recoil or retreat, just held absolutely still. He heard her entreaty, her reasons. Not worth it? Were his victims not worth avenging? No, no, she didn't mean that. What did-

His eyes widened behind his mask. She meant Killian wasn't worth Nightwatch damaging himself. Concerned Citizen, Aimee, didn't want Daniel blackened any further. Or herself, probably.

Nightwatch trembled once; a tremor that ran up.him from his feet to the tips of his hair beneath the mask. "They always get out," he said in a weary voice, "they're always back and always worse." Then he stepped smoothly back and away from the fallen villain. The blades disappeared back into their hidden compartments.

"Thank Concerned Citizen, Killian. She's the only reason you're still technically a man." His voice was back to Nightwatch's normal snarl. He looked at the little.blonde who'd changed his world. "Go check the rest of the house. I'll watch him. And I won't harm him unless he makes me."

 

[Ambrosia_64]

He stood frozen, and for a very real, very anxious moment she wasn’t sure he was convinced. Then he spoke and his voice was full of weary, near hopelessness-and she felt her heart ache for him again, as it had last week-as it did nearly every time she thought of him, remembered things he had said and told her.

"I can't believe in the law. The people, the institution. I just don't have that left in me anymore."

“He won’t.” She heard herself say softly to his weary words, her tone becoming more firm as she ran a hand through her ponytail, looking down at the terrified, dazed Killian. He was afraid of her too, she realized with dismay. Concerned Citizen wasn’t...from her admittedly dorky name and less than impressive, brightly colored costume, she was not meant to strike fear into people. But here it was. Probably because she had put him down so hard, yesterday. Add Nightwatch’s company to that and...

No wonder he had tried to shoot her.

“He won’t be back. He’s done.” Like with Christine West, she was making promises she had no idea how to keep-but would. Solid, assured conviction.

What did they have on him already? What more could she rustle up to ensure, to prove to Nightwatch that the system could still...sometimes, work as intended? She gave a nod to Nightwatch as his voice returned to his scary snarl. “Thank you.” She said to him with relief, glancing to his mask, then back down to Killian’s face. Good God, she definitely would not have been able to stomach that.

“I suggest you think of a way to help us undo some of this mess, Mr. Killian. Think very, very hard.” He was a monster. Disgusting, awful monster. He had better help her keep her promise.

“I’ll be right back.” Another glance to Nightwatch, and then she turned and left the room. The wheezing man had nodded meekly, watched her go-and then his eyes snapped back to Nightwatch, extra afraid now.

She wasn’t going to bother asking where the imprisoned women were-couldn’t risk him lying.

The first floor had an office but no computer-odd. Not even a filing cabinet. A more formal living room, a dining room, overly large kitchen-and a door leading to a basement. She went down and paid careful attention in case of maybe...hidden doors? But found nothing. Run of the mill utility room with a small chest freezer, and a pool table in the main portion of the basement, a rec room.

Upstairs then. A large master bedroom first door on the left. It looked like a creepy Hugh Hefner/Kingly palace room, large four poster bed and dark, heavy wooden furniture. A closet and a master bath. She nearly kept going-but then her mind flashed on the West boys again...and that curtain had been drawn on the tub....

CC stepped back into the room and flipped the light on, frowning at the gold and red colored silk cloth that draped the tub. Now that the light was on, she coyld see a chain mounted to the ceiling. She grasped the curtain, drew it slowly aside and had to suppress a horrified cry to find a half dressed, bruised olive skinned woman hanging painfully from hand cuffed wrists. Dark eyes and hair-looking terrified but surprised to see the young heroine and not her tormentor standing there. She also looked exhausted, a gauntness to her face that spoke of poor treatment.

“Oh, ma’am, I’m so sorry-I’m here to help, let me help you.” Concerned Citizen started to say, stepping up onto the tub’s edge, a hand slipping into the jumbled pouch to find the polymer generic handcuff key she’d bought ages ago, in case of...well, just in case. The woman rasped something but CC couldn’t quite hear her, undoing one hand-which fell limply to her side-and then the other before hopping back to catch her, a muffled sound of exertion as the woman collapsed into her before she found her footing on shaky legs. Her arms were probably numb and without feeling, the wrists raw and bruised.

“...real? Are you...are you real?” She was speaking in a near whisper, dazed, possibly drugged or just without sleep for too long. Her pupils looked normal, she noticed.

“Yes. I’m real.” No, no, no-how could people do this?! How could- “It’s going to be okay. We’re getting you out of here.” She tugged a towel off the rack, wrapped it around the woman leaning into her, helping her out of the small space and into the bedroom.

“He’s got...he’s got others.” The woman managed.

“Thank you-we’ll get them out too. We’re getting everyone out. Are you...are you Marciella?”

The woman nodded blearily. “Your brother is looking for you, asked me to help.” A weak smile from the battered woman. “You’re going home.”
…………….

Three women total, two awake but weak, and one alive but deep in a drugged sleep. Aimee had bundled them all up in whatever blankets she could, assuring the police would be there soon, everything was going to be okay, Killian was done hurting people.

She untangled herself from relieved hugs and tired thank yous and closed the door, pausing a minute outside of it, ready to cry. No, no, no-had to keep it together. There were the brothels and Killian downstairs and-how could anyone be so awful? Treating people like...like cattle? She choked back a sob, pressing her hands into her tightly closed eyes.

Concerned Citizen. You’re...you’re Concerned Citizen. She doesn’t cry.

She forced an exhale. Deep breath. Second exhale, second deep breath. Her eyes opened, rattled, a little red-but clear thinking, tiredly determined. Okay. It was...it was okay.

She started down the stairs, a tense, defiant set to her delicate jaw. He was going away. Going away for the rest if his miserable life, and he was going to help her put him there, help find the kids and women he had shipped off to God knows where, to other monsters. He was going to make it easy for the FBI to track the victims down and throw him into a dark, deep pit somewhere where he couldn’t hurt anyone ever again.

Back into the den, the heroine zeroed in on Killian, those blue eyes blazing. “Well?” She asked the bound, now seated villian. “How are you going to help?” Her tone wasn’t angry, exactly. It was that matter of fact, tightly controlled, professional way Concerned Citizen seemed to speak when she was on the verge of strong emotion.

“Wha...what deal do I get? What’s in it for me?” Killian managed around his aching jaw and head, nervously trying to negotiate his way, somehow.

“In it for…?” Concerned Citizen looked as if she had been slapped for the briefest of moments-but then she closed her mouth and strode sharply forward before even Nightwatch could get a hold of the bastard, her left hand darting forward and coming down heavily on his shoulder. Her eyes were blazing. Her fingers curled in to grip the villain despite the touch making her skin crawl, her thumb hovering over but not pressing into the subclavian pressure point right behind and above his collarbone.

“In it for you?! I just found a woman naked and chained in your shower. There were two more in another room. You sell children and the wholesale rape of women for a living. You...you’re awful, and I offer you nothing, because you deserve nothing.” He clearly disgusted and disturbed her, the troubled heroine blown away by the sheer gall of him. “Please, I don’t want to be here anymore than you do. Help us make it right. You’re a businessman, businessmen have records of transactions. Where are yours?” She tried again, trying, trying to win with words-but the words more than a little strained and full of dread, disgust, maybe even anger. Still, still though-Aimee did not want to be forced to do what Concerned Citizen had already grimly resolved to do.

“I don’t keep any records, let go of me!” A lie. There was the barest moment of hesitation and then-

Concerned Citizen squeezed the shoulder, this time her thumb driving into the pressure point. It drew an instant and awful scream from Killian as pain erupted in that side of his chest and the accompanying arm, less than a second of agony before Concerned Citizen released him from the pain but didn’t let go of him, her thumb still hovering threateningly over the spot. “Your body has several vulnerable, intensely painful pressure points like this one Mr. Killian. And I know All. Of. Them.” Her voice was tight, matter of fact with a dangerous edge to it-but her body language was more upset than angry. Killian probably couldn’t tell that, though. This...this was hypocritical. She would apologize for that later.

“You are going to help me try and sort through your awful, evil mess now, or you are going to do so after several hours of this-” She didn’t do it again, but gave a soft shake to the shoulder. “-and be very, very sorry for wasting our time. Hours. I could do this for hours, and all it will leave behind are small bruises and a raw, sore throat from your screaming. Do you understand?” Killian nodded frantically. “Good. I am going to ask you politely one more time. Just once.”

She straightened and took a step back, shoving her hands into her pockets to hide the slight tremor to them. “Where, Mr. Killian, can I find your records? Enlighten us, please.” It was a dangerous, near threatening word, that social nicetie, all of a sudden.

“Th-there’s a laptop in the chest freezer downstairs-” He blurted, very anxious to help, all of a sudden. “The password is Flamingo23! Take it, it’s yours, take whatever you want, Jesus.”

“What time do your “establishments” stop taking customers?”
“We s-stop letting people in at 3.”

“Thank you.” She was more than a little shaken up but keeping her head on straight as best she could. He was a horrible man, but she was horrible for hurting him like that. She hadn’t known what else to do-every minute she spent here was a minute someone was continuing to be victimized. And if he wouldn’t answer her, then he would have had to answer Nightwatch-who would have hurt him worse, caused permanent damage probably before even bothering to demand answers. And even if she could somehow stomach that-it wasn’t right to have him do the dirty work just so she could pretend her hands were clean.

The FBI would need information to track down the victims Killian had traded away. They also needed evidence to even get involved. To give up on getting anything out of him based on ‘principle’ would have been equivalent to turning her back on a bunch of innocent people in need of help and rescue, on sentencing who knows how many women and children to continued abuse. And-he might indeed walk free, breaking her promise to Nightwatch that he wouldn’t.

But torture was torture. A second, five minutes, hours-it was all bad. She hadn’t been trying to get control of a threat, she had been coercing a bound, defenseless person into telling her what she needed to know, into giving her what she wanted. She had to fight as fairly as possible out here, even against a monster like Killian. Had she really done all she could before resorting to hurting him like that? Had she really done just what she had had to do?

God, she hoped so-she’d agonize over that later, when she wasn’t being Concerned Citizen. Either way, his scream would haunt her for a long, long time-but they’d have the laptop and the records it contained, and he could be stopped with certainty. It wouldn’t make her feel any better about having done it, but going home empty handed or letting Nightwatch cripple him would have felt a lot worse.

"We...we should lock him into a closet or something." Concerned Citizen said to Nightwatch. They had to leave him here, couldn't wait for police. She went downstairs to snag the laptop-right where he had said it would be-as Nightwatch took care of the villain.

Back together again, she shifted uncomfortably before speaking up. "I'm sorry. That was...that was a little hypocritical of me." Concerned Citizen said, looking down to the results-the laptop.

“...there are three brothels, there’s a woman on the force who...well, the police are going to raid one. I thought...you and I could take the other two at the same time, prevent them from moving any of the women if they manage to warn each other.”

 

[Armphid]

Nightwatch grabbed the whimpering villain and put him in a chair, not gently but without any real exertion of force. He would keep his word. And when they faced Killian again, a month or a year from now, he would try to comfort Concerned Citizen. She would learn, as he had. The law was as much their enemy as the criminals; there was so much money for the law makers, cops, and judges to make keeping people from jail than putting them in it.

For the next twenty minutes or do, the two men waited. Killian sat nervous and in pain, sweat on his brow. Nightwatch leaned against the wall nearby and, seemingly, stared at him the entire time. The lenses in his mask made it easy to accomplish that even while he continued to scan the area and listen intently. There wasn't much until she went upstairs. Then he could hear movement; people moving with a slow, heavy gait. Probably captives.

When Concerned Citizen came downstairs, he could tell something was different. Her body language was completely different; upset and agonized. Killian's attempt to bargain didn't surprise him and he began to say something to remind the man what they could do but she beat him to it.

And she hurt him.

Not like Nightwatch would and only for a second, but she did. He started up from the wall, holding out a hand but the let it drop. It was done. He...she should have let him do it. He was already stained and broken. She had to stay pure. But he said nothing. He let her go, his heart heavy.

Too slow again. He'd almost let her get shot and now this. He'd failed her.

Nightwatch slung Killian over his shoulder when she left, the criminal scientist crying. He went into a closet far from the den, thorough patted down and secured with the plastic ties. The vigilante didn't want him to overhear anything they discussed. As he prepared to close the door, he paused. "When you get out, don't come back here. If your shadow crosses the city lines, I will know and I will come for you. And you know she won't stop me next time." Then he closed the door and wedged a chair under the knob.

She would, of course. But Killian didn't need to know that.

When reunited, her apology surprised him. He understood it though. "No, it wasn't. You did what you had to to save lives; I just wanted to ruin his. Intent matters. But let me do it next time. I'm already...you shouldn't have to. It hurt you to do it."

He shook his head, "We'll talk about it another time." She was already on to business. Nightwatch grimaced. "The police can't be trusted." How did she know someone inside? Or was this through another contact? There was no way she was a cop herself. "And with that leg, I don't like you going in alone...but in both cases, our options are limited." The tall man crossed his arms over his chest, "You're right, though, as soon as one is hit, the others will know. Hn. Damn it! All right. I will take the largest of them and you the smallest."

Nightwatch tapped his earbud, "Compiler." After a moment, the line picked up, "Compiler, we've got something for you that needs analysis. We've also got three different targets to raid simultaneously."

"Busy night." He could hear keys tapping; "Get me access to the data and I'll dig into it. You're raiding three places?"

"Concerned Citizen will hit one, I will hit one...and the police will raid one." His tone conveyed a deep skepticism but also acceptance.

"Okay. Though...CC's still banged up, isn't she?"

"Yes."

Compiler frowned, "And she shouldn't be doing this?"

"Yes."

"And you want me to see if I can get someone else down there without telling her about it?"

"Yes." He hadn't opened a three way line for a reason. Nightwatch knew it was better she had help but her confidence needed to be considered as well.

"Consider it done. I'll check in, Compiler out."

The crime fighter nodded. Then he looked at Concerned Citizen, "When are the cops going to move? We should be as coordinated as possible."

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Aimee was quiet a moment, her eyes flickering over the portion of his face she could see, his grimace. She knew the police weren’t what they used to be, should be. “...there are good people who are just...worn down by things. I’m out here trying to...to root them out, almost as if...they’re a bunch of sleeper agents?” Talking about this was making her feel a little better about Killian’s awful, a welcome distraction from her own-despite Nightwatch’s words on the matter. Letting her off the hook. But Aimee couldn’t escape herself.

“And some of those people are on the police force. Lieutenant Rivera is one of those. She’s...she’s one of the good guys, too. I think time wore her steadily down, but-but she likes Safe Places, and seems to be in support of what I’m trying to do.” Aimee had talked to her a few times, the police officer part of her budding network.

She had opened the laptop and set it down, typing in the password Killian had given. One of her hands strayed towards the hurt leg, then lifted to touch at the CC patch on her jacket. She didn’t like the idea either, but they couldn’t risk losing victims. “I’ll be as careful and smart about it as I can.” She said with a determined nod. “It’s not like these are innocent men in there-they’re actively holding women captive. I’ll do...I’ll do what I have to.” Hopefully they were just thugs-she couldn’t imagine top notch security needed to watch a bunch of drugged women-just big enough men to keep a hold of the place.

She frowned as she scrolled around on the laptop, looking for accounting software, or maybe an excel document in the laptop-but a lot of it was passworded. Oddly, she could see the thumbnail of one such document, a small screenshot of the contents. Squinting, she could make out a few names and addresses.

“He’s got record of more than transactions. He’s got addresses. It’s passworded but you can see part of it in the thumbnail.” She said with some surprise after Nightwatch had started the call. “And two that I can see are across state lines.” The FBI had jurisdiction, then. Thank God. “The feds won’t just be finding these kids-they’ll be blowing several peodophile rings out of the water.” Her heart picked up its pace. Killian had been laughably stupid to keep such evidence against himself and these people-but it was wonderful he had. Good. She...she needed whatever good she could find, right now.

Aimee stepped away from the laptop. Compiler could break into the documents, she was sure-and then get the information where it needed to go. She’d write a disposition about it tonight also-tack that on there for whatever it would be worth.

“I have a uh, a friend who’s going to kickstart the police raid with a staged 911 call. The lieutenant is ready to go with her own plan of attack on the address at Timber Ridge Road. It’s on our mark-so however long it will take us to get into position, fifteen to twenty minutes lead time for the 911 call. ” She checked her phone for the time. “It would be best to wait until after closing but…” She looked troubled, worried. “I don’t want to wait any longer than we have to, given what’s going on there. It’ll let us catch whoever is patronizing the place too, at the moment.”

Absently went to rub her forehead, then winced-still sore. A brief bit of silence, thinking hard and watching the floor before her eyes lifted to the opaque eyes of his mask. “...thank you for being here, for helping these women.” She swallowed. “I didn’t...I didn’t know people like Killian existed. Or Frank West.” She didn’t regret the mask, but...but it was hard. It was scarier than she had realized, out here. Which wasn’t any good, because she had already found it pretty scary in the first place.

And Nightwatch had been fighting all of it alone for years. He was beaten down too, just in a different way or maybe...not so different, given how tired he had sounded, weary. Aimee wasn’t sure she was much help really, but...but she was here, she was trying. Company, if nothing else. She wanted to hug him again. She should make those pecan clusters. Or fruit tarts, an excuse to send him home with a bunch of chopped "left over" fruit for his shakes.

She wished she knew better what to do for him. She would find a way to help though, she was sure of it.

Concerned Citizen shook the thoughts for now. She wasn’t sure how her raid was going to go. She had only practiced fighting two assailants, and only a few times. She’d think of something. She had to. As usual-she was throwing herself into things and feeling horribly unprepared while doing so. Nothing for it. She might have to fight hard, but there wasn't much choice in the matter.

“You be careful, okay? Please." She adjusted her hat, the request sincere, a little anxious. "I’ll get the police and ambulances on the way here. We can...we can talk on the comm before everything starts. Even if just to...just to confirm we’re both in place. Then I can let my contact know, and they’ll place the 911 call.” A nod.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

EARLIER THIS MORNING
//////////////////////////////////////////

Marie Rivera was a cop’s cop. She descended from a long line of proud policemen and had known what she’d grow up and do since she was a toddler. She had never been more proud to graduate the academy, don the uniform and badge those first few years. To serve and protect…but times had changed. She had fought hard against the chains of corruption as they slowly crept through the department over the years-and she had eventually been worn down by her frustration, her outrage, her powerlessness against the churning machine that used to be the police. Her marriage ended in shambles, her parenting turned to near shit under the stress and struggle.

Now in her early forties, she was long past raging against the system, forced to plod along and try to do her job as best she could within the defined lines of her asshole boss. She knew better to pull at her leash, these days. There was no reward in fighting the good fight anymore. At least she wasn’t taking bribes and kick backs...and had a team of loyal cops under her who had signed up to be cops

“My hands are tied in red tape and protocol, Doc.” A weary sigh as she stared at the chaotic mess that was her desk, the avalanche of cases she might never be allowed to investigate properly, others she had been specifically told to drop. She felt beaten down by the years. “This...this isn’t how I want things, but it’s how they are. I’m doing all I can, but I have to keep my head down or I’m bound to lose my pension and my job.” And she was too old to start over somewhere else or do anything else. Besides, her daughter and grandson were here.

“Are you really doing all you can, Rivera?” The doctor’s voice was a mixture of critical and disappointed, and Marie bristled.

“Yes. You don’t know how closely I’m being watched-I start challenging things again, I’m done. And then some asshole will take my place, and you won’t even have the small amount of support I’ve been able to give you or that fool girl in the mask. This is too big for me to get away with. I have to sit it out.” She grit her teeth, feeling a measure of self disgust. “I already fought this battle, and I lost.” She fell silent, and so did the doctor for several beats, and then she spoke again, without judgement or condescension, this time.

“And how’s your conscience, Marie?”

Marie blinked. Dirty. It was dirty and depressed and wracked with guilt. She hated having lost. She hated coming to work and trying to get what little justice she could for victims and their families, struggling to bring the bad guys in and keep them in, the anger and then the eventual resignation of watching repeat offenders walk out again. What had happened to her? When had she given up?

“...he’s really dealing in kids? This Killian asshole?”

“Entire families disappearing. Single mothers and their children.”

Marie thought of her daughter and grandson, her eyes narrowing. Old, familiar, righteous anger.

Marie swiveled in her chair, turning her back to her desk. Leaning forward to hold her head in her left hand, the right one gripping the phone tightly. She cast a paranoid glance to the desk phone they had bugged ages ago. The office itself was safe, however. There was no one to hear her, but she lowered her tone into the cell phone anyway. “Alright. Alright, fuck, this is what we do.” She said, half disbelieving as she uttered the words. Her heavy heart picked up its pace. “Later tonight, you call 911. You call 911, and you tell them...you tell them you saw a woman lean out a window, screaming for help. Don’t tell them who you are. But you saw a man with a gun yank the woman back inside. Maybe you heard him threaten to kill her. Make it sound dangerous. I’ll make sure one of my mine is in the area. He’ll respond to the dispatcher and…”

Was she really doing this? If she was found out… Her heart pounded. “And I’ll have him radio shots fired. That’s when we’ll move in. We’ll raid the place. It’ll look incidental-hopefully-but it’ll expose it for what it is all the same.” She almost felt excited, a small flash of an old, once familiar fire, of grit. “I’ll bring the place down around their fucking ears.”

“And I’ll have a bus there for the women shortly after-they’ll need medical care and shelter, and I’m not leaving that up to the police.”

“For the best. Jesus-I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“You’ll sleep better, Lieutenant.”

“God, I hope so.”

 

[Armphid]

"Hn." He didn't correct her about the cops. There was no need. Anyone they picked up tonight would be out tomorrow, especially the customers. The women would be kept though; the cops would want to book all of the "dirty whores" to show they were cleaning up the streets. And rape and molest them along the way. How he hated them. Rivera...he didn't know that name, which meant she wasn't dirty, she just looked the other way.

"Do what you have to in there. Remember what happens to them if you fail. You're protecting those women and kids...like you protected me." Nightwatch felt awkward then; proud but...not embarrassed but something similar. Bashful? Ugh. Such weakness was in him!

He turned, "I'm moving into position. ...yes. We can stay in comm contact." She was do nervous, and for good reason. She could do this on her own. Nightwatch walked out of Killian's back door and left it hanging open. Compiler would have help for her. He'd better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

"Really? He asked for my help?"

Compiler shrugged behind his keyboard. "Sure did. He knows you're the only one who can get there and that he can count on you." Nightwatch wasn't going to like this.

"Huh. Big bad Nightwatch wants my help. What for?"

"So there's this girl-"

There was the sound of wind on the line, "Tell me on the way, I'm en route now! How cute is she?"

~~~~~~~~~~~​

Nightwatch was on the roof of the building he was responsible for. It used to be a three story furniture store. He could hear music playing within and underneath it, shouts and moans. There were three men on the front door; two at the loading dock. Inside, probably half again that many at least.

This would be a good fight in numbers if for nothing else.

"Concerned Citizen." After a moment, he spoke, "I'm in position. Ready to go on your mark." He fidgeted where he was hidden. He...should say something? "How...are you?"

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Concerned Citizen frowned at the nondescript building. It didn’t look evil. Then again, neither did Killian, at a glance. She headed back the way she had come, towards the alley she’d parked her car-but cut through before getting that far, moving around to the back of the buildings, the dirty alleyway.

No one was sleeping back here. Which was good, because she didn’t have any cash on her. She should fix that. It wouldn’t do for Concerned Citizen to have to tell someone she didn’t have change. Pressed to the neighboring building, she peeked around the corner-empty alleyway. A man was smoking outside, texting on his phone.

She slipped past the opening to the opposite side and considered her options. She didn’t want people in the rooms with the women when she started up trouble. Cutting the power probably wouldn’t help given...Concerned Citizen didn’t finish the thought. Aimee was having enough trouble keeping it together as it was. Still, better than she’d be doing without the mask and her pretending.

"Remember what happens to them if you fail."

Concerned Citizen felt her shoulders and spine stiffen, muscles tense, coiled. She wouldn’t. If nothing else, she would cause enough trouble to keep the monsters there and not moving victims out and away until either Nightwatch or the police could show up. She’d seen a cargo van down the alley with the smoker. Best to disable it. The thug could also provide information about the number of men inside, who was armed and what they looked like-good things to know.

And, she could borrow that lighter…

The nervous but determined heroine moved further down the back alleyway, retrieving her phone and swiping the passcode into it. Nightwatch spoke, and she gave a nod he couldn’t see. “Okay, thank you.” She murmured quietly, already typing the simple, short text to her sister.

And then he continued, and it was HER turn to be flatfooted surprised, caught off guard. “I-me?” The surprise was evident in her voice. “I-I’m okay. Just... trying not to think on stuff. I m-mean, I am thinking on, on my plan, what I’m going to do- but not...not other things.” She felt her face getting hot. Her phone lit up, a responding text from Charlotte.

Call went through. Listening to the scanner now. Nightwatch with you?

She hadn’t revealed that part of the plan to her older sister, and felt guilty ignoring the question. She may not have lied, but withholding the truth and letting people assume was just as deceitful, dishonest. “Just saving it for home.” She murmured almost to herself about that ‘thinking’, sounding vaguely miserable.

“...I’m sorry I didn’t get to make you anything today.” She said softly, a better train of thought, baked goods. "You never did say if you liked nuts or not. Pecans?" A little more hopeful sounding, more like herself-as Concerned Citizen studied an exterior water pump. A bit chaotic, but it'd throw them off. Separate them too, maybe, as they tried to figure out if there was a fire or how to shut the sprinklers off.

Response happening now. Let him do the heavy lifting. Buses incoming in twenty minutes.

"The raid is starting-" She said, , moving back down the alleyway, intent on her plan. "A bus will show up for the victims-unrelated to police response. They'll take them for medical care. Give them a wave or something, when it's clear?" They were really doing this. Everything coming together as planned. Toppling Killian's evil, unraveling it.

All she had to do was not screw up her portion of it, here. "Please be careful Nightwatch. G-good luck."

 

[Armphid]

Her surprise at his asking was understandable. He'd been a little surprised too. Her feelings...he remembered first looking into evil years ago. It had made him heartsick and heart broken. Gwen had talked to him, helped him through it. And how had he repaid her?

Not now.

"It's not easy. The first time you really see evil. You're to put it aside now but don't let it stew. Find someone to talk to about it. It helps. I...I'll try but...I'm not good at that." At so much. Useless wretch. A blunt instrument of vengeance and nothing more. "Compiler might be a good choice; he's been there too."

Her apology and the following question were another surprise, though one he realized he should have seen coming. "You saved my life and my reputation. I think that counts for a few trays of brownies." She needed to be easier on herself. In some ways. "I...I don't remember if I like nuts or not," he said softly. "I...hm. Pecans are fine?" He'd tried to forget as much of that kind of thing as he could. It was unnecessary. Only focus on maximum efficiency. "Make whatever you like; I don't have any allergies or...preferences."

It was a relief when she gave the go order. "Understood. Take it room to room as much as possible. You can do this. Check in after or if you need help." Compiler had better come through. "Good luck," he echoed her sign off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

The two men at the back door were easy. He had scaled down to the second floor and dropped on them, a foot coming down hard between their shoulder blades. They went die with grunts and cracking as bones in their backs crumpled. The vigilante had their hands and feet tied, mouth covered, in a practiced flash. He dragged them out of sight of the door, under the nearest windows, taking the time to thoroughly disarm each as was his practice. No alert so far.

He slipped in the back door. There wouldn't be any cameras or security beyond locks on doors and armed men; the customers didn't want any photage of them, after all. If they knew of the in-depth records Killian kept, they'd be furious. Music played loudly through the brothel; there were muffled moans, shouts, laughter. Plenty of noise to mask his work, at least at first.

Nightwatch crept to a corner and peered around. An armed man had his back to the vigilante, he was moaning softly, one hand in the tangled hair of a slender brunette who was on her knees in front of him. "That's it, bitch. Love the perks of this job!" His eyes widened as arms came around him, a hand clapping over his mouth and an arm closing around his throat to squeeze. The guard kicked his feet, slapping at Nightwatch with increasingly weak hands as the brawny crime fighter ruthlessly choked him out. The girl who'd been sucking the guard's cock just leaned back looking up with drug glazed eyes and then a little smile. Once he was sure the man was out but before the four minute mark where brain damage began, Nightwatch released his choke hold. A mouth patch and two ties trussed him up before he was hauled into the back hallway and out of immediate sight.

The girl watched the whole time, giggling a few times. She would have been pretty if she didn't have the starved frame of malnutrition, the bags under her overly made up eyes, and that dull, empty stare. She wore a dirty, flimsy nightgown that ended at mid-thigh and her feet were bare. Nightwatch approached carefully, "Miss, are you all right?"

"Hm? Well, I'm pretty fucked up so it's hard to tell." She slowly stood up, "You're him, aren't you? Nightwatch."

"Yes."

"Oh. Good. The older girls, the ones who were street walkers before, they say you don't hurt girls like us." She tilted her head, "Is that true?"

"Yes." It was a well known secret in the city; Nightwatch never went after or hurt prostitutes, even if they attacked him. They were victims in his eyes, even though they were criminals to society. "I won't hurt any of the women here. Joyboys either."

"That's nice of you. ...Want me to suck your cock? It's all I'm good for, they say." His skin crawled at something like that said in the same lilting tone she'd used this whole time.

"No. You're good for more than that." He shook his head; this was worse than even he'd thought.

"Oh. You want to fu-?

"No!" Nightwatch shook his head again, "Nothing like that...but I can use your help. Do you know which rooms are in use? How many guards there are?"

"Mmm. No. But I know who does." She smiled, her eyes still dull and lifeless, "I can take you to him?"

"Yes. ...Thank you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

"Shit! What the hell is going on?" In what had once been the store manager's office, a corpulent, greasy man was looking at an IM from one of the other brothels. Cops were raiding? They were all paid up. Hell, there cops here with bitches right now!

The door to the office opened but he didn't look up, "I don't have time for your shit, whatever it is." Were the cops coming here? He typed a group text for the guys on the door to ask if any strange cars or vans were around. The four stayed open and he growled, lifting his head, "Did you not fucking hear me?" He blinked at the vacant eyes brunette, "You...what do you want, bitch? You're on guard duty, go fuck the guards."

"But he wanted to see you." The brunette looked behind her, "Oh? Where'd he go?"

The manager rolled his eyes, "Killian's got to change up the mix. Cunts got no brains left and seeing shit."

The brunette smiled then, looking back into the room, "There he is."

Nightwatch stood beside the manager behind his desk. The fat man had time to look, pale, and reach for a panic button before he was tackled out of his chair with a snarl from the vigilante. The brunette walked into the office, demurely sitting down on a chair against the wall as Nightwatch's fists rose and fell behind the desk. Again, again, again, again, again, meaty thumps that grew progressively wetter until he stood up. "Scum," he growled. He was out. Nightwatch had gotten carried away; he'd destroyed the manager's face, broken countless teeth, broken his jaw, easily a concussion...well. He deserved it.

Concerned Citizen wouldn't like it though. That thought made him feel dirty.

He turned to the laptop. Contact with the other brothels, records of all customers and "assets", and IMs linked to all the guards phones. Magnificent.

~~~~~~~~~​

About six minutes later, the guards and the hastily re-dressed customers were all in the lobby. They looked about expectantly, the customers looking scared or angry. "I'll fucking have your asses kicked for this," an older man with a classic cop mustache bellowed, "fucking pulling me off the bitch before I was done! I'm-"

"You're done." Nightwatch leaped from the railing of the second floor loft space that overlooked the lobby as he spoke, "Every one of you!" He tucked into a tight ball as he arced through the air at the cluster of men. He uncoiled with fury; both fists slammed into the face of the angry customer, each leg kicking out in a perfect split to strike two more in the head. The startlingly agile hero's momentum carried him forward and he tucked again into a roll to hit the ground. He pushed up onto his arms, legs whipping up and out in a helicopter break dance move turned into a whirlwind kick. Men tumbled back and to the floor as he flipped up to his feet.

Up above, the skinny brunette had come to the railing was leaned on it. A few other women who'd been left unattended in the aftermath of the group text for the guards to get all customers and gather in the lobby approached and gasped at the carnage below. The brunette smiled at them, "Neat, huh?"

Nightwatch came in low, his left fist smashing into the genitals of a thug who had a throwing knife protruding through the hand that had reached for his gun. The crook doubled over and the brutal hero slammed a knee into his head to drop him like a rock. Another came in with a wild swing and the vigilante pivoted on the back of his heel while twisting his arm underneath, throwing him into another two with a classic hip throw. He heard...cheering? From somewhere above him but paid it no mind. Not during the fight. He leaped on the three men that had just fallen to deliver vicious punches that bounced their heads hard off of the linoleum faux tile. Opposite him a cloud of smoke billowed and several men were coughing. Their coughs turned to shouts of pain and swearing. Mixing pepper spray into his smoke bombs had always been fun.

A rush of feet announced the approaching presence. He ducked and shot a foot straight back, striking the charging client in the shin and making him cry out as he toppled forward. Nightwatch rose with a stiff arm that snapped the man's head back as he fell groaning on the ground. Crippled that one, possibly. What a shame. His blood was singing in his veins and he felt furious and...at peace. This violence, this brutal combat, was the only place he truly belonged anymore. Where he was truly himself.

He broke into a run, pulling a small respirator from one of his hidden compartments and putting it on, then barreling into the smoke cloud. The sounds of pain within became sharper, more panicked. A man fell out of the cloud, trying to scramble away on all fours only to be jerked back into the cloud. There was a shriek and then silence.

Nightwatch emerged from the smoke cloud as it finally began to dissipate. Behind him seven men lay, battered and broken. He swept his gaze over the lobby; over twenty men groaned or lay silently on the floor. He took in a deep breath and then bent to start securing them.

Cheers and a few whistles drew his gaze upward. A small crowd of unwilling whores was gathered, having watched the fight. The brunette leaned over the railing, "Heeey, Nightwatch! Are you sure you don't want to fu-"

"Go and get everyone else," he interrupted. "Every woman, man, or child here leaves tonight."

"I'm not hearing a no."

"No!"

"Pfffft. Okay."

~~~~~~~​

The bus driver waited nervously, her hands sweaty on the wheel. How had she let Charlotte talk her into this? This was all so messed up! So creepy! There was a thud from the roof of the bus and she yelped, jumping in her seat. Then her eyes widened as a tall, broad bodied figure fell down in front of the door for the bus. Her hands trembled as Nightwatch looked up at her. He turned and pointed towards the brothel, "They're ready for pick up."

"Ahh! I mean, o-okay. Thanks?"

The vigilante just turned and walked back to the building. He'd help her load the victims onboard and then check in. He looked up at the smog shrouded sky and hoped with the little light left in his heart that she was all right.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Concerned Citizen inhaled sharply, the draw of breath tinged with a feminine noise of pain. Mistake. The man with the gold earring snarled and drove the flat of his hand into her thigh a second, more forceful time-his other hand shoving hard against her shoulder.

The force might have knocked her down, but instead she found her back colliding with one of the men who had managed to get around her. There was a surprised squeak, the man’s arms closing around her shoulders and just beneath her chest, pinning her upper arms to her sides. He lifted her bodily off the floor-just in time for the original assailant to drive his fist into her stomach, the air leaving her lungs in an ugly wheeze, yellow shoes dangling limply as her head dropped, struggling to draw in air.

Oh, she was having a rough week.

The petite vigilante had been doing pretty good up until now-information out of the smoker, left him bound in the back of the van, his keys in the trash. Sprinklers were set off throughout the two floored building by holding a lighter under one in the basement-accessed through a small window anyone even a mite bigger than her wouldn’t have made it through. Took out the two men who came to investigate, then a third on the stairs-careful to drop him there rather than have him fall and hurt himself worse.

And then she’d gotten into trouble, bit off more than she could chew when she couldn’t think of a way to separate anymore of them-but hadn’t been able to bear sitting back and doing nothing, particularly as the sprinklers stopped, the confused gathering of men in the lobby on the first floor starting to break off, no doubt intending to go back to hurting people. She’d called the cops for insurance-who knew when they would get here-and climbed the rest of the stairs for a fight.

Near the front desk was a group of customers, all sopping wet and a mixture of angry and confused. The young, tired looking scantily clad woman at the front desk was refusing to issue a refund to a pushy middle aged man while the others stood in a half circle, spectating and talking among themselves now that the action was seemingly over, still adjusting clothes. This was the smallest of the brothels, a more relaxed atmosphere rather than a club. “That’s the masked girl on tv. Comrade something or other-.” “I don’t think that was it.” “Well, something with a C anyway. She’s smaller than she looked on the news.”

A pair of employed thugs nearest the door were tense and agitated, dialing phones to call “the boss” and someone named Leonard at Timberwoods.

Closer to her and standing near a cluster of low budget hotel couches were the men that had ganged up on her almost as soon as she emerged from the basement and attacked one of them. Concerned Citizen had done what she could-one of the men was on the floor, clutching what could be a broken knee and cursing foully to a stocky hispanic man trying to help him, his own lip bloodied and a goose egg raising on his head. A third was rising from the knocked over couch where he had been thrown, a little shaken with a stiff shoulder but no worse for wear. The man with the earring was furious, standing just far enough away she couldn’t kick him, currently. She could see a few more of the women had come out of the rooms on the second level, worried, anxious faces peering down at the scene between the banister posts.

“What the fuck is this? WHO is this?” He was interrogating her, his men, everyone it seemed-but Concerned Citizen didn’t respond. She struggled weakly against the arms holding her, hands trying to pry at the heavy arm around her shoulders. She was trying to come up with a new plan and catch her breath, but it wasn’t looking good. She was fairly certain he’d popped or torn a few of her stitches-she was bleeding again, anyway. Not as badly as last night, but enough to darken the black material of the stretch running capris, heated wetness against her skin and a painful, distracting throb from what had already been a nasty injury. She was confused and surprised she wasn’t more afraid. Hurting, panicked-but determined to do more, somehow.

Nightwatch had wished her luck, but it had seemingly run out, probably as recently as the man on the stairs, or maybe even last night’s fight with Thunderstorm-surely decades of it had been used up there. The man with the fake tan and the earring had gotten a lucky, glancing blow on her injured leg when she’d tried to knee him-and now here she was.

The worst part wasn’t the pain or the humiliation of being overcome-it was the nervously hopeful expressions on some of the women’s faces, then the slow shift to disappointed anxiety. She had to do something. She...she could take whatever they dished out. Just had to keep them there. Stall for time if she couldn’t flat out win. If the police didn’t come, Nightwatch eventually would. They would think the problem over with her beaten. Hopefully.

“I think she runs with Nightwatch.” The deep voice with a hold on her suddenly said, drawing everyone’s attention. Shit. Doubtful they would remain around now. What if someone had another set of keys to the van? What if they had another set of cars?

“Nightwatch?!” “Yeah. My cousin told me he ran into them working together, before he pussied out and went straight. He worked that art bombing.”

Timothy Whittiers. Now a construction worker two towns over. Small world, but she guessed he hadn’t mentioned her dragging him out of the fire. Might not have mattered, as disgusted as his cousin sounded about him going "straight".

“They’re not answering over there, and neither is the boss.” One of the men by the door reported. Earring caught sight of the women on the second level, bellowing at them to get back to their rooms. Him yelling at them made her feel...angry.

Concerned Citizen was angry. They were scared enough and being forced into prostitution, and he was going to yell at them like that? In front of her?

“Is he there?! Is he on his way here?!” Earring demanded, taking a menacing step forward-what she’d been waiting for. Her hands tightened on the cousin’s arm and she swung her body up, curled her legs and core and exploded at the angry man with a near full bodied kick much like the one she’d hit Nightwatch with once- catching him smack in the chest and blowing him backwards and onto his ass. The impact took him down and staggered the man holding her back-Concerned Citizen driving the fingers of her left hand into the pressure point in the crook of his arm before her legs and body had even fallen back into place, her injured leg a mess of pain-she had DEFINITELY torn her stitches now-and her mind in adrenaline fueled overdrive.

Well, that got him to let go alright-he dropped her and she landed hard on her curved, toned bottom, a sharp roll to her left to avoid the kick he lobbed for her next.

On her feet again, injured, unsteady and breathless-Concerned Citizen was determined to do whatever she could to protect their victims, even as she was looking a very serious loss and a potentially fatal beating in the face. Had to give it all she had and hope for the best, just like she had protecting Nightwatch. He had called it protection, and that felt good, that felt right-she wasn’t out here to fight, but she would if she had to, would stand between the bad guys and the innocent no matter how Pyrrhic of a victory or what losing might cost her. The baton was in her left hand now, crackling.

“This is a citizen’s arrest. Please cease and desist and lay down to surrender!” She demanded, the men at the door lowering phones and starting towards her, the customers blinking back surprise, the battered but still capable gang of men nearest her rising back to their feet and starting in. The girl at the desk looked afraid for her.

She could probably take out three of them with the baton before they beat her to death, or worse. She needed a distraction, one of them to lower their guard so she could grab and use them as a hostage/shield. Something to take their attention for just a moment, just-

 

[Armphid]

One of the two men at the door glanced away from the impending beat down and blinked, "The hell was that?"

Earring grimaced but didn't take his eyes off of Concerned Citizen's slender form, "What? Cops? Nightwatch?"

"Nah, like, something went past the door like-like a flash, man!" He turned around and the door opened with violent force, hitting him and sending him tumbling to the ground. There was a blur of silver that resolved into the shape of a man standing by the reception desk, "That's another guy. I go by Silverbolt." The newly arrived hero wasn't much taller than average, maybe 5'11", and he has a slender, graceful build that was all whip cord muscle. His costume was a tight bodysuit with short sleeves that left his arms bare save for the wrist length gloves on his hands and his boots were more like very high topped running shoes, a belt with a few pouches around his waist. It was all in silver with details in a twilight blue. He was silver as well; skin, hair, teeth, eyes, all a gleaming silver like finely polished chrome. He looked like the most intricate silver statue ever had come to life. There was no mask on his face, which had a roguish cast to it. "And you guys are in it deep."

He stepped forward normally and then into speed with a burst of wind, the men at the doors both on the ground and then both tied up in their own clothes. The man behind Concerned Citizen spun around in a circle and then fell over from a dozen punches. "Hey!" He slowed down to look Concerned Citizen over, "I am very glad to meet you, pretty lady. Concerned Citizen, right? Compiler asks me to look in and see how things were going."

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Concerned Citizen didn't take her eyes off Earring either. He was flanked by the man she'd thrown into the couch and the Hispanic gentlemen she'd socked earlier. Behind her, the cousin was looming, still out of reach but the largest of them-and so the biggest threat, in her mind. Partially encircled, she expected Earring to start the new attack-and being the seeming ring leader, he was her target if she could get him.

Because he was the ring leader, she told herself. Not because he had yelled at the women like that. ...right?

"What? Cops? Nightwatch?"

God she hoped it was Nightwatch. She couldn't finish what she'd started, and while she didn't want him to think her incapable, have more misgivings about her being out at night-she was in over her head and wasn't sure how she was going to get out of it. If she could get out of it. Stalling. Had to stall if nothing else-!

A sheen of silver, barely more than a blur-Aimee's eyes snapped to him, widening with some surprise as he came to a pause at the desk-but Earring had turned too, the men pausing in their advancement-and Concerned Citizen struck.

Darting forward-oh God her leg hurt-and swinging the baton into the man's tanned right arm, she released the handle so her free hand could grab his other wrist as he began to fall, jerking him forward to spin him around, a kick to the back of one of his knees to put him into a kneel, his arm twisted back straight behind his back, adding to the intense pain of having been essentially tasered-the vicious man bent partially forward, a pained sort of open mouthed groan, drooling. "I said to PLEASE lie down!" She issued, stepping partially back so she could twist to see both the two men on her right and the man behind her, on her left.

They had been just as distracted by the silver statued hero-and then further shocked as she took control of their boss, put him on the ground and reissued her demand. She was ready for the burly cousin of Mr. Whittiers-but then the silver blur was there, taking him down.

He spoke to her, knew who she was-a blink. "N-nice to meet you Silverbolt." She said almost in reflex- and then her eyes darted to the two remaining men, one of which had burst forward-only to get smacked with her baton, falling in a twitching heap. She winced-and to her surprise, the last man actually complied with her request, his hands up, eyes wide-and dropping to his knees before laying prone. "Thank you." Aimee said with exasperation to the man, glad that somebody, at least, listened to her for once. Or had that just been because of Silverbolt? Either way-she didn't have to hurt him.

Compiler had sent her help? That...that was so nice of him. She felt bad he had had to, but...but immensely grateful. She had a lot to thank him for, that was for sure. He may have just saved her life, and if not-at least a vicious beating.

The customers started to scatter-but were quickly rounded up by the silver hero, leaving Aimee to quickly ziptie the bad guys she'd downed. When she came to the man who had surrendered, she thanked him for surrendering and helped him into a sitting position-her lips pursed and her tone polite enough-but she held no small amount of distaste for him and every man here, save Silverbolt.

Straightening up and stepping away, visibly favoring her injured leg now-she moved to the door, replacing the baton on her belt and unzipping the pouch on her opposite hip, ruffling around in it for cloth bandaging, neatly side stepping the men entangled in their clothing to glance outside just as a bus was pulling up.

"Thank you so much for coming Silverbolt, that was-thank you." Things hadn't been looking very good there for a moment. Okay, several moments-her leg hurt terribly and her muscles ached from where she'd been sucker punched. She wrapped the bandaging a few times around her wounded thigh, red staining the white almost immediately. She tied a knot as her eyes lifted to the women above them. "It's okay. We're...we're getting you all out of here."

"Some of us don't have anywhere to go." The receptionist said, half raised out of her chair, a ring of keys in hand. Some of the women were starting uncertainly down the stairs, a few guiding what seemed to be drugged out ladies moving in a dim daze. The receptionist didn't look drugged just exhausted, seemed a little shell shocked, almost disbelieving that they were rescued.

"Yes you do, ma'am." Aimee assured her softly, eyes full of concern but kind as she moved to the desk to take the ring of keys. "You all do. There's a charter bus outside, it'll take everyone for medical care and a stay at the holiday inn for now. You're...you're all being taken care of. It's going to be okay." The receptionist's eyes flickered to the downed men, then to Silverbolt, then Concerned Citizen again. Despite everything-she believed the heroine. Things were awful, but she believed Concerned Citizen when she said things would be alright, had...hope again. She reached out and squeezed the petite heroine's hand-then moved around the desk and towards the door, holding it open as the women began to pour out.

CC pulled herself more together with a deep breath, retrieving her phone, turning on the police scanner app so they would know when the police were coming-if it would even be anytime soon, given police response times. And unbeknownst to her-there wouldn't be one until Marie and her men arrived to mop up once they were done with with their own arrests, given the bribes Killian had paid.

"Can you help me clear the upstairs, please? I...it looked a little bad there for a minute, I called the police-" A worried expression. "I don't want them to get here before we've gotten these ladies to safety. I-I mean, I'm sure everything would be fine, I just-they've suffered enough, I don't want there to be a misunderstanding." Anxious, not bad mouthing the police but clearly more than a little worried about how they would handle the victims.

Nightwatch's misgivings about the police were not entirely unfounded. It wouldn't be Marie and her men coming here, after all.

Eventually every woman had been safely seated on the bus and taken away. The men were in various states of panic, pain, and anger, but otherwise the evil place was eerily quiet. Aimee was writing on a piece of paper at the desk, leaning on her good leg. 'Three downstairs, one in van in alley-A Concerned Citizen' before she taped it to the front of the desk where the police would easily see it. She was tired, she was sore in more places than not, and she was heartbroken with the conditions these women had been found in, what they had been forced to do and be. That anyone could do this, could be a part of it. She was nearly sick with relief that they had saved the women in the brothel, and while they would be safe as they started the road to recovery, returned to their lives when ready-there was no way to undo what had happened. And hopefully the families could be reunited as soon as possible-she had faith the other victims, these women's and the as yet unfound women's children would be brought home where they belonged. The feds would get involved, they would take care of the rest.

God, so much awful. So much terrible, terrible awful. Her eyes burned, but she had to stop thinking about this, right now. Had to put it aside, like Nightwatch had said. Wasn't home yet. Had to wait, had to keep it together.

It was hard.

Concerned Citizen. I'm...I'm Concerned Citizen.

"I'm sorry-" CC said to Silverbolt as she put the sharpie down, turning and extending her small hand to him. "I um, didn't really have the chance for a proper hello, but it is nice to meet you Silverbolt." A tired, kind of weak-though still pretty smile. "I'm so glad you showed up when you did, helped me, helped these women. Thank you."

And thank you Compiler. She needed to call him. Tomorrow. Call tomorrow when she could thank him properly, send him the disposition for the FBI.

 

[Armphid]

Silverbolt smiled at the good looking blonde. He was glad Compiler and Nightwatch called him in on this. She'd have been beaten and put in one of those rooms herself. That would be tragic, as if this city and the world hadn't had enough tragedy. This whole thing was heavy enough. This city had always been darker and harder, even in the good times. But this? Hell.

No wonder Nightwatch was such a tool.

And this girl was way, way too cute for him.

He.put a hand over his heart, "You're welcome but I should be thanking you. I got to see you in action and what a sight you are." He looked her over again. Then he blurred behind the desk and came around with the chair the receptionist had been in. "Take a seat; it looks like it's been a long night." Outside, the clinic workers were loading the women into the bus. "But why not have it end on a high note? How about we get you rebandaged there and we go out? I know a few great all nighter joints in every town."

"She had better places to be," came Nightwatch's voice behind them both. The tall, broad vigilante stepped out of the darkness. She was alive. He felt like he had been underwater and just broke through the surface at the sight of Concerned Citizen. Alive. Largely unhurt. Hn. Leg wound reopened. "She needs medical attention, not your attention."

"Oh, so protective!" The speedster grinned impudently, "Hey, after you asked for my help, why not let me give it?" He looked back at the heroine, "I was an EMT before I got my powers. I can take a look at that right now for you, run and get some medical supplies, let my hands work their magic, the we go out and...I let my hands work their magic."

Nightwatch's hands clenched into fists and he felt a sudden urge to belt the silver hued man in the face. He didn't want him talking to her like that. Or putting his hands on her! He seethed silently and stepped forward, "I don't think that's necessary."

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Aimee's brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of guilt in the expressive Caribbean eyes as she glanced to the downed cluster of men who had been intent on hurting her. She wasn't sure her "action" was anything impressive. The baton had done the work, and it was always awful to use it. Especially today because...because she was fairly certain Concerned Citizen hadn't had to use it on Earring-the hold would have been executed just fine without it. Had she hit him because she was angry he had yelled at the women?

No...no, she was just being careful. She hoped.

Her distraction gave the speedster plenty of time to bring the chair over all of a sudden, but she didn't take the seat, just thanked him softly. Too anxious here to want to sit down, be here any longer than she had to. He mentioned going out somewhere, maybe trying to cheer her up? The heroine was a friendly, kind sort, and that was nice of him, but-

"Oh, I'm sorry, I still have to-" She started tiredly and apologetically, having to meet back up with Nightwatch, probably clear the office as he had wanted-but then a growled voice behind them and she jumped with slightly widened eyes, half turning to see the looming vigilante. "Nightwatch! H-hello." Oh, good, everyone was out there too! Thank God. And he was okay-not that she had really thought he wouldn't be, just...well, he was a man under there, after all, and had gone after the bigger place. She had been more than a little worried they might have had Killian's Nightwatch insurance spray. He must not have distributed it. Good. The heroine's shoulders relaxed a little, her usual perfect posture deflating just a slight smidgen, almost imperceptible-a hand coming to rest on the back of the chair. She felt better knowing he was okay. Probably wasn't good more crooks were seeing them together, but-oh well. They were going to prison anyway.

Hopefully for a long, long time.

She was about to say she was alright, just tore some stitching-when Silverbolt teased him, grinned. Aimee frowned a little, and then he moved on about having been an EMT, but she knew she'd need her stitches redone, something she'd rather not have anyone but Charlotte do, especially as high up as it was. The bandaging was enough for now. Maybe they should all go somewhere. Breakfast maybe? But she was so tired, so upset-she needed to go home and take a long shower, try to forget about this awful. About her awful, hurting Killian like that. She wasn't sure she could convince Nightwatch to go, anyway.

But then she thought about his empty suite, how dark and lonely it was there. The bland shake he'd be going home to. She...she should try. He had saved so many people today, he deserved...pancakes, something.

"I...I guess we could all go get breakfast or-" She had started to say, and then the silver hero finished his statement and there was a flicker of unsure confusion a moment, easily seen in the eyes and face of the small blonde heroine, another blink.

Wait, what?

She took a nervous, shy step away, the thought he might be hitting on her only just now entering her mind. P-probably not, she must have just-she wasn't sure what he had meant, exactly, but she must have misunderstood.

Nightwatch growled and Aimee was quick to stutter agreement, polite and apologetic but no less shy, nervous. "I-I'll be okay, thank you though, t-truly. It...it's old, just tore the stitching. Have a...a good d-doctor. Open late. Um-we s-should probably clear out-um-" She wished being Concerned Citizen made her better at things like this. Her face was hot and she felt embarrassed on two different fronts at the same time-for misunderstanding his words as flirtations or at the possibility he WAS flirting with her. The poor shy blonde couldn't win either way.

She must look like an idiot, and in front of two veteran heroes.

"K-Killian's office, anyway." She finished with a nod, picking up her phone just to have something to do with her hands and...and to look busy, letting the bill of her hat hide her face a little, her other hand pulling through the perky ponytail.

 

[Armphid]

Silverbolt's expression faltered slightly. Had...had she really not realized he was flirting with her? She was turning as red as her costume and doing all she could not to meet their faces. He looked over at Nightwatch, feeling the other hero's accusatory glare. He just gave him an incredulous look right back. It wasn't his fault that she was hot! Or, like, a saint. Which just made her cuter!

Nightwatch shook his head, "We'll clear out." The rest shouldn't be said in front of the scum. She hadn't hurt them enough. His hands itched at the thought; he should deliver a few blows to each one to make sure they were there when the cops arrived...but she would be horrified. She'd had enough horror tonight.

"Yeah, let's. Not my kind of place." Silverbolt looked over at Concerned Citizen, "So what's your kind of place? Not for tonight, but-"

"Not ever for you," Nightwatch growled. He pushed the speedster ahead of him for a few feet before the other man flitted away. They both kept pace with their petite compatriot to get out and into the alley maze of the nearby streets. Once they were away, the crime fighter paused and turned to Concerned Citizen. "We'll clear out Killian's office. Concerned Citizen, you're hurt and running on fumes. Go get patched up, eat something with lots of protein-"

"I can recommend-"

Nightwatch went on, steamrolling whatever the visiting hero had been going to say, "And get some sleep. You had a good night but you've got to give your body time to recover."

Silverbolt sighed, "As much as I hate to agree, and not help with that recovery, Killjoy-Man is right. We got this." He winked, "How about you thank us with taking care if yourself and one of those pretty smiles? Though I'm open to hugs. Or kisses."

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Her kind of place? The...the library?

Luckily Nightwatch interrupted him, saved her further stuttered embarrassment as they left-a final, worried glance back into the building that had been holding so much evil while looking so innocuous.

She suppressed a shiver and was glad to leave it for the open air outside, trying not to limp too much or look too hurt, though it was difficult. She was just glad the women were on their way to safety, and relieved that her face and teeth were still intact after the rescue. She didn't have very good dental insurance, after all.

God she was tired. She'd have to blast the air conditioner on her face once she was in the car, wake herself up a little on the way back to that brownstone office building of Killian's-a place she didn't entirely want to revisit, given what had almost happened there. A nervous glance to the wall that was Nightwatch.

He turned and while she felt guilty-Aimee was immensely relieved as he told her to go home, not with annoyance or irritation but...nice. She did hurt. She was running on very little sleep and the bland shake and protein bar from earlier-along with somewhat dazed and strained willpower.

"I-I'm sorry." She started, no protest given whatsoever, just apology. She looked away from the opaque eye lenses and touched at the bright yellow CC patch on her jacket front. "I...I am tired." She conceded. And heartsick. Needed to go home. Had needed to go home the minute she had left the the room she'd bundled the women into at Killian's, had seen his awful first hand.

Silverbolt agreed and she was glad someone would be with Nightwatch, even if...she wasn't sure Nightwatch liked him very much, maybe?

Before she could respond to the Killjoy-Man comment or thank him again, he winked at her-that color returning to her face in record time as he went on, Caribbean eyes widening on the last part. There was no doubt now, there couldn't possibly be, right? He was definitely hitting on her. She didn't know what to do, didn't want to be rude, not to anyone-and his showing up had kept her from getting the hell kicked out of her, maybe even from dying. She wasn't very big after all, too delicate to fare very well if curb stomped.

B-but kisses? What?

The heroine retreated several steps, her car conveniently down the adjoining alleyway. "W-well, here's...here's my car." She adjusted her hat slightly alongside the almost relieved sounding statement, very embarrassed, immensely interested in the ground again. She just...she just wouldn't mention it, maybe? She was so tired and out of it already, maybe that wouldn't seem entirely off, wouldn't hurt his feelings.

"I-I can do the first of those, I think." She finally stammered, feeling more awkward in her silence, breaking it uncertainly. She turned to head towards the powder blue beetle, unlocking and pausing just behind the open door to look back at them both. "Thank you again, Silverbolt, Nightwatch. Please...please be careful." Her eyes shifted to Silverbolt, a small, faint, worried frown. "A-and nice." She added. Which might have seemed odd that it appeared directed at him and not Nightwatch... But she was already slipping into the driver's seat and closing the door softly-before she pulled out backwards, careful to watch where she was going before giving them a little wave-and pulling out onto the street to head, finally, home.

///////////////////////////////////

She managed to make it most of the way home without thinking too much, the furious blush eventually fading away as she slipped out of her jacket and hat, the mask. Silverbolt was...he was a character, she guessed-she felt bad for being...her, but that was all just so terribly awkward and embarrassing. They both probably thought she was strange, now. Well, if Nightwatch hadn't already, given her red faced embarrassment the night before. Wasn't very herolike.

She needed...to work on her quips, somehow. Kind of badly-she just wasn't good at this kind of stuff.

She made it home, forgetting all about the lighter side of the evening as the darker things came back to her, plagued her now that she was alone, now that she was just...Aimee Summers again, mousey, mild mannered schoolteacher. She shakily made it inside her apartment, but almost as soon as she shut and locked the door she just...wasn't able to hold herself completely together anymore, eyes filling with tears and her throat tightening. She made it about as far as the couch and had to sit down, trembling. The...the women's faces, that anxious hope shifting to disappointment-Miss Johnson hanging in the shower-she couldn't do it. She couldn't do this. The fluffy kitten butting against her ankle somehow broke what very little resolve she had left-the tears finally started spilling down her face, breath catching because at the end of the day-Aimee just couldn't handle when other people were in pain, hurting. And this had been the most hurt she had ever seen anyone inflict on another in her life, had ever thought could exist. So much evil, and for what? Money, lust, greed? She took out her phone and did the only thing she could do-called the first number on speed dial.

It picked up on the second ring.

"Charlie?" She said thickly, drawing the kitten to her chest. "C-can you come over?"