Justice By Any Other Name...

[Ambrosia_64]

The superhero was a dying breed. As politicians became more corrupt, so did the laws-until many had given up in disgust and gone back to their daily lives, refusing to uphold such corruption.

While others continued on as outlawed vigilantes, struggling to stand for the truth and justice the courts no longer represented. Villains started to take over, carving entire territories for themselves in cities, states and islands-some the costumed meta humans of yesteryear, some just plain criminals.

Gangs ran rampant. Anarchy ruled. The police were either easily bribed shams or much hunted -animals-. Everyone, everywhere, was struggling to eek out an existence in the madness.

But here and there, beacons of light shone. In certain cities across the globe, powerful meta human heroes kept the grime away through their mere presence. Their reach was limited, but those places were safe. As the years passed, such places became fewer and fewer-but they were near legendary, as faraway and unreal as whispers of Atlantis.

For the rest, however-the superhero was a thing to be hunted down and destroyed. Alliances were broken as the sheer number of foes grew to outstanding heights-masks were beaten, murdered and cast into other dimensions. The people ceased to rally to them. The world became jaded and broken and then-he showed up, and changed the game forever.

They called him the Mask Killer. He wore a helmet with a face shield, black street clothes-and was supposedly invincible. Metahuman and as powerful as the once heralded Superman, the Mask Killer arrived on the scene and started slaying superhero after prominent superhero, just another super powered villain punk-until, in front of a stadium full of horrified onlookers, he beat the Blue Streak into a bloody mess-and raped her on national television.

Then he went after White Flame, a buxom, leggy blonde commonly seen in the skies of California, her blue cape whipping in the wind, the white, sparkly spandex costume, the miniskirt. She was lovely and outrageous, had sat for an interview (and photo shoot) with Maxim and, when the Governor of California demanded she stop "harassing the good people" of the Powder Keg gang-given a press conference where she implicitly told him to kiss her ass.

A bold heroine, and while slightly crass-one who had always stood for truth, justice, and the American way. She had been one of the few hold outs-strong enough to thwart the attempts on her life, powerful enough to protect an entire state-and the Mask Killer still cut her down, kidnapping the woman in broad daylight over the skies of L.A.

Days later, her rape and murder were broadcast live online to hundreds of thousands of viewers.

The world became that much darker for the superhero. Countless more died at the sadistic hands of the Mask Killer, a man who never spoke, never allowed too much of himself to be caught on his tapes-but managed, one way or another, to eliminate every female who dared don a cape, and a good number of men too.

The world was not a safe place for anyone, anymore. It was dark, terrible and awful. Innocence was dead-it was all the good people of the world could do to go on surviving in a world without hope.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

In the last few weeks The Protagonist was in the news no less than six times. She had busted and beaten the crap out of some drug pushing PCP addicts in the lower east side-and when a high, armed thug ran into the street firing into the doorway of the building, a local student started recording on his smart phone, capturing for the first time the Protagonist in action as she burst through a side window and took the larger man down.

She had somehow tracked down a small child pornography ring operating in the basement of a Happy Pizza Parlour, leaving a bundle of files on the doorstep of an ace reporter who still gave a damn about the news. Several police officers were implicated in the ring, and despite no actual evidence to support it, everyone knew it was the Protagonist who had exposed them.

And now, after a while of playing reluctant, newbie crooked cop Liana Immaculadora-she had figured out which crooked cop was the contact with a small but violent gang operating on the docks, and even better-who the particular gang leader was that bought, occasionally, assault rifles from the evidence locker.

Liana Immaculada was sick of how bad things were. Surviving was NOT enough for the common man-it wasn't right, that mothers were afraid to send their kids to school. It wasn't right, that the jails had revolving doors on them, people out as soon as they were in. Wasn't right, that you could be robbed and clubbed down in broad daylight and no one, absolutely -no one- was going to help you. Call all the senators you want. They didn't care. Call the police-they were taking bribes and snorting coke on street corners, threatening hookers into sleeping with them.

No. And the common man was powerless to do a damned thing, the laws that should have protected him made instead into a prison.

In her day job, she was just a beat cop. She hadn't been crooked and they mistrusted her because she hadn't been crooked. And so she had to change. She had to lie, and pretend to be as corrupt as the rest. She, like everyone else, was powerless so long as she remained true to the sworn oath to "protect and uphold the law".

And that made her angry. She was so, so terribly angry.

And tonight, as The Protagonist, she was going to take it out on somebody who deserved it, she was going to do something, because someone had to.

Sprinting across a roof and making a leap across the gap between two warehouses, the crimson cloaked figure rolled to a kneeling stop as the loose cloak settled around her petite form. Admittedly, she didn't look like much. Called red riding hood by the mooks and media outlets until a few weeks ago, it was hard to shake the phrase entirely-she DID look like a fairy tale reject.

The cloak was lined with a heavier material to whip at foes and knock them down with it's weight-and the loose material had helped her miss a bullet or two. She moved to a half crouched position, slinking across the roof towards one edge. She was smaller, five two or three at the most and wearing black, flat heeled leather boots, black leggings, and a dark grey tunic with a weapon belt hanging off one curved hip. Her mouth and nose were covered with a simple black cloth bandit style, a domino mask over her almond shaped, dark dark eyes.

The hood of the cloak kept most of her face in shadow, making her appear a bit like the grim reaper.

Gloved hands grabbed hold of the edge of the roof as she dropped over the side and down onto a window ledge, the dirty, dusty glass concealing both her presence-and her view of inside.

Sliding it open, Liana slipped inside to crouch behind a stack of crates. She was up on a loft, of some kind, and sneaking across it she hoped no one looked up-the steel grating wasn't much for concealment, even in the gloom. She heard voices below, chanced a peak-and felt her heart skip a beat to see not some punk-but a tattoo'd bald head, one of the Snake freaks with such a hold on the city.

Well shit. This was going to be harder than she thought.

No backing out now though-she already knew a gun deal was going down, she couldn't turn her back on it. She was a -hero-, after all, and she'd be damned if she went yellow now. Slipping away towards the wall, she darted towards the west side of the building to pull a breaker-cutting the electricity and throwing the place into darkness.

She pulled down a pair of nightvision goggles from the top of her head, the expensive army tech giving her the edge she needed in a situation like this.

Startled shouts and accusations filtered up-but by then she was already dropping to the floor below, directly behind one of posted guards near the door-and took him out with a sharp blow to the head with her black jack. Hard enough, perhaps, to fracture the poor bastard's skull. The crack, of course, got everyone's attention-but not before Liana was on the move again, taking out an armed man with a strong kick to his stomach-and the fight was on.

She used the cloak to distract and deflect bullets as she flew from one to the next, gunfire on all sides, illuminated in the flashes as the petite powerhouse beat men down with her blackjack and, here and there-shocked the hell out of them with an electrified baton.

A door flew open somewhere overhead, the sounds of heavy footsteps on the metal grating-shit. If they flipped on the lights...

But still she fought on, planning her escape through a smaller door on the ground floor.

 

[hopelessmaleromantic]

He stared at his reflection in the window. He did not like who was staring back.

Once upon a time he was a hero, part of a team with other like minded individuals. The teams name was The Guardians. He was never one of the heavy hitting superheroes who could pummel their foes into submission, instead he was there to provide support and tactics to the the other members.

He still remembers the fateful day when it at all went wrong. As the brains of the group it was his job to do the maintenance of their base. By a stroke of luck he was stuck in a ventilation shaft fixing a fan when all of a sudden he heard a loud bang. Slowly he crawled his way to the nearest grate. He peered through it and what he saw horrified him. Every single member of the The Guardians bar him were dead. Stormchild had his throat ripped out, Whitecowl had a hole where is heart should be, Wolfboy was ripped limb from limb and Darkblade, their leader, he was decapitated and his head was stuck on his sword. All of his friends, comrades were dead so he did what he thought was best and he ran.

He ran far far away all the way to a small village in Thailand, where no one new of heroes and villains. While there he was transformed from being a once grinning hero into a predator. A predator who preyed on those who had evil on their mind. A predator known only as Apex.

Apex did not surrender is prey to the police, oh no, Apex killed them. Apex was not under any illusion that he was a hero doing good for the world, no, he was a hunter, a killer, a wraith hell bent on killing all the scum that lived in the city. Apex would be powered by a rage, a rage born from

A noise broke him from his daydream. He had gotten lost in his memories while he was on patrol. Two men walked past him as he meandered along the dark dank alley. Those two men would have seen a dark skinned man of average height, around five 10, with black hair dressed in a black hoodie and a pair of drainpipe jeans. They might have noticed that he was of slim build and they would have definitely noticed his eyes, his rich golden eyes with iridescent flecks of blue. But they would not notice the colour of his eyes, oh no, they would notice the absolute lack of warmth, yet these same eyes burned with a cold fury. Having said that neither saw any of this as he walked with his head down and hood up. What they certainly did not know was underneath the hoodie the man had a pair of twin silenced desert eagles and two tanto, short daggers of a japanese design. After the two men pass him he breaks into a silent sprint.

Recently Apex had begun tracking a new hero, a figure in a red hood. It reminded him of the fairy tale, little red riding hood. This figure . He had seen a flash of red over a rooftop and was following the route that he knew the figure in red would have taken. His thoughts were ratified as one of the men he had passed was a skinhead with one a snake tattoo. His thoughts were further ratified as he heard the soft sound of a window sliding open. He quickly scales a building and looks around. He noted that the warehouse adjacent to the one he was one had a window that was slid open.

Bingo.

Only a person could have entered through there. He only hoped that it was the figure in the red hood. Suddenly, he hears gunshots. He quickly makes his way over to the next warehouse. He takes note of the armed skinheads who had surrounded a door on the groundfloor. Apex knew that he had a decision to make he could enter the fray inside or he could take care of the men outside.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

It was time to go.

Liana shoved past a stumbling gang member and made for the door, shoving the night goggles back atop her head and racing blindly. As she predicted, the lights flickered back into being-and a dozen angry shouts seemed to overlap as men turned towards her-

BAM!

A woman in a red hood burst through the door with impressive force, two hands coming down on the shoulders of one startled man before she flipped over him, landing with a near stumble and a Spanish curse before running like a bat out of hell, bullets whizzing past her crimson form.

Several men gave chase, but the figure was startlingly fast and already had a good hundred meters of a headstart-she was cutting down an alley before they even entirely figured out what had happened. (Whatever actions of badass you'd like to take, feel free!!)

Moments later she was hiding on one side of a steel shipping container, struggling to catch her breath without panting too loudly, gloved fingers tenderly rubbing her right ankle. Damn. Just...just damn.

Chalk that up to misinformation...

 

[hopelessmaleromantic]

He quickly clambers his way down to the ground. He takes note of the skinheads, some of them have surrounded the door while others are some distance with their guns aimed towards the door. He silently makes his way over to the first gunman he sees. He creeps up behind the man and uses the tanto to pierce the man's jugular and larynx, effectively silencing him, in one quick thrust. After his first kill he begins to pick off the men who are at some distance from the door. His tanto are a blur as he slices and stabs his way through their jugulars. Just as he has finished withdrawing his blades from the throats of the last gunmen he has killed the door bursts open and he sees a flash of red zoom out. Even before he could react the figure in red had bolted into an alleyway.

Something told him that he too had to give chase to this mysterious figure. He enters a yard filled with steep shipping containers. He hides himself in the darkness and shadows and listens for any odd sounds.

Ah! There its is. The sound of a person breathing hard, yet also doing their level best to hide their panting. He quietly makes his way over to the source of the sound. He finally catches up to the figure in red. As he comes around one of the containers, he sees a person in a red cloak crouching on the ground with a hand rubbing their ankle. He sheathes his tanto and makes his way over to the crouching person.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

She was facing away from him when he turned the corner- but cops had good instincts, and it only took her a moment to feel his eyes on her back. Liana turned her head sharply-and was on her feet in an instant, turning to face the man, her concealed lips moving behind the cloth. "Stay back." She warned in a low, dangerous tone, squaring her shoulders and hips before the cloak fell closed around her.

She was no more than a red visage with dark, dark eyes glaring hard behind a domino mask.

Within the cloak, her hand tightened around a certain object on her belt, even as her throat dried.

Who was this guy? He looked like trouble, and what was worse-he was wearing black street clothes. No helmet though. No facemask-Liana's fingers twitched. The Mask Killer?

 

[hopelessmaleromantic]

So this was the figure in red. He knew that his hoodie obscured most of his face. The first thing that entered his mind when he heard the figures voice was that it was a female. She cut a diminutive figure, five two maybe three, but damn she had skills, her speed and sharpness were definitely impressive but it was her eyes that truly captivated him for in her eyes he saw something, a fire that had long been extinguished inside of him.

He speaks slow and soft, "Relax, If I wanted you dead you would be."

Silence

"You've got yourself involved with some very dangerous people. Your a single woman going up against an organization. Do you have a plan at all?"

 

[Ambrosia_64]

"Relax, if I wanted you dead you would be."

The woman growled, voicing her disagreement. So long as he kept his distance however, she made no moves. Mentally she planned no less than three escape routes, as well as a plan of attack should he prove hostile. Instead of attacking, however, he got chatty.

"Don't patronize me." She said firmly and heatedly as he asked her about a plan, her upper body leaning forward slightly, still concealed within her red cloak. It was difficult not to retort back with sarcasm. The less she said, the better. "I think we both know there are bigger threats out there."

The Mask Killer had made his impression firmly. Even now, in this alley-Liana wasn't absolutely sure this guy wasn't him. If it was-she was talking to the devil himself, and wouldn't be living very long, most likely.

"Who the hell are you?" She demanded, since he had nothing to distinguish him, exactly, from anybody else.

 

[hopelessmaleromantic]

"Sorry, I meant no disrespect."

*silence*

He slowly draws his weapons and lays them on the ground, not wanting to spook the woman.

"You can relax, I am not the mask killer. If I was, by now you would be stripped, raped and murdered. I heard of a hero in red who was taking the fight to the scum of this city and I wanted to check it out."

"Once upon a time I was like you, a hero, now all I am is a predator. My prey are the fuckers who are ruining my City. I am Apex."



"Now then, who are you and what exactly are you doing?"

 

[Ambrosia_64]

"That's nothing to speak lightly of." She snapped, but her posture shifted, more on her heels with a bit less anger as he laid out his weapons.

Apex. She took a surprised step back, a slightly pained expression flitting across her features as her weight came down on that ankle. "The killer?" She edged closer to the the shipping container, her tone lowering into that angry near growl. "Yeah, we got little in common pal. You're an executioner. I'm just a citizen with anger issues."

The cloak parted for her to place a hand against the shipping container, and he would see her other hand release a black cylinder hanging off her belt. No doubt some weapon she would have used on him, had he been him. She took in a breath. "Don't you read the papers? I'm this city's newest protector. They call me red something or other. Officially, I go by The Protagonist. And I don't have to explain myself to murderers."

 

[hopelessmaleromantic]

"Well then let me give you a little word of advice."

"If you see the Mask Killer, do not engage him. Instead run and pray to whichever God you can think of that he doesn't follow. Because if I really was him then that black cylinder in your hand would do precious little against him."

As he crouches to pick up his weapons, he says "I've seen heroes die and the way you're going you will probably be next."

Suddenly he hears footsteps. He looks up at The Protagonist to see if she has heard.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

"What'd I say about patronizing me?" She repeated, liking this Apex asshole less and less the more he talked down to her.

When Apex looked back up at the sound of footsteps, he'd find himself facing emptiness. She was gone.

_____________________

Jesus. Her ankle was swelling up, she must have hurt it in the encounter. Not what she needed right now-and neither was this uppity Apex character. On the one hand, he was at least taking a stand and DOING something about this city's corruption-on the other, he was a murderer and no matter how much she wanted to dress that up-she was too committed to the law to do so.

At least, what shambles remained of the law...

Creeping silently along the top of the shipping container, she kept to the left side of it in case Apex looked up. She was currently hidden from his view but afraid to leave-she didn't know who was approaching, and damn it all if she ditched a veteran of this game. Even if he was a killer.

 

[hopelessmaleromantic]

"I know you are still here"

"I get that you don't like me, that's fine, but just this once work with me."

He stands motionless, listening as the footsteps get louder. He knows that if he engages them head on then he will be shot down in a matter of seconds. He decides to adapt.

He picks up a discarded soda can of the ground and launches it high into the night sky. He hides in the shadows and waits for it fall.

*CLANG*

A sudden outburst of whispers and the footstep begin to converge on the fallen can. Through the corner of his eyes he sees shadows moving.

Aha!

He holsters his owns guns and draws his blades.

He dashes out from between two shipping containers and runs directly into a group of three gunmen. He has no time to think, acting on instinct he lunges forward and with both tanto slashes their jugulars. The other gunmen has almost raised his gun but Apex simply gets in close and stamps on the gunmen's instep. It gives him sufficient time to withdraw his tanto and bury it into the gunman's neck. He withdraws both his tanto and begins to sprint towards the exit of the shipping yard.