Sparks was outside her building, leaning against a side outer wall and debating whether or not to go inside. She was running through her options, arm still bleeding quite well, when her thigh buzzed. She frowned, using her uninjured arm to reach over and pull her cell out of her pocket. She pulled her mask up onto her forehead for a second and breathed heavily, still not recovered completely from her fight, as she read the text from Anon. They had met before. The first time was when she had gotten in too deep against a guy who she underestimated, and Anon had just shown up and for some reason, took her side and took care of the guy. And when you did something like that for another cape, you became allies. However unwittingly, however unintentional. She still owed him for that one actually. She hated owing people. 

[i]What’s your thoughts on this situation?[/i]

[b]”Well I don’t like it,”[/b] she grumbled, sighing heavily and leaning her head back against the building and letting the phone lazily hit her thigh as her arm relaxed. She closed her eyes and slid down the building, sitting on the ground and letting every face of every person she’d ever murdered flash through her mind. There were so many. But in her mind, they’d all deserved it. Every case was self-defense, or she’d seen then about to kill, or they’d already committed a crime. She’d done LA so much good. And she lived with her demons for them. And now this gangster was going to ruin it. Ruin her. Ruin street justice. Taking care of the criminals the justice system ignore or let go free. 

Growling under her breath she opened her eyes once more and held up the phone, texting back:

[i]I say Caro’s life for all the lives we can save if we don’t start getting hunted down by the cops[/i]
SEND

Yes. She would kill Caro and hoped Anon and anyone else he knew would join. She only knew of one other merc she had any sort of vague agreement with, and she knew there were a heck of a lot more than 2 in the city. And she wasn’t sure how to take out Caro alone. 

Biting her bottom lip she stood back up again, sliding her mask back down and sneaking back into her building. She made her way to her apartment the same way she’d left it, and shut the door silently behind her. In the dark she made her way to the bathroom, light coming on without a touch. She set to work taking off her costume and climbing in the tub, cleaning her cut and stitching it up. Slowly bruises began to appear on her from the fight she’d gotten in, but she hardly minded them. The stitches were what hurt like crazy. By the time she was done, her hands were a little shaky and she wandered into her kitchen for a bottle of booze, leaning on the kitchen counter and thinking of how best to go about this mission she’d given herself. Kill someone protected, probably by heroes, in police custody. Fun.