[CENTER][H3][B][COLOR=darkslateblue][hr]L I S A  M A R I E  W A L K E  R[/COLOR][/B][/H3][sub][b]Los Paradiso[/b] | 02:29AM [/sub][hr][hr][sub][u][b][color=slategray]Interacting with:[/color][/b][/u] [i][color=ed1c24]Claire “Noctis” Quinn[/color][/i] [color=slategray]([@Superboy])[/color][/sub][hr][hr][/CENTER]

	Like a runaway sixteen-wheeler that’s had its brake lines cut, Fury flew towards the criminals, right arm cocked back ready to do some smashing. Mere yards away she threw that fist forwards in the biggest, wildest haymaker you’ve ever seen in your life, powerful enough to smash concrete, quicker than Ali’s hey-day jab. It was a fight ending blow, no doubts about it. Anyone on the receiving end of that rocket would spend the next four weeks in a hospital bed, then the two after that suffering painful dental reconstructive work.

	All that said, she missed.

	The punch went wide, like [i]really wide[/i], and Fury hit nothing but air. To be fair to her and her efforts, she hit the air hard, and if the air cared about things like that, then it was going to be freaking sore, but it still couldn’t be labelled a successful assault. Fortunately, her inexpert strike became an impromptu shoulder-barge as she bodily barrelled into her intended target, sheer momentum throwing the man, a Third Street Roughneck by the looks of his gang colours, from his feet with a shocked yelp. Fury paused a moment to gape at the fallen man, taking note of his swiftly reddening, acne ridden cheeks, and the look of clenched pain on his face. 

	[color=darkslateblue][i]My first conquest. It’s really happening! I’m doing it![/i][/color] Though she might have been a bit quick in congratulating herself, as crew-cut took her foes moments inaction to sock her in the jaw. Commendable initiative really, but Fury was a little beyond simple punches now, the blow glancing across her face, though without doing any real damage, unless you counted how bad it hurt crew-cut’s fist. The vigilante responded with a two-handed shove, inexpert yet effective, the gangmember flying from her feet hitting the street hard some five meters away, rolling into a tumbled heap. [color=darkslateblue][i]Oh gosh, got to remember how strong I am. I could kill someone if I’m not careful. Did [b]‘Man of Steel’[/b] teach you nothing?[/i][/color]
 

	“Fuck her up!” Shrieked the tattooed fatty who Fury had so recently shown that, no, she hadn’t bitten off more than she could chew by coming here. Seemed he wanted some revenge by proxy, seeing as with his injured leg it didn’t look like he was going to be going toe-to-toe with the vigilante anytime soon. The two-other bad-guys still standing didn’t need telling twice, and leapt into the attack with wordless cries.

	A boot thunked into Fury’s midriff, bouncing painfully from the hype-hardened flesh, though the vigilante reacted quickly, grabbing the leg before the kick could be retracted, and gripping it by the foot and under the knee, used it as leverage to twist the Roughneck from his feet, driving him face first into the unyielding street, a hollow thwock reverberating through the night as teeth cracked against concrete. It looked like it might have been an esoteric Judo throw, but really it was just the knee-jerk reaction of a desperate girl, which probably wouldn’t have worked if she hadn’t been three times as strong as a full-grown man. 

	The second fighter had circled around her while this was happening, thinking to exploit her blind spot while she rearranged his ally’s facial features. Clasping both hands together, he delivered a double axe handle strike at the top of her spine, where neck met torso. Fury squawked aloud, more in shock than actual pain, and staggered a pace or two, though managed to keep on her feet. He antagonist went to follow up, though before he could press his advantage the vigilante spun on her heel, right arm outstretched to club into her enemies’ cheek. Succeeding where the gang member failed, she threw another couple wild punches before delivering a crunching kick that slammed into the man’s shin. He squealed in pain, hurling himself from Fury then scrabbling away as quick as his battered body would carry him, deciding that in this case, discretion was the better part of valour.

	He needn’t have bothered, as Fury’s attentions were now fixed on his friends, as more and more of the combatants were noticing the mess she was making of their crews, and began to make peace with their rivals to hurl themselves at the vigilante, screaming threats and curses, raining blows down upon the girl. Fists and bottles smashed against her, a barrage that would hammer even the greatest of prize-fighters to their knees. Not Fury though. She’d done enough cowering tonight. She was going to take her likes and come back swinging. Anything they could dish out, well she was going to weather it, and hand back more besides.

	She didn’t fight clean, she didn’t fight smart, she didn’t even fight all that dirty. She just fought wild, fists swinging to and thro, kicking out at anything moving, stomping on feet and knees, and anything that could be stomped. At one point she was aware of someone latching on to her back, arms wrapped around her neck like they hoped they could choke her out. She dealt with that by spinning on the spot, as fast as she could, a two-hundred-pound man hanging on to her for dear life as she pirouetted, the sight a disturbing cross between a ballerina performance and a rodeo drill. Eventually it got too much for the bad-guy, his grip failing him as he was sent spinning in a barrel roll. Good thing too, as Lisa was just on the verge of being sick. No time to be green around the gills though, as her foes were closing in once more. 

	Then the shots rang out. Four distinct cracks, loud even above the shouts, the swears, the constant pitter-patter of raindrops. Four gang-members fell to the ground, three screaming, one dreadfully quiet. For a moment everyone froze, confusion gripping everyone present.

	“They’re packing heat!”

	“Fucking go, run!”

	“You shit-sucking Thirds are fucking dead when we come back, you hear me, cold-cunting-corpse [b]dead[/b]!”

	In moments the turf war was over, Third Street Roughnecks and the Welcome Crew deciding that between a super powered vigilante and a hail of bullets, it just wasn’t worth sticking around. A few, more committed and tenacious than their friends, got a few last knocks in for good measure before high-tailing it, and a handful slowed their own retreat to drag some of their injured away, including two who had been shot by the newcomer packing heat, though once all was said and done the clear majority had made good their escape, leaving only a few groaning wounded, and one or two frozen in shock.

	Like Lisa.

	She couldn’t take her eyes off the one man who had fallen and remained silent. He hadn’t gotten up. No one had dragged him away. His eyes were open wide to the dark night sky and the driving rain falling down upon him, and she couldn’t help but think [i]‘why aren’t you blinking.’[/i] But she knew why he wasn’t blinking. Deep down she knew, but she couldn’t even countenance that it had happened. So instead she stared, and wondered, and ignored the truth. It quickly got too much, and she had to tear her gaze away.

	[color=darkslateblue][i]Look at the shooter,[/i][/color] she told herself, [color=darkslateblue][i]look and take note. Details. You need to know who you’re dealing with.[/i][/color] It was sound reasoning, but it was just an excuse. Action so as not to allow herself time to think about what had just happened.

	The woman, for the shooter was a female, was a little taller and heavier than Lisa herself by the looks of things, though some of that extra weight may have been due to the leather trenchcoat she was wearing. Two pistols were still sitting in her tight grasp. [color=darkslateblue][i]Could I survive a gun shot?[/i][/color] Lisa wondered, a tight worm of fear coiling through her gut. She had the ballistics vest, of course, but she didn’t even know if it worked. She’d got it online, for petes sake. For all she knew it was filled with pillow-stuffing and good intentions. If the mystery woman opened fire again, Lisa could be in some [i]very[/i] real trouble. 

	She remained silent for a few moments, just staring at the newcomer. It didn’t last though, as eventually she had to say something. She told her self it was because they couldn’t just stand in the rain all night, having a stare-down. The real reason was her thoughts were starting to catch up with her again, and the weight of that man lying eyes-open in the street behind her was building higher and higher.

	[color=darkslateblue]“You shot them.”[/color] She stated. Stupid. Scared. She couldn’t have sounded less like a hardened vigilante in that moment if she tried. Right then, she just couldn’t care about that. She was scared, and she was feeling more and more stupid by the moment.

	[color=darkslateblue][i]“Why? How could you?”[/i][/color] A simple enough question, and probably one with a simple enough answer, but to Lisa the answer mattered. It mattered a lot. 

[hr][CENTER][SUB][I][COLOR=SILVER] I'm dying slow but the devil tryna rush me,
see I'm a fool for pain [/COLOR][/I][/SUB][hr][H3][B][COLOR=SLATEGRAY]S U C K E R   F O R   P A I N[/COLOR][/B][/H3][/CENTER]
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[INDENT][COLOR=SLATEGRAY][B][I]Status:[/I] [COLOR=LIGHTSTEELBLUE]RESOLVED[/COLOR]
[I]Time of Day:[/I] [COLOR=SILVER]Night[/COLOR]
[I]Weather:[/I] [COLOR=SILVER]Rain[/COLOR][/B][/COLOR][/indent]