[center] [IMG]http://i309.photobucket.com/albums/kk396/Mercinus3/Fletch%20Title%20Drop_v2.png[/IMG] [b]Location: A few blocks from The Hub. Time: Night time (10:50pm)[/b][/center] Kayla just sat there, eyes staring towards the ground. The paramedics arrived at the scene a few minutes ago. She had remained holding the make-shift bandage around Mark’s wound to keep pressure against the lodged shrapnel that remained there. While he was still in critical condition, the paramedics were surprised that he held out this long because of her quick thinking. But that wasn’t the thing that had been plaguing her mind. He remained motionless, unresponsive to the rest of the world as a medic placed a blanket over her shoulders and began speaking to her. Her eyes were fixed on her blood-stained hands and the small black box that was in her left hand. She knew that Mark wouldn’t be the sort of person who would go back for something that could be easily replaced like a phone. An engagement ring? That’s something you would definitely chase a bus to get. She had the suspicion that this was going to happen when he said he lost his phone. [i]That would be a good way to start a holiday,[/i] she thought, still staring at the charred box. Then without warning, the flood of memories of the night she had with Jason. The events back then and tonight were mingling and racing through her mind. Tears welled up in her mind. [i]This is too much to bear,[/i] her mind screamed. She was on her way to a nervous breakdown, no medications that were nearby that would help stop the spiraling descent. Her hand almost dropped the box, her wanting to hold her head to help soothe and stop the images rushing through her head. Before the last of her sanity snapped with the rushing images, a voice rang clear through her mind: [i]”That Pasadena bitch has been located.”[/i] The images stopped on one key scene: the image of the man that had said that prior to the explosion. The same guy who had gestured her seemingly determined future with his finger acting in a knife-like motion across his throat. His face burned into her memory, seemingly remaining in there. [i]He either knew me,[/i] she began thinking, something within her core starting to build up. [i]… Or he knew someone who knew me from 7 years ago…[/i] A few pieces of the puzzle from the events back then and today started to fall into place. [i]… Now someone is back and wanting to finish the job that started those years ago…[/i] Numerous threads in her mind began to strain and snap, as if something was emerging. [i]… And because of that, my friend is probably going to lose the love of her life…[/i] The threads started to snap at an exponential rate. Suddenly, the final thread in her mind snapped. [i]… I’m not going to stand by any more and let these bastards ruin anymore lives. Not on my watch.[/i] “Ma’am, are you alright?” She looked up at the female paramedic sitting next to her. During the numbing moments between them arriving and now, the medic had patched up the cut on her head, placing the bandage on it as it wasn’t long or appeared to be deep for stitches. [color=E38C2D]”I’ll be ok. I just need to go home.”[/color] While Mark and Mia had already left the area to head to the emergency room, she didn’t feel the need to head there as well. She needed to keep her mind off of things and she had a near-perfect idea on what to do. While the medic objected initially, they finally relented to Kayla’s demands. The nearby police officer offered to take her back. She told him the address of where she lived. [color=E38C2D]”But first, could you possibly head to Taylor’s Garage in the French District. I remember that I lost my keys to my apartment and I have spares there. That plus I need to get a couple of things from there.”[/color] [hr] [center][b]5 days later (to Present Day) Location: Somewhere in Little Sicily Time: Night time (02:18am)[/b][/center] In the streets of Little Sicily, the small-time criminals began to stir. They have heard about the news about the famous superhero family, The Esper Family, getting wiped out and the fear the criminals in LA had were gone. Those that resided in Lost Haven followed suit and became bolder in their ‘business’. The bombing of a bus five days ago was the boldest some of the criminals have gotten. Though there had been rumours that the bombing was targeting one person by another group along the West Coast, but few people had survived the attack and there apparently weren’t any criminals in the area that would either claim or have knowledge on who did it. But someone had been there and they knew the reasons behind the crime. And he is in the wind. In an alley close to a busy kitchen, two criminals remained outside. The first one, closest to the door of the kitchen, was Argentinian. His slicked-back, medium length brown hair, the split ends assigned unevenly across the jacket that he was wearing. His broken nose seemed to detract from the thick scar that ran down the left side of his face. His brown eyes gazed upon the short, Caucasian man, his right hand stroking the greying stubble on his face. The Caucasian man was completely bald, donning a biker jacket and torn jeans – a stark contrast to the sharp-dressed man. “So, you have my shipment of Dogo Argentino?” The Argentine spoke, his thick accent matching the stern look in his eyes. While there wasn’t any breed-specific legislation in Maine, any eavesdroppers wouldn’t be able to pick up that the dog shipment masked another transaction of weapons. The other man simply nodded, which gave the Argentine good news. His business appeared to be booming with more weapon shipments to arrive from California. “Get the men to move the shipments to the usual locations, then distribute one an inventory check is in place.” He turned towards the closed door, key in hand. A large thud and metallic crack abruptly sounded in the alleyway. The Argentine only watched in shock as the lock to his restaurant had been broken by what seemed to be an arrow. The only thing that stood out about the arrow was the orange-coloured end of it: orange flights, orange arrow wraps and a flashing orange nock. His business partner already started running, afraid of what might happen next. However, he would never reach the end of the alley as he sunk to the floor screaming in agony, another arrow piercing through his right leg, the vicious broadhead bloodied from the clean hit. The Argentine, worried about the unknown presence in the alley, began running in the opposite direction, unaware that there was someone stealthily following him from the rooftops. Much like his business partner, he never reached the end of the alleyway as the figure jumped from the rooftop and came down on him, his head bouncing off the wall with conscious-ripping force. ---- The next thing the Argentine knew, he woke up bound to a chair in chains. From the looks of the streetlamps being invisible from his view and the rooftop being damp around the air-conditioning units, he was on a rooftop. He could see the man he was dealing with lying unconscious on the roof, his right leg bloodied and… [i]bandaged?[/i] [color=E38C2D]”I see that you are awake.”[/color] He looked around to see the source of the stern, near-callous voice. His eyes fixed on the woman that stands in front of him. Her hair was a dark charcoal black except for her fringe, where it splits off into two bright orange patches that run down the masked, sports glasses face that obscured much of her facial features. Her top was a mixture of black and two shades of orange, her shoulders covered by what seemed to be an extended set of gloves, splitting off to expose her midriff. The top was joined by the unusual accompaniment of black tactical trousers, her right leg strapped by a small box where dozens of arrows protruding, the orange fletchings reaching up to her waist level. In her left hand was an expensive compound bow, one of the arrows already attached to the string. Another set of arrows appeared behind her right shoulder, suggesting another quiver of arrows. She remained poised where he was. [color=E38C2D]”Now that you are awake, we are going to play a game. The rule is very simple: I ask a question, you’re going to answer. Do you understand that?”[/color] The Argentine spat on the ground. “Just who the hell you think you are, bi…” Before he finished the sentence, she raised and drew her bow. [i]Concentrate,[/i] she thought reaching through the let-off of the bow. [i]Keep arm straight. Eye focused on the target you want to hit. Slowly expand your shoulder muscles.[/i] To a keen observer, her right elbow slowly started to go back, pulling on the string further. They would also notice her elbow slowly going down in height as well, her hand slowly shifting position on the mechanism on her hand. [i]Keep expanding until…[/i] The mechanism clicked, the jaws holding onto the [url=https://i.ytimg.com/vi/4qytQDzWj_A/hqdefault.jpg]D-Loop[/url] snapped open, the full power of the 60lbs compound bow surging the arrow forward. [i]… the shot is made,[/i] she finished thinking, taking less than a second for the arrow to leave the bow and hit the guy in his left shoulder, the broadhead stopping the arrow once on the other side of the body, the arrow grinding to a stop as it pierced and fractured the shoulder blade. The man let out a roar in pain as bone fragments hit a few nerves. [color=E38C2D]”Failure to follow said rule, I put an arrow through you. Of course, you’ll remain alive at the end of it, but how much of a pin cushion you would be would depend on your co-operation.”[/color] She attaches another arrow, drawn from the quiver on her leg, to the bow. [color=E38C2D]”First question: What do you know of a man with a half-skull tattoo on his face?”[/color] The man looked at her, hate filling his eyes, before spitting in her direction. A second later, another arrow hit him, this time in the left leg. “Alright!” he roared, teeth gritting through the pain. “Some say that he works as one of the middle-ranking members of the Penose that is setting up shop in Lost Haven. They are already making a name for themselves in the drug world here with all that fine Mary Jane from the Netherlands.” [color=E38C2D]”See, now that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”[/color] [i]He’s easier to break into than I thought,[/i] she mentally noted. [color=E38C2D]”Next question: What connections do the Penose have that grants them explosives?”[/color] “Look around you, lady. We’re in Lost Haven. A lot of the groups here deal with that. The Nigerians, the Haitians, the Italians, you name it. Heck, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Triads or the Yakuza are doing that too here.” [i]Ok, tracking this guy down through the explosives will be more challenging than I have anticipated. Will probably have to find another route to make tracking easier.[/i] [color=E38C2D]”Very good. Now final question, and this is important: Where can I find this man?”[/color] The man had a look of surprise on his face. “I… I… I don’t know.” Something didn’t sit right with the woman. She undid the sling that was in her bow hand and placed the bow on the wall that was next to her. She rushes up to him, kicking him square in the chest to knock him onto his back. The protruding arrow from his right shoulder shifted back into the wound where it came from. She knelt on top of him, her right hand grabbing the arrow and twisting the shaft. The Argentine screamed out in pain. [color=E38C2D]”Give me a location!”[/color] “I swear I don’t know! On my dying mother’s life, I do not know! I never dealt with the Penose, especially to trade them the guns.” She yanked the arrow out, the broadhead lining up with the wound that was already there. She then pulled the arrow out of the man’s leg. [color=E38C2D]”Well if you don’t know, you are of no more use to me. And as I have said, you’ll be alive at the end of it.”[/color] She knelt down beside him and drove a right hook to the side of his face, knocking him unconscious. Ten minutes later, she reached to a black motorcycle. The sports bike whirred to life as the key was turned in the ignition. [color=E38C2D]”With that lead being a near dead-end, I need to find these groups and start looking for a lead to get to the Penose.”[/color] She placed the helmet on her head and kicked the bike off, speeding off into the night as the faint sounds of sirens could be heard. ------------- [i][b]The news report for the next day…[/b] … In other news, police have apprehended two men in suspicion of arms smuggling. An anonymous tip is said to have been made to the police at 3am this morning, where the suspects were beaten. A recording had been located on them with the details of the smuggling, detaining the goods earlier this morning. Police are asking for any witnesses to reach out for the person responsible for the assault on the men. Next, we go to Joanne for the weather…[/i]