[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/oP0vgV2.png?1[/img][/center]
[hr][right][color=white][b]Gotham City Harbor[/b][/color]
[color=gray]11:15 PM[/color][/right][hr]
[indent]Angelo Brancati howled as another metal bolt pierced his body.

For the past few minutes, he had been trapped in a room with a psychopath in purple and black, a woman with a bone to pick with him for reasons he couldn't even begin to understand. He had screamed at her and threatened her but neither thing he said seemed to be getting through to the raven-haired witch that had declared his death her personal objective. He had been shot three times since she appeared and the pain was worse than any bullet wound he had suffered in his life. It wasn't all that surprising considering he was being slowly broken down with a woman that was making a pincushion out of him.

[i]And the pins were crossbow bolts.[/i]

He let out another cry of pain as the vigilante slammed her right foot down into the end of one of the bolts. 

[b][color=8C73B5]“You're pathetic, Brancati.”[/color][/b]

Helena Bertinelli had little interest in learning anything from Brancati, anything he could tell her she [i]already[/i] knew. That was how far down on the totem pole he was. Her blue eyes looked back at him, as she scoffed at the pain that was coursing through his body. There was no quick death for Angelo Brancati; especially not after his crimes against not only her family but the innocent girls who were plucked from Gotham's streets to be products in Brancati and Maroni's sex trafficking ring. Had Brancati not betrayed her family in such a despicable fashion she probably would've still killed him nice and slow.

Which was exactly what she was setting out to do on the cold night.

[b][color=8C73B5]“Now scream for me. Louder.”[/color][/b][/indent]