Sandra Fuller, clad in a blood-red dress that hugged her ample breasts and cinched at her narrow waist, sat alone in her husband's dimly lit office. The room was permeated with the thick scent of her husband's cigars and a faint metallic tang that Sandra couldn't quite place. She absentmindedly traced the deep red bruise that bloomed on her left cheekbone, a souvenir from the last time she'd dared to confront her husband about his mistress.
Sandra had been waiting in the office for hours, ever since she'd learned that her husband, the notorious gangster Boss Carl Fuller, would be arriving late tonight. She'd planned to kill him the moment he walked through the door, but now, as the hours ticked by and the shadows lengthened, she found herself wondering if she had the courage to go through with it.
She had the video feed link for the buildings Security camera system opened up on her husbands desktop laptop computer and was watching the feed, She was waiting for his sorry face to show up on the monitors so she could get ready for him.
The moment he came through those doors, she was going to blow him away.
She saw on the camera's her husbands men who were guarding the buildings lower floors in order to keep intruders out, and guarding the stairwell and the elevator to make sure she didn't get out either.
As abusive as Carl was, he was very possessive of her, she was his toy to smack around and treat as a slave, and he wasn't going to let her get any funny idea's about escaping.
She had tried to escape many times before when the abuse and neglect had gotten to her, and had always failed.
He or his men always found her and dragged her back to this ivory tower prison of his.
But she didn't want to escape this time, she wanted to end him!
The quiet was broken by the sound of gunshots, shattering glass and muffled footsteps on the floor below.
Surprised, confused, a bit concerned for her own safety, Sandra looked at the security video feed on her husbands laptop to see what was going on in the lower floors.
She watched in disbelief as she saw her husbands men engaged in battle with someone...or someTHING... a shadowy entity surrounded by in a veil of swirling 'smoke' with red eyes that glowed bright like hot coals that that was attacking them.
They defended themselves with their guns, but their bullets seemed to pass through the intruder as if he was a ghost, while he stuck back at them with some kind of gun that shot out glowing 'pellets' at it's intended targets.
These pellets exploded on impact, releasing a purple smoke or maybe a gas. Those who breath the gas coughed and then fell to the floor. Sandra couldn't tell if they were alive or dead, but considering these men worked for her husband and some had laughed at her when she had been struck to the floor by Carl Earlier...she couldn't say she didn't hope they were dead.
The figure looked up at the security camera, and for a moment Sandra felt fear. The figure then made it's way into the elevator. A moment later Sandra heard the sound of the elevator opening up, on her floor!
The...shadowy ghost...thingy, it was here on the same floor she was hiding in!
She then heard footsteps, far in the distance at first, but growing louder.
It didn't take long for Sandra to realize it was heading towards where she was.
Sandra's heart leapt into her throat, but she forced herself to remain still, her hand inching towards the revolver she'd stashed in her purse.
She had hoped to use this gun for a different purpose, but now she needed to defend herself. She knew she had seen the bullets of those thugs not seem to harm this specter at all...but she had embraced a desperate delusion that maybe she'd have more luck than her husbands thugs.
If not, well at least Carl wouldn't be able to harm her anymore. Because she'd be dead!
What a fucked up life it was that she had where death or causing someone else's seemed to be the only release from her nightmare of a life.
The footsteps grew louder, closer, and then the door to the office swung open, revealing a figure clad in black from head to toe. The man wore a iron mask, his eyes glowing red behind the eyeholes in the dark, a black fedora hat and trench coat. He was the Shadow Knight, the infamous vigilante who had been making headlines for his brutal takedowns of organized crime bosses.
Sandra's heart raced as she raised the revolver, her hands trembling. "Who the fuck are you?" she demanded, her voice shaking.
The man raised his hands in surrender, his voice a low rumble. "Easy, lady. I'm not here to hurt you. I'm looking for evidence against your husband. I had no idea you'd be here."
Sandra hesitated, her grip on the revolver loosening. She knew who he was and what he was after. Her husband had been paranoid for weeks, convinced that the Shadow Knight was closing in on him. Sandra had dismissed his fears as paranoia, but now, as she looked into the man's eyes, she knew that her husband had been right.
She lowered the revolver, her voice barely above a whisper. "What do you want from me?"
The man stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "I need to know what your husband is planning. I won't hurt you, I promise. But I need your help."
Sandra felt a sudden surge of anger. "Why should I trust you? My husband is a monster, but at least he's never pretended to be anything else. You're just a hypocrite, hiding behind a mask while you dole out your own brand of justice."
The man's expression softened, and for a moment, Sandra saw genuine compassion in his eyes. "I understand your anger," he said, his voice gentle. "But shooting your husband when he returns will only get you killed as well. Even if he deserves it, you don't deserve such a fate."
Sandra felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and she blinked them back, furious with herself. She hadn't cried in years, not since her husband had first raised his hand to her. But something about the man's sincerity, his compassion for a total stranger, touched her deep inside.
