"You think Pedro has superpowers?" Lois asked. "You read way too many comics, Mitch. Just take the win. We'll send Pedro to jail for the things we can prove."
Mitch stood up abruptly and glared at the woman. Lois returned the gaze, it wasn't the first time in her career that she had gotten it, and it wouldn't be the last. Mitch eventually dropped it, moving towards the door stopping for a small moment. "You know what, this isn't a win. A win will be when the fucking vigilante rips that guy apart," he said before storming out of the office. Lois sat in the quiet of the early morning mulling over the man's words. Five minutes passed, then 10, and eventually, Lois lost count before the ticking of the clock started to grind against her psyche. When she couldn't take anymore she stood up and faced the window. The city for once looked peaceful and quiet. The serenity of the night was something that she wanted to bottle up.
"Fuck," she screamed as she shot her fist through the wall. The concrete crumbled under her force just like paper with nothing. She pulled back and watched more chunks of rock fall onto the ground. Lois looked with indifference at the hole, choosing to make a mental note to spackle over it when she had a chance. Beads of sweat spotted her forehead causing a few strands of hair to stick to her. She felt her heart rate spike up as she started off into space. "I gotta handle this," she murmured as she walked towards the office closet. Swinging the doors open she grabbed her leather jacket and wrapped it around herself as she strolled out. Her lone footsteps were the only noise in the large set of offices. Eventually, she made her way to the elevator and descended to where her car was waiting for her. Climbing in and starting it, she set off on the memorized path toward her home.
As the highway hypnosis took over, Lois couldn't get the look of rage that adorned Mitch's face. In her gut, she knew he was right. Pedro was a piece of shit who deserved to be locked underneath the jail, or buried with his scumbag associates. She could've ensured that if she didn't get distracted. Pulling up to a stop light she twisted her hands as her mind kept pulling her back to just a few nights ago. Pedro was in front of her, a broken man whose tricks were quickly running out. God if she had been faster, or didn't get distracted by that guy who shot her she could've had him. But no, instead he ran and escaped only to be picked up by some fucking rookie patrolman who got lucky. Now she had to face him again, but this time professionally. She had to cut him a deal where he would be put in protection, given three square meals, and all the time to snitch on his associates. Her bosses made her make the deal and she hated it, but what did she know? She was just the lowly assistant ADA. The beat cop who decided to try and swim in the big leagues. Her bosses didn't care about a hitman like Pedro when they knew they could get a kingpin like Midas. Lois scoffed as she turned into the suburban development. Her home came into view and she pulled into the garage turning her car off and closing it. She sat for a moment taking a breath before she exited the vehicle, leaving her purse.
Sitting at the back of the garage was a large industrial cabinet that seemed out of place for the residential home. Lois walked across the expanse until she was in front of it, the combo lock she kept on it was firmly between her fingers. "Five, one, nine, zero," she whispered to herself before tugging against the lock and tossing it onto a nearby table. Lois gripped the doors and ripped them open revealing a set of garden tools held against a wall by a series of metal hooks and bands set against a perforated backdrop. Reaching in she hooked her fingers against one of the holes and pulled it down. The squeaky sound screamed a need for lubrication and hurt her ears. She shrugged off the annoyance while she guided the false wall down toward the bottom of the cabinet. Now revealed to only her was a mannequin clad in an all-black outfit that was better fit for something out of a spy thriller. The long-sleeved shirt and black cargo pants were made out of the same Teflon-like fabric, a security measure from her first few times out. The arms of the mannequin led to gloves that had studded knuckles, something to aid her already impressive punch.
The boots sat at the bottom of the cabinet in a small trunk. When Lois picked them up she felt the impressive weight of the steel toe-tipped footwear. Next to the boots within the trunk was a utility belt. It wasn't glamorous but functional, and that was all she needed. She had rope a hook, a collapsible baton that hit much harder than it looked, and several smaller gadgets she scraped together. The final piece of the outfit was a helmet. It was smaller and thinner than a normal motorcycle helmet but at least five times as strong as the standard consumer ones. She had to call in more than a few favors to get this handy piece of tech. She stripped out of her blouse and slacks, leaving her clad in only a lacey blue bra and thong. Even in the dingy mirror she kept in the cabinet she noticed her body. At her age, she never looked or felt better, even with the bruises from the shotgun blast and knife scars.
She was an athlete back in her prime; basketball, wrestling, gymnastics, and track. All of it was her domain and her body grew to reflect that. Toned muscle with large arms and an iron-clad stomach gave way to a soft paunch, wide hips, and large breasts. Her striking blonde hair and intense blue eyes gave her the image of some Nordic war goddess. It was a true shame she hid it behind the heavy armor of her costume. It was for her own good though, she needed it considering what she was going against. She switched into the gear, not caring about the extra bulk, and walked out the back door.
Her backyard was bare all for a small shed. Walking to it she tore the doors open and revealed a motorcycle. A custom-outfitted chopper with enough bells and whistles to get her anywhere she needed to go...and fast. She grabbed the leather motorcycle jacket off of the hooks and threw it on. Mounting the bike she pressed a button that caused the back of the shed to swing open revealing the glaring dark of the woods. She started the ignition and the advanced tech motor came on with little more than a hum, but she felt the vibration between her legs. What did Mark used to say? "When you turn a bike on, it should return the favor?" Her helmet activated along with the bike, and the visual sensors activated the heads-up display. The darkness of the woods was suddenly illuminated as she took off back toward the city.
She cleared her head while she killed the few lights on the bike. She was a shadow stalking the streets of the city looking for her prey. Leaning towards the right she pulled the bike down an alleyway that cut through the denser part of the city's core. There were several abandoned buildings, each more dilapidated than the last. Taking her left hand off the handlebar Lois tapped her helmet and it responded by going into its built-in X-ray mode. Like magic, the walls of the building disappeared and the vigilante was given access to the interior of these buildings. She saw the usual amount, huddled masses trying to stay warm, animals running around, and the usual street punks vandalizing. She swept her head from side to side, ignoring everything that wasn't the murderer Pedro. Making another quick series of turns she found herself in the southern portion of the group of buildings.
Here it seemed so much darker and colder than the other corners...the perfect hiding spot for a rat. She turned her head focusing on the buildings as she passed them, seeing the bare skeletons of the building. By the third building she saw a group of men, but this time she picked up what looked like guns on them. "Bingo," she whispered to herself as she guided her bike toward the opposite side. On her ride, she scoped out the rest of the building. She took a cautious approach, looking at the building trying to attain how many more goons were in there. The five-story building was fairly bare except for the top floor where it looked like the men were congregating. From the helmet count, there were 12 men inside with roughly 7 guns, and Lois could safely assume countless blades. Parking the bike Lois killed the engine and looked up.
