How It Begins: Ch. 3

Jacky’s Pub, Lipot City

“To Sam, the woman that always made us feel like better people relative to her. May we never have to work with someone like that ever again!” Vito yell over the bar’s ambient noise to the assembled police officers who worked with Samantha. Pretty much every officer that regularly worked with Sam is present, all officially there to mourn the passing of a beloved officer and coworker and actually there to celebrate the bitch’s sudden absence from their lives. They all drink to Vito’s toast, a few supplying “Amen”s as they do, and go about their various conversations.

“Beautiful Vito; just beautiful!” Sam yells to her friend.

“Thank you! Glad I could deliver a good toast for one of these few good days. Hey, I ever tell you about the time Sam and I had to respond to an emergency from Jenny Boyle!?”

“Jenny Boyle!? Who’s- wait that old racist lady that lives next to the burger joint!?”

“Yeah!”

“No, but now I demand that you do!”

It should be noted that this conversation and the next one contain a many “What did you say?”s and other misunderstandings, but that would be annoying and boring to both read and write. Therefore, we’ll be taking narrative license and pretend that the conversation flows perfectly for the sake of everyone’s sanity and attention span.

“So we’re responding to a possible home invasion, but when we walk in everything is fine! Boyle explains that the ‘home invader’ was in fact a plumber that she hired and became convinced that he was trying to rob her because quote ‘he looked like someone who would rob you’! Poor bastard apparently didn’t get through the door. But anyways, she didn’t explain this to me! No when I ran up to the door, she very slowly told me ‘I neeeed to SEE your PART-NER.’! I tell her that I speak Cambellian fluently, what with it being my native fucking language after all! Then the bitch breathes a sigh of relief and tells me ‘Oh, thank God you’re smart enough to talk like normal people!’”

“Oh God!”

“At this point my thoughts are ‘Fuck this shit, I’m out!’ and I call Sam to get her ass up here and deal with it! She talks to the lady while I just wait in the car and I wait for twenty minutes! I finally go back in to see what the hold up is, and I see Boyle inviting Sam to a meeting of the Citizens for Family Values and Public Decency!”

“Oh God, no!” Sanders say, cringing with a huge grin on her face.

“Yep! So I gently remind her that she’s a fucking cop on duty and to get her ass back in the car! That’s how I met Boyle and I’ve never gone back there since!”

“So you’re the reason Sam was in the CFPD!? I hope you realize that you’re awful person!” Sanders teasingly tells her friend.

“I’m one of the very few good people that I know! Most people are just- they’re fucking people, I guess!”

“And what are most ‘fucking people’ like!?”

“You mean aside from the psychopaths with axes and cis-heteronormative fundies!? Stupid, vain, selfish, cowardly. I could go on!”

“You are twenty goddamn four, way too young to be that cynical! I don’t disagree, mind you, but still! ”

“That probably says more about the world than me!” Vito says, noticing the familiar faces of two strangers as they walk through the door. “Uh, I’ll get out of your hair and stop bumming you out!”

“It’s not that bad!”

“No, I just saw some people I wanted to talk to more than you!”

“Ah, well knock yourself out!”

“Well look who it is!” Alexia and August here as soon as they enter the bar. They turn to see the cop that they had helped not even 48 hours ago greeting them.

“Hey, you’re that cop from the other night at the… charity ball thing!” August responds, trying to seem like he knows how to act in the “talking to the stranger you fought with in life or death battle the other night and haven’t seen since” social situation. Those can be so terribly awkward.

“Oh right, sorry! I’m Vito!” he finally introduces himself, offering his hand for a shake.

“August!” he responds and shakes the hand with “Alexia!” following suit.

“So,” Alexia asks, looking past Vito “what’re all y’all doing here!? Mourning the fallen!?”

“Yes. Yes, that is exactly what we’re doing! Mourning! It’s all very solemn, you under-”

“I am dancing on that bitch’s grave!” a drunk “mourner” yells to Vito before moving on to other patrons of the bar.

…

“OK, so we’re really celebrating! If you had to interact with Officer Samantha on a daily basis, you’d be celebrating to!”

“We’ll take your word for it!” August says, smiling through the horror.

“So how's the investigation going!?” Alexia asks, both because she wants to know and to change the subject. She takes a seat at a nearby table and is quickly joined by the guys.

“I wish I could tell you, but I was involved in an event that ended with a dead officer so I'm under investigation now and nobody can share details with me! How are you two holding up!?”

“Fine, I guess.” Alexia tells him. “The whole thing is just… what’s the word!?”

“Surreal! Watching some guy with a sledgehammer just attack people like that!? Just doesn’t quite seem real!” August answers both Alexia and Vito, whom both respond with confused looks.

“That guy didn’t have a sledgehammer!” Vito tells him.

“Yeah”, Alexia continues “he had a samurai sword!”

“What!? No, he had an ax! The handle was bigger than the blade, remember!?” Vito tells her.

“I distinctly remember a katana! He was wearing a leather jacket, jeans, a motorcycle helmet, and he was using a sword!”

“No, he was wearing khakis, a trench coat, a mask, and he had an ax!”

“He was wielding a sledgehammer and was wearing a construction worker’s uniform! Guy had gloves, a hard hat, overalls, the whole getup!”

…

…

…

“Well that happens, right!?” August asks, more to break the stillness between than anything else. “Memory isn’t all that reliable, especially after traumatic situations! We all saw a dead cop, you probably saw her actually die, I thought that Alexia might die, isn’t this to be expected!?”

Vito considers this for a moment before saying “What do you remember!?”

“August tells them “I remember that there was- wait, can we go outside!? There’s a lot of noise in here and this seems like too important a conversation to have any misunderstandings over background noise!”

“Good call!” Alexia and Vito respond simultaneously, before enduring another round of “What did you say?”.

The three move to the parking lot, grouping around Vito’s car. “Here.” Vito tells them, handing August and Alexia pens and paper.

“Nobody say anything. Write down what you remember and we can compare notes without changing each other's recollection of the event.Write down every detail, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant.”

The three do so and then read each other’s accounts. Even ignoring the attacker, there are of course discrepancies. They disagree on details of the room, on the details of the EMT, the man, and the scared girl, and even the cop, Alexia getting her hair color wrong. They largely agree on the sequence of events and the general actions of the battle, however. That was, of course, their primary focus at the time.

Vito relaxes with a deep breath and tells them “Psychogenic amnesia, amnesia caused by traumatic experiences, didn’t do this. If it did, we wouldn’t remember the scene at all. The attack was less than 48 hours ago, so there shouldn’t be that much decay of the memory and even if there was, the rest of our accounts are pretty comparable. ”

“Does that necessarily mean that they’re true?” August posits.

“No, but they are sources independent of each other. I haven’t discussed the fight with either of you before now so my accounts haven’t tainted yours nor yours mine and Sanders is really good about collecting witness statements without affecting them. So… I have no idea what the fuck is happening.”

“I may sound like a dick saying this,” Alexia claims “but why should we care? We’re not investigating the case, the detective that’s investigating already knows all this; what’s the point of the conversation?”

“Officer Vito?” a determined, feminine voice in the background asks. The three turn around to see Willow Sirocco. “I need to talk to you.”

Sirocco’s Private Safe House, Somewhere In Lipot City, Exact Location Classified

Roughly One Hour Ago

“I don’t waiting for results, Mary. Where is he?” Sirocco demands over the phone. Sirocco had come to his bedroom for privacy, leaving his daughter at the dinner table so he could make some “Important business calls.”

“Please understand, sir, that we attempting to track down and capture a natural born hunter and guerrilla fighter. It is no simple task.”

“You held and studied that superpowered maniac for months and in all that time you didn’t uncover anything useful? You and your scientists can not possibly be that incompetent.”

“Sir, if I may, the research on the project was a dangerous and difficult affair. Little of his behavior and abilities could be studied in a safe, practical manner, even ignoring that this is a nigh-unheard of mutation. Nearly all theories on the mutation’s origin and any means of replication had to be built from the ground up by your researchers. The mutation’s full effects on his body and mind are still quite unknown.”

“I didn’t call asking for excuses, Mary. I called demanding results. I called wanting to hear that you captured the asset that attacked me and locked him back in his cage. I called wanting to hear that my investment in this asset has not been wasted by your incompetence. I called for my super-soldier-”

The door behind him squeaks as it is opened, and a voice says “Daddy? What’s going on?”

Seeing the look of horror on his daughter’s face, Sirocco takes a moment to regain his own composure. He hangs up without another word to Mary.

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m just-”

“You’re talking about the man that attacked. God, you held him in a cage? That’s why he’s doing this, isn’t it?”

“It’s not that simple, honey. That man is a monster, okay? He was very dangerous and killed a lot of people. I had him captured and held to keep him away from people.”

‘Don’t lie to me! You said that had him… had captured and studied!? What is wrong with you!?”

Sirocco steps toward his daughter, hoping to comfort her. “You don’t understand-”

Willow takes some quick step back. “Do not touch me. I’m calling the police and I’m telling them everything.” She quickly w

“Sigh. Tell them what? That I him captured and studied for his abilities and biology? Willow, they won’t believe you.”

Jacky's Pub, Now

“So I went to the police station and asked for you, the only cop that might believe me, and I was directed here. You believe me, don't you?” Willow asks Vito.”

How It Begins: Ch.2

St. Gygax Memorial Hospital

“That was fun.”

August, sitting by her hospital bed, turned to see Alexia, finally conscious and with a wide grin on her face. He lets out a chuckle and sigh of relief, telling her “Only you would call that fun.”

“How long was I out?”

“Close to an hour. How you feeling?”

“Like I just got my skull smashed in. What did the doc say?”

“Your skull is fractured, but there probably won’t be permanent neurological damage, but but you should see a neurologist just in case. Also said that you were damn tough and lucky to get off essentially scott free from something like that.”

“Well pro’ly not lucky but” Alexia weakly raised her hands and gestured to herself “we both know I’m the toughest bitch on the planet. How you doing?”

“I’ll live; just some bruised knuckles. Oh, and there’s a detective here that wants to talk to you, get your witness statement.”

“Pfft. Well, send him in the cop. Don't have anything better to… do…”

The carefree look of Alexia, which August had learned to be her default state, fades.

“Oh God, that cop.” Alexia continues. “That guy he- he just ripped her open. A fucking cop!”

August, who allowed his worry of his best friend to push thoughts of the cop out of his mind, does not have words of comfort. For his friend or himself.

“Yeah. Yeah, he uh- he did.”

Alexia lets a deep breath in and out, before saying “Okay, get the detective, August. Let’s see what we can do to help.”

In Another Room

“How are you holding up?” Jessica asks the young woman sitting by an unconscious middle-aged man’s hospital bed. The girl is reapplying make-up that was lost to tears earlier and quickly puts the compact away when she sees Jessica’s head poke through the open door.

“Fine. I’m holding up just fine.” Willow responds, too distressed to make the lie convincing. “Not to sound ungrateful, and believe me I am beyond grateful,” she continues “but what are you doing here? Isn’t your job done?”

Jessica shrugs. “I guess I just felt kinda guilty about the whole thing. I decided to fight that man instead of help and your daddy lost quite a lot of blood because of it. I just wanted to check on him. How is he?”

“The doctors are letting him rest. They told me he’ll be good as new in a few months. Whatever they’re paying you, it is not enough. Not enough to deal with crazy bastards with rapiers, anyway.”

Jessica decides to not correct her mistake of referring to what the EMT remembers to be a bat as a rapier. Seems like a bad time. “You’re right about that. I’m a volunteer, don’t get paid at all.”

“Wait, seriously? If you’re not getting paid for this than what are you doing it for?”

“Um… cause people need EMTs? What more reason do I need?”

Willow pauses for a moment, considering what Jessica just said.

“But you’re providing a valuable service to people. Don’t you deserve compensation for that? You’re giving up your time and putting your life on the line.”

Jessica shrugs again. “Maybe, but I’m happy as long as I know that people have better lives because of me.”

“Well here.” Willow tells her, getting up and reaching inside of her purse. She pulls out a roll of hundred mercuan bills. “Take this; it's the least I can do in return.”

“Well, I’m not going to refuse, but you don’t have to do this. You can just accept the free help.”

“No. You gave me your time and help and resources so I need to give you something in return. Look this much money is a drop in the bucket for me, okay? Just take it.”

Hesitantly, Jessica does so. “If you insist, but there is such a thing as altruism, you know.”


In Yet Another Room

“Knock knock.” Detective Sanders says as she enters Vito’s hospital room. Vito is currently getting his left shoulder stitched up, a task he insisted on going through with out pain meds. He’s slightly regretting it at the moment.

“Hey, Sands. You here to check up on me? Didn’t think you cared so much.” Vito told her, smiling through the pain.

“Actually I’m here to collect your statement. Boss man has decided to burden me with figuring out who decided to try and kill one of the mayor’s favorite people so I could really use it.”
“Man, sucks to be you right now. Okay, let me see. It was about 10:30 or so. Sam and I were sitting in the car and… talking.”

Sanders gives a knowing nod, all too familiar with conversations with Officer Samantha.

Vito continues. “Then this crowd, well mob of runs out of the mansion and this woman runs up to the car and starts screaming about some guy with an ax killing Sirocco. I run in and she sends the message over the radio. When I get in there, this man in a large trench coat is attacking Sirocco with an ax. I open fire, though I’m not sure if I hit him.”

Sanders suppresses any reaction of frustration to his statement. She had interviewed all of the others that fought the man and what they remember him wielding and wearing varied wildly. One said he was wearing a biker get up and a helmet, another said a construction worker’s uniform and hard hat. One person said he was wielding an honest-to-God sword and one said a sledgehammer. It is only natural to expect the statements to vary in details, human memory being the imperfect process that it is, but having such massive discrepancies between memories of people that fought the man was… strange.

“He turns and sees me, runs over and I keep firing, but I just can't hit him. He took a swing at me and missed and his ax got stuck in the floor. He pulls it out and Sam comes in just in time for him to take a swing at her and rip her guts out.


…


Which was absolutely terrible, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Then those other three people came in. I have no idea where from, but I’m certainly not complaining. They helped me fight him off, well, helped me survive long enough for backup to arrive. We fought him for… just a few seconds, really. Oh and the Sirocco girl was there but, surprisingly enough, was smart enough to stay in the hallway. The rest of cops showed up soon after and you know the rest.”

Back in Sirocco's Hospital Room

“Willow?” Mr. Sirocco says, pushing through the fog of his half-awakeness.

“Daddy!” Willow responds, more excited than she had been in a long time. She rushes over and hugs her father prompting-

“Ow! Ow!” he tells her, causing her to recoil quickly.
“Sorry! Sorry, I just-”

“It’s fine, honey. I’m happy to see you to. Especially after what just happened.”

Willow stands hugging the bed, making sure to not touch her father. “Who was that? Who attacked you?”

“I don’t know, but I intend to find out. Sweetheart, can you hand me my phone? I need to make a call and make sure the company is all right.”

“Uh, yeah yeah, sure. Here-” she grabbed his phone from a table on the other side of the room “-you go.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. Also, can you fetch the doctor, please? Let him know that I’ll be moving to Dr. Elliot’s care.”

“Yes, of course.” She said, turning and walking to the door before turning back and saying “I’m really glad that you’re okay.”

“And I’m really glad that you’re okay, Willow.”

With that, she heads off and Mr. Sirocco makes his phone call.

Sirocco Industries R&D Office

As Mary finishes an email composed of mostly beration of one of her underlings for his incompetence, a terrible feeling of darkness envelopes her. Just as she begins to wonder where this feeling comes from, she gets her answer. Her phone rings and without even looking at it, she knows, deep in her soul, that it’s her boss calling to berate her for her incompetence. She takes a deep breath and answers the call that she has been dreading for the past few hours.

“Good evening, Mr. Sirocco.”

“Mary. Explain.”

“Roughly three hours ago, the subject of Project: Juggernaut escaped his holding facility, killing the entire present staff on his way out, and taking back his old uniform and weapon. Next thing we know, he’s attacking your charity ball.”

“Where is he?”

“We’re looking for him.”

“How the hell did this happen? Why didn’t I know about it earlier?” her boss demands to know, pushing as much anger into his words a possible without raising his voice.

“As I said, he killed the entire staff on shift. He cut power and communications and then made sure no one left to to tell what had happened. There was simply no one alive to tell us.”

“Fix this, Mary. Or it’s- thank you, Mary. I’m glad to see that everything is running smoothly.”

Back in Sirocco’s Hospital Room

Willow brings the doctor in just as her father finishes talking with some highly placed employee. He hangs up just in time to hear the doctor’s protests.

“Mr. Sirocco, I must insist you stay under our care. The police will be far more capable of protecting you here.” the doctor.

“I appreciate your intentions, Dr…. Maxwell,” Sirocco responded, eyeing the physician’s ID tag “but I have my own private physician and security detail. Should this man strike again, I can’t very well make the staff and especially the patients pay the price of my misfortune. No, my daughter and I will be moving to a private safe house.”

“While that is noble-”

“Don’t bother, Dr. Maxwell. My mind is already made up on the matter. As soon as I can reclaim my effects, my daughter and I will be out of you hair.”

How It Begins: Ch.1

Somewhere in Lipot City, exact location classified

“PLEASE! PLEASE, GOD NO!!!” These are the final words of a scientist before two hands of uncanny strength wrap around his skull and squeeze before tossing the fresh carcass aside. Several small fires illuminate the facility against the black of night as the figure the hands belong to marches out of the building, leaving a trail of bodies behind it, and towards its true target.

Some Background Character's Apartment, Lipot City

The smells of alcohol and pot saturate the air. The apartment’s floorboards creak under a young woman’s steps, not that she can hear them over the music and the loud and laughing party goers. She is fairly short asian girl with braided hair and a toned and athletic build. She’s clad in a simple black crop top, a short skirt, and a pair of boots with a recently emptied bottle at her feet and another half-full one in hand as she dances with a cute redheaded guy she’d never met before.

The man closes in on the girl, yelling over the music “Hey, it’s Alexia right? What do you say we get outta here and we can have some real fun back at my place?” He stretches his arm over the girl’s shoulders and attempts to bring her in closer.

“Fucking no!” she yells back, quickly removing the ginger’s arm.

“Hey, what’s going on?” another man, the Alexia’s roommate, interjects as he walks up, trying to help Alexia out of the situation. He is a tall and impressive white stack of muscle wearing a Superman shirt, a simple pair of jeans, and some sneakers.

“Nothing, August. Ginger here was just being a creep.” she responds, turning around to walk away and hopefully never see him again.

“Come on, sweetheart.” The redheaded man says, grabbing her ass. “I promise I’ll-”

Alexia is abnormally strong for her short stature. The man discovers this fact as her fist launches into his gut, forcing him to curl over in pain.

“Try that again.” Alexia states.

“Bitch!” the stranger yells, grabbing a bottle on the floor, standing up, and taking a swing at Alexia.

The girl swiftly dodges out of the way before August takes up a boxer’s stance and delivers a one-two punch, clocking the man across the jaw and torquing his body into each blow. Finally, Alexia kicks the pervert in the balls.

“Okay! Okay! I get it!” the man desperately screams out as he curls over in pain. He strains to get up and walks away, rubbing his jaw.

August saves face until the man leaves, and then makes his own pain clear. “Ow.” he says, rubbing his knuckles.

“Well fucking duh. What the hell did you think would happen when punched his head?” Alexia asks, amused by what just happened.

“It was muscle memory, all right? I’m used to fighting with gloves on.”

“You didn’t need to do that at all, really. I had that bastard.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next ti-”

“Hey,” a voice from the crowd shouts “Crop Top and Superman! You two gotta get outta here!”

The pair turn to see a woman they both recognized as the landlady yelling at them with the ginger standing at her side.

“The hell did we do?” Alexia incredulously yells out.

“You beat up my little brother, that’s what!”

“Cause the little pervert decided to get handsy!”

“That ain’t what he said. I don’t care where you go, just don’t be here!”

August steps in. “Come on Alex, let’s just go.”

“Goddamn it,” she said “And I was starting to have fun!”

Alexia finishes her drink and walks out with her friend, flipping off the the siblings.

Our Lady of Angels Church Soup Kitchen

Jessica loves coming to volunteer at the soup kitchen, just outside of the church. The place always smells of soup, reminding her of her grandmother’s home, and the other volunteers are always good for conversation. She is clad in a cheap apron, a hairnet, and a cross around her neck while her hand is wrapped around the handle of a large spoon, handing out servings of soup to the line in front of her as she talks to a man beside her doing the same.

“So how's the new job?” the man asks.

“My boss is going to be beyond lucky if I don't stab the bastard before the month is over.” Jessica responded as soup poured into a bowl.

“Is he really that bad? I would expect a veterinarian to be like super empathetic and caring.”

“I think I know why he works with animals. Apparently I'm ‘remarkably smart and dedicated-’”

“Well that sounds nice.”

“‘-for a black girl.’”

“Oh. How much longer are you stuck with him?”

“Until I complete the necessary hours under the supervision of a vet to get my license. It's going to be a long 400 hours.”

“How the hell are you gonna deal with that? I know I couldn't.”

“I have a full-contact escrima class four days a week. Helps me vent.”

“Esc-what now?”

“It's a martial art.”

“Ah. So-”

The sound of radio static sounded from police band radio on Jessica’s belt. And then…

“We have a possible 10-43-I at the Sirocco Estate! I repeat: a possible 10-43-I at the Sirocco Estate!”

10-43-I: Assailant with a deadly weapon, officers in pursuit.

Jessica, a volunteer EMT, immediately drops her spoon into the soup and runs out the door to her car, discarding her hairnet and apron along the way. The woman she was supposed to serve next grabs the spoon and pour herself some soup.

Sirocco Annual Charity Ball For the Poor and Distressed, Sirocco Family Ballroom, Lipot City  

Dressed in tuxedos and gowns that cost more than either you or I will make in our lifetimes, the Old Money of Lipot City pursue the wasteful extravagance that their economic station allows. The attendees drop large, but insignificant to them, sums of cash into a transparent glass box for a charity that, to be frank, half of them probably aren’t even sure of the nature of. The press get a pretty photo of the cash box for a puff piece, the attending politicians and businessmen get positive public opinion, and everyone is happy. Standing by the horderves are one Willow Sirocco, her father, and Lisa Jackson.

“It’s beautiful as always.” Lisa, an elderly black woman in a purple gown, tells her host.

“Thank you, Lisa. I just hope that we can continue to do this in the future.” the old Mr. Sirocco responds. A pudgy man of hispanic descent, Mr. Sirocco is well known around Lipot city for his extravagant spending on is daughter, conservative politics, and glorious mustache. “The Environmental Technology Act is still making headway in Parliament, you know. I don’t like to think about how expensive that will be for us.”

“Oh believe me, I know. These damn eco-lobbyists never stop to think about how this crap effects hard-working Cambellians like us and they’re too blinded by their own ideology to see the world as it really is.” Lisa complains as he takes a drink from a servant’s silver platter.

“They really don’t appreciate us do they?” Willow rhetorically asks the others. The young lady is clad in an elegant white gown with gold trims that is almost as beautiful as the woman herself. Aside from her model-like frame, expertly applied make-up accents her naturally striking features.

“Well, enough negativity. Willow, your father tells me that you’ve taken up swordplay.” Lisa said, happy to change the subject.

“Yes, I have. I’ve been meeting with a private instructor five days a week and I’m grown quite skilled at it.” Willow responds, choosing not to bring up that she and Lisa have had this conversation twice before and that the fencing lessons have been happening for the better part of a year.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen her pursue something so passionately.” Mr. Sirocco says.

“It’s a good day when-” Lisa doesn’t get to finish her sentence.

On the other end of the ballroom, two large doors fly open and slam into the walls they’re attached to. A large man in a torn, bloody, and dirty firefighter’s uniform and wielding an ax marches through. Despite bustling with music and laughter a mere moment ago, the ballroom is dead silent. The strange man scans the room until he sees…

“SIROCCO!” he screams, charging after the old man.

Just Outside of the Sirocco Estate

“Now I'm not judging or anything, but if you ask me a girl shouldn't dress like a slut if she doesn't want to get treated like a slut.” Samantha tells her partner as the two sit inside their patrol car. The woman and her partner, a handsome asian man with a runner’s build, had been ordered to watch over the Sirocco’s ball. So he gets to enjoy Samantha’s delightful conversation and make sure to request a different partner when the night was over.

“Somehow me giving advice to my sister on how to dress like a lady make me the bad guy. If that wasn’t bad enough she has this boyfriend that I have still not seen a green card from. Hopefully she doesn’t come crying to me when she winds up kidnapped and sold as a sex slave in primitive, backwater, savage excuse of a country.

You probably know what that’s like. You got any family from the East Lands that don’t know how to act civilized like the rest of us? Of course, not you Vito. Despite how most of your kind can be, I was pleasantly surprised at how-”

“Oh dear God, shut up!” Vito interrupts.

“What!? What did I- Oh. Another thin-skinned-”

“AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

Dozens of screaming party goers run out of the mansion, their thunderous stampede the only thing louder than the panicked screeches. A man runs up to Samantha’s window, terror radiating off of him.

“Help! There's some guy in there with an ax! He's gonna kill Sirocco!”

The thread is dropped and the pair revert to their training with Vito running into the ballroom, trusting Samantha to inform the rest of the force of the situation over the radio and quickly follow behind. He puts some heavy duty earplugs in and draws his sidearm.

He rushes through the building, screaming “LCPD!” as he goes through the ballroom doors. As soon as he enters he sees bizarre man in a tattered, dirty, bloody firefighter’s uniform, complete with gloves, boots, a hat, and a gas mask. Oh, and a bloodstained ax embedded in Mr. Sirocco’s leg. This bizarre man rips the ax out and raises it for another blow. Vito wastes no time issuing a warning and quickly fires upon the man.

Sounding like firecrackers, the gun sends two rounds rocketing towards the figure. One misses, the other impacts into his back and the man turns, locking eyes with Vito. The figure charges Vito, who continues to fire into this being that would not die.

Once he is in chopping range, the being sends his ax flying down to Vito, who barely dodges enough to get a thin scratch on his calf from the weapon. The ax is embedded in the floorboards, giving Vito time to get some desperately needed distance.

“Vito! Are you o- Holy shit!” Samantha yells as she runs into the room, weapon drawn. She sees the hulking brute before her rip his weapon from the floor.

“Sam! Get back!” Vito screams at his partner, too late.

The being takes a powerful swing at Officer Samantha, ripping her gut open and letting intestines and blood spill out.

Outside

“Did you hear that?” Alice asks her friend as they walk home. The roommates are cutting through what Alexis enjoyed calling “Rich Town” on their way home.

“Hear what?” August asks.

“AAHHHHH!” dozens of screams pierced the air, coming from what everyone knew to be the Sirocco estate.

“Okay,” August says “that I heard.”

He dashes towards it with Alexia following as close as she could, though they both know that he easily outpaces her.

They run up to see a lone cop run out of her cruiser and into the building. As Alexia catches up to her opposite number, the two of them trade unsure and concerned looks that say “Should we…?”.

After a moment, August breaks the stillness and the two rush in. They do not have the time to appreciate the beyond magnificent architecture and art that dotted the walls of the mansion, nor can they stop to take in the sheer grandness of the ballroom when they step in. Their attention is consumed by the bloody, pained cop on the floor and her violently removed internal organs lain before her. Their attention is consumed by the bizarre man wielding a bloodstained ax who is clearly responsible. Their attention is consumed by the other cop in the room, who has resumed his attempts to fill the strange man with holes.

Vito fires a few more rounds into the man before running dry. In some ways, Alexia and August are glad, both highly valuing their hearing. The bizarre man turns to face Vito once more, raising his weapon and bringing it down, though thankfully missing by a country mile. August summons the fighter in him, sending two fists flying into the man’s back. Pain shoots through the martial artist’s limbs as though they had just struck a brick wall. As August wonders if he actually did anything meaningful to the giant of a man, said man turns a fist toward August’s face. He hits the fighter’s shoulder as August rolls with the blow.

Though not quite the trained combatant that August is, Alexia does what she can as she sends a punch into the man’s gut. He raises his ax to strike the girl down.

Outside

Jessica is thankful that the Sirocco’s mansion is just a few blocks away from the Our Lady of Angels church. She sees a crowd of the rich and powerful standing outside the mansion, all to afraid and unfamiliar with the present events to know what to do outside of talk about what is happening and engage in wild speculation. The ambient, fearful discussion grinds to a halt as Jessica pulls up to the crowd and all eyes lock onto her. She runs out of her car, medical bag in hand and knife recently sheathed on her belt.

“It’s okay, I’m an EMT. Is anybody hurt?” she told the crowd, doing her best to sound authoritative and reassuring.

The crowd stands in silence for a moment before a gorgeous young woman ran out of it to Jessica. Her white and gold dress has small amounts of blood splattered across it and her mascara has fallen to tears. She grabs onto Jessica and pulls her to the house, all the while screaming “Please help! My daddy is in there and that… person attacked him! Please save him!” With that statement, Jessica runs full speed ahead, the girl still outpacing her as they head into the mansion.

As they approach the ballroom, Jessica sees the full details of the situation: a man in firefighter’s garb wielding an ax is in combat with three people, one of whom is a cop. Another cop is very dead, her intestines and a lot of blood strewn out next to her corpse. On the ballroom’s far side, a man lies on the floor, paralyzed in pain as blood flows out of his leg.

“Stay back!” Jessica orders the girl, though the stranger seems so terrified to enter the room that it may have been redundant. Jessica forces herself to step past the brutally murdered cop, but then, out of the corner of her eye, sees the firefighter raise his ax to strike down the girl fighting him. In a split-second decision, Jessica grabs onto the ax as it is raised in the air and twists the firefighter’s arm, disarming him with a joint lock. With his tremendous strength, the man rips free of the hold, launching the EMT back a few feet. Alexia picks up the fallen ax and takes a swing at the man. He blocks the ax and it is imbedded in his left forearm. Alex punches him in the throat, stunning him for just a moment. The man decides that he has had enough of these annoyances and punches Alexia across the jaw, sending her head flying into the floorboards.

“Alex!” August yells out. He dashes over to her, picking her unconscious body up and dragging her away from the fight. Vito tries to tackle the man, but is about as effective as a determined chihuahua. The firefighter reaches over his shoulder and pulls Vito over, only for Jessica, back up and in the fight, to stab him in the side of the neck. The man hits her across the face with the butt of his ax’s handle, breaking her nose, and swings at Vito, who used the man’s moment of distraction to twist himself free. The man hit Vito enough to make a large cut into the cop’s shoulder as tried to get some distance. Just before the man turns to finish Jessica, he hears sirens.

The man does not hesitate to flee, knowing that he cannot stand up to whatever force would come to protect the rich and powerful, and runs out of the room. None are in any condition to follow and fight him.