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Aoiroo

Shadows In The Night (IC)

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The show had run late, well actually the show ran it's expected lengh especially since it was the third showing, the after party ran late. Carrie was the designated sober person at said party, mostly because after the whole mess of they went through just to get started that night she was the only person who wanted to remember after party. After calling cabs, collecting keys to park some cars in a garage for the night, and walking the assistant director back to her loft so she could crash in the comfort of her own bed, she herself was feeling the dreer of sleep set upon her steadily as she passed quietly from the theatre district over to the Fens.

It was about three blocks in that she noticed the eyes on the back of her head. Not turning her head, she continued along, dreary but not unaware of person who was matching her steps. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a set of keys with a octagon keychain attached that she fiddled with a bit. Letting it dangle, the front was red like a stop sign, the other was silver and reflective and gave her a glimpse of the man behind her. Long sleeved jacket, dark pants, she couldn't make out a face, but she saw his hand go into the front of the jacket, he was probably reaching for a weapon. Grabbing a key off the top of the chain she held it up as she turned into an alley without looking back.

The way she had walked was sort dizzy, she took a while with the keys so she was probably drunk. She was short, and didn't seem the type to fight back plus she didn't even notice him as she turned down the alley. It would be easy, just a cut or two and she'd probably forget all about her purse, maybe he could grab some jewellery too. Smiling, he finally took the knife out from his coat, it was a well sharpened, well kept combat blade he grabbed from the flee market and it shoned quietly in the moonlight as he stalked into the alley. While he put on his best face, he looked to find that his target was no where to be found. Except for a dumpster and a dead end, nothing, walking forward, knife at the ready he continued down. Maybe she was hiding, or there was a door somewhere he couldn't see. As he continued though this proved to not be the case, as he got to the end he put his hand on the wall and started to curse to himself as he looked down at the reflection of the moonlight in the knife once more. Or he did, until the reflection went dark as it was overtaken by a shadowy Silhouette, and then something hit him and everything else went dark as well.

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In the shadows atop one of the taller buildings in the fens, red lenses narrowed as the brunette woman wandered clumsily into the alleyway, the man following several paces behind her pulled a blade from is jacket, gleaming obviously to the hidden observer. In a burst of sudden movement, a piece of the shadows peeled away from the darkness, silently streaking across the empty street to the run down business overlooking the gap the pair below had slipped into. Another leap brought the stealthy figure down into the alleyway, landing in an easy crouch before drawing up to easily over six feet of coiled muscle clothed in matte black. A quick inspection of the scene revealed the unconscious mugger lying in a heap on the cold ground and brought a pair of sticks the length of the figure's forearms to its hands with a graceful snap.

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It was hard to see from there, given, directly behind the dumpster so it was hard to see anything. However, she heard everything just fine, there was a loud thump. Was someone else there? He probably didn't see her, probably, she was in shadow, and relatively dark clothing (a purple top and some black track pants), maybe she could take him out before he saw her, call the police like she usually did and be on her way. Leaning down, she picked up the good lengh of pipe her flat finger grasping it quietly as she brought it up in the darkness. Stalking out slowly, she stayed flat, though this made it hard to really see exactly who it was, he was definitely tall, and seemed to have a more forboding presense then the earlier mugger. Ohh well she had done forboding before. Walking forward, she brought the pipe up and at the last second regained her form once more as she brought it down over his head.

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The pipe came down out of nowhere, striking Midnight solidly about the temple. Hour upon hour of condition combined with carefully woven protective gear let him shrug off the blow with a grunt, made raspy as it grated through his mask's air filter. Careless. Cracking his neck slowly, his back towered menacingly over his diminutive attacker until he whirled without warning, striking out with a body blow meant to knock the wind out of the third party in the alleyway. Control situation, he thought silently to himself, end quickly.

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Her own attack having no effect she saw the retailation coming and realized quickly she wasn't going to be able to get out of the way complete. Turning sideways with her hands in front she took the hit on her a bit of her side just a bit above the kidney and a little bit on her lower arm. It stung like heck, but she stayed on her feet as she backed up a few paces and finally got a good look at her potiential assualter, except, he wasn't a mugger. Ohh, he was definitely not a mugger, the black figure before her, red eyes, and that really nice hat only meant one thing. She really needed to get her purse. Darting away from him and onto the other side of the dumpster she grabbed her bag and dug in for a few seconds before grabbing what she wanted and reappearing from it side. He was coming forward, the same look on his face, but she didn't look back or fear, instead she had a new determination on her face as she held up her object desired to reveal a bright orange notepad,

"Can I have your autograph?"

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Even through the featureless void that took the place of his face, Midnight's expression conveyed incredulity. A whirl of movement brought his escrima sticks back into the sheathes in his boots, and the black clad vigilante folded his arms, looking down on the considerably smaller woman and her notepad. "You hit me," he grated out in the cold echoing rasp created by his mask's air filter, "in the neck, with a pipe."

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She didn't even need a second to respond,

"Well, you appeared suddenly, in a dark alley, in the middle of the night, in the Fens, right after someone attempted to mug me. Plus I was behind the dumpster, so I couldn't really see you until you sort of retailated. By the way, that was a nice move. I'm glad I blocked or else I might of been out like Mister Mugger over there."

Pointing her pen over at the body of the still unconcious form of the mugger, she looked down over at the pipe,

"But yeah, sorry about attacking you, fight or flight instinct coupled with extenuating circumstances, anyway, you didn't anwser my question."

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Staring down at the nonchalant woman for another beat, Midnight turned and stalked silently out of the alleyway, thumbing a button on his belt as he went. On one hand, he could hardly fault the short woman for being capable of defending herself; all things considered, it was just as well, and he was more than a little impressed that she'd managed to catch him unawares at all. On the other, he wasn't about to give out samples of his hand writing. "Police should be on their way," he told her without turning around, as a matte black motorcycle slid into view at the end of the gap between the buildings, unnerving silent and riderless. "In the future? Try not to walk alone 'in a dark alley, in the middle of the night, in the Fens'."

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She followed in a couple of quick strides keeping on his with her notepad at her side, she looked at her watch quietly,

"No, the police usually take their time getting here, I've averaged a good twenty minutes for pick up. They generally don't like being seen in the area, plus considering they usually pass either a prostitute or a drug dealer on the way here they tend to get held up."

This wasn't something she was saying based on her own assumption, because she did actually ask a police officer when he drove her home one time. He in returned gave her a minor interrogation about his son whom she had met earlier that night under unusual conditions much like these actually.

"Anyway, I can't promise that this won't happen in the future, because I sort of live here. Though I usually try to get around the area before sunset, though now the days are getting shorter so it'll be near impossible soon."

Skimming to see what he was waiting for, she caught site of the cycle,

"Nice bike, custom job? Must be, cause it looks like it's older then I am but no way is a old school chopper that quiet, or has autopilot now that I think about it. What happens when you leave that behind and someone tries to steal it?"

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Squeezing his eyes shut irritably, Midnight resisted the urge to snap back. The same thing that happens to someone who won't. Stop. Talking. Leveraging his stoic silence to take a few moments to center himself, he replied. "Signaled them," he elaborated. The automatic line he'd set up with the FCPD routing system was nominally anonymous, but after a few calls to pick up piles of unconscious drug dealers and mobsters, the uniformed officers had adopted an unofficial policy of taking it seriously. "They'll be here." Mounting the Night Cycle in one smooth moment, he looked back over to the talkative woman. Suspecting he was going to regret it, he offered, "Get on. Give you a ride home."

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Looking down the alley at the mugger, Carrie was tempted to reach for her duct tape to bind him before she left, but she decided against it when he assured her that they were in fact on there way. Unlike a random woman from the Fens, they were probably more prepared to answer an established heroes calls. Getting a closer look at the bike, she admired the detail and design all set in the dark metal and curves, in fact she was so enticed from the design she almost missed it when he spoke again,

"Huh,"

Looking up from the bike to him, she glanced at it before rewinding and processing what it was that he said. After a few moments she sort of stood there, on the outside it looked like nothing, on the inside she was screaming praises to how lucky she was and how cool this was. However, for many reasons including years of self disipline about the fact that she was living in a city with heroes and several years of convincing herself they were in fact just normal people helped her to not let this show in her voice as she said,

"Thanks."

Walking over to the bike, she stopped for a second before remembering something. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out the small box that she opened and slipped some ginger pills into her palm. Dry swallowing them and waiting for a moment she let out a breath before finally getting onto the bike. This was probably one of the coolest things she had ever ridden and she was not going to ruin the whole thing by getting motion sickness. She waited on the bike for a second before she remembered that she hadn't told him anything about where they were going,

"I live just a little west from here near 70th street. If you go left after about five blocks it should come up on the right."

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Grunting shortly in affirmation, Midnight started off in the indicated direction, the Night Cycle's whisper quiet engine making the acceleration seem more sudden than it actually was. With a passenger of questionable resilience, the daredevil driver stuck to the speed limit for once, maintaining a stony silence until they pulled up to address he'd been given. Remaining seated with one foot on the curb to steady the motorcycle, he half turned to look over his shoulder, waiting.

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Well it was rather, short and quiet. Given, she really sort of figured it was most the most could expect, it was after all just a ride home. They were just going a reasonable speed in a bad neighborhood, to her rather small appartment, and the reality of it seemed to hit home. But still, she had still ridden with Midnight on a really cool bike so it counted for something.

As it slowed to a stop she climbed off slowly as not to fall because dispite the pills and reasonable driving, some slight sickness was setting in as she switched from bike to solid ground. Taking a few steps back she gave him another once over in the light of the streetlight right in front of her appartment complex, and something seemed off. She didn't let the thought bother her for more then a few seconds before saying,

"Thanks for the ride."

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The black clad rider grunted again, adding, "Welcome. Try to stay out of trouble." His tone wasn't accusatory or pedantic, largely by virtue of a complete lack of emotional inflection in it's hollow echo. Even in the light of the street lamp, the matte finish of his costume and motorcycle made him a shadowy, indistinct figure, a wraith intense enough to frighten away other dangers. Waiting and watching until the petite woman had entered the apartment complex and closed the door behind her, Midnight pushed off from the curb and opened up the Night Cycle's engines, speeding off into the darkness of the night.

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