#I wanted to write a Haymaker inspired battle

[snaggerleo]

"Do you like the Pokémon trading card game?"

Leo looked up from his squatting position, brows furrowed while he tried to determine if the question was some kind of trick. Then again, he had been squatting in front of a modest display of trading cards in a Poké Mart. It was a normal supply stock-up when a couple of cards, Espeon and Umbreon inside a blister pack, had caught his eye. The guy bothering him looked somewhere in his late teens, in a long-sleeved red shirt, sleeves rolled up. Fingerless gloves and a red bandana. The long-sleeve was open to show off a short-sleeved shirt underneath it. Typical trainer fashion, comfortable layers for walking around in.

“I don’t play.” Leo dismissed his comments and turned back to the cards briefly, before leaning on his knees to stand up straight again. “Doesn’t seem like there’s much point when you could just be training Pokémon.”

The stranger laughed and shrugged that off. “That’s like asking why play chess when you could just become a knight and corner a queen.”

“Not the worst career path I’ve heard.”

That earned a chuckle. “Step outside, let’s have a friendly. If you lose, I’ll buy you those cards and teach you the basics of the game.”

That got a suspicious eye from Leo, who didn’t trust free things, but still liked them. And he wasn’t one to turn a battle down anyway. Even if he wasn’t one for card games, there were worse ways to waste time. “If I win, you can buy me a hot dog instead.” It was cheaper than the cards and would benefit him more, so it felt like a fair exchange.

The stranger laughed again. “Name’s Mark. Let’s make it a good one!”

The parking lot was spacious enough for a battle, as long as they didn’t get too over the top. Signs posted around warned against the use of Fire-type attacks, and any Pokemon with external flames were similarly banned from the premises. Mark took a well-worn, downright old-fashioned looking Pokéball from his pocket and let it loose - a Hitmonchan breaking out of the ray of light and jabbing the air a few times before beginning to bounce on his toes. Leo had to admit he was right; the relatively tight quarters were ideal for close attackers. He tossed a Great Ball, and a Hariyama touched down with a heavy thud. Palm on the ground, eyes forward, greeting its opponent properly.

Hotel brought himself to a standing position, hands out defensively, and there was a few seconds of tension while the two Pokémon both waited for their opponent to make the first move. “Comet Punch!” Hitmonchan broke the tension by rushing in, quick boxer’s feet closing the distance while his arms kept up a guard. Once close enough, his fits jabbed out, again and again, slamming into Hariyama’s palms while trying to feel out an opening. Hotel’s defense was solid, but the Hitmonchan’s attacks hurt, and he couldn’t keep guarding with his hands if he wanted to hit anything with them. Or touch things for the next several hours.

Blam. Blam. Blam. Blam. The punches rang out, leather on tough skin, and Hotel was actually forced back from the raw strength. “Push ‘em back!” Leo shouted, and Hotel went on an offensive of his own - those heavy hands slamming forward, cutting the momentum of Hitmonchan’s fists short before slamming into his body. Two, three times, before Hitmonchan was willing to give up ground to avoid the attacks.

“Out of his range, out of his range!” Mark shouted, throwing his arms to his right side to guide Hitmonchan into strafing. Hotel had short arms, his attacks could only reach as far as his hands could. Dodging quickly, Hitmonchan was able to land a heavy blow against Hotel’s side, but his body was strong. The benefit of sumo. Hitmonchan kept piling on hard hooks, and Hotel seemed barely fazed, able to wrap hands around him and straight up lift Hitmonchan off the ground and deliver a good toss against a nearby chain link fence.

Hotel didn’t need to be told to follow up. He leaned down and rushed forward, slamming the ball of his palm against Hitmonchan’s body, threatening to force him through the metal fence - bending it backwards, a hair’s breadth from tearing. Desperate, the Hitmonchan threw its head forward, connecting a headbutt against his opponent and leaving him dizzy so he had the room to counter.

Headbutts were technically illegal in boxing, but his opponent wasn’t a boxer, so you did what you could.

Hotel stepped backward, flinching while the world spun around him. Hitmonchan got his feet under him, slid forward, and pounded a hook against the side of Hariyama’s ear. Sound went away after that, just a loud ringing that became the soundtrack to a dizzy world. One more hard straight into Hotel’s forehead sent him reeling backward, a heavy blow to the top of a bottom-heavy Pokémon sending him reeling backward like a bop clown. Hotel hit the ground with another impressive thud, falling onto his back and needing a minute to recover.

This forced an appreciative whistle out of Leo. “Not bad, not bad one bit. You don’t see a lot of high power Hitmonchan.”

“I only have a few Pokémon that I’ve been training hard for a long time now! Their cards were big time in the card game back in the day!”

Leo pursed his lips. That was probably a good clue to the rest of his team make-up, but he didn’t know dick diddly about card games. Time to go for what worked in normal battles. A flash of light, and Leo’s Espeon touched down, looking poised, watching Hitmonchan like a hawk - spry limbs ready to jump out of the way if his opponent made a move.

Mark wasn’t biting though. Hitmonchan returned to its ball, and a Scyther came out. Echo didn’t waste the opportunity to get in a free hit, a cannonball of kinetic energy, almost invisible if not for the warped light, slammed against the Scyther. It reeled backward, body not strong enough for heavy Psychic attacks, but wasn’t down yet. A problem. Scyther’s wings kicked up dust, filling the air with noise almost like a chopper. The distance between it and Echo was closed almost instantly, with sharp blades spinning and whirling around or thrusting forward to try and control the Espeon’s positioning. Faster than even that Hitmonchan. Leo’s eyes narrowed while he watched, commanding Echo through a defense. Were all of his Pokemon trained like boxers? Interesting technique. Most people would assume Scyther would benefit from sword training, but it can’t hold a sword like something with wrists. Haymakers were the way to go.

If Echo could get in just one more hit, this Scyther would be toast, but he needed space to form up his attacks, and the pressure wasn’t stopping. Leo thought about a pun involving its special Swarm ability being utilized well as a boxer, and immediately wanted to die for having thought it. Echo had to get out. This rushdown style was his exact weakness, and part of why he relied on a teammate in doubles.

The Espeon vanished mid-attack, and his Hitmontop spun into place, kicking the Scyther’s blades away before landing more rapid kicks into his chest. Scyther was actually forced out, but Hitmontop didn’t lose momentum, spinning right into him to keep forcing his attacks out - a powerful defense and offense all in one. Scyther resisted the attacks well, but his stamina couldn’t beat the fresh Hitmontop’s. Hitmontop handsprung off the ground, slamming his entire body into Scyther’s chest once he was open enough, sending the insect to the ground.

Scyther vanished into light and was immediately replaced. There was very suddenly an electrified fist slamming against Hitmontop’s body, not caring at all about either his offense or defense, just one powerful blow that sent Hitmontop reeling across the ground. Electricity crackled around his body while Hitmontop slowed in his spin. “Damn, damn damn...” Leo muttered under his breath. Hitmontop was an outboxer. Scyther was a swarmer. That made this Electabuzz a slugger, who didn’t care at all about balanced fighters. Your defense had to be impeccable or you were going to hurt.

“Get in there!” Hitmontop had to keep up the pressure. He raced forward again, picking up more spinning momentum to add force to his attacks, hard kicks hammering the Electabuzz one after another. Being that close was to Electabuzz’ favor, though. The side of his electric fist powered into Hitmontop’s body - kicks nailing his forearm to bruise it, but not enough to stop the attack, another thunderous haymaker sending him hurdling away. More crackling electricity. The static wasn’t letting Hitmontop perform at his best.

And then Electabuzz did something he’d forgotten Mark’s Pokemon would even be capable of; he gathered electricity in his palm and threw it, a thunderbolt slamming into Hitmontop at range, just one more tool to punish his opponents for not getting in where he needed them to be. Hitmontop was fried. Leo returned him; all he had left was this Espeon.

But Echo had an advantage now. “Set up the offense!” Echo’s eyes flashed, and Electabuzz fired off another Thunderbolt. Not a big deal. Echo had more training than Hitmontop, and could take ranged hits better. He was built to. “Fire!” Another Psychic cannonball slammed into the Electabuzz while he tried closing the gap himself, and he went down.

Scyther immediately tagged in, and went on the usual rush, not wanting to give Espeon time to fire off an attack. But Electabuzz already had. Before Scyther could get close enough to swing, more kinetic energy appeared from nowhere, slamming Scyther into the ground, enough damage to finish the battle. Future Sight saves the day again.

“Whew!” Mark sighed out while wiping his forehead. “Can’t be mad about a battle like that! You beat our tactics! Boxing has its flaws, but it’s worked for us alright so far. You’re a great trainer. No wonder somebody like you doesn’t need outside hobbies.”

“You’re talking too much.” Leo cut him off while kneeling down beside Espeon, treating his partner’s wounds with some fresh berries from a pouch in his coat. Echo slowly ate, getting enough stamina back for proper treatment later. “You’re a good trainer too. Focusing on fewer Pokemon doesn’t make you less talented. Recognizing your limits is an important skill.”

“Guess I owe you lunch, huh?” Mark returned his Scyther and stepped over to offer Leo a handshake.

“Looks like it. But I think I’ll get those cards anyway, and you can teach me how they work while we eat.” He put on a playful smirk and accept that handshake, before they walked back into the convenience store together.

And were promptly kicked out for battling in the parking lot and wrecking the owner’s fence.

[redscrud-blog]

The rabbit gets a little bill

It was a bright and clear night. The moon shone across the sea, paving a path to the port. On top of one of the many, now abandoned, warehouses stood a female figure. Her getup, consisting of a red tank-top, blue shorts, yellow running shoes and a tightly strapped green backpack, would suggest to any onlooker that she might just be a regular late night jogger with a strange preference for places to take a break. The only elements that broke that façade were the wraps covering her arms, small blades reflecting the moonlight in between the fabric, and a rabbit mask covering her head. Crouching down on the edge of a roof, she waited for a rendezvous of local small time criminals. She had been tracking them down for the past week until she could pin something on them. Tonight they would receive some sort of a weapon shipment from a far off eastern country and she was ready to stop them in their tracks.

Around two forty-five a black van drove to warehouse 35. Four men exited the vehicle and entered the building. The girl stood up, took a running start towards the neighboring warehouse, jumping from the edge of the roof. She landed safely on the other side, rolling at the first point of impact, and peeked down from one side. Among the many broken windows, there was one without any glass. She suspended herself from the roof just above it and let herself fall, latching onto the sill below. She pulled herself up and peeked inside.

There was a walkway. Rusty old chains hung from the ceiling, from the days when the warehouse saw greater use. At the bottom stood the four men from earlier with three new ones, most likely the dealers. The girl cautiously dropped onto the walkway and dashed towards a nearby ladder. Being careful not to make any sounds, she climbed down. Unfortunately, as she was about half way down, she felt the creaking. It had been many years since the ladder had seen use and under the weight of the crime-fighter, it broke off. She launched herself off the reeling contraption at the last second. Landing with a roll, she immediately sprung back on

her feet and assumed a battle stance. Behind her the ladder crashed and with it - half the walkway. The criminals stared on, baffled, not yet sure how to react.

“This is a vigilante arrest. I suggest you surrender now and turn yourself in peacefully, or else I will use force.”

One of the seven men took out a knife and lunged at her. She clenched her fists and jabbed him in the jaw, knocking him out as soon as he’d come. There was a moment of silence. She jolted towards the group.

The first one came at her with a haymaker from her left. She easily blocked him and returned an uppercut. The second one was running close behind and met a similar fate. One tried to grab a pipe from the ground and was kicked in the face. Two others reached into their jackets, but didn’t go unnoticed. The heroine shook her hands, razor blades falling from within the wrap, dangling off her fingers on thin, barely visible strings. She swung her hand towards the closer assailant, cutting him across the face. The second one was quicker. She flung her other hand, a blade intercepting the line between her and the gun. The gun fired. The bullet split in half. She jumped forward, passing effortlessly between the two pieces, and punched the gunman in the jaw. He fell on the ground. The three remaining criminals seemed like they’d frozen in shock. She just stared at them. In a brief second, they turned around and ran. She waved her hand and as they ran, their belts flew open, sliced in half, causing their owners to stumble over

their own dropping pants. The crime-fighter put her hands on her hips, reassuring herself of a job well done.

“Bravo!”

There was a slow clap. She turned towards one of the windows, ready to fight. A figure slowly glided though it, descending towards her. As the heroine saw the blue, one-piece suit, adorned with silver stripes and stars, she lowered her guard, assuming a more passive-aggressive stance.

“Solaris.”, she spoke up. “What are you doing here?”

A smile appeared beneath Solaris’s golden helmet.

“I was in the neighborhood and saw you sulking on a rooftop. I was about to call for you, when you jumped to this warehouse, flew through the window and stopped an arms deal.”

Solaris scanned the bodies on the floor.

“You did a really nice job, Hopper. Your entrance could have used a little bit of work, but you managed to salvage it. You said your lines, they responded with hostility and you took them out using non-lethal methods. To be sincere, I am impressed. However…”

Solaris scratched his chin.

“…I am pretty sure this isn’t your jurisdiction.”

Hopper crossed her arms.

“If I am correct, your territory ends at warehouse 34. This is 35. I am afraid you’ll have to be fined.”

Underneath her mask, Hopper scoffed.

“That’s bullshit.”

Solaris didn’t pay her any mind. He took out a pen and paper and started filling it out.

“I’ve been staking these guys out for the past 2 weeks. The meeting was supposed to take place in 34. What was I supposed to do?”

Solaris finished writing and handed her the paper.

“You could have called the police, another organization or someone who has jurisdiction here.”

Hopper stared him down. Solaris, with a smirk on his face, waved the paper. She violently grabbed it from his hand.

“Bureaucrat.” She murmured in a low tone.

“Now, now, bunny, professional obligations aside, I am a fan of yours. You have a grungier vibe than most others. Really works in your favour. However, if you want to get into an organization, you really should start working with the system better. This is, after all, your third fine for the month. That’s a very bad track record. Lowers your chances of joining an organization, you know.”

Hopper didn’t answer him. Solaris shrugged and slowly began ascending.

“In any case, I do hope to see you again soon. Maybe we could work on the same side next time. Ta-ta!”

He flew away through the window. Hopper looked at the fine. One hundred dollars. Must be paid in the town bureau for vigilante justice. She crumpled the piece of paper and put it in her pocket. She looked around. All the criminals seemed in

place. She took her cellphone out of the bag, selected her vigilante app and clicked the button. The police should be there in ten minutes to clean the place up. Hopper stretched a bit, looked around for a window and threw her blades towards a walkway, the strings tightening around the ramp. She pulled hard, trying to get herself up there, but a piece of it broke off and fell down. Hopper sighed. She untied her strings and exited through the main door.

#

Hopper sat on a bench in the Bureau for Vigilante Justice. A small, one story building, a quarter of a block wide, that used to be a post office before it shut down. On the inside, there were hallways after hallways stretching towards infinity, more than one thousand reported floors. Information signs hung on every wall and column, so as not to get lost. There had been reports of people making a wrong turn and disappearing for months on end. When the bureau was first being established, an architect by the name of Mark Dutch, a homo superioris with the uncanny ability to manipulate dimensions, was called in to shape the insides of the building. Mr. Dutch claimed the bureau as his masterpiece. No more than two months after its completion, Mark Dutch disappeared without a trace. Some say he got lost in his briefcase one afternoon and never found the right way home.

The interior of the building was old. There were renovations, but they didn’t hide the fact that it was built

around the beginning of the twentieth century. The main colour scheme was beige and brown. Granite floor tiles, with some unsightly cracks here and there. A few pillars, originally straight, now bent in such ways, they couldn’t be considered pillars anymore. On one of the walls there was bas-relief, once depicting a carrier dove, now – a figure of Lady Justice. Some of her fingers were missing and she sported a few cracks here and there, but still inspiring. The place was close to what you could see in modern day ex-soviet art-deco inspired interior design.

One of the many other things that had been weighed down by the passage of time were the seats. Hopper was unlucky enough to end up on a decrepit bench. The wood was soggy and very prone to cracks. She couldn’t sit comfortably under constant threat of splinters. She would’ve just stood up, but there was a high chance of the staff asking her to sit back down, since she would clog the work flow.

For the past 30 minutes she had been stuck between a giant human rat and a man well above his forties dressed as a clown. Probably because of the circumstances, it felt a lot longer. She considered that unnatural. One of her powers was time perception. She could perceive time as fast or as slow as she wanted. That was how she accomplished most of her acrobatic feats. Of course, this power came with a drawback. The more she slowed down time, the more painful everything became. Jumping, moving, even breathing. And if she sustained any

damage before using her ability, it would get amplified, so she mainly slowed it to a point where one second could be felt as three. It was bearable and it gave her a slight advantage during fights. The opposite worked for speeding time up. Pain was barely felt, but there was always a chance that she could speed up her perception too much and die of starvation and dehydration. But in small doses, it was therapeutic and avoided boredom. That is why this place felt so unnatural. She couldn’t manipulate her sense of time. She figured it was probably a byproduct of the warped dimensions of the building, but she liked to believe it was specifically designed to annoy her.

“Number 2631.” A voice called out from one of the hallways.

Hopper got up and walked in a straight line until she reached the registers. An elderly woman from behind a glass wall turned towards her with an apathetic look on her face.

“Please step forward.”

Hopper took a few steps and got her documents ready.

“Vigilante ID.”

Hopper handed her a small, white card. The woman adjusted her horned glasses.

“Your ID hasn’t expired yet, but you should check up on it soon.”

Hopper didn’t answer. The woman returned her card, and took a pen and a blue sheet of paper.

“Name?”

“Alison Holler.”

“Alias?”

“Hopper.”

“Vigilante occupation?”

“Solo vigilante.”

“Civilian occupation?”

“None.”

“Area of occupation?”

“Zone D, subdivision 20-24.”

“Small timer?”

Hopper didn’t answer. She adjusted her documents.

“Please sign the bottom line.”

The woman pushed the paper through the hole with a pen. Hopper signed.

“Please provide all reports of fought crime from the begging of the month.”

Hopper slid her reports. They contained information such as date, time, area, criminal information, reasons for suspicion, additional assistance and other details.

“Please wait a moment to scan and fax these.”

The woman made a few clicks on her computer, stood up with the documents in hand, and shuffled over to her scanner. She stacked the papers in a pile and took out the first one, sliding it into the outdated machine. A slow moving light emerged from under the press. The woman was actually a widely

known homo superioris amongst the vigilantes. Her power was to generate magnetic fields around her that could impede digital devices. She could supposedly manipulate the intensity and area of the field, but even at minimum output, it was always active. Some believed that was a reason why most of the work was done as slow, besides the outdated technology in use. Most questioned the reasoning of hiring a person who’s very being impeded their job. Humanitarians would answer that everyone deserves job and her inherent inadequacy shouldn’t be an issue. Hopper would answer that she was there to spite her.

Thirty minutes of scanning and faxing later, the woman took her seat and turned towards a spiritually exhausted Hopper.

“Do you have floppy disk copies of your reports?”

“Yes.”

Hopper pushed a bag of floppies through the whole. The woman took the bag and placed it beside her. She opened a safe, counted through four hundred dollars, placed them in an envelope and handed them. Hopper took the envelope and stuck it in the inner pocket of her jacket. Before she turned to walk away, she spoke up again.

“Where should I go to pay fines?”

The woman slowly lifted her gaze. She took her pen and a sticky note. She scribbled something down and passed it through the hole. Hopper took the note. It was a well detailed and intricate map from here to where she needed to go,

complete with instructions. The bureaucrat’s second power was to fit extremely detailed information into a minimum amount of space.

 The payment took about two minutes as a whole, which was surprising in itself considering the giant centipede which stood behind the desk. It couldn’t really talk and made a gurgling sound whenever it spoke, but it could understand Hopper and it gave her a cue card whenever it said something.

Hopper walked out of the building, wasting the better part of her day. Outside it started pouring. She sighed, opened up her backpack and took out a raincoat. She strode through the puddles. It was an awful day. Giving a quarter of your earnings because of a mistake was quite the sting to the ego. Especially painful was the fact that this was her first real hit. A serious crime. The only thing she had encountered before were petty thefts and an illegal vigilante, or rogue. There wasn’t really a fight. He complied and followed her to the police station. He was sentenced to a few months of community service, because of his clean record. It was sad really.  The closest thing to a rogue she has come to was a man trying to do something good, but not having the papers for it. In reality rogues weren’t really uncommon, but they were still uncommon enough. Most knew how to hide their tracks or joined organizations. You wouldn’t

really find a rogue soloing like you would a vigilante. Although even solo vigilantes were becoming a rare breed.

Hopper was actually trying to get into a vigilante organization, The Justice Brigade. A low tier group, that didn’t offer all that much, but it did offer a fixed salary and someone to do all the paperwork, which was good enough for her. She did try applying for it, but was turned down three times. They deemed her too inexperienced. And now with the fines, chances were looking even slimmer.

It was strange really. When she first started, she had high hopes. She envisioned herself busting down crime rings, being adored by the public and becoming a member of the high tier groups. Now, the only thing on her mind was how to get through the month and how to dry her shoes before her night patrol.  

“Excuse me, ma’am. Could I ask you a quick question?”

The voice came from behind her. Could someone be asking a woman for directions in the middle of a downpour? Hopper turned, fists raised. After seeing who it was, she lowered them, maintaining a frown.

“What do you want Solaris?”

Solaris pretended to blush.

“Oh, I’m flattered that you know me ma’am. I wanted to ask you, if you are interested in a business proposition on top of that building?”

Solaris pointed towards a nearby building, four stories high. Hopper crossed her hands.

“Can’t you ask me now?”

“No, ma’am”. Solaris shook his head. “Utmost secrecy must be kept.”

Hopper looked around. They were the only ones on the street. She pinched the bridge of her nose, gently massaging it.

“Is this really necessary?”

Solaris smirked.  

“Of course, ma’am.”

Hopper groaned and Solaris, pleased with himself, flew towards the rooftop. The girl went towards the alleyway of the building and took her rabbit mask out of her bag. It was a difficult job, but she put the mask on without lowering the hood of her raincoat. After cracking her knuckles and doing a bit of stretches she jumped and grabbed on to the wall by the bricks. Unfortunately, it was too slippery and she fell on her back side. She got up and jumped onto the fire-escape.

At the top Solaris was waiting for her, smug as ever.

“Was there any reason not to do this on the street?”

“You know the rules. What if someone had seen us and deduced our identities?”

“I walked out of the bureau without a mask on, I think we would have been fine.”

“Hmm…we can discuss your bad work ethics later,” Solaris answered, with a joking tone. “I have a job to do.”

“There was no one down there…” Hopper scoffed under her nose, but the young man didn’t pay her any attention.

“Now, Hopper, what do you know of the Gun Kata Death Cult?”

“Umm…they were small time criminals, right? Mixing kung fu and gunplay?”

“Correct. A small, criminal organization, mostly composited by homo superioris who have the potential of learning such a martial art. Very good.”

If she were anyone else, she would have thought that the last remark was meant to mock her. But she knew better and assumed the entire conversation had that goal.

“Now, last night, after our little meeting in the warehouse, I went on my nightly patrol. All was fine, until I heard gunfire coming from an abandoned building. When I got there, I found ten cult members dead. They were all sliced up and there was no sign of the killer.”

Hopper didn’t visibly react to the news, but the idea of ten gunwielding black belts being slaughtered without a trace spooked her a bit.

“As you’d guess, I went out searching for clues. I couldn’t find anything, except for witness. A young girl, around six years old. Do you know what she told me?”

Hopper remained silent. She didn’t like where this was going.

“She told me that she saw a bunny running on the rooftops with knives on ropes.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Come again?”

“A bunny with knives on ropes.”

Hopper didn’t know how to react. She was stunned.

“A-are you saying that I killed them?”

Solaris let out a chuckle, followed by a hearty laugh

“Oh, dear, no. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. Sure you have a few smudges on your record, but nothing that would make me think you were the culprit.”

“Then what?”

Solaris smiled.

“Don’t you see? You have a nemesis!”

“A nemesis?”

“That’s right!”

The man was visibly more excited than his companion. Even more so than would be considered normal.

“To be completely frank here, I am a bit jealous. You’ve barely been a year on the job and here you are. Copy cat rogues running around, inspired by your image. I know it’s not professional of me, but I must congratulate you. No matter how macabre the occasion is.”

Hopper didn’t really feel like being congratulated. Although the information was shocking and the story

surrounding it was morbid, she didn’t really feel anything special about it. Mostly because it was coming from him.

“So? What am I to do?”

Solaris’ cheerful expression was replaced with one of confusion.

“Why, you are supposed to catch your nemesis, of course.”

“It doesn’t really seem like an option. The rogue is in your territory.”

The man grabbed his chin.

“True…but I could sign you up as an assistant on the case. On paper, I’ll be leading the pursuit, but the word on the street would be that you caught the rogue on your own. After the job is done, I’ll even give you my part of the commission.”

“I don’t buy it. Why should I do this? Considering last night…”

“Now, now” Solaris raised a finger. “Last night you were in breach of the law. It was my duty to do what I did. Now, I’m offering you a chance. If a vigilante doesn’t catch their own nemesis, it’s looked down upon by the community. It could give you points next time you apply for the justice brigade”

Hopper looked at her feet. She did need the money. And more experience to put on her resume. Not to mention the rep. She looked at Solaris.

“You promise you won’t pull any stunts like you did last night?”

Solaris shook his head.

“No. As I said, I was only doing my job. You can’t fault me for your mistakes, can you?”

Hopper sighed. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was acting stupid. She knew better and she would say that he was trying to spite her.

It was around midnight. Hopper was crouching on the side of a building, surveilling the neighboring one – a decrepit, uninhabitable, five story building, paint torn off, revealing the brickwork. According to Solaris, the guns from the deal Hopper had stopped the other day were going to go to the cult. They would gather here to discuss where to buy their next shipment, so there was a chance the killer might strike again. When she asked him how he knew, he replied that he asked for the police report on the thugs. One of them squealed and shared everything he knew, including the most recent gathering site of the cult. That made Hopper feel very unprofessional. The only reason she knew of the deal was because the overheard two of the criminals talking about it in broad daylight. She wasn’t really a detective. She just wanted to do the right thing. At least, that’s what she used to want. Nowadays all she wanted was to pay her rent without much fuss. She admitted to herself that she might be way over her head. Gangs, murders. When she shared her concerns with Solaris before splitting up, he just said that she’d do fine.

#

Hopper had to wait about half an hour before a van stopped in front of the building. Three men exited the van and went inside. Her grip tightened. She would wait it out. If she heard something she would jump through one of the windows and subdue the killer. Solaris told her that he would fly by every ten minutes or so during his patrol to see if she needed any help. Everything was going to be alright. If she became part of The Justice Brigade, this would be standard procedure.

By now the men should have been on the top floor. So far nothing unusual. Then she heard gunshots. About four. And then there was silence. So quick? These were supposed to be marksmen. Hopper stood up, ran back and jumped through a window, glass flying in her wake.

She was greeted by a horrid scene. Two of the gang members lied on the ground in pools of blood, covered in lacerations. Hopper froze up. She looked around. At the other side of the room stood a figure, looking back at her. The figure was female. She held the last gang member by the collar of his shirt, other hand raised, holding a straight razor, which in turn was connected to a chain. She wore scruffy, oversized clothes, a rabbit’s head hastily drawn on her shirt with acrylic, her face was hidden behind a brown, cardboard mask, crudely cut to resemble a rabbit. Half of the left ear was snipped off. In place of a right eye, there was a big, blue X and for the left – a red swirl. A cartoonish snout grinned beneath them in red. The features were drawn on with crayons.

Her hair, a dark shade of yellow, was unkempt and glistened in the pale light from outside. Her knuckles were visibly deformed and her arms were covered in cuts and scars up to her elbows. Although the killer  was a fair distance away from Hopper, she could swear that she smelled vinegar from her direction.

Hopper tried to regain her senses. It didn’t help that the rogue didn’t move the entire time. She just stared at the heroine.

“This is a vigilante arrest. I suggest you surrender now and…” Hopper was cut short when the killer sliced the throat of the last cultist. She threw the body on the ground and started walking towards Hopper.

It happened so suddenly. The crime-fighter didn’t know how to react. It was her first time seeing something so gruesome.

By the time Hopper came to her senses, the rogue was right in front of her. She assumed a fighting stance, but the killer just walked by her, towards the window. The heroine turned. Her nemesis was about to run away. Without even considering the thought of a fight. She didn’t want to admit it, but it made her angry. She threw her hand towards her new nemesis, the blades wrapping themselves around one of her arms. Hopper pulled on the strings, trying to take down her target, but she barely flinched. Instead, her nemesis wrapped the strings even tighter and flung her across the room.

When Hopper hit the floor, she felt a sharp pain. Her shoulder was dislocated. Before she could lift her head, her foe was already in front of her. She kicked her in the face, breaking her nose. The heroine slammed into the wall. Her opponent picked her up by the collar, staring into her for a second, after which she threw her through a nearby window.

With risk of going into shock, Hopper slowed down time, not seeing another alternative. The still falling shards of glass above her almost froze completely. With that, the pain in her shoulder and nose intensified. Hopper scanned the area above her, noticing a curtain rail on the inside of the window. She sped up time, throwing the blades towards it. The strings wrapped themselves around the rail and her body hit the side of the building. Hopper looked up. On the window stood her opponent. She flicked her razor and cut through one of the strings. Hopper’s eyes widened. If she used her power again, there was a high chance of her blacking out. The second and third strings were cut at once. She was about to cut the final string, when she stopped at the last second, flicked the razor closed and disappeared inside.

The heroine took a deep breath. She was about to start planning how to get down, when she noticed that she was slowly descending. Her nemesis had barely sliced the final string, leaving it to break on its own. There wasn’t much time to act. Hopper summoned all her strength and lunged herself up the string, desperately attempting to climb with her one

functioning arm. With every try, the string thinned out more and more. On the fourth lunge, the string broke, but she caught the window frame. She pulled herself up. The room was empty, save for the two bodies.

Hopper got up, her left arm hanging lifelessly. She grabbed it and walked towards a wall. Only partially aware of how to proceed, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and slammed her shoulder in the wall. It popped into place, signaled by her scream. She fell on the ground, breathing heavily. The heroine took off and opened her backpack, taking out a bottle of water, a few rolls of string and a small box of razor blades. She lifted up the edge of her mask to drink, then tied a new batch of blades to her fingers.

She was getting ready to leave when six men, all dressed in black, broke through the door. Too exhausted to speak, she raised a hand towards them, in a plea for them to wait. They wouldn’t have it.

“We are the Gun Kata Death Cult elite strike squad! For sins against our clan we sentence you to death!”

In a heartbeat, they were all armed with two pistols each. Hopper forgot to breathe.  She spread the blades in front of her and slowed down time. They fired. The hail of bullets was intercepted by the flurry of razors. After every shot, the cultist changed the angle of fire. What Hopper couldn’t slice, she dodged, albeit by a hair. After the first round ended, she

fell to her knees. In a split second they had already reloaded and took aim.

“Admirable resilience, but this is the end.”

The girl closed her eyes and hoped for a miracle. Just then, through a window from behind the heroine, a blinding light appeared. The next thing she knew, all six of the cultists were on the floor, shielding their eyes. Hopper turned around. By the window hovered Solaris, arms crossed.

“Tisk, tisk, tisk.”

He was looking at Hopper, typical smirk on his face. She had the feeling he was trying to spite her.

#

Somehow, it didn’t surprise Hopper that Solaris had an office. It was modern, yet typical. The midday sun barely shone through the half-closed blinds. The grey walls, which were most likely originally painted white, did not have any decorations, except for a clock above Solaris and a motivational poster with a kitten hanging from a rope and the words “hang in there” written beneath. Hopper sat on a rather uncomfortable chair in front of a desk. Sheets of paper were neatly stacked in columns, resting in one corner, with three pens arranged just under them. Right next to the outdated monitor was a bowl of candy, most likely to make Solaris seem more approachable. By the look of it, the candy was some knock-off cough drop brand, half melted in the packets. Solaris sat in a presidential chair, elbows on the desk, the

tips of his fingers touching, waiting for his computer to boot. The faint ambience of the computer fan filled the room, the clock giving it rhythm. Both vigilantes stared at each other. Hopper gripped her seat with discomfort, the chair squeaking a bit.

From time to time Solaris would tap his fingers. He was unphased by the silence or the tension it brought. He would shift his eyes towards the monitor every now and then, checking if the computer hadn’t frozen up. Hopper couldn’t take it. She closed her eyes and sped up time, enough so when she resumed as normal, the computer had just loaded. Solaris was aware of what his colleague had done, finding it completely distasteful and a tad bit insulting. Still, he was not one to judge. He turned towards the monitor, opening the rogue database files. He put his hands on the keyboard.

“Rogue’s alias?”

“Excuse me?”

Hopper wiped a string of drool hanging from the edge of her mouth. A side effect of speeding up time was entering docile, almost vegetable-like state.

Solaris calmly repeated:

“The rogue’s alias.”

“Oh...um, she didn’t have one.”

Solaris stared at the screen. He started typing.

“Doppelganger. Works just as well. Real name…blank. Appearance?”

“She was a bit taller than me, but hunched over. Deformed knuckles. Cuts on the arms. Red shirt, black pants. Rabbit mask. Oily, blonde hair…”

Solaris stopped typing. He shifted his eyes towards the heroine.

“You said she wore a mask.”

“Oh, it was a cardboard cutout”

“Ah! Alright”

Solaris continued typing.

“Any powers?”

“Strength and probably super speed. Those were all I saw.”

“Alright. Weapons?”

“She had a straight razor on a chain.”

Solaris giggled underneath his nose. Hopper didn’t find it funny. He turned to his colleague. He continued typing for about a minute more and turned.

“I’ll finish up the work later. Now, how do we stop this…“

He looked at the screen.

“…Doppelganger?”

Hopper shrank in her seat, away from his enthusiasm. How would they stop her? How would she stop her? Hopper spoke up.

“How did she…how did she decide to take up my image?”

Solaris scratched the back of his neck.

“Who’s to say? You aren’t a popular vigilante. She probably saw you one night at the edge of my territory.”

“What about the Gun Kata grudge?”

“Either something personal or a warped sense of justice. It’s not my job to know. My job is to fill in paperwork and

capture criminals. So? How are we going to capture this criminal?”

Both vigilantes trailed deep in thought. If she had super speed, she would need to stay on the ground to use it. Hopper figured it was a good start for a plan.

“By…keeping her off the ground?”

Solaris scratched his chin. Hopper continued.

“If we…I keep her somehow off the ground, she wouldn’t be able to use her powers all that much.”

“Yes…I see your point. How do you plan on doing that?”

“Maybe…find out where she would strike next, booby trap the area, use sneak attacks and…”

Solaris raised his hand.

“I like your enthusiasm, I really do, but how would you find that out?”

“She has a thing for the Gun Kata Death Cult. So maybe we can do it like night?”

“I’m afraid we can’t. The boys you helped me catch last night. They all talked. Gave away everything – leaders, hideouts, subordinates. The Cult is dead. Congratulations on the bust by the way. More points for your resume for the Justice Brigade.”

Hopper sighed. The good news didn’t do much to lift her spirits.

“So…there aren’t any active members or gathering sights?”

“I’m afraid not…sorry.”

“Does she know?”

A smirk started sneak it’s way on Solaris’ face. He turned towards his computer and started typing away.

“The Cult was going to hold a meeting in a week. The entire gang was going to be there. Do you think our girl would have gone?”

“For sure.”

“Right. So the meeting was going to be held in the industrial area, near the harbor. The abandoned factory.”

Solaris stretched out on his chair.

“Well. That just about does it. Go home, fill in your reports, make a plan and catch yourself a nemesis!”

He was about to get up, when Hopper interrupted him.

“Wait!”

He turned, startled.

“Do you think…do you think I am ready for this?”

He didn’t give it a moment’s thought.

“Sure you are.”

“I’m serious. Last night….last night was a disaster. I’m not sure if I’m up for the task.”

He sat back down.

“No one is really forcing you. You can just quit the job and I’ll have to catch the killer. Of course that would be a red mark for you, but I’m sure you could manage”

The heroine slumped on her chair.

“I haven’t faced such a serious threat before. I know the right thing to do is face her. That’s what heroes are supposed to do, but…”

Solaris cut her off.

“Listen. Hopper. I know you are scared, but you have to understand. We don’t do this because it’s the right thing. We do it because it’s our job.”

Solaris stood up and went for the door.

“You are still young, you’ll grow out of your idealism soon.”

Hopper took a deep breath. She didn’t know why she thought Solaris was going to reassure her. He was probably trying to spite her again. She took a piece of candy from the bowl, unwrapping it and unsticking it as much as she could from the melted syrup. Finally she gave up and put the candy in her mouth, intending to spit out the wrapper parts later.

#

    The meeting of the cult was supposed to take place at midnight. Hopper was crouching on the roof of building nearest to the factory, surveilling all possible entry points – the employee entry, the main gate for shipments, and most of the windows. The shipment gate, wasn’t a good entry point by any means and she stood on the only side where entering through the windows was a viable option. For the past week she had tried to think of a plan to contain her nemesis. All the windows were lined with her strings, creating a net for

Doppelganger if she tried going through them, and the door was booby trapped – when it was opened, a lead pipe, around shin-high, would spring out from the side, contusing her foe, after which a net would shoot out, capturing her. In retrospect, the plans seemed kind of silly and Doppelganger had proven herself capable of cutting through Hopper’s strings, but Hopper was sure that by the time her nemesis could react, she would jump in and incapacitate her. She had come five hours earlier to install her traps, and make sure that the Doppelganger wasn’t around, and sat on the building for the other three. She just hoped everything would go quickly and without any hindrances.

Hopper waited silently, reviewing all possibilities in her head, the hairs of her neck quickly turned around, instinctively activating her powers in the process, slowing down time. In front of her stood Doppelganger, unmoving and staring at Hopper. She held two straight razors, four more on the ground beside her, their chains leading from the handles to her back. Two ropes adorned each shoulder, a new addition to her look, apparently emerging from the same bag. Hopper assumed a fighting stance, but Doppelganger didn’t react. She probably wouldn’t attack unprovoked, so the heroine decided to reason with her, not lowering her stance.

“Listen! The Gun Kata Death Cult has been dissolved! There is no reason to fight! Please, turn yourself in peacefully and we can avoid any violence.”

Hopper hoped that would work, more for herself than for her foe. But Doppelganger didn’t react in any way. That unnerved her. It wasn’t normal. Then again, lately nothing was. Hopper decided to close the distance between them.

“Do you understand me? Should I take your lack of reaction as understanding?”

There was no response. Doppelganger adjusted her grip on the razors. Hopper prepared for an attack. None came. She came even closer.

“Lay down your weapons and I can turn you in. None resistance will be a benefit to you in the long run.”

Again, no response. She was either trying to bait Hopper in, or she was still processing this. Hopper believed the latter. The heroine, not letting her guard down, slowly reached towards the side of her backpack. She undid a pocket and produced a pair of handcuffs from it.

“I am going to put these on you. Do you understand?”

There was no response. Hopper moved in even closer. She was face to face with the killer. Hopper slowly moved the cuff towards Doppelganger’s arm. She didn’t break eye contact. The second the metal touched Doppelganger’s skin, she reacted. Before Hopper could do anything about it, her foe had slashed her across the face. Hopper jumped back. There was no real damage, apart from a tear in the mask. As soon as she had landed, her nemesis was already in front of her. A flurry of punches assaulted the heroine, not giving her any time to

react. Even with her power, Doppelganger moved too quickly for her to defend herself.

After a power punch to her face, Doppelganger had broken through Hopper’s guard, delivering a kick to her chest. It was powerful enough to throw Hopper off the roof. Before she even realized what had happened, she felt a cold, tightening sensation around her wrist and her trajectory had changed. The nemesis had caught her with her chains and reeled her back in, with the intent of continuing her barrage. Hopper boosted her power. Her movement gradually slowed down, with the pain in her chest and face increasing. Just before it became too much to bear, Hopper assessed the situation as much as she could, and adjusted herself accordingly. She sped up time and landed a double kick to her foe’s chest, pushing herself back and weakening the grip on the chains enough for her to escape.

The moment she landed, she turned around and dashed towards the factory. She felt a razor slightly scraping her calf.  She unleashed her blades and upon impact with the window and sliced through the wire trap. Unfortunately, she overshot the walkway. She slowed down time and spun around, throwing her blades at the chain and hook dangling from the ceiling. The strings wrapped themselves tightly around the hook and she swung herself onto one of the many machines that were either too outdated or unmovable to be sold when the factory closed down. She jumped off the machine and landed safely on the ground.

The factory had been used to produce train cars back in the day. This room in particular was the assembly line. Rusted sheets were stacked around the room, with a few half completed cars positioned in front of the main gate. Hopper heard a sound behind her and didn’t have much time to react. She boosted her power. Her perception of time became even slower, so much so that even turning her had seemed like a ten minute task.

    The pain from her chest was rapidly spreading across her body. She knew that she couldn’t last long like this, but she didn’t have much of a choice. When she turned around she saw Doppelganger running towards her, at almost a normal walking speed. There was not much else to do and she decided to enact her final plan. She ducked and extended one of her legs out, slowly turning. Apparently, Doppelganger didn’t have any different form of perception than an average person would, so she didn’t see Hopper’s plan in motion. Just before both of their legs collided Hopper sped up time beyond her normal perception for just a second. There was no pain from the impact. She immediately slowed down time and turned towards her opponent’s flying body, wrapping her legs with her strings and trying to spin her around. Doppelganger sliced the strings off and before she could change her flight path, hit the wall headfirst. She dropped to the ground with a thud. There was no movement.

Hopper clasped her mouth. The thought of her killing someone had never occurred to her. And now here it was. She started breathing heavily. This wasn’t her fault. It was an accident. It was her nemesis’ fault. She wasn’t to blame. She kept repeating these words to herself over and over.

A whistle of surprise filled the room. Solaris flew in through one of the broken windows, holding a small grocery bag.

“Wow, bunny. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Solaris! It’s not what you think! She did it to herself! She cut my strings and she flew off and it wasn’t my fault and and…”

Her voice started to break as she rambled on. Solaris didn’t pay her any attention. She walked towards the body of Doppelganger and put his finger on her neck.

“She’s alive.”

A wave of relief engulfed Hopper’s body. She fell on her knees.

“Congratulations! You caught your nemesis!”

Hopper chuckled under her breath.

“Yeah…I guess I did.”

“This calls for a celebration!”

Solaris took out a box of chocolates from the bag.

Hopper looked at him, smiling beneath her mask.

“Wait. You knew I was going to capture her, didn’t you?”

Solaris shrugged. He took out his phone, clicking the vigilante app.

“As I said, I am a fan.  And I was quite certain of your abilities. Tripping her was a bit unsporting, but I suppose all is fair.”

Hopper collapsed on the ground, arms stretched apart.

“I really did it, didn’t I? I’m gonna be in the justice brigade…”

Solaris popped a chocolate in his mouth.

“Now, now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You earned points to get into the brigade. There’s still more to do.”

“Yeah…”

It didn’t bother her. There was nothing stopping her now. She was at the top of the world.

“Oh, before I forget.”

Solaris took out a stack of papers from the grocery bag and handed them to Hopper.

“What’s this?”

“Documentation. Papers allowing you to work in my territory, papers dismissing you from my territory, my reports of the crimes, an agreement, signed by a notary, allowing you to give in these documents on my behalf and receive my payment for it. You just need to fill some information of your person on the places I left blank and you should fill out your paperwork.”

He popped another chocolate in his mouth.

“You know, if I didn’t know you any better, I’d say you were trying to spite me.”

He scoffed. She laughed and extended her hands towards the box of chocolates.

#

“Please step forward.”

Hopper did as she was told.

“Are you Alison Holler, alias Hopper, solo vigilante with an area of occupation Zone D, subdivision 20-24?”

“I am.”

“Are you aware that you have been operating with an expired vigilante license, effectively deeming you a rogue and therefore a criminal?”

“I was informed this afternoon by the clerks at the bureau.”

The judge looked at her. At least she thought he was looking at her, considering where his glasses pointed towards. Besides his wig, his entire face was covered in darkness, more liquid like than visual.

“You were handing over the files on a case you worked on, is that correct?”

“It is.”

“The clerks informed you of the situation and when you left the building you were confronted by the police?”

“I was.”

“Miss Holler, operating as a rogue is a serious offense, which demands severe punishment.”

The judge adjusted his glasses. Hopper swallowed.

“However, a certain vigilante did vouch for you and managed to convince me that extreme measures needn’t be taken.”

The judge lifted up a sheet of paper.

“On the other hand, you have received four fines this month alone. From what I can see, you have difficulties understanding the system, and you have been having them ever since you began your job. Some action must be taken, Miss Holler. I sentence you to two months of prison and twenty thousand hours of community service. ”

“But I…”

The judge slammed his gavel. An officer grabbed her by the wrist and escorted her out.

#

She sat in her prison cell – a small space with one bed and a toilet. On the walls were etched the days former prisoners had spent here. Solaris promised to visit her tomorrow. She took a deep breath, and barely stopped herself from coughing. There was mold growing in the corners. She closed her eyes and sped up time.