The woman didn’t have a response, beyond continued struggles.  Though Flechette kept to an exercise regimen, spent four nights a week in the gym, she was still only seventeen, and the woman had a good fifty or more pounds of weight advantage.  The woman pulled free and staggered back, gave her an angry look.

If not for that blasted Manton effect, Flechette could’ve caused gravity to temporarily stop working on the woman, causing her to lose her footing and most of the weight advantage.

When the lady stepped forward, toward the fallen, bloodied man, Flechette stepped in her way.  The woman didn’t back off, so Flechette raised her arbalest a fraction.

What are you going to do? As far as I know, you don’t have tranq needles.

That was apparently enough.  The woman scowled further, then turned and fled the scene, half-running, half-limping.

Fair enough.

“No, this isn’t right.” Flechette pulled her arm free of Shadow Stalker’s grasp, then grabbed the woman’s wrist, stopping her as the lid was brought back behind her head.  Not entirely to the woman, she spoke, “You’re better than this.  You have to be.”

Flechette is learning who Shadow Stalker is.

The woman resisted, tried to pull free to make another swing.  When Flechette maintained her grip, the woman used her free hand to throw the lid down on top of the man.

“Stop,” Flechette spoke.  As the woman struggled, she turned to bark a command to Shadow Stalker, “Help!”

Stalker’s made her position on this clear, do you think she’s actually going to help?

“I’m on her side, to be honest,” Shadow Stalker didn’t move.

Yeah, exactly.

“So am I,” Flechette grunted as the woman shifted her weight towards her, knocking her off balance.  “Which means stopping her from doing anything she’ll regret!”

Sensible, though I don’t think Stalker sees this as something to regret.

“Let me go!” the woman shouted at her, “Fuckers like this hurt my daughter!”

Hm. More history, huh?

…shit, what if this is Dinah’s mom? Although if that were the case, she’d probably say “took” rather than “hurt”.

“Is she here?  Your daughter?”  Flechette asked.

“She’s home, it- it happened last week!  Let me at him!  Fuckers!”

Okay, definitely not Dinah.

“Stop attacking him and I will!”

“Let me attack him!”

“Stop attacking him and I’ll let you attack him!”

The woman kicked the man in the ribs, hard, then struck him with the flat of the metal lid.

“You fuckers!” the woman screamed.

That is indeed the technical term for them.

Stunned, Flechette spoke to Shadow Stalker, “The hell?  He’s not in a position to defend himself!”

“Doesn’t deserve to.”

…

I…

can’t argue.

“She’s going to kill him!”

“Better that we give her another few swings than render her powerless for the second time tonight,” Shadow Stalker spoke.  “Or she won’t get over it for a long time.  We’ll stop her before she goes too far.”

This is actually sounding more reasonable by the line, what the hell.

As she hauled him to his feet, a collision made her stagger back.  It hadn’t been directed at her.  No, it was the man she held that slumped, almost insensate.  He hung his head, a trail of blood dribbling from his lip.

…Shadow Stalker?

Seeing a movement just outside her blind spot, opposite the man, Flechette pushed her captive down and away.  She had to evade the weapon as it swung towards her head.

Alright, not Shadow Stalker.

Hm. Who are you and what are you doing? Assuming it wasn’t a miss, this mysterious attacker just took out one party and then attacked the other, so is this a third party?

Maybe this is someone from a rival gang? The Pure, for example, if my guess that the people we’ve been fighting were from Fenrir’s Chosen was correct?

It was the middle-aged woman that the men had been attacking.  She held a metal trash can lid in two hands.  Oblivious to Flechette, she swung the lid down at the man’s head.

Ahh, I see. She wasn’t trying to attack Flechette with that second strike, she just got in the way.

Ma’am, let the heroes handle this.

“Hey!” Flechette shouted, “Stop!”

She reached out to grab for the lid, but a hand on her wrist stopped her.

“Let her,” Shadow Stalker spoke.

…

I suppose Sophia is no stranger to taking out her aggressions through violence.

She tossed the restraint device over the bolt she’d embedded in the wall, a metal thread trailing behind it.  She caught it as it fell, then connected it back to the cord, forming a loose loop that encircled the bolt in the wall.  She pressed the button, and the cord retracted, pulled tight around the pole, then continued retracting.

Ohh, nice.

The two thugs were pulled off the ground, so that each hung from the wall by one ankle.

Excellent.

The device would signal nearby police and PRT officers and direct them here.  They’d use their own equipment to make the restraint device lower the men so the thugs could be brought into custody.  The cord was difficult to cut with conventional knives and saws, and those caught wouldn’t want to cut it either, given how they faced a long drop face first onto pavement.

Any buddies of theirs would have a hell of a time getting to them and cutting them free, as well.

This sounds pretty handy, at least against mundanes.

She walked over to the man she’d clotheslined, who still hadn’t finished gasping, nor had he collected himself enough to run.  She grabbed his wrist and forced it behind his back.

“C’mere, dude.”

Flechette caught the device Shadow Stalker threw to her.  Investigation revealed it to be a small, thin, round device with a single button on top.  “Haven’t seen one of these since training.”

Hm, now what’s this?

“Times like this call for ’em.  City wants us on patrol, not sitting around with our thumbs up our asses, waiting for the cops to cart these fuckers off,” Shadow Stalker kicked one man in the side, so he flopped over onto his back, no longer face down in the water.  He grunted.

Ah, so it’s a button that calls in a retrieval team to the current location, then.

Flechette winced.  That girl is a little too comfortable with violence for my tastes.

I’m glad you agree.

While Shadow Stalker ensured that the man with the cuts on his neck wasn’t bleeding out,

I can’t help but think of Victoria in Interlude 2, because I’m pretty sure the main reason Stalker is bothering to do this is that it would look bad and get her in trouble if she killed someone unnecessarily.

Flechette  loaded another bolt into her arbalest and fired it into a spot on the wall, two floors up.

Shouldn’t one of you check on the victim before going? Or did she run off in a sentence I didn’t focus enough on?

She walked briskly to the two men that had just been darted.  She bent down and used her left hand to wind the coil of the restraint device around his left foot, then did the same for the next man’s right foot.

Oh, she wasn’t getting ready to leave, never mind.

That, uh, was only supposed to be one sentence when I started writing it.

Shadow Stalker was chasing one of the stragglers.  Going shadow-light, she closed the distance in two long paces, leaving ripples and small disturbances in the foot-deep water, rather than splashes.  As she reached the man’s side, she dropped the shadow state, gripped his ear and used one leg to trip him.

There we go, she HASS the ear.

With the grip his ear afforded her, she thrust him face first into the ground with enough force that he couldn’t absorb the impact with his arms.  Water sprayed around them in the wake of the hit.

You can see the resemblance to 7.6 if you just look for it.

Flechette reached into her belt and withdrew a handful of darts, each nine inches long.  She channeled her power into each, and then flung them at the feet of the two remaining thugs, catching the edges of their shoes.  Their shoes fixed firmly to the ground and they fell awkwardly.

Ahaha, nice!

Two tranquilizer bolts appeared in the rear end of one and the upper thigh of the other.  Shadow Stalker.

…to be fair it’s easier to get out of a pair of shoes than a pair of pants.

Which finished the fight.  None of the men were left in any state to run.

Good job.