A Broken Promise Costs A Broken Heart

Introduction

She walks down the street slowly her long legs following the direction to her home. Her headphones are on and the music playing is loud. A distraction. A feeling she's in another world. She needs that, been needing ever since she was young. The world around her never satisfied her needs. She doubts it ever will.

She can't hear the footsteps behind her as they approach but she doesn't need to hear them to know they're from a heavily built person, probably combat boots and walking with that smug determination men bathe in. She can see it, the man slowly but surely approaching her as their shadows start to melt together in the asphalt under the setting sun. The music doesn't stop.

Arms lift from behind her. The man is young, inexperienced and hardly perceptive. He still thinks she hasn't noticed him. Oh well, nothing we can do to change that now.

There's a fabric in his right hand. Probably anesthetic drug. His wide arms start sneaking around her but the next movement is so quick he hasn't even noticed yet. She slides down and moves away from the man, watching him with an ever remaining bored expression. The move causes one of her earplugs to fall off. The noises in the street mix with the soft melody still whispering sweet words of another life in her ear. It falls deaf now.

The man sits up slowly and his facial features go through a wild collection of emotions. He's angry but surprised, his pride has taken a blow yet he remains determined in what must be his ultimate goal. The mysterious woman takes her time to assess the environment. Low traffic, fewer chances for a witness, alleyway behind her, presumably the hiding place, a car parked on the other end.

He charges straight for her, classic mistake, but her hands are cold and hurting so she ends up using her feet. This'll probably end up in a mess. Kick to the lower ribs and the man leans on a light pole behind him. He's faster this time around and catches her leg before it returns to its rightful place. He tries to swing her around but the woman is light and managed to turn their bodies slightly to the right which gives her more place to maneuver. The guy's grip on her foot is relenting. Good. That's what she needs.

When she drops her bag on the floor the inexperienced criminal gets defensive again waiting for meaningless punches. She hopes he's still conscious enough to hold his grip when her whole body flies off from the ground and she uses her other leg to roundhouse kick him in the head. The attack is graceful if one would take the time to appreciate it, but its purpose now is a swift fast kick which causes the young man's head to collide with the pole left of him.

The commotion couldn't have lasted more than a few minutes but it drained all the remaining energy out of her. She leaned down to check the man's pulse. Steady. The woman pulls out her phone, old and broken and barely functioning to dial the police. She sits on the ground next to the unconscious body and lights up a cigarette.

Her small hands, so innocent looking yet capable of wrecking? Such havoc are crushing the last bit of the smoke on the pavement just as she hears the sirens approaching. Did it take them longer or did she just smoke faster?

A loud car stops right in front of her, black, SUV, definitely not cops, feds. s**t. The captain steps out of the passenger side, as a woman, also in a position of authority judging by her posture, steps out of the vehicle.

- Amy? - the captain says unsurely as he walks closer to her. Amy can understand why he sounds uncertain, she doesn't look much herself right now, or at least the version of her that he knows.

- Hiya Mike, - she replies, voice smooth as silk and a soft smile on her face building a heavy contrast with the surrounding world.

Mike furrows his brows and opens his mouth as the woman on his side beats him to it.

- Please help this woman to a vehicle and take her to the police station. I'm going to need to talk to you privately.

Her voice is loud and clear and her head is high as she calls out a random uniform in one of the two patrol cars behind her. Amy finally turns her eyes to the woman empty and calculating. Is she trustworthy? The woman certainly lives up to the image of a strong leader, her gaze contemplating and her words have a final tone to it. The shoulder length haircut looks sharp and professional yet its warm brown color matching her eyes speaks to a kinder nature of her. She's wearing no makeup yet her skin looks flawless, well apart from the deep dark circles under her eyes. Amy feels in no position to judge there. She's tall and slightly more built than most women, although the pantsuit she's wearing hides her physique, probably bought on that purpose. She's married, if the golden band in her hand is anything to go by. It shines in the sun so it's repeatedly cleaned. Married and proud. The encounter between the two women couldn't have lasted more than two minutes yet it was enough time for the both of them to learn more about each other than they knew a couple of seconds ago. The second sentence goes out to Mike and their voices become muffled as Amy is escorted to a car. Per usual she sits in the passenger seat as she and an officer drive away silently.

Now she's back here again, in the interrogation room, where it's been a long time since she sat in the small uncomfortable chair. She's always found the grey color of the walls around her a calming aesthetic and even in these circumstances, she feels oddly comfortable. They haven't handcuffed her so they want to make her feel safe. Yet they haven't come in yet so they're probably behind the mirror trying to understand Amy. Sometimes Amy doesn't even understand herself. She looks up the mirror, internally shocked by her pathetic appearance for a moment and then smiles her widest and winks at the mirror hoping that'll get a reaction out of them. She really needs to sleep. On second thought, she just... might.

A loud noise startles Amy out of sleep and one of the agents winces a little and sends her an apologetic look. However, his tall and muscled physique doesn't agree with the warm look on his face.

- I'm Agent Miles, with the FBI, - he started stretching out his open hand to her. She took it and gave him a genuine smile before replying.

- Amelia Hudson, although I'm sure you already knew that.

- We know a lot about you Amelia, - the other man starts, - but we'd like to hear more from you. So how about we start at your a*******n six years ago?

Although his statement makes her want to run away and hide into a corner she manages to keep her composure and settles for a glare in his direction.

- Agent Miles, all due respect I don't see how a solved case from half a decade ago is of any relevance to my recent issue. Which isn't really much of an issue but rather the case of a low standard criminal that you're blowing out of proportion.

- This isn't your first time helping the police with such "issues" is it? Even though it's not in any reports I'm certain your capability of dealing with such criminals comes from a heavy background which only leaves me to believe you've been hiding details from your a*******n all those years ago.

- They killed my parents then held me as a slave until they got greedy and I managed to escape. Coming to America wasn't easy and there were days I thought I'd never be able to survive. Even after leaving Russia and settling here I never felt safe. I took self-defense classes to help me cope with my PTSD. That heavy enough for you?

The man tries giving her a soft smile keeping on the good cop approach.

- Miss Hudson, the man you caught today was no low-class criminal. He was a s****l sadist we had been chasing for days now and he already has a body count higher than I would like. Forgive me if I find it hard to believe you were able to bring him down with just some "self-defense classes".

- Well then agent, forgive me if I find it hard to believe you would be so incompetent as to struggle with the man I fought. I'm sorry but the man you came looking for is still out there so I suggest you let me go and do your job before that body count rises highe-

A loud slam startles both from their seats as they turn their heads to the door that just opened. A young woman with long blonde hair stands in front of receiving looks of annoyance from three pairs of eyes. Along with the agent with Amelia, their leader stands behind the blond girl probably trying to stop her from interrupting.

- That's not true. The man you caught just confessed.

This makes Amy raise a brow and a smirk settle over her face.

- Looks like I was of help after all, - she turns back to agent Miles,- but still, that's not your culprit. I suggest you look for a connection between them because the man I fought was inexperienced, his fighting style was practically non-existent and he didn't even have the brute force to compensate his utter lack of skill. If anything I was probably his first "would be" victim. What probably happened though is that your guy felt the pressure from the FBI and got my guy to help him out. So they probably have a close connection.

- Help us catch him.

Three heads turn to the pleading voice of their leader with similar looks of surprise.

- Ma'am, we don't know-

- David, I'm tired and I want to go home to my wife and kid and if she can help me do that I'll let her and treat her to coffee afterward. - her eyes search for Amy's, - please.

- Seal my file and you have a deal.

- Deal.

Amy gets up gracefully from her chair and walks towards the door.

- After you, - she says to the woman and smiles her first genuine smile of the day.