Second Wind

Chapter 2: Death in the Rain

The sound of a motorcycle could be heard roaring in the air as the rain fell down to the ground, with the raindrops pelting the eroding stone pavement. Moments later, the sound of the motorcycle was joined by the sound of stomping as someone bolted down the path, huffing and puffing while they were on the move. It seemed to be a hooded figure, wearing a simple silver hoodie along with a pair of tracksuit pants and white sneakers. The sneakers themselves were somewhat tainted by the mud beneath them due to all the rain that had soaked into the semi-stone floor. Judging by how they were running, they were running with clear hints of desperation and fear in their movements, almost as if they were being chased by someone...hunted down, even.

Just mere moments after the stomping noise had ceased, the vrooming noise resonated throughout the area once again, with the motorcycle blazing through the stone path, leaving a mud trail in the process while a mysterious driver was going after the running figure, with the driver inching closer and closer towards their intended target - the person on the run. When they turned around to see just who was chasing them, it was revealed that the hooded figure was a man, and their expression looked to be one of anxiety, if not intense fear. The fact that he was being closed in by the rider was making him even more terrified over the possibility of getting caught - as much as he wanted to move faster, he just couldn't. His legs just couldn't exert themselves any longer, but the engine of the motorcycle just roared even louder as its speed got stepped up a notch. It looked almost as if they were about to run the man over and turn him into nothing but roadkill.

And then, the rain proved to be the hooded man's greatest adversary - he ended up slipping against the floor before falling down to the floor, rendering him immobile while the bike bolted towards him. In an act of fearful instinct, he suddenly raised his hands up, screaming for help and looking away from the headlight of the motorcycle. However...nothing happened. Upon realizing that he hadn't turned into a mangled mess, one of his eyes slowly opened up as he stared right into the light of the bike that was now inches from his face. The vehicle had stopped to a complete halt right before him, and the driver was just blankly staring at him through their helmet.

The rider wore a denim jacket with a bunch of logos and badges sewn into it, with aforementioned logos being rather old brands from the 1980s to the early 2000s, especially video game brands, such as Atari and SEGA. Underneath that jacket was a simple black T-shirt, no designs or anything of the sort. The rider was also wearing a matte black pair of slacks...talk about simplicity. The motorcycle remained in an immobile state, with its engine still humming like a wild growling animal as the rider got themselves off their vehicle, with them now standing beside it while continuing to stare down at the person who had remained on the floor. There seemed to be something slung behind their back...but it was hard for the man to make out what it was due to surrounding darkness shrouding much of this mysterious individual that towered before him.

The man, now overwhelmed in a great deal of frustration and fear, blurted those words out:

"Just who the hell are you?! Why are you following me?!"

The man had received no reply, and from there, the helmeted figure raised their hands to the sides of their helmet, with the person taking it off and revealing their true face to the man - it was a woman, most likely at their early twenties. She had auburn hair, though it looked like a dark brown due to the lack of light in the environment, with the only light source being the motorcycle headlight being shined directly at the hooded man. Her skin was a light brown, but again, with the lack of light, she looked a lot darker in the man's perspective. Her eyes were a hazel color, and her expression was blank, almost serious even, almost as if she could turn someone to stone with but a mere gaze. She shoved her hands into her jacket pockets as she let out a huff, continuing to glare at him for a few moments, just to scare her prey even more, before she inevitably spoke up, finally granting the man a bit of relief after being subjected to such torturous silence.

"You don't need to know who I am. But I will tell you why I am following you. Don't pretend that I didn't see you trying to sell drugs to those kids."

"Drugs?! What made you think I was-"

Before he could even say anything in a vain attempt to defend himself, she suddenly lunged forward as she stomped the man's thigh, and just like that, he recoiled as a reaction to her sudden act of violence, with him screaming in pain while she pushed her foot even further into his thigh, and in response, he dug his fingers into the stone pavement while he threw his head back in agony - it felt like he was being stabbed in the leg at that moment, and with him unable to cope with the pain any longer, he finally spilled the beans as he confessed.

"Okay, okay! Fine!! I tried to sell meth to them! Get your foot off ME!!"

She remained quiet in response to his answer, and after a few seconds, she let out a rather irritable sigh as she pulled her foot away from his thigh, and when he stared down at where she had hit him, he could see that his thigh was bleeding, with blotches of red now easily noticeable on his tracksuit. He did not realize it, but her shoes had almost unnoticeable heels that were covered with a set sharpened spikes, allowing her to add an extra dose of pain to whoever she decides to torment. She certainly was...very unorthodox with her form of interrogation.

The man was now bent on finding a way of escape - but the pain and injuries that he had sustained on his thigh meant that he was almost essentially incapacitated. From there, he knew that his status might bring some fear to this seemingly merciless woman.

"Y-You can't kill me! I'm with the Pathfinder! If they find out that you were the one who killed me, they'll make sure that your blood will be used to paint the walls of Detroit, your guts fed to the vagrants who are still lucky enough to stay alive here! If you try to do anything to me, you won't-"

Before he could even finish his sentence, she launched a kick to his face, with her immediately silencing him as his head was thrown back. His body started shivering profusely, partially because of the cold rain, but mostly because of the fact that he had taken a hard kick to the face. He stared down at the ground, his head facing away from her as he huffed and puffed, with blood coming out of his nose and mouth. She must've really dealt a number on him there.

"You...fucking..."

He couldn't even get himself to finish his sentence - he was just unable to do so. While he was left reeling from the pain to his face, she then spoke to him once more, maintaining the menacing tone that she had held when she initially spoke with him just moments ago.

"I don't think you realize how much I don't care about your precious Pathfinder. What are they, your little sugar daddies? Your attempt at a cheap cop-out? Just because you have something to do with them doesn't mean that I'm going to care less. I would have warned you to never peddle drugs again, but now that I know that you're with the Pathfinder...you'll never change, won't you? Even if I let you go, you'll still find a way to ruin the lives of the people you meet. All because you just want some green down your pocket. Does it not bother you that you're just earning blood money, punk?"

In response to what the woman had said to him, he let out a slightly strained laugh as he looked towards her, the motorcycle headlight now shining on his face once more - his nose seemed to be dislocated, and he had lost a tooth after he had taken the kick to the face, and despite that, he still maintained a smile as he spoke up, attempting to sound more menacing, which was a different change of pace, given how he had spoken with hints of fear in his voice.

"Of course you wouldn't get it...any and all money you get here in this damn place will ALWAYS be blood money...even if you try to act all noble and help the people here in some virtuous fashion...you'll always find a way to hurt people. You're hurting people right now, aren't you?"

He posed the question to her before letting out a laugh, his head tilting down to the ground as he coughed a little in between his frail laughing, spitting a bit of blood out of his mouth soon afterward before moving his hand towards his tracksuit pocket while he continued speaking to her.

"You can act all high and mighty now, but when the day comes, you'll find yourself cornered with nowhere to run. Then you'll finally show off your true self. You'll be scared, terrified. But there will be no one to save you, because why would they choose to get involved with the Pathfinder? They would prefer to keep their lives intact, after all..."

The woman let out a huff as a silent response to what he had said to her, and from there, she shook her head side to side as she spoke up.

"I'll let you believe in that utopia. But my goal is pretty clear - to rid the streets of scum like you."

"The only scum that will be wiped off the streets is YOU!"

And just like that, the man suddenly pulled something out of his pocket - however, before he could even do anything else, the sound of a pump action shotgun being shot rang in the air, and just like that, his last memory ended up being his head blasted wide open as his headless body collapsed onto the ground after the woman shot him dead, with blood, bits of brains and gray matter splattered all over the stone floors. The smell of blood was unbearable, but given how she looked almost indifferent in response to the scene that she had created, she must have done this countless times already.

She closed her eyes, almost as if she was attempting to contemplate what she had done before letting out a sigh and slinging her shotgun behind her back once more, and soon after that, she pulled something out of one of her jacket pockets - a notepad and a pencil which looked utterly worse for wear. She flipped it to one of the pages before crossing out a name on a list of names, half of which had already been crossed out. Once that was out of the way, she shoved the notepad and the pencil back into her jacket pocket before looking at the mess she had made on the floor in front of her.

"Jeez, that's the last time I'll blow someone's brains out...I should just stick to blasting their chest open or something instead..."

She mumbled to herself before getting onto her motorcycle, and once she had placed her helmet back on, she revved the engine a few times before getting a move on, getting some of that grey matter on her tires as she drove down the pavement. To that man, it was the last day of his life.

But to her, it was just a Wednesday.

However, unbeknownst to her, there was someone that had been actively spying on her and they had witnessed all that she had done, including the murder that she had committed...

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Hours later, in the Pathfinder's base of operations, which was, in reality, the Fox Theatre that they had transformed into the gang's headquarters, there were a group of people together at the auditorium - all of them were wearing animal masks to cover their faces, and they were also wearing suits, with their colors being a bright red with the Pathfinder's logo sprayed onto the top right side of their clothes. The logo itself was merely the letter P with a circle around it while there was another line on the opposite end intersecting at the middle of the letter, essentially creating the letters X and P at the same time within the sprayed circle. They seemed to be surrounding one person in particular and speaking to them, who was presumably the leader of the Pathfinder...

Fleurie le Maistre.

The leader was wearing a black suit to represent her superiority over the rest of the clan, and she wasn't wearing a mask - instead, her face was readily available for everyone to see, but they could see how her face was greatly damaged. There was a huge scar going down the left side of her face and through her left eye, resulting in her affected eye looking gray while her other eye was an emerald green. However, the right side of her face wasn't spared from injury as well - there was a burn mark on her right cheek, and although it has healed, it had never faded, resulting in the mark remaining as a part of her complexion indefinitely. The sleeves of her suit was torn off as well, revealing her scarred arms which were littered with cuts which had healed but not vanished. She was wearing a pair of chunky heeled sandals, and while her pants covered much of her legs, one could see that her feet was slightly burned as well, much like her right cheek. One can only imagine what she had been through to make her the woman she is now. Perhaps her injuries are signs of her triumphs which made her the leader of the Pathfinder in the first place. One may never know for sure.

As to what she and her clan members were talking about:

"Okay, everyone. Mission report. Did each and everyone of you do what you were tasked to do?"

One of the members, who was wearing a rooster mask, spoke up in response to Fleurie's question - it seemed that he was representing the entire group who had surrounded her.

"Yes, madam. We were able to carry on our extortion on the tenants of Detroit with relative ease, really. Anyone who refused to comply to our demands were swiftly taken out. And as for our attempt at circulating drugs throughout the city, we were able to do that as well. However, we have-"

Before he could even finish what he said, however, Fleurie suddenly slapped the masked person in the face, and while he had recoiled, he suddenly forced himself remain still and silent while he tried to deal with the pain in a more quiet and immobile manner, knowing that he couldn't afford to anger the leader in any way possible. From there, she stood up from her chair, letting out a huff as she explained herself.

"Stupid fool, who are you to kill them? Do you know what killing them does? It means the money STOPS because they won't be alive to give it to us. What you SHOULD do is kidnap them, torture them and make sure they stay alive, but just BARELY! Make sure you can suck EVERY LAST CENT out of them! But never, EVER KILL THEM! EVEN IF YOU'VE MANAGED TO ROB THEM OF EVERYTHING THEY'VE SAVED! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME YOU GNATS?!"

In response, all of the group members would scream in unison:

"YES, MADAM!"

With that, she let out a sigh before sitting back down on her chair.

"Now, continue from where you were left off."

When the representative was allowed to speak once more, he regained his composure before speaking up, attempting to resume from where he was cut off.

"A-Anyway, as for our circulation of drugs throughout Detroit, we have been mostly able to execute our tasks with ease - however, we have come across a problem, madam."

"An issue? Do tell...who, exactly, is being a thorn to our plans?"

"There is someone driving around the streets of Detroit that are hunting down our drug dealers. They are also responsible for hindering some of our extortion duties in the city's neighborhoods. I'm sure you've recalled Osborn having a few problems with the extortion work. For the drug problem, they are active within Brightmoor, according to one of our spies living within the vicinity."

"Hmm...yes, I do remember that, actually. I thought you had that problem WEEDED OUT."

"W-We thought we did, madam, but they are known to be a very elusive figure, and she keeps escaping us as well - she is like a vigilante of sorts, and their presence is becoming more profound by the week. We are not sure on how to deal with them, madam. How they are tackling our work is very erratic as well. We don't know why she's only tackling our extorting acts in Osborn, and we don't know why she's only tackling our drug circulation in Brightmoor. We aren't even sure if she has a presence in places like Warrendale, Osborn or the Eastern Market."

She placed a hand to her chin, letting out a hum as she tried to think of a way to put a stop to this ever-growing problem, and from there, she let out a huff as she folded her arms before speaking up.

"Looks like someone's trying to be a hero...and they're probably acting the way they are because they don't want to stay in one place for too long. So you said that she was last seen in Brightmoor, right?"

"Yes, madam."

With that, she got back up to her feet, doing a little stretch to loosen herself up before cracking her knuckles. From there, she cracked a menacing smile as she snickered to herself lightly.

"In that case, I'll make sure she never gets herself involved in this mess ever again. All of you, come with me. We have a vigilante to kill."