The warehouse came in and out of focus as Siren adjusted her binoculars.  Finally the enlarged image sharpened, and she scanned the perimeter.  The warehouse, and most of the buildings in this district, were owned by a shell corporation that Joey Digeorgio, head of the mob outfit in Bristol, controlled.  She’d been hitting his smaller operations, extortion operations, gambling dens and brothels mostly, for the past few weeks, using her unique method of persuasion to get them to turn themselves in.  After having her apartment broken and being captured by two of Joey’s thugs, she’d decided to hit back a little harder.

“You gotta be kidding me,” the redhead whispered under her breath.  She squinted into the binoculars, following one of the guards on patrol.  She could see the glint of his gun tucked into the waistband of his pants, catching glimpses of it under his coat as he paced.  More distressing than the gun, however, was the big, black headphones over his ears.  She scanned the area, finding another guard.  He was wearing an identical pair of headphones.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered, spotting a third guard with the same headphones.  Every one of the was wearing them, and she was willing to bet they were noise canceling.

She lowered the binoculars, staring across the empty lot to the warehouse.  The cool breeze blew her long red locks across her face, partially concealing the gold mask she wore.  Her foster sister’s words from earlier that same day echoed through her head.



“Even if you convinced those guys that you aren’t Siren, that doesn’t mean they don’t think Siren’s involved.  They’re gonna find better ways to combat you.  Your gift is really powerful, but it’s also pretty easy to get around.  I mean, your Achilles heel is a strip of duct tape.”

The girls were eating lunch at a burger joint outside of town.  Anna had filled her foster sister in on the break in last night, Macy already aware of Anna’s exploits as Siren, and her recent break from retirement as a super hero.

Anna frowned.  Macy had a point.  She had a way with logic that almost rivaled her own powers.

“Well, I guess I just won’t let them gag me this time.”

It was the brunette’s turn to frown.  “Have you been letting them up until now?”

“No.  But it doesn’t matter.  I can’t turn blind eye anymore.”

“But you could though!  It’s not your responsibility.  You’re not a super hero anymore.”

Anna pushed her half eaten burger away from her.  “You’re the one who convinced me to become a super hero in the first place.  What happened to all that about ‘if I don’t use my powers for good, then they really were a curse?’”

Macy sighed.  “We were 18, still kids practically.  You did the whole super hero thing, and you did some good things.  You were a member of the fucking Legendary Consortium for Christ’s sake.  But they don’t want you anymore, and you’ve found a way to do good even without your powers.  You have a life now.”

“It’s not a life Macy.  I love what I do, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not enough.  It’s, it’s not even that, I guess.  It’s just, I’m hiding.  I spend 90% of my time around the deaf, and the rest, I’m constantly walking on eggshells so I don’t accidentally start ordering people around.  And no, I’m not part of the LC anymore, but I’m glad, because they won’t do a thing about this stuff.  And I can.  And if I do it right, I can do it without anyone getting hurt.”

“There’s nothing I can say that will make you drop this, is there?”

“Not unless you can also make people do what you tell them to, then no,” Anna said, a thin smile cracking her lips.

“Then I support you.  Just, promise me you’ll be careful.”

Anna opened her mouth to speak, but Macy reached across the table and slapped her hand over her sister’s lips.  “And don’t tell me not to worry.  I’m supposed to worry about you.”

Anna nodded as Macy pulled her hand back.  She licked at the ketchup that Macy had accidentally smeared on her cheek when she had hand gagged her.  “I promise I’ll be careful.  I should back to work though, I’m running late as it is and I can’t afford to lose this job right now.”

“You should tell Harold to give you a raise,” Macy said, wiping her hands.

“I’m not going to exploit him with my powers.”

“How many times have you told him not to fire you?” Macy asked, giving Anna a stern look.

“That doesn’t count.  He thinks he’s doing it because I’m hot,” Anna said, grinning cheekily.  She got up from the table.  “Thanks for paying for lunch Macy.  I love ya.”  She leaned in, giving Macy a quick peck on the cheek.

“I love you too.  Please be careful.”

“I always do,” Anna said over her shoulder, already breaking into a jog to get back to her car.



She could be careful and still do her job.  Siren put her binoculars away and climbed down off the roof.  She wasn’t completely dependent on her powers.  She broke into a light run, stopping short behind a shipping container just outside of the light cast by the warehouse’s floodlights.  Pulling her mask down, she wiped sweat from her brow.  The April night air was cool, but between the wig, the mask, and the costume, she was really hot.  The green zirconium scale armor was surprisingly lightweight, and it would stop a bullet almost as well as Kevlar, in addition to being highly resistant to energy attacks.  Energy attacks seemed highly unlikely tonight, though the shiny green scales glinted in the light.  Her crimson leather vest, skirt, gloves and boots all seemed a little too obvious in the dark as well.  Her costume definitely wasn’t stealthy.  

She took a deep breath, putting her mask back on.  “You can do this,” she told herself, wishing that her power worked on herself, and she could magically give herself the little confidence boost she felt she needed.

She peaked around the side of the container, quickly finding all five of the guards she had spotted earlier.  One of them was waving and signaling to his compatriots, before turning and heading in her direction.  Their signals weren’t actual sign language, but as the guard approaching her started unzipping his pants, she surmised that he was stepping away to take a piss.  She crouched down, watching as he walked right up to the other side of the shipping container she was hiding behind.    

She tiptoed out from her hiding place, and when it dawned on her that he couldn’t hear her, she laughed out loud, breaking into a full sprint.  She slammed into him from behind, slamming his head into the metal container with a loud thunk, and he dropped to the ground in a puddle of his own piss, unconscious.

Siren looked over at the warehouse, but she was still mostly concealed by the shadows, and the guard’s hadn’t noticed their comrade’s fall.  She knelt behind a barrel, and a few minutes later the guards were making wild gestures before it seems they selected one of them to go check it out.  

Despite not being able to hear, the second guard was wary, and he spotted Siren coming out of the shadows at him.  He gave a cry of alarm, a cry his buddies couldn’t hear, and pulled his gun.  Siren grabbed his wrist, twisting it, loosening his grip.  She knocked the gun from his hand, and he took a swing at her, wincing as his fist hit her armor.  She grabbed his head, pulling his face down into her knee, and he slumped to the ground.

“Put your hands up.”  Siren froze, turning slowly to see the other three guards, all with their guns drawn and pointed at her.  

“Shit,” she said, raising her hands above her head.

“Call it in,” one of the guards said, forgetting that the other two couldn’t hear him.  He snapped his fingers, another useless attention grabbing technique, before smacking the other guard in the face.

“Ow, Jesus, what?” the guard that had just been hit exclaimed, lowering his gun.  He reached up, lifting one of the headphones from his ear.

“Take your headphones off!” Siren screamed, seeing her opportunity.

The guard immediately complied, not even aware of mistake he had just made.  The guard who had smacked him turned his attention back to Siren, taking the safety off of his gun.  “Stop him!” Siren commanded, and the guard turned and tackled the other guard.

The third one was watching, unsure of what to do.  Siren ran over to him pulling out her telescoping black fiberglass baton, and with a flick of the wrist, the weapon had extended to its full length.  She struck him across the wrist, sending his gun flying.  He brought his arms up to defend himself as she struck him again.  She hit him across the arms a few times.  She gasped in surprise as he caught the baton on it’s next strike, holding the weapon firmly.  They fought for it, and he tackled her.

Siren lost the baton in the struggle, and grabbed him, holding him close, preventing him from getting enough leverage to strike her with any real force as he struck her with her own weapon.  She managed to get a good hit in, punching him in the jaw.  He let go of her, and she rolled away, scrambling to her feet.  As he was trying to get up, she kicked him in the head and he slumped back to the ground.  

She sighed, winded.  She might be a little more out of shape than she wanted to admit.  Some cardio was definitely in her future.

The screams of the other two guards brought he back.  The one she had controlled was sitting on the other man’s chest, beating his face in with both fists.

“Stop!” she yelled, and he froze, his bloody fist poised for another strike.

“What have I done?” he asked, looking down in horror at his buddy’s broken and mangled face.  A choked sob escaped his throat.  Siren could see that he was barely more than a kid.

“It’s not your fault,” she said.  She wanted to console him, but she wasn’t sure if the guard he was beating on was even still alive.

“What did you make me do?” he screamed.

“I just, I just told you to stop him,” she said.  She felt like she was going to be sick.  Looking away, she knelt over the prone guard, reaching out and trying to feel for a pulse.  She jumped up as a wheezing cough came from the guard, and a fresh spurt of blood trickled from his mangled mouth.

“You need to call 911, tell them to send an ambulance.”

The kid dipped a bloody hand into his pocket and pulled out a cellphone.  He kept saying “What did I do?” over and over under his breath.

“It’s gonna be alright.  I can UUGHH!” Siren slumped forward, her body convulsing as electricity coursed through her body.  She fell over on her side, her eyes rolling back in her head as the wires from the Taser gun pumped 50,000 volts of electricity into the back of her neck.

The man holding the Taser flicked it off, walking over and grabbing the phone out of the kid’s hand, throwing it on the ground and stomping on it with a booted heel.

“I have to call 911!  I have to!” he cried, grabbing for it back.  The man pulled out a pistol, and put a bullet between the kid’s eyes.  He looked down at the guard on the ground, wheezing through his broken teeth.  The man put him out of his misery without hesitating.  

He kicked Siren’s prone form, rolling her onto her back.  He pointed the gun at her, staring down at the unconscious heroine.  He rubbed his finger across the trigger, and as if thinking better of it, he switched off the safety and put his gun away before stooping down and throwing the limp girl of his shoulder, and carrying her off.