Her whole body ached.  Siren had awakened slowly, feeling as if her muscles had been injected with lactic acid, and every little move she made, her body protested with a dull, throbbing pain.

She was tied to a chair.  Her hands were pulled uncomfortably behind the back of the chair and held there with rope.  A thick wooden dowel was crammed between her teeth so hard she felt like her jaw was in danger of becoming unhinged.  More rope encircled her chest, holding her fast to the chair, and her ankles were tied securely to the chair’s wooden legs.

She quickly discovered she was in a small room, empty save for her and the chair she was tied to.  A single dull incandescent light bulb illuminated the dingy space, hanging from a rusty metal fixture in the ceiling.  A single door was behind her, her neck aching as she strained to look back at it.

The last thing she remembered was telling the kid to call the cops.  That poor kid.  She had made him do that.  The memory of the guard’s face, beaten to a bloody pulp, and the horrified look on the kid’s face as he realized what he’d done.  What she’d made him do.  The nauseated feeling returned to the pit of her stomach as the guilt came washing over her again.  But now was not the time to feel bad about what she’d done.  Someone had gotten the drop on her while she was busy feeling guilty, and now she’d been captured.

She was still wearing her mask and wig, which was reassuring, but it likely only meant that whoever had captured her was saving that humiliation for when she was awake.  She didn’t see her baton anywhere, and if the knife she kept tucked in her boot was still there, she couldn’t see it, and she certainly couldn’t reach it.

The door opened behind her, and she jerked her head around, trickle of drool flying from her gagged mouth as she did.

“So this is the great Siren,” the man in the door said.  He was leaning casually in the doorframe, smoking a cigarette.  His jet back hair was slicked back, and he was wearing a leather jacket.  She recognized him immediately.  Donny Bianchi, one of Joey Digeorgio’s top lieutenants, possibly his right hand man.

He took a long drag on his cigarette as he came into the room, running his hand along her neck as he walked around in front of her.  She tried to lean away from his touch, but the ropes held her fast.

“You’ve caused a lot of trouble for my boss lately.”  He crouched down in front of her, blowing smoke in her face.  She turned her face to the side, sputtering around her gag as she tried to cough.  “A little washed up super heroine trying to get back in the game.  But the game has changed.  People don’t want a bunch of special people flying around, busting up crime whenever they feel like it.  It doesn’t make anyone feel safe, and you have to follow the rules like everyone else.

“But I sympathize with you, I really do.  I miss the good old days, when you guys could bust up anyone in the name of justice, with no worry about the law. You know why?”  He blew another cloud of smoke in her face.  “You all wore so much better costumes back then.  I mean, what is this?”  He ran his hand along her armor.  He grabbed the front of her vest, and with one jerk he ripped it open, exposing more of the green armor underneath.  “All the girls used to run around in bikinis, tits and asses all hanging out.  It made getting busted by a super heroine almost worth it.  But this,” he gestured at her.  “I mean, come on, where’s the skin?  Where’s the cleavage?  You certainly don’t have anything to be ashamed of.”

Siren blushed, and was for a moment grateful that she was tied up.  Stripping her further in this position was next to impossible.

“But alas, those days are over.  We traded skimpy outfits for rules placed on superheroes, and you’re breaking those rules.  Going all vigilante, without warrants or probable cause, and now I’ve got five dead men outside, and who’s going to answer for that?”

Siren had kept silent up until then, not wanting to give him the satisfaction trying to talk behind her gag and drool all over herself, but she couldn’t hold back anymore. She hadn’t killed anyone, and while she regretted what the kid had done to one of his fellow guards, they had all been alive when she was knocked out.  She screamed in rage, the words garbled by the thick bit in her mouth, spittle flying out and running down her chin and neck in thick streams as she strained against her bonds.

“You left me no choice.  Five guys, armed with knowledge that you might show up and a way to stop you from using your powers, and they still failed to stop one little girl.”

She glared at him over her gag, her chest heaving as she pulled with all her might against the ropes, but they held strong.

“I’d kill you too, but Joey wants you alive.  He’s a pretty twisted son of a bitch, I can only imagine the things he has planned for you.”  He took one last drag from the cigarette, and put the smoldering butt out on her neck.  She screamed in pain and bucked uselessly.  Fortunately, her neck was slick with her own drool, and it put the cigarette out quickly.  “But just because I can’t kill you, doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun myself first.”

Siren’s eyes went wide as he flipped up her skirt, exposing the leather shorts that held up her armored leggings.  He was interrupted by the sound of police sirens.

“Son of a bitch,” Donny muttered, leaving Siren and going towards the door.  He returned a moment later, holding a switchblade.  “Come on,” he said, slicing through the ropes holding her ankles.  “We gotta get out of here.”  He cut the ropes around her torso, leaving just her wrists bound behind her.  Donny reached under her arm and hoisted her out of the chair, dragging her towards the door.

Siren stumbled after him, his viselike grip on her arm forcing her to follow as he pulled her out of the room and down a dark hall towards a door with an exit sign above it.  Donny kicked open the door, and as he did, Siren dropped her shoulder into him, knocking him off balance.  He loosened his grip, and she pulled free.  Grunting into her gag, she head butted him in the chin, and he stumbled backwards, cursing.  Siren skirted through the open door into the night.  

She found herself standing in front of a railing overlooking a ten foot drop into some bushes.  The walkway extended in both directions down the length of the building.  To her right, the red and blue flashing lights signaled the arrival of the cops.  That way was out of the question.  She considered running to the left, but that’s the same direction that Donny would also be heading, and she could hear him coming out the door behind her.  She didn’t look back as she leaped up onto the railing and dove over the side.

Donny leapt to the railing, grabbing her ankle, but she was already falling, and he lost his grip on her boot.  Cursing his luck, he turned to the left and ran from the cops.

Siren landed with a crash in the bushes, her attempts to tuck and roll into the fall failing miserably, and she landed painfully on her shoulder.  Groaning, she rolled off of the bush poking into side and staggered to her feet.  Donny was long gone, but she could hear the shouts of the police officers as they made their way into the building.  Still gagged and with her hands tied behind her, she made her way through the underbrush, away from the building.

She made her way through the small but dense patch of woods, stumbling out onto a gravel access road.  Exhausted, she sat down at the edge of the road, leaning against a stump, breathing hard around her gag.  She would definitely have to work on her cardio.  Running with a gag in her mouth was not an easy task.

She sat up sharp as she heard the sound of footsteps on the gravel, looking around.  A lone figure was walking up the road towards heard in slow, easy steps.  Almost sidling up to her, she thought, squinting in the low light as she made out the Stetson sitting atop the figures head.

“Gaa agg?” she asked through her gag, struggling back up to her feet.  As he got closer, she could hear the jingle of the spurs on his dusty old cowboy boots.  He tipped his hat as he approached.

“You were supposed to retire,” he said, stopping just short of her.  The man looked like he’d just wandered out of an old western movie, missing only the revolvers from the empty holsters at his side.  His name was Israel “Izzy” Leblanc, and he served on the Legendary Consortium under the name Barrage.  Siren had never understood the Frenchman’s fascination with the American Cowboy, but he had embraced the motif, and for the most part, it served him well, and he definitely looked the part.

“Are you hurt?” he asked her, eying the ripped vest.  She shook her head, grunting unintelligibly into her gag.

“Sorry Anna, I’m gonna leave you gagged for a moment.  We need to talk, and by we, I mean, me, and I don’t need you interrupting me or trying to tell me what to do.”

She glared at him, but wasn’t really surprised.  This was sadly not a first.

“You’ve caught the LC’s attention.  You’re starting to get a lot of people’s attention, apparently, and that’s not good.  People don’t want super heroes solving crime anymore, they want the police to do it, even when the police can’t, or won’t.  If this thing you’ve started gets any more attention, the LC’s gonna step in, and it won’t be to help you.”

Siren sighed.  This was unexpected, but again, not surprising.  She wondered if they had sent Barrage to get her to stop, or he’d come of his own volition.  

“Come here,” he said.  He turned her around, pointing a finger at the ropes holding her wrists.  A blast of kinetic energy tore through the ropes, and they fell in a heap behind her.  She reached up and grabbed for the strap holding the dowel between her teeth.

“Ugh,” she spat as she pulled the soaked wood from her mouth.  There were teeth marks scored deep into its surface.  “You’ve been following me?” she asked as she worked her jaw.

“Figured I aught to make sure you didn’t go and get yourself killed.”

“I can handle myself,” she said, rubbing her wrists.

“Clearly, that’s why I found you out in the middle of nowhere, tied up and gagged.”

“I got away, didn’t I?  Did you really come all this way just to warn me the LC’s not happy with me?”

Barrage shrugged.  “I came to find out if you’re really willing to see this through.”

“And if I am?  Are you going to stop me?”

“No, not tonight.  I will tell you to hurry up, kid.  And to make sure it sticks.  A confession from this guy because you told him to isn’t going to cut it, and it’s gonna open up a whole new shit storm.  Tell me you have a plan.”

She opened her mouth, and then closed it again.  Izzy had always had a way of getting under her skin, even when what he was actually saying was perfectly logical.  She took a moment to compose herself before saying something stupid.  “I’ve got something.  I’ll bring this guy down Izzy.”  She didn’t have a plan, not yet, but she had the first inklings of one.

He nodded.  “Good.  Get it done.  Don’t fuck this up kid.”  He turned, and started to walk away into the night.

A slow boiling anger was building up inside her as she watched him amble away into the shadows.  Logically, the LC’s new direction as a law abiding organization made sense, but it was a slap in the face to what being a super hero meant.  And Izzy, despite all his flaws, had been better than that.  Or so she had thought.

“You used to have a soul,” she called after him.

He stopped, sighing.  “What was that?”

“You used to care.  You were always lazy, but when there was a problem, you stepped up and took care of it.  Now you’re just the LC’s lapdog.”

He turned back to her.  “I didn’t make the rules.  It sucks what happened to you, and as lazy as you might think I am, I never envied you being forced out of the life.  But this is the way things are now, and in order to fight the big battles, the ones that really matter, we have to let the small stuff go.”

“There is no small evil.  This guy needs to be stopped as much as any super villain, and I’m going to do it, and I’m not going to let you or the LC stop me.”

Izzy shook his head.  “Good luck, kid.”  He turned and left, not looking back.

Siren watched him disappear into the night, her fists clenched.  



It took her an hour to find her way back to town and make it back to her apartment.  She was still angry and now very exhausted, and all she wanted to do was collapse in her bed.  Her apartment was still trashed from last night’s break in; she hadn’t had time to clean anything up.  Macy had offered to come over and help clean up, but she’d rejected the offer, still worried she was being watched.

She climbed the fire escape behind her building, her arms screaming in agony as she pulled herself up to her window on the third floor.  She slipped inside the window, fumbling around for the light in her kitchen.

A gasp escaped her lips as she flicked on the light.  Her kitchen was spotless. At first she thought maybe her apartment being ransacked had been a bad dream, but she saw where the leg of her table had been nailed back on, as well as a cracked cabinet door.  She made her way into the living room, finding all her furniture put back in it’s place.  The cushions were still shredded, but the stuffing had been stuffed back inside, and they were shoddily sewn back together.  The TV was still sporting a large crack down the front of it, and when she experimentally flicked it on, she found that three quarters of the screen still worked.

She found the same thing in her bedroom.  Her bed had been put back together and neatly made.  Everything had been put back in order under her bed, and her dresser had been righted and her clothes all put away.

“Macy,” she said, torn between elated and furious.  She hadn’t felt the need to order her sister not to come here, figuring the polite refusal and expressed concern for her safety would be enough.  She’d have to give her a piece of her mind, but later.  Now, she needed to sleep.  She shed her costume and armor, forming a trail of clothing from the bathroom and back before she collapsed on top of the bed in her underwear, not even bothering to pull down the sheets.  She was asleep within seconds.