Stolen Shadows

15 - It Was a Bad Idea

Sophie got home late that night. She turned on the news, collapsed in an armchair, and poured a glass of bourbon. She was exhausted—she hadn't slept for 36 hours—but her mind was too active for her to get any peace and quiet. The news kept her engaged enough. After word got out that the NYPD had arrested the vigilante (or, someone claiming to be the vigilante) the city had rallied. The people wanted the vigilante free. Sophie couldn't blame them; the police had been getting plenty of heat recently—Sophie, a Black woman as part of the force, had attended more than one BLM protest herself—and the vigilante was doing something about the gangs, something the police had failed for years to get under control. The truth was the vigilante was a symbol of hope and justice, and it was exactly what the people needed.

But Sophie knew who was underneath that hood. And she couldn't let Addison get herself killed, even for this. Sophie knew she wanted to take down one of the gangs, and she couldn't blame her. But did she have to do it this way? Did she have to jeopardize her life and her career?

Sophie took another sip of bourbon, the liquid warm as it went down.

Suddenly, her apartment shook, as if someone had dropped an anvil right next to her. Sophie bolted upright, setting down her glass. What the hell was that? she thought.

She waited, but nothing else came. She got to her feet and crossed to the window. As she moved to pull back the curtain, the news caught her attention.

"Breaking news," the reporter announced. "We're getting reports of an explosion that occurred just moments ago..."

Sophie yanked the curtain back. She stared at the sight before her. A few blocks away, a building had burst into flames. She could hear sirens as firetrucks sped towards the fire. It was a smaller building, a few stories tall, and the flames had already reached the roof. It was pouring out, sheets of rain hitting the window, but the fire hardly wavered. The flames were interesting colors, oranges and reds but also blues and greens. Almost like... chemicals were fueling it. Sophie got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She kept the curtain drawn and turned back to the news.

She was right; a few minutes later they reported a chemical explosion. It was likely another drug lab. Sophie sank into the armchair, elbows on her knees. What if Addison...

No. She wouldn't be that foolish, to go out again so early. Right?

Sophie stayed like that for a short time, trying to stay awake as the news covered the fire. Finally, the firemen managed to control it, and the flames were extinguished. Sophie muted the TV and rubbed her face in her hands. She needed sleep. She should head to bed, especially with the onslaught they'd be getting tomorrow—

A knock sounded at her door.

Sophie jumped to her feet, startled. She waited, but the knock didn't come again. She crept to the door, grabbing her gun from the kitchen counter and slipping it into her waistband.

She pulled the door open and gasped. "What are you—"

Sophie cut herself off. The vigilante was leaning against the doorway, rain dripping off what remained of her leather suit. Patches had been burned away, revealing raw skin beneath. She had one hand wrapped around her waist, clutching her side. In the dim light of Sophie's front door, she could see the blood seeping between Addison's fingers.

"I... I didn't know where else to go," she rasped. And then she collapsed.

Sophie lunged forward, catching her on the way to the ground. "Hey," she shook Addy's shoulders. "Stay with me. Stay awake."

Addison forced her eyes open. The rain stung against her exposed skin. She couldn't feel her side anymore; the absence of the pain scared her even more.