Guns & Stilettos

Glass Fist

Jessica walked down the street debating food and sleep. A sudden violent buzzing in her front pocket pulled her out of my wishful thinking. After a minute's struggle she pulled out her phone and checked the screen. The contact name "Favorite Idiot" and a picture of her brown haired, friend (and colleague) lying on the floor laughing were on display.

Jess picked up with a sigh. "Hey stupid"

"Hey weirdo! Enjoyed knocking heads together?", the familiar energetic voice of Ben asked.

She scoffed, and replied tiredly ,"Of course I did, but if I'm honest I'm rather looking forward to just stuffing my face with food and collapsing into bed"

Ben laughed, " Listen, I'm sorry to say that the real reason I called is you have another assignment. I know it's sudden but you are just closer to the scene than anyone else we have right now. 12 Michigan Avenue is the adress. You have full clearance. It's human trafficking. I'll send you the specs. Oh and do me a favor and come back alive please."

Jessica frowned, "Fine— I'm only doing this for only for you— so be grateful that I love you bro!"

She put down the phone and broke into a run. Her boots clicked loudly against the pavement as she sprinted down the streets, lungs burning like wildfire. Eventually Jess turned a corner and the building came into view. She slowed to a halt. Paint was peeling off the crumbling walls and a solid wooden door was probably the only sturdy thing about the place. Approaching it slowly she got a closer look.

Grime coated the building like a shell— the windows were greasy and litter was strewn across the ground; occasionally shifting with the wind. Using the sleeve of her hoodie, Jess wiped away some of the dark grease and peered through the window that was closest to the ground. It appeared to lead to basement.

With an almighty bang a man stumbled out of what looked like the stairwell. He was dragging a crying girl across the floor. She had a wild tangle of brown hair and must have only been about six years old.

Jessica pulled back and looked down at her sleeve (now coated in a unknown substance) with a cringe. Gross. She drew a gun and tried the door. Locked. Jess slammed her shoulder against it, in the hope that flinging her full weight against it would unhinge it. It didn't budge .

She moved back to the window. Jessica could pick the the lock but time was of the essence. She needed to move and fast. Screw picking locks. She drew back her arm balling her hand into a fist. Closing her eyes Jess threw as much strength as she could into the punch and smashed the window.

Glass shards flew everywhere. Jessica pulled back her arm, it was shredded and covered in quickly flowing blood . With little pieces of glass embedded here and there. It was going to hurt like hell when the adrenaline rush wore off.

Wiping her hand off on her jeans, she drew the other gun and slithered through the window feet first. Dropping into a crouch Jess surveyed her surroundings. Two men were running at her from both sides. Holding both arms out to the side she shot them each in the knee and grabbed their guns— slipping them into her pockets.

The man who was dragging the girl ran at her firing. Jessica ducked behind a desk , the wood splintering around her as bullets buried themselves in the rotting timber. She stood up, quick as a flash and fired. Both bullets find their mark, one in each thigh. He howled in pain dropping his gun and fell to the floor. Jess picked up the gun and added it to the rest.

"You madwoman! Who the hell do you think you are!", he screeched. Jessica smiled at him

"Living breathing justice," she purred.