Devil's Wrath

Part 4

Thunder cracked and roared above Gotham City as the rain pelted down upon those unfortunate enough to still be outside. Just like a certain woman of rotund weight ambling through the heavy rain, a paper bag full of groceries in one hand, and a newspaper over head, blocking the rain. Or, at least, trying to. "Course it rains when I don't have my umbrella." She muttered. "But If I had it, then it wouldn't rain." As she muttered to herself, she tripped her foot in a chunk of missing pavement. She looked at the rain-filled hole her shoe was currently occupying and cursed. "That's no way for a mommy to speak." Her breath hitched as she slowly craned her head to a doorway. In the pitch black darkness, a red visor shined through. Her breathing became uneven as the mutants hands reached for her. "No, please!" She pleaded. They fell on deaf ears as the mutant forcefully grabbed and dragged her towards the windowed door. She kept trying to beg for mercy, but the hand over her mouth muffled any kind of bargain or plead she could make. "Need you, mommy. talk softly. Make me feel safe." As she saw the knife rise up, she realized that this was her end. She squeezed her eyes shut and started praying to whatever or whoever was listening.

It happened so fast. In the span of three seconds, the glass behind them shattered, a hand grabbed the mutants knife-wielding hand, then his chest, before being dragged into the abyss, howling and screaming in pain and pure terror. The rotund woman was on her side as her ragged breathing calmed. She slowly pulled herself upright and looked through the shattered remains of glass, seeing blood splattering the ground and walls. She was frozen rigid, unable to move and unable to avert her eyes. The one thing that was constant in her mind was one singular question, "What happened?"

*  *  *  *

A cab driver was doing his usual rounds, pulling up to a sidewalk as he scratched his bearded face. The backdoor of his car was pulled open and a lady of the night was unceremoniously thrown in. "Get in, bitch, we're takin' a ride." A man of African-American descent said. He was dressed in a clean white suit, a white coat with white-and-black fur trimming along the collar, and a black button-up. "P-please, silk, not the face." The prostitute sobbed. "You're painin' me, Joanie." He softly said, then pulled out a switchblade, "You're costing me my livelihood." The cabby sat in the front seat frozen stiff, scared out of his mind. Does he try and help her? Should he just bury his head in the sand and just drive the pimp to the next corner. He swallowed the lump in his throat and gathered the courage, "H-hey, take this somewhere else, I just cleaned the car." Not the most intimidating thing to say, but if it could buy him just a few minutes to call the police, then it could save him, the working girl, and throw away a despicable man. That's what he thought until a large stack of cash was thrown onto the dashboard. "Shut your hairy face and drive." The pimp spat. The cab driver tentatively grabbed and stammered out where he would like to go. "5th and main." The cabby started counting the dollar bills, his eyes going larger and larger as he saw each one was a fifty-dollar note.

The prostitute yelped and her sobbing intensified. "Look at that, Joanie, you want and grew a new nostril." A loud thump rock the car, the cab driver instinctively flinched before squeezing his eyes open, "The hell was that?" He exclaimed. "Someone's on the roof." Silk traded out his switchblade for a pistol. "Someone thinks they can mess with me." He started to lean out the window, only for him to scream as his hand gets crushed by a foot, the pistol dropping to the floor. He pulled himself back into the car, clutching his malformed hand. He thought he was safe in their. He thought wrong. A bandaged fist punched through the car ceiling, grabbed onto his suit lapels, and dragged him out, changing the fist-sized hole into a man-sized hole. Joanie saw it all and panicked, flinging the car door open and ran away. The punches echoed from each hit, sounding like ear splitting booms of thunder. the cab drivers car wouldn't start, like it was afraid. Or maybe, a few key wires were pulled out of their needed spots. "C'mon c'mon c'mon, start already."He kept jerking the key, pressing in the gas petal, and again and again, there was nothing. Something was thrown onto the hood, the cabby yelping from the suddenness of it.