Madness At Noon {COMPLETED}

Kiss and Make Up 3/3

If the path of destruction had not been completely obvious, the entire world knew where Belladonna had built her nest. Perpetual storm clouds choked the skies above the Old Docks. Once Vexus City had had a thriving port, positioned strategically at the crossroads of three major rivers: the Gothet, the Batter, and the Jokkil Rivers. However, the port also just happened to be the most convenient place to dispose of a body and it did not take long before the economic boom disintegrated into a criminal graveyard.

The wind hissed through the crumbling walls of over a dozen abandoned warehouses, used now only for hostage situations, meetings of the most sinister types, formal dinner parties, or hiding a superhero before killing him. Beneath the rotting floorboards, the rivers were calling. A quick splash, a few bubbles, and the waves would swallow a sinking body. What the gray waters took, they kept.

Westly had kindly provided a change of clothes more suitable to the task at hand.

Great man, Westly. He was extremely charitable, owned a very extensive C4 collection, and was a wizard at baking soufflés. The man had seven ex-wives. After killing three of them, I had earned his undying loyalty. It pays to have good connections who will put off blowing up the Royal Palace to rush you a new pair of shoes.

Of course, I had to wear my best outfit to impress if I was to encounter the one and only Gentleman, great hero of our city. A formal gown was no longer appropriate without a formal dinner, so I slipped into something much more casual: a skin tight, red-ruby evening dress, rubber, of course, twinkling with gems of fire and a veil of gold over my hair and face. The dress covered the parts of my body that needed to be covered, but no more, gripping to me tighter than my own skin. My porcelain mask had been polished as bright as a silver star, just for this occasion, and covered my entire face – a woman must have her air of mystery.

Could there be weapons tucked inside the tight, tight dress? Perhaps strapped to my legs or arms or neck or resting beside my breasts?

How rude it is to ask a lady such a thing.

There was a gaping hole in the wall facing the river, large enough for a young lady to slip through. The edges of the fractured wooden planks were charred and still smoking. Glistening on a jagged splinter was a single drop of red blood. I swiped my finger across the black wood and licked it. The sweet, sweet taste burst on my tongue. I closed my eyes and suppressed a moan. I would know that flavor anywhere.

"Found you." The corners of my lips twitched as I stepped into the dark.

The scent of blood was overpowering. It was unnaturally hot inside the warehouse as if someone had left the oven on for a very, very long time. One match and this place would go up in a flash. Bits of wood, rusted coils of chain, and melted sheets of plastic littered the ground. Old cargo nets dangled from the ceiling, many still full of rotting shipping crates. Other than the burnt hole and a few patches in the tin roof, there was no light. But I work best in the dark. It is a lady's gift to be of the night.

Belladonna was not at home. But her prize was.

My heart stopped when I saw him. Bruised, bleeding, strung up with rusted chains, the Gentleman was as good as dead. But he wasn't. No. Because only I was allowed to kill him. Not her. Not that tramp.

His beautiful white suit had been ripped and torn and splattered with blood, both his and another's. There were burn marks on his arms and chest. His mask was torn but still covered the top half of his face. His lips were untouched.

Covered in sweat he hung limp, possibly unconscious. I purposely kicked an iron rod. It clanged loudly, the sound echoing. The Gentleman flinched and swayed in his chains.