Catburglars, Inc

Amaya, Meet Isabella

Isabella knelt on her own living room floor, as her arms were yanked upwards, creating a 'v' shape behind her back. The intruder would not let Isabella see her face, having tied a dishrag over her eyes, subjected her to mostly disorienting darkness.

"Owwwwww!" Isabella yelped softly, as her arms were pulled close in the uncomfortable position. She does do yoga with Becky(the reporter had just started, Isabella was teaching her) but she hadn't tried anything like this yet. Besides, she didn't know if there was anything quite like this pose in yoga.

"Quit your whining, sugar," A young female voice said.

Isabella felt her thumbs, of all things, being cinched as her hands were pressed palm to palm together in a praying gesture. "Why my thumbs?" She asked calmly. No sense getting upset.

"Because last victim I did the pinky fingers, pretty teacher," the voice giggled suddenly.

"Hhh-how do you know I'm a teacher?" Isabella's voice trembled slightly. Was Mrs. Calder behind this? Had she done something to make her angry? Isabella tried to be nice to Mrs. Calder, not because of fear, but because she believed in forgiveness and moving ahead with things in life. Even though now she was a tied up celebrity on YouTube.

"A little nervous now, are we?" the voice said haughtily, "Don't worry though, I won't hurt you, just restrain you and take a few things." The girl fastened rope around Isabella's wrists and forearms, taking pleasure in making it cruelly tight. The rope felt soft as it dug into her smooth medium tan skin.

"Please! Does it have to be that tight?" Isabella grumbled in her light Spanish accent.

Suddenly her blindfold was ripped away and Isabella was staring at a girl, of all things. She couldn't have been more than nineteen if a day. Her short silky black hair, and skin color, suggested to Isabella she was Asian. A black domino mask and a leather catsuit? Must be some kind of burglar. The girl grinned down at Isabella, enjoying her obvious discomfort.

"Honey, I suggest you quiet it down a tad, or I'll have to do something about that lovely protesting voice."

"How about you let me go, and I won't call the police?" Isabella put as much authority in the question as she could. She really did not want to get tied up again and left helpless for hours.

A snicker was met with her comment.

Isabella sighed, but said no more as the catburglar folded her legs and ankles against her thighs, then looped more rope around her chest and arms, forming a type of 'harness', similar to one of those safety harnesses her brother wore while roofing.

"What exactly are you doing to me?" Isabella kept her voice even, hoping that reason would work on her.

"Tying you up," the black clad girl snorted, "What else?"

"No, I mean why like this? If you're just here to rob me, than why not tie my hands and feet, take my valuables, then leave?"

"Oh this is all part of the fun, dearie," the burglar finished tying the teacher's legs, then straightened up, looking around. "Besides, you enjoy yoga." As if that explained everything.

Isabella sighed quietly, there had to be a way to reason with this girl. She thought of something, "If it's money you want, for food, clothes, or whatever, I can get some out at an ATM. I know what it's like to need things."

To her surprise, the catburglar began laughing. She sat down on the seat of Isabella's couch, shoulders shaking, her right hand pressed against her stomach.

Isabella watched her for a moment, than began trying to wiggle away, albeit in a frog march.

Immediately the catburglar was off the couch and right up in Isabella's face. No mirth was on her face at this point.

Isabella could see the girl had brown eyes. She stared right back at her, wanting to gauge her reaction.

"That's a naughty thing for an esteemed teacher to do, trying to escape. We're just getting ready to have some fun. You can call me Amaya, it means 'night rain' in Japanese," she stood up again, and backed several feet away to grab something.

"I always wanted to learn Japanese, but I did not get the chance," Isabella glanced down at the ropes restraining her, realizing they were her exercise jump ropes. "Those are my training ropes," Isabella stated.

"Yes they are," Amaya smirked. She ripped the dish towel that had been Isabella's blindfold, than tied a large knot in it. "I think you've said enough, I hope this dish towel is organic, 'cause looking around, you're definitely a health nut."

Isabella frowned at the slam, but obligingly opened her mouth. Amaya appeared almost..... disappointed at her lack of response? Isabella almost smiled as the knot was unceremoniously crammed into her mouth. She had no choice but to bite down on the rougher material, at least, compared to the ropes. Isabella grunted softly as she felt the knot cinched behind her head.

"Iiissssss dissshsh nesssceserrryyy?"

"I think it's a perfect fit for you," Amaya giggled, back to being the playful sounding burglar.

Isabella politely shook her head, hoping for one last chance to reason with her.

Amaya casually picked up a pillow, and went into the kitchen.

Isabella raised an eyebrow, what was this girl up to now?

The diminutive Japanese girl returned, holding a knife.

Isabella gave a startled yelp. What was she going to do?


**********************************


A high rise building in downtown Manchester.

The man known to many as The Urban Professional stared out the spotless glass window of his building.

His building. Known to many more as Robert Trombone, he was quite a respected businessman in the city. He eased back in his wing tipped, leather back chair in brooding contemplation. Yes, he owned many businesses, yes he had his fingers in various aspects of the criminal underworld, and yes he was greatly respected and feared in said criminal underworld.

He wanted more.

The Alfonsis' were his main competition these days, a fact that both annoyed and disturbed him. His idiot brother still attempted to run that Catburglars, Inc operation that had turned into a failure years ago. And now, thanks to some intel, he found the place. Allan would have to move. He grinned, his fleshy face stretching into a wide grin. Allan had to love the Star Wars themed message he sent. There was a hidden message in there, anyone familiar with the franchise would catch it. Robert Trombone was without a doubt intimately familiar with Star Wars. He shifted his bulk in his chair. He is five feet eleven inches, and two hundred fifty pounds. Most of its muscle, but there's a fair amount of excess stuff that no dares remind him of. The last time someone had done that, Rob had laughed nervously, then ordered the guy who insulted him to be encased alive in concrete.
A close enough comparison to carbonite. Except this guy would never be waking up. Fucking Han Solo.

He glanced at some papers that had been delivered earlier to him. A summary of recent happenings in Manchester. His balding pate gleamed in the recessed lighting of his luxury office. Beady eyes that looked black sped down the pages. He could read thirteen hundred words a minute. JFK had nothing on him. His fat lips smacked together in contemplation.

Shit was going to hit the fan, and it wouldn't be his fan.

The Outlander. Some new do gooder who dressed in black and ran around like he was a private eye/vigilante type. Rob didn't know much about this asshole, but he sure wasn't worried about him. His men would find him soon enough, whoever this 'Outlander' was, he had a name, and Rob would find out.
Becky Carter. A fairly new reporter at MDT who was up and coming, and was apparently investigating the Alfonsi family. As long as she didn't go near him, he would leave her alone. Not many people outside the criminal underworld knew of his Urban Professional moniker. According to sources, Miss Carter did not know.
He smiled. That meant Maggie Swift had kept her mouth shut. Good. All was as it should be on that front. Let this upstart reporter take on the Alfonsis'. Maybe she could bring them down, doubtful, but if she did it would be to his advantage.
And his big brother Allan. Holy hell was he tired of him. And yet he wasn't. Allan was a blood relative after all. Still, it was time for big brother to step down and let the big boys play. If you can't run with the big dogs then stay on the fucking porch. He might have added a word or two.

Those were the main players, unless somebody else decided to join the party. He really only considered the Alfonsis' to be the real threats.

Ahh but the city. Rob twirled his chair, and gazed out the window. Manchester was coming to life, as was its custom toward early evening. Street lamps lit up, people were walking around, appearing to be no more than ants from his position. Ahh, this city.

His city.


*********************************


"SSSSSTTTTTMMMMMMMMMMMM!"

Isabella squealed, giggling so hard her sides hurt. She clenched her eyes shut, trying to will the ticklish feeling away.

Amaya had used the knife to cut open the pillow, pulling out its soft stuffing, and the catburglar made a makeshift feather out of it, explaining that she wanted to try tickling some of her captives in the future. Duct tape had been wrapped around Isabella's mouth and head, over her knotted gag to muffle her cries better. Probably for added insurance so the neighbors wouldn't hear. Thankfully most of it had been kept out of her hair.

Amaya finally paused from running the soft, fluffy texture against Isabella's bare feet. The teacher moaned in relief, a break!
Her arms were extremely sore and Isabella felt cramps coming on. Even her thumbs hurt..

"Cccnnnnnnnn ooooommmmmm ppppppllllsssss sssssstttttttmmm?" the Hispanic woman once again tried to reason with her. Isabella was as diplomatic as they came, at least her friends always told her so. She looked hopefully back over her shoulder at the catsuited burglar.

Amaya grinned back, holding up the roll of tape now.

Isabella frowned, her cheeks turning red. She did not want more tape stuck on her. It felt so sticky and the tape was ruining her perfectly applied skin cream, not to mention what it was doing to her lips. A few rising streaks of anger coursed through her.

"Nnnnnnnnmmmmm!" She commanded in what she hoped was an authoritative voice.

Amaya approached her, it looked like she was going to put it over her eyes! Isabella grunted angrily, not her eyelashes! She took so good care of her body, it was an insult to her to be treated thus.

"Amaya," A calm, even voice, with a tone of greeting.

From Isabella's vantage point, she saw Amaya's face. The catburglar looked as if she had seen a ghost. Her face was white as a sheet.

She dropped the roll of tape.


*********************************


Amaya turned around, hoping against hope it was him.

It was.

"OWEN!" Amaya screamed at the top of her lungs. She darted forward, wrapping her arms around the black clad figure.

"Amaya!" Owen wrapped her in a vicious bear hug, sounding really happy to see her.

Amaya herself fought back tears, unusual for her, as she buried her face in his shoulder. Owen was just about the only friend she had. Amaya wasn't exactly popular girl crowd material, and the fact that her family is so filthy rich isolates her from most people in society. That and Owen had taken her in, Violet too.

Her mind took her back again, as it had been doing several times in the past forty eight hours, to memories......

Three years ago.

"Are you ready Amaya?" Owen grinned at her, his form looked more muscular than it actually was in the catsuit. He wore a black beanie, covering his dark brown hair. A black domino mask hid part of his face.

Amaya's smirk was so wide she figured her face would split. She was out on the town with Owen and Violet! The two people who took her in when she needed it most. Her surrogate Uncle and Aunt. Who also happened to be the best burglars at CI, or, Catburglars, Inc. Allan Trombone, the president of CI had tasked them with doing a job on this mansion that made the Gates look like they should have sold Microsoft years ago, and do whatever these people were doing. The security was high here, and there were guards. However two of them were trussed up and gagged, courtesy of Violet.

The African-American woman held tightly to Owen's hand, clad in a leather catsuit that showed off her body. Her long, silky purple hair fell loosely around her shoulders, with a black watch cap on her head. Her face was concealed by the trademark black domino mask. She leaned in close to Owen, and their lips met.

"Awww come on you guys! You really gotta do old people stuff right now?!" Amaya was dressed in similar attire while she gestured at the second story window she had to reach.

They broke away, and Owen grinned crookedly at her, "Old people stuff? I'm twenty-four, Kidd."

He always called Amaya 'Kidd.' Adding that extra 'd' for emphasis. She secretly loved it, but pretended not to.

"Uh-huh. Old man. Anyone over the age of twenty-one is old to me. And it's 'Amaya'."

"Yup. Well, Kidd, if you hadn't eaten that double strawberry malt before we came, maybe you wouldn't have the energy of your boyfriend Spiderman," Owen smirked.

"Spider-Man, he gets a hyphen, dork. You make it sound like a surname, which is an insult. And he's a fictional character, so he can't be my boyfriend. No superpowers in the real world."

"I think you, childish Amaya Takahashi, still secretly wish for them like that first time we found you on the rooftop," Owen said in an announcer's voice.

Violet stirred off Owen's shoulder, "Can we get a move on? There's more people that need to be tied up," She said dreamily, then smiled a little.

Violet was usually the more sober one. If Owen and Amaya kept teasing and trading insults, they would be at it all night. Amaya loved both of them for who they were.

"Sure honey," Owen and Violet clasped hands together, then knelt on the ground.

Amaya knew what to do. She backed up a couple feet, then darted forward at full speed. She gracefully put one foot on the clasped hands, then leapt simultaneously as Owen and Violet pulled upwards with all their strength. Amaya flew through the air, a moment of weightlessness, a feeling of freedom, and her hands reached out, and grasped the brick molding below the window. She went over the numbers in her head as she picked the window lock. Roughly twenty feet in two stories, Amaya was a little over five feet, Owen and Violet got her about ten feet in the air, between their height and force momentum. That meant she had to jump a little less than five feet.(her outstretched arms helped. It took all she had to do it, but they had practiced many times, and all three of them worked well together as a well oiled machine.

Exactly seven and a half minutes later they were in the master bedroom of the couple, who were in their thirties.

They were tied hand and foot, with ripped up bed sheets that had been twisted into thin, strong cord. Violet was excellent at improvising, and had then gleefully stuffed a huge ball gag into the woman's mouth after finding it under the bed. Seems they had a few secrets. Owen made the man tell them the safe combination, and any other hidden places for valuables, then wrapped a golf ball up in a small pillowcase, and gagged the man with it.
While Owen and Violet did their restraining work, Amaya had gathered up anything of value in a small waterproof sack every CI member carried. She came back into the bedroom, only to find Owen and Violet passionately kissing while the couple moaned angrily at being treated in such an undignified manner. They picked uselessly at each other's bonds, while Amaya stared at Owen and Violet.

She cleared her throat.

Owen jumped, pulling away from Violet. Violet stared at Amaya like she spit on their shoes.

"Hey Kidd, back already?"

"Yeah, are CI members supposed to be kissing and getting distracted on the job by their undying love for one another?" Amaya asked sarcastically.

"Weeeellll, it's a grey area, and truth be told, Violet and I have been thinking of moving on from CI. We're ready for some new adventures," Owen blurted out.

"WHAT!?" Amaya shouted, her heart sank. Not her two favorite people in the world! They had taught her everything, her martial arts skills, thievery, and just about every other survival skill a burglar needed to know. How to avoid leaving evidence, such as wearing gloves, caps over the scalp, no hair, no DNA, etc. And they had helped her when she needed it the most. Now they wanted to leave?

"Owen!" Violet reproved, "I thought we weren't going to say anything?"

Owen glanced at his mate, "I can't not say anything, my southern belle. Kidd is like the kid sister I never had."

"I'm going with you." Amaya stated, folding her arms across her chest.

Violet smiled almost tenderly at her, "I don't think you can go where we're going, Kid."

"AAGGGGGMMMMMMFF!" The woman screamed into her gag from the bed.

Amaya ignored everything as she got a surreal feeling. They were leaving?

No, they couldn't, she--


Present Day.

Amaya pulled back from Owen, and slapped him hard across the cheek. "And you just left!"

Owen's face was covered with a black bandana tied across his face, complete with a plain baseball cap, leather jacket, black tee shirt, cargo pants, and tactical boots. All of it was black in color. Amaya could tell the slap didn't hurt him as much as her words did.

"It wasn't that simple, Ama-"

"Yes it was!" Her voice rose hysterically, "You and Violet abandoned me! Do you have any idea how that feels? Do you?" She demanded.

Owen raised his hands, then quickly caught Amaya's wrist as she tried to slap him again. "Listen to me, Amaya, there was a lot going on at the time, between Allan and his brother, myself and Violet, and a ton of other problems."

"Yeah, speaking of which, the Urban Professional sent us a message, 'get the hell out, or we'll all die'!" Amaya was feeling the stress, with the events from the last couple of days. In truth she was glad to see him, she really needed someone to talk to. And she missed him! Many conflicting emotions coursed through her.

"Mmrgssffmmpp!"

Amaya's attention was diverted as she saw Isabella had fallen to the floor, trying to wiggle away.

"Oh no you don't!" Amaya casually pressed her petite foot on the small of Isabella's squirming back. The beautiful teacher moaned.

Owen watched her, his face unreadable behind the black cloth tied over his mouth and nose.

"So I heard you've been busy, busting up drug rings, taki-"

"Hold on Kidd." Owen raised a hand, "Shutting down a two man meth lab is hardly a 'drug ring'. I'm one man, and I can only do so much. It was dangerous enough, lucky for me one of them was doped up."

"Always the false modesty of an old man," Amaya couldn't help herself, old habits coming back.

Owen held up both hands, "How many times must I tell you, Kidd, twenty-seven is hardly old."

"Anyone over twenty-one," Amaya was so happy to have him around again, she let the 'Kidd' remark slide.

"What are you going to do with her?" Owen gestured at the still squirming Isabella, who was moaning in pleading tones.

"Leave her. Someone will come along. Let's go somewhere to talk."

"LLLLLLMMMMMMGGGGGGGMMMMMMMM!" Isabella screamed unhappily, as she desperately shook her head.

Owen nodded, but seemed hesitant, "You sure you shouldn't make her a little more comfortable? She didn't do anything after all."

"Nah, she does yoga, and it won't kill her. You getting soft on me?" Amaya chuckled.

Owen simply nodded again, silent.

Amaya frowned, this was new. Owen almost always had a quip. He seemed more sober, subdued even.

She stepped lightly on Isabella's back, making the woman let out an undignified squeal.

Amaya giggled, not able to keep it in. "Then let us be off!" she pointed an arm outwards, as if she was some explorer. Amaya thought she saw a hint of a smile behind Owen's eyes, but it vanished.

"Byeeee, Isabella!"

Isabella shook her head again, not wanting to be left helplessly bound and gagged.


**********************************


"So where the hell is Violet? Why the fuck did you leave? Do you know how much trouble I'd get in if CI found out you're around, and I knew about it?" Amaya blurted out all the questions that had been burning in her mind since seeing him.

They were sitting on the roof of a six story building, on the ledge, side by side, legs dangling over the edge. The both of them were used to heights.
Owen had pulled down the bandanna now it was just the two of them, and Amaya yanked her domino mask down around her neck. He had a beard, which made his face look less thin. His hazel eyes were dark. Owen sighed, and Amaya felt his shoulders slump from his position next to her. "I think Violet killed someone."

His words hit her like a bucket of ice water. Violet? Kill? No way. She glanced sideways at him, "Not Violet. Not a chance."

Owen nodded, "I used to think the same thing, but after we left-"

"And cleaned out CI of some major valuables," Amaya interjected.

He smiled a little, a bit of the old, carefree Owen returning. "That remains a matter of debate, since we were the main ones responsible for getting it there in the first place, Kidd."

"Dorky old man with same jokes." Amaya said in a thick Japanese accent.

"Yeah. Right. And you're the Kidd I found on a rooftop holding your palm out like you were going to shoot a web from it."

"Not true!" Amaya spoke with emphasis, "That is not how it went down."

"That's how I remember it." Owen grinned, then his face sobered. "Back to Violet, I can't remember what happened around that time, it's like a big blank spot. Around three years ago."

"That's an eloquent way of putting it," The cat suited Japanese smirked.

Owen didn't smile back, "Listen to me, Amaya, Violet is here in Manchester. Working for the Alfonsis'."

"Violet's here too?" Amaya's brown eyes widened, "Can I see her?"

"No. I wouldn't recommend it. She's different, Amaya. Not the quiet, fun woman who used to love tying people up. Instead she's a quiet, and very possibly insane merc for hire running around. All she cares about is money," Owen picked at some lint on his black trousers.

"I still have to see her. She's part of my family too. How do you even know she killed someone?" Amaya looked earnestly at her surrogate uncle.

"She says I did it." Owen wouldn't meet her eyes, "And I can't remember."

"No fucking way," Amaya said flatly, "Don't listen to that. I'm sure you two just overdosed or something and it's part of some drug induced fantasy." She finished hopefully, desperate to keep the two people she loved the most as she remembered them.

"That's not all of it. Violet kidnapped a reporter from here, in order to impersonate her with another person for some fucking wild west scheme. I heard about it through my chain of contacts, so I managed to track Violet down."

"What happened?" Amaya was intrigued at the thought. She idly wondered if she could pull something off like that.

"Violet had the girl stuffed inside a fucking suitcase, trussed up and gagged so well the girl couldn't do a thing. I freed the girl and left Violet hogtied beside the car. I should have stayed to make sure she didn't escape," Owen's fists were clenched, "She broke out of that county jail like it was a cardboard box. I should have known better, not been so stupid."

Amaya shook her head, then thought of something, "Becky Carter, right? There was a write up in the paper about it. I may know her, actually. Though she doesn't know me."

Owen raised an eyebrow, "How?"

"Watch this." Amaya giggled, pulling her slim phone out of a side pocket on her thigh. She held up a video in front of Owen's face and hit play. It was footage of the time Amaya had posed as a traveling tape saleswoman, trying to earn money for college. A blonde girl in professional attire sat duct taped to a chair, with varying colors of tape used to subdue her. Owen chuckled when the camera panned up to the girl's angry red face with Caution tape wrapped around her head. She was trying to say something but it was all muffled grunts and moans. The clip ended and Amaya pocketed it.

"She was a blast to get a reaction out of," Amaya smirked.

Owen just looked at her.

"Wasn't that funny?"

Owen shook his head slightly, "In a way, but I had a dream about her on my way up. You know how I feel about dreams, I think they come from too much pizza from the night before. But Violet had kidnapped this Carter girl, and was about to put a bullet through her brain."

"Damn, that is dark. You probably had that dream as aftereffects from the western trip you took," Amaya tried to console him.

"Yeah. Except when I got here, I was doing some surveillance on Miss Carter, and-"

"So now you spy on girls?" Amaya couldn't resist the urge to poke a bit at her former mentor.

Owen shrugged, unashamed, "It was a feeling I had, which was vindicated, if you'll let me finish."

"Violet was following her? Why?"

"I don't know yet. I know Violet is working for the Alfonsi family, and there's some history there between Mrs. Alfonsi and Miss Carter. I'm sure Violet knows I'm in the area."

"Oh yes, your former 'southern belle' knew all along," a sarcastic voice stated loudly.

Owen immediately ducked to the side, hitting the gravel roof and rolling with the momentum. Amaya rolled flipped on her left side and came up in a crouch. Violet stood twenty feet away, dressed in tight black jeans, a black tee shirt, fingerless leather gloves, and that old leather jacket Owen had given her for Christmas a few years back. Her long purple hair was slicked back off her forehead. She looked tall, but Amaya was certain part of it was the wedged heels on Violet's tall leather boots.

"Violet!" Amaya had been startled at first, but joy overcame her as she stared at her friend. She darted forward.

Violet held out her arms and they embraced warmly. Amaya pulled back to look at Violet with shining eyes, "It's been so long!"

"Yes it has," Violet said crisply, her lips had purple lipstick.

"Violet," Owen raised a hand, "Step away from her."

The muscular black woman smiled coldly, "What are you going to do, arrest me?"

Amaya stepped away from Violet, placing herself between the two, "Let's just get along, maybe have a few beers, talk about old times?"

Owen and Violet paid no heed to her, just staring at each other.

"Owen"

"Violet"

Both of them said it almost simultaneously, but Violet was a little quicker.

Owen started across the rooftop towards her, then Violet pulled a gun out of her pocket.

"VIOLET!!!" Amaya screeched, unbelieving of the sight before her.

Violet finally looked at her, but she kept the gun on Owen. The niner had a silencer screwed into the barrel. "Amaya," Violet began crisply, "I might as well tell you, things are not the happy little world you remember. Owen is a murderer, and he needs to be put in jail. Or put down. Join me in working for the Alfonsi family, you won't be disappointed. CI is on its way out, the big players are making their move, and you need to be a part of it."

Owen was silent from his position.

It was a no brainer to Amaya, but she was still crushed. She had always dreamed about their reunion, fantasized of it, and now this. This huge fucking disappointment. At least one of them seemed sane enough. Amaya casually walked in front of the gun barrel.

"Amaya!" Owen shouted.

Violet's eyes widened only slightly, her whites visible in the moonlight. Her gaze remained steely. "Amaya, don't be stupid."

"You're not hurting him." Amaya felt anger boiling up inside her, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Violet just shook her head, "Consider this a warning." She moved the gun up and to her right, then pulled the trigger.

The gun went off, a clipping noise, and Amaya heard Owen gasp. She whirled around, then screamed.

Owen was clutching his shoulder, and blood was streaming out between his fingers.

"Nononono!" Amaya was at his side, checking the wound. She glanced back, Violet was leaving.

"No!" Amaya ran forward and threw a kick at Violet. Her foot was snagged in Violet's strong fingers, and she twisted Amaya's foot, causing Amaya to leap with the twist so her ankle didn't snap. A sweeping kick with her leg upon landing failed to knock Violet down, who simply jumped back, then leaned in to graze Amaya's chin, knocking the Japanese girl silly. When the bright spots of her vision cleared, Violet was gone.


**********************************


Becky Carter was actually running late. She had told Isabella she'd be there around eight, but it was eight thirty, and here she was, rapidly walking her slender form across the sidewalk in downtown Manchester. She had parked her car in a parking garage several blocks from Isabella's apartment complex, and her pump clad feet padded softly on the pavement, reminding her she should have worn sneakers. Her feet were killing her! Becky had done a lot of walking today, and while her grey pumps with red ribbons were adorable, they offered little support. Time had gotten away from her for once, and she was running late! Her word meant everything to her, if she said she'd do it, Becky meant it.

And here I'm making my good friend wait.

She was almost beside herself with irritation and impatience. A text to Isabella earlier informed her Hispanic friend that she'd been delayed, but she hadn't gotten a text back. Oh well, she was almost there. Becky was in a denim miniskirt, with snug black tights that kept her long legs warm in the crispy air. Her soft grey turtleneck sweater clung to her athletic body, hiding Dakota's summer green tank top she had 'borrowed' from her little sister's dresser. Dakota would be ticked, but Becky needed one and they were close in height and weight. Becky wore cute little matching grey gloves that matched the sweater. Her leather wristwatch was on her left wrist, and a quick pull of her sweater sleeve told her she was more behind schedule than ever. Her medium blonde hair was long and loose from its normal French bun, cascading around her shoulders. A blue beanie was tucked in her black leather purse, she was just a tad hot from her swift walk.
Becky's soft grey eyes analyzed her surroundings, unusually wary, but after this morning's investigation, she was a little apprehensive. Okay so I'm very apprehensive. Becky thought, It's not everyday I take some recordings in my purse to my friend's house to get them translated to bring a crime family down. And it's also not every day I feel like I'm being followed. Or stalked. No! I just have to focus, I'm almost to Isabella's place.
Her brain can go into overdrive with her thoughts when she's nervous, and her tongue can move with a mind of its own. Thankfully she's managing to keep her inner dialogue to herself, can't have passing pedestrians seeing her talking to herself, they'd probably think she's crazy.
If there were any pedestrians out. It was quiet and no one was around where she was walking. Her stomach churned a little as she came up to an alley that had the streetlight in front of it burnt out. It looked dark. I can't let my overactive imagination get the best of me, it's just an alley, just an alley. I'm almost to Isabella's, and then I can find out what exactly is on those recordings.

Just an alley she repeated it in her head like a mantra.

As she approached the dark outline, a figure stepped out in front of her, arms on his meaty chest. Her heart almost skipped a beat, and she let out a small yelp. Becky's hand slipped inside her purse as her adrenaline spiked, the guy was ten feet away. He had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. The man smiled at her with gold plated teeth.

"Hey there little lady, a certain woman sends her re-uuuuugggg."

A crackle of electricity struck his chest as Becky darted forward with the taser she bought off Amazon. The man screamed as he fell to the pavement, twitching spasmodically, then lay still.

"Oh my god!" Becky knelt down next to the man, worried she'd killed him. "Oh my gosh oh my gosh!" she carefully stared at his chest, noting it rose and fell, albeit in shallow fashion. Becky sighed in relief, she had never tased someone before, and was relieved that the guy hadn't kicked the bucket. No one deserves to die. She was kind of stoked though, truth be told, on kicking this bad guy's ass. Becky had decided to carry a taser after the Oklahoma debacle, getting kidnapped and stuffed in her own suitcase was an experience she never wanted to repeat. Self defense classes had taught her how to use one, and she was glad for it right n-

"Mmmmmfff!" Her thoughts were interrupted as a strong, gloved hand clamped over her mouth, and her right wrist was seized in a viselike grip.

There was another person! Becky screamed in anger, fear, and desperation as she bucked wildly in her assailant's clutches. She reached desperately with her left hand to grab the taser in her right, when the hand was released from her mouth, trying to snag her wrist. Becky moved her left elbow up and jabbed it into her attacker's shoulder.

"Ahh! Damn!" another man.

Becky was spun around suddenly and face to face with him. He was wearing a billcap low over his eyes, and a black bandana covered his face. Her eyes took in the stranger and paused her fighting momentarily. He removed his hand from her mouth.

"Calm down Miss Carter, I'm not here to hurt you."

"Wha-" Becky sputtered, "What are you- help! Hel-mmmmppp!"

The man clapped a gloved palm back against her mouth. Her eyes were wide as she once again began fighting back.

"Calm down! The man in black, remember? Oklahoma train tracks?" he was a perfect calm to her panic, as if he knew it would sink in eventually.

Becky nodded, and the man relinquished his grip. "What are you doing here? Who is this guy who attacked me? Why are you in Manchester? Have you been following me? Why the mystery man act? Pull down your mask. Are you a good guy? Or a vigilante?" she said all of this in one breath, her brain in overdrive, discarding ideas, coincidences, and connections in nanoseconds.

"Whoa, whoa," The man in black said, "Easy Miss Carter, my mind isn't as sharp as yours."

Becky glared at him, still untrusting, "Start explaining mister," She waved the taser.

"Okay, okay." He held his hands up with the slightest laugh. "But can we go somewhere out of the streets. I know you don't trust me, but there may be more, and my shoulder is bleeding again. He gently lifted his coat, revealing a dark stain.

"Ohmygosh! Did I do that?" Becky felt a little worried.

"This? Nah. Sumbitch."

"Alright," Becky weighed her options, this man wasn't attacking her or tying her up, thank God, and there could be more around. She could call Lieutenant Cooper, but he would only send her home, and there was the fact that this guy had saved Raine and herself from a speeding train. Above all else there was her curiosity. She was burning to know what he wanted to talk about, and she had a ton of questions.

"Ok," She said suddenly, "Lead the way, but I'm keeping this taser on your back, and one wrong or stupid move and I'll tase you."

"Sure thing Miss Carter," was it her imagination, or were his eyes twinkling? Like he thought her antics were cute or funny? Well she'd show him if he tried anything.

He led her in an alley and into a rusty side door of an old building. Once inside, he flicked on a light.

Becky stared.

A cat suited burglar sat in a reclining position, legs stretched out, arms behind her head. Becky always said she never forgot a face, and domino masks didn't do the best job. Amaya. The Japanese girl who taped her to a chair for trying to do a good deed. Becky glared at the casual, smirking form, her normally soft grey eyes expressed anger and fury.

"You! You're that girl who taped Maggie and myself to chairs! How dare you show your face! What the hell is this? I'm calling the cops!" Becky turned to the man in black.

"If you would give me five minutes, Miss Carter, and please stop talking for a little bit, I'll explain everything," the man in black said calmly.

Becky nodded wordlessly, but remained standing. She wasn't going to get her clothes dirty. The place was filthy, and the chairs looked dusty enough to permanently discolor her tights and cute denim miniskirt that she literally just bought.

"Fair enough." The man in black seemingly noticed her glancing around at the dirt.

"Hiyeeeeeee Beckeeeee!" Amaya giggled from her chair.

Becky folded her arms across her slim chest, and eyed Amaya with a dangerous stare. She flipped Amaya off, then turned to the man in black.

"Let me start off by saying how I got shot," The man in black began.


**********************************

Owen's shoulder was sore from the bullet, but he had known how to stitch, and it was only a flesh wound. No need to go the hospital. Miss Carter had jarred it, but nothing too bad. Owen carefully gauged Becky's reaction to the story as he related it. He left out a few need-to-know details, such as CI, and The Urban Professional. No need to endanger the reporter with knowledge she did not need to be aware of. He focused on Violet, and the Alfonsi's, which he and Amaya knew almost nothing about the crime family. Becky filled in some pieces with events that had transpired since her first meeting with Marta, though she had yet to meet up with the woman again.

After they finished, she was visibly shaken up to see Violet was more than likely the following her and had probably deliver that stupid painting.
Really Violet? Owen thought, Following innocent young ladies and trying to intimidate them?

"I never want to get captured by Violet again. That was horrible," Becky put a finger to her chin, contemplating, "And you" Becky pointed at Amaya with a long slender finger, "Are part of some organization that is comprised of professional thieves. I don't know the name yet, but I'm aware of your existence. I'm taking you down too."
.
Owen was flabbergasted she knew of CI, though not in name. He resisted the urge to grin. Telling Amaya she would get taken down was not the best thing to do.

"I'd have you on the floor and hogtied in a hot minute, an-"

"Nope," Becky smirked, waving her taser.

Amaya's face turned red, "You think that would-"

"Miss Carter, Kidd." Owen said, he was trying to keep everyone focused. He admired Miss Carter's tenacity. She seemed quite capable of continuing this investigation. It wasn't a bad idea really, he and Amaya could use some help. "If we can continue."

"I want to know your name," Becky announced, staring at his covered face, "And your bandanna needs to come off if I'm going to trust you and if we're going to work together."

"Sorry, bandanna stays on, and the name is Outlander."

"I'm not calling you that." Becky and Amaya said simultaneously, much to each one's apparent disgust.

Owen sighed, that name never seemed to catch on.

"It's Owen" Amaya stated, giggling, "Or old man."

"Amaya!" Owen was relieved though, Amaya seemed to be ok after their encounter with the psychotic Violet. He looked at Miss Carter. "You can call me Owen too."

Miss Carter nodded, and she checked her watch. "If that's it, I guess we'll be in touch? I have a friend that I've kept waiting way too long."

Amaya smirked, "Yeah, she might want to get untied. I hear forced yoga positions can be quite tiresome after awhile."

Owen was confused, Amaya hadn't told him Miss Carter knew Amaya's latest victim. Fuck, everything was about to be unraveled.

"What did you do to Isabella?" Miss Carter said emphatically.

"Weeeeellllllll she may have been part of my assignment." Amaya drawled.

Miss Carter turned to Owen, "You condone this? That's one of my best friends! Ugh!" she started for the door.

"Miss Carter!" Owen called out, "I promise I'll keep a tight leash on Kidd here, and won't let her tie up your friends!"

She slammed the door.

"That could have gone better," Owen stated glumly.

"Relax! We don't need her anyway, right?" Amaya jumped up and did a handspring.

"Amaya," Owen said somewhat soberly, "With just the two of us going against Violet and the Alfonsis' we'll need all the help we can get."


**********************************


Becky ran.

Her cutie pumps threatened to fly off as she sprinted. She was grateful her tights kept her legs warm as a chill breeze blew in from the ocean.
There'd probably either snow or rain tonight.

Amaya. That bitch.

Tying up my friend?! she thought furiously, Isabella hadn't done anything! And after her ordeal at the school! Even more than her own concern, everyone loves Isabella. Cass, Dakota, Mom, even Maggie. She was as nice, sweet, and polite a person as one could meet.

Becky finally reached the apartment complex and dashed inside. Isabella's apartment was on the sixth floor. The elevator ride was interminably long, and her impatience grew with each passing floor. She checked her watch, 9:16. How long had Isabella been tied up? Becky looked at the mirror in the corner, and adjusted her skirt. She glanced over her tights, they seemed ok, and she tucked a long strand of blonde hair behind her ear, though why she was worrying about her looks was beyond her. A diversion from the matter at hand. Once the elevator dinged at the sixth floor, Becky hurried out of it, and made her way to Isabella's apartment. She paused outside the door, what if Amaya was lying? What if someone else was in there?

To hell with it, she decided. She knocked once, then impulsively used the spare key Isabella had given her.

She came inside and noticed right off that her friend's normally spic and span house was messy. Becky heard an all too familiar moan from the living room, followed by a grunt. "Isabella!" Becky saw her friend, tied in an unusual manner, gagged with duct tape. That tie looked to be the most uncomfortable tie she had ever seen. It almost looked like a praying gesture, "Hang on, I'll have you out in a jiffy. That has got to be killing your wrists."

"Ttthhhggggnnnnnnsssss," Isabella moaned gratefully.


Thirty minutes later Becky and Isabella were curled up on a big couch, each with a steaming cup of organic coffee. Isabella didn't look too bad, but there were rope burns on her wrists and forearms, and Becky had massaged Isabella's arms for ten minutes, just in order to get some circulation back.

Isabella smiled gratefully at Becky, "Thank you so much for rescuing me."

They had just brought each other up to speed on the happenings of the evening, with Becky concluding the tale of how these two criminalish do gooders wanted to help.

"Well, they didn't hurt me at least." Isabella said in her soft Spanish accent.

Becky was amazed at how calm Isabella was. She took it like a champ.

Lieutenant Cooper arrived then, his large bulk, bloodhound eyes, and gruff mannerisms apparent as ever. There were old coffee stains on his uniform. He went over the scene with Isabella. There wasn't anything he could go off, so after a few words of, 'We'll do all we can' he left.
Shortly after, Becky finally got to show Isabella the recordings, with a hell of a time getting them here, she was going to find out what was on them, no matter what. Isabella listened carefully, her pretty eyebrows frowning in concentration. She jotted notes down, as it played.

Finally, Isabella turned off the recorder. "Becky" she intoned quietly, "There's not much I was able to pick out."

Becky couldn't help feeling disappointed, So much for high hopes.

Isabella held up the paper, then handed it to Becky. There were a few words written in a neat cursive.

She took it eagerly, scanning the sheet. Six words. Bulldozer. Bob. Professional. Shipment. Italy. Docks. "Hmm, that's more than what I had." Becky smiled at her friend, "Thank you so much! You're the best person I know with languages."

"Thank you," Isabella smiled shyly. "I am so happy it might be of some help."

"I can check out some of these angles," Becky stretched her long, tights covered legs.

Isabella frowned a little, "Becky, why didn't you take Cass with you? You two have been inseparable since childhood."

It was Becky's turn to frown, "Ever since I got that painting, I've had this feeling I'm being watched, and I'm not going to endanger Cass, or anyone else when I go snooping around looking for leads."

"But Becky, you can't solve this case like that, going out on your own. What if you get caught? You have friends that care about you. I care what happens to you," Isabella played with her long tresses.

Becky shook her head stubbornly. Out of her friends, Isabella was usually the one she went to for advice, but she wasn't looking for it this time. "I'm sorry Isabella, I'm not putting anyone else in danger. Just tonight I was attacked, like I told you earlier."

Isabella smiled sadly, "I'm more than willing to go out checking leads with you, but it's up to you dear. At least do go out and have a good time sometimes, whether it's with Cass, Maggie and I, or start dating someone."

"Now that you mention it," Becky smiled, "I have been seeing this guy."

"Yes!" Isabella clapped her hands together, "Who?"

"His name is Ethan, and he's a doctor. We've only gone out a couple times. Twice," her smile got a little bigger.

"Oh I'm so happy for you!" Isabella squealed, she rushed from her end of the couch and gave Becky a hug. Becky embraced her friend, grateful for her support, not just with a boyfriend, but everything. Isabella accepted her, nosy snooping, stubborn nature, and everything else she was, just like that. A great friend to have.

"You're a good friend, Isabella."

"And so are you, coming down to the principal's office and making him put Mrs. Calder on leave without pay? Who would be able to get that accomplished?"

"I can be quite persuasive when it comes to my friends."

The two of them settled back down on their respective places on the couch. Becky would be staying the night with her, and they decided to watch a movie. Becky curled up, legs tucked under her, arms on her knees, hands wrapped her coffee. Her turtleneck sweater kept her nicely warm, and her skirt with tights made her feel downright cozy. Isabella sat Indian style on the couch, and had traded her coffee for a mint tea. She wore loose yoga pants and a yellow tee shirt. Her lengthy thick hair hung loose around her shoulders.

They both settled back for the evening, pleasantly comfortable. Becky had some new leads, and at the very least new contacts with Owen. Maybe she could get finally get somewhere in this case.