She licked her lip, tasting the flow of blood from the tender skin there.  With a short grunt, she swung herself back onto her feet, glaring at the man across from her.  His eyes were those of someone losing an important battle, and the fury of his next few swings were offset by their lack of aim.  With a few quick dodges and a swift punch in the stomach, Kate sent her opponent sprawling on the floor.  Without wasting a second, she pounced on him, kneeing him in the solar plexus as she landed.  He gasped for air beneath her.  She pinned down his flailing arms and grimaced into his face.

“Not just a pretty face, now, am I?” She spat her blood into his eyes before slamming her fist into his throat to send his head smashing into the concrete floor.  He was unconscious.  She rose shakily to her feet, still at the ready should he suddenly lunge back up.  After a moment, she coarsely smeared the blood trickling from her mouth onto the back of her arm and slipped her pistol out of her back pocket.  She cocked the hammer back and took a deep breath.  She pushed back a shock of her russet-colored hair, accidentally slicking it back with the man’s blood.  Her finger trembled for a second on the trigger.  The academy had drilled so deeply into her to kill only when absolutely necessary.  She shook her head.  This isn’t a police job.  It’s a job for Falcon.  This guy was bad for business, he needs to go.

The bullet went through his skull with shocking ease.  Kate released the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding before stuffing the pistol back in her pocket and hurrying to get her coat and hat.  Once she had satisfactorily wrapped herself up, efficiently covering her bloodstained clothing and hiding her bruised face, she hurried out of the basement apartment and slipped through the too-warm May night.

The sounds of New York beat irrhythmically around her, sending her mind into a Van Gogh swirl.  Soon she was soaking in her claw-footed tub, shivering despite the boiling heat of the water her body was steeping in.  Her eyes stared blindly at the soft curves of her body barely visible through the blood-tinted water.  She swallowed and relaxed her head back against the sill of the tub, trying to lose her mind once more in the haze that had brought her feet, machinelike, to her apartment.  Then she heard it.

She jolted up, sending a wave of water slopping over the side, pooling on the shining linoleum.  She didn’t notice, instead creeping her hand slowly toward the heap of clothes on the floor, slipping into the pocket of her pants and closing around the hard metal of her gun.  The front door continued to rattle.  With an unexpected “ch-kunck” somebody forced it open and slipped into the apartment without a sound.  Kate made out the shadowy outline of a stocky, well-muscled man padding through her stuff, opening boxes and jars in a search for something valuable.  Now and then he would slip something into a sack or his pocket.  Kate didn’t even realize until she saw his horrified face that was standing in front of the man, dripping wet and stark naked, with a pistol leveled between his eyes.

“You have no fucking clue who you’re dealing with, do you punk?”

It had been a fairly uneventful night for James. The New York lights sent an eerie glow across his face as he left an abandoned building, his trademark smirk spread across his face. He'd been using the place for months now as a stow-away place for his stolen merchandise. Clasping his newest grab, a golden watch, upon his wrist, James decided to loot one more house before calling it a night.

Stopping at a house, James pressed his ear to the door. It sounded as if everyone was asleep, or nobody was home. Perfect, he thought, this will be a cinch. The lock gave him more trouble than he anticipated. Instead of wasting valuable time trying to pick it, James aimed a well placed foot on the weak spot near the handle, and sent it fling back on its hinges, hanging limply like a broken arm from a shoulder on its frame.

He had begun to stow some valuables in his pockets. Working up a slight sweat, he casually stood up and swept a piece of hair away from his face. Turning around to move further into the house, he came face to face with a gun. And... A lady, soaking wet.

“You have no fucking clue who you’re dealing with, do you punk?”

James cocked his head to the side for a moment and reached into his pocket slowly. As his hand hit the brim of his pants, he heard the noise of the hammer being cocked. He pulled his hand up slowly, showing the woman what he had delved into his pocket for; a cigar. Putting it in his mouth, he patted his chest pocket and drew his eyes together, trying to buy himself some time.

"Got a light?"

Kate raised an eyebrow but didn't flinch.

"Put everything on that table now.  And don't pull any funny stuff either." With a flash of modesty, she crossed her arm over her chest. "And keep your eyes on my face."  She watched as he slowly emptied his pockets of her valuables--including her mother's necklace.  Seeing this, Kate felt her cheeks flaming with rage, and she nearly shot him then and there.  Instead, she took a deep breath and drew her eyebrows together.

"Is that all of it?"

He touched the brim of his hat with a roguish grin.

"Yes, ma'am.  I'm sorry to have intruded...may I please have that light now?"

She glared at him for a moment before lowering the gun and flicking the safety on. She motioned to a nearby dresser with the pistol.

"Matches are in that drawer."

She watched him closely as he reached into the drawer, pulled out the promised matches, and lit his cigar.  As he puffed on the tobacco, she hastily grabbed a kimono flung over a chair and slipped it on over herself, tying it tightly around her.waist.  She immediately seized upon the pile of almost-stolen goods and began putting them back in their rightful places.  She paused to glare up to the man still standing casually in the middle of her living room.

"I should arrest you right now, you know." She frowned irritably at his nonchalance.  "I'm a cop."

James smirked slightly and inhaled deeply, his eyes darting around the room to try and find a quick escape. As if she was reading his mind, the barely covered lady darted around the room, closing the front door, and locking the windows. She looked up with somewhat of a smug expression, as if to say "what now?"

"No way in hell you're a cop, ma'am."

James said calmly, picking up a golden vase on an end table, twirling it in the palm of his hand. His eyes scanned the walls, the end tables, the vanity, and the ledge leading into the kitchen.

"There's not a chance in hell that a cops salary paid for all these nice things."

Kate's gaze flickered as it connected with the burglar's from across the room.  She strode slowly over to him, forcing nonchalance into her gait.  No, a cop's salary hadn't paid for...well, any of this.  She wrenched the vase from his hands and placed it carefully back on the table as she spoke.

"So I came from money and preferred detective work to debutante balls.  Is that a crime?  Being the expert here on that, I'd say not."

She glared into James's face, studying it.  She thought she might have seen him lurking around the streets of New York before, but couldn't place him.  The faint accent he had was a bit hard to place, but it certainly wasn't from around here.  She quickly remaneuvered herself to block his path to the doorway, poised to jump at him if he tried to run.

"What's your name anyway, kid?  I might as well know before I call my buddies at the station."

Prophet runs in a slams the door shut, he had just cased a couple joints near the apartment, "Bloody hell some of these owners really like their merchandise," Prophet said with a smirk. He walks in drops the bag full of stolen items and walks right past two people. Before he even notices he lights his cigar, "God these are too good to give up..." Prophet turns and now sees the two people staring at him as if they couldn't believe that he just walked in and walked straight past them as if they were nothing. "Oh shit!" Prophet reached for his gun inside his holster inside his jacket, and pointed at the man, "Hey your that cop that busted me a couple days ago, hey I don't want no trouble wi...", he said to the lady but those were all the words he could muster before the blunt end of a pistol came down into his head, he fell to the fall and feigned unconsciousness so maybe they'd just leave him and he could bolt without any trouble... Hopefully, he didn't want bad publicity for the boys back at HQ.

Upon hearing the new intruder, Kate whipped about suddenly, her pistol at the ready. She had almost shot the bastard, but decided to be merciful and pistol-whip the fucker. Seeing him laid out on the floor, she gave him a savage kick to the head, ensuring his unconsciousness, an almost certain concussion, and maybe death if she was lucky. Kate then kicked his head once more over to the linoleum of the hallway so he wouldn't bleed on the carpet. She heard his nose crack as her bare foot connected with it.  Kate turned savagely to James, her face drawn into deep lines of anger as she pointed the pistol at him once more.

"What the fuck? You brought an accomplice? And here I thought I was dealing with a simple cat burglar.  That's it, I'm calling downtown.  Don't you move a fucking muscle."

She made her way over to the phone as quickly as her slowly aching foot would take her.  Her gaze and pistol never left James, even as she picked up the phone and began to dial the station's number.

Walter liked to think himself as a patient man, and he was, to a point. He was a former lawyer who promptly turned to crime when the stock market crashed and his firm went to hell. But his patience was wearing thin, especially with his neighbor. A long index finger scratched his equally long nose absently as he tried to drown out the various bangs and clashes that came from next door. What was the broad's name? Kathy? Kate?

Eyerbows furrowed, Walter sighed and put down the book he had been reading, the Count of Monte Cristo. Leaning forward in his easychair, he put his face in his hands and gently massaged his temples. A half-empty glass of water rested on the small side table by the chair. No peace and quiet, but that was New York for you. Another crash, a yelp, a thud, like someone falling to the ground. Enough was enough. He stood up from the chair and threw on his old terrycloth bathrobe over the wifebeater and boxers he had on.

"A little peace and quiet, is that so much to ask for," he muttered angrily as he stormed out the door, "No respect these days, none at-"

Pausing, he stared at the scene before him. A man with wild hair was lying on the linoleum bleeding from the head. Another one was smoking a cigar and trying to look casual- it would have worked if Walter's neighbor-lady wasn't pointing a pistol at cigarman while on the phone.

James furled his brow together and puffed on his cigar, thinking, always thinking he was. At the moment he was wondering whether or not the chicken he took out the night before was thawed or not. Then he remembered, it had been eighty five fucking degrees today, the chicken was probably no good. Shaking his head he noticed the man from next door standing, almost hovering it seemed over them.

"What the hell are you doing? Can't you see we're uh... Busy?" James flicked his hair away from his face and took a seat in Kate's armchair, putting his feet up on her coffee table. "Now now, there's no reason to call the fuzz. I've never seen this piece of shit in my life. Looks like an amateur to be honest. I wouldn't lose a wink of sleep if you offed him."

James looked through her door and saw the man laying unconscious, probably dead, laying on the floor. Poor guy. Never even got to see Kate naked, and what a sight that was. Wondering how he was going to work out of this one, he sighed and put his hands on top of his head, surveying the room once again. There was certainly no way Kate came into these things at birth, and even less of a chance that her cop salary paid for it. If only he could find some sketchy evidence to blackmail her with.

Ivanoch Looks through a Limo windo, disappointed and angered. "He's Dead, Ivan." says Igor, "The downtown will get here soon." Ivanoch Grumbles and says "Step on it, Michaels!" and the Limo sped off..

Kate's attention snapped suddenly away from James as she realized her neighbor had walked in on the scene.  Her mind released a string of curses as she forced an ingratiating grin for the man.

"Why...hello, Mr. Graves.  A pleasure to see you.  I apologize for any noise we've been making, but you must understand that I don't treat thieves lightly."

Her eyes immediately swept over the twitching Prophet on the floor and the now-lounging James.

"And I don't care if you wouldn't give this man a second glance.  I'm still calling the police."

Meanwhile, while the action was happening, Kate had no idea, neither did anyone else, that Johnny had been hiding in the closet for some time. He was in his house just hours before Kate came home and he was cleaning when he came across a secret hall leading through the streets and into Kate's closet! Now he's stuck because he can't reach the door near the ceiling and he didnt dare make a sound as he was familiar with Kate's punches from their childhood.