*Yes I know it's long but Ironik's idea of tying the pictures together with a story inspired me. I have probably taken some liberties with the character of Gray Huntress but I claim artistic license in those cases. At any rate, enjoy!
House of Pain
Gray Huntress moved quickly along the rooftops, a dusky shadow racing against the coming dawn. She weaved, leapt and vaulted her way through the maze of wires, ductwork, television aeriels and air conditioning units with only the occasional clacking from the quiver of arrows on her back for company.
~I hate this place. I've always hated this place!~, she mused silently and easily cleared the gap from one rooftop to another across the street from the non-descript white building that was her destination. A slight breeze helped to dissipate the pervading odor of the Kamagasaki streets and alleyways below as the first light of dawn started to stain the horizon. High wispy clouds painted gold, scarlet and dusky rose faded into a brilliant cobalt blue sky as the night once again surrendered the city of Osaka to the sun.
Huntress stopped to survey the quiet street below. No one appeared to be about but it was hard to tell with the homeless seeking out shadowy doorways or even the leeward side of buildings for a place to sleep. The discarded lumps strewn around the narrow sidewalks could be garbage or derelicts. Satisfied that the risk was minimal she dropped to an overhanging ledge and then down to the cracked pavement with her cape billowing and flapping behind her. The combined stench of old urine, rotting garbage, unwashed bodies and worse was overpowering. She ignored the assault on her senses through sheer force of will and quickly crossed the street to a darkened doorway.
A small callbox hung beside the door with four plastic green buttons. The top most button marked the corresponding floor as vacant.
The button glowed briefly when Huntress pressed and held it with her right thumb and the wan light caused her reflection to appear ghostlike in the small window set in the door before her. Her dark hair, costume and mask only reinforced the illusion by making her reflection appear to hover in the shadows behind the dark glass like some nightmarish sentinel. She glared at the fading image and adjusted the quiver strap on her shoulder in irritation.
"I hate this place! I should have put that animal down when I had the chance!", the words hissed between gritted teeth.
There was a buzzing from behind the door and the lock clicked open allowing her access. Huntress stepped into a small foyer. A fading mural of samurai watching a pair of sumo wrestlers compete adorned the walls in the small space and another door painted with cherry blossoms stood locked before her. As the exterior door closed and locked the interior door clicked open. At the same moment the wall to her right slid open to reveal a narrow and brightly lit elevator. The elevator took her below street level to a wood paneled office sparsely decorated with modern looking furniture and bamboo plants.
A professional looking woman wearing a tailored suit jacket in light gray over a black turtle neck sat behind a large desk typing away at a laptop computer. Her auburn hair was cut in a short wedge and she wore only a hint of make up. "Good morning Ma'am," the woman said politely without looking up from her work, "Mr. Halloran has been expecting you so you may as well go in."
Huntress squared her shoulders, mentally repeated a mantra about the ends justifying the means and stepped through the door flanking the desk. The office beyond was very much like the last one save for the large impressionist oil painting of the Statue of Liberty hanging on the wall behind the desk. On the corner of the desk sat a small autographed picture of John Wayne. The man behind the desk could best be described as rumpled. His suit looked like he had slept in it, his tie was loosened and the collar of his wrinkled shirt was unbuttoned. Even his thin face looked rumpled, his cheeks hung loosely, almost jowl-like on either side a long prominent nose and his wide mouth was fixed in a permanent frown. Sad gray eyes considered her from beneath bushy eyebrows.
"You were supposed to be here yesterday Gray." Halloran accused in a bored sounding voice.
"You weren't supposed to need me anymore Hal." Huntress retorted. "Did your dog break it's leash again?"
"What makes you think that I have any work for you?"
"The fact that you specified that I pack light means whatever you want done is going to be a cape and cowl job. You didn't tell me where we were supposed to meet which means I have to come to this God forsekan place to find you and you only discuss work here." Huntress ticked off the reasons on her fingers with a hard edge in her voice. "You also paid for my airfare and accommodations and you're too damn cheap to pay for anything unless you get something in return. Did I miss anything?" She could feel her irritation swiftly turning into anger and fought to keep her self under control.
~wrongthingsfortherightreasonswrongthingsfortherig htreasonswrongthingsfortherightreasons~ The mantra played in her mind over and over.
"The fact that you still owe me a favor?" Hal got out of his chair and came around the desk with an annoyed look on his normally somber face. He caught himself, sighed once and then sat down sedately on the corner of his desk.
"I don't owe you anything Halloran. I tracked down your dog once and you told me that you brought him to heel."
"I never said...."
"And I told you that we were quits!" Huntress interrupted. Her mantra was now forgotten and she was warming to her subject. "I did what you paid me to do! Hell I even worked with that monster on your say so!"
"He gets results." Hal shrugged in an unperturbed manner.
"Results? Look Halloran, I get what you do and why you do it and in some small way I even support it; needs of the many and all that but Moreau is not your run of the mill hired gun. He's an inhuman, cannibalistic sociopath with the strength of an elephant and no threshold of pain or moral compass!" Huntress was now letting her anger speak for her, she knew that it was a mistake but she was beyond caring.
"He is a blunt instrument and a damn good one and the world at large is a hell of alot safer if he is where I can keep an eye on him and kennel him if necessary." Hal explained with a sigh. "Now if you still don't want to take the job I can find someone else that does."
"And Moreau will literally chew his way through them one after the other all so that you can have your pet psycho to keep your success rate up! When did the job become more important than your conscience?"
"You're asking the wrong question Gray, the question is how much blood do my people have to spill just to keep your conscience clean?"
Huntress opened her mouth to speak, stopped and then dropped her shoulders in defeat. Hal had let her talk herself into taking the job. She was the obvious candidate because she was the one that could bring Moreau in with a minimum of collateral damage. Impotent anger turned to grim resolve and she smiled wolfishly. "So let me bring him in in a body bag." she offered in a flat, chilly tone.
"Dead is no good." Hal shook his head and reached into his desk drawer for a file. "Like it or not Moreau is one of the best resources that I have for underworld information and something is in the works right now that has the small timers skittering for the shadows like cockroaches."
"What do you mean something is in the works?" Huntress asked on impulse.
"Bring me Moreau and then we'll both know." Hal shrugged and opened the file he was holding. "He was working out of the Rogue Isles just before he dropped out of sight. My sources say he was planning to fight in some superhuman kumite here in Japan but as far as we know nothing like that is going on here. That means he's probably gone to ground in New Zealand. I'd start looking on the South Island, the mountains there give him more places to hide."
Huntress took the file from Hal's hand, rolled it up and stashed it in her quiver. "Let's skip the geography lesson. I'll find him, I always do." she said with resignation and turned to leave.
"What have you got on Moreau that you can control him Hal?" Huntress asked without turning back around, her hand on the doorknob.
"Considering your diatribe about my conscience do you really want to know?."
Huntress opened the door and left without another word.
TBC...
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So the things that subscribers pay for go through less quality control than the things subscribers get for free?
