Disclaimer: I don't own Streetfighter, Kim Possible or any of the characters or scenes associated with those shows. This is a parody story meant for entertainment only.

Author's note: Long time no update. Well here is chapter seven. I have one small warning. The last part of the chapter has some violence and takes a peek into the head of a very nasty individual. It's not explicit but it may be disturbing to younger readers. As always I'd love to here your thoughts:

Chapter 7: What happens in Foreign Lands…

Systems check.

The words were blazed in brilliant red upon closed eyelids. A series of numbers and letters followed. Programming code. Complex programming code. Perhaps a few experts in the field might be able to read it. For even those few though it was unlikely that any of them would be able to truly understand how the code worked well enough to replicate it. The genius who had built this prototype and designed its programming lay in a shallow grave near the wreckage of a discarded Shadowloo base in the deep Amazonian wilderness.

The programming code had finished its brief duration on the internal screen. Now sentences were the featured film. Each system in the artificial body appeared in descending order as part of a scrolling list. After each item a few dots would follow followed by the word check. After this initial assessment of available parts a diagnostic would occur. A similar scrolling checklist appeared but this time after the dots the status of the indicated system was listed. The spinal cord was listed as heavily damaged. The synthetic muscles in the chest had been lightly damaged. The psycho-power filtrators had suffered serious stress.

After the diagnostic, repair systems came online. The first priority was the spinal cord. The system of alloyed metal and fiber-optic cables too time for the nanobots to repair.

Finally it was time for the personality program to engage. As per its programming the rebooting system did not load the file marked: personality profile Adam. Instead it downloaded certain files in the memory folder from that master file.

A look at the programming code, with the proper knowledge to understand it, would reveal that the system was searching for all information that had been obtained relating to the fighting styles of the various 'street fighters' around the globe. Each observed fighter had his or her own file. Inside each data file would be physical, psychological, and historical profiles. Also present would be a complete breakdown of the subject's fighting style including a listing of strengths and weaknesses, as well as recordings of the style complete with a muscular breakdown of every portion of the style. After the download was complete the program used this information to create a series of protocols, complete with the necessary program code, that would allow perfect replication of each style.

When the necessary protocols were completed they too were added to the final destination of the downloaded files. Soon a bar appeared. The little meter began completely gray and small amounts of blue appeared as the percentage completed, listed under the bar, climbed ever higher. The title above the bar read: Phase II System Loading.

Hidden hundreds of feet below the surface of the earth lies a secret laboratory. Unlike the corporate penthouse of Shego's current employer, this lab was designed by a man who had an appreciation for mad scientist sheik. The walls and floors of the facility were gunmetal gray and constructed of sheet metal. At random points throughout the instillation the rivets used to hold the various sheets together were readily apparent.

Strange wires and tubes appeared seemingly at random and disappeared into the falls a few feet later. Much of the complex was a series of symmetrical narrow corridors giving the place a look that could be conceivably have been envisioned by a lazy animator short on time.

In one of the labs, large open square rooms complete with pneumatic glass doors, which sealed and opened with a hiss, lurked a wide glass tube that reached from the floor to the ceiling. It was filed with a strange viscous green fluid. This in and of itself was not an outstanding or differentiating feature. The various labs throughout the underground lair were replete with such things.

No the unique feature of this tube was the woman floating in it. Her black hair stood out against the almost neon green slime. Her face was covered in a plastic breathing mask and dozens of wires and tubes were connected at various points on her body. One of these carried away her urine and fecal matter. Another kept her full of vital nutrients and liquids. Another delivered the serum that would render a willing slave of her new master. And yet another delivered fresh nanobots to work out her muscles to keep them from atrophying during her recovery.

She had been recovered from the sight where the scion's last transmitted single had been. The drone sent to collect its body had been unable to locate it in the rubble of the collapsing house. Instead it had found her. Rather than returning to his master with nothing to show for the trip the remote operator had the drone rescue the woman. At the very least she could serve as a test subject for the latest serums the master had developed. The scion's programming ensured that it would self repair and return when it could. The recovery of the scion's body was only meant to facilitate the process of it's progression into the second stage. It would happen regardless.

Meanwhile the scientists monitored the woman's vitals and her own recovery process. By even their conservative estimates she would be ready to be processed in a matter of days.

"They never did find a body,"

"Oh stop it. The entire place was an inferno. She was likely cremated in the fire."

"Still. If there's any hope."

"Ryu. I know you don't want to except it anymore than Sakura but the chances…"

When Chun-li's voice trailed off Sakura knew she was caught. It wasn't much of a surprise. Her new wheelchair meant that sneaking around was next to impossible. Her wheels clicked the loose floorboards of the small hut that the couple lived in. A normal person might have failed to notice in the midst of a difficult conversation. Considering how one of her hosts was a member of the law enforcement community and had survived several attempts on her life in the last year alone, and the other was a martial arts master who had taught Sakura everything she knew about being in tune with your current environment, the former pupil was surprised she'd been able to steer herself into a positon to eavesdrop even a little on their conversation.

It was frustrating. She shouldn't have been relegated to another room while they discussed the fate of her friends like she was still some child who couldn't handle the news. If there was any chance that Makoto was still… But it was silly to think like that. Her old master could. He hadn't been there.

Over a week had past and still the memories were as vivid as the day it had happened. Her nightmares hadn't dulled either. She could still feel the heat of the flames surrounding her. The chi blast had ignited the timber, at the same time the force of it had cracked many of the timbers. The result had been a falling mass of burning timbers. The dojo had become a coffin.

Makoto had reacted quicker than Sakura could have hoped to. With a sharp blow to the chest the other woman had sent the former fan-girl flying. The path hadn't been fully clear and Sakura had crashed through the weakened walls of the dojo and tumbled out of control until she'd come to a sharp stop just outside the radius of the flaming debris. It was that hit that had ensured her place in her wheelchair and not in the morgue. There was no way to survive the dojo, not if you were trapped inside. Makato had never developed chi projection. She'd managed to enhance her own strength and speed but that was all. With the flames and falling debris that would never have been enough to ensure escape or survival.

Ryu and others had still searched all over at Sakura's insistence. They'd found nothing. Finally they had gathered ashes from the sight and placed them in a place of honor so the others could honor the fallen friend.

Sakura had been released from the hospital to attend the ceremony. She'd never returned. Instead Ryu and Chun-li had taken her back to the small domicile where Ryu had trained her.

In many ways this was quite like her first trip up. She was once again here to be taken care of. This time however there was no exuberance in her. Her eyes did not shine with the joy of being near her childhood hero. The last time she'd walked side by side with Ryu, grunting and complaining good naturedly as the ridiculous climb had worn on. This time was different.

Ryu had had to carry her up from the base of the mountain. The bus they'd taken had dropped them off there and there had been no other way to get her up the winding narrow path that would eventually lead to the couple's Japanese haven. It would be suicide to try and make her way up the mountain. She could barely direct the clunky machine she was trapped in. She could certainly not must the strength to master the steep uphill path. Her grip would be sure to fail and then she'd careen off to her doom.

But now she was here, staying with the couple, and forced to listen in at doors to here the truth of matters.

She was technically their guest.

She felt like their prisoner.

She couldn't leave the mountain, or even the house without help. It hadn't been designed for wheelchair access. She was stuck in whatever room they left her in. She certainly couldn't manipulate the door handles while stuck in the chair. The stairs were far beyond her capabilities at this point.

Worse, her hosts had apparently been advised that she should avoid stress. In the days she had been in their custody she had heard nothing of the world beyond the walls and rolling hilltops. To her Red's whereabouts and safety were still unknown. Sean had promised to go looking for her, but Sakura didn't know if he'd had even the smallest trace of luck.

And as her master pushed up the door and affixed her with a stern look that spoke volumes about ease-dropping, while taking her back to the small room it had taken her a half hour to escape, she realized she really was a prisoner.

The quiet lapping of the waves against the hull of the boat did nothing to soothe Red's seething thoughts. Again and again the incident that was India played out in her mind.

After Wade had left she'd been furious. The assumptions he'd had had struck a nerve with Red. Kim Possible's career as a heroine had ended years ago. She had no interest or inclination in saving the world. Nor did she even wish to be reminded of the days when she'd frequently done so. It was one of many reasons she'd kept using the moniker Red instead of reclaiming the name she'd renounced before.

Years ago she might have been more livid in her displeasure. Dramatic thoughts would pool inside her head and seek expression in a melodramatic outburst. She would have sighed and hot fresh memories of the incident that had sent her running would tear down the fragile scars that had grown over that wound.

She was twenty-nine now. An adult. She had no interest in theatrics. She was content to allow the events to have happened as they did. Wade had annoyed her. His pompous arrogance and the insinuations that she would leap through hoops just because he used the blatant attack as a prod. True she'd been confused, not in possession of the full facts at the time.

The appearance of Shego had riled her. It had seemed that her past had suddenly returned. Her time meditating under the waterfall had given her some perspective. She hadn't been even an incidental target of the robot. The only reason she had become a focus of its attentions was that she was the last one standing. The only reason her past had become important was because Shego had been there. Shego had seemed surprised to see her, so it was unlikely the green skinned witch had been there solely for her.

Shego had probably traded up and worked for whoever built the robot. She'd come to the conclusion shortly after Wade had left, when the intense anger of fury had bled away under the torrential force of the waterfall.

What was left was a quieter bur more prescient anger. It would flare up when she thought it had passed, the incident away from her mind. It left her moody, irritable and unable to accomplish her training.

So she had packed and left, her skin still bruised. She had time before the tournament and it could be better spent sitting around, moping. There were countries to see, bouts to enjoy.

So she had left the small island that was Japan on a boat. The ride had been uneventful, and she had arrived in China without delay. From there she'd traded more of her savings for train tickets, which carried her across most of the large country. She had little interest in spending her time there this time. Without a final match with Gen the trip would feel wasted. So she'd set off for India.

She'd arrived via the north eastern border of the country. The air was hot and humid, and sweat forced her normally baggy clothes to stick to her like a second skin. It was wonderful. With a smile on her face Red sought her first challenge. She found it in a small market in the city of Simla. The Ganges ran nearby and the waters were a welcome relief. Splashing water fiercely on himself was a man she remembered from a previous tournament. His bright pink Gi stood out among the muted browns and whites that most of the locals wore. Around him were some local children, a few ran around displaying the signed pictures he had given them. From the idle chatter of the children none of them knew exactly who he was. There was some speculation that he could be Jackie Chan. Or even Fei long. Red did nothing to disabuse them of the notion.

Instead she'd barely had time to utter a greeting before she was challenged to an 'earth shattering exhibition match'. It was certainly bone rattling for Dan. He was getting slightly better. She hadn't expected his attempt to harness his chi into an attack to produce anything. So she'd been caught surprised when it had. Luckily the gout of energy had barely been the size of a penny, and she'd escaped with a slight bruise on her cheek.

She'd won of course. But it had been nice to work out some of her recent stress on a willing target. She'd walked off with a smile on her face as Dan had launched into his teary eyed promise to seek her out to regain the honor of his dojo.

Her trek through northern India had been much the same. When she wasn't walking or hitching she'd seek out the local matches, and use her prowess to earn some extra cash. Most of her opponents were just local toughs. Men and women who thought that they had what it took to be true warriors. Most of the time she did them a favor by stamping out any thoughts they had of being a big fish.

New Deli had changed her plans.

The day she'd arrived the city bustled with the daily routines of hundreds of thousands of people. The sun overhead turned the entire city into a heated rank mess. The sweat and body odors of hundreds of people mixed with the dirt and rotting garbage laying upon the streets. Red had no idea just how many residents lived in the slums where she sought her next match. But it seemed like each and everyone of them had collided with her. On this instance a hand tried to use the distraction of the collision to grope her chest. Behind her a much smaller hand tried to liberate her money from the pockets where it rested while she was defending her chastity. Neither hand succeeded. She caught both of the would be annoyance and with a tug yanked them from the safe obscurity of the bustling crowd.

Two children lay before her. Their skins were streaked with dirt, mud, and the detritus of the streets. The two were clearly different ages, and the younger did her best to cower while the older stared her down defiantly despite his compromising position.

"You hall not take us there!" he declared in fierce unflinching Hindi. Or at least she was pretty sure that was what he'd said. Hindi wasn't her best language, and the child was highly agitated, causing him to speak in a rush that sacrificed clarity for forcefulness.

"Now is that what you say to someone you try and molest and rob? I don't think so. Now say sorry."

If he was surprised by her fluency in the language the boy did not show it. Instead he locked his gaze upon the buff heavily muscled woman clutching his arm tighter than the grip the men in the orphanage had. He would not fall for her tricks. She was like the others who lurked the streets looking for children like him. She would draw him out and then once she was sure he had no parents she'd use the excuse to send him there. It was worrying. /not that he was scared. He was sure he could escape again. But he wasn't sure Nana would survive a trip to that horrid place.

So he would stare, and challenge her with silence. She would be unable to break him and would have to let them go. If not he would scream and kick and maybe Nana could run.

Nana on the other hand had no idea what her protector was planning and instead had ceased to cower behind him. The woman was pretty with her pale skin and looks. So strong. The little girl couldn't slip her arm from the woman's grasp, but the hold didn't hurt. With the clarity of a small child she cleared her throat and tried to respond to the scary woman.

"Uh," she began hesitantly. "My mother said if you apologize you have to say a person's name or it doesn't count."

The strong woman smiled. It didn't make Nana feel any safer though.

"Well, you are very polite aren't you? My name is Red."

"I'm sorry for trying to do those things to you Miss Red."

The situation was getting surreal. When she had grabbed at the hands that were obviously acting in concert Red had assumed she'd find some adult thief, or maybe a teenaged pervert looking to make a quick buck. The two children had been a surprise.

She recognized the boy's posture. Defensive. Not repentant in the least. She had no doubt that in his own mind his actions had been justified. And she had to admire his execution. Sure he'd had the little girl take part but she was just the thief. Considering the obviousness of his distraction and the intimate nature of it, it was likely that anyone else would only focus on the inappropriate hand gestures. It was disturbing that the boy was already proficient in using sex as a weapon, but Red had to admit these didn't look like two spoiled rich kids.

The grime was thick on them, and only a few small patches of the little girl's face were clean enough to see actual skin. They were both thin, too thin for children of that age.

She wasn't an unkind woman. Mostly she simply ignored other's issues. They weren't her problem, and kept to herself. It was best not to get involved. You couldn't save anyone, not really. Supervillians were easy in comparison. You broke a machine here and there. How did you help two desperate starving kids. Sure you could give them a little food or money, but even if it went into their own mouths and not that of some leech who had affixed itself to them, it would only be a brief respite. The next day would bring even more hardships.

If you let yourself care it would drive you insane. So kneeling down so that she was face level with the little girl and saying with as kind a smile as she could manage.

"I accept your apology Miss…"

"Nana."

"Miss nana!"

"Nana don't talk to her!" The boy screeched out. Red was pretty sure that boys weren't supposed to be able to reach that octave. But he was still young, and maybe that screech would deepen with time. Resisting the urge to plug her ears Red kept her attention on Nana.

"I'm gonna let go of your hand and reach into my sack. I want you to stay here or it'll go very hard for your friend. Okay?"

With the little girl's nod Red did as she said and pulled back out one of the energy bars she collected for use upon the road. The food wasn't exactly tasty but it was calories and it didn't go bad easily. It was the same reason she kept a few dehydrated meals. After handing the bar to the girl she reached back and freed another two bars and a few dehydrated meals from the heavy pack. A small bag large enough to hold the food came next. It was half of her current supplies, and she really shouldn't be just handing them out. But she still was. She helped Nana store the food, and against her better judgment gave the half starved looking girl a bar,

"For right now. You look like you haven't eaten in days."

"Nana no!" With the boy's scream the girl's look of delight fell and her arms ceased bringing the opened snack to her mouth.

"Why not! I'll share. I was only gonna have half of it."

"Nana. Stop being stupid. She's one of them. It's gonna be drugged. We eat it and then pass out and she drags us back there."

Red stared at the scene being acted out in front of her. It was as if the two children had forgotten her presence. As they continued to argue, and finally loudly agree with each other, she realized they had.

"You're so smart!"

The little girl was squealing. Squealing. Red had trouble remembering if she'd ever been that young once, though indeed she had. Back then though she'd squealed about panderroo and cooties, not the paranoid theories of her sole protector who was only a few years older. But at this moment, as the two children acted like children, Red had trouble remembering that. Instead she could only smile as the two went back and forth causing a scene, and the bustle around the three dissipated.

"There they are!"

The thick raspy male voice ended the oddly touching scene. All the traces of relaxation that had appeared when Red had given the young girl food vanished instantly. The girl ran behind the boy, and since Red was still holding him, red as well. The boy's pulse, which her grip let her feel sped up even more. His eyes grew wide wish shock.

"You have found my brother and sister," the man said in English. "Thank you. I was so worried."

The lie was so blatant that Red doubted she was supposed to believe it. There was no resemblance between the three of them, and she was pretty sure the older man was of Pakistani descent. The girl and boy were clearly natives of the streets. Not to mention the instant reaction in both children to this man. If he was their brother he was at best an abusive nightmare to cause the to children to react so. Even her catching the little boy in the act of attempted theft had provoked defiance and bluster. There was none of that now. There was only an overwhelming fear.

No the man did not expect her to believe that these children wanted anything to do with him. Instead this man was banking that she was a stranger. She was supposed to notice the way he carried himself, and the other men following him at a respectable distance. She was supposed to think that these children weren't her problem and go her merry way. And if she did think about intervening the obvious posse was to show her she was outnumbered. And to distract her while more goons took up positions in side alleys around the busy main street.

And he was right. These children weren't her problem. No matter what she wouldn't see them again, so why should she risk her life for them. But he was wrong too. She wasn't a hero anymore. She no longer deluded her self into thinking that flipping around could affect any real change in the world. She'd seen and done too much for that. But there was no way in hell a gang of two bit thugs was going to intimidate her into doing anything.

It happened all the time in too many areas of the globe. Some hard bitten sociopath set up shop and corralled the local toughs and bastards who mostly lacked consciences into a gang. The parasites thrived at the expense of the poor and weak. Property was there to be damaged, citizens there to be enslaved and used for profit. Any perceived resistance, such as looking directly at them, was met with an overwhelming display of cruelty. A survival mechanism to ensure that the populace would be too fearful to seek help from each other or an authority. And they coerced and bribed the authorities as well, to drive in the bitter truth that there was no safety to be had anywhere.

What exactly these sick freaks wanted with the kids Red didn't want to know. Red hot rage surged through her, and her muscles tensed as the 'brother' laid his hand upon her shoulder.

"Get out of here toots. These kids ain't worth getting hurt over. Though if you're looking for a good time-"

The snap of his wrist breaking interrupted the rest of his lame come on. It wasn't meant to convince her of anything, not really. There was a not at all subtle subtext that he'd be having a good time at her expense whether she wanted it or not.

For that she first used her hold on his broken wrist to drive him down to his knees and then stomped her foot down as hard as she could on his juevos. The sharp shriek that left his mouth as his face became a pale color more than compensated for the threat and the sniggering of his cronies. Another stomp broke the fingers on his remaining hand.

The thugs were standing in surprise. They hadn't expected their leader to be so brutally defeated. Unfortunately for them their surprise didn't turn into fear. Instead brains unsuitable for tasks more complicated than beating on those deemed weak, determined that charging was the best option.

Red didn't wait for them to reach her. With a savage grin she leapt into the air, higher than the fools on the ground thought was possible. Behind her the sun rose to the pinnacle of its daily arc. Her shadow coated the ground and she was eclipsed by the brilliance of the midday sun. She could see the thugs squinting as they tried to discern where she was.

Below and behind her Nana gasped. Her young small face lit up with awe and envy. She wanted to be able to do that. The boy that now stood his ground in front of her, was shocked. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Red didn't think about the impossible. She didn't think of the odds, or the height of her leap. That was one thing she'd kept from her youthful days. When the time came for action you never accepted the word impossible. Nay saying and second guessing were for before and after a decision was made. Once you had committed you stopped thinking about impossibilities and instead focused on evaluating the situation and yourself.

She knew she was good. She'd spent more than two decades fighting. It was true that in the last decade she had mainly spent her time focusing on single combat. The opportunities to take on even a group of badly organized thugs were rare and far between. Generally it was the local fighter's friends who didn't want to part with the cash they'd staked on him. But she'd spent her time honing her body, her skills to as close to perfection as she could manage. The men and women she fought against demanded no less. Each and everyone of them made a living kicking the shit out of other equally skilled fighters. Every sloppy attack, and weak point in a form had to be examined and shored up. Losses could expose the worst mistakes. At first it had taken time to correct. Over time she'd learned to identify what had gone wrong and adapt in the midst of battle.

As for her childhood… She'd spent that fighting too. While most children fought against peer pressure and local bullies she'd stepped it up a notch. It was true most of the villains she'd foiled were scientists. They focused mostly on strange inventions and stranger plans. Most of them couldn't hold a candle to her physically. Instead they hired large amounts of muscular men who were trained to fight together as a squad. She'd developed techniques for fighting multiple opponents, stay alert, stay flexible. Don't over focus. Make a strike and move on. Try and conserve energy and movement and only commit to an attack when you can make it count.

As it turned out the techniques were much like riding a bicycle. You never quite forgot. At the apex of her leap she'd already chosen her next target. He was standing next to a wooden crate that came up to about waist height. Behind it was a fruit stall.

She landed behind him in a crouch. From there she dropped forward, using her hands and a knee as a pivot point to drive her other leg into a sweep. The thickly muscled thug's feet fell out from under him, propelling him slightly forward and mostly down. His chin collided heavily with the wooden crate and fell limp. Not wasting any more time on him Red sprang forward into the gap between two more goons who were trying to rush to the aid of their friend.

They hadn't expected to meet the woman head on, and each tried to hastily prepare a haymaker to catch the redhead clear in the skull. They each used the fist closest to her skull. It was child's play to avoid the two punches. Neither man was set right and the speed and power of the blows came solely from their arms. It wasn't much more effort to reach up with both her hands and grab the passing wrists. She pulled down as she stepped forward, wrenching both of the arms. Had the assailants been prepared, and attempting to root themselves to the spot, there would have been little she could have done from her positon. As it was however, their weight was poorly distributed and the hurried blows had given their bodies momentum. This was compounded by the momentum of Red's attack, and the two men flipped over, striking their heads heavily onto the street.

Not slowing down, Red leapt over the next man to come at her, taking note of the knife he was wielding when he did so. She landed behind him and latched her arms around his neck. The knife clattered to the street, kicking up a cloud of dust as he struggled to pry her arms away.

Choking him out was taking time she didn't have. Already another man was rushing at her from behind. She could hear his thick soled boots stomping the ground. His voice was raised in a wordless roar of anger and machismo. Pushing hard against the ground Red pushed herself into the air, without releasing her hold. Instead he put greater pressure on the man, using him to support her weight. She coiled her legs up and kicked them out as the rushing goon came closer. The kick caught him square in the chest and sent him stumbling backwards gasping for air. His comical large gaped path ended when he collided with another goon who rushed out of an alleyway to help.

As the two went down another cloud of dust rose up from the street. Letting her feet once again rest on the street, Red remained alert as the feeble pawing of the man under her began to crawl to a halt. Soon his eyes rolled back n his head and she could feel his body slacken. Letting the unconscious man fall in a heap, Red transitioned into a double backwards hand spring, which brought her heels down into the chest of the man she'd sent sprawling. From her perch on top of him she delivered a strong blow to his chin. The combined attack was too much for him, and he too passed out. Getting up he hauled the idiot under him up, and with as much momentum as she could generate twisting around hurled him into the nearest stand. It was a shoddy thing constructed of weak timbers of wood. The merchant running it had run away before Red had resumed paying attention to the street. The thug went crashing through it, generating a large amount of noise and the complete collapse of the stall.

Ready to face the next challenger she looked around. There was no one left. The remaining thugs had run off, too scared to fight her and using the desire to alert their superiors as a rationalization.

All that was left of the gang were the thugs she'd beaten senseless and their still screaming leader. He was tougher than the rest of them she'd give him that. As she walked over to him she decided to see just how tough.

She knelt down next to him, resting her arms onto her upper thighs. She looked into his eyes and placed a finger over his mouth as he kept hurling obscenities.

"Now, those aren't nice words and if you're not careful you might offend me." She trailed the finger down his body until she reached the fingers of the broken hand nearest her. She gently hooked her pointer around his middle finger and pulled the broken digit back.

"You wouldn't like me when I'm offended," she said, still smiling serenely. She kept the finger held back as she slowly counted to five. And the lifted the pressure, and returned the digit to its normal position, but did not remove her finger.

"Now I am going to ask you a question, and you're going to lie to me or maybe just tell me off. And I won't like that so I'm going to have to hold your finger up," she repeated the motion, "for ten whole seconds this time." She watched the beads of sweat run down his face and his pupils dilate as he screamed louder and louder with each number she counted out. When she reached ten she once again returned the finger to its resting place.

"Now that wasn't very nice was it. And the next time it'll be twenty seconds. The time after that forty seconds. And each and every time I'll double it. Until you not only tell me what I want to know but you convince me that you're telling me the truth. And right now you're thinking a naughty word and that I'm crazy. And you're thinking I won't get away with it. And you're thinking that at any moment someone will help you. But I have a secret for you,"

She leaned over, bringing her lips tantalizing close to his and increasing the pressure on his finger just enough to prevent him from trying to take advantage of her closeness.

"No one is going to help you. Not the worthless pieces of excrement you call friends, they've run away leaving you to me. Not your bosses. You're a small fry and an useless one at that. Not even the cops or good natured townspeople, because you're a piece of scum who prays on defenseless kids. So it's just you and me on this street, and I'd love an excuse to justify causing you as much pain as possible for the rest of the day. But I'm a good person. So I'll give you a chance to spare yourself," she pulled the finger back, and held it, counting out to twenty, "forty more seconds of this. So you're going to tell me, what you wanted the kids for, who calls the shots, and where I can find him. And believe me, nothing he can do to you is worse than the living hell you're going to endure at my hands, if you even hesitate to share or protest about how awful he is. "

And as he looked into Red's face he didn't see a bluff, didn't see someone who would back down. He no longer saw a piece of meat ready for his not so tender affection. Instead he saw a monster. A creature that had snapped his bones as easily as he'd planned to force himself upon her. She'd shown no remorse or mercy. She hadn't flinched when she'd tortured him.

In his life Samuel had made his fair share of bad decisions and morally wrong choices. The paths and alleyways he'd chosen to lead his life along didn't allow for mercy or kindness. If those were traits you admired you found other lines of work. Samuel hadn't. He enjoyed the power, the rush of being the big man. He liked the money and the perks of his profession. Why should he care about these little rats or if they weren't interested in his affections. He was bigger, stronger, and could take what he wanted.

But there had always been lurking in those alleys the predators that even he wouldn't touch. Some of them were barely eighty pounds, mostly sacks of skin. But you could feel it in the way they moved, acted, spoke and laughed. Especially in what they laughed about. They were the psychos. The ones who'd slowly murder someone while forcing themselves upon them. They were the ones who came up with ridiculous tests of loyalty just so you'd fail and they could make an example of you. When he'd run into one of those he kept his head down and follow orders. He didn't want one of them taking an interest in him. The current enforcer in charge of the project was one of them.

But right there, in that moment, he knew he'd never been, and would never be as terrified of anyone as he would the redhead who quietly and without remorse or joy, laid out the truth. She would do worse to him than force the pain of a broken bone on him. She'd be methodical, precise, and she wouldn't stop when the joy ran out or she got bored. Because she didn't care about his pain. She wanted something, and he pitied the idiot who had it.

He told her everything. Even the things she hadn't asked to know. When he was finished, she asked a few clarifying questions, which he'd answered, and then she'd left him there, conscious and in pain on the street taking the small children he'd come to collect with her.

And under the hot sun, he knew that for once he'd done the right thing.