What's this? A new story! Yay!
Welcome to my "Little Rose" 'verse, yet again. Remember, you don't need to be a fan of The Cape to read this, nor do you have to be a fan of the Trauma Center franchise. Your reviews are definitely encouraged. I've already seen some difficulty with this first chapter, so if I want these other 10 chapters to go smoothly as planned, I really need to hear your thoughts about this.
Here goes; I do not own the Trauma Center franchise, nor The Cape.
Second Chance: Chapter One- Pilot: Heroes v. Villains
Vince Faraday was an average All-American-Boy. He had been in Palm City all of his life. He was a part of the PCPD, just like his father. Within the 32 years of the cop's life, he had gotten married and had a son. Family was exceptionally important to him; his wife Dana and nine-year-old son Trip were like the center of his universe.
This is the story of how his life was torn to pieces in a matter of hours, and how he tried to win it all back.
Within the ten years that ARK had been in business, Vince grew more and more wary of it. He felt as though the PCPD was getting pushed out of the way to make room for the security business. It wasn't much to destroy the police department, at the time anyway.
When new chief of police was selected, that was when problems really began to arise.
Security had been tight on the day of the press conference to welcome the new chief. The criminal mastermind known as Chess became a real threat in the past ten years. Rumor was that he was targeting the new chief.
Vince thought that everything was going well. When the press conference was over, there wasn't a sign of Chess anywhere. However, he was quickly proven wrong when his co-workers claimed to be called off. That Vince had called them off. Right then he realized that something was very wrong.
The cop raced to the van that he knew belonged to his chief. He hoped that it was a random happening; it was his job to make sure that Chief Ross was safe.
When Vince came up on the van, it was locked from the inside. Dammit, he had to get in there! Unfortunately, he was too slow for his own good. No matter how many times that he lifted the door handle, or how many times he stood back to shoot the windows in hopes to shatter them, it was to no avail.
Seconds later, the cop was thrown back from an explosion that detonated in the vehicle itself.
The new chief of police was dead, which gave Chess leeway. Evil had won the battle once; no matter how hard he worked to stop it from winning again, Vince wouldn't ever learn that he was knocking on evil's front stoop until it was too late.
Talk around Palm City was that the PCPD would soon be taken over. Peter Fleming and his business ARK Corporation were working hard each and every day to get closer to taking over the police force.
He promised a better world. As now that he had an adopted daughter to look after, he wanted this new world for her.
Of course, this was partly false information. While he did care for little Rosalia's well-being what he had in mind for Palm City may not be better. If the utopia of an average Palm City resident was Fleming gaining full power over the city, then you were in luck! His other personality, Chess, just did all of his dirty work for him.
However, many people weren't aware of the billionaire's ulterior motives. The citizens were, for the most part, awaiting the time for him to take over.
Vince Faraday wasn't very sure of where he fell into this criteria. He was quite wary of Peter Fleming's plan to change Palm City, yet he was convinced to meet with the CEO of the company that was trying to change his hometown.
What this world had come to, the cop had no clue.
On the day that Vince went with his best friend, Marty, to meet with Fleming, Rosalia had decided that she wanted to draw the throng of people that had passed by her father figure's building. And what better view could she have, other than from the huge windows in the CEO's office.
Peter tried to tell the little blonde that he would be busy, but she nonchalantly replied that she didn't care. She would be too busy drawing, anyway. The billionaire just left her alone at that.
When Vince and Marty came up to his office, Rosalia was sitting down in front of the huge glass windows. The sandy blonde cop knew that Fleming had an adopted daughter, and he felt really sorry for her. They probably never spent any time together. God forbid that he had biological kids in the past…
The little blonde picked her head up at the sound of the door closing. "Mr. Fleming?" she called out shyly, only to freeze when she saw both police officers walking into the room. "Um, hi…"
Vince flashed Rosalia a little grin. "Hey there, kiddo. We were just looking for him. Do you know where he is?"
The bright-pink eyed blonde shook her head. "He told me that he would be right back…," she added quietly.
"Okay. We can wait," the sandy blonde smiled back gently. Poor girl looked really nervous.
Rosalia tucked herself back into her drawing, sticking her tongue out as she concentrated further.
A few moments later, Fleming came back into the room. He was greeted by Marty, who began with, "Mr. Fleming, this is the police officer I was telling you about."
"Vince Faraday," the billionaire shook the younger man's hand and gave him a light grin. "Nice to meet you; I've heard many things about you."
The sandy blonde nodded, feeling a little uneasy. What did Marty say about him?
Fleming walked towards the window his adopted daughter was sitting next to and looked down at the pedestrians that walked along the sidewalks. He cupped one hand in the other as he replied to his possible employee, "ARK is going to change everything, Vince. I hope you keep your nose clean."
"I don't take bribes, sir," Vince added, slightly offended. Obviously, Marty hadn't said enough.
"Forgive me; that was rude," the CEO began, tossing the sandy blonde an apologetic look. He then shiftet his weight onto his other foot and looked back out the window. "You're a home-town boy, aren't you?"
"Born and raised. I used to play ball in Ditmus Park back when I was a boy," Vince began, motioning to the general whereabouts of the park. "And my father used to be a Palm City Sherriff."
"You must be having mixed feelings about this whole thing, then," Peter Fleming said.
"I just wanna be a cop," the sandy blonde replied in all seriousness.
"Good answer. You surely won't regret this. I want you the clock first thing Monday morning," the billionaire met with his employee again and gave him a knowing look.
As Vince and Marty left the room, Rosalia picked her head up and looked back at her father figure. "Mr. Vince seems really nice."
Oh yes. Vince was nice. Nice enough to take the blame for Chess' crimes. This would make it all the more easier to gain control of the PCPD. The more 'good' Fleming does, the more citizens he would get on his side.
An investigative blogger known as Orwell was possibly one of the biggest nuisances that Fleming had ever faced. Not only did he, (or who they would assume to be a he. Orwell's voice recordings were always very deep and manly), know of the billionaire's true identity, but he tried to prove it on a daily basis.
However, his plans never seemed to work like the way he wanted them to. Orwell wanted results, but he wasn't getting very many.
The blogger posted everything he ever found on his website. Hell, there was even a rumor that the PCPD were Orwell Is Watching followers.
Vince was slightly wary of the blogger. He had no idea if he was fooling around with Palm City or not. Sure, ARK wasn't the most homely business out there, but only time would tell if it was all it claimed to be.
The sandy blonde padded over to his computer chair and turned the PC and monitor on. As he waited for the computer to boot up, he let his mind wander. Vince began to think of the little girl back at ARK. Just how happy could she be there? Surely, Fleming would not be able to spend quality time with her. The billionaire was too busy trying to take over PCPD, Vince highly doubted that this gave Rosalia and Peter a little, if any, time to spend together. He had to wonder just how well the little blonde dealt with that.
By the time the computer was fully booted, Vince clicked on the internet icon to check his e-mail. However, as he did so, a dark red window came up on the screen.
The cop stared back at the screen, frowning at the Orwell Is Watching logo that appeared a second or so later.
"Hello, Vince," came from the computer speakers. The voice was deep and very recognizable. It was Orwell himself messaging Vince. "This is Orwell. Sorry to hear that you're leaving the force. This town needs more honest cops like you. You really believe all of this hype about how ARK is going to make the city safer? Well… not so fast," the blogger's monotone voice paused for a moment as a picture of an explosive was brought up. "This is L-9. The same explosive that took the life of Chief Ross."
Vince studied the container that was labeled L-9 in the picture. Something told him to remember that…
"How did L-9 reach Palm City?" the blogger asked rhetorically before showing another picture. This time it was of a strange looking man, who looked like he had Scales instead of skin. "This man. Dominic Raoul, a.k.a. Scales. Not just a pretty face, he owns one of the biggest smuggling organizations on the West Coast."
The sandy blonde's forehead crinkled in confusion. He still had no idea why Orwell was contacting him of all people. Maybe it was just because he was going to work for ARK. Maybe Vince's suspicions were right and there was more to Peter Fleming than meets the eye.
"Tonight there is a shipment of L-9 coming in on an ARK freight car. Let's see if you're still a cop, Vince. We'll keep in touch."
The screen went back to normal with that, leaving Vince to his thoughts.
The freight yard was a pretty eerie place after dark. Just the homeless men alone would give you the chills. Which was why, if you ever went after dark, it was extremely important to call for back up.
After Vince received that e-mail from Orwell, he scrambled for his phone and called his best friend. Marty agreed to meet with Vince in the freight yard and arrived just a little after the sandy blonde did.
By the time Marty found Vince, he was already searching in the ARK freight cars.
"Man, have you lost your mind? Vince, this is illegal."
"You think that's illegal?" the sandy blonde reached into the car he was at and pulled out a little baby doll. He held it out in front of Marty, who just looked back at him in disbelief.
The other cop looked inside of the freight car and read the box it came out of. "Pammy Pees… hours of toilet training fun?" Marty shot him another glance.
Vince then swiftly popped the baby doll's head off, revealing a container of L-9. "I dunno about you, but I'm thinking recall."
"Look, I don't know. ARK is a big business, Vince," Marty caught something from the corner of his eye, which made his body tense. If he tried to warn Vince about this, he would surely be killed for it.
ARK troops hurried over to both cops, snatching Vince by the arm.
The other cop looked baffled. "No, I've got this!" he shouted at the ARK troops. This was of no use. A moment later, the sandy blonde was injected with a sedative to render him unconscious.
Vince had no idea what he was going to have to deal with when he finally woke up. His life was going to change forever and all because he wouldn't stay in bed.
Vince was running for his life, literally. It turned out that he was right about something after all. Peter Fleming revealed himself as Chess to the sandy blonde. And now that he knew of it, he had to die.
This was why he was running for his life. More importantly, he was running for his life with Chess' mask on. Fleming had ordered his troops to staple the mask to Faraday's face. At that rate, Chess would be caught, and the billonaire would be free to take over the police force.
The framed cop couldn't believe what was going on around him. Helicopters full of ARK troops chased after him from above as he ran for cover in the freight yard. Even his best friend had turned on him. News reporters had gotten the word that Chess had been found and was being hunted down at that very moment.
Dana Faraday walked into her kitchen and noticed her son sitting down watching the morning news. She didn't mind him watching it, but sometimes she worried that he would hear a little too much.
"Hey," she greeted warmly. "Oatmeal okay, hun?"
The nod that Trip gave prompted the strawberry blonde to turn around and get to work.
"Where's dad?" the nine-year-old asked.
"I dunno. He must have gone to work early," Dana answered as she began cooking prep.
Trip focused in on the TV, frowning as the news reporter started talking about the action down at the freight yard. "Mom, I think they caught Chess. Do you think that's where dad is?"
"Maybe," the mother began, walking over to her son to place his breakfast in front to him before going back to the counter to clean up.
"Why did they say that?" the blonde boy frowned at the TV.
"Say what?" Dana asked.
"They said dad was Chess."
The strawberry blonde turned around in a whirl and padded over to the TV. "That's a mistake. You must not have heard it right."
Trip heard it right. Everyone who was watching the news thought that Vince Faraday was Chess. And a few moments later, they all thought that Vince blew up in an explosion.
However, when bullets were being fired at him, the framed cop took cover and fell down into an underground tunnel. It was only a few seconds later until the explosion occurred.
When Vince became conscious again, he did a double take at his surroundings. Where was he, at a carnival? He surrounded by four people, all who had clothing on fit for a circus.
"Wh- Where am I?" the sandy blonde asked, a bit discombobulated. It wasn't until then that he noticed that he was tied to a chair.
An older, wise, looking man named Max stared at him as if he was searching for something. "187 on the nose, am I right?"
A much shorter man by the name of Rollo stood next to Vince and slapped him as hard as he could for not responding to the older man. "He's trying to guess your weight, 187, is he right?"
Vince blinked at the sudden strike. This day just couldn't get any more worse. "187... Yeah, that's right."
Raia, a woman with blonde corkscrew curls, grinned as she spoke up, "he's never wrong."
"So you're Chess?" the older man questioned.
"No. I'm not Chess!" Vince fought back.
The older man's face fell. "Is there egg on my face?" he snapped his fingers, to which someone on stilts hurried towards the TV and turned it on with the end of a stilt.
The news reporter from before was recapping for those who had just tuned in. Apparently everyone thought that Vince, a.k.a. Chess, was dead.
The framed cop fumed at the TV. Oh this was just friggen great!
Vince and the strange people he had just met, known as the Carnival of Crime, finally made a deal. The carnival wanted money, and he wanted Peter Fleming charged for his crimes. Max, the oldest and wisest of the bunch, told Vince that if he helped the carnival get Peter Fleming's money, they would help him get back to Dana and Trip.
The first ting Vince did was hand over his ARK key card. That way, the carnival had access to every ARK operated bank in Palm City. It wasn't very long at all before the carnival did what they did best, and that was robbing banks.
The billionaire heard of the bank robbery just as quickly, and ordered to see the footage. He and Marty were in his office looking at the security feed, with Rosalia stretching on her tiptoes to see what was going on.
By the time that the robbery was caught on camera, the only thing to be seen was a raccoon dragging a bag of money as it scurried down the street.
The little blonde's face lit up at the sight of the animal. "Hey, Mr. Fleming? Can I get a pet raccoon?"
Fleming stared back at his adopted daughter in disbelief. "You want a raccoon?"
Rosalia nodded. "I like animals."
Her father figure sighed. "Well not this raccoon, Rose. Apparently this one is a thief," he sent a pointed look over to his employee.
"We're doing everything we can to find out who did this sir," Marty responded firmly.
The eight-year-old sighed and walked away from Peter and his head of security. Sometimes Mr. Fleming was very weird.
While nosing around in the carnival's costume room, Vince found a cloak that reminded him of the superhero in his son's favorite comic book "The Cape". As he tried it on, he was pleased to know that the cloak fit perfectly. Maybe he could use this to send a message to his son. It could be dangerous, but it was worth a try…
"I haven't seen this old rag in years," Max began, taking the cloak into his hands.
"I want to send my son a message. One man can make a difference, no matter what," Vince spoke, his voice thick with emotion. He looked Max in the eyes, letting him know that he was serious about this.
"What do you want me to do, Vincent? I can't help you."
"Max, you made me a promise! I held up my end of the bargain," the framed cop snapped.
"It takes time to master this spider silk," the magician looked back at the younger man. He was determined, wasn't he? A sigh drew from Max. "If you're this willing to learn, I'll help you," he leaned forward before continuing, "but you'll give me your soul, Vince Faraday."
On the road to mastering Max's cape, it took a lot of time and effort. The magician helped Vince learn all of the mechanics and tricks that can be used with a cape. Max wasn't kidding when he said that Vince would be giving over his soul.
Even the other carnies chipped in to help the framed cop. Raia was an acrobat and a dancer for the Carnival of Crime, but she was also Team Mom. When it came to looking over someone's health, she was right there. Rollo had the pleasure of testing Vince's fighting skills, and Raia was right there making sure that things wouldn't get too rough. Her husband Ruvi was in charge of teaching the sandy blonde hypnosis, and tricks among the mind. The snarky hypnotist wasn't the friendliest with the carnival's newest houseguest, much to everyone else's annoyance.
But, when Ruvi was trying to teach the framed cop hypnosis, hilarity ensued.
Vince and the hypnotist were sitting across from each other at the table that the carnival usually played cards and other games on.
Ruvi started out by moving his index and middle fingers in front of the sandy blonde. One finger would lift up and the other would drop. Back and forth. "The point is to not let the sucker know he's being hypnotized. So you talk about the weather, or my wife, she's giving me a hard time."
Vince had no idea that hypnosis worked. More importantly, he had no idea that it worked on him.
As the hypnotist's hand slammed down on the table, the framed cop was knocked out of his unknown trance. He blinked repeatedly and looked around, oblivious.
"What was that?" Vince asked.
"I just hypnotized you, sucker," Ruvi began smugly.
Vince snorted. "Yeah, okay right. You hypnotized me," he added in disbelief.
"Then uh," The hypnotist smirked, "Why are you wearing girly panties, Vincent?" he added in a hushed tone.
"I- what?" Vince sat up and pulled his shirt up. Sure enough, when he tugged at his underwear it was frilly and pink. He glowered back at the man opposite from him. "That is not cool, that is not cool, Ruvi!"
This little charade went around the carnival for weeks. The former cop was embarrassed, but he swore that he would seek revenge.
Of course, when he did, there was hell to pay. Both men sat across from each other like before, this time Vince was moving his fingers back and forth. He said not a word, but had the same effect as Ruvi had on him before.
As the framed cop slammed his hand down on the table, the hypnotist was snapped out of his trance.
"You wish," Ruvi shot back, "sucker."
Vince looked back at the other man and motioned towards his own chest.
The hypnotist looked down at his shirt and opened it up, revealing a bright red bra attached to his chest.
As their eyes met, the sandy blonde gave his own smug smirk. "Well, you give me a hundred bucks and I won't tell the crew."
Both men broke into a laugh, much to Ruvi's annoyance. His laughter was the first to die down. When it did, he punched the framed cop's face. "Don't get cocky," he warned Vince."
The sandy blonde was lucky to have finished his training when he did. He went to spy on the action going down at docks, but wasn't really prepared for the problems he would encounter.
Scales had brought in a shipment of L-9 at the docks. The docks were his domain. Anyone that tried to get in the way was seriously asking for trouble. This was what happened to poor Vince. The smuggler found Vince spying in a crouched position. He picked the former cop up and proceeded to pick a fight with the man who was dressed up in a cape. Vince fought back with all of his might, but it didn't matter. He was wrapped up in a tight chain cocoon and tossed into the water like useless garbage.
The deformed smuggler had walked off, not even caring that his opponent was sinking to his death.
Vince struggled to get out of the chains, but in the end, it just made it worse on himself. He took a deep breath and remembered what Max had told him in his training. He wasn't supposed to be afraid. Max had taught him what to do. Vince just clenched his eyes shut and let his mind lead his body out of the chains.
He climbed up the concrete leading to the pier and eased himself onto solid ground. Once he could finally get his footing back, he padded onto the warehouse where Scales did all of his deals in.
Vince looked around the warehouse floor from where he stood on the balcony above. There had to be something he could do. He caught something from the corner of his eye, causing him to look across from him. When he did, he saw a hooded figure snapping a few pictures of him. Who the hell was that, anyway?
The figure took off, as did Vince. He took a shortcut to catch up with whomever it was that he was chasing. In a flash, he tripped the hooded individual with a gumball machine. The figure fell to the ground along with the machine.
Vince frowned as the stack of papers that were once in the mystery person's hands, came tumbling down to the ground. Wait; were those Orwell-Is-Watching flyers?
The former cop glowered back at the figure, his anger turning into shock as the figure's hood dropped, revealing a young woman with wavy brunette hair.
"Wait, you're Orwell?" he asked in disbelief. Seeing as the woman didn't respond, he barked back at her, "Get up."
Orwell did so, but tried to defend herself in the process. She swung her tazer back at the vigilante, to which he knocked it out of her hand and grabbed her from behind.
"What are you, twelve?" he growled down at her.
"You're the one wearing long underwear and a cape!" the brunette fired back with venom on her tongue, blowing hair out of her face in the process.
"Fair enough," Vince began, releasing the blogger from a vice grip.
She proceeded to hurry away, only to have the vigilante trail after her.
"So, you're just going to leave? I think you owe me an explanation," Vince stared back at the mysterious woman, who continued to ignore him.
Orwell scoffed as she hurried down the corridor. "And why do you think that?"
Vince reached for her arm and bored his eyes into hers. "Because you were snapping pictures of me. You know, people who walk around in hooded costumes generally don't want people finding out their identity. I'm sure you can relate to that."
Orwell let out a hasty sigh. "Fine. Follow me."
The vigilante sent her a confused look. "Where are we going?"
"Do you want answers or not?" she snapped over her shoulder as she looked away from Vince.
He followed after her and came up on a shiny, electric blue car. "What, is this thing yours?"
"What did you expect, a bike?" Orwell quipped. The sandy blonde just stared back at her, to which prompted an eye roll from the blogger. "Get in."
The two sat in silence for the duration of the car ride. Vince would look over at the mysterious blogger every now and then. He was trying to figure her out, but it really wasn't very easy.
Orwell was just as curious as the man next to her was. Who the hell else knew about Peter Fleming?
When they got to the blogger's hideout, she ordered him to press a button in the car to open up the back entrance to her hideout. He obliged, not thinking that his fingerprints were in her grasp soon after that.
Vince and Orwell got out of the car and headed into the brunette's hideout. Everything was so state-of-the-art. Especially her tech!
The blogger slipped out of her jacket as she padded over to her computers. She sat down and began steadily typing at her virtual keyboard. "Who do you work for?" she deadpanned.
The sandy blonde frowned, not really sure how to answer that. "I don't work for anybody."
"Please," Orwell lightly scoffed, affixing her eyes onto her screen. "Just another mind game straight out of Peter Fleming's twisted brain."
The vigilante watched Orwell warily. "What are you doing?"
"Running the fingerprints from when you touched the button in the car. I'll find you," the brunette deadpanned. She then read the result that came up on her search engine, "Vince Faraday," in a whisper.
Vince hurried over to Orwell and grabbed her by the collar of her vest, his hood falling down in the process. "Vince Faraday is dead," he growled, "you put this on your blog and you put my family in danger and I swear to God-"
The brunette pushed him away in a haste. "We're on the same side, Vince!"
"How many cops did you rat out? I lost count," the vigilante countered.
"Dirty cops!" Orwell spat back.
They met with each other's eyes, a tension coming in between them that was so thick that it could be cut with a knife.
"Dirty cops, I wasn't," Vince glowered down at her shorter level. "You ruined my life."
"I just thought that you might want to know who it is you're working for," the blogger fought back.
"Yeah. Thank you. I found out, alright!" the vigilante shouted, stalking away from the brunette.
"So this is for real?" Orwell asked, her face lightening up. "You're fighting back?"
Vince watched as the woman drew closer to him. All of a sudden, she looked happier. Huh, well he couldn't really blame her. She was probably really lonely.
"Do I have a choice?" he asked as he gained control of his thoughts again.
The brunette blogger took in his ridiculous outfit. "Why the get-up?"
"I have my reasons," Vince responded firmly. "It's an unconventional war."
"I want to help you, Vince," Orwell began, her determination shown through her mannerisms.
The vigilante frowned and corrected her, "I'm the Cape."
"Cape, fine. I'm invisible to them and I have to stay that way. But you," she took him in with a tiny smile, "you can be a symbol. And trust me, I can help you hit Peter Fleming where he's weakest."
Vince was quiet. It was all good down on paper, but should he really agree to this?
"Together we can scare him. Together we can take this city back," Orwell added, looking back at him expectantly.
The Cape quickly agreed to this. Two was better than one, right?
Vince and Orwell hadn't had that much time to get to know each other before the vigilante got a phone call from the carnival.
In fact, he was just getting into prodding her for information when the call came in.
Apparently Max was in trouble. ARK took him away from the carnival and brought him to the Lady Luck ship on the docks where Chess was to deal with him. There was no doubt in Vince's mind that Fleming wanted Max dead.
Before he left, Orwell handed her partner a communication headset and said, "got your back." Vince gave her a gentle nod as a thank you before going to rescue his mentor.
When Vince got to the ship, he found Max running from ARK troops. He was nursing three different chest wounds, which worried the vigilante.
The ARK troopers had Max in a corner, to which Vince yanked them out of the way with his cape. This gave him some time to get Max out of there. The Cape wrapped an arm around his mentor, glancing at him warily.
"Max, try not to talk," he whispered to the magician.
"I'm the one dying here. I like to talk," Max weakly smirked back at the sandy blonde. "What you said about your boy stayed with me. Showing him one man can make a difference," the magician shook Vince lightly as he continued, "you take it from a man who never knew his father, or never had a son. That bond is what makes heroes. I wanna say something profound, last words and all, but," he broke the tense mood with a chuckle, "God I need a drink."
Vince stared back at his mentor, his Adam's apple getting caught with a lump in his throat. "Max," his eyes grew wide as he saw his mentor close his own eyes. Was it really over with?
The magician thought it was. He was exceptionally surprised when he peeked an eye open to see Vince. "Dammit, I thought that was it!"
The Cape stared back in shock and grinned lightly as he helped Max up.
"And I wasted that great speech," the magician grumbled.
Meanwhile, Chess was cooking up another one of his plans. He planned to blow up an entire shipment of L-9 in hopes that the citizens of Palm City would be so scared that they would be begging for ARK to fully take over. All it would take was one punch of a button on Fleming's cell phone.
Lucky for Vince, he managed to hear that. Not so lucky for him, however, he was caught in the process. The criminal snatched a gun from one of the troopers and tried to shoot at the vigilante. Vince was able to dodge the bullets and get away from him. He had to get the word out somehow…
As he slipped away from the action, he spoke to his partner through the headset, "Orwell, I need you to jam all cell phone activity within 500 feet."
"Got it," she replied as she went to work.
Chess caught up with Vince and started a fight with him. Uppercuts, jabs, and kicks were all being thrown between the two men.
The vigilante was thrown down to the ground, to which Chess picked him up and dangled over the side of the ship. Vince struggled to breathe as he was being strangled by his own cape.
"I'll find out who you are," the villain began darkly. "I'll find out who you love. I'll make them scream." As he finished that last threat, he swung Vince back over to the deck.
Vince frowned as Chess brought his phone up and pressed the button to detonate the bombs. Much to his annoyance, nothing happened.
"No bars?" the vigilante smirked. He snatched the phone out of the villain's hand with the cape, instantly having to fight Chess again.
However, the sound of helicopters hovering over the ship were enough for Chess to not get any revenge. He quickly shot a look back over at the Cape before jumping overboard.
Vince shook his head in disbelief. Really? Maybe the helicopters could have come in a little more discreet? That way, he could have gone home!
Then it hit him. He had to get out of there now. Before anyone else could spot him, he ran off of the ship and to more isolated ground.
Orwell smiled down as she spoke to her partner. "You did good out there, Vince."
The vigilante couldn't help but smile as well. "Yeah, you too, Orwell. But now you're the mystery. Who are you, anyways?"
The blogger closed out of her computer screen, her smile faltering in an instant. "No one special," she answered lightly.
Vince rolled his eyes and sighed. "Alright, Orwell. I'll be back in a little while. I need to go visit my son."
"Your son?" Orwell asked with a perplexed expression.
"That's why I'm wearing this get-up in the first place. So I can talk to him," the vigilante smiled a bit.
"Okay," the blogger nodded. "That's really thoughtful of you."
"Yeah," Vince took in another deep breath. "I'll see ya later." With that, he disconnected the headset he was using.
Orwell stared out into deep space. She could already tell that this was going to be a problem. He had ways of making her talk. And, God knew, she had many secrets to spill.
Again, this is where I give you my pitiful kitty eyes. Let me know what you thought.