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The large, bulky figure walked down the darkened street. Rain poured down and the ground cars splashed water from puddles onto the footpath.
The figure pulled the long leather coat around itself, the wide brimmed hat covering enough of its face to leave just a shadow. It drew back from the water as if it were acid.
The figure walked for several more blocks before the weather changed. The rain stopped suddenly, the air left crisp and clear. This felt wrong for London; the smog of the industry was missing, an eerie sight for those used to this area. On the roadside was parked a large van.
Several people moved out from the building opposite the van. A small man surrounded by larger men. The bulges in their coats suggested they were heavily armed. The one near the back caught the bulky figure passing by with his elbow. The growl from the tall, well-covered individual was bestial, but the sound was low and the armed man ignored it. The group bundled into the van.
The dark figure watched as the van started up, until long after the van had moved away, off up the street. It looked to the floor, crouching down and inhaling, then suddenly stood up and continued down the street. The figure moved quickly for a couple of blocks and then slowed down to its usual slow trudge.
It was the scream that caused him to stop again. From the alley the figure had just passed, more screams followed. He moved back to see.
The sight down the alley was simple, rubbish in and out of bins lined the walls where a naked female was crouching, curled, her back to the dead end. Surrounding her were four gangers, their denim and leather clothing covered with dagger symbols. The figure in black approached them.
"I must warn you, I am going to kill you." The voice from under the hat was soft but piercing.
The four men turned to the figure, the first one moving to approach him.
"Man, you made a big mistake. No one threatens the Daggers!"
"It was not a threat. You may do as you wish."
Before anyone else could move, the first ganger lashed out with a knife into the dark figure's gut. The figure, who towered a couple of feet above the ganger, seemed not to notice. Instead, it reached out with two inhuman hands and placed them either side of the ganger's head. The ganger screamed and his friends watched in horror as he was lifted off his feet by the dark figure.
"Your killer's name is Maxwell. I hope you enjoy your afterlife."
CRACK!
The ganger went limp, neck broken. His friends stood in amazement for a few seconds before they decided to remove this threat.
A second ganger swung a heavy metal bar which Maxwell easily blocked, knocking the ganger back to the alley wall. The other two reacted by reaching beneath their long leather coats for weapons. The one drawing the pistol got it levelled but Maxwell moved with inhuman speed, putting claws into the man's neck. During this action his hat flew off and coat flew open, revealing the large, bear-like look of an unnaturally armoured physique. The unfortunate ganger started to drown noisily in his own blood.
Maxwell turned on the remaining ganger, looking straight into the barrel of the levelled shotgun. The force of the single blast threw him back several feet and he landed on his back. Struggling up, the ganger who had earlier been thrown against the wall swung his bar again at the now prone target. This turned out, however, to be a little stupid as Maxwell caught the bar and then grabbed the man. He threw the man aside again and stood, showing the minimal damage he had obtained from the shotgun round. He threw the bar and it embedded itself in the too slow gunman's head. With no one else left Maxwell advanced on the woman.
He was lifting his arm to strike when a new wave of pain wracked through him, causing him to fall back. He dropped to his knees.
"You are lucky; I will not kill you." He eventually managed to say.
"Please," the woman said, "who are you?"
Maxwell dragged the corpse of the first man over and removed his shirt and trousers. He threw them to the woman. "My name is Maxwell. Put these on."
The woman seemed puzzled. She tried to stand but seemed unused to her legs, like a newborn foal. Seeing this confusion, Maxwell dragged the shirt over the woman's head. He then awkwardly helped her into the trousers. The clothes fitted badly as she was a lot shorter than the six foot tall ganger. The knee-length coat of the shotgun owner hung to the woman's ankles and the boots rose almost to her knees, but she was at least clothed.
"What was going on here?" Maxwell asked.
Again the woman looked confused.
"I'm not sure, I've never been like this before. I'm looking for my friend. He left me."
"Not much of a friend then."
"But he was my good friend. He helped me escape."
"Escape what?"
"My bondage. My prison. The place I could only reach out from. He called me his immortality and he said he could not see me any more."
"Seems a bit odd. How did he save you then?"
"Well, Sam said he had seen me born. I'm not too sure about it. I seem to be having problems remembering."
"Well, perhaps we can help each other?"
"Perhaps."
Maxwell helped the woman down and out of the street.
"Your name, do you remember that?" he asked.
"Oh yes," she replied. "Ada."
Paul Taylor, 12/08/01
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