A few swipes of the assailant's black shirt against the bloodied blade clears that evidence.
Mindy doesn't wait for his death, the soft gurgle of a man choking on his own blood, ignoring the sound to step toward the other person in this game. Far too dark to see the damage done, but light enough for assumption to lend a hand, and for her to make out the dark lump of two bodies. Unlike many of the others today, Brian Moser isn't a victim. A victim doesn't end up unscathed with the corpses of his attackers laid around him. In tune with Mindy's logic, this leaves her with a feeling of respect for this stranger, respect for one's ability to fight his own battles, to not allow himself to play victim amongst unpredictable forces. There's a bitter edge though, as respect also draws defense on her part.
She doesn't trust anyone, especially not strangers.
After a few steps forward, she remains there standing. A divide of street and darkness wedged between them, wide enough that either would have to run to catch the other.
There's an amusement to his tone, hard to pick out perhaps because he's speaking very low, with a rough and unaccustomed edge. For reasons that may be obvious, cooling in the street between them, he'd prefer not to give her any clues to his identity. Still; there's something he likes about the ruthlessness she's shown, whatever her reasons. Call it kinship between predators. Right now, he's just a little over the edge (and yet so much more centered than before,) a little too wild to fit back into the persona he keeps up during the day.
The fact that the figure before him is so diminutive doesn't really bother him, the way it might others. Brian isn't in the habit of preying on children, for any number of reasons-- but being what he is, he knows that young need not mean innocent. There's something funny about the scene; his mind goes to the right place, children playing dress-up, though in his world it's more a matter of monsters playing at being heroes. That's all right by him, though vigilantism has always seemed silly, based as it is on a morality he doesn't subscribe to.
"There were more than I thought," he adds casually, flatly. The lack of concern or compassion is obvious from the rolling shrug that accompanies his word, a movement of darkness on darkness where he stands, head tilted slightly to one side as he regards the mess in the street. It's as close to a thank-you as she'll get from him. He'd have gone after them all either way. Still, assistance means time for more personal attention, and he can't help but appreciate that.
She doesn't expect a thank you. If she fought crime for the sake of gratitude, for the feeling of doing something good that often is the faulty screw in the authenticity of altruism, then maybe a "thank you" would be expected of Brian. Yet, what she fights for are her principles, the clear black and white cut of bad and good in which she serves as justice. He may think it silly, but shouldn't Brian know well how the influence of youth permeates ones personality?
"Saying you couldn't handle it yourself," she teases, striking a grin muffled by the darkness.
What Mindy's trying to place now is Brian's role in this game of black and white, where on the checkerboard he sits-- an enemy or an ally? Hard to judge when you can barely see the other's face, a veil of darkness rubbing out distinction. She's spent hours perusing the network, assigning face to name to detail, so maybe a small glance is all she needs to make a judgment. However, trust is the issue here, and she figures it's not worth it to bother with this man anymore. Her job was done, and that was that. In and out was how superheroes kept both their identity and safety secure, and this encounter would be no different.
"Don't get your ass kicked, dude."
Mindy ends her farewell with a childish chuckle, before backpedaling backwards to start off on a dash to some place or another-- wherever help was needed.
He knows that all too well, and perhaps vigilantism wouldn't leave such a sour taste in his mouth if it wasn't a learned behavior, passed on father to daughter, bastard to son. He's on too much of a high to goad her for it now, though when he comes back down-- an even deeper low, no doubt, but right now it seems worth it-- certainly he'll recall this meeting and wonder. He's trying to gauge the details as well as he can, but everything is sharp edges and the scent of blood in his mind, right now.
"Would've been less fun," he counters her first comment, the sharp smile an evident tone in his voice. Strange times make strange allies, and for tonight, to an extent they want the same thing. It's only circumstance and convenience. He doesn't have a sense of justice.
"Don't stay out past your bedtime," he teases back as she goes, stooping to wipe his knife. A waste, dead men in alley, only so much discarded flesh. He's had his fun at least.
Mindy doesn't wait for his death, the soft gurgle of a man choking on his own blood, ignoring the sound to step toward the other person in this game. Far too dark to see the damage done, but light enough for assumption to lend a hand, and for her to make out the dark lump of two bodies. Unlike many of the others today, Brian Moser isn't a victim. A victim doesn't end up unscathed with the corpses of his attackers laid around him. In tune with Mindy's logic, this leaves her with a feeling of respect for this stranger, respect for one's ability to fight his own battles, to not allow himself to play victim amongst unpredictable forces. There's a bitter edge though, as respect also draws defense on her part.
She doesn't trust anyone, especially not strangers.
After a few steps forward, she remains there standing. A divide of street and darkness wedged between them, wide enough that either would have to run to catch the other.
"Hey. That was pretty good."
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There's an amusement to his tone, hard to pick out perhaps because he's speaking very low, with a rough and unaccustomed edge. For reasons that may be obvious, cooling in the street between them, he'd prefer not to give her any clues to his identity. Still; there's something he likes about the ruthlessness she's shown, whatever her reasons. Call it kinship between predators. Right now, he's just a little over the edge (and yet so much more centered than before,) a little too wild to fit back into the persona he keeps up during the day.
The fact that the figure before him is so diminutive doesn't really bother him, the way it might others. Brian isn't in the habit of preying on children, for any number of reasons-- but being what he is, he knows that young need not mean innocent. There's something funny about the scene; his mind goes to the right place, children playing dress-up, though in his world it's more a matter of monsters playing at being heroes. That's all right by him, though vigilantism has always seemed silly, based as it is on a morality he doesn't subscribe to.
"There were more than I thought," he adds casually, flatly. The lack of concern or compassion is obvious from the rolling shrug that accompanies his word, a movement of darkness on darkness where he stands, head tilted slightly to one side as he regards the mess in the street. It's as close to a thank-you as she'll get from him. He'd have gone after them all either way. Still, assistance means time for more personal attention, and he can't help but appreciate that.
Reply
"Saying you couldn't handle it yourself," she teases, striking a grin muffled by the darkness.
What Mindy's trying to place now is Brian's role in this game of black and white, where on the checkerboard he sits-- an enemy or an ally? Hard to judge when you can barely see the other's face, a veil of darkness rubbing out distinction. She's spent hours perusing the network, assigning face to name to detail, so maybe a small glance is all she needs to make a judgment. However, trust is the issue here, and she figures it's not worth it to bother with this man anymore. Her job was done, and that was that. In and out was how superheroes kept both their identity and safety secure, and this encounter would be no different.
"Don't get your ass kicked, dude."
Mindy ends her farewell with a childish chuckle, before backpedaling backwards to start off on a dash to some place or another-- wherever help was needed.
Reply
"Would've been less fun," he counters her first comment, the sharp smile an evident tone in his voice. Strange times make strange allies, and for tonight, to an extent they want the same thing. It's only circumstance and convenience. He doesn't have a sense of justice.
"Don't stay out past your bedtime," he teases back as she goes, stooping to wipe his knife. A waste, dead men in alley, only so much discarded flesh. He's had his fun at least.
Reply
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