Let's Make a Deal
530 words


Mica had always been a bit of a loner. She didn’t mind teaming up, she just never did for any length of time. Sure, she had her Captain, but even then, Mica was used to acting on her own. Didn’t bother her normally. Normally. This wasn’t normal.

Word had reached Mica of the abduction. Wolframite. Tanzanite. How the Senshi had managed to get them, Mica didn’t know, but they had succeeded.

Mica didn’t like to think of Senshi being successful.

Prowling Knocktown, Mica was restless. It was like ants, like ice, like fire, and the more Mica hated the feeling the more she felt it. She didn’t like it; didn’t like the burn, didn’t like to feel impotent. Normally she’d welcome it, this reprieve from numbness, but no. Normally.

Turning towards Heritage Park, she felt no satisfaction in the bum that scrabbled to get out of her way. The fire just burned more, brighter, and Mica couldn’t help but scratch and itch. Drinking hadn’t helped. Dancing – the glorious bass, the writhing bodies – hadn’t helped; her one-track mind couldn’t focus. All else had failed, so she would try fighting. She wanted a Senshi.

Mica had no luck. No Senshi seemed to be in the vicinity. She paced back and forth, lapped the park, but none of the self-righteous bastards appeared. She was ready to leave, to try drugs – a last resort – when she heard the shots in the distance. Someone was running towards her, someone shoved her-

- and they were down. Mica didn’t remember moving, didn’t remember doing it, but the fleeing thug was on his back, out cold. Using her foot, Mica tilted the tattooed head, saw the tattoos, and wanted so badly to smash his face in. More footsteps. Mica turned to face the newcomers, wanting more.

“ You got some nice moves.”

… ?

“ You take karate or something?”

This was unexpected. “ Or something.”

There were three thugs. Obvious, stereotypical thugs: baggy pants and gansta walk. The middle one, the leader, walked up to her.

“ Who you rollin’ with?”

Rolling with? “ No one.”

“ You out in this ‘hood this late, lookin’ that fine, and you ain’t rollin’ with no one? Girl, you must be stupid.”

“ I can take care of myself, remember?” She nodded to the body.

“ Yeah, you right. You handle yo-self and yo business better then my boys handle theirs’. Shot a million bullets and ain’t hit a damn thing.”

“ So?”

“ So? Bullets are noisy, girl. Noisy and expensive, plus they attract cops. Now you, you nice ‘n quiet. Not bad lookin’ either. What you cost?”

Mica got the implication. At first, she was tempted to punch them – like she’d fight for them – but reconsidered.

“ He’s not dead. Dead costs.”

The thug didn’t seem pleased by that answer. He drew a gun and pointed it at her.

“ This get me a discount?”

Mica threw her cane, knocking his aim off, and then was at his side in a flash, hand at his throat, ignoring the two other guns now aimed at her.

“ I let you live, you call off the dogs.”

The man nodded and Mica backed off, the two eyeing each other.

“ I’ll consider it, depending on the target. I’ll want a favor in return too.”

“ Cash and a favor?”

“ You can always handle your business yourself.”

The staring match resumed, and finally the man looked away. “ Fine, deal. How I reach you?”

“ You don’t.” Said Mica shortly. “ I’ll find you.”

“ How? You like Batgirl or somethin’?”

“ Or something.”