GM: This is about as dark as I expect the tone to get in the New York Knights campaign. Both Mustang Sally and Action Man have full writeups available for you to view on the campaign wiki.

The woman’s dress was expensive, though not quite haute couture, and delicate, too, judging by how it had started to tatter along the hemline just from her running. She turned the blind corner into the alley at a full run, and right away she realized she’d made a fatal mistake. Hoping to find a short cut through the block, her arms now flagged in a mock semblance of their previous pumping, her strides slowing in defeat, until finally she reached the tall wood fence dead end and collapsed on the ground before it. Whoever had built that fence had likely done it to protect their garbage cans and rear exit. They might as well have put a gun to her head. As her head turned and she saw two running men enter the alley, she thought it might have been more merciful.

Her dress, once white, would likely never be so again. Her high heels pushed her along the ground away from her pursuers, one two-inch point snapping off in the process, until her back hit the wooden slats of the fence. Even in her terror at what was about to happen she had a thought that the streaks of grime would never come out, and she almost giggled.

Several more men, and another figure she couldn’t make out in the bad light from the street from the street behind them, came into the alley and slowed upon seeing her trapped.

“Here chicky, chicky, chicky…” One of the two men closest to her was smiling and gesturing towards her with a finger whose nail hadn’t seen clippers or soap in a long time. It was the same smarmy, pirate smile he had when she first approached them fifteen minutes ago.

“You run good, lady,” the other one, the black one, said as the others who had followed now drew close and formed a rough semi-circle around her, hemming her in against the fence. “You in good shape. Why don’choo lose the dress so’s we can see how good a shape you in?”

There was laughter among them and the one with the dirty finger and bad-intentioned smile grunted in amusement and started to undo his belt. She saw the dull glint of a streetlight off a knife blade in the black man’s hand as he reached for her.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The female voice cutting through the situation was unexpected enough to startle, but not enough that the seasoned street toughs showed it for more than a split-second. As a group they turned towards the figure standing behind them. She had gotten within ten feet but they had been too preoccupied with their nightly entertainment to notice. As the figure opened her trench coat and lifted the front of her fedora the toughs did flinch.

Good, she thought to herself, they’ve heard about me, at least. She’d been on patrol when the woman’s Lexus had conked out while taking a short cut through central Clinton, probably making for the West Side Highway from a Midtown after-work party. Driving that car and looking like she did was stupid enough in that neighborhood but when she actually got out and started looking around for a pay phone – her cell must have been dead – Sally knew she better keep an eye on her until help arrived. Unfortunately, the 48th Street Devils arrived first.

“I know you,” one of them, the one holding the knife, said. “Mustang Sally…what’choo want? Don’t mess wif Devil bidness.” The threat was punctuated by a movement of the blade in her general direction.

He wasn’t exactly a brilliant conversationalist, she noted. The woman on the ground behind them whimpered and Sally tightened up. Time to go to work.

“You’re lucky, boys. Tonight you get a choice. Option ‘A’, you let the woman go. Option ‘B’, I make you let the woman go. Now what’s it going to be?”

The man with the knife noted the nervous shuffle amongst his brethren, which his lifetime on the street told him usually meant uncertainty. But he had a good knife and another in his boot, and Dirty next to him had his nine tucked into the back of his pants, and there were seven of them, and she was a broad, however tough Jimme K’s cousin said she might be.

Sally watched them make up their minds, almost allowing herself to be hopeful. These gang types were universally too stupid or too proud to back down. There were seven of them and only one of her and who knew how many guns they might be carrying, but she’d been shot before with little more than an immediate pain and a lingering bruise. Not only that, but she hit like a Mack truck, and she could fight. Oh yeah, she could fight. The odds were fairly even. And you never knew.

She braced at the sound of footsteps behind her. The other seven Devils’ timing was impeccable, and now they had her surrounded. So much for her medical insurance premiums. Swell.

The man with the knife smiled broadly. “Now who got the choice, bitch? Option ‘A’, you get down here and suck it. Option ‘B’, you can suck it anyway! What’choo gonna do? Take all of us on?”

Dirty Fingers next to him giggled maniacally and finished the thought with a big smile of his own. “Alone?”

“Who said she’s alone, jackass?”

Sally’s head and everyone else’s jerked up towards the fire escape. A midnight blue and dark crimson figure leapt from the third floor landing, performing a perfect graceful somersault on the way down. Before he landed, something he’d tossed during his gyration exploded amongst the new group of Devils with a brilliant flash that brought an instant of full daylight to the alley. There were screams and loud complaints as the group behind Sally found themselves blinded.

By the time she turned back to face the dead end, the guy with the knife was on the ground not moving and Action Man had immobilized the arm of the guy next to him, a 9mm now visible in the hand at the end of the awkwardly angled arm. There was a snap and a scream from the goon before Action Man delivered a spin kick, sending him off to crumple whimpering against the building’s side.

He shot Sally a look over his shoulder while he turned to face the rest of them. He gestured with a sharp jerk of his cowled head to the group behind her who were only now beginning to recover their bearings.

“Well…What are you waiting for?”