Blue Moonshine - The Hunt

1939

"Boss, I told you. It's not that we can't do it for you. No one can do that. You're asking to find a..."

Tommy Nost, with two fingers pointed down on his desk, cocked his head at his henchman, "She's not a ghost."

His fingers rocked ever so slightly up and down the length of the desktop. His breath hitched for a split second. Something underneath thudded against the surface.

"No." He said it matter of factly, tensing his hand. In the dim light of the incandescent lamps around the office, one could faintly see a thin bolt of electricity pass between his index and middle fingers.

The henchman stared, then stared down, "Boss if you're..."

"No no, I'm good. This..." He gestured below his waist with the other hand, "is the last one we got. You wanna' look at this?"

The henchman looked aside, out the window, "Honestly, boss, I'd rather..."

Tommy tilted his head and smiled, grinned really, "You wanna see it right?" His eyes glinted under the electric light.

The henchman knew he had no option, "Fine." He stepped around the side of the table, "My..." He knew what Tricks Tommy had up his sleeve. "Finger Guns" he called it. The public had a lot of names. Scientists called it a "Second Galvani Effect."

Right now the results of the trick were nude underneath Nost's desk. Two fingers traced a near-invisible string of electricity from the hands of the mob boss right into the mind and body of the woman underneath him.

"Calling it a new trick here... she's not doin' this because I'm threatening her. Look at her." Her head bobbed down on Tommy's erect cock, slowly, almost gingerly. Her eyes rolled up, looking at nothing. Her entire body moved with a single rhythm, arms and legs on the ground arching her back and rolling her ass against the footrest beneath the desk. Each gliding motion painted a slick streak of lubricant straight from her cunt.

But that wasn't all. The henchman recognized the lips, the face, but not the eyes. This was...

"Yep. You're looking at the Howling Banshee herself. Thought this was fitting, don't you." Tommy snickered to himself, "Plug those up little bitch lips there." He grabbed her cheek with his right hand.

"Now. As I was saying," He lounged back, spreading his legs. With a flick of his fingers, she continued, pawing along the ground on all fours, eagerly choking down his cock, "You know what I'm after. Hungry gentleman like myself, I want a full meal. This bitch is an a-peri-tif," He enunciated each syllable, ran his hand through her shock white curls, "Maybe I'll get myself a whole buffet..." His tongue slid over his teeth, "but first, our pairing. Cocktails first. I want Blue Moonshine."

"Boss, what do you think we're gonna' do?" The henchman clenched his fists at his side.

"I'm sorry. Misheard your tone. I was expecting an eager 'sure thing chief. We'll get her for ya.' Now you're asking the questions that I'm expecting answers to. God!" He raised his left hand a little too high, "Shit she's using her tongue. I didn't even put that idea in there for her. Fuck me that's good shit." He stroked her hair, "Good little bitch. Fuck. You're here to stay."

He shook his head, "Fuck. You're a lucky son of a cunt that I've got her on me right now. If I wasn't balls-deep in heaven my right hand would be up your ass." He saw the henchman's eyes linger on the free hand, "Don't think about it. If I wanted to do that I'd be doing it. You're useful how you are. Just..." He lowered his hand, assisting the Banshee sucking him off, "Get her in a place where I have a clean shot. Tell me what you're doing first though. I'd love it if you bring her here in a bag, but if we've gotta make an ambush, make an ambush."

The Howling Banshee moaned, racking Tommy's whole body with pre-orgasmic spasms. He drove his own fingers into the side of his leg, "Notttttttt yettttt," hissed out of his lips through gritted teeth.

~~~

At the corner of 55th and Empire, yellow light drenched two well-dressed men. Blue Moonshine knew their type. They were here to find some poor young girl selling her body, and then when the time was right, stiff her or hurt her or worse, and run off without a single consequence.

Blue Moonshine watched them from a gargoyle three stories up. Bastards. Both of them. They'd come here before, three nights ago. Left the girl with a black eye, broke a bone or two in her face.

She could do so so so much to them to make them hurt for it.

The vigilante's credo in one word: hurt. Hurt them good, hurt them hard, and they wouldn't hurt no one never again.

Blue Moonshine scrambled into the half-abandoned accountant's office she'd been standing outside, then down the stairs onto the street. With each step, she readied herself. Trick up her sleeve, she was ready to do the justice she came to enact.

Two gentlemen, standing at the corner, now with a woman. Handsome little woman, with long black gloves and...

Blue Moonshine doubled back, hanging her gaze on the young lady's pale white curls. Not platinum blonde, no dyes, no bleach, just white. That... it had to be. It had to be Rosa. There wasn't another living soul in this city that looked like that.

Blue Moonshine had only seen the Howling Banshee a handful of times without her mask. But Rosa left an impression. A good friend, and one of the few other women vigilantes in town. Rosa had just been talking to her about a plan, a big-shot they were going to take down. But it was all abstract, still looking for clues, tying things together.

Now, here she was at this street corner. Not the Howling Banshee's style.

Blue couldn't put a finger on how, but she was damn sure something was off. Something in Rosa's eyes, her smile. It was too happy for the woman she'd worked with. And not in the plastered drunk way that Blue could make her. Not in the uncomfortable, acted way that Rosa could put on for interviews.

Rosa seemed genuinely happy. Her eyes wrinkled and she laughed with an authenticity that came from nowhere. Blue took a half step out of the office building, kept her profile obscured by a car. The trio across the street stepped into a limousine across the way.

The hell was going on.

Blue listened as they drove off, taking a left before slinking down 55th - it wouldn't be hard to follow them, but she'd have to move quickly. She dashed into an alleyway and bolted between trash cans and barrels to make pace. Her boots clicked against old cobblestone paths, the crescent moon just barely reflecting off of pooled water between the bricks.

An abandoned concert hall? The car pulled up to a stop just outside. Rosa got out first, followed by the other two. Not a concert hall. Blue knew better. This joint was a dance club, something like that. Maybe Rosa had an in. Maybe this was Rosa doing her own investigation?

Or, Blue considered, as she watched Rosa kiss one of her entourages on the cheek, maybe this was just her blowing off steam? Still, something seemed wrong. The unfettered joy mismatched the vengeful spirit Blue knew so well.

The three of them stepped into the building. A rumble of bass and stomping footsteps bellowed out into the street before they shut the door behind them. Rosa disappeared inside, and the limo hurried off towards the harbor.

Blue didn't hesitate a minute to climb up the nearest apartment. The arched roof of the former concert hall still wore the trappings of opulence. But it was tattered. Gilded moldings on the roof contrasted with cuts and holes that bled out the shining light of the dance hall.

And with light, came sound. She could hear dozens, maybe even a full hundred and change dancing inside. So many witnesses if something went wrong... But she had to go. She had to look. Had to follow on this. If something was up with her friend, she would never forgive herself for looking the other way out of cowardice.

Blue took fifteen steps back. The front façade of the concert hall had a row of offices that stacked up nice and high. Blue readied herself, dug her boots into the ground, and hauled ass across the roof, kicking off the side of the building and flying through the air onto the top of the hall. She'd done this a dozen times, but it never got less scary. She rolled across the rooftop.

A man's voice barked across, "Who's there!"

With her heartbeat racing a thousand times a second, Blue pulled herself behind one of the half-walls atop the building. She heard his footsteps thirty, maybe forty feet ahead. His flashlight penetrated the air above her, waved around side to side.

"I know I saw something, just come out or I start shooting." Blue smiled. Not if she could help it. While his flashlight pointed the other way, she slinked around the little skylight that she'd been propped up against, silently closing the ground between them.

She stood up, and said, "Hey handsome," before tapping his shoulder. Two and a half shots. No, she poked him one more time before he could turn. Four shots. Easy money. Poor guy turned on a dime and almost took himself out. He crumpled neatly to the ground.

"Someone's had a bit too much, hasn't he?" She stepped over him and kicked the firearm out of his hand, "Big boy can't handle his liquor?"

She kneeled down atop him and got in his face, "Who's joint is this?"

He giggled, burbled out, "F..." He laughed aloud, "Fingersss Gun."

Blue got up.

The dots connected themselves. Finger Gun was an odd one. No one really knew who he was or what his angle could be. All Blue knew was that he had a Trick. He could zap people, like lightning out of his fingertips. Man had killed someone back in the 10's, but new evidence came up and he was let out three years ago. Kept to himself.

But then people started getting suspicious. Bodies showing up with electric burns, and always involved bodies. Usually the Mafia. When it first started out Blue halfway thought it meant they had a new vigilante.

Then it turned out he had his own gang, but no one could tie it to him.

No one yet. And that's what the Howling Banshee was here to do. Another pin on the corkboard, another little string connecting Finger Gun to the syndicate. Blue smiled.

May as well offer a little hand?

"Aaand, you can go to sleep." She gave the guard a smooch on the forehead. The sweet smell of mash lingered on her lips. The sun would wake him up with the worst headache of his life.

His eyes slid shut on their own. Blue abandoned him on the roof, descending floor by floor into the dance hall. The sounds of feet stomping on tile, bass and brass thrumming, and a single singer giving her soul into the microphone, all brought life into the walls.

Blue almost found herself tapping with the rhythm.

She came out on the third floor landing. First floor with lights on. She poked her head out around each corner. Good. No one here. She tried to listen for footsteps, but couldn't make heads or tails. If she ran into someone, she looked nice enough, like she could be here.

A window looked over the dance floor. As expected, a small sea of humans sweated and syncopated as a band played on stage. There would have been chairs all along where the people gathered, but each row had been plucked and removed. Across the hall, though, Blue caught sight of what she was looking for.

A mezzanine, and above it, a lounge. A little window revealed a small gathering of elites. Rosa's pale white locks shined like a beacon. Blue receded into the shadows, and tried to chart a course there. She ran for the side of the building, hoping that there would be some way around, but of course, her options were few.

Either scale the outside and hope that the rotted old stone could hold her, or brave the dance floor and hope that no one recognized her. Of course, there was a third option. There were enough women down there, surely one of them would head to the restroom, and surely she could just...

No. Even if she thought it was necessary, she'd need to find a better place to leave the shitfaced woman than...

Blue shrugged as another option crossed her mind. She didn't have to leave the woman shitfaced. Just silly enough to take her clothes off. And silly enough to accept a strangers' garments. The blue stockings and gloves could stay on.

Staying in the shadows, she moved silently downstairs. The dance floor still rocked the whole building with a steady heartbeat. Each step she took, she looked for more guards, but found none. A handful waited by the front door, but none of them spotted her. The first gal who came into the bathroom looked just about her size.

"Hey sweetheart," Blue reached for the woman's hand. A gentle squeeze. Just enough to get her... The woman stumbled backwards. Shit. Right dose, wrong chemical? Something off, the woman didn't smell drunk?

Blue checked the woman's pulse. Strong, good. No trouble there.

"You're preeeeettty..." The woman reached a hand out and petted Blue's hair, "Pretttttty blue eyes."

Blue sighed, "Alright dear, let's get you cleaned up. Can you take that dress off for me?" She leaned the woman against a bench and locked the bathroom door.

Without hesitation, the woman pulled everything off. Blue did the same, carefully checking to make sure they were the same size. Not everything was an exact match, but it would look fine. Close enough anyways.

The woman hiccupped, "More please..." She reached out for Blue's hand.

"No you've got to get dressed first." Blue slid on the woman's shoes. Those did fit perfectly. Damn lucky that they did.

"Moooore, c'mon. Just a little zap." The woman slumped onto her right side.

That last word alarmed Blue. "Little zap?"

"Zip zap!" the woman pointed a finger gun at her own chest.

Blue's eyes went wide. So that's part of it. Finger Gun zapping people like this, giving them a high? A low? Euphoria? Something like her trick, just with electricity instead of chemicals.

A very good heads-up.

Blue unlocked the door, but didn't open it, waited for the other woman to at least get a bra on. "Ok. I'm gonna leave you here, but you need to behave yourself. Can you do that for me?"

She nodded, and that was good enough. Blue navigated the periphery of the dance floor, meandering closer and closer to the back of the stage. None of the guards noticed her, let alone tried to stop her. A perfect disguise. They weren't expecting some random airhead to do a damn thing, they never did.

Behind the stage, Blue found a little staircase that ascended right into the back of that lounge. A secret door, perhaps? Perfect to be a little voyeur on their conversation. Still quiet as a barn mouse, Blue made her way up, pressed her ear against the third floor door. Dead silent. The handle was loose, she could just open it.

Blue poked her head in. No one home. The velvet couches still had handprints. The cigar smoke still lingered. And the cocktail glasses still had trace drops of liquor at the bottom. She walked inside, looked around for somewhere to hide.

Before she could find so much as a nook, a familiar voice, hung low in a sultry tone, said, "We've been waiting on you Betty." Lightning cracked the space between her skull and her brain. The world went black.