The first part of her plan failed almost immediately.
Corpsemaker had spent the better part of ten minutes crouched atop a rooftop, studying the alley below and trying to decide how best to approach the situation. During that time, she had considered distractions, stealth, and even attempting to follow the ABB members to wherever the children were being held.
In the end, she abandoned most of the ideas she had been considering.
There were too many unknowns, too many variables she could not account for, and every minute she spent sitting on that rooftop was another minute the children remained in danger. So she settled on something considerably simpler.
She would make herself known and force the group to focus on her.
That lasted all of half a second, just as she landed atop a nearby dumpster, before several heads snapped toward her, the conversation dying instantly.
For perhaps half a second, nobody moved. Then one of the ABB members shouted something in Japanese. Whatever brief surprise her appearance had caused vanished instantly as hands disappeared beneath jackets and metal flashed.
Corpsemaker's instincts screamed.
She threw herself sideways just as the first gunshot cracked through the night, the sound deafening in the confined space of the alley.
Concrete burst apart where she had been standing.
A second shot followed, then a third, and suddenly muzzle flashes were blooming across the darkness.
She sprinted for the nearest cover.
A rusted delivery truck sat halfway down the alley, abandoned years ago and left to decay where it had been parked. She slipped behind it as another volley tore through the space she had occupied moments earlier.
One bullet punched through a door panel. Another struck the pavement close enough to send fragments skittering across her dress.
Her heart hammered against her ribs as she pressed herself against the truck.
Strength, speed, and confidence all seemed considerably less impressive when bullets were tearing chunks out of the objects around her.
The gunfire continued for several seconds before gradually becoming less frequent, the bursts of muzzle flash giving way to shouted curses as someone began barking orders.
Then came the sound she had been waiting for: the sharp clicks of magazines running dry.
Corpsemaker pushed off the ground and exploded from behind cover.
The nearest ABB member barely had time to look up before her fist crashed into his jaw, lifting him off his feet and sending him sprawling across the pavement. Another tried to bring his weapon to bear, but she caught his wrist before he could aim, twisted sharply, and sent the gun clattering from his grasp. Her elbow drove into his side a second later, the impact folding him over as a crack echoed through the alley.
The third man swung the stock of his rifle like a club.
Corpsemaker ducked beneath the blow and kicked his knee out from under him. As he stumbled, she drove a punch into his jaw hard enough to leave him unconscious before he even hit the ground.
Above the alley, the spirit orb drifted silently through the darkness, feeding her awareness from every direction. Attacks announced themselves before they arrived, movements appearing in her mind almost as quickly as they happened.
A man rushed her from behind with a knife. She stepped aside before he could reach her, caught his arm, and redirected his momentum into the nearest wall, sending him crashing face-first into the brick. Another ABB member fumbled with a fresh magazine, only for Corpsemaker to kick it from his hands before driving a second kick into his chest and dropping him onto the pavement.
Through it all, part of her attention remained fixed on Lung.
The ABB leader had yet to move.
He stood exactly where he had at the beginning of the fight, arms crossed in front of his chest as he watched his men get dismantled one after another. No orders left his mouth. No attempt was made to intervene. He simply observed in silence, as though the outcome had already been decided and he was merely waiting for the final result.
The realization unsettled her more than an immediate attack would have.
Less than a minute after the first shot had been fired, the alley fell quiet once again. Groans drifted up from the pavement, mingling with the distant sounds of traffic, while discarded weapons lay scattered across the ground where their owners had dropped them.
Corpsemaker drew a deeper breath and slowly let it out.
The fight itself had not been particularly difficult. What had exhausted her was the constant expectation that Lung would finally move, that at any moment he would decide he had seen enough and step into the fray.
Yet he never had.
Slowly, she turned toward him.
For several seconds, neither spoke. Then Lung broke the silence.
"Who are you?" The question was calm, almost conversational.
Corpsemaker straightened slightly. "Corpsemaker."
Even through the mask, her voice retained that strange quality it always seemed to possess now. Rich, smooth, and slightly hypnotic.
Lung openly studied her. "A new cape."
It wasn't a question.
His gaze drifted briefly toward the unconscious men littering the alley before returning to her.
"Who do you work for?"
For a brief moment, she considered claiming affiliation with the Protectorate or the PRT. It would complicate matters and might even make Lung hesitate, but the lie would not survive serious scrutiny. Someone would eventually discover the truth, and she had little interest in building her reputation on a foundation that fragile.
So she gave him an honest answer.
"No one."
Lung was silent for several moments.
His expression changed very little, yet something behind his eyes seemed to sharpen as he considered her answer. The pause stretched just long enough for her to wonder what conclusion he was reaching before he finally gave a small nod.
"Work for me."
The offer caught her so off guard that she almost laughed.
Almost.
"No."
Lung nodded again, looking less disappointed than mildly satisfied. "Expected."
The word settled between them as he uncrossed his arms.
Corpsemaker felt her stomach tighten, especially as scales began to emerge across his skin, rough and dark where they first appeared around his neck and jaw. More followed almost immediately, spreading across his arms, chest, and face with alarming speed as his body started to change. The air seemed warmer than it had moments before, and power radiated from him with a tangible weight that reminded her of standing too close to a furnace.
For the first time that night, fear pressed against the edges of her composure. And it had very little to do with his appearance.
Lung was dangerous, certainly, but Brockton Bay was full of dangerous people. What unsettled her was the sense of inevitability that surrounded him. This was the man who fought entire teams of heroes, who survived battles that should have killed him, and whose power only grew more terrifying the longer a confrontation lasted.
The realization threatened to root itself in her thoughts, but she forced herself to focus. Fear would not help her. Panic would not save the children Lung intended to kill.
Drawing a slow breath, she felt the spirit orb drift closer to her shoulder, its presence steadying.
Lung flexed his newly formed claws. "Then prepare to die."
Corpsemaker shook her head once, clearing away the last remnants of hesitation.
She had not come here expecting an easy victory, but neither had she come to die. She had come to stop a monster.
Whatever happened next, she intended to see that through.