Chapter 1
Sometimes, the city could be beautiful. Tonight, it was grimy, filthy, dark and treacherous. The roof Noir was perched on felt slimy, as if he would slip off of it if he wasn't holding on tight. Noir wasn't holding onto anything.
The near-constant rain could be a beautiful drizzle, making dames hide under umbrellas held by their man, giggling and clutching at arms. Right now it was pouring, falling too fast to be soaked into the ground, instead running off down the road, flooding the sidewalks. Noir watched in mild interest as the water level rose towards the door of a pub. That one always flooded when it rained like this. The owner never did seem to have enough money to pay off his debts, though.
The people walking around outside, running from overhang to overhang, never seemed to notice the shadowed figure above them. Of course, no one in their right mind would look upwards when it's raining. Still, Noir could catch glimpses of their faces from his perch. White highlights illuminated their gray faces, giving definition and character to their faces. Smiling dames had lots of white on their faces around their cheeks. Scowling men had dark spots around the same areas.
Unfortunately, that white was not the kind Noir was currently looking for. Which was why he was currently on top of this grimy building, overlooking the city whose filth couldn't be washed away, no matter the amount of rain that poured down.
Noir used to hate this city. Now, he doesn't hate anything.
Sometimes, when Noir thinks about that, how he doesn't hate anything, he is filled with a sort of dread that closes around his throat and chest, compressing his very being. He thinks it is fear, but he can't be sure. He tries not to think about it anymore, though.
Noir spots his target, and pulls himself out of his thoughts. It is almost time to act, but he wants to wait just a few more moments. He wants to make sure he feels what happens next.
He wants to feel so badly that it almost hurts. Almost.
Noir swings from building to building, following behind the man in the gray trenchcoat with the white umbrella and the black insignia inked along the top of it.
Really, it would be harder to catch them if they didn't advertise who they were. There was almost no challenge to the hunt. Only the catch was of any real importance. And the sooner he caught them, the sooner he could be off doing what he really wanted to.
The man entered a building, and Noir slipped through a broken panel on the roof. So this was where the meeting was taking place. He considered burning it to the ground, just for something to do, but decided against it. He wanted to save the pyromatics for when he found the main base. Maybe then he would feel a sense of satisfaction.
They were speaking German. Noir didn't know it, but it didn't take an expert to understand the word "Hitler". Even so, the half-built bombs resting on tables beneath him did seem to give their core manifesto away.
The main speaker was still speaking German, a Nazi flag unfurled behind him. He appeared to be gesticulating something passionately, and the dozen or so other Nazi members were beginning to move towards the tables, most likely to resume their mechanical tasks.
Well, Noir reflected as he adjusted his gloves, maybe one of the bombs would be active. That could cause some excitement. A shot of adrenaline, maybe.
Noir dropped to the ground in front of the main speaker, spinning sharply and punching him square in the face. The man dropped like a sack of potatoes.
Hmm, nothing yet.
Noir whirled to face the rest, his coat fluttering behind him. A few, three to be exact, dropped their tools and ran for the doors. A few shots of webbing pinned them down. Two surrendered immediately, dropping to their knees and putting their hands up. Noir webbed them down anyways, to keep them from escaping.
Six down, seven to go. Yawn.
The remaining Nazis rushed him, swinging their tools at him. Noir rolled out of the way, webbing one down with each hand as he did so.
Five left.
One of them lunged at him, pale gray face twisted into a hate-filled mask. Noir was happy to punch him in the face, then web him down too. Well, happy isn't the right word. He experienced a brief moment of satisfaction, perhaps.
That was promising.
Four left.
These ones had the sense to attack in a group, forcing Noir to web off the ground and swing back down behind them, taking out another two from the back. It was a weak move, he knew, but this was taking too long and he wanted to finish this in time to inspect the bombs before he was expected back.
The last two looked at each other, then dropped their tools and put their hands up. Noir shrugged, then punched them each in the face.
How anticlimactic.
Well, that was simple. Noir walked over to the tables, one of which had been capsized during the fight, knocking the materials all to the ground. Noir bent down to pick up a piece of twisted metal, noting the wires contraptions attached to it.
Suddenly, Noir's "spidey sense" sent a jolt of electricity down his spine. He rolled to the side just as a wrench slammed into where he had been crouching.
It was the leader. Of course, he had forgotten to web him. This would be inconvenient, to say the least. Noir shot a web towards the man, but he ducked, and it flew past him.
Noir was backing up, but soon he had run out of back to move. He pressed against the wall, then pulled to the side as the wrench imbedded itself in the wall where his head had been mere moments before.
Noir was running out of options, literally. His web fluid was running low, this Nazi seemed to suddenly have incredible dexterity and strength, and he wasn't sure how to win in this situation.
Oh. So this was fear. Noir cast his eyes upwards. Of course. If he could get up high, he could regain an advantage to take down wrench-Nazi. Down here, in hand-to-hand, Noir was barely keeping it even. Noir launched a web to a rafter, swinging up towards it. He heard a shout, and a whistling sound.
Blinding pain. His vision turned white, an he only recalled falling when he hit the ground. His head bounced off the concrete floor, filling the white pain void with splotches of gray. Noir vaguely knew he had to get out of there, but his hand wouldn't close around the web shooters. His entire right arm, actually, was numb. Well, numb except that it hurt, anyway.
The wrench-Nazi, now lacking in said wrench, pulled Noir's face up sharply, grinning. Noir's eyes couldn't focus on his face, and kept fuzzing in and out of the white void. The Nazi was saying something, but Noir couldn't really hear anything. It was all fuzzy and he couldn't concentrate, but everything hurt. The Nazi let go of him, and his head fell back down limply.
The Nazi laughed, then raised his boot, aiming it directly towards his chest, which was already heaving from the sudden new struggle to take in oxygen.
Noir wondered if he would feel anything else before he died.
Then the boot landed hard right on where his ribs met his sternum, and Noir had his answer.