SHADOW INTRUDER

Written by Neon Majestic

(DISCLAIMER: Streets of Rage is the property of Sega. The character of Rudra belongs to Bombergames, which created the fan-made Streets of Rage Remake.)

11:30 p.m., and the crescent moon was shining far above, giving what little light it could. Beneath the moon, the two-floored house was mostly dark, except for two lights that were on in two adjoining rooms positioned away from the road. Several high hedges surrounded the yard, overshadowing the sides and back of the building. There were three trees growing in the yard, one of these growing near to one of the side hedges and overlooking a darkened section of the house. On one side of the lot, the neighbouring house was five feet away from the hedge; and on the other side, the closest occupied yard was two lots away.

All this suited the dark-clad prowler just fine. All of this would greatly aid in the mission's achievement.

Perched in one of the highest branches of the tree closest to the targeted house, the mercenary half-closed her eyes and listened keenly, her head tilted toward the two upstairs windows where the only lights were on inside. The sound of running water greeted her ears. True to her recall from staking out the house earlier that day, the room from which that noise was coming was the bathroom. The target was showering.

That, too, suited her fine. What better time to catch her target in a vulnerable position than when the person was in a state of undress? Most individuals were normally conscious about modesty and would therefore be ill-prepared to protect themselves against an attack while they were in such a state. From her own research, too, she knew that many an assassination target in the past century had been silenced while in the shower, on the toilet, or just emerging from either.

Of course, the occupant of this particular dwelling was no ordinary person, she knew that. But it would still be interesting to see what the person's response would be to being caught while just appearing from what should have been, presumably, a relaxing shower.

She checked her inventory. Throwing knives…check. Melee-combat daggers…check. Gloves properly fitted…check. Combat boots securely laced and not fitting loosely…check. Satisfied, she braced herself and jumped from the tree branch to the rooftop, cautious about landing on the balls of her feet lest she should make a sound on the roofing tiles. She managed not to smirk at her own accomplishment as she landed like a cat. It always paid to have a secure pair of rubber-heeled boots designed to prevent sliding on any surface, after all.

Any unauthorized entry into a house could be made difficult if the homeowner was savvy enough to ensure that all potential points of entry were properly locked, including a bolt if need be. Still, the woman wasn't concerned about that—she was particularly skilled at entering even the most securely-guarded locations to fulfil her objective. Nothing would ever stand in her way, as her past track record would show.

Tonight would be no different.

Blaze Fielding stepped out of the bathroom, a large towel wrapped around her body and a smaller towel resting on top of her head. She briskly rubbed her hair with the small towel, then turned and tossed it to one side in the bathroom's laundry basket. Switching off the bathroom light, she crossed into her bedroom and came over to the large bureau-mirror. Sitting down in front of the bureau, she pulled out a drawer and took a comb from its depths; briefly teasing her hair with the fingers of one hand, she picked up the comb and proceeded to work on her brown locks with it.

For her, this was one of the few moments when she could just relax. Over the past few years, her life had consisted mainly of fighting with the Syndicate thugs that plagued the city like a cancer, and the criminal elements never gave her or the city a good enough chance to recuperate. From common street punks to organized crime under-bosses to skilled assassins, the Syndicate kept spewing out its filth upon the city's residents, all by the say-so of the organization's mysterious leader, Mr. X. Adding to these woes was the deliberate ineptness of the police force, of which many officers were on Mr. X's payroll. Those who hadn't been bought out were too intimidated to speak up or fight back, and for good reason—the handful who'd refused to be bribed or frightened into silence wound up in far-too-convenient "accidents" or were outright targeted for murder.

It was the corruption and fear-induced silence that had originally prompted Blaze, one of the few who refused to back down, to quit the force. She'd been born and grown in this city, and had known it during its earlier times of peace and safety. Back when she was growing up, the crime wasn't much more than what you'd expect in any given metropolis. And then Mr. X and his Syndicate had to come in and screw everything up, to the point that you couldn't hope to walk five blocks down a city street without having to pay "tolls" to leering crooks armed with knives, bottles or guns to mess you up if you didn't comply. The police's refusal to get involved and get to the heart of the matter led to Blaze turning in her gun and badge in disgust.

Fortunately, she hadn't been alone in her stand. Two other of her fellow rookie cops, Adam Hunter and Axel Stone, were of the same mindset as she; they, too, had grown up in this city and weren't about to roll over for a pack of dogs like the Syndicate. And all of them had made a bold move: what they couldn't accomplish with their badges, now useless to them, they could at least try to accomplish head-on with their fists. And as time went on, they were given further help by Adam's brother Eddie, Axel's friend Max Thunder, and the mysterious former Syndicate associate Dr. Gilbert Zan to squelch the crime empire's ranks.

That was not to say that the going was easy from the outset, or even now that Mr. X was dead. The group might have felled him, Blaze realized, but his influence continued to live. Her contacts in her current private investigator job continued to update her on the activities of fledgling Syndicate members, and she and her allies continued to do what they could on an unofficial level. 'Unofficial' because acting outside of the law, even to destroy a group like this crime group, was itself against the law, although Blaze liked to think that her job as a PI gave her and her friends some leeway. It helped, too, that more and more official opposition to the Syndicate was coming out of the woodwork. Better late than never, perhaps.

Now finished combing her hair, Blaze checked herself in the mirror and was satisfied with how she looked. Glancing down, she dropped the comb back into the drawer and pushed the drawer shut, then looked up again to appraise her reflection some more—

—and the view she got made her freeze. Directly behind her was a woman clad in black, holding a knife mere millimetres away from Blaze's neck. "One wrong move, one loud sound, and this whole room gets sprayed red," the unwelcome visitor said quietly, but with dark warning in her voice. She then reached forward with her free hand and gripped Blaze by the hair. "Stand up."

Blaze fought the impulse to strike behind her with her elbow. After all, this woman had managed to somehow sneak into the house and had gotten into her bedroom in probably split seconds when previously she hadn't been there—or had she been hiding in the room all along after gaining access, merely waiting for the time to strike? As it was, Blaze remembered the familiar adage about drawing one's hand out of the lion's mouth with care—she had to wait for the slightest chance when the knife would be taken away from anywhere close to her neck before she could even think to fight back. The intruder was in an ample position to slit her throat if provoked into doing so—and last she checked, Blaze happened to like having her throat intact.

Cautiously, she eased herself into a standing position. As soon as she did that, her assailant—never once relinquishing that grip on her hair nor moving the knife away from her neck—pulled her away from the bureau and toward the wall. "Back to the wall. Now." She pulled Blaze's head backward to show her emphasis.

Flinching at the tugging of her hair, Blaze obeyed. Gingerly, she turned herself so she was facing the other woman. Without a beat being missed, the knife was pressed to her throat; it took every ounce of willpower for Blaze to not shudder as she felt the cold, edged steel pressing on her neck, not breaking the skin, but likely to do so if the wielder got a mind to do so. "Again, no funny moves, and no noise," the stranger cautioned.

The two pairs of eyes bore into each other for several seconds. Then Blaze mustered enough nerve to speak. "A Syndicate assassin, I take it? Took you guys long enough to think this far."

She studied the intruder. The other woman, appearing somewhat older than Blaze, had a face that was clearly Asian in origin, and dark hair tied back in a ponytail that went halfway down the length of her back. She was clad in a tight-fitting sleeveless black vest that left the midsection exposed, an accompanying short skirt with what seemed to be a longer skirt extension around the hips at the back, and black knee-high boots. On her hands were fingerless gloves; in one of those gloved hands was the knife that Blaze now felt at her throat. And on the woman's face at the moment was the emergence of a small smirk. Memory clicked as Blaze remembered her own debriefings of Syndicate enforcers, information she had gotten from Dr. Zan quite some time ago. This person before her was Rudra, a mercenary rumoured to have never failed a contract. And she was in the Syndicate's employ. That only made matters worse than they already were.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, Ms. Fielding," said Rudra. "To be caught in such an exposed state, with your guard down…I'd think you'd be a little more savvy about self-preservation, given the nature of what you do."

Blaze couldn't argue with that. "Okay, so I've messed up that way," she conceded. "My friends will make it up for me once they get wind of what you've done."

Rudra shook her head. "I wonder about that…"

Silence fell in the room again, broken only by the sounds of their breathing as they continued to look at each other. The knife at Blaze's throat never once left its location. For her part, she could feel her heart hammering in its dark crevice, but she refused to let any semblance of fear come on her face. Such a thing might give this woman extra enjoyment, in addition to Blaze's murder. She couldn't quite recall how many of the Syndicate's members, male and female, low-tier and high-ranking, had sworn to dip their hands in her blood and enjoy every second of it for her part in beating their heads in and smashing their operations. But if Blaze was going to die at this point, in her own house, in her own bedroom, at a Syndicate killer's knife-point, she might as well keep a dignified look on her face and not allow her killer the satisfaction of seeing terror in her expression.

Then, quite gradually, the grip of the woman's other hand on Blaze's hair relaxed and then subsided. The grip on the knife and its level of pressure on her throat, however, did not. "No resistance, or you bite it here," Rudra warned coolly.

Puzzlement arose in Blaze's eyes as she felt the grasp on her hair loosen—but as she glanced at Rudra's now-free hand and saw where it was going, her eyes widened. "What—"

The sudden increase in the pressure of the knife's edge on her neck stilled her voice. "No. Resistance." Rudra's tone warned Blaze that she meant it, and the brown-haired woman held her peace.

Rudra's hand now continued to where it was going—the knot at the top of Blaze's towel that held it in place on her body. The hand's fingers worked deftly…loosening the knot…and in a moment the towel fell to the floor. Rudra eased her upper body back a little, though her knife-hand's pressure didn't slacken in the slightest, and examined what was before her. "Hmm…"

Blaze's copper-coloured body, formerly concealed by the towel, now stood totally bare for the assassin to witness. Her breasts, C-cup size, appeared like basketballs standing out on her chest. Her stomach was impressively flat and well-toned, as befitted someone of Blaze's height and weight range who worked out regularly. Her arms and legs were lean but still quite muscular, appropriate for a woman who spent her time fighting punks in the city's back-alleys. Rudra's eyes went up and down the younger woman's frame, glancing over the well-trimmed patch of pubic hair that stopped just at the place where her thighs met her torso. And Rudra's eyes didn't miss even the seemingly unrelated detail that the carefully-trimmed nails on Blaze's well-structured fingers and toes had been painted a deep reddish color.

Rudra nodded slightly as she took in all this detail. "Nice…very nice," she said, her voice down to a whisper. "You truly are beautiful, Ms. Fielding. It's easy to see why as many men lust after you as they want to kill you."

Throughout Rudra's examination of her bodily personal space, Blaze's cheeks had briefly flushed pink. She wasn't completely shy about her body, and in fact she was well aware that her looks could turn quite a few heads, male or female. What she did mind, however, was the fact that somebody could be appreciating her most intimate parts this close up, without her invitation or permission, and with a blade at her throat to boot. "I guess you must be enjoying this," she replied, her voice also a whisper, but with the sarcasm dripping thickly. "What's next—you plan on raping me before you kill me?"

"Don't flatter yourself. I don't swing that way." Rudra's eyes bore into hers again. "However…you have just given me inspiration."

Hearing that, Blaze mentally wished she hadn't mouthed off to the mercenary.

Reaching behind her and into her belt with her free hand, Rudra pulled out a small, short-bladed dagger between her fingers. Placing the point of the weapon right on Blaze's collarbone, she slowly drew it down along the skin. Blaze sucked in a little air between her teeth as she felt the new knife's point crawling along her skin, but was grateful the skin wasn't broken—yet. Rudra was noted as a woman who never screwed up on the small details in her line of assassin's work, after all. Swallowing, mindful of the knife still at her neck, she cast her eyes at Rudra. "What are you doing?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Aside from the obvious?" Rudra chuckled a little, then became more serious again. "I'm showing you…just how vulnerable you really are. You may fancy yourself a strong fighter, but you're no Superwoman. If I wanted to, I could have easily waited for you to fall asleep before slitting your throat right in your bed. And if you weren't as resilient as you say you are, then how well would you manage if it was someone else…doing something far worse…than what I'm doing now, eh?"

The small dagger's point was now tracing along Blaze's right breast; Blaze, acutely aware of this point, breathed deeply, knowing full well that one wrong move would result in, best-case scenario, that breast getting unnecessarily wounded. Still, she couldn't help but gasp softly as Rudra deftly flicked the very tip of the dagger against her nipple. Her breathing became slightly shallower as the affected nipple began to swell slightly—and not because of any visible injury done to it.

"Let me outline why I haven't simply killed you," Rudra's voice broke into Blaze's mind. The assassin then shifted the dagger's point to Blaze's other breast and traced the tip along the mound, ever so lightly touching the knife's tip on the nipple. Blaze tried not to suck in air involuntarily—and failed—as the friction on her now-affected nipple took place and as that bud began to grow alongside its twin. "I've been studying you for quite a while since the Syndicate gained my services. Of course, I've studied your friends as well, and I know all there is to know about them, their strengths, their weaknesses, their habits—but you are, for me, a special little project."

"Project?" Blaze wondered, all but forgetting the knife at her neck and the dagger-tip now tracing its way along her midsection toward her stomach.

"Yes." Rudra leaned her face a little toward Blaze, so now their noses were just about two inches apart. "I respect your determination as a detective, your strength as a fighter, and your resourcefulness as a law enforcer. And you have your comrades to back you up when you need it. You're not afraid to ask for help when you need it…but you also have enough sense to know how to act or how not to act depending on the situation. Yet…"

The tip of the dagger was now tracing dangerously close to Blaze's pubic hairs; if she shifted once, she thought to herself, Rudra might send the knife down further out of sadism. "Yet, in an unguarded moment, you fall just like any other mortal being," Rudra added. "Like right now. I hold your life, your body—literally—in my hands. Were I to will it, I could end your existence with one movement of my wrists…or…" She leaned forward a little further, so now her lips were close to Blaze's ear. "If I wanted to, I could violate your womanhood in every way I could think of. I'm knowledgeable in torture methods—I could do all manner of degrading, humiliating things to you just short of actually mutilating you, and you'd be scarred with the memory for the rest of your life."

"Then why haven't you?" Blaze dared to ask.

"Indeed…why haven't I?" Rudra eased her head back; again her eyes were looking intensely into Blaze's. "Turn around, hands on the wall, and spread your legs. You're a former cop; you know the procedure."

Slipping the dagger back into her belt, she reached up with her now-free hand and again grasped Blaze by the hair, turning the brunette's head toward the wall while still holding the knife at Blaze's throat with her other hand. Realizing she was still in no feasible position to fight back without risking a slashing from the knife, Blaze quietly complied, pressing her hands to the wall while easing her lower body toward Rudra and spreading her thighs.

"Ironic, isn't it? A cop getting a pat-down from a perp…the other way around is how you're used to it, isn't it?" Rudra barely managed to suppress a chuckle, even as she now took in Blaze's toned back muscles, her tight-looking buttocks, and her sturdy calves. "How do you feel, Ms. Fielding? Humiliated? Weak? Exposed?"

"You tell me," answered Blaze, a hint of defiance still in her voice.

Again releasing Blaze's hair, the older woman pulled the dagger back out of her belt and began to trace its tip from the detective's shoulder, going down her back. The knife-tip was traced down to Blaze's waist, never once leaving a mark, yet Blaze still flinched at the feeling of the sharp steel point on her body, as well as having the constant reminder of the knife still being held to her neck.

"I'm not here on Syndicate orders," Rudra spoke again. "I came of my own volition. I wanted to see the kind of woman you are when you drop your tough exterior, when you're in a vulnerable position. I wanted to see how much you could compare to me, by observing you up close. And I also came to warn you…that at no time, like now, should you give anybody the slightest opportunity to get the drop on you. What if it was a man who came in on you—a man with, shall I say, less than honourable intentions?"

"And holding me at knife-point while I'm nude in my own room, and taking advantage of me in such a state, counts as honourable?" Blaze demanded.

Again Rudra leaned forward; this time, as her mouth came close to Blaze's ear, her own upper body pressed against the younger woman's back, forcing her up some more against the wall. "Psychological warfare. Surely you've heard of it." She smiled. "I predict that from now on, you'll be a LOT more careful about your surroundings, and about how complacent you let yourself become within these private walls of yours. You'll never forget how, for these past few minutes, you were at your most exposed. How, with but one thought and one movement," and she pressed the knife against Blaze's neck to emphasize her point, "your loved ones could be singing sad choruses in front of your coffin. And how, if it was anyone else but me, you'd likely have a lot worse than your dignity bruised."

She traced the tip of the dagger down further still, against Blaze's buttocks, first one and then the other; she could hear Blaze's effort at controlled breathing. Down further the knife-tip went, right on the inside of Blaze's thighs; Rudra saw and felt Blaze shudder at that. "And with that…this'll have the run-off effect of making you much more focused, both as a fighter and as a woman," said Rudra. "And that is the Blaze Fielding I want to face one-on-one—the woman I want to acknowledge as a worthy rival, who I know will be made better for this little experience."

And then…ever so slowly, the knife's pressure on Blaze's throat relaxed and then was removed, though the blade now shifted to her shoulder and then to her back. Rudra, meantime, replaced the small dagger in her belt once more—then suddenly she delivered a hard slap to Blaze's bare butt with her now-free palm. "AH!" Blaze cried, jumping a little at the unexpected and not-at-all-painless contact.

"Hmm. Nice and firm. Not bad." Rudra chuckled. "Now THAT was for my own amusement. But…" Again her smirk vanished. "Remember this night, Ms. Fielding. Take it as a lesson learned. And by the way, something tells me you'll be keeping it really, really close to your chest—who knows whether your friends don't have some rather, ahem, dirty minds, hmm? Especially the blond guy…quite cute he is, too, I'll admit. Easy to see why you and he could get along as well as you do."

Blaze blushed. "You done 'educating' me now?"

"Whether I am or not is up to you. If you take the message to heart, well…if not, then…" Rudra now sheathed her knife. "Become stronger, Ms. Fielding. I look forward to testing you soon."

Silence followed the statement. Blaze spun around—and saw nobody. She's gone…

The stillness of the night greeted Blaze's ears. Cautiously, bending down, she retrieved the fallen towel and draped it around her again…and only then did she notice something else, something that wasn't there before. A folded piece of paper lay on the floor, presumably where Rudra had last stood. Picking it up, she opened it and studied it carefully.

The next two hours were spend double-checking every door and window in the house, examining her own body to make sure no knife-marks were present, applying a cold wet towel to the still-stinging slapped butt-cheek, and examining the mystery paper.

Three days later…

"The authorities have dismantled another criminal stronghold in the city, the fifth one in the past three days," the news announcer spoke up on the television, as video footage of assorted gang members in handcuffs and a wide range of evidence was shown. "Several members of the notorious 'Tiger Dragon' gang were rounded up in a joint police-military operation, and fourteen illegal guns and over 2000 assorted rounds of ammunition were seized. 3000 pounds of compressed marijuana and 75 pounds of packaged cocaine were also seized in the raid. City officials are praising the efforts of Blaze Fielding, the leader of the anti-gang task force specially outfitted by City Hall officials, and her team for this latest success. The operation began early Tuesday afternoon and, since that time, several members and leaders of four other gangs—the Street Light Posse, the Winter Bikers, the Carnival Crew, and the Jungle Reaper Gang—have been arrested and are expected to face the courts in the coming months on various charges."

Then Blaze Fielding's face came on the screen, her expression one of steely determination. "Acting on intelligence received, our task force put together selected members of the local police and the military, with assistance from our old ally General Patrov and from our police chief, and we made a major and unrelenting strike against these gangs. And this is only the beginning—we will not rest, or will we back down or drop our guard, until every major criminal element is taken out for good. We will not be deterred by any threats that may be made; in fact, those threats will only serve to fuel our resolve. This city belongs to the people, and for too long the criminal elements have had unauthorized control over it…now, we're simply taking it back and putting it back where it belongs. And to all criminals who may be watching now, if you want to run, now's your chance—because once we come for you, you won't escape."

The TV was switched off, and as her little sister slept on the bed beside her, Rudra smiled approvingly.

NEON MAJESTIC: And thus ends this little one-shot that I came up with just this morning and decided to write. I tried to make it as non-porn as I possibly could, with no hint of sexual innuendo during the confrontation between Blaze and Rudra…and I hope it went as I intended, and also that Rudra's message got across for the readers as much as for Blaze.

Now, for those who haven't played the fan-made Streets of Rage Remake, there are bound to be a spoiler or two for the game in this story…but hey, what can I say? I've played the remake, and I like Rudra. I think she's a pretty cool and complex character. Feel free to agree or not.

Will I write any more Streets of Rage fanfiction in the near future? Well, who knows…