Spectre: Shades of Grey Chapter 12 A Comics Retcon Story by Maggie Finson

Samira was afraid, or more afraid than usual since she had become what she was.

She had been sold, the man who was her keeper, who she was allowed to call only Master though he had been a compatriot in other times, had taken a great deal of delight in telling her just how many millions someone had spent to have her.

She had waited to be taken out of her cell, which now felt almost like home, but it hadn't happened yet. Which was puzzling. She had seen what happened when other girls had been bought. They disappeared very quickly, but she was still waiting for the the inevitable opening of the door to her prison that would lead her to another, wider perhaps, but just as restrictive prison.

Not that it really mattered. If her first buyer failed to live up to the deal, then she would be sold to the second highest bidder. Or put up for auction again. She knew all too well how this worked.

But the delay did raise a spark, albeit a small one, of hope. Could it be that promises made were being kept? Was it possible that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that she wouldn't end up as some helpless, hopeless slave?

“Samira.” A soft, but chillingly familiar voice interrupted her thoughts and she gasped then whirled around to face the author of her present difficulties, and the only chance she had for any kind of release from the nightmare her life had become.

“Spectre.” She whispered half in fear, half in hope.

“My name,” The terrible figure in front of her gently answered, “is Diana. You at least deserve to know that after what I've caused you to go through.”

“You made me hope.” She answered just as quietly. “Have you come to pull that out from under me now, too?”

“No.” The frightening, but oddly comforting figure answered. “I've come to get you out of here.”

“But that would warn them.” Samira shook her head. “They would know that someone outside knows about them and what they are doing here.”

“It doesn't matter.” Spectre — Diana, shook her head. “In a few minutes bloody retribution is going to visit this place, and it will never hurt anyone again, I promise you.”

“You mean it's going to end?”

“Oh yes.” Spectre nodded grimly. “Within a few minutes. Now come on, let me get you out of here.”

“No.” Samira shook her head. “I want to stay, to get some of my own back here.”

“Dear Samira.” Spectre cupped her cheeks in both hands and shook her head. “Trust me, you don't want to know how it is to actually kill someone in cold blood. Not even for rightful vengeance.”

The sounds of her door being unlocked caused The Spectre to stop and give her an almost sad look. “Well, here's your chance.”

Samira accepted the pistol Diana gave her, feeling it's alien contours and knowing that it held violent death. And it was in her hand, ready to strike like a viper if only she loosed it.

“Plans have changed, bitch.” Her keeper announced then stopped in shock when he saw the weapon in her hand. “Where did you get that?”

“That isn't important.” She grated out. “I have it, and it's pointed at you right now.”

“You won't be able to use it you helpless bitch.” He answered while showing her the control remote in his hand. I won't let you.”

And the pain hit her like a sledgehammer. The white hot agony that ran down every nerve she had was all too familiar, and she fought it, really fought it.

But that wasn't enough to overcome the blinding, crippling fire in her nerves and brain.

But a spasm of her hand pulled the trigger, the gun went off, and miraculously, the pain went away.

Shaking with nausea, weak and fighting to hold on to consciousness, she saw that the inadvertant shot had smashed the remote, and the hand that held it. Her tormentor was on the floor shock on his face along with a pain that seemed very satisfying to her.

“No more.” She snarled while forcing her shaking hands to aim the weapon at his face. “You've tortured your last victim, Roger. I did what you have, I know what that's like. But you haven't got the faintest idea of what it's like on the other side of things. Now I think it's time for you to die. Because I wouldn't put you through what I had to go through here. Believe it or not, this is a mercy.”

She glared at him, pointed the weapon at his face, and steeled herself to do the deed.

“I can't do it.” She cursed softly and moaned. “I can't just kill even you in cold blood. Not even with what you've done to me.”

“I knew you wouldn't be able to do it.” He sneered. “You always were soft. You deserve to be what you are now. And you're going to pay for what happened just now. It's going to hurt, a lot, and it won't be the stuff that doesn't show. I'm going to make you scream, beg, for me to stop, and I'm going to enjoy it.”

“No you aren't, you son of a bitch.” She answered then kicked him in the teeth. Then in the ribs, the stomach, and his crotch. “You aren't ever going to hurt me, or anyone else again.

“But I can't kill you like this.” Samira shrugged and held out the nine milimeter pistol for both her and his examination. “I could, and wouldn't really worry too much about doing that, you know?

“But then,” she shook her head. “I wouldn't be any better than you are.”

She kicked him one more time to make sure he was unconcious, then handed me the weapon without a thought or regret for lost opportunities. “I'm done.”

“I see that.” I answered softly. “Are you sure?”

“Killing him in cold blood would serve no purpose.” Samira gave me a tired smile. “I hurt him, and that's enough. Will he stay out for long enough for what's going to happen? Wouldn't want him raising an alarm too soon, after all.”

“He won't.” I assured her, making sure he wouldn't — by checking him, not killing him — which was odd for me but it felt right at the time. “And don't worry about alarms. A friend of mine is in control of all their systems by now. No alarms, no automatic defenses, no whatever.”

“Okay.” She nodded then looked around the room. “What about the other girls in here?”

“No one is going to harm them any more, Samira, I promise.” I gave her an encouraging smile and held out my hand. “It's time to go now. Come on.”

So much she had suffered. Because of me. I had watched her almost kill the man, then realize she couldn't do it even with all the pent up rage, pain, and other things she felt.

And you know something? I was proud of her for that. Really proud of her.

“Mitsuko, we need to go.” I told the startled young woman at my next stop.

“So,” She looked at me, then at Samira, and nodded. “It is time to end this, no?”

“Yes.” I nodded. “I'll take you and Samira to a safe place, then I'll need to get back to the things where poeple are running, screaming, shooting, all that. But it ends now, like I said it would.”

“I would be there.” Mitsuko told me, then touched her swollen belly. “But have reason not to do that. Husband?”

“He'd kill you in minute if he thought he was in danger.” I pointed out.

“Not what I meant.” Mitsuko shot back. “Will husband pay for what he did?”

“Oh yeah.” I nodded. “He will.”

With a nod, Mitsuko looked at Samira and grinned. “See, I tell you ghost girl keep word. We safe now.”

“Not if I don't get you two out of here.” I held out my hands. “Come on, it's time to go.”

The two of them looked around Deena's apartment with puzzled expressions on their faces.

“I know the accomodations aren't great.” I told them, but no one will be looking for you here, and there are people who will watch over you while I'm gone.”

“What is this place?” Samira asked.

“Where I live.” I answered then shifted to Deena form. “You two wait here for a minute, have a seat, whatever. I'll be right back.”

I went across the hall and knocked on the door.

Frankie Rosa answered the door and I smiled up into his scarred, gentle face. His real name was Pablo, but everybody just called him Frankie. “Hey, Frankie, I got a favor to ask.”

“It is yours, hermana.” He answered without a thought.

“You don't even know what it is yet, dummy.” I lightly punched him in the chest and grinned. “Come on over to my place for a minute, would you?”

“Sure, what is this about?”

“You'll see.” I answered while opening my door and gesturing for him to follow me.

Mitsuko and Samira saw the bulk of Frankie and automatically pulled back as much as they could out of reflex. Frankie was a big man, and none of him was useless fat. He looked at them, then again at Samira and his expression darkened. With his scarred face that was kind of frightening.

And, as usual, he noticed, softening his expression and shaking his head while speaking softly to Samira. “Don't worry, I won't hurt you — like someone has done to you already chica. Who did this thing to you?”

Samira looked down at herself, and the fading and fresh bruises that showed with her scant costume, and shook her head. “I beat the crap out of him a while ago, it's okay. I'm away from that now.”

“Good for you, chica.” Frankie grinned and nodded.

“Samira, Mitsuko, this my neighbor Frankie.” I told them. “He's a good guy and I'm going to ask him to watch out for the two of you while I'm gone.”

“Are they running from bad people?” Frankie asked but was just seeking confirmation. He was far from stupid.

“Not for much longer.” I told him. “I just need these two to be safe for a little while. Can you watch over them for me, please?”

“Ehh!” He shook a finger at me. “You have to ask, hermana? Of course I will, and so will everyone else in this building. We know what you do, chica. And you help the rest of us all the time if there is need. Of course I — we, will watch over your friends. They will come to no harm if I can help it.”

“Thank you, Frankie.” I kissed his cheek.

“You do much that is good, as La Fantasma and as Deena.” Frankie answered, surprising me that he knew and he saw that with a smile. “What? Everyone in this building knows you come and go without using that door, and Danny Estevez has a story he tells at times. You do bloody work, hermana, but it is needed. Go. Do what you must. Your friends will be safe here.”

I nodded, and just went.

There was no need to hide the fact at that point was there?

As planned, Jean took out the place's communications with a burst of sunfire that lit up the whole city for a few seconds.

Kyle shattered the security doors separating the main facility from it's disguishing shell.

Megan was inside before he could do anything else, coldly eliminating anyone that tried to resist. No one inside those doors deserved even a little mercy and she gave none.

And me? I was back inside, raging in full fury. Literally. I was a red eyed, ghostly, ghastly demon that hunted down and destroyed anyone, anything, in my path. If they were guilty, they died. At least I didn't take out innocents, or my allies, though at times, it was a close thing. The ravening rage I was letting go of was more than frightening. It was terrifying, even to me.

FBI strike teams swarmed the place and they weren't taking prisoners either.

“My God!” Agent Michael Harris, accompanied by several heavily armed and armored agents stared sickly at the carnage I'd just committed in the security barracks. “What in the name of Heaven are you?”

“Nothing from Heaven.” I answered, turning my burning gaze to him and his companions. “I am Fury, Vengeance, Rightful Retribution, bloody, swift and implacable. And I am taking my due here and now.”

They found somewhere else to be, not that part of me blamed them for that at all.

I plowed into a bunch of bad guys who were pinning Doris down. No finesse. Just a pistol, fists, elbows, knees, feet and teeth. It takes less time telling than doing it did.

“My god, Diana!” Doris was watching me in a mix of awe and fear.

I felt impacts on my back, as the rounds hit, a lot of them, but I didn't go down, just turned to confront the shooters with a snarl and a wave of my hand. Leaving bloody smears on the wall they had been standing next to. I looked at Doris and shrugged. “I am THE Fury, Doris. What did you expect?”

Jean watched me kill another batch before she could burn them. Even she was shocked. I didn't care, or slow down. There were more here that needed killing and I was in full Fury mode. Nothing was going to stop me.

Megan watched me kill another group, looked at me for a moment, nodded, and went in search for other prey. She understood. And was as covered in blood as I was.

Jean, Doris, Megan and I raged through that hellish place and made it into Hell. Harris' men were no more forgiving than we were, especially after they found the holding cells and the pathetically broken, terrified creatures in them. If anything, that enraged them even more than what they had already seen and knew about.

Kyle was beside me when I cornered the last of the bad guys. I was getting ready to kill them when a hand touched my shoulder and a gentle voice interrupted me. “Enough, Diana. It's over.”

“It will never be over!” I turned to snarl at him and he just gave me a quiet, mournful look.

“No, not completely, but we did what we planned, what we set out to do here. It's time to stop now.” He persisted. “It's time to let this go for the time being. We have other things to see to now. You know that.”

It took more effort than I'd ever had to use, letting that rage that had filled me go. I had to fight it, push it away, hold it at arm's length then beat it into submission to manage that.

I managed. Barely. Then gave the cowering survivors a contemptuous look before turning and leaving the room without a word to anyone.

Once outside, amid the destruction, the dead and wounded, I sank to my knees and started crying. Silently at first, but it felt like my soul, or what was left of it, had been shredded then pulled a piece at a time out of me.

I cried for the victims in this, the ones we had managed to rescue and especially those I hadn't been able to save. I cried for the dead, all of them, that we or others had killed in this mess. Then for my friends, who had worked at what we had just done and agonized over it even though they knew it was necessary. And for me, the ravening, insane thing that I had become earlier, the shaking, grieving creature I was now. But mostly, for loss of an innocence I hadn't even been aware that I still had.

Arms were around me, holding me. Green arms, a pair wreathed in flame though it didn't burn, a set of human looking ones, and some masculine ones. All holding, all giving what comfort they were able as I let out years of agony I'd never even known I'd been holding in.

My friends.

Friends.

I actually had those now. I'd never let anyone get really close enough in my human life to really know friendship. Odd, that I had to die and become the spirit of vengeance to find that in life.

“Are you all right now?” Kyle softly asked as I wound down to an occsional hiccuoughing sob.

“Yeah.” I nodded then managed a smile. “I think so.”

Doris nodded and was soon speaking to someone on a phone. Where she'd managed to keep that without it getting damaged in all the mayhem I didn't know. She nodded and closed the connection. “It's done. The place in California, another in New York state, places in Argentina, Germany and Japan have all been taken. The warehouse where the chips were stored, and a factory that was turning out new ones are radioactive slag. It's over.”

Harris and his people were there, escorting the freed victims to vans and I watched that for a few seconds before answering. “Mostly, yes. But there is still more to be done. But that will be in other hands than ours.”

The healing that would be needed for the victims was going to be a long, slow, difficult process. Some of them wouldn't make it, I knew with a pang of grief.

But the rest of them would. And that thought made what soul I had left sing in joy.