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Inspector Osono fumbled with her pistol as the goons smirked and walked closer. Blasted thing…it never had problems when she WASN'T in danger, but now that she was-
The one goon who wasn't smiling – the head honcho - pulled her own gun up. "Figures. Cops have kids and lose their touch. How's your daughter gonna feel when Mom doesn't come home?"
Osono held it. Any snap of movement or anger would cause them to react with a bullet in her head. She just had to hold on for a little bit longer…one…two...
Three.
There!
A black figure swooped in, grabbing the goon who'd just threatened Osono with one hand and slamming her into the nearby fire escape. The other goons cursed and tried to aim their guns, but the figure wooshed around the alleyway. The subsequent rush of wind threw dirt and leaves up, and forced the goons to cover their eyes. The only one who still had a decent view aimed his pistol, but it was smacked out of his hand by the tail of a broom, and his head was slammed onto the sidewalk by an aerial roundhouse kick. The figure zoomed around the alley, giving the sidewalked goon two new best friends by grabbing their pants at knee level and flipping their legs out from under them. Turning around, the black figure grabbed a fourth goon in mid-flight and corkscrewed their broom, knocking them onto the ground like a high-schooler shooting a empty bottle three-pointer from the back of class.
One goon had managed to get the dirt out of his eyes. His pistol was drawn swiftly, but his aim wasn't as fast as the black yowling blur in the corner of his eye. He went down screaming, four sets of claws sunk into his face. The figure had landed and dispatched a sixth goon with a staff strike to the solar plexus, and a seventh felt the broomstick wrap around the back of their neck. A knee strike to their forehead, and they slumped down into the dust. The black figure stood panting for a moment until she heard her cat give a high screech. Whipping around – the last goon had made her hiding place the fire escape - she boxed with the scratchy tail end of her broom, kicked the groin, and sent the eighth and final goon zipping into the brick wall with a powerful side kick.
Inspector Osono started breathing again and peeled herself off the wall, relieved that the fight was finally over. She walked over as the figure examined the goons' suits for clues, the red mark on her helmet starkly contrasting her black suit in the tawny streetlight.
"Good timing. Any guess as to who they're working for?"
The figure stood. "None yet." They holstered their broomstick onto their back and coughed a few times. Osono raised an eyebrow.
"You know there's a lot of ways to disguise your voice."
"I don't know what you're talking about." The figure responded in their typical dark, gravelly tone. "I'll have to go look around. Ask Falcone if there's anyone I need to invite to our little weekly flights."
"You know interrogating him while only holding onto him with one hand as you fly is probably a form of torture?"
"I'm sure Falcone could name enough ways to torture someone that we'd be here until sunrise if we listened to them all. Besides, you've seen my control. The Spirit of Freedom incident proved that well enough-"
The figure moved, but Osono had it under control. Her ankle stepped down on the waking goon's gun hand, and a punch to the belly sent them convulsing with coughs. A palm hand strike to the forehead sealed the deal.
"Wow. Been finding enough time away from the kids."
"Everyone always underestimates me when they know I have kids. They also underestimate how good my husband is at being the house parent."
The figure grunted. "Admirable." They stretched out a hand, and the inky black cat slipped out of the shadows, climbing onto their shoulder as the figure brought their broomstick out. She jumped off.
"Wait! Miss Witch!"
Miss Witch turned and looked back at the Inspector.
"How can I get into contact with you again? If something comes up about the case?"
Miss Witch responded. "I have an associate. Their name's Flyboy. Head down to the beach where the amateur pilots fly. Bring a bicycle. They'll recognize you."
"What if you need to contact me?"
"You've got the Witch Signal. I'll see it."
The cat yowled.
"He says he appreciated how the metalworker mixed him into the signal as well. Good job."
"Well I should think so. That symbol took a few days to mak…"
Osono looked back, but there was...nothing. Not the breeze of a flight, nor the scratch of a broomstick could be heard. Miss Witch was already gone
"DAMMIT! Alone again?! How does this happen EVERY time?"
OOne goon groaned as they tried to stand. "Excuse me, we're still he-"
"DON'T make me count to three." The goon gulped, nodded in understanding, raised his hand, and slapped himself back onto the ground before Osono even held up a hand.
Osono smirked. "It's good to be the mom."