The broken-down barrios of New York City would probably be the last place someone would suspect to see Emily Leveau. This was Trinitario territory. Two years ago, I had belonged to the Latin Kings. But the Trinitario had a tendency to dispose of anyone who got in their way.

In a single-story shot-gun home sat the undead mutant. She was chatting quietly with a Dominican voodoo follower. They had met at a temple two years ago and had kept in touch ever since. The dark-skinned woman had her hair in dreadlocks that she kept wrapped up in a scarf. Dark circles sat under her eyelids from lack of sleep. She feared her son, Hector, may be getting involved with the Trinitario.

Emily had come over to comfort Nalia, bringing groceries and shoulder to cry on. They had made dinner and Emily watched as the other woman ate. The dishes had been done and now they sat in the quiet house. Hector had been gone for two days. Nalia was worried sick, but Emily tried to convince her it was normal for a fourteen year old boy to hang out with their friends for extended periods of time.

There was a banging at the front door, which startled the two women. It was Hector. Nalia unlocked the five locks that secured the wooden door and the medal, barred door in front of that. The young boy rushed into the room, speaking rapidly and urgently. Emily could not understand what they were saying to each other, but it was apparent Hector wanted his mother to go with him. Nalia just stood there, confused, but happy to see her son was alright.

A car screeched to a halt in front of the house. Hector slammed the doors shut and locked them. Out came five men flying Trinitario colors. They wielded machetes. Nalia ran into the back room. Hector stood dumbfounded. Angry shouts came from outside the home. Again. Emily did not know what they were saying. But it wasn’t good.

Nalia came back, carrying two shot-guns. She handed one two Emily and asked if she knew how to use it. The mutant gave a determined nod. Glass broke from the front window in the dining room. Then from the window in the living room. The Tinitarios hadn’t brought guns, but one was lighting what seemed to be a liquid soaked rag inside a glass bottle. Emily knew none of the neighbors would call the police. The police probably wouldn’t come to this side of New York City anyway. They were on their own.

A fight was happening in the ghetto, and it was machetes versus shotguns.

Svetlana started patrolling these neighborhoods after a few things happened: One, she finally became confident enough in her shooting skills that she did not need another, actually useful mutation nearby that she could boost. Two, she became too well known in the better neighborhoods as "Scarlet Russian" "Red Russian" (oh joy) or "That Blonde Chick In Red", and she decided that publicity was not a positive part of being a vigilante.

Three, many of these people actually needed her.

She was still looking out for women and children. She had spotted the mother a couple of times before, sometimes alone and sometimes with the kid. She kept an eye on her whenever she passed by, made sure no one was bothering them.

Someone was bothering them now.

With Molotovs.

Sveta swung down the fire escape that she had been perched on. It was not the safest structure in the world; "escape" seemed like overly confident. She stopped on the landing conveniently looking towards the street front and the car. With the guys. With machetes.

The first shot was a warning. Scare tactics worked three times out of four.

"Dat's not how you make Molotovs, you morons."

The biggest of the six snarled at the blond woman, “Desaparece, rubia, este no es tu lucha.” They had come to intimidate the family that lived inside. If lives were lost…eh. The man barked out orders to one man and motioned another to deal with the pretty lady. “Jose, vaya alrededor y chequea si se abre.”

“Hector! Nos has traicionado!,” one man yelled as he headed behind the house, “Nadie traiciona los Trinitarios!”

The man that headed toward the blond woman believed she was too beautiful to use a weapon on him. Let’s scare her with his muscles, tattoos, and impressive facial hair.

Two of the others tossed the lit bottles into the broken windows of the home. Emily set the gun down and grabbed the blanked that lay on the couch. She hastily began to try to smother the flames.

Hector grabbed the gun to protect his home and shot twice out the dining room window, ignoring the flames that had begun to eat the dining table that once belonged to his grandmother. His mother shot from the living room.

The blanket had only fed the fire. There was a small fire extinguisher under the kitchen sink. Emily ran to it and began to use it in the dining room, but the fire had already spread to the countertops. She was afraid the house was beyond being saved.

Sveta did not need to understand street level New York Spanish to know what was being said to her. She was already back in cover and working her way through a window into the nearest apartment. She could try to pick them off from the fire escape, but that did not guarantee people in the house would not get hurt in the meantime.

While some of them started throwing Molotovs, she could see one guy going around, probably to the back door of the apartment. Sveta knew she needed to get there first. Bursting through an (apparently empty) apartment she ran down the stairs and out the back of the building just in time to see the guy round the corner into the alley.

Sveta fired without warning, and this time it was to wound. She might not hit him, but so far none of them seemed to be carrying firearms...

Jose made his way to the back of the building. The shots that rang out and hit him in his shoulder were a complete surprise. He threw his glass bottle at the back door, setting it ablaze. Jose hid to avoid being shot again and made his way to the front where his companions were. The others decided to take cover to avoid the blonde’s bullets.

Emily frantically tried to put out the flames. “We have to get out of here.”

Nalia shot once more out the window. “We can’t go out the front.” She ran to the back and began to place her had on the backdoor knob. “It’s hot! The back door is blocked.”

The smoke was beginning to get overwhelming. Hector began to cough. Emily gave him a wet rag to put over his face. They couldn’t get out through the windows because of the iron bars. Emily broke the rest of the windows, hoping to let in more fresh air. “Help! Ayudame!” She screamed out each window.

The guy retreated from the back door, but not before he set it ablaze.

"Sh*t." Sveta fired another shot to make sure he didn't return to stab her in the back, before she hopped down from the fire escape, slid down the top of a trash container, and ran over to the door. It was on fire, and she could hear yells from the other side through the windows.

Sveta holstered her gun, and looked around for an idea. Her gaze fell on the smaller garbage cans in the alley.

"Get back from the door!" she yelled towards the window, before she picked up a smaller trash can and used it to keep a distance between herself and the door on fire. Fortunately, being on fire weakened the door enough that a solid hit unhinged it, and it fell into the apartment.

"Come on! All of you! We need to go!" Sveta yelled, coughing from the smoke and blinded by the head. The doorway was momentarily open enough for people to get through. Backing away, she pulled her gun again and looked around.

"To the fire escape! Go!"

The two Dominicans rushed through the back door, grateful this blonde woman was helping them. Emily continued to try to put out the fire. If it spread too far, the whole building would go up in flames.

The gang members had decided it was time to leave. They had done what they came to do, which was intimidate the family. Maybe Hector would think twice before hitting on one of their girls. They made a few obscene gestures and packed into their car. Emily did not notice their leaving, her focus was fully on the fire. She had succeeded in putting out the kitchen, but the living room could be called an inferno.

The mother motioned her son to get down the fire escape first, but the boy turned back. “Mi tortuga!!” The boy may have been fourteen, but he already toward over his mother. He attempted to rush back into the back door, but the heat was too much for him.

>>“Mi tortuga!!”

Sveta's Spanish did not extend to that word, but she had a vague impression that it referred to some kind of a pet, not a person. Looking at the blazing inferno inside, she decided pets were just not worth the risk.

"Hey!" she yelled, grabbing the guy by the back of his belt and unceremoniously yanking him back "You can't go back in there! Up the ladder! Now!"

She used leverage to toss the boy back away from the door, and turned to look in through the window. She thought she saw a shape moving behind the smoke.

"Is there any other person in there?" she yelled, both to the family outside, and whoever was still in the apartment. She really didn't feel like going in there. But a person was not a pet.

The sound of sirens could be heard several blocks away. The fire could consume the whole block if it wasn’t contained. Other families were evacuating their homes. A crowd had gathered outside.

Hector didn’t like to be told what to do, especially by some white stranger. But the fire had become too hot. His precious turtle would have to lose its life. He helped usher his mom down the fire escape. The woman screamed at the blonde lady as she was whisked away. “My amiga! My friend is still in there!”

The fire extinguisher was empty. The house was lost. New memories would have to be made. Emily heard the fire trucks getting closer. They would be able to stop this chaos. The girl attempted to get out through the front door, but the ceiling had caved in, blocking the entrance. The back door was in flames. If Emily walked through fire, her skin would cook in seconds, never to heal. Emily may have no choice. She went through the rooms, hoping to find a window with no bars.

A large box turtle sat in his tank, seemingly unaware of what was happening around him. The mutant grabbed him and tucked him under her arm. She thrust the turtle through the back bars. “Someone take the turtle! I’m gonna go through the back door!”

>>“My amiga! My friend is still in there!”

Wonderful.

Sveta made sure the boy and his mother were running in the right direction before she considered the flaming door again. Right next to it, a pair of arms appeared through the bars of the window.

Fo course there were bars on the window.

>>“Someone take the turtle! I’m gonna go through the back door!”

Turtle. Tortuga was a freaking turtle.

Sveta unveremoniously grabbed said turtle and handed it down to the mother, who handed it to the boy, who seemed relieved. The amiga, on the other hand, was still inside.
Coming out through the back door. Too bad the back door was in flames.

"Uh..." Sveta shrugged out of her jacket and held it read to put out flames if she caught any "Be careful!"

Emily couldn’t stay inside the house. Dying of smoke inhalation wasn’t the problem. Well, death by any means was never a problem. It was her flesh cooking that frightened the girl. It would turn black and fall off her bones. Emily didn’t want to be just bones. She would take the risk of minor skin loss than cooking in an oven.

A blonde woman in a mask grabbed the turtle. Who in the world was she? How long had she been there? As the masked woman grabbed the turtle, her hand grazed the undead girl’s. Emily suddenly felt different. All feelings the southern girl felt were emotional. She no longer felt pain, adrenaline, itchiness, or pleasure. She never felt tired or extra energized. When you hit her knee, it did not jump up as a reflex.

Emily couldn’t put her finger on this feeling. Was it happiness? It seemed like a kind of happiness. Why was she happy in such a dire situation? Did she have a crush on the blonde girl and when they touched it made her happy? No, that couldn’t be.

The bedroom was on fire. The hallway was on fire. Emily didn’t notice, but half of her clothes had burned away. As she walked through the back doorway, the beams gave in. A large wooden beam landed on Emily, pinning her to the ground. “Help! Get this thing off of me!”

This rescue operation was not going as smoothly as planned. But at least they were not being shot at anymore.
There were sirens in the distance.

"Go flag down de firemen and bring dem around!" Sveta yelled to the boy and his mother. She could make out the shape of the girl who handed out the turtle, and could tell she made for the back door.
And then the beams gave in.

>>“Help! Get this thing off of me!”

Sveta was already moving. She used the jacket she had been holding to put out the flames threatening the girl's face before she grabbed the beam and tried to shift it off balance, taking enough weight off for the girl to crawl out if she could.

Come on come on come on...

"Dis would be... a really great time... for you to be a mutant..." she muttered through gritted teeth.

Emily has always worked hard to keep up her appearance. Almost two centuries had passed since her death. Flies were avoided and killed on site because maggots were not something she wanted to deal with. Chopping foods was a delicate task. And like the reanimated monster from Dr. Frankenstein, Emily avoided fire like the plague. Fire bad.

The girl was frantic. If she breathed, she would be hyperventilating. Emily grabbed at the blonde woman when she approached, as a drowning person would desperately cling onto a flotation device. If she wasn’t careful, the woman could fall into the flames. But Emily wasn’t thinking. She was in a panic.

But the masked woman seemed to ignore the danger and lifted the beam for Emily to crawl out. The girl grabbed the other’s bare ankle and used it as leverage to hoist her free.

Her clothes were pretty much incinerated. How embarrassing. Emily hysterically looked over herself for signs of burns. “Am I ok?” Nalia rushed over and covered her with her son’s oversized basketball jersey. “Thank you, Nalia. I-“ And with that, Emily fainted. She would probably wake up in a few minutes, but for now, she was out cold.

>>“Am I ok? Thank you, Nalia. I-“

"Oh, great." Sveta dragged the girl away from the door. She was out cold. The other woman appeared to cover her up; with that and the singed clothing, Sveta couldn't tell how serious her wounds were.

"Help me." together they dragged the unconscious form away from the flames, off the fire escape, and into the alley behind the building. Sveta could hear sirens in the distance, but they were far off. This part of town was not easy to navigate.

They lay the girl down on the ground, and Sveta knelt to check her wounds.

"Sh*t. She's not breathing." she checked for pulse on her neck and wrists, but couldn't find any. There was definitely no breath.

"C'mon" Sveta muttered as she rolled the girl onto her back to start CPR. One. Two. Three.
Breathe.

If anyone could do a kiss of life, Sveta should have been the one to do it.

Emily’s eyes fluttered and she opened them. “I’m fine. Sorry for passing out like that. All this chaos must have finally got to me.”

She sat up and surveyed her surroundings. Her friend came over to her and asked if she was alright. Emily nodded. The fire department had arrived and began to unfurl their hoses. Some neighbors looked on while others found places to go. Men in uniform were not welcome in this part of the city. People didn’t want to be around when they began to ask questions.

Nalia and Hector were beginning to fidget. They didn’t want to talk to anyone either, even if it had been their home that was destroyed. Emily turned to the masked woman. “Thank you. For saving me. But we need to go. You can come with us if you want.” Two blocks down there was a small restaurant owned by Nalia’s cousin. She knew that was where they were headed.