He'd been looking for her for weeks, and now it seemed like he'd caught her. It wasn't as if he'd done anything to warrant avoidance; Business had been going about like usual; his suit got damaged while he was out fighting crime, he texted her a location for pick up the suit to fix it, she nabbed it and returned it to the location the same time two days later, and picked up her payment from there..

About a week ago, that had stopped, and thus, his suit wasn't looking so great. He'd searched the local morgues to see if she'd met her end, asked around to see if anyone knew where she'd gone, and now he was resorting to staking out the apartment she lived in, suspiciously just across the street from the sanctuary. He hoped she didn't associate herself too heavily with the people from that place; he wouldn't want her mouthing off any choice details about the person who had attacked them recently. He winced a little from his wounds as he lowered his binoculars, and reached for the door handle.

He climbed out slowly, wincing. He'd seen someone who he could have sworn was the woman who called herself Charlotte. He couldn't be sure, but she'd visited the building a few times in the past few days. He couldn't quite see her face, and her hair had been dyed, but he had to check...

The walk to the apartment was a painful affair filled with limping. When he opened the door, with some effort, he spoke to the figure about to disappear into the elevator. "Hey!"

With an arm full of groceries, Megan balanced them on one hip as she pushed the bottom to her floor. She hummed a little tune in stuck in her head, and looked over the things she had bought at the store. Apple, greenery, and white meats for herself. Red meats, a few capped cups of blood from the butchers, and every random item Roach had scribbled down on his list.

...Really, did he need tennis shoes? For dinner?

Rolling her eyes at herself, she heard a shout not far off and caught a glimpse of someone hobbling toward the elevator. Someone... in oddly familiar clothing. A costume, even.

Her eyes widened, and she slammed her palm down on the door close button a few times. It slid shut before he got to her, and the whole thing jittered to a start, before climbing to her floor.

This... was not good. Not good at all. She'd been avoiding those damn texts for a reason, and if he had tracked her down she was in serious trouble. He was one of the things that connected her to her old life, a life she had willingly given up. She hadn't heard a peep from Trent in so long, she figured she had finally lost him.... but if old contacts, especially someone as note-able as him, came sniffing around, she'd get found out for sure.

When the elevator doors slid back open, she full out sprinted toward her apartment door, fumbling to her her keys out and ready.

Was she serious? Was she F$%^ING SERIOUS?!

His vision was swimming a bit... He'd been shot recently, so it was a little hard to focus, but he was almost sure he'd seen the woman he'd followed smack her hand on a button in the elevator. Considering the fact that the door closed in a hurry in response, he was pretty sure he knew which button that was...

"Bull@%#$!..." Needless to say, he wasn't in a good mood. He leaned against the wall for a second breathing deeply and nourishing his wound as he turned to the stairs, groaned in apprehension of the coming agony, and started climbing the steps. After a lot of cursing, stepping, and extra cursing, he poked his head into the third floor, and saw a woman struggling to get into the very same apartment he knew the person he was looking for lived in.

She wouldn't have any luck getting the door open, her giant cockroach of a room mate have decided on a whim to place every bit of furniture in the house against the door, and was currently wondering what was taking her so long to her the groceries to him.

Saph stumbled forward, his vision still blurry... Okay, maybe he should have rested longer...

"Ey... Stop, goddamit... you... you..."

He steadied himself against the wall, took a few deep breaths, and let his eyes focus. "You... Are not who I'm looking for." Christ, it wasn't her! He'd climbed all of those stairs for nothing!

The door. Wouldn't. Budge.

It wouldn't F@%KING budge! "Roach!? Roach you open this goddamn door right now! Or SO help me, i'll cut off your antennae and beat you with them!" She rattled the door again violently, and pounded her fist on it.

Then, the costumed kook caught up to her. Her gut told her to drop her groceries and run, but the sight of him changed her mind. He looked... winded. Quietly, she eyed him, her grocery bag clutched to her chest. It took her a moment to remember that he hadn't seen her since getting her face change. He thought she was someone else.

She didn't know whether to berate him for being an idiot, or take advantage of the fact that he didn't recognize her. Chewing on her bottom lip, she tried to come to a hurried decision. "....uh..." Though her looks had changed, her voice was very much the same. Furrowing her brow at the masked man, she kicked the blocked apartment door once more and set her bag down by the crack she had gotten it open. "Ya caught me... now go sit the f@%k down." She pointed across the hall, toward a little padded bench. "...What hell happened to you?"

He looked fine from the outside, not a scratch on his costume... but the way he was breathing and pausing to grip the wall pointed to something wrong. Scowling, Megan rolled up her sleeves, blew a few strands of loose fading, blond hair from her eyes, and crossed her arms over her chest what she waited.

"...This better be important... I could get in a lot of trouble if someone sees me with you."

Wait a minute...

What? Oh jesus, he was worse off than he'd thought, wasn't he? She looked nothing like who he was looking for, but... he would be damned if she didn't sound like her... And, come to think of it... She kinda moved like her. Not that he paid too much attention to how she moved in the past. He just happened to notice, is all.

Though the door, in response to her screaming, a loud voice boomed, "IM SORRY, I CAN'T HEAR YOU, IM TOO BUSY WAITING FOR A SLOWLY MC SLOW FACE WOMAN!"

Jesus, he was hearing things, too... Was he really that delirious?

"Long story....Yeah... Yeah I think I better sit down..." This chick had her voice, but not her face, there was a person with antennae behind the door, and he was being offered a seat by a complete stranger who he apparently had 'caught'

Yup, he was going to take the offer for the seat. He stumbled on over to the bench, and plopped down onto it, wiping some sweat from his brow.

"Explain to me... right now... what. The hell. Is going on, here? Cause me? I'm f@$@n mystified." He leaned forward and placed his head in his hands for a moment, wiping his face in an exhausted manner.

>>"Explain to me... right now... what. The hell. Is going on, here? Cause me? I'm f@$@n mystified."

Megan scowled at him, standing across the hall with her back flat against the wall, one leg hooked over the other, and her arms crossed over her chest. "You being in the dark is good. That's how I like it, mostly coz its really none of your damn business. All you need to know is that I am who you thought I was, and that you being here is seriously throwing a wrench in my plans."

Shifting a little and ignoring her roommates antics, she shoved her hands into her pockets and ordered the few spiders on her person out into the open. If he didn't get it after seeing the little blue eyed spiders marching up the wall behind her, he'd get it when she hawked a wad of silk in his eye. One way or the other, he'd realize. "You're acting like you took a serious beating... where's the armor? Did it survive whatever you put it through?" Raising a dark eyebrow, she stared him down. Waiting for answers.

"So you are her... but you got, what, plastic surgery? Fine, what ever. You say I'm throwing a wrench in your plans? What about you throwing a big goddam wrench in mine? The suit is in shambles, and it hasn't had a fix up in freakin weeks. You wanna talk about wrenches? I got half a mind to beat you up the head with one."

He sat up right and looked at her with that a-matter-of-fact look, as if her troubles couldn't, in any way, equate to his. In some ways he was right. She was only looking out for herself, he had the weight of a city on his shoulders, and he wanted that city to love him, not think him a scruffy old man with a knack for getting into trouble. He wanted people to see him, and feel proud, or scared... Not worried for his safety.

He let out a sigh as he looked up to her. "The armor is in my car. It needs a lot of work. I got some other things to talk about, too..."

>>"So you are her... but you got, what, plastic surgery? Fine, what ever. You say I'm throwing a wrench in your plans? What about you throwing a big goddam wrench in mine? The suit is in shambles, and it hasn't had a fix up in freakin weeks. You wanna talk about wrenches? I got half a mind to beat you up the head with one."

Her eyes narrowed further, and her cheeks flushed red. "You don't f**kin know me, you don't know what i've been through. You don't own me neither. I don't need to fix your goddamn suit." So what if he fancied himself a hero, he was just some douche in a costume to her. He was damn lucky his butt looked so good in that spandex, or she probably wouldn't have even been talking to him. Huffing, she turned her eyes away, brooding silently to herself. So what if her goals and troubles were of a purely selfish nature? He probably only wanted to act the hero because he was lacking elsewhere.

>>"The armor is in my car. It needs a lot of work. I got some other things to talk about, too..."

Pushing her anger aside momentarily, she glanced back to him. The armor was what he was bothering her about, so she figured she'd just grab it and get it fixed as fast as possible, then he'd leave her be. Still frowning,s he growled. "By all means, lead the way then. I can't very well do anything sitting in this damn hallway."

Saph growled, and stood slowly. "I don't care who you are. Unless there are thousands of people who depend on you, you can't even come close to understanding me." He turned and headed down the hallway, pausing to let her lead the way. He didn't appreciate the lip, but at least after a little complaining, she was willing to help.

He had to say that her work thus far had been much appreciated. While her armor only covered his nearly invulnerable side, it had worked to prevent a good many bullets from sticking painfully into his skin, and that had cut down on band-aid costs a lot; it had also discouraged many criminals from firing at him further. His whole bluff that shooting at him was useless had worked really up up until that bank robbery.

"Alright... I'll show you where my car is." He stumbled toward the elevator, letting her in first, because he was a gentleman and all, and pressed the ground floor button. Jees, this really beat the heck outa taking the stairs.

She stomped after, kicking her apartment door on the way past, before taking the lead. "Doesn't seem like you should be one to complain about your lot in life. It's not like the city's forcing that mask on you." She muttered, boarding the elevator and taking a spot leaning up against the wall. As far away from him as she possibly could. "You could easily choose to drop the act and go back to being just be a regular old a**hole like the rest of us."

She admired people like him, sure. They had an element of danger around them, and she had seen his work first hand. He didn't seem the type to take the easy way out. But that also didn't entitle him to think he was better than her simply because he ran around in a Halloween costume and put dangerous people down. "People like you don a cape and get a stick up your butt because you have the means to fight crime... but people don't depend on you as much as you think they do. There aren't damsel's in distress out there begging for the Masochist to come save them when sh*t hits the fan. They're waiting for the goddamn police. And yet somehow every jerk with the money to buy himself some armor struts around like he's the cream of the crop."

Folding her arms over her chest, she watched as the level numbers climbed down, and scowled at the doors. "You might as well be a high school jock. Only getting attention because you can bench more than the other guys." Part of her didn't really believe what she was saying... it was mostly thrown at him in anger. Another part of her was screaming at her to shut up, because for f@#ks sake she had seen the guy kill people before. And the alter ego she had made the armor for? He was a goddamn beast. Why the hell wasn't her shut up button working?

The elevator doors opened, and she took a step to exit.

Damn. She could really talk a mean verbal beating, couldn't she? To make things worse, he was too damned tired, too damned sore to post a rebuttal. Did he think he was better than her? No. He didn't even know her; for all he knew she was a freakin saint, that went about healing people and feeding the needy.

Did he think he was better than her if she spent all day hanging out with an apparently psycho room mate, who yelled through the door. "WHO THERE?! IMA CUTCHOO. IMA CUTCHOO BAD!" in response to the door knock, shopping, and scamming people, then he damn well knew he was better than her. He leaned against the wall on the elevator ride down, and staggered to a solid stand as the door open, limping laboriously toward the front door. "Right... what ever."

He knew that he couldn't quit... He'd given a lot of people in this city hope... Hope that even if they didn't live in a great part of town, someone would be watching out for them; someone would be a hero for them. If he quit, he would be spitting in the faces of every person he'd saved.

She lapsed into silence, hands stuffed in her pockets, and just followed him. She had said her beef, there was no need to drag it out any further.

Tromping along behind him, she got to attempting to figure out what kind of injuries he was suffering from, in order to try and guess at what he had been doing. Unfortunately, she was neither a doctor nor a nurse so she was left in the dark. He could have literally had a stick up his butt, as she had just accused, and she probably wouldn't have been able to tell without seeing it first.

Huffing to herself, she turned her attention elsewhere. The building was quiet, and the walls were boring. It left her with nothing to do but whine inwardly to herself about her situation and come up with grisly scenes in her head about how he had gotten harmed.

"... Why do you do this...anyway?" She asked after a few moments. She was curious as to what motivated people such as him. Those that put their lives at risk to uphold laws that they were technically breaking.

"I dunno if you would understand... It's something you have to feel to appreciate." He winced, and a hand wandered to his bullet wound as it complained silently... It hadn't reopened, he was pretty sure, but things like this didn't heal over night; he reminded himself to take it easy again.

He stopped at the exit to the building, and turned to look back at her. "Can you get that?" He motioned toward the door with his head, and stepped out of her way. He was sure of it; if she meant what she'd said just minutes ago, she would just think the words at the tip of his tongue when she asked that question were cheesy, and hollow; they really weren't though... He got this feeling when he saved a life, or punished someone truly irredeemable. It felt right.

Something you have to feel? Bah... how cheesy.

"What does it feel like, then? Righteous anger? Pity? Something emotional and sappy?"

She had felt a lot of things in her lifetime... most of which had varying levels of glee and different faces of anger... but she had virtually nothing to reflect back on that had ever made her want to put on spandex and run around the city at night frighting crime. Continuing on ahead, she pushed open the door and help it wide open, watching him intently the whole time. His answer had been half-assed in her opinion... and it only served to make her more curious.

Is it like... the feeling you get when watching car accidents? Like, excitement and fear mixed together? or... is it like watching a movie villain you love to hate getting what he deserves... you know, satisfaction?"

Maybe it was like the feeling when you got overpaid, but neglected to say anything. Devious glee, or something.

"What does it feel like, then? Righteous anger? Pity? Something emotional and sappy?"

Maybe it was the bullet wound, maybe it was the fact that he hadn't slept much, or maybe it was just that he wanted to get this over with so he could get back home and see a certain someone, but he wasn't a fan of all of the questions right now.

"Look, maybe you'll save someone's life some day; someone who deserves it, and maybe you'll know what I'm talking about that, but until then, trying to explain it is useless."

The truth was, he really couldn't find the words for how being the Masochist, or even the Judge made him feel; It could be a combination of those feelings she stated, or something greater... he didn't know what it was. His eyes wandered to the opened door before him. He limped through it, and eyes his car across the street. Jees, it really hadn't looked like such a great distance to travel on the way in. Maybe he was pushing himself too far.

He hadn't eaten yet today, either. Maybe that was it. He started to walk down the street.

"I got my reasons, and it ain't only just that feeling. Sometimes you just have to make yourself strong enough to protect the ones you love. Doing this, you'll either get tough, or die."