[center][b]Location:[/b] [i]The wrong place?[/i]
[b]Event:[/b] [i]Never trust a forced confession.[/i][/center]

Bouncer’s teeth ground together so hard she felt like one of them might crack. The apartment was disheveled but otherwise empty of life, as if the occupants had left in a hurry. Her nails dug into the flesh of her palm. The unconscious bodies outside, the three masks she’d passed on the way in… [i]They’d let them get away.[/i] 

She tore through the apartment, looking for someone, [i]anyone[/i] who might still be around. She tore a door from its hinges, sending it hurtling behind her and smashing into the opposite wall. Nothing. She kicked in the door of the bathroom, sending it hurtling into the tub hard enough to leave holes in the porcelain. [i]Nothing.[/i] The singing in her veins was dimmer now, and Bouncer felt the anxiety begin to set in, the urgency to let it continue. 

There was a bang as someone kicked in the door to the apartment. Bouncer vanished with a soft [i]thp[/i] and was back at the entrance, eager for a fight with one leg already flying through the air, ready to catch the side of someone’s head. But no- an instant before it could, she vanished with another [i]thp[/i] and reappeared in the hall of the apartment, across from the door. It was the masks again, apparently down one member. She wouldn’t mind throwing blows with them, but that would just end up causing trouble for Ms. Stark. 

“No one’s here,” she said petulantly, stating the obvious. “That mess you made outside must’ve scared them off.”