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(m'kay X3)

Atticus didn't want her to go but he stood up, "Um, yeah it's getting kinda late..." he sighed, trying to think of how movies, with scenes like this played out.... he decided kissing her might cross the line so he drop that thought all together.

Scout looked up and yawned, he rose with a grunt and stumbled over to Heather, sleepily wagging his tail and looking up at her.

She nodded, turning slightly then noticing Scout. "Aww, bye doggy! I'll see you later!" She hummed, kneeling don and scratching to dog between the ears. She looked back up at Atticus and arose. Kissing was definatly off of her list for now, but she decided that a hug wouldn't hurt. Heather laced her arms around the back of his neck and hugged him gently.

"Call me, i'd love to hang out some more." She muttered before pulling away from the hug and walking out the door.

Atticus just stood with a small smile on his face he watched her go then he heard Scout make a sound and he looked at the dog. "Back off Rover, she's mine." he teased patting the dog roughly.

The bus that she needed to get back to her apartment screeched away from her as she approached it. Heather ran after it a few steps and then shivered, that was the last bus of the night. With a small frown she began walking down the sidewalk. It was about a half an hour walk, and she didn't have any cash on her for a taxi.

Three men stood boasting in an ally-way, that wasn't uncommon in New York. BU\ut when the men saw the bus screech away they all looked over at Heather, these guys where Thugs, the lowest possible category a Mafia member could get. The tall black haired man nodded and he and his companions started out toward Heather. "Seems like you've got a bit of bad luck eh', dear?" the black haired man asked.

Heather looked over the 3 Thugs, and her lips pulled into an even deeper frown. They didn’t seem like the type to just offer rides home. Still, Heather put on her brightest smile, like she was genuinely pleased to see them. People were easy to read, and right now, they seemed pretty relaxed. Maybe they were just there to tease her.

“Yeah, things seem to be going that way lately. A lot to be stressed on with the economy and all. Oh well, a nice long walk should do me some good.” Heather said cheerfully, acting as if she was oblivious to the danger that these three men contained.

The black haired thug nodded "Indeed, indeed... but you know my dear..." he said pulling out a knife "...you said it yourself, the economy is bad... and we all need to earn a little money." he smiled. His friends started to circle Heather.

Heather pulled her lips into a half smile, half scowl. She shrugged and emptied her pocket, not wanting trouble. Heather fished around, all she had was her phone on her, and would they want that? Maybe. She held out her phone to whoever wanted it and shrugged again.

“Sorry guys, I don’t have any money on me, but you can have my phone. I get it, times are tough ya’ know? I’d do the same.” She said easily, even though she wouldn’t. She kept her calm, still not realizing the danger she was in.

"Oh, what a shame..." the black haired thug shook his head. His friend lunged and each grabbed one of Heather's arms... "I'm sure you can pay us some how." he smirked wickedly and brushed the blade of the knife under her chin.

Heather jutted her jaw up a bit, never showing how terrified she was. She looked him up and down, the knife pointed into her chin and caused a slight pain. Heather blinked her caramel eyes and mulled over to situation for a moment. She could try to quickly whip her arms away from them and make a dash for the nearest store, but they were probably a whole lot faster than her. She could try to scream bloody murder and attract attention, but there was no one but there but her and the thugs. She could beg a pleade for her life, but that was to cliche, they'd expect that and it'd only excite them further.

"Killing me would make you're objective of gaining money void. I have an apartment just down the road, with cash and credit cards and all sorts of nice things. I could take you there, all the money I have would be yours. I'm just saying, you wanna make a quick buck off of me, then you shouldn't kill me. That'd just go on your record and you'd remain broke." Heather reasoned, but her tone was short and clipped, she was trying too hard to keep her cool.

The thug flashed a wicked grin, "I dunno doll, maybe we could get more than a quick buck from you-"

"You won't be getting anything from her!" the voice made tue thugs turn to see a figure standing at the end of the ally.

Heather gulped when he said those words and right then wanted to run away, far away, and hide. She snapped her head around to see a figure standing at the end of the alley. The voice was familiar, too familiar, but what did Heather know? Nothing. She looked at the figure, greateful for his apperance.

The newcomer came walking toward the thugs, with a fearless manner. He was dressed, more or less, like a soldier of some sort. Heavy black cowboy boots. Dark denim blue jeans. A grey hoodie, with the sleeves cut off, and the hood pulled over his head, so it shadowed his face and made his features hard to see. A bullet proof vest over his hoodie. Some black 'workers' gloves, and one-way sunglasses, only he could see out them but no one could see in. An instantly noticeable things about the stranger where, on his left shoulder he bore a fresh pink scar, it looked like the remains of a severe burn he had once received. Then on his right arm was a older scar, still clearly visible. It started at his wrist and ran all the way up the under side of his arm.

The black haired thug laughed: "Who are you supposed to be?!"

"I could ask you the same thing." the stranger replied.

The thug laughed again: "Tough talk... fer' a fella without defense!" he lunged at the man knife readied to strike but the strange caught his arm as the knife was only inches from his own face, not flinching at all.

"I would drop it if I where you." the stranger advised.

"But your not me!" the man snarled taking a swing with his other hand, only for the challenger to duck, slip behind him and bend his arm back in an awkward position. The thug cried out with agony and dropped his knife. "What's your deal! You a cop or something?!" he whined.

The stranger threw him to the ground and picked up his knife, twirling it expertly in his gloved hand. "A cop? Hardly... My name's Ghost." He replied calmly.

Heather looked at 'Ghost' dumbfounded. She'd just been talking about him with Atticus! He couldn't mess up now, he couldn't get caught, he was a good guy. Heather began struggling, only to be denyed freedom. She looked at the two other thugs with a irratable expresion, like a kid who was sick and tired of being scolded. Heather wanted them to let go of her, but her eyes then locked with the dark, sun-glasses that revealed nothing. Her breathing caught, what if this 'Ghost' guy wanted to kill her, too? Heather would try to run, but would she get far enough away? Probably not. Heather squeaked a little, now noticing the nervous pressure that the thugs were putting on her arms.

She yanked away from one, only to be gripped tighter. His hands came down on Heather like a pair of metal clamps and she yelped.

"Ouch! Let me go!" She whimpered, trying to struggle some more.

Ghost turned his shadowed face to Heather and the other thugs, he placed a booted foot on the other man's back and pinned him to the ground then he turned to the other thugs and pointed the knife at them. "Let her go." he ordered.

The thugs glanced at eachother, "No, don't let her go you fools!" their boss growled.

Ghost chucked the knife and it whizzed past on of the thugs head, he yelped and booth thugs released Heather and threw their hands in the air.