The caped crusader, crouched atop its highest tower, shrouded in shadows, looked out over his city, and allowed himself a rare smile. Everything was quiet. He'd taught the underworld to fear the night. To fear him.
A sudden, impossible genteel cough behind him made him spin around, night-black cape swirling dramatically as he faced... a slightly pudgy young woman wearing a very serious pinstripe suit and the tightest, most controlled bun in her hair. He hesitated.
A wintry smile, all thin lips, as the stranger focused on him. "Good evening... let's agree on mister B shall we, since we are both people that value their... privacy." The way she said it made it clear she knew exactly who he was.
How did she get up here without him noticing? And how could she know? "Who... are you?" the vigilante asked warily.
"Oh, my apologies. How rude of me." Again, that tight-lipped smile. "I'm Vee, a process server for the Night Court, here to deliver a cease and desist notice from said Court." She patted the thick folder she was holding.
"It has come to the attention of members of the Court that you have been telling criminal scum that you are, and I quote, 'The Night'". Vee wagged a finger at him. "Naughty, naughty. You, sir, are not part of the Night Court, nor will you ever be." She paused, considering something, before begrudgingly adding a sotto voce "Probably."
The strange woman waved the thought away as unimportant. "Some of our more esteemed constituents took umbrage, one thing led to another, which brings us to us meeting here like this on this fine night." With a flourish, she produced a document, holding it out to him. "You, sir, are being served."
This was ridiculous. Some kind of joke. But what he could read of it, the recipient section, wiped away any thought of dismissing the woman and whatever her game was. How did she know?!
The vigilante swallowed, fingers almost closing around the order - but not quite. "And if I... don't? Will I need to pay a... fine?"
Vee's smile grew wider. "Oh, no sir, our constituents don't really care about... money." She cocked her head. "Or second chances, really, if you know what I mean." A wink. "Choose wisely. Have a pleasant rest of your evening, mister B."
Wider and wider her smile grew, impossibly wide, and it finally had teeth. So many teeth too many teeth sharp and dripping ichor and still her mouth grew... until suddenly, she wasn't there, the only sign she'd ever been there, had been real, fluttering in the vigilante's terrified death grip...
