[ WP ] In typical fashion , just as the bad guy is about to shoot you it 's he who is shot . You 're relieved you 're about to be saved , but the `` hero '' is far more terrifying than the bad guy .

The shot echoed around the warehouse just after the bullet tore through Christopher's chest. His revolver fell to the diamond-plate walkway and he fell after it, a crimson stain spreading across his back. Still in standing in the place she was when she shot the villain was our hero. Adorned in heavy metal armor and wielding what looked like a shotgun was the Phantom. The Beast of the East. The Devil in Disguise. I feel as if the nicknames are enough of an explanation. 
 
 `` Back, back,'' I hissed, pushing the few survivors behind me on the walkway. The Phantom marched forward and retrieved the revolver, examining it with steel-colored eyes. She stuffed it into the bag on her hip and approached me, each step bringing the war-machine closer. Those who did n't know her would n't be frightened by her appearance; she stood around five-foot and looked more like an angst-y teenager than anything else. 
 
 But all of us knew the atrocities she had committed. In her defense, we had committed similar atrocities ourselves. She was n't her to stop Christopher, she was here to kill us. 
 
 `` Out of the way,'' Her voice turned my blood to ice. One of the more gutsy men pushed his way past me and stood before her. 
 
 `` You'll have to get-'' She fired and I was showered in blood and pieces of bone. The man, now minus a good chunk of his head, slumped back against me, forcing me to the floor. The Phantom stepped over me, placing her boot firmly on my chest. 
 
 `` I'm looking for Abraham Hughs,'' She growled the name, `` any of you-'' She paused, glancing over her shoulder at something, `` right,'' She whispered, as if someone had told her something. There were claims of her insanity, but I had expected them to be just that. 
 
 `` Here's the deal, I want to kill every last one of you, but I do n't want to go through a box of ammo,'' She pulled the magazine out of the shotgun, `` you tell me who knows where Hughs is, and I'll leave.'' 
 
 `` I-I do,'' Marcus pushed his way through the crowd. The young scout had found the warlord's territory in the past and had kept it a close guarded secret. I wanted to yell at him, to remind him that the shotgun still had a single round chambered in it, but that would only fuel the Phantom's rage. 
 
 `` Why do you need Hughs?'' Marcus asked. The kid had guts, standing face to face with the Beast of the East, asking her a question instead of answering her own. There was a brief flicker of sadness, of *humanity*, across the monster's face, but the blank slate returned. 
 
 `` Because,'' She said, stepping up to the scout, `` because, I need to find him, cut open his back, yank his lungs out, and watch him die. Slowly. So you'd better tell me where he is or you'll get the same treatment.'' 
 
 `` He's about a mile east of the ruins of Atlanta, in a fortified cit-'' The shotgun rang out once more and Marcus fell to the walkway, clutching his ears. Sliding the shotgun back onto her belt, the Phantom took a long look at all of us. 
 
 `` If Hughs gets wind of me and disappears, I will track every last one of you down and make sure it's slow and painful,'' She stepped over me again and disappeared out of the open door.
