Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, I just like to play with them.

Out of Pride's Ashes

"I don't know how else to say this, Brenda," Will Pope stared hard at Deputy Chief Brenda Johnson to drive home his point, "If you want something, go get it."

That final pronouncement made glaringly clear to her, the willowy blonde sniffed and spun on her heel, stalking off without further protest. Obviously this was a lost cause. Uncharitable thoughts about distraught mothers hovering and interfering in the investigation into the murder of their child flew through her mind. This particular mother was a former ADA and now followed the political circuit as a Congresswoman, who created a substantial burden with her incessant intrusions into the case revolving around her raped and murdered daughter, Carla Simmons.

Since the Congresswoman was hellbent on regaining her daughter's house- regardless of the fact that it was the crime scene- and the other officers in Brenda's Priority Homicide Squad were swamped with interviews, processing reports and sifting through possible leads, that left one lone free agent to comb through the victim's house. Brenda Leigh Johnson herself.

Thankfully, she made it back to the crime scene without too much difficulty. Smugly, Brenda reflected that she was possibly finally getting the hang of navigating LA's streets, with the fleeting thought 'so there' directed towards Sergeant Gabriel, who had rubbed in her poor sense of direction on previous occasion. After dispatching the hapless officer who clung to the sole remaining key to the house like it was a favourite teddy bear, Brenda finally had some peace and quiet to search through the house on her own. Her methods were not the most conventional, but it worked for her.

Sampling freely from Carla's candy supply, stored ever so temptingly out in the open on the coffee table, Brenda slipped off her heels and crawled around on all fours, rapping on the floors, checking beneath the carpet and under furniture for something, anything out of the ordinary. Despite the rigorous search, she didn't uncover anything interesting and replaced her heels, frustrated in her efforts. Glancing around the room thoughtfully, a relatively innocent looking ceramic container caught her eye.

Now what do we have here? Brenda wondered as she withdrew the contents, neatly tucked inside a plastic sachet. So Carla did drugs- whether that was a factor in her murder remained to be seen. Reflecting on this new discovery, she was oblivious to the intruder stealthily slipping into the room, looming behind her…

The instant she sensed something was wrong, it was too late.

Her hands flew up in shock as masking tape sealed her lips, preventing any screams from being heard, while grasping hands seized her wrists and pulled her backwards. Stunned surprise paralysed Brenda for a moment before her training kicked in, and she began to resist. Facing away from her attacker put her at a disadvantage, but she lashed out behind her with her foot, aiming for his instep and twisting her heel with savage pressure. She was rewarded with a grunt of pain as his grasp on her loosened and she pulled away, jabbing him in the gut with her elbow to drive home the point that grabbing a lady was not acceptable where she came from. Freed from the man's hold, she lunged away, hoping to put some distance between them in order to-

Oh! She mentally winced as the attacker reached out with an indiscriminate grasp, tearing at her thin wrap with one hand and tugging at a fistful of blonde curls with the other, jerking her head back painfully. Regaining his hold on Brenda, the man threw her down onto the floor, establishing himself on top of her, trying to hold her down with his own body. While he immobilized her arms with bruising force and attempted to wrestle her into submission, the assailant left himself vulnerable in one area and she took advantage, slamming her head backwards into his, making direct and satisfying contact. Before she could press it further, he reared back and smashed his fist against her head viciously, the floor rising to meet her with dizzying force as her vision blurred ominously.

Don't you dare give in, she warned herself. He is not going to win!

Despite this fierce resolve, Brenda was unable to free herself as the attacker flipped her over, now kneeling with his legs braced on either side of her body. She could not make out any details of his facial features, which were covered by a black ski mask, although his voice was distinctly gruff and irate.

"Damn bitch!"

The other pleasantries were obscured, however, by the grip on her throat he emphasized his rant with, leaving her choking for breath as it gradually tightened. As she weakened under his assault, for the first time, Brenda felt true fear as her struggles came to nothing.

Confident in his mastery, he rose off her, pulling her up with him and hurling her onto the bed. She continued to twist and buck, fierce as a wildcat, though dread clamped around her heart as he tugged at the neckline of her dress, ripping it down her front. Crime scene photos of Carla Simmons' ravaged body flooded her mind, the knowledge of what this man intended to do to her terrifying. He seized her bare thigh, exposed as the hemline of her dress rode up during the assault, and dug his nails into the tender skin-

You just wait, she vowed, jaw clenching against the indignity. Just one more second, just a little longer-

Intent on her body, he left her arms free and she reached underneath, desperately seeking the only hope of freedom and her salvation, the only instrument left to enable her survival- relief pounded through her veins as her hand clenched around her gun.

Digging it into his stomach ferociously, she ripped off the tape on her lips. "Feel that in your gut?" Brenda enquired through strained vocal chords.

He froze. "Are you loaded?" The shock incapacitated him.

"Get off me or you're going to find out!" she hissed, jabbing the gun in warning.

Her assailant, now defeated, eased gently away- not content with his slow pace, she bucked again and used her heel to boot him off her, sending him thudding to the floor none too gently.

"Take off your mask," she demanded. "Take it off now!"

"All right, all right," he pulled it off. "Please- don't shoot me."

With satisfaction, she briefly noted the blood trickling down from his nose, then growled, "You are under arrest, for breaking and entering, for assaulting a police officer-"

As he began to protest, shifting painfully, her fury boiled over.

"Move your little finger and I will blow your head off!"

TBC