At first Ethan was glad that she was gone. No more distractions and pain. He could just drink himself to death, a proper whiskey lullaby for a man who had no one and nothing left to lose. But as the seconds ticked by, his anger began to dissipate, like when the sun pierced the fog on a cold morning. It was still cold, and the fog was still there, but there was a window to see through to the other side. That is what Ethan was doing right then. He was still angry, but common sense and logic were showing him that his rage had been misappropriated. Subconsciously he reached for another bottle of liquor, though it never found his lips. Instead he threw it in the trash and raced out the door without even stopping to put on a pair of shoes. He raced down the stairs, hoping to catch Charlotte before she left the building, but she had moved quickly.<br/><br/>Ethan stepped out of the building and into the street a little, looking in every direction for Charlotte. To his dismay he could not see her, but there was movement in the alley next to his building. He sprinted in that direction, and as he got closer, he could hear the sounds of a struggle. ".... she killed those people. We'd be doing the world a favor."<br/><br/><i>'Bingo...'<br/>
</i><br/>Ethan stopped just short of the corner, sneaking the last few steps quietly so he could figure out what he would be facing. He peeked around the edge of the brick, finding the five punks from before, plus one Montgomery with her back against the wall and her hands held tightly behind her. A fresh laceration marred her left cheekbone. Ethan watched as the supposed leader of the group put his forearm against her jawline, turning her head and pressing her other cheek against the building. Their plan would be simple and very straight forward; they wouldn't be looking for him, so he had surprise on his side. None of them brandished a weapon of any kind, but that didn't mean they weren't armed.<br/><br/>The head hood pulled at Charlotte's top, stretching the neck until it tore, leaving her only half covered. All their attention was then focused on her bared skin, giving Ethan the opening he needed. He darted around the corner, passing two members of the gang and grabbed the leader by the back of his jacket. Clenching a fist around the material, he spun and pulled at the same time. Like a rag-doll he flew backwards, crashing into the fire escape before falling limp, face down on the floor. Disoriented, the two flanking the leader whirled around to see what had happened, but they were too late. Ethan's metal fist connected with the first's jaw just below his ear, knocking him off his feet. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.<br/><br/>The second started to reach for something, but Ethan was too fast. He grabbed the punk's wrist tightly and twisted, forcing him to turn around as an unreasonable amount of force was placed on the joint. He was quickly relieved of the firearm that he had tucked away inside the belt of his pants, which was used to pistol whip the owner before it was pointed at the three remaining offenders. Ethan dashed to the side, placing himself between Charlotte and the gang members defensively. One last attempt to turn the tide was made as the young man to Ethan's right came in swinging a knife. Pressing in toward him rather than backing off, Ethan slammed his elbow against the man's sternum, causing him to reel backward. He then grabbed the hood's arm, squeezing, effortless snapping both the bones in his forearm. The thug wailed in pain, stumbling backwards and falling to the ground.<br/><br/>To the two remaining gang-bangers, Ethan squared up and pointed the weapon at them. "Alright dickbags, the way I see it you have two choices. You either grab the other three members of your boy-band and get the fuck out of here, or you'll end up worse than them. You'll be alive... but you'll wish I would've just killed you. You get me?" The unwavering resolve in Ethan's voice was absolute. He was furious with all them, but he was not an out-of-control monster. For a moment, the two debated internally, planning their next steps very carefully. Slowly they lifted their hands and began to back off. "Good choice. Now if you or any of your crew bothers me or Char ever again, I will fucking end you. I'll end your families. Hell i'll find your dead pet, dig it up, and mail its rotting corpse to your grandmothers, you understand me? Now GET the fuck out of here."<br/><br/>No one bothered to collect the leader. They tried, but his limp body and lack of moment told them that he was already dead. Once they were out of sight, Ethan crushed the handgun in his grasp, then turned toward Charlotte. "I know you hate me right now, but don't fight me on this. Give me a few minutes and then you can go if you want. Let's get you off the street before someone decides to call the cops or worse." She didn't have much of a reason to trust him, but he didn't really see that she had any other options. What he'd said to her was horrible, and he knew that any chance he had of even being able to call her a friend, much less anything else beyond that, were gone. But she had done the same for him. The least he could do was return the favor.