The night had fallen around Widemill and when it did, decent people didn't wander around that alley. It belonged to Phillip, the criminal, the fiend. And it belonged to Jule too. She belonged to Libera as a whole and kept away from no alleys. And that night, she had business with another type of fiend.

The street's smell wafted into the air, stinking the surroundings. Rotten food and a particular strong scent of blood. Phillip was probably up in a bar stealing payments for those who had no money. He had a gruesome way of punishing, and at night, that street was his turf. No merchants around, no florists trying to delete the stench from the night before. If there's a switch, she'd leave it turned into day forever.

A door slammed shut nearby.
She signaled with her head to the left as soon as the man came around, whistling as if no harm had been done. She'd judged more than a thousand man like him, they all believed their actions represented no crime. The world was theirs to take, or so they thought.
People called him Luster, and Phillip had no connections with him. He was just a small thief on Phillip's big territory.

He had a gnarly scar running from his cheek to his lip, and saliva pooled at the corner where he'd lost feeling. He couldn't be less than sixty, a lord just like any other, except he didn't own a house, or a company, or a place at the city's assembly.

He owned only misery and brought only pain to others. A disgusting man deserved no pity, only justice.

She jumped in his way, swaying her hips. The short dress worked its purpose and she leaned in, touching his arm with her small breasts.
"On for a little fun?"

He stared, unimpressed with her tanned skin, shining under the moonlight from the products she'd applied. Not surprising, his tastes were a bit more illegal than that.
"Not interested. Get on to that bar over there, there's plenty of miserable man looking for their last fuck before they die around here."
"Oh, come on!" She whined, waving her hands. "Been here all night, no work."

He pulled her so suddenly, an impressive feat for a man that old. His fingers dug on her arm, but she didn't show how much it hurt. He'd have to do better than that.
"Not my problem," his eyes slid down her body and he snickered "you're too old, bagra."

Pain ran from her head down to her jaw, and she unclenched it. The bastard used an endearing term for grandmothers as the vilest insult he could spill.

And if he wouldn't lay with her, at the young age of thirty, she could almost consider it a confession. A predator hiding among thieves, ruining lives for how long the Gods have allowed him. Well, no more freedom for this bastard.
She smirked.

"You like them young? Have two of my own, wanna pick?"
A glint in his eyes, another confession. He leaned in, after a look around.
"How much for both?"

A couple stumbled out the back of a bar, giggling and whispering around. The minute they bought her served its purpose allowing her to take a deep breath.

"Don't you wanna see them, first?"
She walked away from him and into the shadows, slow and steady steps echoing around the alley. He'd follow, a disgusting piece of shit like him wouldn't pass on the idea of getting some easy prey. To take a scumbag off the streets, sometimes you gotta dress up as one, Katara's favorite thing to say when the nausea hit her at the end of every mission.

When there was no more light from the streets, she stopped. Well-known energy flowed from her fingertips, tingling her spine and up, swirling around her neck. She turned.
"Where're the fucking kids?"
With his brows all the way up, he craned his neck in search.

The energy swirled faster around her fingertips as her three partners stepped out of the shadows, drawing a gasp from the man. He hissed.
"You fucking bitch."

"You talk to loud." Katara crossed her arms, a vacant expression on her face. The same one she'd wear when they're out buying bread.
Della grabbed the criminal and Bay kicked the back of his knees without any care, forcing him down on the floor. Jule smiled. When the four of them worked, a thousand prayers flew up to the pantheon and found Onza, their goddess.

Not even the man's scream could mute the sounds of justice, as she sank her heel on his thigh. And Phillip spent his nights ripping screams from others too, that lowlife was of no interest to him.

"Are you the one they call Luster?" As soon as he spitted on the ground near her leg, she applied pressure with the heel. He bit his own tongue in agony.

Bay rolled her brown eyes and stifled a yawn.
"If you talk, this will be much quicker. It's way past bedtime."
Jule moved her feet, threatening to dig the heel on some much more sensitive parts.

"Yes, yes! Yes, I am!"
"Oh, you are!" The feigned shock disappeared from her face as fast as it came. "Someone told us you've been messing around with what isn't yours."

The fool laughed, his pants soaking up with blood when he leaned forward. He had a missing tooth, and the desire to punch his remaining one raced fast down her veins, messing with her power.

"You talking about the girls?" He widened his eyes at her, a crazy spark taking over them. "They're my little angels."

Katara huffed in disgust and nodded at her. Jule forced a smile.
"Not quite yours, dear. In fact, this little gift is from them."

She smashed his head against her knee before he could even breathe in. Punch after punch, she let the blood that ran freely from his nose feed her rage. She stepped on his testicles and Katara touched her shoulder.
"Take his confession."

The guy struggled but Della sank her red nails on him, brown eyes nodding at Jule.
She touched his pulse with two fingers, feeling the beat of his memories through it. Inside his head, darkness took the helm, and Jule sat at a corner until she found Bellam, the eight year-old child that man had ruined. Lost in shock and disorientation, right behind Bellam, she found other two. And another on her way out.

The darkness tried to keep her as a pet, but her goddess guided her out of that fucked-up mind.
She inhaled as much air as she could, blinking a couple of times.

A warrior shed no tears during trials. She shared them with her friends, with her family, afterwards.

Jule caught the man's infuriated stare and held it.
"For the crimes of abusing children and ripping the chance of a fair and healthy life from their hands..."
He struggled once more, moving further as if to tackle her.
"You let me go right now, or I'll unleash every thief..."

"You're sentenced to lose function in both of your hands and be delivered to the guards to do your promised time. Onza sees all," Jule closed her eyes and raised a hand for her goddess "she's the mother and the goddess of women."

"She's the protector." Katara's voice cut through the noise of the thief trying to get free.
"She's the survivor." Bay's energy interlaced with the one from her partners.
"She's the punisher." Della joined, at last, concluding the ritual.

The man stopped, as if time had frozen his build to the floor. Jule watched, energy still vibrating at the tip of her fingers. Recognition painted the lines on his face. A myth, they were, to some. The pantheon had bigger Gods, and Liberians prayed to the same three every time.

Women usually forgot Onza, to call upon her when distressed. They forgot the four of them, Onza's warriors that performed her trials and gave a life back to victims.

But for as long as Jule breathed, she'd honor the life of a woman.

"You're the warriors, the felinae..."
"And you're the abuser." She grabbed her encrusted dagger, a gift from herself.

She severed the nerves in both the thief's hands, working through agonizing screams until he passed out. After every thing Bellam cried to her about, there's no pity in her heart for this man.
Della and Bay took every gold and every silver he carried. Bellam's new beginning at life.

They tied him up, careful with the hands, and dropped him at Widemill's guardpost. She turned but the scumbag's weak voice stopped her.
"Please... I can give you what your heart desires, you just have to ask. Let me go. Do you wish to earn your family's favor? Money? I can give you anything, just let me go!" An hysterical sob escaped his lips.

"Your debt is endless. You have to pay until you die."
He fell and crawled, disruptive sobs effectively alerting the guards.

Jule, Bay, Della and Katara watched from the shadows. Until the last second, they would not leave.

His words burned in her stomach. Every one in her life tried that with her. Mama and Papa had to ask, almost every day, what they had to do for her to do what they'd dreamed for her. They wished her away from the house and into her sister's beauty center. Their pride and attention had conditions.

And Justa didn't hide the superior glare, the calculated comments in front of Mama, causing chaos for her. But the brave glare she reserved for criminals had no space in Papa's home. Inside, she was an empty shell of the kid she'd been once.Not enough as a daughter. Not enough as a sister. Only as a warrior.

Della hugged her back and gave her a push. They walked home in silence, Onza's energy slowly drifting away, until no more tingling weighted on her fingers.

The small Jule that'd always wake up when she stepped inside Papa's house couldn't deal with judgement, not that night. It shrank her wildly, their stares. As if she's nothing. As if saving countless women wasn't enough to measure her own worth.