Dear reader, although we are not yet finished with Bella’s day, we now turn our attentions back to Hailey Juniper Penze and her tribulation of an evening. But our night does not begin with Eldritch, rather with a certain young lady at a certain shooting gallery in the basement of the police station.

*BAM*

A father daughter combo stands in the shooting lane, the girl with her hands wrapped around a police issue pistol aimed down the range at a target that displays the silhouette of a man.

“Perfect honey. Now, I want you to remember to find a solid footing, exhale as you pull the trigger, and keep your body relaxed, aaaaannnnnd FIRE!” The words seem more for the speaker’s benefit as he issues them in a low tone inaudible to the shooter who sports a pair of earplugs.

*BAM*

“Okay, let’s see how you did.” He says, tapping her on the shoulder twice.

At this, the girl takes her earplugs out and glasses off and hits the button on the side of the shooting gallery that pulls the target in closer. The father also removes his earplugs, glasses, and then smiles down with pride at his child.

“Great shot Missy! You keep this up and by the end of the year I’ll have you running combat drills with the cadets.” He says with obvious excitement in his voice.

She smiles reflexively and visibly lights up, seeming to rise in stature. “Really? That would be awesome! Do you think I could run combat drills with the SAPS then?”

He frowns at this. “You’re nowhere near ready for that. Those are the best of the best. Maybe senior year if you keep making progress at this pace.”

“Deal.” She says as she sights down the barrel of her gun one last time. Then Missy points to the bullet holes on the target. “But hey, that’s three headshots and three in the heart! I think I’m ready for moving target drills now.”

Ruffling her hair, Detective Anderson replies, “Sure are; I’ll see about getting some clay pigeons for the weekend. We can head out of the city and do some survival training at the same time. If you hit all of them I’ll let you start training on an assault rifle, okay?”

“That sounds amazing!” Missy replies excitedly. Then her face falls slightly as she remembers something. “But Jake and I were going to go on a date this weekend.”

Her father’s expression darkens. “You know I don’t approve of that boy. But if you insist we could always bring him with. Then I wouldn’t have to buy any targets, we could just use him.” Detective Anderson finishes the last part with a contemplative look on his face.

“Dad no!” Missy exclaims in irritation. Then her tone becomes wheedling, “Please dad? We really, really need this. He’s taking me to Ferrous Man Four and then dinner, we won’t be out late or anything I swear.”

For a few moments, Detective Anderson’s steely visage darkens to the look that most criminals, and a few cops, in the city know and fear. Then his face clears, the detective is a family man at heart and cannot bear to cause his daughter pain.

With clear defeat in his tone, he acquiesces, “Fine, you can go on a date. But I will be waiting. If the clock is one minute past nine and you aren’t in the door I’m calling the kidnapping squad.”

Missy smiles, “You know that’s just a challenge for us to stand on the porch goodnight kissing at eight fifty-nine right?”

Detective Anderson’s eyes flare and he begins to chastise her, but is interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing. With frustration in his eyes he walks to a corner and raises the device to his ear, “What.” He asks in a flat tone.

The voice on the other end of the line is garbled, but Missy can tell from his darkening expression that it is not good news. His mouth sets into a hard line, after a few seconds he puts down the phone and pulls out another device. This one is nondescript and unfamiliar to Missy, but she has little time to wonder why her father has two phones as he manually begins to dial a number.

The phone rings three times before the person on the other end of the line picks up. Missy remains confusion at her father’s actions disappears the moment he begins to speak. “Eldritch.” He says in a low tone.

He pauses then begins to speak again, “It’s Tango. Forty-Fifth and Washington, a dance hall and workout center named Plate Pilates overlooking the river. Seems like he’s decided to rob the trophy wives while they stay in shape.”

Across the city, downtown in a mirrored room, a bevy of bodacious beauties sits astride cycling machines reacting to the acerbic tone of the fitness instructor.

“Yyyyyeeeeeessss laddiiiiiieeeessss! Work those thighs! Work em Sarah! Work em Mindy! Work em Molly!” Shouts a wicked looking man sitting on the leading cycle, at his urging the women begin to work harder and harder.

Slowly the frenzy of the cycles begins to overtake the room, the women working themselves into a frenzy as they pump the pedals of the immobile bicycles. As the frenzy builds, the man continues to speak, “GO! More! Harder! Work, work, work!”

With each punctuated syllable, the women fight for bursts of speed, sweat flies throughout the room. Underneath the sound of an up-tempo female power anthem by the latest chart topping girl group, Four Mix, the panting and groaning of the spin classes participants slowly increases in volume.

Then with a flourish of beats, the song comes to a crashing end and the women lean back, slowing their pace. At the front of the room, the flush face of the instructor breaks into a smile.

“Well done girls! I didn’t think your overweight behinds would be capable of kicking it into gear like that.” His tone retains some of its acidic quality, but now with a definite tint of happiness.

A few minutes of slower cycling later, the group session ends and the women begin to hop of the bikes with groans of agony. Huffing from the exertion the wilting flowers begin to file away towards the locker room. In a short time, these ladies will reappear looking as chic and perfect as the moment they waltzed into the studio. Such is the mysterious magic of the housewife, to make her charming aura and physical perfection appear effortless.

Yet today a disturbance rocks these careful preparations! As the women will soon discover, the choicest and gaudiest pieces of jewelry they own have disappeared during their work out!

Slumping into the women’s locker room, the women expect to find an empty room with its inviting showers and sauna. Yet such hopes are soon dashed!

Only the cackling laughter of Tango greets the callipygian women with a bold taunt. As he empties the last purse into his bag, Tango trills his triumph, “Oh you odalisques!”

Then Tango drops the last piece of glittering finery into his duffel. Tossing it to his henchmen, who looks decidedly uncomfortable being in the women’s locker room, he steps forth and bows deeply, so low his acrobatic form almost scrapes the floor.

Popping back up, he continues in a half singing voice, “How kind of you to provide the trappings of your lords, dear ladies! Rest assured my crew and I have a better use of these fine baubles than your pulchritudinous necks do! Ha-ha-ha!”

Then ducking towards the rear exit Tango and his gang of thugs, this time dressed as to the nines in frills and fineries reminiscent of a poor theater troupe’s excuse for a Victorian getup, move out of the room. Inside the women titter about, exhausted from the class and unable to muster the energy to give chase.

Confusion reigns in the locker room until a sound and sudden impact rocks the studio! Racing out the door to see what happened, a strange sight greets their eyes. A young girl stands at one end of the hall clad in a white cowl and bodysuit! The cowl extends down low, merging into a mask that obscures her face. Sleek black hair streams from the recesses of the hood, framing the mask.

At the other end of the hallway sits Tango, pushed back on his buttocks and with an expression of chagrin on his expressive face. His goons have all drawn various stage blades and stand ready to dance a deadly choreography about the heroine. But all pauses for a moment as one of the wives shouts, “Its Eldritch Maiden!”

Nodding, the girl floats forward and speaks in a confident tone, “Yep, that’s me, Eldritch Maiden. Want to give up before or after I upstage you and your troupe Tango?”

Snarling, Tango spits back, “Curse you! You foul witch!” Then his snarl contorts into a grin, “Normally I’d be calling intermission on this tangle for two Eldritch, but tonight I brought more than the tepid tin men I typically have tagging along. You see in front of you now the Jester’s Men of the Sphere Theater! These are the finest Victorian stage fighters in the city! Ha-ha-ha!”

With a shake of her head, Eldritch replies, “Oh Tango, what will they do when I go off-script with the fight choreography?”

Tango’s only reply is to shout, “Get her!” before he begins to scamper off towards a fire exit.

Eldritch can only watch him abscond as the first of the sword sporting duelists steps into the spotlight and begins to monologue. “I'll be your foil, Eldritch: in mine ignorance your skill shall, like a star i' the darkest night, stick fiery off indeed.”

At this, Hailey smiles and replies, “You mock me, sir.”

The preening actor pauses his preparations for a moment to smile, as does Eldritch who then continues, “I had to sit through that Hamlet movie, absolutely terrible! But the dialogue is pretty recognizable!”

The smile quickly turns to a frown and the actor leaps forth with his blade, signaling his compatriots to join. Eldritch parries with her dagger and drives forth past the blades of his companions to close the gap between the pair. The leader sweeps with rapier, trying to maintain a distance between the two as he backpedals.

The weaving blade forces Eldritch to back off for a moment, sending her in the direction of his pair of flunkies. They take the opportunity to strike simultaneously from each side. The leader’s smirk betrays his confidence, but more importantly, it cues Eldritch into the oncoming blows!

She twists at the last second, transforming her dagger into a short whip that flashes up and about the neck of one actor, dragging him across her body and throwing him into the other in a preternatural strike fueled by her magically enhanced spin.

Now down his supporting cast, the leader appears far less certain. The smirk drains from his face as Eldritch pauses to speak, “Come, for the third, Goon: you but dally; I pray you, pass with your best violence; I am afeard you make a wanton of me.” Her tone is light and playful. Almost to the point of mocking the words, but the steely gaze in her eyes is unnerving and bellies her seriousness.

Calming himself with a few slow breaths, the leader of the troupe finally finds his voice and replies in a wavering tone, “Say you so? come on!” He then dashes at Eldritch and sends a flurry of jabs at her. In between each thrust, he slides his feet forward, advancing inexorably. She gives ground, her whip transformed back into a dagger that can only parry the rain of blows.

A tense exchange passes between the two, as the women stare on. The sweat of the earlier exertions atop the spin bikes begins to freeze on their skin as the deadly atmosphere begins to settle. The only sound is the clash of steel and the occasional grunt between the combatants.

Flashing weapons play at one another, the foil finding itself dangerously close to Eldritch’s vulnerable form on more than one occasion. But her agile form continues to duck and weave throughout the fight, straining to close the gap and bring her dagger to bear on the enemy directly.

Finally, after one particularly close exchange that saw the corner of her cloak nicked, Eldritch leaps back. She then sighs and speaks, “Well this has been fun and all, but I suppose it’s time to end things.”

Her dagger transforms into a broadsword and she leaps forward reigniting the fray. This time, her weapon proves too powerful for the stage foil. It can scarcely manage one exchange before it flies out of the actor’s hand. He can only nurse his injured mitt in awe as Eldritch smiles down at him and says, “Good night sweet prince.” before clonking him on the head and leaving him knocked out with his fellows.

Sauntering out to the exit, Eldritch stares off into the night. She was unable to corner the wily Tango today, but someday she will! However, she reflects as she turns back to look at the room, she did manage to prevent him from escaping with his loot.

Suddenly, a thought seems to occur to her and she curses softly to herself as she pulls out her cellphone and types a quick text before racing off, to quickly for the stunned women or the rapidly arriving detective to grab her attention.

And so one day in the life comes to a close, dear reader! Join us next week as we conclude Bella’s day and our day in life series in… “An Evening in the Life of Bella!”