Madame Masque hadn't survived this long by being stupid. There was always a plan, an escape, a way to live in spite of what the world threw at her. She watched the car go up, too, and she wasn't inside. She was actually only feet behind Frank's crouched shadow with a knife in her hands. It was a valiant effort, she allowed him his moment to revel in the glory of taking down Big M. And then she crept up on him and pressed the blade of her knife to his neck, her free arm locking across his chest like a vice. Now it was her turn to gloat.
"Hey there, sweetheart," she purred near his ear, the metal of her mask chilly against the side of his face. "I think I know who you are, your reputation precedes you. You've been a huge pain in the ass for my people while I've been gone. I think we should discuss it, don't you?" The sharp edge of the blade dug into his throat, drawing a thin line of blood