On the roof of a building, someone in smart clothes lay casually on the ground, head angled up to the sky. They might have been male, but it wasn't clear.
Although... despite looking straight into the sun, this person made no attempt to shield their vision.
The porcelain white mask covering their face from view made this unnecessary.
Of course, it didn't need to be said that on the mask, there were two narrowed black circles where the eyes were supposed to be, and below that, in a similar manner, a perpetual smile that was just barely curved upwards.
Cartoonish and artificial.
That was the best way to put it.
Although, that was by design.
And interestingly enough, vibrant blond hair sprayed out over the curvature of the disguise, and as such, the almost golden strands swayed slightly in the breeze of the completely unremarkable sunlit day.
Then there was the person's outfit, which was perhaps even more bizarre.
A white shirt peeked out from the inside of a formal black coat that was left unbuttoned. Then, a dark gold tie hung loosely around the neck, where arms—and by extension black gloves—were crossed behind a head in an almost lazy fashion. Trailing even further downwards were black trousers, where legs were almost casually crossed one over the other as they rested above the coat's tail.
Now, this manner of dress would have no doubt aroused many questions among those who saw it, but as it happened, this person was alone.
Though, how long that solitude lasted still remained to be seen.
For now, however, it was in their best interests for no one to know where they were.
An arm chose that moment to move, and yet it was only to bring a surprisingly ornate watch in front of that masked face.
Slowly, the miniature clock's hands dutifully marked the seconds ticking away, and with each one, that person began to count.
Approximately five second later---
Loud and startling, but at the same time woefully expected, a blaring noise suddenly screamed from below.
It sounded like an emergency alarm.
And as if such a thought was correct, below, sounds of commotion could be heard.
"So predictable..." a soft and suspiciously young voice murmured. And yet at the same time, just like what the words implied, there was a subtle disinterest there that didn't seem to match up with the situation in the slightest.
Still, that person sprung to their feet.
After all, that alarm had just alerted the nearest police station that a crime was occurring.
It would take them five minutes to arrive, meaning those below had a little less than that to pull off what they came here to do and make a clean getaway.
However, then there was this person, who had absolutely no intention of allowing that.
Sturdy boots thudded their way towards the nearby skylight.
The Downtown Municipal Bank was around twelve-thousand square feet, scaling at six stories, with four exits, not including the windows which numbered at forty-eight.
The information flowed easily enough.
Crouching low to the ground, the masked face tilted as it peered through the skylight, gazing at the situation that was currently developing below.
The initial scenery was startlingly old-fashioned for a bank in modern day: a wide white marble floor, pillars rooted in four separate corners, and numerous desks and chairs for the various employees that worked there.
Of course, that said nothing of the group of people forced to sit in the center of the room, guns trained on them from all angles. Although, even more the outlier was perhaps those who were pointing the guns.
Men, with black ski masks aplenty, were quite obviously looking at their captives restlessly, getting more impatient by the second as the alarm continued to howl in the background.
Five gunmen. Fifteen hostages.
A hum escaped that mask.
It wasn't expected for their to be so many hostages. Still, the situation was within expectation. Additional variables would just require additional solutions. And yet, it was amidst such musing that movement caught one of those void-like, eerily narrow eyes.
One of the gunmen broke away from the group, disappearing around a corner.
That person's gaze lingered on this for only a second before looking back towards the center of the room, where the hostages sat rigid on the floor, not making a peep. Most of them looked deathly pale, flinching and ducking each time the steely barrels pointed their way.
Technically, a gun was just a tool.
It held no malice of its own.
People were taught not to blur this distinction.
However, that left nothing to be said of the fact that humans were thinking creatures.
A gun might be a mere contraption with a firing mechanism, but it still caused death, more so than any other weapon. This wasn't so easily forgotten, especially with one pointed directly at you.
The body would freeze up, the brain would fail completely, and any and all rationality was as fleeting as the thought that self-preservation was even remotely possible. That numbing feeling, an immutable paralysis that humans couldn't so easily force down as inconsequential, gave someone absolute reign if used correctly.
That person, of course, was talking about fear.
If fear was the goal, guns were by far the easiest method to achieve it.
Silently, gloved hands opened the skylight window, just wide enough for someone to put their body through. And, there should have been no way of feeling this, but that fear—in its rawest form—crashed upward like a wave.
It was present in the hostages as they convinced themselves they were going to die.
But it was also present in the robbers who were thinking in the back of their minds that they could be caught at any second, by the police on their way, or even the shadows that could hold threats unseen.
Suddenly and without warning, the smile on that mask suddenly looked different, even if absolutely nothing changed. It looked colder, crueler even.
Turnabout's only fair, right?
Wordlessly, and now with a smile of his own tugging at his lips, the boy vaulted over the ledge.
…
…
…
Emma did as they asked and kept her head down, trying not to make a sound.
The twenty-two-year-old brunette had come to the bank for a simple withdrawal.
Her mother was in town, and she wanted to take her out for a nice lunch. The woman certainly deserved it, after raising her by herself. That couldn't have been easy, especially with how quickly their father had retreated from their lives.
Yes; all Emma wanted was to do something nice for her mother.
So why.
Why did this have to happen...?
Tears of frustration began to pool at the corners of her vision, and Emma desperately tried to wipe them away before her captors could see. One of the other women however, one who was noticeably trembling, was not so lucky as a loud sob escaped her.
It was like a switch had been flipped.
All the gunmen zeroed on her in an instant.
"Did I, or did I not tell all of you to shut the fuck up...?!" Accompanying that bellow from one of them, was a deluge of gunfire, shooting a violent arc above all their heads. The bullets passed over them, and everyone who was crouched together on the ground ducked their heads in a frenzy.
Having never shot a gun in her life, or even been next to one as it fired, Emma was woefully unprepared for the bombardment of sound that echoed through the building.
It throttled her ears, but that wasn't even close to as horrifying as the clamor of screams that followed, almost unheard over the bullets puncturing the various computers and desks behind them.
Emma had never felt so terrified.
Eyes having clamped shut, she hesitantly opened one of them, revealing that same robber, one wearing a grey parka. He lowered his gun with a gleam in his eye and a pleased smirk. She was able to see that clearly even with the black fabric hiding the rest of his face.
People decided to steal for a number of reasons.
But more often than not it was because of necessity.
They were lacking and figured taking from others would be the safest and easiest method to gain what they otherwise could not.
But Emma could tell that reasoning did not apply to this man.
He was enjoying this, and it absolutely disgusted her.
Luckily, no one had died.
Although, she didn't know how long that would last.
"Wheeler, do your thing. Be quick, we're on the clock."
The man with the parka spoke up, flagging a man who was behind them.
Upon receiving his instructions, this person broke into a jog farther into the building, disappearing around a corner where she knew, after frequenting the place for so long, the bank's vault resided.
It wasn't hard to imagine what one of them would be doing while everyone else was watching the hostages.
Emma wasn't sure how they planned to get into the vault, but no one would be stupid enough to plan a heist without having a method to actually pull it off.
She had been watching this all carefully while her head was angled downward, not daring to do any more than that.
It was at that moment however, the woman beside her suddenly flinched.
Reflexively, Emma turned her head and found the expression on her face to be equally hopeful and frightened.
No, it was leaning towards the latter.
Curious, she followed the gaze and landed on a, not quite middle-aged man, but pushing it. This man was sweating profusely as he glared at the floor for a reason she couldn't discern. What was he doing?
She was so confused by this, that she broke her self-imposed rule of keeping her head down. Naturally the woman next to her was the same. In fact, one by one, each of the terrified people who shared in their damning circumstances started to eye the man.
He was wearing a flannel shirt, one that looked about one size too large for him. However, it did a perfect job hiding his hands as he was currently fishing around near his waist. A flash of light twinkled as the hem of the man's shirt rosed ever so slightly.
Emma's eyes widened.
There, along his hip, was a police badge. But that didn't startle her nearly as much as the gun tucked into the man's waistband.
Emma cursed herself for what she did next.
She gasped.
Loudly.
The man, an off-duty cop, spun his bloodshot eyes to face her, a look of disbelief on his face.
The armed and dangerous robbers would have been fools not to look their way.
"Tch! Do I need to start killing people to get you fuckers to shut—" 'Parka' had clicked his tongue audibly, looking irritated, but stopped dead in his tracks as he made eye contact with the cop. Then, the robber's eyes trailed downward as she knew he would.
The eyes in the mask bulged.
Emma didn't think; she screamed.
Was the scream to deter the police officer from drawing his weapon and risk getting shot? Or maybe it was a desperate plea for the man in the parka not to pull out his own gun, which he was already doing. Even Emma didn't know the answer to that. What she did know was that time seemed to slow down.
A man would be killed right in front of her, and it would be her fault.
He had been trying to do his job even in a terrifying situation like this, and she had condemned him to death.
Emma's lips uncontrollably trembled. Please no... She shook her head frantically, as if denying the reality about to take place. This can't... However, even if she rejected it, the situation would not change.
Was there really nothing she could do?
Desperate, she prayed.
She prayed to a god she had not once believed in. She wasn't naïve enough to believe she would be heard. Heroes were not real. One would not show up and save the day just because people wished it so. This was reality. Cruel things happened to good people every day and there was no reason why this was any different.
Emma closed her eyes tight, unwilling to witness what was about to happen.
But, in doing so...
She completely missed what happened next.
A scream caught in her ears, one that sounded so loud and frightened that she had to believe someone had just died. And yet, she did not hear that unforgettable hellish sound.
There was no gunshot.
There was something else though; an extremely unusual sound of something snapping into place, like how a measuring tape would loudly ring out.
Confused, Emma's eyes cracked open, and she was just in time to see something that should have been an impossibility.
One of the robbers flew into the air at overwhelming speed.
Emma's brain stalled.
What?
It was only belatedly she realized the robber had not flown but was rather yanked upward. A long sleek black wire had securely fastened itself to his foot, pulling him to the vast ceiling above them; the sounds of his wails echoing all the while.
And it was hard to see, courtesy of the scant light up there, but Emma watched as the robber's form stretched up all the way to the full height of the ceiling, until he vanished into the darkness of rafters and pipes. The very last thing she heard was the sound of a single ominous impact, before the screaming stopped instantaneously.
For a moment, no one moved, and Emma was made acutely aware of just how dry her throat was.
But suddenly her breath involuntarily hitched as movement caught her eye.
Up above, something began to fall.
No, not something, someone.
A black blur shot down in the same place as the person who was just taken, and to Emma's utter astoundment, a man in a mask—though dressed differently than the other robbers—landed on the ground in a crouch without so much as a sound, as if he had simply levitated downwards.
And Emma just continued to gawk, heart beating out of her chest.
What else could she do?
Someone had just descended a good fifty feet without any of the backlash gravity should have afforded. His legs certainly didn't look broken, a fact that was proven beyond a doubt as he rose to full height.
It was then she noticed the black pulley held aloft in a gloved hand, the incredibly thin wire that had pulled the robber upwards. But there was also another matter.
A... suit and tie?
Strange didn't even begin to cover this man's appearance, as the extravagant suit with a touch casualness, messy blond hair, and the mask's faint smile proved to be too much for her, causing her to let out a soft mewl of surprise.
But that was all the respite Emma was allowed, as things began to play out as she feared.
Despite the disappearance of one, there were still three men with guns, and they leveled them at the oddly-dressed man almost instantly.
It was why it was somewhat strange when that person didn't so much as flinch.
He just continued to stand there, revealing nothing behind that strange mask of his.
If he was frightened by the predicament he was in, it was impossible to tell.
"Who the f..." Parka began to ask a question they were all wondering, voice rising in rage, but he was silenced as the man started to move, and Parka's body naturally tensed. It was a wonder by the robber didn't fire immediately, but after witnessing what this mysterious person had just done, even Emma could understand the need to be cautious.
However, the action the masked man performed was incredibly simple.
His arm—the one that wasn't holding onto the black wire—was brought in front for all to see.
A watch peered at them.
"Three seconds."
With a tilt to his head, a smooth voice came out, one that Emma dared even think was young. Although how young she did not know. Nonetheless, she didn't focus on this nearly as much as the way he said it.
It sounded voice casual, uninhibited. Maybe even easy going.
It definitely wasn't the tone of voice used for the situation he was currently in.
'Parka' must have been feeling the same, because from what little she could see from his ski mask, he looked stunned. Of course, Emma wasn't any different. She was just as lost, having no idea what the mysterious blond meant.
The robber's mouth moved, perhaps to voice this curiosity, or even to give the order for his accomplices to shoot.
However, before Parka could do so much as utter a word, something else happened first, something that seemed to occur precisely three seconds after the oddly dressed man had spoken. If Emma hadn't been watching everything from the side, she would have scarcely believed it.
"Ghrrhghg!"
The man in the parka broke into a strangled scream as the recognizable form of the robber who had been sent skyward suddenly dropped on him from above.
The weight of a grown man in free-fall sent him slamming into the marble floor, and with that, there was no other sign of movement, nor was a single sound uttered.
In fact, such silence was shared amongst all those watching.
Emma wasn't certain what kind of expression she was wearing as she slowly tore her eyes away from the crumbled forms of the two gunmen, landing on 'Mask', but as she gulped, she came to realize her mouth had fallen open at one point.
She had no idea what was going on anymore.
The wire suddenly released itself from the limb it had attached to, whipping back towards its owner with a resounding SNAP, somehow disappearing into the that person's coat with familiar ease.
"..."
It wasn't just Emma who was looking at him with incredulity.
And although she didn't know it, all the other hostages had momentarily forgotten their fear.
The remaining two gunmen, on the other hand, just stood there, dumbstruck, as if not having comprehended the fact they had just lost two of their outfit in close to as many seconds.
Although, unlike them, Mask didn't choose to stay still, suddenly starting to sway in place. The odd behavior confused Emma, but she understood a second later. One moment, he remained where he was, unmoving; the next, he was rushing towards one of the gunmen with ferocity.
Fast.
But even more than that, it was apparently woefully unexpected.
The singled-out gunman was so caught off guard by the sudden attack that he was late in bringing his gun up, which was evident by the way he didn't fire immediately. Even so, the barrel was still able to be raised while the distance between them still remained, causing Emma's stomach to drop with fear.
She expected the barrel to flash with muffled fire, and even Mask to be shot down right then and there. However, her premonition turned out to be unwarranted.
The gun never went off.
Where Mask's legs weren't fast enough, his wire was.
The black tether, which had to be some type of incredibly dense metal judging by how loudly it clacked and wrang out, latched onto the barrel of the gun, and with a single violent tug of those gloves, the gun flew out of the robber's hands.
The robber cried out something unintelligible; still, Mask didn't stop, the distance between the two of them shortening completely. Deprived of his weapon, the robber could only throw a sloppy punch towards the masked blond, but it was deftly sidestepped and then countered, Mask's own blow sent careening into the robber's stomach.
Emma shivered as she actually heard both the impact and cry of pain, one that was followed by the robber doubling over. She thought that would settle it, but the criminal suddenly performed an action that surprised her. From the lining of his fatigues, a slim black stick was pulled out.
She recognized it almost immediately, as the tip of it suddenly let out a brief amount of blue electricity.
A stun--?! Emma internally panicked, fearing for Mask's safety.
But the appearance of the stun baton new weapon was taken with no change from him whatsoever. The only thing Mask did was tilt his head just as he had done before, as if waiting for his opponent to make the first move.
But abruptly, his entire body twitched.
Emma was so surprised by this that she felt her own body stiffen unnaturally. Could... he possibly be afraid? The assumption sounded justifiable to her, as surely, he was just a man underneath that mask, despite the unbelievable things he had managed thus far. But. Emma had misunderstood, something she realized all too late.
With a sense of urgency she couldn't understand, Mask violently stabbed a gloved fist at the robber's unprotected throat causing him to choke horrifically, and the stun baton flew from his hands. Mask snatched it from the air and reversed the grip so his fingers held the handle. Then, he threw it.
Straight at her.
"--?!"
Emma didn't even have the time to cry out, nor close her eyes, as the black blur came soaring at her face. All she knew was her heart stopped, and without even realizing it, she started to brace for the pain her body knew it was about to receive.
However.
"U-Uh...?"
Imagine her surprise, when instead of feeling a blinding pain, all she felt was the slightest of breezes as the baton whistled over her head by a hair's breadth, missing her completely.
But, behind her, she heard a sickening THUNK, followed by a muted cry.
At first, Emma's brain failed to understand what had happened, but as she slowly and cautiously turned her head around, it all became clear. And her jaw dropped. Because the first thing she saw was a gun on the floor beside her. But... she was sure any possible gun had been thrown across the room, so she did not understand why it was next to her.
But her confusion vanished as she saw who lay beside it. It was the other gunmen; one she had momentarily forgotten about in favor of what was in front of her. And more to the point, he was not moving.
Emma's heart slowed, so much so that she could hear its loud rhythmic beat. Simultaneously, her mind raced. This man was trying to get behind me... she thought with no small amount of fear.
A shiver overtook her entire body, and Emma slumped even further into her seated position on the floor. Seconds passed like this, but even so, she turned her head to face forward once again, shaking as she did so.
It was to cast a disbelieving look at a certain person.
That masked person, somehow, as he was fighting, had kept that other robber in his periphery, reacting in an instant the moment she was in danger.
Not only that, but he also hit his target with illogical accuracy.
That kind of physical ability...
Emma couldn't even process it.
Her heart fluttered, and she didn't know if it was in awe, or fear.
Emma watched as Mask lowered his extended arm, and his gaze lingered on her for a single second before he regained his posture, beginning to round up all the firearms strewn about the floor. But, as he began to disassemble them, a fact she found herself very much distracted with, his voice suddenly came out, and many flinched, Emma included.
"So, any of you injured?" It was a simple question, and the curt way he asked it, as well as the fact that he didn't even look up from what he was doing, was anything but comforting. Yet, coming from the man who had just single-handedly saved their lives—Emma felt like she could live with it.
If she got out of this alive, she thought she could come to live with a lot of things.
"Um, no. I-I don't believe so." Despite cursing her stutter, Emma somehow forced the words out, speaking for everyone. She quickly glanced at them all. They still looked a bit jumpy, sure, but no one was harmed.
Her eyes trailed back towards him, and she found that he had moved all the unconscious men into one spot, the metal pieces of what used to be their guns piled up next to them. He had even taken off the disguises covering their faces, revealing a group of three completely unremarkable men, eyes closed.
These are the same people who put the fear of God into us, Emma thought, dazed.
Mask's slender arm rose, and he pointed at the entrance to the bank, his blond hair flicking slightly as he tilted the slightest grin of that masked face of his. "Straight out that door, the cops should be on their way. You're free to go."
Huh?
It took a while for Emma to realize what he had just said.
They were... free to go?
She had been honestly considering that she might die, a thought that even now caused her to shiver. But that hadn't happened. It was prevented, and there was only one reason for that.
However, before she could ask any questions or even say thank you, she realized the man had already moved further into the bank, apparently done with the conversation.
Panic welled up inside her.
She did not know where it came from. But she had a distinct feeling if she lost sight of this person, she would likely never see him again.
"P-Please wait...!" Somehow Emma moved, taking a single step forward. Her voice was as small as could be, still hoarse from screaming and all round frayed with nerves.
She expected to be ignored, but that wasn't what happened.
Mask stopped in place, and he just barely turned his head towards her, revealing only a portion of that upturned red grin. Her heart beat faster at the indication and she swallowed: both her indecision, as well as the dry spell clamming her throat.
She could have asked a million different things, all of which had been spiraling around in her head the moment he had appeared, but only one question left her lips.
"Wh—Why did you help us?"
If nothing else, Emma wanted to know that.
Not who he was.
Not how he had gotten here.
She wanted to know for what reason she was lucky enough to be saved.
Emma belatedly noticed that none of the other hostages had left yet, despite the assurance that the police were close to arriving. Actually, she was starting to hear sirens outside the building and even the sudden sounds of tires squealing against the roadside. These noises clashed with the bank's alarm that continued to howl distinctively.
But Emma ignored all of this.
She only focused on hearing the answer. And she wanted it more than anything, anything at all. In a way, it was selfish. She wanted closure beyond the fact that her life was no longer in any danger.
"...Why?" he finally said, parroting the question back to her. The word was stretched, and it was so faint and softly spoken, that she barely heard it at all. And the man stood there in such a silence, seemingly just as caught off guard as the feelings within Emma that prompted she ask it in the first place.
Or at least, she had thought so.
Suddenly, an odd sound escaped him, and she only realized after a moment that it was a chuckle. Also, she got the distinctest impression he was smiling.
"Good question. If I was a hero, I'm sure I would have had an answer."
Emma's brow quirked in confusion, but before she could delve even further on what that meant, an immensely loud sound tore through the building.
It came from behind, as the two thick metal doors making up the entrance to the bank slammed open, and without delay, blue uniforms streamed in like a flood. Emma nearly jumped up in fright, her head whipping backwards simultaneously, however, she relaxed in seeing the letters affixed to their matching ensemble.
Ah, the police.
"Citizens, this way, everyone else, clear the building!" one of them said in a clear and commanding voice.
She was about to let all the tension that had been steadily building up inside her leave her shoulders all at once, but her brain suddenly halted.
Wait, if they see him, they might think he's—!
Spurned by sudden fear for Mask who would be in clear view of the authorities, she hastily spun around, already trying to open her mouth—
In doing so, however, she froze.
There was no one there.