The night was dark, although it usually is, but Alex had a feeling this would be a particularly long one. How, you ask? It could have been his senses, so finely tuned to his night job he could practically sense evil from miles away, or it could have been the small police radio sitting on the dashboard of his small car. Rubbing his forefingers along the bridge of his nose, he thought to himself "this is gonna be a long night". He groaned.
The city was framed against the night; the plethora of colored light put the stars to shame, this was Alex's favorite time of night where the air should be full of the scent of moon flowers from the nearby, Sadly the air smelled of gunpowder and smoke. A dark silhouette stood, balanced, waiting.
A small group of men emerged from the bank already drunk on the feeling of money in the sacks they carried. Each man was dressed in the stereotypical black and white striped shirts, black trousers and balaclavas of a bank robber. This is because this is what these men were, each laughing over the escapades of the evening, completely unaware of the fate that awaited them.
As one man stowed away his gun to take a swig of a flask he was carrying, a figure dropped down behind them with the kind of swoosh you'd expect from a scene like this. A quick elbow to the jaw was enough to knock him unconscious. The thud caught the other criminals attention. Swiveling round they see a cloaked figure standing there, wearing a large brimmed hat with a single purple feather in the ribbon. An elaborate theater mask hid his face, but the bank robbers could clearly see his purple eyes.
Recognition hit them faster than a freight train of a cliff; they turned to run. A card flew past them and hit the side of the truck they ran for. Before the leader could blink, the figure was in front of him, already digging his fist into his stomach, winding him instantly.
One brave idiot ran up to the figure and buried a knife in his gut, only to receive a knee and an elbow to his wrist, breaking it instantly. He stepped back in pain, and the last thing he saw was a boot heading towards his face- the last thing he heard was the crunch of his nose.
Alex walked away from the unconscious bodies of the four failed bank robbers, holding his hand over his bleeding stomach. "Ah damn, I have to walk all the way there." he thought, "cant take the high road now, damn fucker". A black and purple mist briefly covered Alex as his costume "unequipped" as he called it.
YOU ARE READING
Thatberg Profiles
Fantasyi know its not the best title, but its the first time I've written anything so i couldn't think of a better name
