Welcome!

[Steven Cain]

Most thieves committed small burglaries on their own. Tiny acts of petty theft were alright to do on one's one. Larger heists, however, often required a partner, or even a team of individuals with various illegal skills. Few thieves would ever try to knock over a bank as a solo job.

Nightstorm, however, was about to do just this.

He'd cased the joint earlier, asked about opening an account, and got the full tour to be assured that his deposit would be safe. They'd shown him the location of the vault, shaken his hand, and thanks him for choosing to bank with them. He'd left, picked him daughter up from school, made her macaroni and cheese, tucked her in, then took the C-train down to Jackson Square. Two block south and one block west lay the bank, which was closed and locked for the night, its windows dark. He'd picked it for its location, which was fairly quiet by this time of night, when all the shops closed and the shopkeepers were fast asleep. He'd be in and out. Quick, clean, and simple.

The ventilation had been his entry route. He'd been able to knock out surveillance systems and alarms with small electrical pulses as he came across them, before they had a chance to register his presence. He slid down into the interior of the bank from a dented air conditioning shaft, removed the final security systems at the main desk, then crept over to where the vault lay.

The thing had a beast of a door – all re-enforced steel, a foot thick. A number of small electrical scanners a punch-pad served as the thing's key. Smirking, he stuck a finger into each device, closed his eyes, and released an electrical current. A shower of sparks poured through the air, followed by the smell of smoke. The punch-pad burst into colorful flame.

Grinning, he tried the door.

It stayed very firmly put.

"Damn," he muttered. Ok, maybe frying things indiscriminately wasn't fool-proof. It looked like time for plan B. "I really hope you're up to this," he muttered aloud, seemingly to himself. Then he drove a fist right into the door.

The metal buckled, dented, shrieked, then finally tore free, landing inside the vault with a violent crash. And there, in all its glorious splendor, was the money.

"Yes!" He raised his hands over his head in a victorious gesture, taking a moment to bask in his triumph –

– and nearly fell over backwards in shock when the alarms began to blare, accompanied by flashing lights. What?! No, he'd taken out the video cameras, and the motion detectors, and the alarms that would alert the police all the way down on 3rd Street. He'd taken out everything –

–except, he realized as the sprinklers activated and began to pour water down on him, for the fire alarm.

[Niall Donovan]

"Daddy." Liam stood in the doorway of Niall's bedroom, clutching a teddy bear close, watching as his father was pulling off his t-shirt. The man coughed, turning around to look at his son.

"What is it, Lil' Bear?" Niall made his way over to his son. scooping Liam up, sitting with him on the bed.

"Can I sleep in your bed tonight? With you?" Liam frowned, resting his head against his father's chest, letting the teddy bear rest between them.

"Of course, Liam. But just this once, okay? You've got to be a b--" There was a beeping coming from his watch that was sitting on the dresser. "Ugh." He set his son down on the bed, standing to snatch the watch up. Of course, he was on call. Niall was closest, Niall could get there faster. He looked back to his son, who looked more than disappointed. Niall strapped the watch on before sitting on the bed again. "Look, Liam, I promise that I'll be back soon."

"Promise? Because you said that last time would be the last time." Liam hugged his bear tightly, sighing.

"Hey," Niall hugged his son tightly, "Now Lil' Bear, I'm not making any promises. But, I won't get myself killed and I will be here in the mornin'." He scooped Liam up and pulled back the blankets, tucking his son in. "G'night Little Bear. " Niall gave his son a kiss on the forehead, turned off the lights and disappeared.

---

Maybe Shadow Wing wasn't the fastest (he did have to get that damn suit on, but did opt not to bring the bike tonight), but he got to the bank quickly, quicker than an of the fire officials. Niall appeared inside the bank, coughing a little. It seemed like a bad idea sure, what he had been told was that there was a fire, but what better way to stop a fire than get in the middle of it. There was no fire though, just what appeared to be a faulty. At least until he saw the bank vault that had been punched in.

"Jesus Christ." He touched door, shaking his head. He wasn't going to like this one bit. Anyone that could get a door to open like THAT...well, he could do a lot with Niall. Slowly, he made his way into the vault, seeing a little man in a little black armor suit. Niall pulled his gun, grinning.

"I should have expected you, Nightstorm. I mean, hey morons still get to pull heists." Wing shook his head, adjusting the hood of his cape. "Because the fact that you've already failed miserably...you might as well hand yourself over and save yourself the trouble. Look," he kicked over a stack of bills, "soggy. No one wants soggy bills." Niall fired a shot, grinning. "You don't really want to do this again, do you?"

[Steven Cain]

It was such a stupid mistake... he'd been so careful with everything else! Nightstorm stared at the pouring water, a few of the drops hissing and fizzing as they struck his highly charged armor. No no no nononono! Water cascaded off the pyramids of neatly-stacked bills, while others coated the floor in a soggy layer of paper. Useless! Even if he could get it out and dry it out elsewhere, wet money would be fare too heavy to carry across town. He ought to cut his losses and scarper now, before emergency services showed up. At least they wouldn't be expecting a break-in. Nobody would know he'd been there...

"I should have expected you, Nightstorm."

... Or maybe not. He hissed in a breath and spun around, facing the familiar voice. Shadow Wing. If he were a swearing type of man, he would have cursed a blue streak. It just had to figure, didn't it? His evening was going from bad to worse.

"...You've already failed miserably...you might as well hand yourself over and save yourself the trouble." Oh, that arrogant, cocky bastard! Nightstorm glared daggers through the darkened visor of his armor, picturing his fist going through Shadow Wing's insides just as it had gone through the door.

"Yeah, alright, sure. But you'll have to catch me first!" he hissed, diving behind a crate of carefully packaged money as Shadow Wing raised his weapon and fired. The bullet ricocheted in the vault with a deafening noise. If the police weren't coming before they probably would be now.

"You don't really want to do this again, do you?"

Nightstorm could picture the smirk on Shadow Wing's face without even looking. He fumed. Hadn't the man ever heard of 'excessive force'? Oh well... he'd asked for it. Buckling his legs under him, he felt tension coiling up within the suit, ready to spring. In a fluid movement, he kicked off with force disproportionate to his size, arcing gracefully in a back flip over the pile of money he'd just taken refuge behind, landing on his hands, then bringing his legs forward in a kick aimed right at his enemy's chest.

[Niall Donovan]

"Yeah, alright, sure. But you'll have to catch me first!"

Did that man in that suit little suit actually say that? What was this, Scooby Doo? Niall sighed rubbing his temples. "Give me five minutes and I'll get my bike and run you the fuck over." He muttered to himself. It wouldn't be the first arm her tried to sever with his bike. It wouldn't be the last time either, he was damn sure of that. Hell, he'd run over Nightstorm's legs if he could. That would keep him from making smart ass remarks like that.

"Come out, come out wherever you a--" Niall stopped for a moment as he saw Nightstorm coming at him. Everything went into slow motion, like a weird action movie. Before he knew it, had phased through the wall and slammed into a desk on the other side. There was a large crack. Somehow Niall had become tangible. It might have been for the best, actually, if could have flown outside of the building for all he knew. Nightstorm had a tough kick. He rubbed his chest, coughing loudly. "SHIT." Niall yelled loud enough. Someone might have thought that he had broken a bone. Ah-ha! That was it! "Son of BITCH! Jesus CHRIST!" Niall wasn't a drama queen, but he could turn it up to 11 need be. "Oh no...oh no..." He stood, letting out a cry of pain (fake of course). After a little moan, the cries stopped. Niall had disappeared.

Now where to come in. He sat in the shadows comfortably for a moment. If that douche bag in a super suit had a weakness, Niall wasn't aware of it. He was exposed, right? Oh yeah, in the jaw...Niall grinned, pulling out his gun.

Now, the shadows didn't like things fast, however, when their master was thinking about shooting someone in the mouth...even they would make an exception to the rule. Shadow Wing sprung down, from the ceiling, on top of Nightstorm, shoving the gun against the exposed flesh of his cheek. "You know, I can angle this right and take out your brain. So unless you want my hand to be covered in your brain matter, I suggest you give it up, little man."

This post has been edited by Niall Donovan on Sep 4 2008, 04:10 AM

[Steven Cain]

He felt a satisfying jolt as his feet caught Shadow Wing square in the chest, His opponent flew backward as Nightstorm finished his flip and landed in a crouch. The so-called 'hero' went through the wall. Completely through it, as a matter of fact, though this intangibility didn't last long, if the nasty splintering sound that came a moment later was any indication. Nightstorm took a moment to revel in this small victory, and found himself smiling as Shadow Wing let loose a series of words Abby would have labeled "potty language," along with a considerable amount of simpering whining.

Then the sounds faded, and he was left alone in the vault in about an inch or two of water, with the muffled noise of sirens approaching. His enemy had gone off to lick his wounds, no doubt. Time to book it out of there, and shift back in civilian dress.

A glance through the gaping hole that was the vault doorway confirmed that the bank was, for the moment, empty. There was a window he could smash through without much trouble that was practically adjacent to the alley he'd come in by. He started off for it, but then –

Something fell on him like a ton of bricks. Or a ton of superhero. The latter would probably be more accurate. He choked as something cold and metallic pressed against the exposed portion of his cheek. Oh no. Oh no no no...

"You know, I can angle this right and take out your brain. So unless you want my hand to be covered in your brain matter, I suggest you give it up, little man."

Nightstorm hated guns. Hated them. He could feel his heart pounding in his throat, and his chest tightening. Not a panic attack... not here, not now...

He wouldn't, would he? He had to be bluffing. It wasn't as if he'd exhibited deadly force – hell, Nightstorm was unarmed! And he was just a thief, not a killer. He wouldn't really kill him.

Would he?

"Y-you're bluffing," he whispered hoarsely, internally cursing his stutter.

[Niall Donovan]

This was satisfaction. Was Nightstorm quivering like a little baby? Someone was scared of having a gun to their head. Now, Niall was unable to kill Nightstorm for the position he was in. He'd love to shove the pistol in the man's mouth, but he was a hero after all. Most of the time anyway. The darkness was getting much more joy out of making Nightstorm nearly piss his pants than Niall ever would.

Niall grinned wickedly. He heard the sirens growing closer, but it didn't matter. If he had it his way, he would blow Nightstorm's head of off right before the police came. Deadly force, it was allowed, and damn if Niall didn't have a good enough lawyer to get him out of any situation he had managed to get himself into.

"I am?" He whispered, squeezing the trigger lightly. "I do have th gun pressed against your cheek. How much do you know about anatomy, Nightstorm? Enough to know that I can fucking kill you, right? Surely, this isn't the first time I've threatened you like this before. Try to remember." Niall whispered, pulling Nightstorm off the ground. "I was just trying to take out your legs, then. But apparently, the only way to stop you is to kill you."

He slid the gun down Nightstorm's jawline, hearing the police bust into the bank. Took them long enough. "Move. I said, move, forward, go forward, and I wouldn't shoot you. They take you into custody, and you don't rob anymore banks. Got it?" Niall pull the gun away from a moment, grabbing Nightstorm's shoulder with his free hand. "Move."

[Steven Cain]

Nightstorm felt a slight twinge in his legs at the reminder of the time Shadow Wing had shattered his kneecap and put an iron pole through one of his legs. He'd spent the next week or so learning to appreciate the difficulties of commuting in a wheelchair, followed by a considerable amount of time on crutches.

Reason number five million and two for hating Shadow Wing.

"Move. I said, move, forward, go forward, and I wouldn't shoot you. They take you into custody, and you don't rob anymore banks. Got it?"

The gun slid away from his cheek, the skin feeling abnormally warm in the absence of the cold metal. It was amazing really... the distance from the gun to his brain appeared to have a direct correlation to his speed of thought. His brain, which had been seized with panic for the last few seconds, now flew into overdrive as Shadow Wing made a stupid mistake and lowered his weapon.

"Oh yeah." A faint, nervous giggle escaped from his lips. "I got it."

Shadow Wing put a hand on his shoulder. Water pattered down from the drenched ceiling, pooling at their feet. A perfect circuit. Grinning manically, Nightstorm let loose.

Electricity crackled and the air filled with the scent of ozone. He threw as much voltage back as he could, the force flinging his enemy across the room, the pulse shattering all the glass in the bank. He staggered forward, vaguely aware of blood dripping from his nose. "And now, I'm moving..." He staggered a few steps, then broke into a run towards the nearest paneless window...

[Niall Donovan]

Trust. Perhaps trust was another one of Niall's weaknesses. He followed the rules that Savior had. He bent them, but he followed them. In the back of his mind, he expected everyone else to follow the rules too. Knowing Nightstorm, who, gathering by the amount of injuries that Wing had inflicted on him (and the more than fair amount that Niall had gotten), he knew pretty well, Wing should not have expected him to play by the rules.

Of course not, because if they played by the rules, this wouldn't be happening. And Niall would have no one to stop from robbing a bank.

"I got it."

"Good." Niall was able to say before everything went to hell in a hand basket. It was right after he finished saying good that Niall went flying across the room, slamming into the back wall as the windows smashed. Thank god he didn't even have time to think about phasing through the wall...or well, he probably would have ended up hurt even worse by the steel lining of the walls that he was by the shattered glass that had fallen on him. And damn if there wasn't a lot of glass in his body. When Niall had smacked against the back wall, his hands automatically went over his eyes and face. It was a good thing too, he hand landed squarely under a window.

"And now, I'm moving..."

Niall opened his mouth, but was completely unable to speak. He let of a small whining noise, which accompanied by a sickening gurgling sound coming from the back of this throat. Niall's arms fell almost instantly, covered in glass, as was his torso. Several pieces of glass were wedged into his skin, in vital areas. Near his lungs, near his stomach, on his thighs. When his arms and hands hit the floor and the floor, driving the glass in deep. He watched as Nightstorm started to leave, eyes completely vacant. He was fading quickly.

Another broken promise to Liam. This is why Niall had to stop Nightstorm...but not now. Not while everything was getting dark, not while he was bleeding from every possible area on his body. He gurgled again, just as a few police officers entered the vault.

[Steven Cain]

As a high school student, Nightstorm hadn't ever been terribly good at anything. He was mediocre at academics, lousy with socializing, and all-out horrible at athletics of almost every kind–

– except running. Running, he had always been very, very good at. And it was a skill now being put to good use. Though he had a bit of a faulty start, he'd now managed to get his legs under him and was sprinting all-out. The adrenaline that fueled him deadened all his senses. He heard a few shots ring out as he somersaulted out the window, and felt the impact of the bullets against his armor like thick, dull punches. He kept running. Cops were lousy shots, as far as he was concerned – by the time any one of them lined up a decent enough shot to take advantage of one of the armor's weak spots, he'd be halfway across the Bridges.

He pelted down alleyways, turning and juking from side to side, then scrambled up a fire-escape to one of the shorter buildings, lying flat and still as one or two of the more tenacious officers ran by below. He'd just run – what – five blocks? He lay there on the metal grille work, panting for air and groaning at the pounding in his head, which was soon joined by a further chorus of aches and pains that panic and fear had previously drowned out. He looked down and cringed – steeling himself, he gritted his teeth and pulled a long sliver of glass out from between two of the armored plates on his leg. He hissed with pain – the last two inches of the glass were stained dark, and by the light of a passing car's headlights he saw crimson. Ow.

For a moment, his mind flashed back to Shadow Wing with a slight pang of guilt, which his rational mind summarily stamped out. The bastard had threatened to shoot him! Ok, maybe he should have held back a bit of voltage in case he make the sucker extra crispy, but that was just self-defense. Right?

The memory of cold steel against his cheek effectively erased any moral quandary he might have been contemplating. Tonight had been a stalemate. Nothing gained, but not much lost. Except for blood. And maybe a few brain cells...

He needed to recharge. His head throbbed and he could feel his nose continue to bleed, the coppery taste of blood dribbling down from his lips. His flesh prickled, and then there was a bizarre sensation, like a sneeze in reverse...

... and there where Nightstorm had been, lying on the fire escape, glasses askew, was Steven Cain. Who promptly got up, groaned, and began to head home...

[Niall Donovan]

There was a really good chance Niall was overreacting. Maybe it was the high amount of voltage, maybe it was the fact that there were large pieces of glass lodged in vital areas. He was overcome with the pain of the burns on his arm, and the glass that he had accidentally shoved deeper into his arms.

The main concern he had was Liam. Another broken promise to his son, and at what expense? Stopping some two-bit bank robber? Not matter who he was trying to stop, Shadow Wing always ended up getting himself hurt. He coughed up some blood, watching the police officers come towards him. Wing couldn't hear them, everything was sort of muffled. Maybe he was just blocking it out. He coughed again, wheezing.

God, he really needed to stop smoking.

He watched as a police officer reached out to him. "Don't." Wing sputtered, "Don't...Thank...you." With that, Wing disappeared, fading into the shadows.

---

Dr. Mackenzie Donovan was getting ready to leave for the night. File some files, write up and report. Sign off. Go home, after all his wife was waiting. Seeing as it had been a relatively quiet week (he had only seen Niall twice, and one time, he wasn't even hurt), Mac was looking forward to actually relaxing at home with his wife.

Well, he was until he saw the form his brother appear in his office, staggering, covered in glass.

"Jesus H. Christ." Mac said, catching his brother before he fell onto the ground. He ripped off Niall's cape, setting him on his desk, sending all of his papers, and his new MacBook crashing to the floor. Fantastic. "Just..." He watched Niall lay on the desk, procceding the knock everything else on his desk off, "...stay." Covered in blood, Mac ran and grabbed the nearest nurse. "I have Shadow Wing in my office. The only damage I can see is that his completely covered in glass from chest to thigh. Get me an operating table, or....a free room. Start pulling out the glass from his arms."

The nurse nodded running back to the office, grabbing another nurse. Both of them dragged Wing out and into a free room.

---

It took several hours, but finally, every piece of glass was out of Wing. No major arteries were hit, the glass has narrowly missed Wing's lung, stomach and his heart, despite going in very, very deeply. The burns, however, on Niall's right arm, were horrible. The arm was wrapped up to the bicep. He had been up all night, as soon as the glass was pulled out and the Vicoden was coursing through his veins. He had been watching the news all night about the foiled robbery. The words "Thanks to Shadow Wing" rang in his head. At least he was appreciated.

"Fucking Nightstorm." Niall said, looking over to Mac, who was frowning. He had changed into something that wasn't covered in blood.

"Did he burn your arm like that?" Mac asked, knowing the answer. "Or did you just fall into it?"

"Ha, fucking haha." Niall groaned, turning over. "Jesus Christ, I'm supposed to go to the park with the support group tomorrow with Liam."

"Today, you mean." Mac said, and with that, Niall got out of the bed, staggering a bit.

"God, I have to get home before Liam wakes up." he didn't even allow Mac to protest, with a bit of a whine, Niall waved sinking into the ground.

---

He was home within seconds. Niall pulled off his hospital gown (he had Mac trash the old suit, it was beyond repair now) and pulled on a pair of boxers before hopping into bed with his son. Liam, who was asleep, cuddled up to the warmth of his father. Niall, with his good arm, pulling his son onto his chest and pulled the blankets over both of them. "Alright, boy-o," Niall whispered, wincing a little, "Try not to hurt my arm." Everything else with nothing compared to the pain of his arm. When the Vicoden wore off, that's when he had to worry. That little support group in the park was not going to be fun in the morning.

This post has been edited by Niall Donovan on Sep 22 2008, 07:53 PM