Some time later, in the city of Paragon Heights…
One-by-one, yet faster than the eye could see, the incoming bullets from the bank robber’s submachine guns were cleaved in twain by the frantic-yet-precise motions of Chivalrous’s longsword. The sparks from each bullet impact reflected off of the knightly superhero’s gleaming silver armor, save for a lucky shot that managed to glance off of the blue symbol in the center of her chest plate, featuring a sword planted down behind a shield. Her voluminous blue cape swirled around her as she slid back a half-step, and her teeth grit behind a blue-visored silver helmet while her grip on her rounded shield tightened. “In the name of justice and virtue—” She said, rearing back with her shield hand, before whipping the weapon across the lobby of the bank towards her two assailants. “—I vanquish thee!”
The shield bounced off of the chest of the first man, and into the ribs of the second, before spinning across the room back towards Chivalrous’s waiting hand, colliding with her armored mitt at the same moment the two men hit the ground.
The third man, who had been standing in triangle formation behind his two friends as they guarded the lobby and the assorted cowering hostages, looked down at his fallen friends, then down to his weapon as it clicked empty. “Forget this!” He shouted, throwing the weapon in Chivalrous’s direction before speeding towards a nearby back door, throwing it open in a panic.
Leaning in the doorway, a well-muscled red-haired woman in tight pants, a flimsy red domino mask, and a red tank top with an emblem of a golden fist stood checking her nails, before glancing up with a lopsided grin. “Sup?”
Moments later, the man was flying through the air, hitting the ground before coming to a sliding stop against a bank counter. Stumbling to standing, he pulled out a knife as the newcomer stalked forcefully in his direction, and took a wild swing at her head.
Dodging out of the way effortlessly with a backwards lean, the woman then caught the man’s wrist, wrenched it enough to send the knife clattering to the bank’s floor, and then turned his hand around before playfully smacking him in the face with it. “Why’re you hitting yourself? Why’re you hitting yourself~?”
“Roughhouse, that’s enough.” Chivalrous said with a sigh, coming to a stop next to her two fallen opponents, stabbing her blade down through both of their weapons to render them useless. “Behavior like that is unvirtuous.”
“I’m not called Soft Touch for a reason.” Roughhouse responded cheekily, even as the sound of running footsteps came from around the next corner, where the hallway lead towards the vault. Gripping the man’s wrist tighter, she closed one eye, lined up her throw, and kicked the man’s feet out from under him before sending him sliding across the bank’s floor on his back. He collided with his friends just as they turned the corner from the vault, and they all promptly tumbled to the ground like a set of bowling pins.
“Ten points!” Roughhouse called out with a triumphant pump of her fist, only for the crack of a fresh gunshot to give her pause. Roughhouse winced backwards as the bullet from an unseen man near the door sped towards her face, before slowing, and then stopping, just inches away from her forehead.
The shooter looked at this seeming miracle in astonishment, just before his pistol was wrenched from his grasp, floating up over his head.
“You should be more careful.” Psychotrope droned emotionlessly, her eyes glowing as white as her hair as she floated down from where she’d been covering the superhero pair from the bank’s skylight, her uniform an all-concealing white unitard with purple accents that hearkened back to her deprivation tank origins in the MK-Omega project.
The now-pistol-less bank robber made a few short, pathetic hops in order to retrieve his weapon as it hovered just out of reach, before it abruptly jerked down to pistol-whip him across the face, sending him crumpling to the ground. The back of his jacket was then hefted up by an invisible hand, as he was thrown into the existing pile of criminals who had only just started to gather themselves together. Chivalrous promptly added her two to the pile as well, leaving the six men in a groaning pile without any riches to show for it.
“Nice work, zombie. Though I could’ve dodged that if I’d really wanted to.” Roughhouse said, sticking her hands into her pockets as she wandered over to where the other two were standing over the men, prepared to watch over the pile until the police arrived.
“I very much doubt that.” Psychotrope responded, her hands and fingers flexing in front of her as she telekinetically removed a nearby red furred rope meant for creating bank lines, and used it to tie the men up. “And do not call me a zombie.”
“Whatever you say, zombie~.”
“Hold fast, you two. A trial yet awaits.” Chivalrous said, moving up between the bickering teammates as a low, repetitive thudding sound echoed from further within the bank. Slowly, a hulking, grey-skinned figure revealed itself as it emerged from the depths of the vault, laden down with all manner of ill-gotten riches as if he had laid down and rolled around in them. The man, twice as tall and wide as any of the women, came to a stop, looking over his fallen comrades, before finally alighting on the superheroine team before him. He grinned, his teeth as grey and blocky as the rest of him, and dropped his bags to the ground, before gathering his wide hands into meaty fists.
“Oh goody, Grayscale. And here I thought this was going to be boring.” Roughhouse said, cracking the knuckles of one hand with the other as she came to stand on Chivalrous’s flank.
“Only you would be worried about something like that.” Psychotrope droned, her hair forming a telekinetic halo around her head as she took to the air once more.
“To arms, ladies! Formation Delta!” Chivalrous said, determinedly pointing her gleaming blade in their opponent’s direction.
With a roar, Grayscale charged. Chivalrous threw her shield in his direction, Psychotrope caught and steadied it in her telekinetic grip, and Roughhouse landed on top of it in a crouch. As both figures hurled towards one another at speed, they reared back their fists.
----
A deafening crack blew out several of the bank’s windows, and Circe nearly jumped in her seat from where she sat at a café across the street from the bank. In the midst of a horde of either gawking or fleeing civilians, she was keeping careful watch over the situation, ostensibly sipping at the coffee in her hand while in truth gorging herself on the possibilities before her. Corrupting such courageous, heroic souls… Oh yes, that would be quite a treat~.
As the battle in the bank raged on, Circe sipped her drink, and plotted.
Tue Jan 11 04:46:55 2022
4 comments Last updated: Tue Jan 11 06:43:01 2022