Meanwhile in another part of Remaeus Park a large SUV slid to a stop in front of the International Industrial Diamond Exchange. From the vehicle tumbled out several men in odd-looking military styled suits, they looked for all the world like characters from the video game Halo. Once their weapons appear the citizens around began to scramble for safety.

"Alright you maggots!" hollered the leader into his microphone, "Lets get those blue-light diamonds!" The other four nodded and rushed into the vast, warehouse like structure where industrial grade diamonds are traded every day.

As the men entered the building, the leader switched channels and reported back, "Unit 031 reporting, we have access to the building. We will have the diamonds needed to build the high energy blue lasers." After a moment of conversation, the Technocracy soldier entered after his men and began the ransacking of the valuable blue diamonds.

At the IDE the Technocrat soldiers began scanning the area as they watched the gathering police presence, so far they had not spotted any heroes but it didn’t matter they had the fire power to unload on ay goody-too shoes who might show up. Grimacing as the scan seemed to take forever to complete the leader turned and glanced out the tinted plate glass windows. Realizing he needed more time he spoke quickly into his chin-mic, a second latter two men began setting up a heavy electronic shielding mechanism near the front door. After they finished the two resumed their positions.

A second later the computer bleated twice, indicating the scan was complete. Looking at the data a quick smile crossed his lips, “Got it…Charlie and Bravo keep the LZ clear we’ll be coming in hot, the package has been located.” Spinning on his heels the man made his way to a vault and vanished inside.

Meanwhile at the power plant, the mysterious man with the Cheshire grin had dispatched the security guards, humming an odd tune he found what he was looking for, the main control center. Shredding the door with his claws he entered the room to the astonishment of the staff.
“Who…who are you?” demanded the shift supervisor.
“That is something you really or want to know.” purred the man as he motioned for the workers to gather in the corner.
“Hey you can’t…” The supervisor never finished his statement as a thrown coffee mug crashed against his skull with enough force to lift him off his feet, before he slumped to the ground leaving a bloody trail where he leaned against the wall.
“Anyone else?”
No one answered. With quick sure key strokes the man began shutting down the generators, knowing it would take roughly 15 minutes he flashed another grin to the remaining workers, “Just so you eggheads don’t get heroic…”with that he smashed the control panel with a fist sending sparks flashing as the control board flickered then died.

Hopping out the door the bulky figure made his way to the street and to a bus stop, as he waited for the bus he checked his watch. He would be boarding the bus just as the power outage would hit.

Deadeye and the Redcaps

There is a predatory aspect about the city, furtive and lurking just beyond the usual sight lines of the workaday world, but present and ruthlessly alert all the same. There is generally an order among predators with the strongest and most aggressive marking out their territory and the lesser and weaker taking advantage of what opportunities may arise along the periphery of the hunting and killing done by others. So it is in Roleplay City - the incidents in Juarez Park and at the International Diamond Exchange are sure to occupy heroes, police and likely even villains in great numbers. And with the attention of the city fixed on the struggle of its defenders to stop an aggressive and obvious act of predation, an opportunity is created for those others long confined to the shadows to step forward and seize what lies close to hand. In some cases such a stepping forth is the product of plans suddenly arriving at a point of opportune realization, in others, however, the majority in fact, it is more a matter of sheer spontaneity – an act of crudely asserted violence and thoughtless grasping. What takes place near the south quad of Roleplay City University is a bit of both.

The Redcaps, a small time gang of street toughs known as much for their violence as their distinctive red hats, had been talking among themselves for some time about what an easy hit the RPCU Credit Union would be. With so many police and emergency units sure to be occupied elsewhere and dealing with things that would also attract the attention of the city's active heroes, there could not possibly be a better time – and so, a plan not fully developed is hastily put into action. They arrive in two cars, red early model four-door sedans, four to a car. The drivers remain behind in the cars with engines running. Two take up positions near the entrance of the Credit Union and the other four enter. The lone security guard is shot straightaway and everyone inside is suddenly very cooperative, just like they planned. The screams that followed upon the burst of gunfire mute the sound of the approaching motorcycle. It takes a few tense minutes to fill the satchels with cash and bonds, but all told things could not be going more smoothly. It is not until José comes crashing through the plate glass window that there would seem to be any danger to the success of the operation.

“What the….!”

“José! It’s José, dawg, and he ain’t movin’!”

“Tyrone, see what the hell’s going on out there.”

“You crazy, man, I ain’t goin’ near that door.”

“Miguel, José’s bleedin’ pretty bad. We gotta do somethin’.”

“Nick, you go with Tyrone and see what’s goin’ on out there. The rest of you don’t be getting’ any ideas. Just stay down on that floor.”

“Miguel, man, I don’t see nobody. Wait! I see a guy. Some dude all done up in black and he’s throwin’ somethin’ toward that hole in the window. Tyrone! Look out man! Tyrone!”

“Damn! That’s a knife, man! Hurts! Get the damn thing outta my arm! Somebody do som…..”

“Dodged my damn bullets! What’s up with that?”

“Tyrone’s down, dawg! That dude’s crazy. Knives! That ain’t right!”

“Get the hell away from there, Nick!”

“My leg! Got my leg!”

“You! Lady! Get up! You’re dead if you can’t show us another way outta this rat hole.”

As the battle raged around, the police vastly out gunned by the Technocracy soldiers with their plasma rifles and their body armor. Even as the news crews filmed from a few blocks away and the news helicopters roared, overhead both police and news, trying to capture the deadly fight taking place below them.

Flying over the gun battle, a news crew for Action 18 whirled and then hovers to capture General Freedom on the roof of a building. The signature blue energy blazing brightly as he stood apparently nonchalantly watching the onslaught below.
"Amanda, can you see this? General Freedom is standing atop the Williams-Smythe building watching the carnage below…what can it mean?" asked the pale blonde reporter looking into the camera.

Back in the Action 18 studios, Amanda Eckersly glanced at the live scene and turned towards the cameras, "Well there you go RolePlay City, General Freedom standing by while mayhem breaks out below him. The sounds, the explosions should be a call to arms for a hero the city has called it own. But is he? Is General Freedom truly the hero we have made him out to be? Earlier today he was involved in a pursuit of one-liners who robbed a jewelry story, yet those criminals all died in an automobile accident caused by the flag draped hero."

The smoldering brown eyes stared into the camera; the frosted blonde hair pushed back, the camera closing in on her face, "Really RolePlay City, is General Freedom the hero we want?"

The scene flashed back to the helicopter crew and the unfolding violence below.

Deadeye and the Redcaps

Small timers, that's all these guys are - small timers looking to make a name for themselves. Who gets hurt doesn't matter to them. Nothing matters to them except getting a killer rep and scoring a quick fix of cash that they'll just blow on living large and trying to look like big shots. Stupid vicious punks that think the world is theirs for the taking even if they've got to break a few fingers and crack open a few heads to take it. Someone's getting hurt here today. They're right about that much.

God only knows what condition the two drivers are in, he only knows that they won’t be moving any time soon, if at all. He went easier on the kid sprawled on the sidewalk. The other kid, José they called him inside the Credit Union, pulled his gun and that’s a mistake he’ll be lucky if he lives to regret. Inside they’re in a panic and as long as they stay worried about surviving what he’s going to do to them the others will be safe. He’s dropped one and another pair of knives makes sure the other one who had come to the door – Nick they called him – won’t be running anywhere. That leaves Miguel at least, assuming he’s the last, but assumptions like that can get a guy killed. The problem now is their guns in that small space – not much room to dodge and too many innocents in the lines of fire.

“You! Lady! Get up! You’re dead if you can’t show us another way outta this rat hole.”

If the thugs were smart, they’d make everybody stand up, use them as shields, but they’re not thinking clearly. Whatever he does, though, it’s gotta be fast or else people are going to start getting hurt. These guys are young and they're used to being the ones dishing out the violence. Being on the receiving end has them scared. Scared and confused. Ordinarily fear and confusion would work to his advantage, but there are hostages - who knows how many - inside, and guns. He needs a distraction to get inside without them going crazy squeezing their triggers.

This is why he keeps the super balls with him. There is a decisive gracefulness about his movements as he hurls the small balls on various trajectories through the opening in the plate glass window. They do no damage, of course, but they bounce off the walls and floor and ceiling in so disconcerting a way as to provide considerable surprise and distraction. The distraction will purchase a few seconds and such seconds count very much, but only if one knows how to use them. Even as the balls arrive through the window and strike the interior of the building at various points, he is in movement as well, running forward, then leaping and finally tumbling through the broken window, his body tucked to avoid damage from the glass. So dramatic an intrusion as this, a sudden blur of dark colored movement in the wake of the distraction caused by the balls provides another advantage. Just as the others raise their guns – he was right not to assume that Miguel was the last – he is already in position. Two knives bite into a young man’s chest and the semiautomatic slips from his hand as he collapses. A sudden kick to the head renders the wounded thug behind him unconscious.

He expected there to be more screaming on the part of the hostages, but they are numb, perhaps in shock. So much blood. Nothing about this makes any sense. Nothing about this is any good. A quick score and a chance to make a name, get a rep, that's all this was to them. All it is now is just a mess.

He’s young all right, this last one. No longer a kid, but a far cry from being a man. Young and scared. “I’ll kill her, man. Swear to God, I will.”

General Freedom looked up at the sound of the news helicopter, staring with an icy glare for a moment. A grim smile crossed his lips as he recognized the station that the helicopter belonged to. For some reason Action 18 hated him and he didn’t know why. Exhaling as the sounds of combat roiled and rose to his ears, General Freedom closed his eyes a moment as he felt the energy well up inside is body. With that he leapt over the edge of the building and ignited the energies causing a loud sonic boom to erupt over the chaotic battlefield. The boom rattled and shook the windows of the buildings in a five block radius as General Freedom raced at incredible speeds down towards the street, the blue energy formed around his body as a shimmering aura.

The boom caused the police and the technocrat troopers to pause a moment as they looked upward to find the source of the immense rumble that echoed around them. The technocrats had the advantage due to their equipment and spotted the blue streaked headed towards them.

"It's General Freedom, focus fire on him!" Shouted the apparent leader of the cadre of troopers engaged in the battle with the police, and with that the plasma rifles no longer aimed at the police, but rather at the on rushing blue bolt. Several dozen rapid-fire bursts erupted from the entrenched men, sailing at the hero as fast as he flew towards them.

In an explosion of light the plasma burst connected with the blue energy field, while the field could deflect a great deal of the damage it could not disperse all of the kinetic energy, which knocked General Freedom back and through the glass of an office building. The whirling, spinning blue clad hero tumbled and crashed into desks and office equipment until he rolled up gently against a water dispenser.

Gritting his teeth, General Freedom stood up and dusted some of the debris from his body, with a snarl he generated some energy and cloaked himself in this blue field again. With a roar, he launched himself out through the same hole he had made and fired two concussive beams at the SUV's exploding them in spectacular fashion. Causing the heavy vehicles to raise high in the air in a tumbling arc, backwards towards the sidewalk in front of the IDE where they landed with a heaviness that bespoke of their now ruined nature.

Landing on the ruined and smoldering street the brilliant energy field glowing around General Freedom, the miasma of energy surrounding his hands blazed fiercely, "Surrender your arms gentlemen, you have no where to run." He said loudly as he walked slowly forward towards the dazed and confused troopers. It was at this exact moment all power in RolePlay City flickered and started to brown out.

Meanwhile aboard a bus headed towards Freedom Port a tall, mysterious man chuckled and rolled a coin between his fingers. “The beginning of the end…” as he watched the power station spark and blaze to life as the transformers began to explode.

Deadeye and the Redcaps

So fast. Everything. It all just happened so fast. None of us could follow what was happening. All we heard at first was the noise of the guns. I never heard anything so loud. And poor Frank….. My God! They just came in and shot him. They just…..

We didn’t know what to think or what to do. Who could think after something like that? They handed us the leather bags and we just started to fill them. And then that crash. The glass flew everywhere. It’s a miracle none of us got cut worse that we did. Something snapped when that boy hit the counter. We all got down after that. I kept wishing that my ears didn’t work so I wouldn’t have to hear what was happening. My eyes are still sore from pressing so hard to keep them closed. None of us knew what was happening, only that someone was hurting those men that shot Frank. One of them cried out that he was hit with a knife and Mary Calloway, our supervisor, whispered, “Good.” I didn’t say anything, I just wanted it all to stop. But after what they did to Frank, I wanted them hurt too. I hate that I felt that way and it makes me feel dirty knowing that I could want something like that. One of the customers was saying something that sounded like prayers. I tried to pray, but I don’t know any prayers and I think that I wanted those men to be hurt so much I couldn’t have prayed even if I knew any.

They were scared. All of them. You could hear it in their voices. Another one of them got hurt over near where they shot Frank. They were yelling about how wrong it was and I kept thinking about what they did to Frank and then I said it too, “Good.” That’s when the one named Miguel grabbed me and made me stand up. He said he’d kill me if I didn’t show him another way out. I knew he’d do it. He just killed Frank, why would he care about me? Why wouldn’t he just kill me anyway? Or worse? He pressed the gun up under my chin and I bit down on my lips so hard that they started to bleed a little bit. I was numb and I knew I was dead because I couldn’t even say my own name at that point, let alone show him the way out. Then I saw Frank and the others and I almost collapsed.

I started shaking and pressed my eyes closed again. There were all these funny bouncing sounds and then a heavier sound like a person falling. The man next to Miguel made a strange gasping sound and then he must have fallen down. Next I heard something like a cracking sound. And then nothing. I was crying by then and my eyes were still closed. Nobody was saying anything. The one customer was still mumbling his prayers. Someone else, it might have been Mary, was crying too. And Miguel’s whole body was shaking. He held me so tight that it hurt.

“I’ll kill her, man. Swear to God, I will.” I knew he’d do it.

“Say somethin’, man…. You know I’ll do it….. I’m tellin’ you, back off, man….. Say something!”

I opened my eyes then but I couldn’t see clearly through all my tears. He, whoever it was, was dressed in all black. He just stood there as if everything that happened was the most natural thing in the world. Calm and quiet and in no hurry.

“Don’t you care, man? I could kill her right here. Don’t you care?” I think that was when Miguel realized that it didn’t matter what he did – not to whoever it was that was standing there. I didn’t know what to think. I still don’t. All I know is he just stood there and I’m still alive now. I’d like to think he cared. But I don’t know.

“You throw that knife at me, you gonna hit the girl, man. What you about anyway? General Freedom don’t go around knifing people.”

“General Freedom is a hero. You don’t deserve General Freedom.” That was the only thing he said. His voice was quiet, but it was so.... so.... I don't know.

The next thing I knew Miguel took the gun away from my chin at pointed it at him. The man moved – he was so quick! Something snapped Miguel’s head back and then he fell. I fell right after, it was all just too much and I fainted. I came to here in the ambulance and I wish I was still unconscious.

The taxi that held Rochelle was in Remaeus Park within mere minutes of their departure time, due to the gun at the driver's head and the following of Rochelle's instruction to not stop for anyone or anything. As they arrived, the scared taxi driver wasn't slowing down anywhere near the park. Rochelle scooted to the side a bit to realize that this man's foot was still pressed down like a brick onto the gas pedal, and Rochelle shot him a dreadful glance through his rear-view mirror.
"Just what do you think you're doing? You fool." she said, her monotone showing a hint of annoyance.
"I'm goin' down, and I'm takin' you with me you bit-" the man's words were cut off as Rochelle's pistol fired through the glass barrier, shattering it. The man's brains were all over the front windshield following the discharge of her gun and as it did, Rochelle stood up in the moving vehicle and smashed the glass barrier that separated the two individuals with a thrust of her umbrella. The thrust continued well after she had shattered the barrier and moved down to the brake pedal on the car, slamming the pedal down while pushing the man's foot off the acceleration. She quickly grabbed onto the back of the seat as the car came to a screeching halt and balanced herself with her umbrella while staying low and next to the seat she grabbed onto. This made her slam against the seat, which cushioned the impact a bit while still allowing her to keep her umbrella firmly on the brake so as to come to a complete stop in the middle of the street. Rochelle was a bit shaken, but unharmed as the car came to it's screeching halt and as she regained her composure, she opened the car door and got out, while opening her umbrella and quickly moving to the Park.

"Hm. Just in time to catch the show. Or what's left of it." Rochelle said, as she pushed through the T.V. reporters who gasped as they saw the vigilante approaching. Gun still in hand, Rochelle made her way to the front of the media circus that littered the perimeter of the park and witnessed General Freedom 'save the day' once again by brutalizing these Technocrat soldiers. When General Freedom was throwing his concussive beams, Rochelle noticed that these beams could have easily hit the media members, or anyone else in the area and once again sighed at the man calling himself a 'hero' when he obviously could have hurt others with his powerful bursts of energy.
'Oh well...' Rochelle thought, watching the chaos unfold. 'For the greater good, I suppose.'
As the fight ended and General Freedom asked the men to surrender their weaponry, Rochelle noticed a flicker in a nearby lightpost before the all of the lights in the area suddenly shut off. She raised a brow and looked about, noticing the entirety of the power had gone out all over her immediate area. Soon, the media circus began whispering amongst themselves and then pedestrians, then it went whispering to talking. The talking soon escalated into a panicked yelling and people soon began to yell panicked pleas of concern and uneasiness. These things could easily lead to a riot, especially in Roleplay City and as the media circus was still rolling its footage, Rochelle started over to the man, the hero, known as General Freedom.

"General." Rochelle said, attempting to get the man's attention. "I think this situation is far from over."

General Freedom and Rochelle Blood:

Taking a step towards the carnage General Freedom was bathed in a blue glow that illuminated the area around him brightly. As he took his second step he felt, as did everyone in Roleplay City, a sudden jolt, then a rolling wave motion that lasted for a few seconds. This roiling of the ground coincided with the loss of energy through out the city. Hearing his name, the blue clad hero turned towards the slip of a girl as she approached. "General." Rochelle said, attempting to get the man's attention. "I think this situation is far from over." Another shockwave lifted the street, rending asphalt and concrete as well as a screeching sound.

"Earthquake!" General Freedom shouted as he increased his energy levels to help those should the buildings should start falling. However, it wasn't the buildings at grabbed the attention of those bewildered by the earthquake. It was the eruption from the ground around the Industrial Diamond Exhange of thousands of scarab beetles, clacking and rushing out of the ground in a blue metallic wave. The beetles swarmed around the fallen men, swarmed upon the mangled and ruined bodies.

It was a shock to say the least; the chittering sounds of the beetles filled the air, a steady buzzing drone that caused many to fear as the onslaught continued. Several of the police officers started stomping on the sea of bugs, only to be swarmed under by the wave. Running towards the wave, General Freedom shouted as loud as his lungs enabled, "GET SOMEWHERE ABOVE THE GROUND!" As he did so the energies that swirled around his hands increased until they were a blinding blue hiding the hands beneath that glow.

As the bugs swarmed over him, the thousands of bugs chattering and scrabbling to get on him, struggling to get through his shield to devour him, hiding him from view of those who sought shelter up high. The whorls of energy that wrapped and embraced the hands of the hero called General Freedom began to pulse slightly. Then it began, a muffled boom and a shift of the bugs, as they seemed to hop en masse. Then another muffled boom and another hop, then a much louder, much more pronounced boom and a higher hop of the furious insects. With each boom, the wave of bugs roiled and moved as if they were on water.

General Freedom, eyes closed breathing even and rhythmic released another small pulse of energy that incinerated the bugs closest to his form, with each concussive burst more bugs are affected as the force raced in ever widening concentric circles around the glowing figure. The bugs continued to swarm, they continued to come, continued to spread froth from the crack in the ground, towards the blue light that drew them like moths to flames. Snapping open his eyes, a cruel smile crossed the face of General Freedom, "Time to die!" He whispered to the mass of bugs on him, as he finished the sentence a wave of energy surged from his form, wrapping around the bugs in their blue light, spreading out enveloping every bug that swarmed, all the way back to the crack where they originated. Then in one sudden and swift moment the bugs exploded as the wave of energy raced through them, causing the harden shells to burst in a gooey mess. The concussive boom rolled through the bugs, snapping and exploding them in the thousands.

With a quick move, General Freedom leapt into the air, his form glowing brightly, illuminating the area in a radius of one-hundred yards in brilliant blue. As he gained some height, he paused a moment. His body ridged, his arms at his side, the energy swarming angrily around his hands. Lowering his head, he unleashed a wave of concussive energy on the remaining swarm, as he fly slowly towards the crack, detonating the remaining bugs that had escaped the initial wave of destruction.

As General Freedom moved towards the crack, something strange happened. The remaining bugs paused in their swarming, they froze, and then each one crumbled into a mass of black ash. Soon thousands of piles of darkly colored ash billowed and carried away, being dispersed along the streets by the winds generated by the concussive energies of General Freedom. As the first swirling cloud of ash raced around and away from him, the blue clad hero paused, and then gently lowered himself to the ground, surprised at the turn of events. Casting his gaze around, surveying the area, he witnessed every single scarab merely, for lack of a better word burn away. With a snarl, General Freedom strode forward through the black cloud towards the crack only to be surprised to find that the crack was no longer there. Dropping to a knee, he felt the disturbed earth and concrete where the hole had been. Narrowing his eyes, a feeling of apprehension filled him, this was new, this was something new, and it worried him.

Standing General Freedom turned his attention towards the Industrial Diamond Exchange, the original cause of this mess. Stepping through the damaged doorway, he stood and surveyed the damage done inside. What had the technocrats been looking for? Where did the beetles come from and more importantly from whom? Kneeling next to a body he looked at the face, devoured, gone.

Rising to his feet the blue-clad hero turned to find the girl that had approached him a moment before. She looked familiar but he couldn’t be sure, around him dozens of first responders hurried to see if they could aid the fallen. Straining to find her General Freedom began searching the area around him, seeking any sign of the red-eyed girl.

The power was out all over the city, causing havoc and accidents. Frightened people streamed into the streets, and criminals poured out as well, knowing they could prey on the fearful with near impunity. On a bus a large man turned a coin between his fingers, a growl erupted from his massive chest ending in a booming laughter causing those on the bus to shudder at the sound.

Deadeye at the Newsstand

They called it the Newsstand when he was on the force. Cop humor. The building itself is essentially a fortified warehouse where the magazines - the storerooms for all the guns, ammo and other weapons that the force has confiscated - are kept. Most of what is brought there, especially the stuff stored on the upper floors, gets sent out every month to be destroyed. The basement, however, is another story. Some things are simply too advanced, or just too dangerous, to be handled that way. There is a network of insulated vaults in the basements to contain those particular items until somebody can figure out what to do with them. Back when he was on the force, he heard stories from a couple of the guys who did a turn of guard duty over there about stuff being down in those basements for years - either because somebody forgot about it or because nobody knew just what the hell to do with it. He's heard other stories too. Stories that every now and again something from the inventory just happens to turn up missing. Stories that every once in a while there's a weapon used out on the streets that has no right being in the hands of the guy that's using it.

Then there's the story he's been hearing lately. Word has it that some of the One-liners have been making noise about trying to hit the Newsstand. On any ordinary day something like that might make for a good story, but not much else. The place is too well defended and the city has too damn many heroes for a group like the One-liners to fight off. But the power's out and there's no way it's coming back on any time soon from the look of things. The day was rough enough and there's too many cops sick over friends that are hurt or dead and with the chaos of the blackout every available guy will be out on the streets as the force attempts to respond to thousands of situations it'll need to deal with. The heroes too. With all that running around going on, there ain't going to be anybody looking out for a place like the Newsstand on a night like tonight. They'll be coming all right and they'll be coming in force. And he wonders just what it is that makes him think he'll be able to stop it.

Deadeye at the Newsstand

ThumpthumpthumpthumpTHUMPTHUMPthumpthumpTHUMPTHUMP
ThumpthumpthumpthumpTHUMPTHUMPthumpthumpTHUMPTHUMP
ThumpthumpthumpthumpTHUMPTHUMPthumpthumpTHUMPTHUMP

Who the hell cares about a blackout when the van's tricked out with a killer sound system? Not Demetrius and his crew, that's for damn sure. The buzz from that new designer stimulant that's been floating around the streets kicks in and he presses down on the gas. The van lurches forward and speeds down the side street, wheels squealing as it rounds the corner onto Grand Avenue. Two more vans follow, each carrying another well armed crew of One-liners. The bass line kicks in hard and Demetrius maxes out the volume. Gonna be a sweet score tonight. Maybe waste some cops. Grab some guns. Make some noise.

Been waitin' for a night like this for a long time. Gonna hit the bastards so hard they'll be dead an' we'll be gone 'fore they even know we been there. He smiles. "Gonna hit 'em hard man. Gonna hit 'em real hard."

This section of Grand Avenue never has much traffic on it after dark. It has even less tonight - just three vans blasting hip-hop music and speeding recklessly toward the Newsstand. And a solitary man dressed in black.

"DEMETRIUS!" Joey's pointing toward the windshield. No, not at the windshield. Through it. Some stupid mother is just standing there right in the center of Grand Avenue.

"Won't be standin' there for long. Gonna run his ass down." Demetrius presses down on the gas.

"Ain't movin', man. Got us a crazy here."

"Gonna have us a dead crazy."

"What the hell's he doin'? Got a gun, man! Crazy motha's gonna shoot!"

"Crazy motha's gonna die. That what he gonna do."

Demetrius holds the wheel tightly, his features hardened into a defiant stare on the figure in the center of the street. The man, whoever it is, is calm and that kind of calmness is disturbing. "Gonna die, asshole!" He presses the gas pedal fully to the floor, pulling rapidly away from the other two vans and aiming directly for......

There is flash of light, bright and brief, from the spot where the figure stands. A sharp cracking sound comes from the windshield sounding a discordant note against the steady thumping of the hip-hop bass line. Demetrius stiffens suddenly and then slumps forward over the steering wheel.

Deadeye at the Newsstand

To be a good cop, especially in this city, a guy's gotta be willing to learn - so willing that he'll go out of his way to do it - and back when he was on the force, he was a damn good cop. The thing is, there are some things that a city cop needs to know that just can't be learned in the city like they can be learned someplace else, someplace like that little town in the mountains near Trout Run. He heads up that way a couple times a year, but especially when it's bow hunting season. A guy can meet some of the best marksman around when he goes bow hunting, guys that are not just good with arrows, but really know how to get the job done with rifles and handguns too. It's funny what some of those guys practice on out that way at their makeshift shooting ranges, all kinds of homemade targets - including cars. Putting a bullet through a windshield in a way that hits a target behind it ain't no simple thing and it can't be done right without practice, lots of practice. A guy's gotta use the right caliber gun with the right kind of ammo and he's gotta know how to account for things like the way a bullet is likely deflect once it hits the angle of the glass. If the vehicle happens to be moving, things get that much harder, especially if it's bearing down on the guy that's trying to make the shot. Doing something like that takes more than a bit of knowledge, it takes guts.

Or stupidity. Outwardly he is calm because he cannot afford not to be. Despite his remarkable accuracy, what he does is not automatic. Good aim and good timing are only part of what it takes to hit a moving target, and they're the easy part. Nerve, steadiness and discipline are the other part, along with a willingness to actually pull the trigger and live with the consequences. The consequences are the hard part. Sometimes the consequence of a shot breaks a guy, even a strong guy, and he'll never get near a trigger again. Sometimes a guy runs from the consequences of a shot by blaming his target. Sometimes a guy just don't care and so doesn't bother to feel or face anything. Then there are the guys who feel the consequence of every time they've ever squeezed the trigger of a gun they've pointed at somebody else and can still pick up a gun and aim it. Those are the guys a person needs to be afraid of. Someone's going to die here, both he and the driver are sure of that, and each of them is willing to risk his life to make sure it's the other one. Both he and the driver have made their choices, all that's left now is to see if either of them will be alive on the other side of this to face whatever consequences might come.

Kind of catchy for hip-hop. It's amazing what can flash through a guy's head when he needs to be focused, and he's learned over time that the truly focused mind is that one that allows surface thoughts to pass so long as they remain only on the surface of his thinking - trying to block such things simply takes too much energy and takes the attention away from its real focus. Nothing matters now. Not the booming bass line of the music. Not the brightness of the high beams in his eyes. Not the size and speed of the van as it rushes toward him. Not the driver. The shot matters. Only the shot. His breathing is measured as is the pressure of his finger on the trigger. There will be quite a kick from the shot once he makes it, and he can't afford to let that through him off balance or he's a dead man. Sometimes, of course, a surface thought penetrates a bit too deeply and must be shoved aside. One thing at a time. Just make the damn shot.

Two more breaths and squeeze. It's best to keep time this way if one really knows himself and understands how the whole body has to work together to make a difficult shot happen. Inhale. Exhale. The van is so close he can smell the hot rubber of the tires. Inhale. Exhale. Squeeze.

His arms and shoulders shake with the force of the recoil and he has no time to reholster the gun. His accuracy with weapons is obvious and that's what others notice about him, but it's his reflexes that keep him alive. The van lurches hard to his right. He jumps left and he lands hard.

Deadeye at the Newsstand

"Stay down, Honey." Despite his fear, his voice is calm and quiet. It has to be. His daughter is frightened enough. Her trembling is palpable beneath the light jacket she wears, palpable and somewhat contagious it seems as he must fight to avoid allowing his arm to shake in time with the shudders of her frightened agitation. She had grown up so quickly, or so he had thought, but tonight huddling behind some stranger's car he realizes that there is still much more of the little girl about her than he had allowed himself to believe. There is no shame in that, of course, and were this any other time in any other place, he would likely smile contentedly at the realization that his daughter had not yet fully stepped out of the innocent vulnerability of her childhood. But this is neither the time nor is it the place for such joyful sentimentalism, not when a single stray bullet is all it would take to destroy either childhood or adulthood. "So fragile," he says quietly.

"What did you say, daddy?"

"Nothing, Amy. You just stay close to me. OK?"

She says nothing in reply, but she buries her face in his jacket and sobs quietly. Five minutes, just five minutes earlier and they would have missed this. They would be on their way home. They would be safe and not trapped and frightened. So much noise, and the crazy way the shadows twisted and jumped in the headlights of the van as it spun out of control, flipped over and crashed, and the guns, so very loud - it's all just too much. He shifts his body to protect her, to shield her with his own as much as possible. "Hail Mary," he whispers, "Mary full of grace." There is comfort in the words and he repeats them over and over again beneath the sound of gunfire and the shouting of profane threats. "Pray for us," he adds after a time, "now and at the hour of our death."

___________________________________________

Crimson Raider

Quick and clean he told her, hit the place hard and get out. An easy score. Just let the gang bangers get everyone's attention and then breeze into the building and make off with the item. Just a matter of seeing that the inside connection is taken care of after he makes sure the way is clear to the item. That was before the first van crashed. "No one can make a shot like that," she hisses in anger. "No one." Then there was the second van spinning out of control after he threw something at the tires. Now everything is just a mess and there's too much stray gunfire to risk an open move to the Newsstand for the time being - especially not with him, whoever he is, blending so easily into the shadows that lay across the lightless avenue. She has seen little more than glimpses of the man, but that first glimpse, the one of him standing in front of the onrushing van and waiting so calmly until the last possible instant before pulling the trigger, that glimpse has told her everything she needs to know for the time being. Her price for this job has just gone up.