K.C.'s Finest

“So how long you plan on keeping this up kid? Id hate to read about you getting your head bashed in by some super maniac in the Sunday paper.” The old man asked as he meticulously stitched up the new wound that covered the side of the boys arm, his voice filled with a mix of concern and admiration.

“Oh, you know me Grym. I wont stop till they kill me, and I may fight on a little after that.” The young man responded with a grin. “That is unless you wind up tellin my Mom, then my house is gonna look like For Knox.” The old man, Grym, gave a deep and hearty chuckle to Marks response. “Yes, yes she would. That'd make it a little harder to play hero now wouldn't it? Hell, I might even be able to get a good nights rest. Wouldn't have to wake up at all hours of the night to patch up some masked lunatic.”

The young man, who went by Mark Howards, sat atop a clean looking surgical table surrounded by what appeared to be state of the art medical equipment of all sorts. Judging by the bars on the window and the sirens Mark could make out in the distance the high tech lab they resided in wasn't too far removed from the mean streets Mark himself patrolled. “So you doin allright Doc? Them hoods been leavein you alone?” Mark asked, his usual carefree voice replaced with concern-despite his best efforts to hide it.

Grym sighed, a heavy long drawn out thing that made Mark cringe. “Those 'hoods' as you call them are Ms. Ohara's three boys mind you. And she assures me they are complete angels...” Mark let out an audible laugh that filled the room. “Those Angels slashed your tires, Grym. And for what? Parking in one of 'their' spots.” Grym sighed again, Mark cringed again. “Well that is true my boy, all four tires in-fact. But that doesn't mean I want to go out and attack them over it, its really a job for...” Mark interrupted. “..The super heroes!”
“No! Well...sometimes, its just, did you really have to stab him with a beer bottle? I mean, that doesn't seem very heroic.” Grym asked out of curiosity and the lack of will to argue with youth. “Well in my defense old man I did tell him to drop the knife. You know how I hate knives.” Grym held what was left of the stitching job in his left hand, the latest of Marks wounds now expertly closed. Mark had to hand it to Grym, for a one armed man the bastard could still carryout half the operations a normal surgeon couldn't. “And besides 'I' didn't stab anybody, that's just what happens when you throw a beer bottle against a brick wall just the right way. I call it a ricochet.” Grym laughed as he hobbled over to a pristine white cabinet, watching the man with both prosthetic leg and arm move was like watching a puppet without strings struggle to right itself. And boy did it hurt Mark to see such a good man, who'd done so much for both him and his family, struggle with such mundane tasks. It bothered Mark before he knew any better but now that he had clarity of mind he literally spent nights thinking about it. “No my boy it was called a ricochet long before you. Your just the first I know who can do things like that on the fly.” The way Grym said 'the first' bothered Mark but he decided not to press him about it, he had more important things to discuss.

Grym continued to patch Mark up by applying a strange looking gel to his wound followed by a tight bandaging. “Grym ive been wantin to ask you. Lately ive been beatin on the mobsters pretty hard. Nothin to big, mostly small time enforcers and the occasional drug den when I can track down the rats. But within the last week or so ive been runnin in to this.” Mark sprang up from the table and walked over to a nearby desk which contained a few strewn about papers and a cardboard box. Picking the box up Mark returned to the operating table where he dumped the contents of the box, at least a half dozen heavy thick brown gloves fell to the table with a loud clatter. Grym was immediately picking up the various gloves and inspecting them as if entranced. “It cant be...But it is. You should have the only pair of these in the world Mark.” Mark folded his arms, a serious look on his unmasked face. “I thought as much Grym, but it looks like that's not the case anymore. More importantly these could only have come from one place.” This time Grym cut mark off. “Howards Inc. My god Mark, I had no idea. You have to believe me.”

Mark held his hands up to calm the old man “Don't worry Grym I know your clean on this. You left the company long before that shady committee really had its talons dug in. And besides I know how close you and my father were. But I needed to speak to you about it, i figured if anybody would know where to start lookin it'd be you. I mean you were the head of the liquid steel project.” Grym hobbled his way over to a chair which he let himself drop into, after a moment of silence he responded. “Well Mark the only name I can really give you to look into would be Adam Cooper, an old colleague of mine. He was my right hand man on the project, which if you remember correctly was scrapped by your dad because he saw no practical use for it, Cooper on the other hand was adamant we go to the military with it. He believed they could find a way to weaponize it, and to be honest they probably could have, but your dad and I wouldn't hear of it. Eventually security caught Cooper trying to sneak a sample out of the lab and your dad was forced to fire him, being the good man your dad was he didn't bother pressing charges, but that was the last id heard of Cooper. I hadn't even really thought about him until just now.”

Going over the information he'd just learned and his next course of action Mark was snapped back to reality by a loud smash and groaning of metal. To Marks amusement Grym had found his was back to the operating table, which now had the imprint of the old mans gloved hand smashed into it. A troubled look danced across his face “If an old one armed man can do that with one of these just think what one those masked loons with super strength could accomplish. The mere thought makes me shudder.”

“Don't worry about it doc, The Matician is on the job. But I think I might need a few more 'masked loons' for this one.” And with that Mark Howards put on his goggle like mask and picked up his trusty red crowbar ready to hit the streets, the goggles built in police scanner already chiming into his ear about a four man armed robbery in progress. Work was never done.

ooc: Post who you wana join as and we can get this thing rolling, I think im gonna turn it to private if we get enough people.

-3 Hour Before Armed Robbery-

Somewhere at an old tool shed, three men in their 30's are planning for a robbery, the leader is an average build man, his partners is one that is buffed and the other is slim and lean. "I'm telling you, we don't need an extra hand!", yelled the buff one. "And I told you that I already call the guy here so deal with it.", replied the leader. "Let's just see if the guy is worth bringing along for this heist.", replied the leean when a knock is heard at the door. "And the moment of truth has arrive.", said the man from earlier sarcastically as he opens the door to reveal Jonathan Wiles. "Oh you got to be kidding me.", said the man at the door, "This is the great help we're getting?", he asked. "Hey, all I know is that he said he'll help us greatly.", the other man said. "Help from this guy!? He's a God damn shrimp!", the man at the door said about Jonathan. "I would watch I say, if I were you.", Jonathan warned the man. "Oh yeah? What are you going to do?", the man said as he pushed Jonathan. Jonathan took this chance as he grabbed the man's arm and flipped him onto the floor as he pulled out a Beretta M9 to his face, "I wonder if I'm one bullet short on the heist.", Jonathan said as he readied his trigger finger. "Okay, okay, your the man!", the man yelled in fear. Jonathan put his gun back into his holster and turn to the leader of this group, "So when do we start?", Jonathan asked. "We can go now if you want.", the man replied, "We're taking the van got it?", the man added as they he and his men armed themselves with assault rifles. "I call shotgun.", Jonathan said jokingly as the four of them got out of the shed and to the black van. "So where are we going? A bank, museum, or something else?", Jonathan asked as he got in the passenger seat. "Bank.", the man replied as they all drove to the bank they are targeting.

-Present-

When they arrived at the bank they quickly got out of the van and into the bank. As they walk in, the buff man aim his gun at the ceiling and fire it, "Everybody on the ground now!", he yelled. Instinctly everyone hit the deck as the leader and slim to the vault in the basement. "Okay, everybody will get up and walk to the vault now!", the brute yelled. Everyone on the ground slowly rises and began walking to the vault like sheeps. Once they reached to the basement, the leader and slim has already unlocked the vault and are retrieveing the money. "Put them in the vault.", the leader said as the brute ushered them in the vault. Once they are all inside, the brute closed and lock the vault, "That'll keep them from going anywhere.", the leader said. Suddenly the work phone near the vault rang, Slim picked it up to his ear, "Hello?", Slim said. "My name is Nick Anderson, I'm with this city police department and have the bank surrounded with a medium sized SWAT team, I am willing to to negotiate with you for the safety of the hostages, so what are your demands.", the SWAT leader asked. "Hey boss, negotiation.", Slim said as he passed the phone to the leader. The leader whisper a conversation in the phone as he hung it up. "Alright everyone to the lobby, we're going to be busy today.", the leader said as they went back to the lobby to hold their place in the bank.

A short jog and a grapple hook was all it took to reach the scene of the crime. It was worse then The Matician had thought, a mix of SWAT and cops already setting a secure perimeter around the building. It appeared as if “robbery” had turned into “hostage situation”. Ducking beneath the nearest yellow tape The Matician strode onto the scene like he owned the place, passing seasoned and rookie cops alike who mostly just stared in shock. Super villains were almost commonplace but heroes were few and far between, and compared too the well known heroes of his time The Matician was but a minor player.

A middle-aged police officer who looked like he'd spent 3/4s of his career working the dunkin doughnuts 'beat' approached The Matician, his pudgy hands straddling his large belt. “Eh boys look what we got here, one of em masked super heroes. Looks like our job just got easier! So Captain crowbar whats the plan? You fly in there and beat em to a pulp with your super strength?” The Matician rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, a nervous smile on his face “Well I don't actually have super strength...and the flying's not gonna happen.” The cop butted back in excitedly “Oh, so you can shoot lasers or somethin?”
“Well, no, not exactly I...” interrupting again the cop asked “Well you can stop a bullet cant ya?”
Again The Matician had to respond with a dejected 'no' “Well just what can you do son?” The cop finally said, folding his arms overs his chest in an aggravated manner “You aint a crazy are you boy?” To this The Matician laughed out loud, a young enthusiastic laugh that left one short of breathe. “Well that, I don't know about. As for my powers, just watch and learn.” With that he was off, staying low to the ground in an awkward sprint. Making sure to stay out of the line of sight of the windows The Matician reached the side of the bank as he planned. All the windows and doors he had to worry about were in the front, the open side of the bank just being a mere stone wall. Taking a step back to take a breather The Matician took a moment to think of everything he knew about buildings from this era, hed gained a plethora of knowledge on the subject in a one night cram session and retained every bit of it. Scanning the mid-section of the wall for a weakness he found what he was looking for-aged brick and a weakening crack. A few quick jabs with his crowbar and a couple swings of his metal coated hand was all it took to create a hole big enough for him to easily manage his way through. And to think, people trusted their money to this place. His assumptions were correct, the room hed broken into was dark and closed off from the rest of the building probably belonging to a manager. He was inside, now he just had to take out the crooks.

Six years of being a professional criminal was enough for Tim to know this heist hadn't been going right from the start. Hell, he should have called the whole thing off the minute Boe brought an outsider in. Tims three man crew, his old buddy Boe and brother Bobby, were quick and efficient and Tim always knew what to expect from them. This 'Jonathan' fellow was a complete wild card and Tim didnt know whether he was likely to snap and start gunning everyone down or if he worked for the very cops outside. If that were the case Tim would do his best to make sure the kid didnt leave without a bullet.

Boe was still in tearing through registers trying to fill his bags with as much loot as possible when Bobby, who'd been keeping an eye on the hostages, came to Tim with a phone saying something about police and hostages. “They want to know our demands huh? Hell they probly just wana keep me talking long enough to line a shot up.” Angrily he snatched the phone from his brother and began talking to the pigs.

Halfway through the phone call was when Tim heard the distinct noise of metal hitting brick. The noise was faint, indistinguishable even, but with Tims increasingly heightened paranoia he could hear it clear as day. Cupping his hand over the phone he snarled at Bobby “Go check that fucking room!” Bobby, who'd never seen his brother near this upset, quickly nodded out of fear. Tightly gripping his assault rifle he headed towards the room, far less scared of what lay on the other side then his brother.