Two assholes walk into a bank...

A quiet Tuesday in New York...

It was around noon time, the sun being blocked a bit by some drifting clouds. The temperature was average leaning toward hot, though a light breeze would blow in occasionally cooling the city's residents. The city that never slept produced the same amount of noise, various residents yelling, crashing into each other's cars or even committing crimes in broad daylight.

A dark skinned man was staring at the entrance of the M&T Bank on 8th Avenue. This man wore a hood over his face obscuring the view of the mask that was currently wrapped around his head. His hoodie was unzipped revealing a grey sweater, and his black jeans and dark grey combat boots, made him look as though he were about to commit a serious crime. Which he was.

Moving across the street, he shoved some bald business man onto the ground and out of the way of an ATM before grabbing both sides of it, and yanking the front piece off with relative ease. Reaching into the inside of his hoodie as several security guards began opening fire on his back, he pulled out a stereotypical bag with a green money symbol on the side.  Filling the bag with the currency inside the ruined machine, he would turn to leave, completely ignoring the bullets as all they really did was ruin his nice outfit.

Panzer was at it again.

This was it. Aaron was ready. The last 24 hours had been stressful and although he did not believe in luck or superstition, he held his breath and begged whatever forces that could hear him for a bit of it. When the grizzled man in from of Aaron looked up from his clip-bored to inspect him, he saw a relatively good looking 19 year-old, with black hair that parted to his right. The outfit Arron chose to wear today was a spiffy black button down, a pair of black jeans and some plain black shoes. Around his waist keeping his pants comfortably nestled where they should be was a fine black belt. all tho his whole outfit looked like it could be picked up at the local Walmart for just under 30 dollars (which it had been), Aaron felt like it made him look decent enough for the task ahead. Sweat raced down Aaron's head. His eyes locked on the man who was to decide his fate. Finally after what felt like an eternity, the man said "Fine, You got the job. Welcome to Chipotles". "YES!" Aaron jumped up from his chair and stuck out his hand. "I promise to do my best sir!". "Yeah, yeah. You start in two days. Now scram. I've got stuff to do". As Aaron made his way from the  parking lot to his motorcycle he lost his forced smile and popped his collar. A sick smile stretched across his face as he swung his leg over and slammed the kick start. As he drove to the bank to deposit his meager savings in a new bank account, he felt a chill run down his spine. The air seemed more humid than usual, and Aaron's stomach turned. After a moment the feeling passed and he wrote it off as indigestion from the former night's Taco bell. Still something felt off. Aaron pondered this as he parked outside the bank and heard the familiar sound of gunshots.

Panzer carried his sack of bills away from the security detail, as they bombarded his back with ineffective bullets. As he exited the door of the M&T Bank looking down to count his loot, he stopped as he felt something metal bump into his forehead. Looking up, he noted about seventeen different police officers pointing a variety of firearms at him. “Huh,” he said to himself as the lead officer began to order him to stand down, “they got here fast.”

Sighing, he would place his hands behind his head, still holding the bag. “Yo…..Officer...uh….Carlson?” he said referring to the man in charge. Any passerby would note the casual tone in which he spoke to the officer. “What is it Panzer?” asked the man holding the megaphone in one hand the semi automatic pistol in the other. He was an older white man with gray hair but piercing and intelligent blue eyes. “I hate to tell you this but uh….I’m afraid I can’t just give up and escape this time..” he said using his free hand to gesture to the five police cars blocking the road, and surrounding the bank entrance. “What do you mean?” Carlson asked narrowing his eyes. “Well bills are due and frankly this,” he said shaking the bag of money behind his head, “is my ticket to paying it. So if you could just call off these guys, that’d be swell.”

Officer Carlson grinned and chuckled a bit. “You know, son….If you didn’t do this almost once a week, I’d be inclined to believe you.” Panzer sighed to himself, smiling a bit. It was always like this. He robbed a bank, the 5-0 and Carlson showed up, he dropped the money, and then just hopped away, hitting up another bank a few hours later, and not waiting for the police that time. The cops were well aware of the second robbery, but could do little about it, as most of their street level weaponry failed to affect him. Panzer never assaulted the officers, and frankly enjoyed the weekly conversation. Old Carlson was hoping that the man could’ve been reformed, as his lack of violent tendencies, decent strength and bullet proof skin would’ve made him quite the force for good.

“So is that like a no?” he asked.

Curiosity drove Aaron to peak around the corner of the M&T Bank to see what all the commotion was about. What he saw both shocked him and infuriated him. Holding two large bags of money and being shot to no avail by the cops was a hooded figure. At first Aaron thought about simply leaving, but then thought about it for a moment and realized. "WAIT THIS IS MY BANK!". He hurriedly ran to his motorcycle and grabbed the long baseball bag that held his change of clothes and sword. "Didn't plan on using my powers any time soon, but i have to. I don't have much money as it is."

A few moments passed as Aaron changed. He put on a black zip-up sweater with a puffy collar. He took a moment to look at his sword before wielding it. He had not accessed his powers to this extent for a while. 10 years to be precise. Though every day he felt the urge. The urge to destroy and kill. At least today, he could let off some steam. He unsheathed the sword, it's ebony blade glistening as he did.

For a moment, everything stopped. Time slowed down. Everything hushed. When Aaron opened his eyes he called out his swords name. "Agares!", and with that, he transformed. If a plume of shadow and flame, his body's color receded. His hair became white as winter snow. His nails and teeth became jagged, and his eyes became a deep black, with red iris. Slaerihn had been re-born, and walked around the corner screaming "Hey buddy! Drop the cash!.

Panzer turned to the figure asking him to drop the money, expecting more police officers. What he got was a bit more...unexpected. It was either some sort of cosplayer or a mutated superhuman, and the sword was causing Jerome to agree with the former. Giving the man a grin, he was going to tell him to run home to mother when it occurred to him, that most cosplayers at least respected the police, so this man had to be the latter. “Great,” he muttered under his breath, “some sort of mutant. Time to pull out.”

Putting both of his hands up even higher, he would give the new arrival a smile. “Aight dawg, ya caught m-” he started, before turning away from the man and breaking into a mad dash, bag of cash still in hand. Moving up the street, he would keep to the sidewalk as he broke a right, and continued to dash away, not bothering to look back. He would put on this charade of running to tire out the mutant, then he would find a place to hide, and jump home. Then he would head down to the landlord’s and pay the man, and finally….he’d get some Burger King….Or Taco Bell.

Panzer sighed. This decision always plagued him.

"Oh great, a runner. Just my luck.". Seeing as he already released his latent powers, Slaerihn was intent on enjoying a bit of cat and mouse. He took to the rooftops, hopping from roof to roof. All while tracking the hooded man. He decided to follow him to his intended destination and confront him there, monologue that stealing was wrong and perhaps he should look into alternate ways of relieving stress. Like like music or leaving hateful YouTube comments.

After clearing several city blocks, Panzer, panting a bit, finally turned back to look for his captor. Seeing no one, a look of confusion dawned his face as he stopped running. Giving the mutant a five count, he would shrug. The man with the sword must’ve given up the chase. “Damn I’m fast,” he said, feeling proud of himself. Placing his hands into his pockets, he would make his way back to 125th street. Seeing the old brick apartment building, he would make sure no one was looking as he undid his mask and placed it into his pocket and head into his home, going to the second floor, door 5b. Rummaging through his pockets for his key, he would unlock his door, and head inside. Tossing the bag, onto his kitchen counter, he would look at his shitty three room apartment. A bathroom, a kitchen, and a bedroom, all in one, complete with zero hot water, and roaches galore. “Hey MTV, welcome to my crib,” he said quietly to himself as an aforementioned cockroach crawled across his toaster. Sitting at his kitchen table, he would grab a PS3 controller, and get to work beating on some noobs in Call Of Duty. Living the dream.

"Damn he's fast" Slaerihn thought as he observed the hooded figure unlock the door to 125th street, and enter. He gave it a minute, observed from another window or two. When Slaerihn finally accepted this to be the man's home, he walked up to the front door and left a hearty knock, lifeless eyes eager for the encounter.

Though at first he was hoping to avoid a fight, Slaerihn now felt eager to let loose. To feel the tingle of flames rising around him, enveloping him, being released. Still could be indigestion.

Hearing a loud knock, Jerome got up, moved over to the door, and checked the peephole. Jerome would then let out a hearty sigh as he saw the familiar face of the mutant from before reached into his pocket, and put his mask back on. Opening the door, he gave the mutant a look of masked aggravation, as he crossed his arms and said “What?” He didn’t even want to know how he had found his complex.

"Nice place... for a crook" said Slaerihn, a wicked smile spread across his face.

Jerome stared at the mutant for a moment, before moving to shut the door in his face.

"Baby please we can work this out!" Said Slaerihn as the door closed. Didnt matter, he prefered the hard way. With a single kick, the door flew off its hinges and  landed on the other side of the room. Manifesting fire in is left hand and drawing Agares close in his right, its ebony blade held in a defensive position, as if expecting a counter attack.

A rush of excitement hit him. This is what he's been waiting for. A real fight. One that could let some steam out and maybe even test his powers, to see their full extent in his current state. He awaited a response.

“This motherfucker,” Jerome said quietly to himself, after feeling his door shatter against his back. Looking down at his now useless silver doorknob, Jerome turned toward his assailant, using breathing methods to control his anger.

“You’re gonna pay for that door,” Jerome said through gritted teeth, his fists clenched. He had steeled himself for any assault, though he didn’t want a fight. He had enjoyed living in this apartment building, and didn’t want to see it destroyed.

Slaerihn snicked and backed outside. "Why don't we go for a stroll big guy. See the city. Id hate to ruin your little fortress of solitude". He made a gesture and tossed some embers into the air. He meant business. He wanted his money, and he wanted it now, maybe with a finders fee. Though he'd been thinking about another thing. A project he left alone a while ago. Maybe...? No. Get the money, hit the road. Get some fast food on the way home, and get some sleep. He had given up on being a vigilante at this point.

Panzer rolled his eyes, and moved toward the man. His fists were clenched and his demeanor, aggravated. As he moved forward, he put up a hand, attempting to shove the mutant out of his way. He had to go talk to his landlord about getting a new door.