Thread: A City to Save for One, A Giant Playground for the Other (Sierra 117 and Blissy)

He looks around for, the fire from the destroyed cars flicking around me, my suit shown off to the street as the orange glow from the fires flicker all along the street. He looked at the cars and saw a badge at his feet, blackened from the smoke of the fire and the explosions. He looked down to read the number, regonising it as Phil Manson's number, a friend of his. When he had first started his mission to ensure that the city got cleaned up, Phil had been one of the people who had always stuck up for him. In fact he had found him once after a fight with one of the biggest drug gangs in town. Sean could barely move, and if he had to try and escape he wouldn't have been strong enough to. Phil had looked at him and told him he needed to arrest all the gang members before he could even think about trying to arrest the masked hero, basically telling him he was free to go. It had allowed him to escape on his Hooverboard before the rest of the force had arrived, the directive still being at the time that he was a vigilante and if possible he should be arrested. Phil, among with a number of other police officers and most of the citizens of the city, had changed it so the police actually accepted his help. He had no idea whether or not some of the other cops, who had been amazing to him and made sure he never was caught or always had some help and intel, were also among the dead but he had never forgotten that night with Phil. He would make sure that, whatever happened tonight, he would avenge him and the other officers who had lost their lives only doing his job. That made him even angrier. Attacking his place of work and killing his employee's? That had been bad enough, he had taken that somewhat personally. But he had known that it wasn't against him, the person or the hero, directly. That had made it slightly easier to bear. However, this had been done to get his attention, to draw him out to her. And if there was one thing you didn't want to do, it was to piss off The Bridger. He heard her voice coming from a nearby alleyway. His head snapped to turn and face her, his body shaking under the suit as he did. Not from fear or sadness, but from pure rage. A rage that was wracking his body. He pushed the staff off his shoulder, holding it almost like a sword, in his left hand, his wrist twisted around it, the rod vertical and parallel to his side. He looked at her, hate in his eyes behind the mask, his LED lights contorting into a image of pure hatred, similar to the expression he held on his face. She was so proud of it all, her body fixed in and almost pose. You wanted my attention? He asked her, his voice dripping with venomous contempt for her, his face locked onto her masked face Well you have it. But you know what they say, be careful what you wish for As he finish his sentence he ran towards her, rapidly closing the distance between them, his other hand wrapping around the metal stick before he leapt into the air, rising above her, bringing the metal rod up in front of him before flicking his wrists, putting the whole weight of his body behind it as he struck at her, attempting to bring the staff down on her head with a satisfying thud.