“Everybody get down!” Two loud shots were heard, but the shooter had no gun. The shooter was a scrawny young adult holding his arm up high, pointing a finger gun to the sky. On his arm were 20 tattoos of bullets, two of them faded, but slowly regaining color. The bullets he shot were energy projectiles coming out of his finger gun.

He pointed his finger at a woman kneeling on the floor of the bank, pleading for her life. “Please sir! I’ll give you anything you want, just don’t shoot me.” She managed to say through sobs. “I just withdrew a thousand Gen, I’ll give you all of it!” She started to fumble through her bag to find the money she just withdrew.

“Don’t move!” The man shoved his pointer finger into her forehead, pushing her down a bit. “A thousand Gen can barely buy you a good TV, what would I do with that? Just be quiet and let me get the money I deserve from this corrupt piece of shit!”

The woman quieted her sobs as the man walked away, finger pointed at one of the tellers. By the time he got to her, the two faded bullets were now fully inked.

“How much do you want? I can give you anyth…” The teller was cut off by another gunshot, splattering her blood on the white wall behind her.

“Shut up will you,” he said to the pale corpse. Screaming followed his gunshot like an echo. “Anyone who screams gets a bullet in their goddamn head!” The man yelled out, wildly pointing his finger gun at the civilians kneeling on the ground. His threat was successful in creating silence in the building. Near silence.

Across the bank, at the entrance, stood a man in a gray scarf, covering the lower half of his face. The door slowly creaked to a close, piercing the robber’s ears. “And who the hell are you?” He pointed his finger gun at the man in the scarf, waiting for an answer.”

The man in the scarf had a katana shaped tattoo that spanned his full left forearm. He reached for his left arm and started to grab an energy sword out of it. “30 seconds, starting now.” He said in a calm voice the moment the sword was fully out of his arm. Instantly, the tattoo started to fade, starting at the tip of the katana. The robber shot three bullets at the man in the scarf, but all of them were blocked by the katana.

The man in the scarf dashed across the room at full speed, brandishing his katana made of pure light. The robber kept firing energy bullets at him, but each round was blocked by the katana, swung at high speeds.

The robber got an idea, he pointed his finger at a man and his child, huddling on the ground a few feet away from him, too long for the man in the scarf to reach quickly. The man in the scarf’s eyes widened, and he threw his sword in their direction, piercing the energy bullet in mid air. The robber smiled, he still had six bullets left and the man in the scarf had no katana. The man in the scarf leaped towards his katana, stuck in the ground. He barely dodged the bullets as he rolled to his sword, yanking it out of the ground. He could hear the whimpers of the kid on the ground, so he gave the kid an assuring smile through the scarf. The robber had used all of his bullets.

The man in the scarf turned around confidently, but was instantly met by a palm at his chest. On the robber’s left arm was a tattoo of a shotgun, fully inked. “You’re finished, traitorous bastard!” The robber shot a huge scatter of small energy projectiles directly towards the man in the scarf’s chest, but at the last instant, a shield projected out of his chest, blocking all of the shots. Both combatants were pushed back a bit, but they were still in range for one final attack. 

The shield compressed back into the man in the scarf’s chest, and he made eye contact with the robber, who was now fearing for his life. He spun the katana around until he was holding it backwards, blade pointing away from his body. He rushed forward, thrusting the blade through the robber, slicing him in half. The robber’s upper half thudded on the ground next to him, followed by his lower half. As soon as the body hit the floor, the katana started to dissipate, and the tattoo was fully faded, exactly 30 seconds after it had been pulled out.

The man with the scarf looked around the bank, checking to see if everyone was okay. He was about to ask “Is anyone hurt?” However, he was cut off by the sound of shattering glass and heavy, quick footsteps.

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“Fuckin’ Inkers!” The man in the scarf turned around to see a squadron of 5 gunmen with a large bulky armored man at the lead.

Shit, I’m dead, the man in the scarf thought to himself. His katana was now useless, and there were many trained gunmen with fully automatic rifles pointed at his chest.

“Civs! Get out before you get caught in the crossfire! I don’t wanna do extra paperwork,” the large guy yelled out. Instantly, people scrambled up and out the door. The kid who the man in the scarf had saved from a bullet tugged on his pant leg. 

“Why is the government after you? You saved us!” He asked innocently. The man in the scarf couldn’t muster up the courage to tell the kid how corrupt and unjust this ‘government’ was and that everything that kid had been taught about life had been wrong. He just brushed the kid off, and decided his game plan.

He took advantage of the commotion and the fact that the men didn’t want to fire on civilians, charging at the subordinates with his bare fists. They were in normal AIGS attire, light armor, focusing on movement rather than defense. Despite the lack of restrictions on movement, they were still top slow for the man in the scarf. He rushed up to the two gunmen on his left and kicked one straight up in his jaw. He then turned around to the other gunman who was still processing whether he should shoot or not. The man in the scarf grabbed that gunman’s head and bashed it into his knee, shattering the glass in the man’s helmet. By the time he had knocked that gunman out, the one he kicked was back up on his feet. He got into a boxing stance and started to punch at the man in the scarf who dodged each attack effortlessly. It was obvious that he was highly trained, but he was still no match for a vigilante of this caliber. 

After a few quick blows, the man in the armor yelled out to his subordinate, “Use your damn gun! You can’t fistfight this one!” At that instant, the man in the scarf realized that the screaming was gone and there were no more civilians in the bank. Acting on fear, he quickly leaped past the unarmed gunman, hitting him down in the process, and climbed over the tellers desk. A shower of bullets followed his movements, but he was able to get into cover unscathed. 

His sword would be useless against three fully automatic rifles, so he had very little options. He pulled down his shirt a little to look at the shield tattoo spanning his chest; it was about half full. That shotgun really was powerful. This shield won’t last long, he thought to himself, weighing his options. He looked down at his right leg and sighed, I didn’t wanna destroy the bank, but there’s no other way out of here. 

He reached down towards the side of his thigh and pulled out a pulsing ball of energy. He instantly threw it over his head and onto the floor behind him, hoping he hurled it far enough to be out of its range. One of the gunmen in the back started to yell, “What the fu-“ but he was cut off by an explosion. The man in the scarf could feel a bit of the shockwave from behind the counter, but he was not damaged.

“That sure was an explosion. Too bad I’m wearing this suit of armor!” The big one yelled from the other side of the bank. Shit! That didn’t kill the bastard? The man in the scarf looked back down at the partially faded shield tattoo. This will have to do.

The man with the scarf popped out from behind the counter with a shield of energy covering his body. He was instantly fired at, yet he took no damage. He kept a close eye on the tattoo on his chest as he charged towards the man in the armor.

As the man in the scarf got closer, the man in the armor shouted at him, “You can’t keep that up for forever!” He kept firing onto the man in the scarf’s shield, hoping to shatter it and shred him to pieces.

The man in the scarf readied his right arm for a big punch, and as he got closer to the man in the armor, his shield shattered. He was looking face to face with the man, yet he was not intimidated. “No, but it lasted long enough,” he said in the same calm voice from earlier as his glare pierced though the man in the armor.

The man in the armor kept firing, hitting the man in the scarf’s upper chest, near his soldier, but the man just didn’t stop. Through the pain, the man in the scarf threw the heaviest punch he could at the man in the armor’s head, knocking him back onto his back. He looked down at the five small bullet holes in his upper-righthand chest, deciding his only option was to halt combat and flee. By the time the man in the armor got back up, the man in the scarf was gone.

“DAMMIT!” The man in the armor threw his helmet onto the ground, denting the tile below him. “I had him, I fucking had him!” He switched on his comms and started talking immediately. “That bastard got away. He killed four of my men and knocked me on my ass, then ran!”

The man on the other side responded with a single question, “Was it who I think it is?”

“Yeah, it was Slash.”