"Morning Larry." Mark Herrick said from his desk at the First National Bank in Providence, nodding to the bank
manager. Larry Ross swerved over to the desk.
"Hey Mark. How are things going this morning?"
"Not bad, not bad. Had a kid this morning acting a little shifty, but it turned out he just forgot his ID and was afraid of
what we'd say to him. I'm still not sure what to think of this "Virtue" incident. The idea of people with "super powers" is a bad
thing, especially since we don't know if all these people are on the straight and narrow. Hell, we KNOW some aren't. Remember Fort Knox?"
"Yes, yes I do. Do the best you can though Mark. With your new guards and the weapons, hopefully something can be
done." Mr. Ross walked off towards his office. Mark patted the M-16 rifle on the desk. It was only loaded with non-lethal ammunition now, but there were
two clips of what is commonly known as "cop killers" in a glass case behind him.
The fact that he was an ex-Navy Seal is what convinced the Providence City council to permit the bank to have those rounds.
After 13 years of service to the country, he was honorably discharged into this security position in the bank, using his skills to help guard the money. Of
course nothing ever happened anymore. His contingency plans and general training had prevented four robberies when the experts thought the situation should
have overwhelmed anyone had earned the bank a reputation as impossible to rob.
Mark hated the unknown enemy. He had dealt with it before while on missions, but after the Virtue event; or the dumb comic book
thing as he called it; the playing fiend had been ramped up. His friends still in the service had given him some of the Intel on whoever it was that made the
hit on the fort. She had completely blown through every defense the base could offer. No one was quite sure HOW she did it, other than the liberal use of fire,
and apparently a lot of a thick black smoke. Her display of what those affected by Virtue could do if they were off their rocker had made him plan for a lot
more oddities.
He pulled his pistol out of his holster and placed it on the desk as he disassembled the rifle and cleaned it. He finished
sliding the last bolt into place as he saw a kid maybe 21 or so walk in. What caught his attention was the fact he was wearing ski goggles. Not a ski mask,
just the goggles. The kid was keeping his hands inside the sleeves of his jacket, which struck him as really odd as it was pretty warm out and defiantly not
the weather for a jacket that big. Mark stood up, grabbing the rifle and strode around the desk, heading for the boy.
Suddenly, it got really cold. A pair of ice blue metallic gauntlets slid out of the kid's sleeves. A bluish glow surrounded
them as he walked towards the vault. Mark found it hard to walk, and as he looked down, he could see dark blue ice gather around his legs. It was freezing him
in place fast, no matter how much he tried to move. He took the butt of the rifle and began breaking at the block holding him down. Customers and tellers were
screaming in fear, and most of them running out of the bank. Fortunately, whoever the kid was he didn't seem to be paying attention to the civvies.
Mark looked around and saw all his staff completely enveloped in large blocks of the dark blue ice. Whatever the kid was doing,
he hadn't finished the job with him. Only his feet were frozen solid. He broke his way out of the ice using his rifle then leaned over the desk and slapped
the emergency alarm. Reaching down, he grabbed a hunk of the ice and threw it at the glass box with the lethal rounds, listening to the glass shatter as the
ice hit. He pocketed one clip and began sneaking towards the criminal.
The kid was concentrating on the vault door. He was running his gauntleted hands across the door, leaving behind trails of
frost. Back and forth, back and forth, and the layer of frost got thicket. Eventually he placed his hand in the center of the patch and pushed. The vault door
cracked inward like a brittle piece of drywall.
Mark finally got behind the suspect and stood up behind him, using the skills he was trained with for years to be silent.
"Oi". Mark said.
The kid spun around quickly, shocked. He started to raise his gauntleted hands.
The butt of the rifle came down in the center of his eyes, cracking the plastic of the goggles. He fell like a sack of rocks,
making a loud thud as he hit.
Mark looked around at the cameras, remembering what angles of the perpetrator could be seen on the tapes. He reached down and
slid a gauntlet off the kid's hand, the one that wouldn't have been seen. He looked at it for a long moment before going back to his desk and sliding
it into his bag.
"Now, we're on an even playing ground."
((Anyone feel free to use Mr. Herrick. Just remember he is an Ex-Seal and is used to using whatever he can get ahold of.
That's why Tech origins are so much fun![[Image: wink.gif]](http://www.ezboard.com/intl/aenglish/images/emoticons/wink.gif)
If someone wants to run with what the Gov'ment would do with such a glove, its up to you))
There is no coincidence, only necessity....
- Clow Reed
manager. Larry Ross swerved over to the desk.
"Hey Mark. How are things going this morning?"
"Not bad, not bad. Had a kid this morning acting a little shifty, but it turned out he just forgot his ID and was afraid of
what we'd say to him. I'm still not sure what to think of this "Virtue" incident. The idea of people with "super powers" is a bad
thing, especially since we don't know if all these people are on the straight and narrow. Hell, we KNOW some aren't. Remember Fort Knox?"
"Yes, yes I do. Do the best you can though Mark. With your new guards and the weapons, hopefully something can be
done." Mr. Ross walked off towards his office. Mark patted the M-16 rifle on the desk. It was only loaded with non-lethal ammunition now, but there were
two clips of what is commonly known as "cop killers" in a glass case behind him.
The fact that he was an ex-Navy Seal is what convinced the Providence City council to permit the bank to have those rounds.
After 13 years of service to the country, he was honorably discharged into this security position in the bank, using his skills to help guard the money. Of
course nothing ever happened anymore. His contingency plans and general training had prevented four robberies when the experts thought the situation should
have overwhelmed anyone had earned the bank a reputation as impossible to rob.
Mark hated the unknown enemy. He had dealt with it before while on missions, but after the Virtue event; or the dumb comic book
thing as he called it; the playing fiend had been ramped up. His friends still in the service had given him some of the Intel on whoever it was that made the
hit on the fort. She had completely blown through every defense the base could offer. No one was quite sure HOW she did it, other than the liberal use of fire,
and apparently a lot of a thick black smoke. Her display of what those affected by Virtue could do if they were off their rocker had made him plan for a lot
more oddities.
He pulled his pistol out of his holster and placed it on the desk as he disassembled the rifle and cleaned it. He finished
sliding the last bolt into place as he saw a kid maybe 21 or so walk in. What caught his attention was the fact he was wearing ski goggles. Not a ski mask,
just the goggles. The kid was keeping his hands inside the sleeves of his jacket, which struck him as really odd as it was pretty warm out and defiantly not
the weather for a jacket that big. Mark stood up, grabbing the rifle and strode around the desk, heading for the boy.
Suddenly, it got really cold. A pair of ice blue metallic gauntlets slid out of the kid's sleeves. A bluish glow surrounded
them as he walked towards the vault. Mark found it hard to walk, and as he looked down, he could see dark blue ice gather around his legs. It was freezing him
in place fast, no matter how much he tried to move. He took the butt of the rifle and began breaking at the block holding him down. Customers and tellers were
screaming in fear, and most of them running out of the bank. Fortunately, whoever the kid was he didn't seem to be paying attention to the civvies.
Mark looked around and saw all his staff completely enveloped in large blocks of the dark blue ice. Whatever the kid was doing,
he hadn't finished the job with him. Only his feet were frozen solid. He broke his way out of the ice using his rifle then leaned over the desk and slapped
the emergency alarm. Reaching down, he grabbed a hunk of the ice and threw it at the glass box with the lethal rounds, listening to the glass shatter as the
ice hit. He pocketed one clip and began sneaking towards the criminal.
The kid was concentrating on the vault door. He was running his gauntleted hands across the door, leaving behind trails of
frost. Back and forth, back and forth, and the layer of frost got thicket. Eventually he placed his hand in the center of the patch and pushed. The vault door
cracked inward like a brittle piece of drywall.
Mark finally got behind the suspect and stood up behind him, using the skills he was trained with for years to be silent.
"Oi". Mark said.
The kid spun around quickly, shocked. He started to raise his gauntleted hands.
The butt of the rifle came down in the center of his eyes, cracking the plastic of the goggles. He fell like a sack of rocks,
making a loud thud as he hit.
Mark looked around at the cameras, remembering what angles of the perpetrator could be seen on the tapes. He reached down and
slid a gauntlet off the kid's hand, the one that wouldn't have been seen. He looked at it for a long moment before going back to his desk and sliding
it into his bag.
"Now, we're on an even playing ground."
((Anyone feel free to use Mr. Herrick. Just remember he is an Ex-Seal and is used to using whatever he can get ahold of.
That's why Tech origins are so much fun
If someone wants to run with what the Gov'ment would do with such a glove, its up to you))There is no coincidence, only necessity....
- Clow Reed