The sound of alarms pierces the night. Down the street from the source, a group of four examine their haul. They were small-time members of a gang simply known as the "Smash and Grab", because that's what they did. The four were feeling rather confident. They had managed to hold up the shop they just robbed without resistance, and had prevented the alarm from going off until long after they had left. Any heroes would have been arriving by now, but they were far too late. As far as the four were concerned they were home scot free. Unknown to them, the heroes would be the least of their problems.
As the four gathered and prepared to lieve, A small cylinder began to roll down the alleyway towards them. As the four turned towards the noise, the grenade burst, spraying a thick white gas into the air. "Shit!" shouted one of the villains, a strongman with an extra pain of arms. "Where did that come from? Who is that?" "There's no way they could have found us! What hero is that?" a second called. As the villains started coughing, a figure appeared in the mist. A gasmask framed by cropped black hair and dressed in a white lab coat, right hand holding a gas canister, and the left a 9mm pistol. "No hero boys," Toxin called. "Just me." Having said this, she raised her pistol, and put a bullet in four-arms' head.
In response, one of the others managed to rouse himself from his gas-induced stupor, growing his nails into sharp claws, and lunged at the woman coming down the alley. Before he could reach her, however, a second gunshot rang out, and Toxin simply stepped to the side. The body of Claws slid past her down the alley, pierced by a sniper's bullet. Despite Toxin's words, she had not come alone. Crosshairs would never have let her do such a thing.
The remaining two villains decided they would cut their losses, fleeing towards the other side of the Alley. Before they could reach their goal, however, A third figure blocked their path. Wearing a gasmask similar to that of toxin, and dressed in jeans and a black jacket, with a backpack slung over their shoulder and a strange weapon in their hand. The villains prepared to knock down the kid and escape out behind him.
Then he ficked on the weapons pilot light.
The alley was suddenly lit in a shifting rainbow of heat and light. A flash of multicolored fire from the flame-pistol, and screaming from the victims. Screams that were swiftly silenced by two more quick shots from Toxic. The alley grew still again, and the three figures regrouped in the middle of the charred bodies.
Crosshairs spoke first. "What's the status of Masquerade?" "Already in position" responded Spectacle. They're only waiting for our arrival to begin." "Then let's not disappoint" responded Toxic. "There is work to be done, and no one else is about to do our job for us." The three vigilantes melted off into the night, preparing themselves for a nasty confrontation with a nastier group. This life wasn't for everyone, but if they didn't do this, then who would?
Authors note: Ever have no good ideas on how to continue a story? Yah, I have no clue what i'm doing, so this might happen a lot.